#tab also crashed like five times trying to make these so. i give up

[newpartnerincrime]

[my-writings-and-musings]

Please ignore this if you've gotten sick of this particular prompt, but may we please get another set of the Oxygen Deprivation scenarios, but this time with Ratchet and Megatron?? Regardless of if you do it or not, thank you for your hard work, I love everything you've written so far!

Thankfully I never tire of drama! I did the prompt for Megatron back in part three, but I've absolutely got some grumpy/caring medic for you! Thank you for taking the time to read my stuff and send in a request, it always makes my day!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: You're Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Ratchet

·You're in Swerve's with him for a nice evening off, something he enjoys a little more frequently than he used to thanks to the multitude of medics on board, but he appreciates every minute the two of you get to enjoy together regardless. There's hardly a lack of things to discuss, and you often find yourself listening to his stories until the bar closes and he has to carry you to berth. It's a little embarrassing for you, especially with every bot that knows thinking it's the cutest thing they've ever seen, but you admittedly enjoy being with Ratchet too much to care about how it looks. It doesn't hurt that he quite obviously enjoys it as well, especially when he's usually around those who only seek him out if they're sick, and he enjoys that he finally has an enthusiastic audience.

·The two of you are amongst the last of the patrons but still going strong one slow evening, with you perched atop a table whilst the older mech tells a story about a long ago incident in a medical lab where, upon being short staffed due to an ongoing battle, a patient had helpfully assisted with his own surgery. Though you're tired due to the hour, you're more than invested enough to keep your eyes open and listen along in fascination. It's not often he gets to go on like this, after all, and he looks absolutely adorable when he does.

·There's an unexpected flickering of the lights that stops everyone in their place, but it ends just quickly enough for the atmosphere to return to calm and for some bot to crack a joke about Swerve not paying his electric bill. You barely have time to chuckle before the whole ship is rocked like a boat on the open ocean, sending engex flying and glass shattering as everything not nailed down is tossed without a care, yourself included. Only the quick hands of an experienced medic save you from experiencing a not so gentle crash into the floor. Looking up once the dust settles to see Ratchet has you cupped safely in his palms, the two of you can't help but exchange a quick smile before the various bots around you start asking questions.

·Ratchet is quick to answer, keeping you in his hands to avoid the sea of broken glass as he stands. Any bot with decent battle experience on a ship like this recognizes what they all just felt, but being a bot who's seen more than his fair share of combat in space, he's able to explain that the size of the tremor indicates that they've been trapped by an enemy ship of smaller but not insignificant build. He gives them about five minutes before they're boarded, and instructs those gathered to head for emergency battle stations, as commands for defense will no doubt be incoming.

·Announcing his own intent to get to his post in the medical bay, the mech is quick to get going despite appearing outwardly calm, even promising Swerve he'll settle his tab when they get all this sorted. Holding you tight in one hand, he pulls up his communicator and tries to reach the bridge for specific instructions. To his frustration nothing comes through, and you find the same results when you make an attempt to establish communication with any top bot on your own communicator, prompting a few muttered swears from your partner. As usual, he's quick to get right to planning.

·Thankfully his designated task for any kind of emergency is exactly the same no matter the crisis; he heads to the medical bay and starts repairing the inevitable wounded. While you can't help with surgery, being that you're not much bigger than most of their tools, he posits that it makes sense for you to come with him. There's nothing more fortified than the medical bay, after all, so you can at least be somewhere safe. Though you're tempted to tease him about how obvious it is he wants you somewhere he can keep an optic on you, for now you decide to just settle in his hand and focus on what's ahead.

·Having been on many ships before this one, he's able to navigate with hardly a second thought, giving him a chance to keep his focus on you whilst he tries to keep figuring out the extent of the ship's difficulty. You can see him frown as he tries unsuccessfully to get his communicator working, and though you want to be stealthy for the sake of safety, you do want a better understanding of what's going on. Thankfully a human voice doesn't travel far through the hallways when spoken at conversational volume. Trying not to betray your anxiety, you ask if he can tell you anything about what to expect.

·Holding your tiny form a little closer, he hides the fact that he can see your apprehension clear as day, quite familiar with the brave face bots and humans alike will put on when in danger. Still, he certainly respects you enough to be honest. He explains that one ship latching on to another for an ambush these days is typically a pirate tactic, as they're more interested in selling the vessel afterwards or scrapping it for tech, unlike warring factions who will typically just blow each other up. There's probably already enemy forces on the ship, and they've certainly come well armed if they feel confident enough to take on Cybertronians.

·Your eyes dart around a little faster at that thought. Securing your hand against one of his digits, you remember they're sensitive enough to pick your heartbeat from just a touch, and the recollection stirs your affection whilst also making you think. If Cybertronians are so advanced, how can there be nothing working on this ship right now? Were there really no back up systems that could at least give you the basics? With the whole structure being the size of Manhattan, it'd be very nice to at least know if some areas might be safe, but then again bots tended to build things in a strange way. Nevertheless, your curiosity is so great you can't help asking a question.

·Ratchet pauses even as he keeps walking, his expression going distant in a way that initially makes you worry your query was taken with offense. But thankfully he speaks a second afterwards, looking inspired as he recalls a station of terminals not too far out of your path. It's more vulnerable, sure, but it also has physical connections to every part of the craft. He'd at least be able to conduct a system wide scan from there, and after that he'd have a much better idea of what they're up against. But he has to ask you first; are you comfortable with him taking the risk? Of course he'll always protect you, but there's a greater chance he'll need to do that if this path is chosen.

·You're smart enough to know exactly what he means. But there's a risk you'll bump into an enemy anyway, so wouldn't having a chance to get information like this be worth it? Oddly enough you seem more on board than he is with the plan, his friendly blue optics dimming with worry before you lay a comforting hand on his chest, smiling as you do so. This big mech cares so deeply for everyone, but you have a very special place in his loving spark, no matter how much he tries to pretend he's a grump. Your sentimental move seems to snap him back to hiding behind his mask, and he mutters something about feeling your heartbeat against his palm and how it's obvious you're nervous but if you say you're ready then he'll give this plan a try...

·For the sake of stealth he remains in bipedal mode, but he absolutely keeps you securely held to his chest, and you can't help but wish the circumstances were better because his spark humming beside you is impossibly soothing. Being held protectively by a Cybertronian is undoubtedly one of the most secure feelings in the world, you believe. Just being held by him in general though is enough to make you realize you're actually quite tired, enough so that you could absolutely fall asleep... Until he detects your slowing heartbeat and encourages you to stay awake.

·The terminal is in sight without a spot of trouble when Ratchet has to gently coax you awake for a second time, using a light nudge of his digit to encourage you to open your eyes once more. Though he knows the hour is late, your sudden sluggishness concerns him as a medic, enough so that he's now more intent than ever on getting some answers. Even without proof and a wealth of far more simple explanations, he's got a feeling something is wrong. A small part of his concentration is divided to keep a constant watch on your vitals.

·You're still alert enough to hear the incoming trouble just as he does; gunfire, shouts and general sounds of skirmish approaching rapidly down the hallway. Hearing him curse this unfortunate luck, you try to ascertain how long the two of you have until company arrives, but the noise is much too chaotic for you to gauge. Knowing Autobots will be amongst the fray is somehow far from comforting. Holding on tight to the hands cradling you so protectively, you look straight up just as the quick thinking doctor looks down at you, absolute trust in your eyes as you meet his optics. Whatever he decides to do next, you trust him with your life.

·The decision he makes isn't a spontaneous one, but it certainly feels like it as he barrels towards the terminals, holding his tiny partner to his chest as he runs. Knowing what's happening may well be the key to undoing any damage before it's too late. He can feel the heat of a few errant shots of blaster fire just as he gets his one spare hand on the keyboard, typing with speed he typically reserves for surgery as the world around him grows gradually more chaotic. Fortunately he only needs to hit a few buttons to bring up all the information he's looking for. Sharp optics start scanning whilst he uses his multitasking skills to keep track of everything else, listening for the threat and holding your little body close while he registers your pulse.

·The world around you feels like it's moving through water that thickens with every passing second, and neither the crackle of energy weapons nor the clanging of blades does anything to reverse the process. Even a shout from an Autobot warning Ratchet to move seems a million miles away. You know he told you to stay awake, but would he really mind if you got a quick nap in? After all, it's so late, and you're so tired, and you feel so safe in his sheltered grip... There isn't even a bit of worry in your mind regarding the fray. How could you be worried, here with the bot who would protect you always?

·Everything makes a terrifying amount of sense far too quickly. Ratchet is accustomed to the rapid responses his occupation requires of him, but for this singular instant he's frozen, optics locking on the atmosphere readout and hoping that he's simply misread it. A glancing but molten blow past his back forces him to accept what won't change, and he manages a combat roll just as the terminal is blasted by errant fire, the battle now within arms length as the same Autobot keeps encouraging him to move. He obliges only after sinking a fist into the face of an alien who wanders too close. After that, he's on the move without reservation, keeping you shielded with his entire frame as he runs.

·Your world spins without end even when the movement of everything beyond stabilizes, and you cling to the bot holding you for something to steady it all. God, what you wouldn't give to lie down and sleep... Ratchet is talking to you though, holding you so that you can see his face as he explains something about oxygen and taking deep breaths while focusing on him. It makes tragically little sense to you. Still, you feel bad as your eyelids grow heavy and your body turns to limp weight in his grip. Even your efforts to breathe as instructed feel like a failure. Of all the beings in the galaxy he's the one you want to dissapoint least, but his warm palms beneath you are so comfortable, and his spark humming in your ear is so soothing... You only hope he can forgive you for submitting to sleep.

·Ratchet knows he's powerless to wake you again, but that hardly keeps the agony from tearing at his spark. Seeing you go limp in his grasp, feeling your pulse weaken and grow irregular, hearing your breath stall... How long has it been since any medical emergency has reduced him to near panic like this? He's so invested in his task that his arrival to the medical bay only comes with orders. You're the human equivalent of a Fader, and so much of what he needs to save you isn't even ready to go! He needs to have a mask, a saline solution for dehydration, and oxygen of the exact content percentage you need to survive just to start... For the first time in eons he's terrified, even as it all comes together and he sees your vitals stabilize before his very optics, as all he can think of is how very close this came to ending tragically. As you're left recovering he quickly gets to work on other patients, throwing himself into the task so as not to worry, though his optics betray him on the regular with glances towards the berth supporting your tiny body.

·Wakefulness comes with a familiar digit resting in your palm, reading your vitals as you put together blurry pieces of a not so happy story. To your delight, a brightly colored chevron is the first thing you see when you open your eyes, and it's impossible not to smile when you roll your head over to look at the owner. Ratchet somehow looks more exhausted than you've ever seen him as he smiles back. He relays everything that happened in a way that paints him as an unimportant figure, up until you move your hand to rest atop his, your eyes filled with that same trust and admiration you'd given before he'd gone for the terminal. You want to communicate that you know how much you owe him. This brave, selfless medic who'd risked so much to give you his best and deserved the full credit for saving your life... Humility doesn't allow him to agree in full, but you're certain you can see peace in his optics, the kind he only seems to feel with you.

[dameronology]

tea & whiskey {jack daniels x reader} - 1

part one: an insight into how microwaving tea should be a capital crime (fem! reader) 

song for this chapter - ldn by lily allen

summary: you’re Percival; reigning queen of the Kingsman, certified bad-ass and one of the most self-sufficient women to have ever graced the City of London. A mission with the Statesmen is a chance to further your career and tighten your grip on international success - it’s a shame that Jack Daniels already has his eyes on the throne. He also has his eyes on you, and it proves to be a problem for you both. {series masterlist}

this has all the kingsman characters but doesn’t follow the canon of golden circle. eggsy, tequila, champ, merlin etc all crop up throughout the series as well! if u want to be tagged, gimme a shout 

- jazz

You didn’t usually answer the door when someone knocked after 11PM. 

It was just common sense, really. Only serial killers, creeps and people who had the wrong address would knock that late. You could have taken on any of those three regardless - you were a bad-ass after all - but you were also busy. You’d been tirelessly working all day at the office, and the grind didn’t stop just because you’d got home. The stack of paperwork beside your computer felt like it was never ending and you simply didn’t have the time to answer the door. Working as Kingsman was more of a lifestyle than it was a job.

‘Oi!’

You almost jumped out your seat when the banging moved to the window beside your desk. It overlooked your front lawn and the quiet street you lived on - well, as quiet as a street in central London could be. Classic to the city, rain was lashing down on the glass, obscuring your view of whoever your visitor was. 

Right, you could add Eggsy Unwin to the list of people who knocked this late. 

‘What the hell, Eggsy?!’ You sighed, opening the front door. Your colleague quickly rushed from where he was standing by the window, elbowing past you and into the dry warmth of your house. ‘It’s almost midnight-’

‘- I’ve been calling you for hours!’ The agent exclaimed. 

‘I’ve been working all day.’ You replied. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d turned up at your doorstep at a stupid hour. Eggsy was your colleague, but first and foremost, he was your best friend. He had a tendency to drive you up the fucking wall and right back down again, and had done since you were in your school years, but he’d always been a little dependent on you. Whether it had been letting him crash on your sofa when his stepfather became too much, or giving him a lift home from the police station at 2AM after he’d been arrested, you always had his back. He had yours too, but you rarely needed it. Even after becoming a member of the Kingsman and essentially saving the world, you were still the first person he came too. 

After wrapping Eggsy up in a towel and escorting him to the kitchen, you placed a mug of warm tea on the table and sat beside him. Work could wait - for an hour or so at least. Chasing an internationally-reclaimed terrorist certainly took precedence over whatever your friend’s problems were, but if he needed you, he needed you. Bros before hoes might not have been the perfect saying for the situation, but the sentiment was definitely there. 

‘What’s happened now?’ You quirked an eyebrow. ‘I know it ain’t an arrest because you would have called from the station otherwise.’

Eggsy thinned his eyes at you. ‘I haven’t been arrested in two years.’

‘So what was it?’

‘I had a fight with Tilde.’ He admitted. ‘I don’t know what happened, but she’s mad at me.’

‘Were you talking before she got mad?’

‘Yeah.’

You raised your mug in the air. ‘That’s probably it then.’

‘Y/N!’ He swatted your hand away, causing tea to spill out onto the table. 

You sighed. ‘D’you wanna talk about it?’

‘No, I just need a place to crash.’

You stood up, leaning over the table to give his shoulder a squeeze. ‘You know where the spare room is, right?’

‘That’s it?’ He pouted. ‘Tea and a squeeze on the shoulder? My life is falling apart!’

‘Don’t be a drama queen.’ You replied. ‘I have to work - and you should be too. We’re close to getting Calahan.’

Calahan was the codename for the terrorist you’d been tracking - at least his current one. The man had worked under several aliases, jumping from country to country before finally falling under the jurisdiction of the British secret services. The MI5 and Scotland Yard were too well known to work such a sensitive case; the location of their offices were publicly known, making it easier for Calahan to slip in double agents. The civilians, however, had no knowledge on the Kingsmen. A tailor’s shop was a perfectly good front for a place to set up base and track the man down. 

Thanks to your success on your previous missions, Arthur had put you in charge of finding him, with Eggsy assigned as your partner. He was just as good an agent as you, but you had little sympathy for his domestic issues. 

‘I was working on it all day.’ Eggsy held his hands up in surrender. ‘But with all due respect, Percival, I don’t work into the late hours of the night. I know how to switch off.’

‘That’s because you’re a man, Eggsy.’ You reminded him. ‘I am one of three women at Kingsman.’

‘That’s still three more than there used to be.’ 

‘You’ve already pissed off one extremely patient woman tonight.’ You warned him, referring to Tilde. ‘Do you want to go two for two?’

‘No.’ He huffed. ‘Women are just complicated.’

‘Or maybe men are just dumb.’ You smiled sweetly, before brushing a hand through his hair. ‘You should get some rest.’

‘So should you.’

‘I’m fine.’ You shook your head. ‘I’ve got a meeting with Merlin in the morning. We’ll have to leave at eight.’

‘Do I have to go? Merlin hasn’t said anything to me-’

‘- yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I said so.’

He couldn’t argue with that. 

--

The following morning, you were headed for the Kingsman headquarters by 9AM. Having filled Eggsy with some coffee and half a bacon-sandwich, he had cheered up considerably. You did feel for him - he had been right when he said that women were confusing - but your attention was still very much on work. That was the norm, really. You lived and breathed for your job. It wasn’t your whole identity but it was certainly your whole life. You were recruited at eighteen and now, it was all you knew. The other agents were your family. 

‘C’mon, Eggsy!’ You demanded, practically leaping out your car. Your arms were piled high with files, keys dangling from your fingers as you kicked the door to the Mustang shut. It had been a present from Kingsmen for a particularly successful mission. 

‘There’s no rush.’ Eggsy chided from behind you. ‘You should enjoy a little leisurely stroll once in a while. It might do that vein on your forehead some good.’ 

Whilst you were decked out in a blazer and black jeans, Eggsy was in his usual snapback and sports jacket. He trailed beside you, hands stuffed in his pockets as you both slipped inside the shop. It was quiet inside, the only sounds coming from the bell on the door and the sound of your heels on the polished wooden floors. You didn’t just wear them because they made your legs look endless - they doubled up as weapons too. Merlin hadn’t done anything special to them, it was just that anything was a blade if you tried hard enough. Your five inch Christian Louboutins were no different. The fact the bottoms were already red was purely a convenient coincidence. 

‘She still hasn’t called me.’ Eggsy murmured. 

‘I’m sure she will.’ You gave his arm a light squeeze. ‘Tilde loves you, Egghead.’ 

‘Fucking ‘ell.’ He let out a snort. ‘You haven’t called me that in years.’

The two of you made your way down the hall and towards the meeting room. Merlin was already sitting at the table, pens and notepads laid out in front of him. Considering that you’d worked together for years, you hardly knew the man. He was always working, always building new gadgets or arranging missions. Did he ever sleep? You wouldn’t have been surprised if it turned out that he’d been a droid this whole time. Someone had mentioned his name being Hamish once, but he didn’t seem like a Hamish. You always pegged him as more of a...Simon. Or a Mark. 

‘You two are late.’ He greeted you. 

‘It’s nine o’clock.’ You shot back, dropping into the seat opposite him. 

‘Early is on time.’ Merlin folded his arms across his chest. ‘On time is late.’

You rolled your eyes at the agent. ‘You know how London traffic can be.’

Choosing to ignore your comment, the Scotsman hit a few buttons on the table in front of him. The whiteboard in front of you jumped to life, lighting up with a picture of New York City - specifically, Midtown. You’d been to the city several times for work, usually to do recon or on protection details for British politicians before diplomatic visits. Outside of that, any missions in North America were outside of the Kingmen’s authority. That was when it fell to the USA’s secret services - a bunch of people you weren’t particularly fond of working with. 

‘Calahan slipped out of the country.’ Merlin stated. ‘He’s been spotted in Manhattan by several of our contacts at the Bureau.’ 

‘What?!’ You guffawed. ‘I thought we had tabs on him. You told me we had tabs on him-’

‘- let me finish, Percival.’ He cut you off. ‘We let him.’

‘You…’ you scoffed in disbelief. ‘You let a known terrorist escape the borders?! You know that I’ve had tabs on him for months! Are you trying to waste my time?’

‘Calm down, agent!’ Merlin repeated, this time in a more firm tone. It was easy to let your temper get the best of you - but at the same time, it was the very thing that had allowed you to force your colleagues into submission. ‘He has more charges on his back in American jurisdiction. We have a better chance of convicting him over there.’

‘You could have told me that before I spent six months tailing him.’ You dropped back in your chair, folding your arms tightly across your chest. 

‘Your mission isn’t over.’ Merlin replied. ‘You know more about Calahan than any men here or across the pond. I want you posted in New York for a few months.’

