#I just miss the bald man what the hell else am I supposed to be doing rn | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

s1k0zu · 8 months ago

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Hey everyone,

While I was a bit (okay a lot) late to board the Austin train, once I did, I fell HARD. Before I saw him in Dune II, I knew about him, but never thought to take a second look.

Then I saw Dune and I still can't get Austin's performance out of my head. He was amazing! 😍

I've devoured everything I can find with him since then, and I've been reading a lot of fan fiction lately, and a scene has been playing on repeat in my mind, so I decided to write it down.

I love all the Feyd fics but I find myself wanting more of Austin and less of Feyd (he's just a bit too intense and I kinda miss the hair). So I came up with the idea below.

Let me know if you liked it and if you want me to try writing about something else. 🫣

Fair warning ⚠️ I've never written any fiction before, so this will probably be a mess...and it's maybe a bit too long.

🔞 It's pure smut, so minors stay away!

Under his skin

You and Austin have been together since before his Elvis movie.

You'd met when you were teenagers and became fast friends, but until you had to spend two weeks locked together in his apartment in Australia, because of the pandemic, that was all you were - friends.

You'd visited him for the weekend and then the lockdown forced you to stay.

The tension between the two of you had started escalating gradually, until one night he couldn't resist kissing you any longer. All it took was that one kiss and you were his forever.

You started getting jobs in the crew of all of his projects so you could stay together, which is why you're now in Budapest on the set of Dune II.

It's early morning and it's already as hot as hell. Add to that the giant sound box you've been setting up, so Austin can film his fight scenes in it later, and you're close to fainting.

You haven't seen Austin in two months, because he was busy training in L.A. and you were on location in Jordan with the rest of the cast.

You flew in with the night flight, dropped your bags at his place and went straight to set. He was already there, getting into costume, and you didn't have the time to see him.

Once you're done setting up and finally have some free time you head to his trailer to surprise him and wish him luck.

You open the door and cool air hits your face. Then you see him and you're sure the chill running down your body isn't from the AC.

He's gloriously naked, a black loincloth is all that covers his body. They've painted his torso with black lines and he's got his bald cap already in place. You've seen him in full costume before, but only in photos. This hits differently.

There's something feral and imposing about him and it's doing things to you. Gone is the sweet, gentle Austin you know and in his place is a man who exudes power and dominance.

His body is pure perfection and you know how hard he worked to get here.

"Hey, Earth to y/n. Are you ok?" Austin's voice comes through the fog.

"Yeah", you sigh, "It's just..."

"What?", he asks, a sly smirk forming on his lips.

"Let's just say if you weren't about to shoot, I'd be ruining your makeup right now", you say, raking your gaze over his gorgeous naked body.

"Fuck", he mutters and steps toward you, biting his lower lip, his eyes darkening with want.

"Ah, ah", you stop him, placing a hand on his chest, "makeup."

"Damn you woman! How am I supposed to focus now?", he asks brushing a stray hair behind your ear.

"Hey, I'm not the one wearing next to nothing here," you tell him, "and you're not the only one having a hard time focusing."

You brush your lips against his and his hands instantly grip your face as he deepens the kiss. All the frustration of not being able to touch each other for the past two months melts as your tongues dance frantically, fighting for dominance.

"I'll make you a deal," you say, panting, "you go slay them with your talent and we can come back here during the lunch break, to finish this."

"Deal", he says huskily in your ear, melting you with his beautiful voice.

A crew member comes in to call him to set and breaks the tension before you two can go any further.

You watch him perform, always in awe of his ability to switch between himself and the character in seconds. You busy yourself with work and bringing him water bottles and towels between takes, and just like that the hours go by and it's time for lunch.

"I can't wait to take this thing off my head. I'm sweating like a pig," Austin says, taking a towel from your hands. He's been doing fighting scenes for the past hour and he's in full combat get up.

"I'll stick around to help with the set. Text me when you're done and we can take a shower," you say, walking your fingers playfully up his chest. You lean up to give him a quick kiss but he grabs your waist to keep you there, turning it into a steamy makeout session.

"I've missed you so much," Austin breathes out, his forehead touching yours.

"I've missed you too," you say, tilting his head lower to kiss his nose.