‘Oh?’ You sat up, interest peaked. 

Working internationally was usually the first step to becoming a senior agent. It was one thing to commandeer the respect of your colleagues but to throw your name into the ring on a global scale? That was how you made it big time - and big time meant big time. Your work would go from being based in London, to taking you all over the world. Kingsman who worked on an international level could be in Moscow one day and Bogota the next. Once they retired, they were legends. It was the kind of success you’d dreamed of your whole life.

And New York was the first stepping stone. 

‘It’s only if you want it, of course.’ Merlin pulled you from your thoughts. ‘The Statesman have agreed to accommodate you, should you choose to accept.’

‘Statesmen?’ You tried to hide the displeasement in your face. ‘Like...the cowboys?’

‘Is there a problem, Percival?’

‘No!’ You quickly replied. ‘It’s just...I worked with one of them once. It wasn’t great.’

‘Here we go.’ Eggsy murmured from beside you. ‘She witnessed Agent Tequila make tea in the microwave.’

‘And I swore never to work with them again.’ You hissed under your breath, fists clenching.

‘I can see how that would be disturbing.’ Merlin agreed. ‘Though I’m not entirely sure it’s enough reason to turn down a potentially career changing mission.’

‘No, you’re right.’ You nodded. ‘But I can bring my own kettle, right?’

--

‘I can’t believe you brought your own fucking kettle.’

‘And I can’t believe that Merlin is making me drag you along-’

‘- it’s only for a week.’ Eggsy held his hands up in defense.

Eggsy, who had momentarily forgotten his relationship woes, had been posted out in the city with you for the first five or six days. Merlin and Arthur had been pretty insistent on him joining you - something about making sure you didn’t blow your lid at a cowboy. It was funny, because you were usually the one babysitting him. That being said, deep down you were glad to have him there with you. It would have made settling in a little easier. 

You were moving faster than him, the sound of your heels clicking on the marble floors of the Statesman headquarters as you floated towards the front desk. The building was right in central Manhattan, bang in the middle of all the beautiful things New York had to offer. Not that you were going to experience many of them - you were here to work, after all. 

‘Percival!’ Agent Tequila was posted by the front desk, a grin spread across his face as your eyes met. ‘And...I know they told me your name, but I’ve forgotten.’

‘He’s Galahad 2.0.’ You stuck your hand out to Tequila, offering him the kettle. ‘This is for you.’

‘A...a kettle?’ The agent gave you an odd look. 

‘If I’m going to be working with you for the next few months, I cannot witness you making tea in a microwave.’ You explained. ‘I may murder you in your sleep otherwise.’

‘Jeez, lady.’ He muttered. He would have argued, but if there was one thing he’d learnt from your last collaboration, it was that nobody entered into a fight with you and won. ‘But it’s okay, you’re not with me this time.’

‘Oh?’ You quirked an eyebrow. Tequila began to make his way to the lift, signalling for you and Eggsy to follow. 

‘No, you’re with Whiskey this time.’ He explained, pressing the button for the top floor. ‘He’s a little more senior than me.’

‘Whiskey and Tequila?’ Eggsy muttered in your ear. ‘What’s their boss called? Pale ale?’

‘Champagne.’ You replied. 

‘Good one.’ He snorted.

‘No, Eggsy.’ You whispered back. ‘He’s actually called Champagne.’

‘Fucking hell.’ 

Yeah, you thought, that kinda sums it up.

The three of you stepped out the lift and onto the top floor. The views from the windows were almost breath-taking; it wasn’t often that you got to see 360 degree views of one of the most beautiful cities in the world. The skyscrapers stretched out further than the eye could see, eventually melting together in the distance where the sky met the land. It was almost breath-taking just to think about - the people, the opportunities, the magic that New York had to offer. London was your home, and you couldn’t even begin to dream of leaving, but your mind did wander off a little. 

‘Whiskey! I got your girl!’ Tequila yelled, pressing a button on an intercom outside one of the offices. He gave Eggsy a quick glance. . ‘And...the other one.’

‘Sweet Jesus, Tequila!’ A strong Southern accent came back. ‘You don’t gotta yell every time you use the fucking thing! I’m gonna be deaf as a goddamn doornail before I’m fifty.’

A moment later, the door to the office opened and Agent Whiskey stepped out. He was about the same height as Tequila, but a little older. He was wearing a cow-boy hat and there was a...was it a swagger? A spring in his step? Either way, the temptation to stick your foot out and stop him in his tracks was overwhelming. 

‘Well hello, pretty lady.’ Whiskey greeted you with a shit-eating grin. ‘I hear that you’re the little birdy who’s gonna give me Calahan?’

‘I prefer Percival.’ You monotonously replied. ‘And if I’m the little birdy that’s gonna give you Calahan, then you must be the yankee who stole him from me.’

‘Girl’s gotta bite.’ He gave your hand a shake. ‘I like that.’

‘This is Galahad.’ You pointed to Eggsy, who was inwardly holding his breath at the whole exchange. He was mentally counting down the minutes before you smacked off Whiskey’s cowboy hat. ‘Let’s see if you can acknowledge his gender three times in one breath-’

‘- okay, that’ll do!’ Your best friend pulled you back, taking Whiskey’s hand in place of yours. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Whiskey.’

‘Please, call me Jack.’ The cowboy replied. 

‘Whiskey. Jack.’ Eggsy murmured under his breath. ‘Oh my days! Imagine if your surname was Daniels.’

After a brief conversation with Jack about his surname - during which you had seen Eggsy Unwin more entertained than ever before - you were taken down the hall to the agent’s office. Meanwhile, Eggsy and Tequila were escorted off to exchange some files that you’d both gathered. 

Whiskey’s office was exactly as you could have predicted; a mixture of dark wood furniture and red tones. The air smelt of his aftershave, with a hint of brandy and earth.

‘Your desk is that one there.’ Whiskey gestured to a slightly smaller set-up in the corner. 

‘I don’t get my own office?’

‘Since we’re gonna be working in close proximity, Champ figured it was best we double up.’ He explained. ‘Saves us doing a whole revolving door movement when we gotta talk to one another.’

‘Makes sense.’ You placed your bag on the desk, admiring the view for a moment. All of your files on Calahan had been uploaded to the Statesmen’s online cloud, whilst your other belongings had been delivered to the apartment you were staying in. ‘Nice view.’

‘It ain’t bad.’ Whiskey nodded. ‘You been to this neck of the woods before?’ 

‘Only when British diplomats need a babysitter.’ You replied.

‘Babysitting?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘That’s what you Kingsmen do? You babysit?’

‘Why d’you think Eggsy is here?’ You shot back. ‘To babysit me.’

‘Now why would a well-mannered redcoat such as yourself need a babysitter?’ He could barely hide the grin in his voice, leaning back against the window as he peered at you over his glasses.

‘How would I put it in your terms?’ You pondered for a moment, offering Whiskey a sweet smile. ‘Is there a Southern term for I eat cowboys alive?’ 

He gulped. ‘I...I don’t think we got one for that yet.’ 

You nodded, turning your attention back to staring at the view in front of you. ‘You should come up with one. It might be useful.’ 

[stusbunker]

BGDC: Stay Down

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Mini-series

Featuring: Female Hunter!Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Chuck and Jack

Written for: @supernatural-jackles​​ Tell Me A Story Bingo

Summary: Everything comes to a head. Can she do better this time? Is there anything worth salvaging? Chuck has his own thoughts.

Square filled: In Vino Veritas

Word Count: 2615

Warnings: THIS HURTS, Flashbacks in italics, canon-ish, verbal arguments, that pesky motherfucker HOPE, Chuck is still a dick.

Series Masterlist

Inherit the Earth con’t

    It had taken Sam two weeks to get out of Dean what happened, why she left. It was not his proudest moment, but the thought of her in their home made him sick. So, he had shown her the door. He thought he was her hero, he’d never imagined she’d treat him like a piece of meat.

    There were some lines that you shouldn’t cross and he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to forgive her that.

The drive to Sam and Jack feels like an eternity, even ignoring all traffic laws. The day is bright, but the impala rumbles garishly, a black omen. The static hiss of unmanned radio stations gives her something to do. She diligently sorts the tapes, finds something to fill the void. 

Melody as white noise. A band aid on a bullet wound. Dean can’t fix what’s been broken. But she never even tried.

Sam cries at the sight of her. She runs into his arms and he squeezes until he can’t any longer. An ounce of redemption in the ocean of guilt. Sam glances over her head to his brother, he feels the other shoe drop.

“Where’s Cas?” Jack’s obvious question echoes the shame in the new arrivals’ eyes. She holds her breath as Dean explains, like she’s waiting for his story before she can move on. Like he didn’t tell her either.

Sam aches with what he’s allowed to happen. The old internal rage gnashing at his gut as he screams in an abandoned restaurant. They’re what was left behind. All they have left to do is give Chuck what he wants.

His ending, at last.

Dean didn’t tell her what he and Sam were doing. Didn’t need an outside opinion on this one. Instead he asked her to keep an eye on Jack, knowing she’d say yes. He guessed he wasn’t done asking for things. The sight of Chuck makes him see red. But this was it, he’d die with his brother beside him. For the world.

When Chuck blows off their offer, he can’t say that he’s surprised. Disgusted, angry, regretful maybe, but Dean’s not surprised. 

The house always wins.

They crash at a motel for the night, everyone gets their own rooms for a change. She knocks on his door just after midnight with a bottled peace offering and her ratty sleep clothes. Dean doesn’t need this right now, but he doesn’t have the energy to be cruel.

“Where’d you get this?” Dean holds the amber liquid up to the light to read the label.

“Liquor store down the street. Don’t even feel bad for taking the five finger discount anymore,” she sighs and drops on the spare bed. “You gonna tell me about your little side mission or do I just get to guess at the outcome?”

Dean cracks the bottle open and sighs. “Bupkis. So, nothing to tell, really.”

She’s watching him for signs of lies, at least she’s not overtly antagonistic with her appraisal.

He offers her the bottle and she shakes her head. ‘Maybe she learned her lesson,’ he thinks and then takes a long pull off the glass rim.

“So, the Empty, huh?” Dean grimaces as she closes her eyes, taken aback.

“What makes you think I want to talk about it?” Her faces pinches and he is just too fucking tired.

“Because you always want to talk about it. It was kind of a thing.” Dean shrugs.

“I came to check on you, dumbass,” she mutters. He sits on his bed, leaves the bottle between them on the nightstand.

He doesn’t stop the sour hum that claws up his throat. He was trying to play nice, but she just had to keep on being the tough guy. “Funny, didn’t think you cared much what happened to me anymore, or how I feel about things at least.”

She has the gall to look surprised, but underneath it he sees she’s almost as tired as he is. “I did not come here looking for a fight. If you’ve got something to say to me--- Maybe you should remember who called who. And who dropped everything to help.”

“And I don’t seem to remember you doing too much of that,” Dean snaps back, turning his head only.

She pauses and Dean feels a little smug that he’s getting to her. But not nearly as much as he should. He cocks his eyebrows, waiting for her obvious answer.

She shoves him back on his proverbial heels instead. “We both know you were just keeping tabs on me. There wasn’t anything for me to do. And then I became a fucking bargaining chip. So screw you, Dean. I’m not here for a performance review.”

“I think we already established, no one is screwing anyone here,” Dean mutters, letting his head fall back against the wall. 

“Is that what this is about?! You are honestly bringing that shit up now?!”

“So what if I am? Better than acting like it never happened. Playing the fucking martyr,” Dean bites back. “I, at least, own my shit. Maybe you should try it some time.”

“You kicked me out! What was I supposed to do, wait on a damn cross until you finished your case?!” She still doesn’t get it. Dean’s chest is writhing with all the things they never buried.

“It doesn’t matter. We were family. And you threw it all away,” Dean lays it out.

“ME?!”

“Yes, you!” Dean’s standing, hunching over her, unleashing. “You had to make it about your feelings and the crush you had on me when we were kids. Don’t you see? It was more than that. We WERE more than that. But you were lonely, or horny or needed to drown your feelings. And you cheapened everything. And now---- we can’t even have a real conversation.”

It’s like he’s looking at a completely different person. He doesn’t even know her anymore. 

“Dean, I---” He cuts her off, this was entirely pointless.

“Don’t, okay? Just--- leave it. I’m gonna get some air.” Dean starts towards the door and slumps, half turned he continues, “Look, I’m glad you didn’t get stuck in the Empty. But Cas did---- And to be clear, this wasn’t ever about rebuilding bridges, it was about stopping Chuck. And we couldn’t manage that.--- But we can’t just go back to the way things were just because we’re all that’s left. The sooner you understand that, the easier this will be--- for everybody.”

The heaviness of wasted effort sinks into his shoulders. Dean closes the door behind him with a gentle click. They both know she’ll be gone before he gets back.

No one left in the entire world and one of my oldest friends still doesn’t want me around. This wasn’t humble pie, it was a goddamn humility infused vat of pie filling. Not a spoon in sight.

Fuck him. Fucking pie metaphors even. Fucking brain.

I leave the damn whiskey, but I really want to throw it against the wall. Dump it in his boots. Bath in it. But I don’t. I give him his twenty paces and I duck out, bypass my room, Jack’s, and head back towards the liquor store. There was a pick-up I might be able to hot wire, if I remember where I saw it.

I mash my lips together to stop their quake, but everything keeps clawing its way up, centering itself in my way. I did this. The one person I needed to believe in me and I fucking ruined it. It was never about Amara, or Cas or him being too good for me. I just wanted what wasn’t there. 

The dirtiness slides down and clings to me, like a wet coat. An unwashable stain, that’s all my presence is anymore. I don’t want to be where I am unwanted, unneeded, unuseful. Well, useless really. But, I can’t lose Sam too. Not again and definitely not now. I stop when I spot the truck. 

Running isn’t going to mend what running severed.

Know better, do better.

I creep back to the motel and pretend to sleep. There are salt lines dried across my skin when Jack knocks on my door.

The sun still rises. Dean tosses his things in his bag, even the whiskey. Waste not want not. They’re heading home to regroup or to hide or just for something to do. He doesn’t care, but being out in the open feels like he’s leaving them open for an ambush, or Chuck’s prying eyes at the very least.

He knows they’re not safe from that anywhere. It just feels safer somehow.

Dean feels good in motion. Sam’s at his side, while she and Jack sit in their own quiet corners in the back. The looming reality of an empty planet unnoticeable on the backroads. Denial is a helluva drug.

So is hope. Good thing he kicked that one.

When they pull into the garage, he doesn’t even bother grabbing his duffel from the trunk. Dean bee lines for the hard stuff and no one even bats an eye.

Maybe he has always been that predictable. Maybe he no longer cares.

I’m sitting on my bed, flipping through an old photo album when Sam finds me. It’s been three days and the bunker just keeps getting hollower the longer we stay inside. It’s like Chuck is slowly strangling the oxygen from the air.

I’m pretty sure I’ll be the first one to break.

Dean’s too far into a pity party at the bottom of a bottle to be pushed off any one edge and Sam’s too good at keeping on. Of course, Jack is getting by on sheer purity of spirit.

“How you holding up?” Sam’s voice is scratchy, but familiar, I don’t know the last time we actually spoke. I don’t really make eye contact, but shrug all the same.

“You?” I ask, unnecessarily.

He sits down beside me, looking over my shoulder. He huffs out a laugh at one of the pictures.

“I can’t believe you managed to keep all of these,” Sam says as he reaches over and slides his finger tips over the poorly taped Polaroids.

“They were at Bobby’s for a while, but I dug them out of a storage unit after--- well, after I fucked things up with your brother. Figured they were all I had left after that.”

Sam inhales at my bluntness, cocks his head because it hurts to hear, but also doesn’t sit right. What a doof.

“Spit it out, Legs, I know you wanna say something,” I goad.

“I guess I don’t really--- what happened?” Sam’s eternal need to know things going for my weak spot. “I mean, Dean said you tried to put the moves on him, but I guess, why was it so horrible?”

“Well, I actually have some new information on that front,” I offer, turning to face him and placing the memories on the far side of the bed. 

Sam’s brows pitch. 

“Apparently, I--- cheapened everything. Dean thought whatever our relationship was, was more important than hooking up. And I made it all about me.”

“He said that?” Sam asks in a hush.

“Yup,” I huff out. “And a very firm, ‘there is no rebuilding bridges’,” I say in my best/worst Dean voice.

“Wow.” Sam looks to the ceiling then scratches the back of his head. He doesn’t know what to say.

“It’s okay, I mean, I did kiss him. I knew it was a bad idea, but I had psyched myself up that entire night, misread everything. I’ve never been the one guys willingly go home with. I shouldn’t have forced it.”

“Don’t say that. You’ve had---,” Sam breaks off when he thinks about my asshole ex.

“I’ve had a couple of real winners,” I finish for him. “But it’s okay. Because now we’re the last people on Earth. No one left to break my heart.”

I slap the edge of the mattress and lurch to my feet, ignoring the pain in Sam’s eyes. He just lost Eileen and here I am moping about something that happened over two years ago. Once a shitty friend, always a shitty friend.

“You can keep looking through that if you want. I’m gonna start dinner,” I add at the door.

Sam nods, but he doesn’t reach for the album. He just sits on my bed and chews the inside of his lips.

Jack’s feeling things and Sam’s looking at Dean with insistence, but Dean’s hungover-leeched brain is not putting things together.

“What?!” 

Sam grimaces, heavy on the bitch factor. “I think you should be the one to tell her we’ve got a lead. Meanwhile, I’ll start packing the car.”

“Great. Sure.” Dean does little to hide his disdain. Sam doesn’t budge.

He grunts through an explanation as she cleans her gun. Luckily, she doesn’t ask too many questions because the vibrations of his own voice are adding to the throbbing at the base of his skull. 

She slips him a bottle of painkillers before ducking into the back seat next to Jack. He doesn’t say thank you, but he knows she knows he’s grateful. They used to be able to do that, not as easily as he and Sam, but silent communication was possible, once.

He gets them on the road before noon, the familiar feel of the wheel in his hands steadies Dean until the pain starts to subside. The soft, yet urgent Jack-P-S guiding their way.

They stop for an inevitable pitstop and Dean gets hit with a pure dose of that damning hope. A white, shaggy dog is laying outside the men’s room and his face breaks into a smile for the first time in weeks. It’s the proof he needed aside from Jack’s fuzzy radar.

Chuck didn’t get everything.

He scoops the dog up and shows him off to Sam, forgetting entirely about his need to pee. He sets the sudden miracle in the backseat, promises there’ll be enough room for him.

That’s when Dean spots Chuck in the field, menacing and knowing. Dean straightens on instinct, facing the threat. As Chuck raises his hand to snap, a gushing voice rushes to Dean’s side.

“Oh, who’s a good boy?!” She doesn’t see their destructive creator waiting in the wings and Dean moves to shield her from Chuck’s gaze. 

It’s too late.

Suddenly Chuck is standing beside the impala’s trunk.

“Now, how exactly did I miss you?” Chuck gapes, the disbelief and rage shifting across his once amiable face.

She chokes on her breath, freezes on the spot. Dean sees the power trip flash in Chuck’s piercing blue gaze. He likes when people are fearful, he likes to see them squirm.

“She wasn’t here when you iced everybody, Chuck. It doesn’t matter anyway, it’s still just us,” Dean reasons, downplaying her worth.

“Nah, I don’t like it. It’s supposed to be you and Sam. Jack, fine. He’s just a pet anyway. But her? You guys get over your crap and suddenly there’s a whole new generation of thorns in my side. Sorry,” Chuck huffs and snaps his fingers. She disappears faster than Dean could take it in. “Not sorry.”

“What the hell?!” Dean barks. Panic, rage, and overwhelming sadness shoot through him as he dives towards Chuck. But he’s gone before Dean can get there. Falling to the gravel, gracelessly, Dean spins on his knees to see if Sam or Jack are still alive and accounted for. He spots their silhouettes through the convenience store windows. With that little platitude, Dean staggers over to soothe the dog’s sudden whimper. And then it vanishes too.