You disengage and he heads to his trailer so the makeup team can remove his bold cap.

A while later you get a text from Austin:

R u coming? We had a deal remember?

You mutter an excuse and head towards his trailer, willing yourself not to run.

When you enter, you see him running a hand through his wet hair, the bald cap gone. He still hasn't removed his costume.

"Want some help with that my lord", you ask, starting to unzip the back of his wetsuit.

When he hears you call him that Austin feels a shiver run down his body. He turns and wraps his arms around you.

"Say that again," he growls.

His eyes are dark with desire and you swear you can see Feyd still lurking in the background, ready to pounce.

"You should play the bad guy more often. It's a good look on you...my lord."

"Yeah? Wanna show me just how much you like it?"

You grip his neck, fingers tangled in his hair, and kiss him long and hard, your tongues fighting for dominance. You bite his lip when he pulls away and the groan that escapes from his throat sets your whole body on fire.

He returns the favour by placing kisses on your jaw and down your neck. When he reaches your collarbone he gives it a bite in just the right spot, making heat pool between your legs.

You lean into him, feeling his erection against you and bite his earlobe, whispering into his ear: "I want you inside me."

Austin's hands tighten on your ass and he gives you a smouldering look. His blue eyes are dark with desire as he dives in to kiss you again.

You start undressing each other frantically, hands running all over, tongues locked in a dizzying dance. The room fills with the sounds of heavy breathing, your moans, Austin's groans and wet kisses.

He grabs you by the hand and pulls you into the shower.

You're both panting while he turns around to fidget with the water tap. You admire his naked body while he adjusts the temperature. He's a work of art - all lean muscle chiselled to perfection.

Your eyes travel down his chest to the trail of hair under his belly button and between his thighs and the sizeable erection he's got. His penis is perfect: a round red tip, its length marbled by veins. You can't wait to taste it and feel it inside you.

You can't believe he's yours.

"My eyes are up here, gorgeous", Austin's amused voice brings you out of your dazed wet dream.

"And what a sight they are," you smile up at him.

After seeing you standing gloriously naked before him, raking your lust-filled stare over his body, Austin can't hold himself back any longer.

His hands come up to grab your face and he bends down to devour you. As the kiss deepens, Austin's hands travel down your body, lingering on your breasts. He pinches one of your nipples and you moan into his mouth.

He breaks the kiss to look at you.

Before you can answer he bends down and licks your neck, slowly descending to your left nipple.

"Fuck you're gorgeous. I can't wait to be inside you."

You start kissing his neck, his chest, his abs, your hands trailing down to his hips. His skin tastes salty from the sweat. You kneel in front of him and lick his length slowly, feeling the veins with your tongue. He lets out a groan and braces himself against the tiled wall.

You place tiny nibbles on the head, squeezing his balls, teasing him. He shudders in ecstasy as you swallow as much of his length as you can and start moving your head up and down slowly.

"Fuck, y/n, you have to stop or I'll come...," Austin pants on top of you. You speed up your pace, locking eyes with him.

Seeing you kneeling before him, your mouth on him, looking at him like that drives him over the edge. Austin comes with a groan and you feel his seed spill into your throat. You take him out of your mouth and give the head a little kiss.

"You taste so fucking good every time," you say standing up.

Austin grabs your cheeks and gives you a rough kiss.

"You have no idea how hot you look on your knees, do you?"

When one of his hands sneaks between your legs and he rubs his fingers on your clit you feel a jolt run over your whole body and you can't stop the moan coming out of your mouth.

Austin hears you moan, hands digging into his back and throws caution away - he bites down hard on your nipple, sliding his fingers into you.

"Fuck Austin", is all you can say, your mind going blank with pleasure. You don't know what's gotten into him, but you love this new, dangerous and dominant side he's showing you.

Austin places wet kisses and nibbles all over your breasts and stomach, pumping his fingers into you. You writhe in his arms, hands tugging his hair.

When his mouth descends on your clit you moan loudly. He bites it and then licks the sore spot, curling his fingers inside you. This sends jolts of electricity all over your body and you feel yourself coming, nails digging into his hair.

"Tell me what you want me to do to you," he says, voice hoarse from lust. You can feel his hard length pressing against your entrance.