Maybe Dean never made it out of Hell after all.

Tell me what you think?

Tagging: @peridottea91​​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​​ @cosicas-cuquis​​ @flamencodiva​​ @akshi8278​​​ @dontshootmespence​​​ @smi727​​​ @ericaprice2008​​​ @crashdevlin​​​ @dolphincliffs​​​ @spnfamily-j2​​  

Read On: Free Will

[wolvesandpetals]

Loki x Sylvie Playing House Part 3 (Humor, Romance), Rated T. Full on Sylki hijinks, as promised!

Masterlist of my Sylki fanfics here.

---

The first thing she does when Thor leaves is Google herself. Apparently, she was a child actor and made a fortune there, before transitioning into modelling, and later into a successful influencing career.

"That makes perfect sense to me", Loki comments. "If I was not a prince, I would have chosen to be an actor too. Just imagine, legions of fans screaming your name, begging for your attention for just one moment, hanging onto your every word, willing to worship the very ground you walk on. Now, that is the dream." He pauses, cherishing the image in his head. "There's also the money. Looks like you and I will never have to work a day in our lives. We can just live off your money."

[[MORE]]

Sylvie feels the muscles in her laws instinctively tense. This is not her life, or her reality. She can't imagine spending eternity here. She looks at Loki sternly. "We can not. We have to return to the TVA."

"Yes, of course." He agrees immediately. A part of him likes this life. But another part of him knows there is never a gain without a loss. The universe finds a way to make him pay for every bit of happiness he ever gets. Who knows what the price may be if he chooses to stay, with his family, and with Sylvie right here?

Sylvie sets down the laptop on the bedside table, ignoring the danger of Loki's glass being knocked over and drenching it. She cannot let herself be concerned with such simple things. Ignoring them is the surest way to covince herself she hates it here. "I was wondering, if Thor can get into this town, and if he remembers us leaving this town in the past, does it mean we are free to leave?"

Loki studies her features, the resolute glint in her eyes and the defiant stance of her chin. It is clear that she will stop at nothing to get back to the TVA. "We should test it out." He says, trying to sound as calm as possible. "Where do you wanna go?"

"Maybe we can go to Oklahoma? See my supposed parents?" She attempts to play it off like it's nothing, even though she knows exactly what it means- temptation. The urge to see what this life looks like is ever-growing.

"Why can't we go to Asgard and see my parents instead?" He counters immediately.

Sylvie purses her lips, trying not to reveal her emotions. She doesn't remember her Odin or Frigga at all. A part of her longs to meet this version of them, but another part wonders how overwhelming it would feel, watching Loki occupy her place, have her life, her "parents" in this timeline. "Fine. How about we pick a neutral location first?"

"Fine." He replies curtly.

"Fine!" Her irritation escalates. She grabs the laptop again, opening up a tab to a travel website, ready to book a flight.

"LA?" He suggests.

"You just want the paparazzi attention, don't you?" She points out, but doesn't resist. "Alright."

September 1st. The date is set. They will be off to LA within three days, and if whatever being that has placed them here does not want them to leave, they will know by then.

---

"Do you really need all of these sunglasses?" Sylvie asks, after Loki stashes the fifth one in his backpack.

"Of course, I do." He defends. "Style? Remember?"

"Travelling light, remember?" She hits back, taking out two random pairs and throwing them back on her dresser. "Just take what you absolutely need."

"I absolutely need my sunglasses." He says stubbornly.

She can either give in on this trivial matter, or she can dig her heels in and fight it out with him. A stupid pair of sunglasses is not worth the effort. "Fine." And in return, there's something that he has to compromise for her as well. "Only if you help me get my swords past security."

"With pleasure." He says with a grin, and with a wave of his hand, the newly arrived swords from eBay are magically cloaked.

Sylvie looks at her own luggage. She has never really owned anything. She jumped from one apocalypse to another, with only her life, and sometimes food supplies for a few days. It feels surreal to look at the clothes in her wardrobe now. The thought of carrying them with her feels even more foreign.

She looks at the tons of products on her dresser, skin creams, lotions, toners, cleansers and heaven knows what else. All the luxuries she never had.

All the luxuries she does not want.

"I'll just pack a change of clothes." She says finally.

"You don't want anything else?" He asks, surprised.

"These are just things, Loki." She explains. "They can be replaced. I have no attachment to them."

---

She regrets not booking first class. She has been on planes before, using crashing aircrafts as a temporary hideout spot to regroup when the TVA was on her tails. As a stowaway, she never realized just how annoying a plane journey can actually be.

Loki graciously offers her the window seat, noting her unease as soon as they board. She thanks him with a smile, and they nod in mutual understanding.

She stares out of the window, at the town that is supposedly her home, and for the first time ever, she feels a pang of homesickness for a place that is not Asgard. She has been here for just five days now, yet, the thought of sleeping in her own bed is so tempting.

Sylvie notices how she is thinking of the bed as her bed now, but tries not to dwell on it too much.

The plane takes off without incidence, and she dozes off quickly. When she wakes up, she notices a thin comforter wrapped around her shoulders. Turning to her side, she sees Loki sleeping as well, his mouth slightly agape. She snuggles close to him, suddenly needing the comfort of his warmth, and the woman on the aisle seat gives her a dirty look. There's a baby crying somewhere in the back, and what feels like the beginning of a massive headache. But all that fades away when she lays her head on his shoulder.

---

When the flight arrives at LAX, they are both a little scared to leave its comfort. They are about to find out if they are free to travel wherever they want, or whether the action had any consequence. Sylvie is the first to take a step out, and they are both relieved to see nothing happens. The baggage claim goes smoothly, though slowly, and they get a cab quickly. Sylvie hides her grin when she sees Loki put on his sunglasses.

"So we're here." He says, staring at Sylvie, while she stares out of the window.

She only hums in response.

"Is this your honeymoon?" The driver asks.

Loki laughs nervously. "No, no. We've been married for quite a long time. This is just... a vacation."

The driver recommends them a lot of tourist places. Sylvie tunes him out. This is just a test. She has no interest in touring LA. They have their return flight scheduled for the next day.

They check into their hotel room, and she plops down on the bed immediately. "It seems we are free to leave the town. Just not the reality, I suppose." She runs her hands over the silky sheets, amused. "I must say, whoever placed us here has taken every measure to make this prison comfortable."

Loki follows suit and takes a seat beside her. "I suppose that is indeed generous of him. Or her."

Sylvie turns to the side to look at him. "So how do we get out of here then? Got any plan?"

He shrugs. It's not like there's a book called What to do when you find yourself trapped in an alternate universe with your alternate self for Dummies. "Right now, the plan is to get some dinner, then some sleep. Then perhaps in the morning we can see a bit of LA?"

"You want to play tourist?" She asks in a neutral tone.

He replies in kind, testing the waters. "We are here already, and we have the time, so why not?"

"Okay." She replies, a little unsure, but not entirely opposed to the idea. The weariness of the journey starts taking its toll on her. She messages her temples with her fingertips. "Should we order room service?"

Loki contemplates for a moment. On the one hand, she looks really tired, and she could use a good night's sleep. On the other hand, she has been completely on edge and razor focused on the mission since they got in this mess. Well, since they met, actually, and probably for centuries before that. She could also use a bit of fun and relaxation.

With that in mind, he carefully voices his proposal. "I was thinking maybe we can go down to the restaurant and have a proper dinner."

Sylvie looks up, grinning mischievously. She's about to call his bluff. "What, like a date?" His deer-in-the-headlights reaction makes her laugh. "Calm down, I'm just teasing you."

---

It's not a date, but it kind of is. It's a four course meal and a fine bottle of champagne over candlelight, after all.

"Was it like this? Back at Asgard?" Sylvie wonders.

"Mostly. But Asgard was grand, elegant. This is..."

"A cheap replacement." She completes.

Loki smiles. "Precisely."

They talk about their Asgard bedrooms, the similarities and the differences between their safe haven in the palace. An hour passes swiftly.

"The wine is good." Sylvie comments, sipping on her first glass of wine, when the champagne is drained.

"Yes, quite good." Loki agrees, on his first glass as well.

The tiniest buzz starts to take root in him, and his mind wanders into the realm of possibilities, the future he can have, here and now. His eyes focus on the brighest object in front of him- Sylvie.

She feels her cheeks flush under his gaze. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You are just so..." He blinks. What is another word for Asgard's Sun when it disappears into the azure lakes? "Breathtaking"

Her lips curve into a shy smile. This is the beginning of the same foolishness he showed on the train in Lamentis-1 that almost got them killed. But right now, their life isn't in imminent danger. Right now, she is just amused. "Wow, you really can't hold your liquor, can you?"

"Of course I can. I am Loki, Prince of Asgard." He declares proudly.

"Yes, yes, I've heard the speech." She says it with a smile and an eye-roll. "We should get you upstairs."

He objects immediately. "But I'm not done yet."

"Oh, I think you're quite done." She beckons the nearest waiter. "Can we get the bill, please?"

He can still walk surprisingly well, but she holds his hand tightly, just in case he decides to take a detour, and drags him into the elevator.

"Blonde looks good on you." He comments out of the blue. "Maybe I should go blonde too."

She grins. "Like Thor?"

He glares at her. "You're a buzzkill."

---

Sylvie opens the door after fumbling with the keys for a minute. She is starting to feel the effect of the alcohol as well. She takes off her shoes and her earrings, while Loki runs to the loo.

"Why did you book a room for two?" He asks in a serious tone, leaning against the door-frame of the bathroom.

Sylvie freezes, her hand hanging mid-air for five uncomfortable seconds before she awkwardly drops it to her side.

Why did she book a room for two? She could have just rented separate rooms, or at least ones with separate beds. It's not like she and Loki are actually together.

But they have been. At least for the past few days. Why do they need separate rooms here when they share a bed back home?

Home. Sylvie realises with alarm that she's thinking of her prison as her home.

Is this reality starting to mess with her mind now?

"It's okay, I don't want to leave you either." Loki's voice pulls her out of her inner monologue. She turns around quickly in his direction. He's still drunk, and it shows, but he has a look on his face that she has never seen before- a mix of resolution and fondless. His eyes whisper silent vows of loyalty, and something else, something he can't quite express yet. "I will never leave you."

Sylvie smiles, closing the distance between them and standing next to him. Her hand finds his by sheer instinct. "Good to know."

"I mean it, Sylvie." He gives her hand a reassuring squeeze, before he tugs her along with him as he sits down on the bed, unable to stand any longer in his inebriated state. She is grateful to be seated too, and she's unsure whether it is just the alcohol. "I know you hate it here. But I like this." He indicates at her, then at himself, then back at her. "I like falling asleep next to you, and walking into the kitchen first thing every morning to see you cursing at the microwave. I like how you hum in the shower and scream at the TV."

Sylvie listens quietly, her eyes focused on the feeling of his hand in hers. She is trying to memorize this moment, burn the shape of his fingers and the feel of his touch into her brain, so that when it's gone- when he is gone- like everything in her life always is, she will have another good memory to relive again and again.

Loki continues. "I like the way you burn the pasta every time you try to cook."

"I don't burn the whole dish." She retorts playfully. "Just the bottom part."

He shakes his head to show he disagrees. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Her heartbeat quickens. Is he going to confess that he has feelings for her?

Does he have feelings for her?

"Sure." She barely whispers back.

Loki double-checks. "Promise me that you will never tell yourself?"

She laughs softly. "I promise."

Loki tenses, suddenly looking sober. He lets go of her hand, to rest his by his side, his fingers clenched into a fist. Mastering all his courage, he finally speaks. "I don't want to leave. Ever. I like it here."

Sylvie looks away, suddenly needing air. Hearing Loki say that makes her feel irrationally angry. He promised to be on her side every step of the way, but the minute he finds a life he likes, he's ready to throw in the towel.

A part of the anger stems from the fact that she knows, a major reason he wants to stay is her, this life he has with her. Two Lokis on any other timeline will cause Nexus events. But here, they are free to be together. Timelines don't start branching off like a growing vine on timelapse video every time they touch. And he wants that. She knows this because he has all but said it with his words and his actions.

And because she wants it too. Damn it, she wants it so much. She is getting sucked into this reality, indeed.

But she knows she has to finish what she started- she owes it to herself, and to the people out there who need her help, who will be robbed of their lives if she doesn't stop whoever is doing this.

She wants to-

- But she can't.

"Loki, I-" she stops when she turns around to see he has already fallen asleep. Wordlessly, she wraps the comforter over his sleeping form, before crawling under it herself. Turning to her side, facing away from him, she wonders what's next for them.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Strangers (Part 4)

Summary: Sam has returned into Dean’s life for some reason and the reader is there to try and help Dean through having Sam around again...

Masterlist

Pairing: Doctor!Dean x patient!reader

Word Count: 2,000ish

Warnings: language, mention of surgery/injury

A/N: I hope you enjoy!

____

“Hi,” said Sam, giving you a quick wave. He stared at Dean who was already on his feet. “I need a place to crash for the night. If that’s okay.”

“What happened to the apartment, you were sharing with that girl, Jessica.”

“She died a few years ago,” he said.

“You kill her?” asked Dean. You got up, still holding your box of swiss rolls and Sam frowned. “You’ve been out of touch for three years. It’s not an unreasonable question.”

“I didn’t kill her,” said Sam. “I saw...it was a serial arsonist. I saw who did it and he ran with a bad group. I’ve been in witness-”

“Witness protection? Are you serious? I’m the fucking easter bunny while we’re at it,” said Dean.

“De, I think he’s telling the truth,” you said, nodding towards him. “He’s obviously upset.”

“You’ve been in witness protection? This whole time?”

“Yes,” said Sam. “Things have been happening lately. A lot of things. These guys are no longer a problem so I can come home. Except for the fact I don’t have a home anymore and had to drop out of college.”

“I filed a missing persons report on you.”

“I know.”

“I hung up flyers, search parties, fundraisers.”

“I know.”

“I drove to the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night because I thought I got a tip about you.”

“That was me. I had to relocate after that.”

“I looked for you for so long. Even when mom and dad gave up, I didn’t. There was no foul play but the cops told us it was unlikely we’d ever find you. You probably walked out and didn’t want to be found. I was so angry at you. They told us you were dead cause someone hurt you or you walked away. Those are two very different things,” said Dean. You dropped the box on the couch and grabbed his hand, Dean pinching his nose with his other. 

“I can leave if you want,” said Sam.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” said Dean. You rubbed his back and he walked over, giving his brother a hug.

“Finally got a girlfriend?” teased Sam as he returned it.

“You two are gonna get along great. You can swap stories,” laughed Dean. “Oh, I need a drink. Also how’d you get in my house?”

“My handler had a key made. They took it from your locker at the hospital,” he said.

“Lovely.”

“I know it sounds…” said Sam as he glanced at you. 

“Crazy is kind of our thing,” you said. “I’m Y/N.”

“You look familiar,” he said.

“My ex boyfriend tried to kill me. With bleach. In my drink.”

“Oh yeah. He was fucking nuts,” said Sam.

“Yup. That’s been our fun for the evening,” you said. “He got out. He’s dead now. It’s fine. Better than fine cause I’m gonna eat a whole box of swiss rolls and not feel bad about that.”

“Yeah, I will get along with you just fine,” said Sam, giving Dean a look. “Not sure about you though. I wanted to-”

“S’okay,” he said. “I’m just...happy you don’t hate me after all.”

“I wanted to call you so many times. It was too dangerous though. I couldn’t put you in that position,” said Sam.

“I’m getting kind of used to that,” said Dean. Sam smiled and you walked over to them both. 

“I crashed date night, didn’t I,” he said.

“Just a bit,” said Dean.

“Well I am really happy to meet Dean’s little brother,” you said, giving him a hug. “You don’t mind if Sam hangs out with us, right?”

“No, never. As long as you’re cool with it,” said Dean. 

“Of course,” you said.

“I appreciate it but honestly I’m wrecked. I could use with a shower and a bed,” said Sam.

“The guest room is right down the hall,” said Dean, pointing the way. “You hungry?”

“Nah. I’ll keep out of your guys hair,” said Sam. “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem,” said Dean. Sam started to head for the hallway when Dean grabbed his arm. “I’m really happy you’re home, Sammy.”

“Me too.”

He smiled before he left, Dean taking a deep breath as he locked up the front door again.

“So you got a brother,” you said.

“Yeah. I probably should have brought him up at some point,” said Dean. You shrugged and rested your hands on his hips, Dean smiling softly. “I thought he was dead.”

“I’m glad he’s not,” you said. “I’m gonna have to back out on the being roommates thing though.”

“What?” he asked.

“Sam needs it way more than I do. I can stick around my parents until my apartment is ready. Seriously, it’s okay. He’s gonna need a lot of help. Trust me. He’s gonna want you,” you said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. My parents aren’t that bad. Someday we can be roommates though?” you said.

“Okay. I’ll take a raincheck for now,” he smiled. 

“Tonight’s not so bad,” you said. He nodded and you pulled him close to your body, Dean’s arms wrapping lazily around you. “You doing okay?”

“I’ve been the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, the most terrified I’ve ever been in my life and the most relieved I’ve ever been in my life tonight. I honestly don’t know where to begin,” said Dean.

“I got a box of chocolate with your name on it that might be a good place to start.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” he said. “You okay too?”

“My night’s ending on a good note. I’m good Dean. Let’s get back to our date. I was in the middle of cuddling you if I remember.”

One Week Later

“Howdy handsome,” you said, the elevator doors at the hospital opening to Dean standing there in his navy scrubs.

“Gorgeous,” he said, giving you a quick kiss as he stepped on. “You already have your follow up with Mace?”

“Yeah. I am progressing well I guess. We’re switching my immunosuppressant to try something that doesn’t make me as tired and won’t make me as susceptible to illness,” you said.

“That’s good. I know you’re on the strong stuff right now. Mace is pretty good about finding the right med combo by the second or third try,” he said. “Transplant meds are tricky.”

“I’ve learned. How’s your day going?” you asked. “Saving lives?”

“Easy going day. Took out some tonsils on a teenager, did an appendectomy on a toddler, did a bone reset on a kid that broke her leg. Nothing they won’t all recover from 100% percent.”

“That sounds good,” you said. “When do you get off?”

He snickered and you whacked his arm.

“Such a boy,” you said.

“I have one more surgery for the day but I’m heading home after that. Our parents are coming into town. They’ve been in Florida cause their vacation plans got screwed up with the pandemic last year so they rescheduled and of course it’s this week and there’s tropical storms so they can’t get a flight out and they finally are getting home today. It’s been a nightmare. I’m supposed to cook dinner so that’ll go wonderfully.”

“You’re a good cook!” you said as the doors opened and you walked with him down the hall. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. They excited to see Sam?”

“Yeah. They feel bad about...they thought he was dead. Like it hasn’t been long enough to legally declare him that way but they were going to. I’ve always had a somewhat tense relationship with my dad. We fought a lot about Sam after he disappeared.”

“I think no matter what happened before, dinner’s gonna go good for you guys tonight,” you said.

“You’re coming right?” he asked. 

“You want me to?”

“Yeah. I...you make me feel...safe,” he said as he stopped walking. You smiled and grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers together. “You don’t have-”

“I’d love to. I really like Sam and I want to be there for you. I like that I make you feel safe, makes me feel good,” you said. He rubbed the back of his neck but you caught the smile on his face. You gave him another kiss, a whistle coming from further down the hall.

“Get a room, Winchester,” said a guy as he walked by with a laugh.

“Better be a soundproof room,” you said, the guy stopping in his tracks.

“Okay, I approve of this one,” the guy chuckled. Dean rolled his eyes but he was biting down a laugh.

“Y/N, this is RN. Lafetite or Benny as well call him. He’s Donna’s boyfriend,” said Dean.

“Oh yeah, she was great,” you said. “She removed my appendix.”

“That woman knows her way around a blade,” said Benny. “You had the digestive transplant done a while ago, right?”

“Yeah,” you said, Dean making a face beside you.

“Badass,” said Benny. “I worked with Mace some on you.”

“You’re a surgeon too?” you asked.

“No, no. I’m a surgical nurse,” he said.

“They’re pretty important,” said Dean. “The really good ones could perform minor surgeries themselves like Ben. I keep trying to convince Benny here to go to med school and join the rest of us.”

“Oh you know you’d miss me too much, Deano. You me and Novak are the dream team of pediatrics,” he said.

“Sure we are,” said Dean with a laugh. “Y/N and I were having a little get together on Sunday, watch a little football, food. Round up the usual suspects?”

“I can get the crew together. I’ll bring my beer dip and some of those pretzels. Very easy on the digestive system,” said Benny to you.

“That’s considerate,” you said. “It’s okay. I’m alright with most stuff. I just got to watch the grease a bit.”

“These are really not greasy at all. I’ll give you the recipe sometime,” said Benny as his phone went off. “I think we’re late for pre-op.”

“When are we not?” said Dean. “I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart.”

“See you later, Dean.”

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” said Dean that night as he rushed in the house. You and Sam were working the kitchen, Dean checking the clock. “They’re gonna be here in five minutes.”

“Go wash up. Sam and I can cook a few pieces of chicken and make mashed potatoes,” you said. You were nearly finished anyways, the chicken baking away in the oven. Dean made a thud down the hall but shouted back that he was fine before you heard the bathroom door shut. “He always been a worrier?”

“Pretty much,” said Sam as he got out the plates. “He seems different. Good different. More easy going.”

“It’s all I’ve ever known from him so I don’t have much to go off of,” you said. 

“You might have something to do with it,” he said. He smiled and finished up with setting the table. “You’ve never met our parents Dean said.”

“No. We’ve only been together a few months,” you said.

“This’ll be an interesting evening then,” said Sam as the doorbell rang. He suddenly looked nervous and you rubbed a hand up and down his back.

“It’ll be okay,” you said. “Trust me.”

“I see why he likes you,” said Sam. “Here goes nothing.”

______

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Do you think animorphs would do well condensed into like, four or five long novels? I feel like the sheer amount of books can be bewildering to a modern audience even if they're so short. I'm a warrior cats junkie so i'm used to it, but if the story was rewritten slightly i bet perception would change a lot

That is a very interesting question, and I think you’re right that if the series came out today it’d be six giant books rather than sixty-odd mini ones.  Sort of like Percy Jackson or Septimus Heap.

I think a six-book series would make the most sense because then you’d be able to keep the rotating narration — one of Animorphs’ greatest strengths — and you could have one book for each of the kids.  Which then begs the question: what story would each of the kids tell?

Ax’s Book: Might make sense to put first in the series.  I get why the original marketing team was hesitant to start with the alien protagonist, but his story is so much about becoming an Animorph that I think he makes sense as a first narrator.  So his story could start with the sequence where he says goodbye to Elfangor and then ends up crashing to Earth.  From there we could get some of the events of #8 with him trying to phone home and discovering in the process that the andalites aren’t quite the saviors he took them for.  Then we could get a plot similar to #18 where Ax is forced to choose between andalite and Animorph loyalties (maybe with bonus elements of #38 thrown in) and ultimately decides that he’s an Animorph first.  It would be a great way to establish the team as a team for the rest of the series, and a chance to convey some important exposition about the whole war between the yeerks and andalites.

Marco’s Book: Would probably cover the Visser One plot.  So the timeline on The Decline and Fall of the Edriss Empire would have to be massively compacted to make it one story.  Which is a shame — I think we lose a lot of nuance if their story isn’t spread out over the course of three years, and if we don’t have Visser One’s and Visser Three’s relative statuses driving a lot of the other plots.  On the other hand, that change could compress a lot of the semi-redundant parts from #15 and #30 into one story, as well as a lot of the semi-redundant parts of Visser and #45.  So there’d be one sequence where Marco finds out about Eva being Visser One’s host, one sequence where the Animorphs help Visser One at Visser Three’s expense and the Yeerk Empire becomes convinced that Visser One is a traitor, and one sequence where the Animorphs end up charging in to rescue Eva from Visser One’s trial.

Tobias’s Book: The hork-bajir plot, of course.  Honestly I think that the events of #23 could easily become an entire Septimus Heap-sized novel without bringing in anything from any other books, just because the plot with Toby and the plot with Elfangor’s letter are both so rich.  However, it could easily loop in some of the events of #13 in order to help establish the hork-bajir, and give us flashbacks to the highlights of The Hork-Bajir Chronicles to give us a sense of the broader scale of the war.  I think the A plot of this book would be the hork-bajir and the evolution of the Animorphs’ complex alliance with them, while the B plot would involve Elfangor’s letter and maybe some of the sequence from #33 with Ax teaching Tobias How to Andalite.

Cassie’s Book: Should probably come somewhere in the late middle of the series, because she’d be alone for a lot of it.  Her story could focus on her relationship with Aftran, including elements of both #19 and #29.  Maybe it could open up with something like #9 with the kids stopping a logging effort in the woods, then go into Cassie ending up separated from the team and forced to rely on Aftran like in #19, culminating in their alliance.  That could launch the plot with everyone getting sick (maybe Ax picked up andalite-flu while looking for Cassie in the woods?) and Cassie going to save Aftran from the yeerk pool alone.  Heck, maybe things could get really interesting at the end if Cassie lets Aftran morph and then makes the mistake of loaning the morphing cube to a different yeerk, who takes it back to the Yeerk Empire and kicks off the plot of #50.

Rachel’s Book: Would be picking up in a very different place from most of her canon narration, if most of the events of #1 - #50 have already occurred.  However, I do like the idea of placing Rachel’s story right as the yeerk threat massively escalates, because so much of her story is about balancing her occasional excesses of violence against the need to do whatever it takes to keep her friends alive.  That means Rachel’s story could cover many of the events of #37 and #7 against the backdrop of an army of morph-capable yeerks who are using open warfare in mass infestation efforts.  We could see a lot of Rachel’s struggle in #41 and #52 with tending to rage against everything that moves, only now with the complicating factor that that might even be a proportional response to the situation.  I love the idea of the climax of the book following #7, with the kids destroying the ground-based kandrona and Rachel trying to figure out if they did enough to make a difference.  Maybe the very last scene of the book could be that conversation with Jake about the final battle plan, only this time we’d get to see Rachel’s thought process as she makes that decision.

Jake’s Book: Would cover the final battle, and most of the story leading up to the final battle.  I love the idea of the book opening on Jake recruiting James, and having most of the emotional core of the story be about that relationship.  There could be so much delicious painful irony if Jake’s stepping into a big-brother role for the Auximorphs while simultaneously planning Tom’s murder.  From there, we could see the final battle play out mostly how it does in #51 - #54, with recruiting the taxxons and dealing with the morph-controllers’ rebellion and preparing the Auximorphs and getting human allies and fending off the andalites’ well-meaning genocide.  Things could play out more-or-less how they do in canon.  It’d be awesome if (much like in the original series) we also get a good long sequence of the book just about the aftermath of the war, with Jake quietly keeping tabs on his team as they spread out and struggle to adjust after the battle is over.

Obviously the story would have to leave out a lot of elements — David, the Ellimist, the chee, most of the Chronicles, over half the plots — but I think if you’re going to do six big stories, then sacrifices must be made.  There would also be a lot of necessary reordering of events if the books are trying to achieve a single story for each of the kids, but I think most of the major beats could be kept intact.

[fullmarvelheart]

Crossing Lines (3/?)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x fbi!mob!Reader

Word Count: 2,601

Recommended: 18+ readers 

Summary: A sudden and unsettling event rocks the underworld, and Y/N is immediately called in to prepare for what’s to come. What she isn’t prepared for is James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, also known as the new head of the Brooklyn mafia clan. When these two get shoved into a world of danger and deceit, will they ever learn to trust each other? Or will they be doomed from the start?

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, angst, swearing, implied torture, kidnapping, suggested smut, mentions of familial loss

A/N: Ok, so I’m a bit nervous for this one, but I’m just happy I was able to get it out today. Now, to start packing so I can get back to my college! All mistakes are my own. The GIF is not mine, so credit goes to the original creator! 

Series Masterlist

Two days after I had barged into my father’s home, my phone rings, and I stupidly answer without checking the caller ID first. If my father knew, he’d have my head for being careless.

“Y/L/N here.”

“You need to come in as soon as possible.” Coulson’s voice sounds serious, and I straighten up instinctually. “Fury has requested you.”

“On my way.” I tell him before hanging up. A quick message to my bodyguards later and all four of us are piling into the car. Hunter gives me a small glare as he moves into the driver seat. I smirk back.

“See, Hunter. You’re driving me. Don’t look so upset about it now.” He sends me another glare that has me chuckling, easing the prickle of nerves that rests under my skin.

During the drive to the estate, I find myself zoning out. The moment I step out of this car, the moment that a plan I’m not entirely aware of will fall into action. A feeling in my gut settles heavily and some part of me knows my hands are going to get dirty soon.

Like usual, we pull in front of the stairs leading into the estate, and my guards escort me in. Once I’m in, I’m led the familiar path towards my father’s office. Three out of four of my group stop where the other guards are posted, and I head through the door. I falter slightly, seeing both my siblings, Hill, Coulson, and my father but continue on just as quickly.

“You have a way in.” Fury starts, not wasting time, while also pushing a thin file towards the edge of his desk. I grab it and flip it open. “Your team will stay here during your assignment. Hill will drive you to where your vehicle will be, your new identity is in the glove compartment. Once you leave the premises, you won’t be able to have any contact with anyone in the Clan. I thought you’d like to see the twins again before you left.” I give him an appreciative nod, keeping myself firmly planted where I stand so I don’t run to my sister and brother.

“Who’s he?” I ask, in reference to the man in the folder.

“A known HYDRA affiliate. Your way in is capturing him and delivering him onto the Barnes territory. Oh, and they just want him alive when you get there. Better for information.” I smirk slightly. There it is.

I look over the file again, memorizing everything about this guy, before I close it back up.

“Can I say my goodbyes, now?” I ask with a slight hitch in my voice.

That’s all Wanda needs to hear before she’s sprinting over to me. I stumble slightly when she reaches me, then lock her into a tight embrace. I feel a third party join the hug and move to let Pietro in as well. It’s not long before I feel the chill of tears seeping through my shirt. The sting of fresh tears burns my nose, and I will them not to fall.

“Please, be careful.” Pietro practically begs. In order not to start sobbing, I can only nod into his chest.

I eventually push myself away with a shaky breath. “I will try my best. Promise me you two will stay safe.”

“It’s not us,” Wanda sniffs, drying underneath her eyes. “That you should be worried about.”

I give her a sad smile before it suddenly drops and I’m looking between them. “Promise me. I need you to promise me you’ll be ok.” I whimper as a single tear rolls down my face. The reality of what is being asked of me comes crashing down and I need to make sure I don’t worry about them. I need to know my little siblings will be safe from HYDRA.

“Promise.” Pietro and Wanda whisper sadly with tears streaming down their faces.

I nod while drying my face before looking directly at Maria.

“Hill.” I start, masking my vulnerability. She nods once in acknowledgement. “I assume there is a bag with my necessities for this mission.”

“Yes, and the Barnes family also has some things for you on arrival.”

“Then let’s go.”

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

A semi-long trip, an outfit change, and an equipment exchange later, and I’m on my way to some second-rate club on the outskirts of NYC. When I pull in, I’m not shocked when I find the parking lot mostly empty. After coming to a stop, I run through the mental file I have on this guy.

Target: Ian Quinn (with his brown hair and smug smile I memorized from his photo)  Occupation: Disgraced billionaire, but still has money. Is believed to be working with HYDRA for extra money as well as to help his business; has most likely been given access to classified info Location: Club Atlas, low security on premises, cameras only at the front entrance and boss’ office door Other: Seemingly a sucker for a damsel in distress

I groan to myself as I throw the car door open. My simple black heels, with one strap over my toes and the other around the ankle, click on the asphalt as I fall into the role of the meek and timid persona I am adopting for this part of my op.

I try to tug the dress down as I walk closer to the bouncer, making me seem uncomfortable. He eyes me skeptically before asking for my ID. I pull out a fake and hand it to him. With only a quick glance, he nods then motions for me to head on in. I slowly walk across the sticky floor as I make my way towards the bar. The bass of the music send strong vibrations into my ears that seem to resonate through the rest of my body. The few patrons that are here either sit at the booths lining the walls or writhe on the tiny dancefloor. However, Quinn is nowhere to be found.

I adjust my dress again once I reach the bar, then continue looking around.

“Can I help you, little girl?” The bartender asks in a condescending tone.

Yeah, I’ll take a glass of the fuck off, please. “Oh! I- uh- I wa-.”

“Is Mikey giving you a hard time?”

I turn around with wide and fearful eyes to meet two blue ones. Ian Quinn.

“I-I, no! No, I was just startled is all.” He smiles softly but with a twinkle in his eye that unnerves me. I turn back to the bartender. “I’ll just have some tonic water with a lime for now, please. I’m just waiting for someone.” I tell him softly even though I want to punch the sneer he gives me right off.

“So...” Quinn says grabbing my attention. “Who are you waiting on?”

“Oh, uh, I was supposed to meet a date here that I met online. But, uh, this isn’t how he described the place.” I chuckle shyly.

“Well, until they get here, why don’t I keep you company.” He states with a smug grin. It wasn’t a question.

I giggle, my fingers tucking on a loose strand of hair. “That’d be fine.”

“My names Ian. Ian Quinn.”

“The billionaire?” I question with a gasp of awe that I force out of my mouth. “I can’t believe it. I’m Rissa.”

We shake hands before my drink is placed in front of me. After 30 odd minutes of Quinn talking about himself and flirting, I glance at my phone and sigh.

“Ya know. I don’t think he’s coming after all.” I mutter sadly.

“I’m sorry, Rissa.” Quinn says with concern, though I’m sure it’s just an act. “You don’t deserve to be stood up like that.”

I hum thoughtfully. “Ian, I don’t usually do stuff like this but there seems to be no point in us just sitting here. Would you, I don’t know, possibly, want to come to my place? It’s, uh, it’s not far from here.”

He smiles. “I’d love that, Rissa.”

I smile back, ignoring the bile rising in my throat. We pay for our separate tabs before I’m leading the man to my car. He closes the passenger door and I turn towards him. He faces me with a flirty smile before leaning in for a kiss, only faltering when he feels a prick on his neck. Before he can understand what’s happening, he’s slumped forward in the seat.

“Thank fuck.” I breathe out, pocketing the needle, before driving off.

I’m able to find a rather vacant one-star motel and get a room for one night. Luckily, it’s on the ground floor making it easier for me to drag Quinn in without causing any raised eyebrows. I hastily change out of my dress and heels into a pair of jeans, a tank top, my leather jacket, and some combat boots. I give myself a once over before I hear a faint groan come from the bathroom.

I smirk then throw the duct tape and zip ties I had taken out once I got Quinn into the room, tossing them into my backpack. At the sound of another soft groan, I saunter my way to the bathroom.

Ian Quinn is barely regaining consciousness from his place in the bathtub. My eyes glance over his ankles, five layers of duct tape and two zip ties binding them together. I used two layers of duct tape and a zip tie to bind his wrists behind his back so he can’t try to escape. Not to mention the duct tape I put over his mouth.

“Morning, sweetie.” I chirp as his eyes begin to flutter open. “We have a lot of work in store for us. Well, for me. Bet this isn’t what you had in mind.” I smirk down at him, well Rissa does.

Quinn starts squirming while attempting to glare at me, eyes still half-closed because of the drug I gave him.

“You can’t get out of this.” I purr, sensually dragging my finger down the side of his face. “I want an in. And you, you’re how I get it. And don’t take this too personally, you were just the easiest of HYDRA’s scum. Still important though.” His brows furrow as he thinks over the information I just gave him. Good, that’s the point.

While he’s distracted, I pull out my switchblade.

“Now. They just need you alive.” I quip, flicking the knife open. “Not unharmed. And don’t worry, I won’t let you die. Not yet, at least.”

His eyes widen in fear right before I’m digging my blade into his side. The duct tape muffles his screams as the blood drips into the bathtub.

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

I take a big gulp of the coffee I had purchased through a drive through, glaring at the sunlight. I really do hate pulling all-nighters.

I cross the line of my father’s territory and take a deep breath. There’s no turning back now. As I inch across the Brooklyn Bridge, No Limits by Zayde Wølf plays through my speakers. While the lyrics only sort of apply to my situation, the beat is enough to keep me awake as I inch through traffic. Well, maybe it’s the double shot of espresso I had added to my coffee.

The occasionally soft thumping of an item, or person, shifting in my trunk is enough to assure me he hasn’t escaped. Though, I doubt he could, especially with the drugs running through his system at the moment.

The neighborhoods are bright and lively as I drive by, but I keep my guard up. I cannot get caught now, I’d receive no help if that was the case.

Following my father’s directions, I eventually pull in front of a warehouse. The second I get out, five armed members of the clan approach me.

“Who the fuck are you?” One asks, pulling the cigarette from his mouth.

“I’m here to speak with your boss. I have something that is of interest to him.” I tell them as I cautiously round my car.

“You don’t deal with the boss man. You deal with us.” Another pipes in, giving me a slow once over. I resist the urge to shudder or punch him.

“What’s goin’ on here.” Another man walks out of the warehouse. His blond hair is pulled into a half-ponytail while the rest brushes his shoulders. I note that he’s slightly taller than Steve is, if I recall, and has a slightly broader build.

“I’m here to speak with Barnes.” His men all stiffen at the mention of his name. “I have a gift for him.”

“Show me.” Blonde says. I shake my head.

“It’s for your boss, only.”

With an annoyed snort, blonde turns around with a shake of his head. “Your funeral.” I hear him mutter as he walks in, causing the men to chuckle.

A few minutes later, I lean on the side of my car with my arms crossed, tired of having to wait. Five minutes later and I get annoyed.

The doors finally open as a flood of people I don’t recognize walk out of the building. Sam and Steve follow. The group causally surrounds me as I hold my place against my car, showing I’m not intimidated. The two men I know stop closely in front of me.

“You have some nerve, I’ll tell you that.” Sam quips before movement behind him catches my attention.

“Some nerve indeed.” Barnes adds. I give him a smug smile. “I hear you have something for me.”

“Something or someone.” I state as I push off my car.

The men immediately go ridged, watching every step I take towards my trunk. Barnes follows me with his eyes. Blonde stops me before I throw the trunk open and does so himself. His eyes widen when he sees my gift. Rolling my eyes, I push past him and drag a semi-conscious Quinn out of the car. I pull him to his feet and walk him forwards before throwing him down in front of Barnes. James’ eyes rake over the blood-stained clothes, and the cuts and bruises on his face.

“Ian Quinn.” I start. “Known HYDRA affiliate who’s been able to pay off any arrest warrant issued. He’s said to have been in contact with the top brass as he’s been a critical part in their financial endeavors.”

“So why give him to me?” Barnes questions skeptically.

“I’ve heard what they did to your father and I knew if I had any chance of being able to take them down with any help, it would be with you and your clan.”

“And why would you want to be part of the Clan?” Steve pipes up.

“HYDRA killed my parents in cold blood. I want every single one of them to rot six feet under.” I tell them, maintaining the cover Fury gave me, though there’s still an element of truth.

James nods looking back at Quinn. “You do all this yourself?”

I roll my eyes but nod back. “He’s only valuable alive, that doesn’t mean unharmed.”

He hums. “What’s your name?”

“Rissa, Rissa Maximoff.”