Austin groans in pleasure when he hears you moan his name, the pain from your nails digging into his scalp sending bolts of pleasure straight to his groin.

He gets up, grabs your hips and lifts you, your back against the tiled wall.

You look at his soft, puffy lips and can't help kissing him again. Austin groans and slips his tongue into your mouth, making you dizzy.

When he finally breaks the kiss to look at you, you see the passion burning in his eyes, but there's something else there too - something feral. You realise he hasn't shaken Feyd off completely.

That sparks something in you, emboldens you.

"Have your way with me, my lord na-Baron. I'm all yours", you say, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling on it, your hips bucking into him.

Hearing you say that, something in Austin snaps. He can't think anymore, all he knows is that he wants to be inside you, now.

With a quiet growl he bends down to crash his lips into yours, sliding into you in one swift move.

You can't help the cry that comes out of your mouth when he slams into you. You were already wet, but he's big.

The sharp pain quickly turns into intense pleasure as he starts thrusting into you with abandon. You can feel every vein on his hard length as he's stretching you and filling you in the best way.

You've been together for years and every time he enters you feels like the first time. It's like your bodies are pieces of the same puzzle. The feel of him inside you is divine.

Austin doesn't wait for you to adjust to his size, he couldn't even if he wanted to. He's possessed by the desire to be inside you, to own you. He picks up his pace, slamming into you, his teeth leaving red marks all over your neck and shoulders. His left hand is moulded to your thigh, his right squeezing your breast.

You've never seen him like this, so forceful and primal, and you realise you love it. As the pain shoots through the pleasure you find yourself coming, trying not to scream. You mould your lips to Austin's to stifle your moans and that just spurs him on. He continues to slam into you, balls-deep, throughout your climax.

After a while, Austin comes to his senses and realises he's too rough, he's hurting you. Just as he slows down his pace, releasing you from his grip, he hears you say:

"No, don't hold back. I want you to lose control. Ravage me."

He looks into your eyes, making sure he didn't just imagine that, and sees only carnal desire and love there. He can't believe you're his.

"Fuck, I love you," he whispers.

You smile and bite his neck hard. The little control he'd managed to take back shatters. Austin slips out of you so he can turn you around, your back towards him, and slams back into you.

One of his hands travels to your neck and squeezes, the other goes to your nipple.

This angle helps him sink even deeper inside you. The sensation is almost too much and you feel the waves of another orgasm coming. Sex with Austin is always great but this is different. He's lost all control and given in to his desire, and you fucking love it.

Austin feels your walls clenching around him and he knows you're close. The hand around your throat tightens as he moves his other hand from your breast to your clit, running his fingers in agonisingly slow circles, and right before you come he inserts two fingers in.

The feeling of his fingers and his hard length inside you is too much and you trip over the edge, your whole body shaking. You claw at his neck and bury your fingers into his hair as he swallows your moans with a kiss when you both come.

You've never seen this side of him before. He's always so protective of you, so gentle. You realise he's been holding himself back, afraid to lose control and hurt you.

He looks at you apprehensively and you smile at him, tugging him close so you can wrap your hands around his neck and give him a slow, tender kiss.

For a while the only sounds in the shower are the running water and your heavy breathing as you're both coming down from your highs.

Eventually, Austin lets you go and eases out of you with a groan. Your legs are shaking as you lean onto the tile wall while he turns around to adjust the showerhead.

He melts into you, relieved you're okay.

You disengage and proceed with your shower, washing each other's hair and bodies, placing soft kisses here and there.

When you're done, Austin stops the water. He swaddles you in a huge fluffy towel, picks you up and carries you to the bed.

He lies next to you on his side, head propped up, facing you, tiny droplets of water running down his face and torso.

"I'm sorry", he says quietly, giving you a sad puppy look and caressing your face.

"For what? Giving me multiple orgasms?"

"No..." he laughs and then falls silent.

"I hurt you. I don't know what came over me."

"Not what, who. You've still got some of Feyd lurking in the background," you say a soft smile playing on your lips.

"That's not an excuse y/n. I should've stopped...I should've..." he trails off, looking remorseful.

"I don't know if you noticed Butler but I liked it. A lot", you lift his head so he can look at you.

"I'm not made of china you know. Promise me you'll stop holding back on me. This was fucking amazing."