“Thor, show Rissa to my office while I deal with him.” Barnes says, motioning towards Quinn.

Blonde, Thor, nods then roughly grabs my arm and drags me inside. Once inside, Thor sighs.

“You’re a brave thing aren’t you, fiery one?” I chuckle at the nickname.

“I guess you can say that.”

He leads me through the warehouse and past a few offices until he opens a door and ushers me inside. It shuts with a soft click, locking me inside.

Part 4

Tag List:

@the-ss-horniest-book-club

@broco8

@tcc-gizmachine

[tngrace]

Prompt "is that my shirt"

Ah I love this prompt. Thank you nonnie ❤ also I'm apparently still not over this moment in 2.02 so have another version of Carlos waiting on TK 😍

Send requests from this list. Completed prompts- links to a masterlist for this little series. Everything requested is already listed and I will add links to it as I post them.

It was nearing five in the afternoon, and TK had been on shift for the last twenty hours. The calls had been non-stop and he was exhausted. Carlos had been off for the last eight, having gotten off at five in the morning and had sent TK a few text here and there. He'd crashed as soon as he was home but had gotten up a little after lunch trying to stay up until TK was home.

TK had told him not to worry about it, to get some rest, but Carlos wanted their days off to line up as much as possible and that included sleep schedules. TK honestly found it adorable that his boyfriend would go through all that for him, and he honestly couldn't wait to be home curled up in bed with him.

Before he could get fully comfortable to try and sleep the rest of shift away, the alarms blared once more and they all raced to the truck with a groan. They were being dispatched to a multi-vehicle accident, and TK just prayed they were off shift on time. He let Carlos know about the call and that he'd text him when he could before he pocketed his phone.

Carlos had done some house work while trying to keep himself awake until TK was home. He'd had a little nap and some coffee so he'd been able to stay awake. He loved doing these little things for TK to let TK know how loved he was. Plus Carlos always loved seeing how happy it made TK when Carlos made him feel important and special.

He'd just settled in on the couch with Netflix knowing, as long as the car accident wasn't too complicated, TK would be home within the hour. He'd turned the scanner on to see if he could keep tabs on how it was going, wanting to have a hot bath ready for TK when he got there. It was sounding like a rough one, but Carlos just hoped they would be done on time knowing how exhausted TK was.

It took three hours to pull people out of trapped vehicles, put out small fires, and make sure the vehicles were cleared from the roadway. TK had lost a driver on the call and he was too exhausted and emotionally drained from the long shift to actually process it. He'd done all he could to stabilize the woman until medical could get there, but in the end it hadn't been enough.

Thankfully by the time they were back to the station, next shift was in, and they were free to go. TK headed straight to the showers more or less ignoring everyone in the hopes of getting clean and getting out of there. They were worried about him, and how he was handling things, especially Judd, knowing how TK usually took each loss personally. Judd fired off a quick text to Carlos to let him know what had happened.

TK took his time in the shower, letting the tears flow quietly over the loss. He knew deep down he'd done everything he could, the damage to the woman being too much, but he still felt like he failed. He scrubbed and scrubbed until his skin was raw, but he felt clean. He tried to process enough to shove the emotions away in a box in his mind to deal with later, but that wasn't really how TK worked and he knew it even though he still tried. He was exhausted in every sense of the word.

He got out of the shower and dried off, before reaching for clothes out of his duffle without paying attention. Judd walked by ruffling his hair and TK gave him a tired slight smile. "Go home. Rest. Talk to Carlos," Judd said in a soft voice. "Call if you need anything," Judd calls out before getting in the showers himself. TK called out a quiet promise that he would as he got dressed. He gathered up all his stuff and sent Carlos a text that he was headed home and then left.

Carlos read Judd's text and let out a soft sigh. He knew TK would take it hard, and he always hated how hard TK was on himself afterwards. But Carlos would be there to remind him it wasn't his fault and he'd done all he could. He knew TK would've showered after a rough call like that, so he forewent then bath idea and decided to just shower TK with his love.

He went upstairs and put the big fluffy blankets on the bed knowing TK likes the comfort big blankets provide after a rough day. He made sure the curtains were drawn, even over the balcony doors. He turned a lamp on low so they'd still be able to see. Then he went back down the steps to wait. He'd thought about waiting on the couch, but decided the stairs would be fine and he would be in TK's direct line of sight.

He didn't have to wait long before he heard the keys in the door. He could tell how exhausted his boyfriend was by the way he was carrying himself. TK quietly dropped his bag right inside the door, and he when he saw Carlos waiting, Carlos could see him starting to break.

He opened his arms immediately as TK climbed the two steps and all but collapsed into his arms. "You're ok," Carlos whispers as TK clings to him. TK holds on tight not saying anything. Carlos just holds him for the longest before he gently eases TK up.

"Come on cariño," he whispers wrapping his arm around TK leading him up to their room. "Put your favorite blankets on the bed and got it ready for us to sleep."

TK just nods as he rests his head on Carlos's shoulder letting Carlos take his weight. Carlos knows how big these moments are that TK let's himself be this vulnerable with him, and each time it happens, he falls more in love with him.

Once in their room, Carlos turns TK to face him so he can help him strip to get comfy for bed. He can't stop the smile creeping on his lips as he takes in his boyfriend. He knows he shouldn't be smiling like this when TK is hurting, but he can't help it.

"What?" TK asks him when he sees the goofy grin.

"Sorry," Carlos says chuckling softly as he runs a hand down his face. "Is that my shirt?" He asks TK as he finally helps him strip.

TK looks down confused at Carlos's question. He takes in the faded blue APD shirt and can't stop the smile from creeping onto his face. "Yea I guess it is," he says with a soft chuckle. "I grabbed my clothes last night in a hurry and didn't pay attention. Maybe I just like wearing your clothes," he teases.

Carlos gets him stripped down and they crawl into bed, TK koalaing around him. "I don't mind. Maybe I like how you look in them," he smiles kissing TK's forehead. TK gives him a ghost of a smile as he snuggles in closer. He knows he needs to talk to Carlos about today or it will just fester in his mind, but for right now he's comfortable, safe and exhausted and he let's himself fall fast asleep.

[parkers-gal]

cups

boomerang pt. iii

wc: 2k

warnings: very detailed anxiety attack

There’s two faucets, each with a cup under, catching the liquids. There’s one that flows consistently, one she drinks out of on the daily. The other comes out in drips, in which she sips from the cup rarely. Now, the rare cup is overflowing, so much that she can’t drink all of it. She’s drunk on it now, and she’s not sure where the end or the start is anymore. The other cup has stopped flowing all together. The once consistent flow that kept her thriving and hydrated was now barren and dry.

One would complain about how different the two beverages taste, one being bitter and sour and tart, the other sweet and honeyed and enjoyable. But not her. Maybe the whole point of having both is to keep them balanced. Maybe that’s where the fault line is, where the recurring problem always starts from. Maybe nobody is ever supposed to have too much of one beverage; perhaps it needs to be even, balanced, steady. One thing’s for sure, you’re always supposed to have both; never neither.

Y/N’s in a pickle. Out of the two of them, she wasn’t the actor. But now, pretending is her main task; something she must do everyday just to survive to the next. It starts at her friends house, the place she’d ran off to when things went crumbling down. To any outsider, the split wasn’t as drastic as others, though the pair didn’t exactly end on great terms, one would expect both to hold no grudges or remain satisfied. When they said the game of love was a battlefield, nobody ever told them it would be war.

She’s sitting on the floor in the middle of the living room. Despite the name, the room is anything but alive. It’s dead and cold and dull and unwelcoming. The welcome mat outside could even be considered click-bait, in Y/N’s opinion. But nobody had ever cared about Y/N’s opinions. Or her feelings. Or her thoughts or struggles or ideas or wishes. Because she’s the nurturer, the person other people turn to when they want to show insights of their lives. Y/N had never gotten the opportunity to do the same.

At one point, though, she thought she had found the person she could do that to. But of course, things went crashing down, the foundation crumbling and cracking until piles of rubble and concrete were left, dust wafting through the air and making her lungs burn.

Three weeks have passed, and by the middle of the fourth week, Harrison had told her about his accident with the car. She wanted to be there – as the person who sat with him in the ambulance, or the person who was driving the car – she wasn’t sure, but she knew she wanted to be there. She almost drove to the hospital; the keys were in her hand and the door was opened, but she had ultimately decided that he didn’t want her like he used to.

The heart does a lot to a human. Love is like blood, the source of living and anyone’s lifeline; you need it to survive, the heart needs it. That’s why the heart pumps it 24/7, flushes it through the body and asks the lungs for continuous support in doing so. Y/N used to be breathing heavily, panting as the love ran through her veins and pumped her heart, filling her soul and her skeleton. Now, she was lying on the floor in an empty void, bleeding out the love that once kept her alive. It’s ironic, how the thing you need is also the thing that gets you killed.

“Get up,” Aisha nudges Y/N with her foot. “get off the floor for once.”

Groaning, Y/N sat up, head rush flooding her skull as she rolled her eyes. “What?” she whined.

“Let’s go out tonight.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes,” Aisha cuts her short, standing up and reaching for Y/N’s hands to help her stand too. “You said you would; I’ve already promised the gang we’d be there.”

“Fine,” she grumbles, standing up and patting her thighs for any stray hairs or dirt.

“Go shower,” Aisha nudges her in the direction of the bathroom. “We can get ready on time for once.”

Y/N laughs with a nod, walking towards her room. Once her back is turned, the smile drops from her face and her hands cover her face as she rubs. Hopefully, makeup would cover up the luggage her eyes carry under them.

**

She’s wearing heels and an off-the-shoulder-top dress that’s shorter than anything she owns. Aisha called it “clubbing material,” when she bought it, so she knew this would suffice for the night and satisfy her friends’ requirements.

“Y/N?!” Aisha calls from the kitchen. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” she yells back. “Let me just grab my purse!”

Opening a drawer to grab her jewelry, she wears a necklace before grabbing her purse. She halts all of a sudden, practically tripping her own self as she looks at the handbag her fingers are encased around.

“Y/-!” Aisha walks through the door, two shot glasses in her hands, but she too stops and takes notice of what Y/N is doing. “Are you… okay?”

Y/N shakes her head wildly, dropping all thoughts as she gives Aisha a smile, reaching for one of the glasses as she leads the way out of the room.

**

Club hours extend on weekends. Friday’s run all through Saturdays, so the club is pretty wild when they arrive. There’s five of them, each wearing something equally sexy and stunning and powerful. Y/N wishes she could feel all of those things, but she pretends, for now. It’ll do.

“This way!” Jennie calls, grabbing Y/N’s hand as they move to a particular section of the dance floor, some of them already getting into the groove with the beat. Y/N laughs before moving her hips, joining them.

She dances for about fifteen minutes before a certain figure catches her attention. It’s not who she thinks it is, thankfully, but he is wearing a familiar hoodie, one she’s certain she had worn a copy of. The memories flood back quickly, and she stops her movements suddenly, trying to catch her breath.

“You good?” Aisha asks, a hand on the small of her back. Y/N nods, telling her something about needing a glass of water, and Aisha nods, coming with her. Hands linked, they make their way through the crowd of sweaty twenty-something-year-old’s before settling on two stools at the bar counter.

“What’ll it be this time, ladies?” Ciara, the barista, asks.

“Just a bit of h-two-oh,” Aisha says with a laugh, going on about some new store opening down the street. Ciara happily chats back, and Y/N is thankful for the free moment to distract her brain. Before she knows it, she’s sipping out of a glass cup and another figure sits in the vacant seat next to her. The girl – who’s wearing something Y/N would love to buy – is chatting with the fellow she saw earlier. Her perfume is so strong that Y/N can smell it from her spot, and the scent is so familiar that she recognizes it immediately.

Upon the realization, she stands up from the stool hastily, setting the glass on the counter before going back onto the dance floor – a different type of distraction. She doesn’t last long, though, because someone is changing the song for Karaoke Hour, and the runner up is some girl – and the song she’s chosen sends Y/N into a furry of more memories and nostalgia.

Her breaths get short, eyes unable to focus on one particular item, and she’s reaching her hands out for nothing in particular, reaching out because she’s been abandoned for so long.

“Are you alright?” Daniella asks, lightly holding her left arm, one that Y/N had accidentally swung into her stomach.

“What’s happening?” Aisha asks, coming over to the group, abandoning her spot at the bar.

“Y/N,” Daniella tries again.

There’s tears trickling down her face, mascara smudging in the most cliche way. Her breathing has picked up so much she’s practically hyperventilating now, and her heart is beating faster than a 365 GTB Ferrari. Sweat builds on her palms and her underarms, and she nearly trips while stumbling backwards, her heels sabotaging her ankles’ strength.

“Let’s take her out of here,” Aisha shouts over the music, and the four of them attempt to bring her outside of the club. The majority of Y/N’s weight is on the girls around her, and she’s internally grateful they’re not as oblivious as former friends.

They sit her down on a bench, one of them wrapping a jacket around her shoulders as Aisha talks softly to her, sending two of the girls inside to get another glass of water. Y/N gulps half the cup down on her first go, and her breathing calms down after ten minutes.

After five minutes of sitting on the bench in the calmest degree she could manage, Aisha tells the three of them to get the rest of their stuff and pay the tab while she calls for a taxi cab, and Y/N feels guilty for ruining their girls night out.

“We can talk when we get home- if you want, of course,” Aisha assures her.

When Y/N’s certain they’re alone, she rambles. “It was just- so much, the lights and t-the songs and my p-purse and the perfume and ja-jackets-”

“I know, baby, I know,” Aisha coos at her, pulling her into a hug before the rest of the girls come out, and they file into a cab, scents of alcohol lingering on them.

***

When Y/N wakes the next morning, there’s seven missed calls in her notification center. Four are from the girls (about last night), two from a colleague at work, and another from Harry. Unplugging her phone, she clicks on his number, the phone dialing.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice is raspy through the phone, and Y/N has a feeling she just woke him up.

“Hey,” she breathes into the phone. “You called?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Aisha told me about last night; ‘was just checking in.”

“Oh,” Y/N sighs. “Yeah.. I’m okay,” she whispers.

Harry hums in response, and a few beats pass before he speaks again. “Did you hear he punched me?”

“What?” Y/N laughs. “Yeah right-”

“No really. I had to go to the hospital to make sure my jaw wasn’t fractured.”

“Wow.”

“I know- what a fuckin’ twat.”

It’s Y/N’s turn to hum, and Harry just laughs, rubbing his jaw from the remaining aches.

“Are things… bad?” Y/N whispers again, afraid somebody might shame her for being curious, for being worried.

“Worse than they’ve ever been,” Harry says back quietly. “I know you were Tom’s, but everything is different over here. It’s like this piece of our lives is just gone, and everyone has to work around it now.”

Y/N sighs and looks down, phone still to her ear as she thinks about his words. “Yeah,” she whispers before wiping at her face. “I get it.”

“I don’t know if you do, though.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Do you honestly think you’re meant to be apart?”

“Harry,” Y/N says sternly with another sigh. “I just- we’ve talked about this already. I’m tired of being the one that doesn’t matter.”

“But you matter to me,” he says back. “And Harrison and Sam and Tuwaine and Paddy and-”

“But who’s the base of it all?” Harry doesn’t reply, so she asks again. “Why’re you a group?”

“Because of him,” Harry admits. “No, yeah, I know, I get it,” he sighs too. “I just.. miss my home.”

“It was home to you but hell to me.”

“I know. And I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel guilty about doing what’s best for yourself.”

“Don’t be,” Y/N rubs at her face. “It’s whatever.”

“Will I ever see you again?”

Y/N looks to the window, glancing at the rays of light and the green leaves, and she ponders the thought.

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”

[writingsbychlo]

SAF!tommy ask:

Tommy during her pregnancy?

oh my god 

A T T E N T I V E ™️

first trimester he would just sort of be in overdrive

reading a lot of parenting books, makes a really gross smoothie of super healthy things every single day, saves about 200 baby related tabs to folders on google

is extra hands-on too

super cuddly and protective

“can you wear belts when you’re pregnant?”

“you can when you’re six weeks pregnant and the baby is only the size of a grain of rice, thomas!”

also doesn’t want you to go inside a single building, even if you’re fully kitted-out

then again, neither does newt

the two team up to be the ultra-protective team

by the second trimester you’ve forced him to calm down a little

you indulge him with some things like the absolute pharmacy supply of vitamins and pills he thinks you should take every day, and you have the smoothies, but you make him put nicer things in it like honey and yoghurt too

 also, you make sure he knows he can’t stop you from doing your job until you’re off on maternity leave

he gets really excited over everything at about five months in

so many questions that make you laugh at random times

“wait, how do we know which size of clothes to buy at first? there’s like eight ‘new born’ sizes.”

“will we still have sex after we have a kid?”

“what if they want to play an instrument? i’m terrible at that!”

“i can’t do math either!”

he also buys a baby name book and goes through it with a highlighter with you.

does so much planning

fusses over you when you start feeling insecure about your growing bump

“damn, my wife is hot as fuck.”

“your tits got bigger. do you think they’ll stay like this? i like it.”

“is it weird that it kinda turns me on when you rub the stretchmark cream on?”

he helps make a birth plan

actually, he pretty much does the whole thing

derek helps him arrange it and get it all in order

so he knows to call up before and drop derek’s name to make sure there's a private suite

and to get in touch to make everything go perfectly

and what to pack in a bag, and all the unexpected things

going to meet all the doctors that derek introduces him to

if you thought he had heart eyes before it only gets 200x more intense when you get into the third trimester

every single morning he gets all soft over the way you can only button up the first few buttons of your paramedic's shirt and the rest hang open around the bump

has bought so many fucking baby items and makes a whole day out of decorating the baby room, baby-proofing the house, and building furniture with the team

it’s a part of the baby shower, they all come over and hang out and do presents, thomas uses the barbecue set, and brenda drinks mocktails with you and sits in the sun once they start painting the room and building furniture

not knowing the gender himself until he gender reveal party

he wanted to be surprised himself and so newt helped you plan it

literally sobbing when he found out he was having a little boy

sitting in the garden with a lot of beer that ENTIRE night and crying the whole time with newt as he talked about being a father

newt crying when thomas spilled that the two of you were planning to ask hi and derek to be godparents

newt crashing on your couch drunk that night and thomas coming upstairs and wanting his hair played with as he told you how much he loved you before falling asleep

once you’re off on maternity leave, he is on the countdown to his paternity leave

nervously telling you he wants to start taking his chief qualifications because vince isn’t far off retiring and he wants to be chief so he’s in a safer position for his kids

crying when you tell him that you support him no matter what

he feels like he has hormones himself, he’s just so on edge all the time because he’s so nervous and excited

a lot of sleepless nights as you approach the due date

finding him doing a lot of weird stuff, mostly in the baby room

like trying to learn how to fold blankets into swans

or measuring things in the middle of the night with the claims of ‘is this room gonna be big enough once he’s walking? once he’s a teen?”

confessing that he’s really just scared of messing up

like TERRIFIED

and you tell him you’re scared too, but you’re gonna do the best you can and the kid will love you both as long as you do your best and give them all your love

finding him about two days before your due date anxiously filling period pads with aloe gel and shoving them in the freezer at three am

calming him down when his voice gets almost too high to hear with nerves

getting snappy at one another through stress when you end up being four days after your due date

always making up with tearful kisses, though

despite all his worries, being completely calm and totally prepared when your water breaks mid-afternoon during lunch on the fifth day

[refinedbuffoonery]

Flawless (6)

masterlist.

Content Warning: swearing, violence, sex, PTSD

Not gonna lie, this is a bit of a filler chapter. But the NEXT chapter...that’s the one you’ve all been waiting for. Also, I’ve had “bad guy” by Billie Eilish stuck in my head for DAYS, so that’s the song playing during the runway show. 