"Yeah it was, wasn't it," he says, finally relaxing, "Okay, but on one condition: you promise to tell me if I cross the line."

"Deal," you say and mould your lips over his.

#austin butler #fiction #feyd x you #austin x reader #smut #austin butler smut #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x you #first time writer #fanfic

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potrix-the-queerschlaeger · 3 years ago

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joy in my heart - chapter 1

Or; What if Johnny had been forced to step up? [On AO3.]

February 5th, 2002

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Johnny glances away from the awkwardly shifting nurse, over to the empty hospital bed. The sheets are rumpled, one of the tabloids Shannon loves to hate lying open on the pillow. Her favorite mug, the tag of the tea she’s started drinking against the morning sickness hanging over the rim, is sitting on the bedside table. “To the bathroom? The cafeteria?”

“Mr Lawrence,” Shannon’s doctor speaks up, and the pity in his voice that he doesn’t quite manage to hide makes something heavy settle in Johnny’s stomach, “your girlfriend left the hospital earlier this morning—”

Johnny’s shaking his head. “No, she—she gave birth a day ago? She—”

“Ms Keene discharged herself, against medical advice, about an hour ago.”

Before Johnny can even begin to wrap his head around any of that, there’s a soft knock on the door. The nurse goes to open it, gesturing for the woman on the other side to come in. She’s got a clipboard under her arm, and a no-nonsense expression on her face.

“Ah, right on time,” the doctor greets somberly. Then, addressing Johnny again, he says, “Mr Lawrence, allow me to introduce you to Mrs Porter.”

“Mr Lawrence,” Mrs Porter says, with a curt nod. “Francis Porter, Child Protective Services. Why don’t we take a seat?”

In his crib, Robby starts crying.

(Watch out for the break!)

February 14th, 2002

They won’t let him take Robby home.

Johnny’s sitting on the old, dirty carpet floor in their—his, now, he supposes, with Shannon fucked off to who knows where—shitty little one-bedroom apartment, his back against the couch, and a mostly empty bottle of the cheapest whisky the gas station had to offer on the coffee table in front of him.

The foster family they’ve lined up has experience with babies like Robby, they’d said.

It’s too early to tell if there is going to be lasting damage, they’d said.

We can refer you to people who know how to help, they’d said.

No one is trying to take your son away from you, they keep saying.

Yeah, right.

Johnny reaches for the bottle again.

“Happy fuckin’ Valentine’s Day, Shan.”

April 21st, 2002

Robby is asleep. He’s asleep in some strange woman’s arms, tiny chest rising and falling steadily, looking so damn peaceful—

Johnny turns around and walks away, ignoring Mrs Porter calling after him.

June 13th, 2002

“Please, Mr Lawrence,” the guy who stole Robby, who’’s telling him he can’t see his own fucking kid says, blocking Johnny’s view into the house, “you can’t be here, not unsupervised. You know you can’t.”

Johnny takes a step forward, swaying on unsteady feet. “I just—I just wan’ to—only for a minute. One minute, okay? ‘S all I’m askin’, okay?”

In the distance, Johnny can hear sirens.

He blacks out before the cops arrive.

July 8th, 2002

“Fetal alcohol spectrum disorders (FASDs) are a group of conditions that can occur in a person whose mother drank alcohol during pregnancy. Symptoms can include an abnormal appearance, short height, low body weight, small head size, poor coordination, behavioural problems, learning difficulties and problems with hearing or sight. Those affected are more likely to have trouble in school, legal problems, participate in high-risk activities and have problems with alcohol or other drugs. The most severe form of the condition—”

Johnny doesn’t bother putting the book back before he stalks out of the library.

July 9th, 2002

“My name’s Johnny. I’m—I’m an alcoholic? That’s what you’re supposed to start with, right? My kid, uh, Robby? He’s the reason I’m here, I guess? He’s not staying with me right now. For obvious reasons. His mom’s not in the picture. I—look, I don’t really know what the hell you want me to say? I just—I just want to see my kid, man.”

August 4th, 2002

Robby is six months old. He looks at Johnny with big, curious, familiar blue eyes, thumb jammed into his mouth. He’s drooling all over his sleeve, wispy blond hair sticking up wildly from the nap he’s just woken up from. He’s still got pillow creases on his chubby little cheek.