*****

A week after the job at the director’s house, Riley sank into her first-class airplane seat and immediately opened her laptop, the tan pleather chair squeaking slightly as she crossed her legs beneath her. Dimming the brightness, Riley angled her laptop so no one could see it but her. She’d been profiled plenty of times in the past while writing perfectly benevolent code. Riley certainly didn’t need anyone catching her working on something more nefarious. 

If she did this right, then she’d be able to just connect her phone to whatever Louvre computer that controlled security and be free to do whatever she wanted. 

If she didn’t...she’d need to brush up on her French. 

Nikki dozed in the seat beside her. She’d been bouncing off the walls all morning in anticipation of getting to see Fashion Week in person after Riley had promised to go with her to as many fashion shows as they could sneak into. Nikki’s excitement was infectious. While the priority was to see the runway show of the designer whose Louvre afterparty they were crashing, before they boarded the flight, Riley found herself sifting through fashion blogs to determine which other shows she wanted to see. All couture, of course. 

Across the aisle, Jill had her nose buried in an incredibly thick book Riley couldn’t see the cover of, and behind her, Cage and Desi curled together like a human pretzel as they watched a movie. They were disgustingly happy, and that made Riley happy too. 

When they were somewhere over the middle of the Atlantic, Nikki awoke, grumbling, “You’re going to ruin your eyes if you stare at that screen any longer.” She was right. Riley’s vision had started to blur at the edges hours ago, and she knew she’d have a hard time focusing on things in the distance when she finally looked up. Riley saved her work and shut her laptop. 

Nikki still hadn’t budged from her awkward curled position, but her eyes were open. Riley figured now was as good of a time as any to make Nikki answer her last lingering question. “So you still haven’t told me why you and your boyfriend broke up,” she probed. “You know, the one who hacks everything else.” 

Nikki sighed, rolling her head to glare at Riley. “Do I have to tell you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Fine.” Nikki sat up. “When we met, he told me he worked for a government think tank. Really nerdy stuff, does a lot of consulting. I figured he was smart but harmless.” 

“I remember.” 

“That was a lie. He’s a government agent, all right. But not the nerd kind. The double-O-seven kind.” 

Riley nearly choked. “A spy?” she hissed. “You dated a fucking spy?” 

“Surprise.” 

“How did you find out?” 

“The same way he found out about me. I originally told him I was a freelance art appraiser”—not far from the truth, actually— “and the IT job was to help make ends meet. We both bought each others’ lies at first, but over time we both struggled to keep our stories straight. And then one day it all just...fell into place, I guess. We had a massive fight, and by the time the dust settled, I think we both knew there was no going back to how things were before we knew the truth.” 

Riley laced her fingers through Nikki’s, conveying her empathy through touch rather than words. “What agency does he work for?” 

“The Phoenix Foundation.” 

“What the fuck is that?” 

“It’s DXS. The name changed while you were gone.” At least Nikki couldn’t still say the P-word either. But DXS...DXS could move Christmas. If Nikki’s boyfriend told anyone about her real job, they were all in trouble. Big trouble. 

“Think he’s going to come after you? Come after us?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Trying to lighten the mood, Riley said, “Ignoring the part where he knows you’re a criminal, it must’ve been pretty cool to date a real-life black-ops spy. I bet he knew all kinds of tricks.” The innuendo easily rolled off Riley’s tongue. 

Nikki smacked her shoulder. “We were having a nice moment and you had to go and ruin it by being gross. What the fuck, dude?” 

Riley rolled her eyes. “Love you too.” And she did. Despite the grudge she may or may not be holding, Riley loved her. She never stopped.

*****

They landed in Paris at night, and the Five Eyes crashed the moment they made it to their swanky, overpriced hotel room. The next day, they bounced around the city attending as many runway shows as traffic allowed. Riley didn’t understand the hubbub and overdone romanticism; Paris was just like any other major city—loud and overcrowded. And snobby. So very snobby. 

On their second day in Paris, the women chose to divide and conquer. Desi, Cage, and Jill teamed up to scope out the Louvre. Riley and Nikki attended the runway show of the designer whose masterpiece they intended to steal. 

As she and Nikki found their seats along the runway, Riley made a mental note of all the exits. Their seats were in the back, against a wall. Nikki hoped for a better view, but Riley liked it better this way. Sitting by a wall, she had something solid behind her and could see everyone come and go without having to turn around. Riley had always kept meticulous tabs on her surroundings—that’s what made her so good at her job��but the fear of not being able to see what’s coming was new. 

She didn’t tell Nikki about it. 

The blonde blended right in with the highly fashionable crowd, wearing a floor-length, gray plaid coat with hot pink lining. Nikki was completely in her element here, and sometimes Riley thought her friend would’ve been better off legitimately pursuing a career in fashion rather than letting Riley drag her into the world of shadows, secrets, and cons. 

While they waited, Riley fidgeted with a button on her black blazer. Her whole outfit was the same shade of her signature color—blouse, blazer, leather leggings. But her boots were the real showstopper—thigh-high black suede with intricate gold embroidery down the entire front. Riley saw them in a window yesterday and had immediately gone inside to purchase them. The boots were outrageously expensive, but it didn’t matter. Riley Davis was already a filthy rich woman, and after this job, she’d have more money than she would ever know what to do with. 

The house music quieted, and the designer—older man, favored his left leg, voice thin and raspy like a smoker—strutted down the runway, microphone in hand, welcoming the audience and beginning the show. He rambled on, ruminating over his inspiration for this collection. Nikki hung on every word. Riley tuned him out. 

So this was the man who was renting out the Louvre. Riley couldn’t even imagine the amount of money and favors it took to secure such an ostentatious party venue. 

What she could imagine, however, was that she’d surely be subjected to yet another one of these long-winded speeches at the afterparty tonight. On the bright side, that would buy her and her team extra time, making the job that much easier. 

The show began with a sweep of the lights as the music dropped to a low, pulsing beat Riley could feel just as much as she could hear. The crowd murmured respectfully as the first model appeared wearing a shiny black gown that looked like a trash bag had been melted to her body with the excess pooling on the floor. She told Nikki as much, earning an eye roll. 

The next gown was better—sheer fabric with countless thin, metallic gold vertical stripes. The skirt had pretty lines, giving the model the illusion of curves she didn’t have. After that was a strapless canary yellow ball gown with a full, pillowy train. 

“I don’t understand why designers keep making yellow clothes,” Riley hissed. “No one looks good in yellow.” 

“That model does.” 

“No one looks good in yellow.” 

Nikki twisted in her seat and glared, which Riley ignored. “Are you going to say anything nice?” 

“You’d miss my commentary if I stopped.” Riley’s snide comment earned her an elbow to the ribs, but she caught Nikki’s smile all the same. 

The next gown was cherry red satin, with huge ruffles on one shoulder and the opposite hip. The extra fabric was a lot, but there was something elegant about the gown nonetheless. 

Leanna would look good in that one, Riley stopped herself from saying aloud. Nikki—nor anyone else, for that matter—hadn’t said another word about Leanna since Riley first asked weeks ago. Suddenly their longtime friend was taboo, and Riley didn’t want to disrupt the tentative peace she had with Nikki just to push for answers she probably wouldn’t get. 

Another ugly gown, this one feathery pink with a sort of netting over top. 

But the last one...the last one caught the eye of every single person in the audience. 

Including Riley. 

The sheer dress was covered in intricate silver beading that accentuated its long sleeves and mermaid silhouette and left little to the imagination. It was the kind of show-stopping gown one wore when they wanted to be the center of attention. 

Despite the audience’s rising hum of approval, Riley still heard Nikki murmur, “That one is all you.” And it was. Riley would wear that gown in a heartbeat if she had the opportunity—too bad most jobs required her to blend in, not stand out. 

She was too busy lusting after the gown to respond. 

From her seat, Riley could just see into the wings, and she spotted who could only be the designer’s assistant, running the show behind the scenes. Even from a distance, Riley had a feeling the young woman’s hawk-like gaze missed absolutely nothing. The designer would be easy enough to bamboozle during the heist, but this woman could very likely become a problem. 

Riley committed the assistant’s appearance to memory and set the thought aside for later.

*****

Later that afternoon, the Five Eyes reconvened in their hotel suite. They still had a couple hours until they needed to get ready for the afterparty. Since only Cage and Nikki had been there before, Desi, Cage, and Jill had spent the day scouting the Louvre. It was good for Jill to work with Desi for a change; because of her military background, Desi’s way of thinking through a job diverged greatly from everyone else’s. 

Team meetings like this were one of Riley’s favorite parts of the job—swapping intel and strategizing the best way to pull off the job. Or the most fun way, which was usually also the riskiest. But tonight, the team was in unspoken agreement that they would play it safe, both because of Jill and the importance of this long-awaited job. 

Piled onto one plush, king-sized bed, the five women sat tangled together as they tore through the box of pastries Riley purchased on the way back to the hotel. For the first time in forever, Riley was hungry. She avoided dwelling on that fact as she licked her fingers and picked up stray crumbs that fell on the off-white comforter. 

“So, what did you learn?” Nikki quizzed Jill. 

Jill pushed up her glasses with her middle finger, speaking with her mouth full. “The room the party will be in is super fancy and at the far corner of the building.” She swallowed. “First floor.” 

“Good. What else?” Riley prompted. “How do Nikki or I get to security and the building’s system control?” 

“There’s an employee door in the hallway…” Jill trailed off. “Wait. This is a test, isn’t it? You already know.” 

Riley smirked. “I do.” 

Disbelief etched Jill’s face. “How? You told me yourself that you’ve never been there!” 

“I have my ways.” Riley would tell her eventually, but for now, it was more fun to lure trade secrets over Jill’s head. She reached for another buttery pastry, selecting one topped with slivered almonds.  

But before Riley could continue her taunting, Desi spoke up. “There’s something you should know.” The mood plummeted into seriousness. 

Riley and Nikki both raised their eyebrows. Go on. 

“Nikki’s ex was at the museum.” 

“Which one?” Nikki asked cautiously. Riley could hear the dread in her tone, the same dread that churned in her own stomach. 

“You know which one.” 

Riley swore. Nikki’s ex, the spy, was at the Louvre. “Did he see you?”

Cage answered, “We have to assume he did. And we also have to assume he recognized Desi and me as Nikki’s friends.” Riley set her pastry down, no longer hungry as the heist of her dreams started to crumble before her eyes. She refused to let that happen. 

“He was with a middle-aged man who definitely had a gun tucked into his belt,” Desi said. “Based on that and his haircut, I’d say he’s probably ex-military.” 

“Mac is too.” Tucking her knees to her chest, Nikki’s voice was uncharacteristically small as she spoke. Defeat wormed its way across her features. Nikki thought they couldn’t pull off the job now, Riley realized. 

No way. She wouldn’t let one stupid ex-boyfriend get in the way of her dream job. And her grossly large payday. 

“It’ll be fine,” Riley reassured. “He knows you’re into fashion, right?” Nikki nodded. “Then he has to assume you’re there for innocent, legitimate reasons. Innocent until proven guilty, remember? All we have to do is avoid looking suspicious, which we already do anyway. He won’t have any evidence to pin it on us besides a hunch, and even if he shares that hunch, he’ll get in trouble for not disclosing information about you and your relationship sooner.” 

Jill said, “That seems overly optimistic.” 

“Which one of us is the expert?” Riley snapped. Jill flinched, and the other three watched Riley warily. “Sorry,” she grumbled. 

The tension only somewhat dissipated. 

“Anyway,” Riley redirected. “We picked up the replicas.” She gestured to Nikki’s Balenciaga bag sitting open on a nearby chair. 

“Replicas?” Riley fought the urge to sigh at Jill and her constant questions. 

“What did you think we were going to do? Just take the jewelry and run like hell?” 

Jill’s silence was a resounding yes. 

“Pickpocketing 101. What did I tell you?” 

Understanding dawned in Jill’s wide, blue eyes. “When you steal something heavy, put something else in its place.” A pause. “We’re going to replace the jewelry with fakes so no one even realizes the real set is missing.” 

It was Cage’s turn to smirk. “She’s catching on.” The blonde leaned in. “So, can we see them?” 

Nikki was off the bed in an instant, retrieving a package wrapped in plain brown paper from her purse. She let Cage have the honor of unwrapping it and revealing the masterfully crafted jewels. 

The faux-sapphire and diamond necklace and earrings were stunning. And exact replicas of the real set. The only difference was a tiny, insignificant bump Nikki’s jeweler added to the back of each piece so they could quickly tell the difference between the replicas and the real deal. 

Desi whistled. “Damn. Those are stunning.” Beside her, Cage nodded appreciatively. “You would look so hot wearing those,” Desi murmured to her girlfriend. “Wearing only those.” 

Blushing furiously, Cage shoved her girlfriend off the bed. 

Riley knew that if she let them, her friends would spend hours examining the jewels. Clearing her throat to get everyone’s attention, she asked, “Everyone clear on the plan?” 

The four other women nodded in turn, first Desi, then Nikki, then Cage, and finally Jill. 

“Good.” 

“That’s it?” Jill questioned. “No team pep talk?” The other women chuckled, but Riley just rolled her eyes. 

“That one,” Desi pointed at Riley, “is the wrong person to ask for a pep talk.” 

Riley’s jaw dropped in mock outrage. “Hey! Speak for yourself.” Desi shrugged. Directing her attention back to Jill, “You really want a pep talk?” 

Jill blinked. 

“Don’t fuck this up.”

~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask. 

@macrileyedits​ / @hellishrose​ / @incorret-macgyver-quotes​ / @mylifequotesshowallofthem​ / @thecarrieonokay

[sammystep]

No One Lives Forever- CH7

(AO3 link)

Stardust Crusader Wolf Pack AU

[From the beginning- CH1]

<Previous Chapter   Next Chapter>

It took Polnareff some time to cool off from the implications that the mysterious and frankly frightening man he met all those years ago was now behind some other shady business involving wolves, but by the time he reached the vehicles abandoned on the side of the road he was able to focus on the task at hand. Both were unlocked so it was easy to take a look inside the white van first. Opening the back door revealed the cargo area had been partitioned with metal cage sections like those in the backs of police cruisers.

Other gear was scattered around the back near the rear doors for easy access. Some more guns and ammo boxes and an overturned bin of the collar devices that they found on the bodies. Nothing really caught his eye but he took pictures on his phone for future reference. The keys were still in the ignition so he started up the vehicle and moved it off the main road to not draw unwanted attention.

It felt rude to go sniffing through your car, so after a brief look through the windows to confirm the hunters left no surprises, he opened the door and put it in neutral. With a few strong shoves he was able to rescue it from the shallow ditch it had been driven into. Your keys were also still in the ignition and luckily it started, but a few lights on the dash lit up- probably more internal damage than he first assumed from the crash. Driving slow and steady he was able to get it back to the cabin.

The slamming of the car door must have alerted the rest of the pack to his return, he saw Avdol peek through the window as he made his way to the door. Inside he was glad to see you moving about mostly unaided on your own, your wounds must be healing well thanks to Avdol’s expert care. Producing your car keys, he hands them over, “I was able to drive it back, but I don’t think it’s up for any longer distances without repairs. I thought you would want your things back though.”

You sigh as you realize you really are stuck with this pack, not that you mind them but the sudden loss of freedom is disheartening. You thank him as you take back your keys.

“Pol, did you find anything else? Any link to who sent them?” Jotaro asks as everyone stares intently at him, the rest of the pack must have already been brought up to speed on the situation.

“Just more of the same gear. I moved their van off the road so no nosey troopers get involved, at least not right now. Took some pictures of the inside in case you guys see anything I missed.” Polnareff hands over his phone to Jotaro who scrolls through the images before handing it to Avdol. Walking over to the table where the hunters’ things are still laid out Polnareff absently fiddles with the extra ammo before picking one up to examine more closely. “Hmm, that’s odd. There are no makers marks on this?”

“What do you mean?” Joseph scratches his beard as he holds one up as well.

“It’s weird that there’s no markings whatsoever. Silver bullets are always homemade but the quality of these, they look mass produced but have no manufacture marks.” Polnareff’s face is grim as he makes the connection.

“What does that mean? Is that unusual?” You ask as you try to understand the significance.

Jotaro sighs as Polnareff hands him the piece he was holding. “It means this group of hunters is experienced enough not to leave evidence linking to them. And their operation is probably much more complex and much bigger than the group we encountered here. The tech, the mass manufacture of silver ammo…”

“And the van was modified for prisoners.” Polnareff shakes his head and sighs.

“Polnareff, you said before you recognized the smell of one of the hunters.” Jotaro rolls his eyes as Joseph lets out a fake cough that sounds a lot like ‘DIO’. “Ignoring who it may or may not be for now, how do you know that scent?”

“I don’t know how else to describe it other than it smells like magic. It’s like nothing else I’ve ever smelled. There was only one person I’ve ever encountered that smelled like that.” Polnareff sits heavily in the nearest chair as the pack reconvenes at the table. “It was about five years ago now, before I met you Mr. Joestar. I was in New York City for the first time, trying to follow a lead on a case but having no luck. I heard rumors of a man who knew what had really happened to… in the case.” Polnareff gets a little choked up but controls himself and continues. “I was able to set up a meeting, but when I went to the spot, everything kind of… shifted? It felt like I was in a dream: it was hard to move, like weights on my feet. Everything looked just slightly wrong too, hazy like in a fog. I remember there was some sort of party going on, a lot of people everywhere like a medieval banquet or something. That’s where I met him. He introduced himself as Dio and I could tell he wasn’t human but couldn’t place what he actually was. He claimed he had the information I needed, but it would come at a price.”

“What do you mean by ‘investigation?” you tilt your head in confusion as you try to analyze his story so far.

“Ah, you wouldn’t know yet chérie but I’m one of the best private investigators in New York, probably the whole east coast!” Polnareff brags, jabbing his chest with his thumb.

“Focus Pol! What was his ‘price’?” Joseph groans out, exasperated with the younger man’s need to show off. “And why did you even need supernatural help? Not to inflate your ego any more than it is, but you are a good investigator.”

Polnareff looks down to the table, all sense of cheerfulness gone from his face. “The case had gone cold. It’s actually the reason I became a PI in the first place. My family, the whole town… they were murdered!” He slams his fists on the table as he shouts. “And not by just some maniac in the night! It was something inhuman! That’s the reason why I needed his help or whatever info he had on who did such a terrible act.”

You are frozen to your chair in shock with this new information. It seems to have taken the younger members of the pack by surprise too, Joseph and Avdol only nodding along in understanding. “The whole town murdered? You don’t mean…The one north of Quebec City, that was your home?” you say quietly.

Polnareff’s eyes shoot to yours, “Oui! Do you know of it?”

You swallow nervously as all the attention turns on you, “I heard of it, that was about seven or eight years ago right?” Polnareff nods and you continue, “That was about time I left my parent’s territory to try and find or start my own pack. They made me promise to not go that far north to Quebec, they were afraid whatever did that would get me too. They say the whole town was… torn apart.”

Polnareff hangs his head and you can see tears gather in his blue eyes. “Yes. It’s been years now but the pain… I wasn’t there when it happened, I was off in Quebec City partying while my family… When I got back, I was the one who found them. It wasn’t just a burglary gone bad or even ‘normal’ murder. Whatever killed them had used silver to do it. All of them, the whole town,” he chokes on his words trying to get the next ones out, “some of the bodies were eaten. Not by animals, by something almost human. I didn’t rest for days afterward. I swore I would hunt down the thing, the demon that did this to them. Unfortunately, I was not as good a tracker then as I am now, and the trail grew cold fast. So, I became a PI to try and keep looking and hone my skills.”

“That Dio guy, did he help at all? You said his help came at a price.” Jotaro directs the conversation back to the mysterious encounter.

“His price was too steep. He wanted information about other supernatural beings, to keep tabs and report to him directly.”

“Do you think he really did have the information though?” Kakyoin questions as he steeples his fingers together in front of him while he considers the information of Polnareff’s story.

Polnareff shakes his head, “It’s impossible to know now. He was so confident, about everything. I think I surprised him when I refused though. For a moment, it was like I saw his true face through the fog, he was suddenly terrifying and not at all charming. But I figured if he knew something, with all the people he had surrounded himself with someone else was bound to know as well. Whatever secret knowledge he had, it wouldn’t be secret for long. And why pay such a price for something that I could get for free later?”

“Did you ever find out his secret?” Avdol leans in as he asks, enraptured by Polnareff’s tale.

“Non, I don’t even remember leaving the place he brought me to. The next thing I remember after turning down his offer is, I suddenly found myself sitting in my car ready to head back to my motel.” He clasps his hands together and you can see his knuckles turn white from the tension. “I tried to find him again to, I don’t know… stop him? His intentions for the info on other creatures… It couldn’t have been good. And the slip of his façade I saw. The man, that creature is bad news. But he might have well been a ghost. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since.”

Polnareff turns to you, “A few years later I got hired by Mr. Joestar to keep an eye on a shady landlord working for him, and I guess the rest is history.” He shakes his head, “Who would have thought joining your pack would lead back to Dio again. Non- this is fate.”

Avdol gives Polnareff a pat on the shoulder before turning to Joseph. “Mr. Joestar, I think you should tell us what you know about Dio, or at least the person you know as Dio. I think it’s time the younger ones hear this.” Avdol says as he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.

Joseph nods and runs his hand through his hair before he begins, “Right. Ahh, well,” he pauses to gather his thoughts for a second, “I know this is going to sound crazy but I guess there is no way around it. When I was young, I lived with my granny Erina, my parents were either dead or missing and her husband Jonathan had been dead since before my father was even born. Now’s not the time to get into the details of that but Granny used to tell me all kinds of stories from when Jonathan was alive. And most importantly- the majority of them involved an evil man named DIO! My grandfather’s adopted brother!” Joseph doesn’t control his volume in his excitement and ends up shouting his last sentence.

“Being an adopted son in a werewolf pack was strange enough, but Granny could tell there was something ‘other’ about Dio as well. Then one night, his schemes and plans finally came to fruition! There was a massive fight at the house, Granny said Jonathan would not speak of it except that his father George had died saving him from Dio’s magic and in the fight the manor was set on fire and burned down. Jonathan made it his life’s mission to find and destroy Dio, not for revenge but for the safety of England and the world!” Joseph turns his attention to look directly at Jotaro, “Dio was a changeling child. His actions confirmed it that night. He was one of the last remaining Fae on earth. And apparently not of the good and benevolent kind. So, you see why it could be possible that this man may be the same one my grandpa tried to destroy more than a hundred years ago.”

“That… that’s impossible! The Fae, they all disappeared long before that to Avalon.” Kakyoin is wide eyed as he tries to process the information. “I know some humans still believe in them, but…”

“I know! I know! I thought they were just stories from my granny too!” Joseph exclaims and puts his hand to his eyes, “But one time… I don’t think I was supposed to see it, but I found an old photo album. There was a family photo of my grandfather, his father, and Dio.” He turns to Polnareff, “Pol, the man you met. Did he have blond hair, angry eyes and three moles on his left ear?”

It’s Polnareff’s turn to go pale as he slowly nods.

Jotaro growls as he tilts his hat to hide his eyes before snapping his head up to face the pack. “As impossible as this all sounds, it doesn’t change the fact that someone is hunting down wolves. I don’t give a shit if it is Dio or not, or an extinct Fae or not. We are going to put an end to this.” He looks around the table for a second and you can tell his eyes linger on yours longer than the others. “If anyone has an objection to this say it now. There will be no opportunity later.”

Joseph slams his hand to the table palm down, “I’m in! lets show this bastard who he’s messing with!”

Joseph’s enthusiasm is contagious and you and Polnareff slam your hands to the table as well, surprising the group with the fire they can see burning in your eyes. “Hell yeah! They think they can just take me? No way! I’m going to help tear this guy to pieces! I’m with you all the way!” You say as you look directly at Jotaro. You’re not sure but you think that’s a look of pride on his face as you make your declaration.

Avdol and Kakyoin keep their cool but you can see the determination in their eyes as they nod and place their hands on the table as well. Joseph is grinning like a feral maniac and you suddenly believe his stories about saving the world with how excited he looks to do it all over again. “Then it’s settled! I’ll call Caesar and let him know to gather the Zeppeli pack too.” Joseph pauses as he stands and looks at you, “Oh, and (Y/N)?” you tilt your head at him to continue. “Welcome to the Joestar pack.”

 <Previous Chapter  Next Chapter>

Author’s Note:

Sorry for the slow update! Guess who’s not good at regulating her personal time? This gal! I had to change up the process of how I’m writing this cause just trying to type on my computer had too many distractions and next thing I know I’ve been playing Stardew Valley for  3 hours.

Anyway, I have a favor to ask- I need a name for one of the dead bad guys. So leave a comment with a first name for the guy from Jersey, can be a bad ex, terrible boss, friend you want to embarrass by getting their name in a fanfic (first names only please- no doxing!)

[many-gay-magpies]

@honeyseungz @loabivey so that uh. that mini au that you had like a very small rb thread about yesterday (well over a few days ago now that im posting this). well uh. um . actually you know what im just gonna let you read it yourselves

so. heeseung, jay, and sunoo are all brothers. wether its actual brothers or just "brothers" by blood bond or whatever idk. but, regardless, they're brothers. im thinking that like, at first they aren't vampires, theyre just regular dudes yknow? (and just a forewarning, a lot of this isnt gonna be as compliant with the enhaverse theorizing we've done so far, it's just a little brain worm i wanted to play around with, throwing a little bit of enhaverse crumbs in here and there)

but anyway. they're not vampires, im thinking theyre just like... adopted/found family brothers, probably orphans or something. regardless they love each other a lot and its great. personality-wise everything is super different, but just for plot conveniences, heeseung, jay, and sunoo are the yunmeng trio (heeseung as wwx, jay as jc, and sunoo as jyl respectively), and jungwon is lwj.

the three brothers meet jungwon, probably brought together by this Big Fantasy Evil, maybe something involving the vampire queen as a character? idk. there's some big evil shit going down, and the three brothers somehow end up with jungwon and HIS big bro, who im imagining is jake (basically the lan xichen in this situation—very soft, kind, gentle; the vibes are right). both of them are vampires, not that our three orphan bois know that. they get caught up in the danger, and vampire bros jake and jungwon coms to the rescue.

now, a little bit of personality-mapping here: jay is outwardly very loud, fun, temperamental, and sarcastic, generally very much like he is irl; but inside, he's intensely loyal, protective, and loving, with a HUGE soft spot for the people closest to him. sunoo is very sweet, sensitive, and kind—the walking hug of the three brothers, who is certainly not without his bite and wont hesitate to talk back to anyone who hurts them. aggressively and without mercy. also he makes them soup for comfort and is generally best boy. heeseung is very goofy, playful, free-spirited, and bright, but insecure and sensitive underneath it all; generally a loud annoying mess of a boy. pure chaotic neutral and a gremlin if there ever was one. jungwon, on the other hand, is... not. he's nervous, quiet, cautious to a fault and intensely righteous, always standing up for what's right and refusing to waver from his chosen path. very lawful good vibes. he, naturally, is more than a little put off when jay, sunoo, and heeseung's chaotic ass come crashing into he and his brother jake's once-peaceful (ish) lives. and it doesn't help that heeseung is a... huge flirt, and apparently deadset on making jungwon his friend. fuck.

jungwon... doesn't know what to do. and it would all be so much easier if heeseung were dumb or stupid or unattractive or just a total asshole—but he isnt any of those things. he's beautiful, smart, insanely witty with a brain faster than any jungwon's ever seen—he can't help but admire him. but on top of that, he's wreckless as hell, unpredictable, and pushy, and gives jungwon heart attacks way too much for his liking. he doesn't even have a heartbeat. he's fucking dead.

it eventually comes out that jake and jungwon are vampires; the brothers are surprisingly cool with it. not the craziest thing that's happened to them.

the five boys get closer, staying together as they fight their foe (which im becoming increasingly inclined to make the werewolves), and through a series of convoluted events, jungwon learns that heeseung is not only gorgeous, smart, talented, and funny as all get-out, but also sensitive, caring, insecure, and thoughtful... and heeseung, who's only goal had been to break through the nervous and straightforward outer shell of his young dongsaeng, does just that. and jungwon, naturally, starts to fall in love.

somewhere along the line, though, things go wrong—as they were bound to do in an au loosely based off of the untamed. something happens to heeseung; he's fatally wounded after saving jay's life, and disappears, nowhere to be found. his brothers eventually assume the worse; that he's gone forever. but the queen finds him, takes care of him, nurses him back to health. turns him.

when he comes back, nothing's the same. the war is still going, and his brothers thought he was dead—but he isn't. but he's... different. jungwon and jake are quick to realize that he's been turned, how, they dont know—but they talk to him, teach him, try to help him, jungwon especially. of course he does; he's in love. heeseung, of course, is dismissive; doesn't take it seriously. ill be fine, whats so bad about this? or, perhaps, he doesn't let on just how hard he's taking it; fearing vulnerability more than he fears being a vampire.

inevitably, though, heeseung's wrecklessness leads to doom—he lets his bloodlust overtake him, relishes in it, no matter how much jungwon had warned him against it, pleaded with him to take caution. he says it's usefull—says he can help them take out enemies, help them win this war. jungwon warns him that he could end up getting more than he bargained for. heeseung doesn't listen.

heeseung helps them win the war; practically wins it for them. hes happy, bitterly, until he isnt. he's happy, until he sees his brother—sees sunoo. blood-covered, pale-skinned, drained.

no.

heeseung is broken. jay even moreso. jay yells at him; yells and yells and yells and yells. curses him out, tells him he hates him, tells him he's nothing but cruel evil—he doesn't mean it, of course, but no one knows it then, not even him. now he is only angry; so, so angry. heeseung, wrought with guilt and shame and grief, flees—hides himself somewhere secluded, does the closest thing a vampire can possibly do to death, the equivalent of a thousand-year hibernation. none can find him, he's made sure of that. in his guilt and shame and anger he stews, asleep, for hundreds, thousands of years.

after the anger passes, jay is more than anything in mourning—for heeseung as well as for sunoo. he has a realization, that being that, when, inevitably, heeseung comes back, he doesn't want him to be alone: even if he'll have jungwon and jake, it won't be the same as having his brother. so jay pleads, cries, begs for jungwon to turn him—so that they can search for heeseung together, so that when heeseung comes back, he'll have jay waiting for him, too. so, reluctantly, jungwon gives in and turns jay—after which he helps him deal with his newfound immortality and vampiric status—helping him handle his bloodlust and helping him learn how to feed. over the centuries that heeseung is gone, jay, jungwon, and jake grow even closer (j line eyyy), inseparable as they search for heeseung and even outside of that. jungwon and jay are the closest, jay growing a colossal soft spot for the boy and not hesitating to take him under his wing and protect him with all he has (initially, sort of as a replacement for protecting heeseung, but eventually jay's affection for jungwon grows into something all it's own). to be clear, no love triangle bullshit here, only sickening-sweet platonic soulmates jaywon and a jungwon that is still achingly in love with heeseung.

(okay for anyone thats actually watched cql/read mdzs, yes i KNOW lwj and jc did not get along at all and kind of hated each other but. this is my au i do what i want, and if i want to add soft jaywon into the mix then im fucking going to, goddamnit)

OKAY TIME FOR SOME WACKY SIDE-PLOT MADNESS

so. sunghoon. how does he fit into all this? how does he end up being the one to trigger heeseung's "resurrection"? how does heeseung GET resurrected in the first place? well, not to worry, you're about to find out! and i am too because i'm just figuring this out as i go along baybyyyy

sunghoon, im thinking, is a friend of jake's (lets throw some jakehoon in here too bcs why not), either from before everything went to shit and heeseung went and isolated himself, or sometime during the numerous centuries jakewon spent looking for heeseung with jay. either way, sunghoon is this boy who jake is friends with and cares about a lot, and is also maybe kind of in love with. while jaywon spend most of their time looking for heeseung, jake spends his with sunghoon—finding himself often alone, now that his little bother is going off on his own adventures.

in a situation quite similar to heeseung's, sunghoon probably gets fatally injured somehow and is near death, but jake, not wanting him to die, decides to turn him instead. niki is also involved, and it's a sort of package deal, because before meeting jakewon, heeseung, and everyone, they were their own little thing; not unlike jay, heeseung, and sunoo's brother's triad. they were both probably orphans, niki being the much younger one, and as such sunghoon took him under his wing and never looked back. when jake turned sunghoon, niki was basically like "m8 what the fuck" and demanded he be turned too, not wanting his sunghoon-hyung to live on forever while he grew old and died. jake, also having a soft spot for niki, was like "fine alright" and turned him too. so, now their little vampire coven numbered five, and all was (moderately) well.

or not.

the thing was, jake hadn't anticipated how powerful sunghoon would be—there's nothing in life that anyone's found yet that would indicate a person's level of power once turned, so jake had... pretty much no way to see this coming. but, anyway, sunghoon was... really, really powerful. like, insanely powerful. all the abilities vampires were said to have in legends, the likes of which were previously reserved for just legends, he had them; flawless teleportation, mind control, shape-shifting, the whole bit. and on top of that, he was controlled—insanely good at monitoring himself and keeping tabs on his own instincts. one of the most self-sufficient, well-mannered vampires jake had ever seen. it was... frankly insane.

the problem? the queen. this is where she comes in, because she's played a part in all the boys' transformations, albeit indirectly—when jake and jungwon first turned, it was she who turned them. she could sense sunghoon's power, and she wanted it for herself. jake and jungwon had done well at avoiding her, even forgetting about her for a while; but what she wanted, she took, and take she did. it was sunghoon she took: luring him to her in small increments and then all at once, taking control of him, turning him into a mindless puppet. sunghoon had always prided himself in control, and without it, havoc wreaked: bodies dropping left and right, people being killed seemingly at random, their only purpose being to instill fear and paranoia.

now, niki had heard tales, before, from his hyungs but also from regular townspeople to whom the legend had gotten passed down, of heeseung, and how great and terrible he was. heeseung, the townspeoples' folktales said, had been insane, unstoppable: a mad genius far too gone for redemption. niki also knew from his hyungs' fond stories that heeseung, more than evil, was kind and caring; he was loyal, and powerful in his loyalty, and niki thought that if anyone could save his sunghoon-hyung, it was heeseung.

so niki went on a journey. without telling jaywon or anyone else (and thus causing quite the panic), he spent years searching for heeseung, everywhere jaywon had thought to look and everywhere they hadn't, and twice more for good measure. and, by some stroke of luck, either due to his own sheer force of will of something else entirely, niki found him: locked away in an old castle that never quite seemed to stay put, constantly phasing in between realities. it made sense why no one had found him before then—he didn't want to be found. desperately, in fact.

but niki, too, was desperate. he enacted a ritual that was said (by jake, so of course it was to be trusted) to wake any vampire that had gone into hibernation, and, miracles continuing to work for the bitter young boy, it worked. heeseung awoke—startled to find himself staring into the face of a very teary, very angry (visibly) sixteen-year-old.

confusion passed, things and motives were explained, and heeseung (although bitter at having been woken up, and still riddled with enough guilt to last 1500 lifetimes) attempted to patiently tell niki that he had no fucking idea how to help sunghoon whatsoever. niki pretty much said "well you better fucking find a way because you're not going back to sleep now, the world's about to fucking end. also jay and jungwon-hyung have been looking for you for literal centuries, do you know how pissed theyd be if i went out looking for you, found you, then came back empty-handed? really fucking pissed is how much. also sad. did i mention sad?" and heeseung, notoriously weak and also kind of (read: very) in love, is just like "...jungwon? jay?"

so niki brings heeseung back to the others, the return journey taking a long enough time that the two become significantly close to each other, heeseung's long-forgotten big brother instincts (tm) kicking in around the younger vampire. niki has to basically drag heeseung out of the castle by his teeth, because as much as he misses his brother and jungwon, he's still so incredibly guilty, and completely convinced that he isnt worth love or life whatsoever and that jay still hates his guts. and, jungwon... he doesn't even want to think about jungwon. how he failed him. how he let him down. but, niki slowly works through the insecurities, bit by bit: assuring heeseung that, no, even though jay will definitely rip him a new one once he sees him again, he'll also cry and hug him for at least 24 hours because he misses him like hell and heeseungie hyung you have no idea.

they weather a lot together. storms, mental breakdowns, bouts of blood-starvation so severe heeseung thinks he'll lose it again: but they're there for each other. they hunt, talk, keep each other warm, and in it, form an unbreakable bond. niki had heard tales of the legendary lee heeseung, who wiped out entire armies in two seconds flat and comforted his friends when they were sad and annoyed jay to the very ends of the earth: but what he's faced with is a man with more insecurities than niki has hairs on his head—and he has a lot of hairs on his head.

by the time they make it back to the coven's home, heeseung has grown sufficiently attached to the enigma that is niki, and has almost completely but it out of his mind that he's here for his old friends, too. he's only doing this for niki: it's a fact he's comfortable with. so when they reach the front steps he just... freezes.

i have a very clear image of it in my head—jungwon, jay, and jake sense niki's presence, in some weird vampire-y way. it's been around 10, 15 years since he left at this point, so of course they rush out to greet him, ready with scoldings and lashings about how stupid he had been (after, of course, making sure he's unharmed and alright)—but it all dies on their tongues as soon as they see who's with him.

frozen. everything is frozen.

i imagine it's a lot like lulu and artzyy's post. jungwon is the first to move, stepping forward and whimpering out a broken "hyung", and all heeseung's guilt and avoidance is forgotten in favor of cradling jungwon to his chest, holding him close and whispering reassurances into the crown of his head, wonnie, im so sorry, hyung's so sorry; i didn't mean to leave you for so long, i'm here now, its okay. and of course then jay comes in, crying and screaming about how the fuck is it okay, how can it ever be okay, how could you just not mean to leave us alone for 1500 years?! how the fuck do you just expect to waltz back into our lives like nothing ever happened and pretend its all okay?!? and then he hits him, and hurts him, tries to make him feel even an inkling of the hurt he was made to feel for the past fifteen hundred years—but then punching him turns into fisting hands into the back of his shirt and sobbing into his neck and holding him so tight he wouldn't be able to breath if he had the need to and please, please don't leave, why would you leave, you asshole, why did you leave?

so yeah. things happen. reunions are had, tears are shed. some indirect heewon love confessions probably happen later on in the form of very intense devotions of life and self and all that. "walking on the single-log bridge in the dark really isnt so bad" you know the whole shbang. meanwhile jay salty in the background just like "cant you just say you love each other like normal human beings jesus fucking christ"

jayseung's relationship (or the reigniting of it) is, well, rocky. they're both conflicted—jay even more than heeseung. because, the thing is, heeseung killed sunoo. as regretful as he is, that doesn't make it any easier to forget. but he's back, and alive, and in one piece, and he isn't leaving, and jay knows it wasn't really his fault, he wasn't in control—but he killed him. he killed their brother. and it WAS his own stupid fault for losing control in the first place, for not listening to jungwon, so what the hell is jay supposed to think? he flip-flops between being intensely grateful that heeseung is back and okay and finally with them again, and then remembering what he's done, giving him the cold shoulder and not speaking to him for hours on end. and all the while, heeseung is riddled with guilt, and shame, and grief he'd suppressed for far too long; niki's stubbornness combined with jungwon's unwavering support being the only things keeping him from bolting into oblivion all over again. all in all, it's a difficult time—but they get there. eventually.

naturally, they save sunghoon. what else is there to do? they defeat the queen, break her control over their friend—and then jakehoon have their own teary reunion, not unlike heewon's, and sungki have theirs, not unlike jayseung's (although with a... considerable decrease in cursing and conflicted emotions, and a lot more immediate sobbing). they're a mess—sunghoon is traumatized, heeseung is traumatized, jay and niki are traumatized, they're all just fucking traumatized. jayseung will probably take a long time to get back to the way they once were, if it's even possible—there'll always be an empty space there, something gone, something missing, and it's one that can't be filled. jungwon barely lets heeseung out of sight or touch alike, and heeseung isn't much better off. jay's always been the more touchy one out of the three of them; but after years of missing, of longing, there's plenty of time to be made up, and heeseung is just... so, so soft, and warm, and being held by him is the loveliest thing jungwon's ever known.

AND NOW A SUNOO THING, BECAUSE THE IDEA OF ENHA LIVING HAPPILY EVER AFTER AS OT6 WITH SUNOO JUST FUCKING DEAD DOES. NOT WORK FOR ME

so like. sunoo isn't dead, or he doesn't stay dead, or not the soulless-unmoving kind of dead anyway. you know how necromancy and fierce corpses exist in donghua and shit? well they exist here too because fuck you and also i said so. i made myself sad and now im making it happy again goddamnit.

anyway. after he dies, sunoo gets found by the queen, too, and because she's all-powerful and whatnot she fucking necromances him—figures he'll be useful later. as he is, though, he's basically nothing more than a puppet; like wen ning and song lan were when they were being controlled. his soul isn't... gone exactly, just imprisoned, prevented from being able to come forward and command his body.

so. sunoo is still partially alive, and the boys (jay, jake, jungwon, sunghoon, niki, and whatnot)... don't know that. i imagine that for pretty much the entirety of the centuries that heeseung is gone, sunoo's status as a necromanced fierce corpse goes entirely unknown to them, and it's only after heeseung is brought back by niki that he starts to resurface. i imagine they realize it in a sort of tense, action-filled scenario: the boys have gone to investigate another attack, thinking it's sunghoon, but as it turns out the queen has had TWO undead corpses running around doing her dirty work instead of one. and one of them is sunoo.

heeseung and jay, of course, are stunned. they cant believe it's real; it isn't real, it can't be—and yet.

a lot of angsty plot stuff happens—i dont have the energy or enough shits to give to figure out what. the thing is, the queen only kept sunoo this long and brought him out as a tactic to lure heeseung, make him weaker; and it probably worked. in the midst of both fighting against sunghoon and fighting to SAVE sunghoon, heeseung is bent on saving sunoo as well, and there's probably a lot of very angsty talk wherein there are disagreements about who's life, really, is more important in this situation, and if heeseung is just trying to make up for what he did to sunoo. regardless, heeseung ends up saving sunoo and bringing his soul back to the surface. what he doesn't expect is for sunoo to forgive him—fully and wholeheartedly. and it feels wrong, because no, you should be angry with me, you should hate me and want to hurt me like i hurt you; but sunoo is just... happy. happy that he's back, happy that heeseung is back, happy that they're all together again. and its conflicting, to say the least. even moreso because sunoo isnt stupid—he didnt just act like heeseung was an innocent who did no wrong; he knew he had been wreckless, knew he was at fault, and he forgave him still. loved him still. that was something heeseung... hadn't been prepared for.

like i said in the last part, they save sunghoon; how, im not sure, but they save him, probably with a fair bit of sunoo's help, and they're together again. only the tiny difference here is that sunoo is with them too. sunoo is back, and the gang has yet another undead bestie to teach the ropes of being a vampire to. things are awkward, obviously, especially between the original brother's trio of heeseung, sunoo, and jay; because sunoo is his usual sweet and kind self while jay believes that he should be more angry at heeseung for killing him, heeseung agrees, and jay has some very conflicted feelings about how self-depricating his hyung is being (because like... yeah you killed sunoo and im supposed to hate you but you're not supposed to hate yourself, you idiot, what the fuck?)

(also like. if we're gonna take some more crumbs from cql canon here im gonna go ahead and say sunoo's death was at least somewhat self-sacrificial, even if it was heeseung that ended up causing it in the end)

(i kind of love how jiang cheng-y i made enhaverse jay here to be honest)

(okay this has been in my drafts WAY too long because ive been waiting for some miraculous Other Detail i need to add to pop up in my mind, but honestly i can just add anything else i think of in a reblog afterwards, this bitch just needs to see the light of day)

[fallenfurther]

A break in the clouds - Part 6

I should have posted this last week, but completely forgot/got distracted. Here’s a little fluff between Alan and his nephew. Enjoy!

Scott, Virgil, Gordon, Grandma, Jeff 

*******

After almost two weeks in space, Alan was glad to be back on Earth. There was something about space food which got boring very quickly. When he’d off-loaded the “space truckers”, as they called themselves, onto Global One, he’d managed to grab a couple of chocolate bars which had tasted like heaven. As usual, he docked up with Thunderbird Five to catch up with John before descending. Alan knew John enjoyed his short visits, and it had become a ritual after long missions.

There had been no one to meet him at the airlock today. Instead, Alan found a tired John floating in the comm sphere, tapping away on a virtual keyboard. Shadows haunted those solemn green eyes, which had frozen Alan to the spot temporarily. Alan felt no shame in wrapping himself around the floating body of his older brother, which flinched before relaxing into the embrace. That’s how Alan knew he’d missed a bad one. John was a bundle of stress beneath him, and Alan only left Five after John had promised to come down before the end of the day. EOS had gladly agreed to help force him down, with Alan threatening to tell Grandma if he broke the promise. John could be the most stubborn of them all.

Popping the top on the cola he had stolen from Gordon’s mini-fridge, Alan slurped his way to the living room. He spluttered at the sight of his father struggling to get off the floor as his nephew pushed a car along the floor behind him. Cola fizzed up into his nostrils and he coughed.

“Alan!”

The little boy ran full pelt into Alan’s legs, giving them an almighty hug before gazing up. Their blue eyes met.

“Play, Alan.”

Alan bent down and wrapped his arms around his nephew properly, lifting the boy up and being careful not to spill the last of his drink.

“Where’s Scott?”

Alan carried the boy over to his father, before letting him go and helping the old man up. His Dad may have recovered from his time in space but that didn’t mean he could keep up with an energetic toddler.

“Still asleep. It was a long one and I thought it best not to disturb him.”

“Alan, play.”

There was a tug on Alan’s hand. Downing the last of the drink, he placed the bottle on his father’s desk before turning to his nephew.

“Want a piggyback ride?”

“Yes!”

His nephew bounced around him, almost whacking his head against Alan’s. Kneeling, small arms wrapped around his neck from behind and Alan caught the boy’s shoes in his elbows. Standing up with a small jolt, to help settle the boy in a comfortable position, he started to stroll around the room in no particular direction. His nephew waved a hand in the air and yelled in Alan’s ear.

“Faster. Faster.”

“How about I take this one down to the beach?”

“Beach.”

“Thank you, Alan.”

Alan headed towards the changing room to grab the beach bag. Scott had learnt to be prepared and always had a bag of clothes, toys and long-lasting snacks ready to grab for beach trips. It took away some of the hassle and meant it was less likely for someone to forget something important. After retrieving the bag, he left through the kitchen, raiding the fridge for some real food of his own. Alan was surprised to find sandwiches, which he slipped onehandedly into a box with some carrot sticks. He had to be a little bit healthy or Grandma would have his hide, and not for the first time. Adding some extra bottles of water, he shuffled his nephew higher and headed away from the villa.

The sea breeze blew at them gently and Alan smiled, enjoying it after the recycled air of Thunderbird Three. His neck was relieved of some pressure as his nephew lent back and waved to the passing birds.

“Faster, Alan.”

Rolling his eyes, Alan upped the pace once they had reached the dirt path. It wasn’t the largest increase in speed, the uneven ground and extra weight forcing him to go carefully, but his nephew was satisfied. Giggles of joy filled the air. Alan slowed as he got to the decline down to the small beach, his lungs complaining from the sudden exercise it hadn’t been prepared for.

“Beach. Beach.”

His nephew was getting harder to carry now as he wriggled in excitement. Alan gave up the fight to keep him on his back and let the child slip to the ground. The moment he was free, he was off. Alan jogged behind him, glad his nephew was still small and easy to keep up with. Thankfully the boy stopped at the flat rock at the edge of the sand.

“Shoes!”

Alan removed the boy’s shoes, socks and trousers, before letting him run on to the sand. He watched as he removed his own shoes and socks, as the child made his way over the volcanic sand. A few strides onto the beach and Alan dumped all the stuff down and chased after his nephew, who was already at the waters edge. His nephew laughed as the waves washed over his feet before running away from the sea as if it was chasing him. He would then head back out to splash in it again. Alan stood beside him, one eye on the sea just in case an extra strong wave came in. He let his nephew go up to his knees, although he never stayed that deep for long. Scott had only ever let the boy swim in the ocean if there was more than two of them about, and only while wearing the right buoyancy aids. They all knew the waters around the beach well, but Scott would not take any chances with his son.

Alan smiled and stepped back as the boy put his hands in the water before throwing them into the air. Spray arched around the boy who filled the air with hearty chuckles. It was a pleasure to see. Before long they had made their way down the beach. His nephew ran over and embraced Alan’s legs before peering up at him. It still threw Alan, from time to time, to see the familiar eyes of his oldest brother looking up at him, rather than down.

“Snack please.”

“Shall we see what your Dad put in the bag?”

The two of them ran across the sand towards their discarded things. His nephew opened the bag and peered inside. An arm went in and pulled out some dried strawberries. Alan sat down and his nephew fell back between his legs. After opening the packet for the boy, he snatched up the sandwiches and gobbled them down, not realising how hungry he had been. Now they had paused, Alan could relax a little and let his focus wander slightly. The sounds of the beach around him were peaceful. The crashing of the waves against the rocks mingled with the wind and birds to make a soothing atmosphere. No wonder Virgil liked to come down here to unwind and sketch. He could almost forget about the world and the weight of responsibility that fell on his shoulders by being part of International Rescue. Only the gentle brushing of an arm against his leg reminded him of his current responsibility. Grabbing the carrot sticks, he offered one to his small companion. It was happily accepted. They crunched away together, before Alan pulled out the bottles of water. Finishing one himself, he made sure his charge drank a good portion of the other, before swapping it for the deflated beach ball. An excited gasp confirmed he’d made the correct call. His nephew poked the ball as Alan inflated it, and the once the tab was secure, Alan held it out. His nephew snatched it and ran away before Alan could even stand up. Laughter came from behind him making him turn around. There was Scott, his shirt slightly ruffled from where he’d slept in it.

“He was running circles around Dad when I got back.”

The deep chuckle from his brother was something Alan had missed over the years. Scott shook his head.

“Thank you, Alan. I didn’t mean to sleep for so long.”

“Dad! Play ball.”

“I think you’re wanted.”

“I believe you are right. Fancy trying to wear him out with me?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing all this time? I’m going to sit here and watch you get outrun by a toddler.”

Alan grinned at Scott as the man kicked off his shoes and ran after his son. They both knew he would be joining them in a minute. It wasn’t just the fact that Alan only got to see his nephew briefly that meant he would be getting up to play with them. It was also rare that he got to spend time with Scott like this, away from work and peril. They were all so busy that quality time together was so rare, and if they did get time off, they were often all exhausted. Alan yawned. They might always be exhausted, but at least they could have this time. Standing up, he brushed the worst of the sand off, before he jogged in the direction of the multicoloured beachball that was making its escape towards the sea.

[lovelyirony]

for the made up fic title game what about... 'dice la canción que algún te llevarás mi tristeza (entre miles de colores)' which translates to 'the song says that someday you'll take away my sadness (in between a million colours)' 🥤

Tony knows that everyone thinks that soulmates fix everything. He’s seen all the movies of hopeful young women looking at the elegant, painted-on-script on their arms, starry looks pasted on as they sing some bullshit song about waiting for their true love. 

He’s read books about a man finding the love of his life in a diner, and how much love they both have for each other. It’s hailed as a literary classic and it’s his classmate’s (Timothy’s) favorite book. 

Movies and books. Some of the best tools for hiding realities. 

Here’s another thing that Tony has seen, read into: his parents’ relationship. 

Mama has the words wrapped up her leg, calling her gorgeous and wonderful. 

It’s a lie, of course. No one thinks their words lie, but Tony sees it in the way that her stance always shifts to put pressure on her right leg, the one without the words. 

How even in the summer, she’ll wear long skirts to cover the words, how she carefully skirts around how the “love of her life” is doing in interviews. 

Howard wears long-sleeved shirts, flirts with other women and says that words don’t matter in the face of love. 

The oldest trick in the book, and they fall for it every time. 

But Howard was right about one thing: words don’t matter. 

Tony has his right across his chest, in a script that’s half-print, half-cursive: 

I swear to god, get out of my way or so help me god I’ll kill you. 

Really nice words. Wow. Tony feels so infinitely loved and cherished. 

His mother flinches when she sees his words, flinches at how cruel his soulmate must be. 

Oh, he looks like his father alright...but he’s just like his mother. 

Maria may not have the same words, never in the same tone, but her life turned out as if it was that. 

Wives were an inconvenience to many businessmen, and she was no different. She had known that a week after their honeymoon, Howard’s eyes curious and roaming. 

The kind of curious that she had fallen for, and then quickly realized that curiosity was a dangerous thing for him. Was a dangerous thing for her too. 

But she played the role of adoring wife, and sometimes they were together alone and it wasn’t-it wasn’t too bad. He would smile and she would remember the good times with fondness, and then she would bitterly remember that her soulmate thought she wasn’t enough. 

Tony sees her thoughts. Mama has never been particularly good at hiding her feelings from her son. 

After all, he learned all her tells. Has quite a few of them himself. 

-

But soulmates don’t matter, not to him, and not when he has college to go to. Finally escaping from Howard’s thumb, finally on his own. He got an apartment all to himself, he’s going to learn how to cook and not burn shit, and things will be great. 

No time for thinking about soulmates when you’re busy thinking about if you really need to get more than three pans, and maybe you do? Not sure. 

His neighbors are quiet. They don’t really interact much. They saw him move in, blinked, and Tony waved. Nothing else to say. 

He still hasn’t met the guy who lives on his left. Tony’s heard crashes and brief cursing streaks, and maybe one glass that got dropped, but that’s it. All he knows is chaotic sounds and maybe that his name starts with a “J.” 

- 

It’s just the beginning of October when Tony is juggling his groceries with his hands (refusing to make more than one trip) when someone comes pounding into the hallway, and Tony can’t see over the chip bag he has. 

I swear to god, get out of my way, or so help me god I’ll kill you, comes the phrase. 

Tony blinks. 

“Not if I kill you first, you son of a bitch.” 

The guy gasps. 

“Wait, so this isn’t a serious situation where my soulmate is shitty?” 

“You said something shitty first!” 

The guy looks back, and there is a rather murderous looking frat boy out for blood. 

Tony takes one look at the situation, decides that he’s not going to make this guy fend for himself against a rage-filled boy in dock-shoes and too much hair gel, and pulls him into his apartment. 

The boy goes flying onto the couch, Tony spills a bag of apples, and the frat bro is yelling at the door and pounding on it. 

“What did you even do?” 

“I kind of maybe took his bed and threw it out a window because he was being shitty at a party I went to.” 

“On a scale of one to seven, how shitty?” 

“One to seven? Who are you, who the fuck uses that scale?” 

“Me! I use it! Now rate it.” 

“Um, like a six?” 

“Hm, that is pretty bad.” 

There’s a thump at the door. 

Oh, the frat boy is trying to break his door down. 

Tony goes over. 

“You’re opening the door?” 

“Just...have faith in me.” 

“Not to be like that, dude, but I just met you like two minutes ago and even though we’re soulmates that doesn’t mean I just blindly put everything I have into you.” 

Tony grins. That sounded...perfect. 

“Oh believe me sugar, same thing goes for you. But I have knowledge on my side.” 

The door swings open, and in charges the frat boy, seriously not thinking that the door would open. He runs into the couch, flips himself over, and he’s on the ground. 

Tony leans over him. 

“I have a security deposit on this place that I’d rather keep, you know that? I also just bought ice cream, and it’s going to become soup if you keep bothering us. Now go or I’m going to call security.” 

“And what the fuck are they gonna do?” The frat boy spits. He’s trying to get up, but cannot. What a shame. 

Tony leans in closer. 

“I want you to really look at my face. I’m sure you saw it on the cover of Time as part of the article ‘America’s Most Influential Family’. There’s a lot I could do.” 

His eyes widen, and he scrambles out, near-about running into the wall. 

His soulmate breathes out. 

“Oh man, thank you.” 

“No problem. Always using my status to make things go away, it’s fun.” 

“So like...you said you were America’s most influential what, son?” 

“In a sense. Probably not. But sometimes people know me.” 

“Am I supposed to know you?” 

“Only if you really wanna work at Stark Industries and need a good word put in.” 

“Oh, I’m going to the military. Air Force.” 

“They got lucky with a guy as nice as you. I’m sure they’ll be proud of all the frat boys you run from.” 

“I’m Jim,” he says, holding out his hand for a shake. 

“Not calling you that,” Tony says, shaking his hand. “That is too close to an old man, and you look far from an old man.” 

"That supposed to be a compliment?” 

“Well, I should hope so. I don’t flirt with old men, I flirt with attractive people.” 

“You know, you still haven’t told me your name.” 

“Give me a minute.” 

Tony puts his ice cream in the freezer, coming back. 

“My name is Tony. What’s your last name?” 

“Rhodes, are you gonna use it for weird reasons?” 

“Nickname reasons. I’m thinking Rocky Rhodes.” 

“I’ll kill you.” 

“Not if you want to eat at the best restaurant you’ve ever been to.” 

“If you call me Rocky Rhodes, no promises.” 

“Hmph, fine. What about...Rhodey?” 

“I can always change it later.” 

Tony smirks. 

“Hm, maybe I’ll let you. But I think it’s a good nickname.” 

They both are silent for a moment. 

“You have any more ice cream?” Rhodey asks. “I’d, um, I’d like to get to know you. And I’ll pay for ice cream later.” 

Tony should’ve said no. He’s seen all the failure with his parents, he’s heard all the horror stories, read the words on his skin enough times in the mirror to know that everything could mean nothing and that nothing could mean everything. 

But he smiles. 

“I’ll keep a running tab.” 

- 

It doesn’t end up like Howard and Maria, no matter how many times Tony thinks it will, wonders if he acts like it, if it will all descend into madness and he’ll be right. 

Rhodey is patient and he calls Tony out on his bullshit. They both smile at each other over cups of coffee, evening argument forgotten. 

When Rhodey has to go overseas, he always gets ragged on by his peers because he buys the cheesiest souvenirs. He never tells them who it’s for, and it’s not until Tony adds the absolutely terrible rendition of the Statue of Liberty onto his personal key-chain for his car that they connect the dots and stare at him, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. 

Tony makes him the most decadent of meals when he’s back, giving neck massages and draping blankets that are so soft they don’t feel real over them at night. 

They come together and it’s like the ways that the actors and actresses smile giddily up at their counterpart, how the authors describe two coming together. Except it’s better. 

Because Rhodey leaves the coffee filter in the machine and forgets to take it out, and Tony nearly always remembers to take it out before it’s a day later and the kitchen smells like old coffee. 

It’s the way that Tony is only a control-freak about the thermostat, and keeps it at seventy-five always. 

“You’re such an old man.” 

“You’re just a weird guy who likes it to be sixty-seven! Who does that?” 

Rhodey grins, kissing his man on the forehead. 

“Me. But I’ll keep it seventy-five. For now.” 

Tony settles back into the couch, pushing his legs over Rhodey’s. He smiles up at him, and it’s...it’s the best feeling Rhodey could hope for.