“He’s been doing really well lately,” Helen tells Johnny, with a soft little smile. She bounces Robby, smoothing back his hair. “Isn’t that right, honey? Are you ready to say hi to your daddy?”

Johnny’s heart is in his throat.

His hands fumble, for a moment, when Helen passes Robby over, before he manages to settle on under Robby’s butt, and the other on his back. Slowly, carefully, Johnny lifts him out of Helen’s hold, pulling him close against his chest.

Robby makes a cooing baby noise, still staring at Johnny, and curls his free hand into the collar of Johnny’s shirt.

Johnny is holding his son.

For the very first time.

He is never letting go again.

Ever.

October 25th, 2002

“—crying for, like, forty minutes now? That can’t be normal? Right? I’m—what the hell am I doing wrong, he won’t stop—”

“Johnny.” Helen, in Johnny’s less than expert opinion, sounds way too calm, considering the situation at hand. “We knew this was going to be an adjustment for him. First overnight visit with you, in an unfamiliar apartment, a complete deviation from his usual routine. He’s probably just a little confused.”

Confused because he’s staying with his deadbeat, piece of shit father.

Right.

“He’ll be fine, Johnny. You’re doing great,” Helen reassures him, as if reading his mind. Johnny squints suspiciously. “You’ve bathed him, fed him, changed him—”

Whatever she says after that, Johnny doesn’t hear, since Robby decides to add flailing to his sobbing, and yanks the phone right out of Johnny’s grasp.

“—some calming music,” Frank is suggesting, when Johnny manages to jam the receiver back between his ear and shoulder. “Helen is partial to ‘Stuck On You’, but anything slow will do, in a pinch. Put on some music, walk him around, bounce him. You’ll be fine.”

Music. Yes. Okay.

That’s definitely doable.

Only.

“Wait, Lionel Richie? What the hell have you been teaching my kid, oh my god, and they let you be foster parents? Unbelievable—”

“Johnny.” Helen’s clearly trying to hold back laughter, and not doing a very good job of it. And that, somehow, is enough to finally make Johnny listen. Really listen. She wouldn’t laugh at him if Robby was in actual danger. “You will be fine. Both of you. All right?”

Johnny doesn’t own anything Richie, obviously, but one of the boxes he hasn’t unpacked yet is stuffed full of all his mom’s old tapes. He rummages through it one-handed, while Robby attempts to make him go bald prematurely, until his fingers land on an old, well-loved copy of ‘Rumours’.

“Definitely beats Richie,” Johnny murmurs, and pops the tape into his cassette player.

Robby is probably just startled, when it starts in the middle of a not exactly slow song, but he does finally, blessedly, stop crying. He still looks like he’s thinking about it, though, so Johnny hugs him a little tighter, and starts singing along.

All I want is to see you smile. If it takes just a little while. I know you don't believe that it's true. I never meant any harm to you.

February 4th, 2003

They’re celebrating Robby’s first birthday at Helen and Frank’s house.

There isn’t a huge crowd present, but Johnny had still been surprised at how many familiar faces were there to greet him.

“Like we’d miss this,” Tommy had scoffed, elbowing him in the ribs, while Jimmy’d nodded along. “Nowhere else we’d rather be, man.”

Bobby had just pulled him into an almost bone-crushing hug, and whispered quietly, “I am so proud of you, John.”

Because making someone cry at their kid’s birthday party was, apparently, a thing priests did.

Johnny is sipping his apple juice, squished onto the couch between Bobby and Tommy, when there’s a dull thud from the other side of the room. Helen is standing right by Robby, who’s looking mostly confused as to why he’s on the floor instead of toddling towards the gift table, frowning down at the carpet as if it’s personally offended him.

Then, his lower lip begins to wobble.

Helen is right there. Frank not five feet away.

Robby looks up at her, at Frank, then over at Johnny. Lifting up his arms, eyes wide and wet, he demands, “Dada?”

Johnny’s never moved faster in his life. “I’m right here, buddy. I’ve got you.”

#cobra kai #johnny lawrence #robby keene #fatherhood #lawrusso #eventually #father son relationship #father son #parenthood #myfics

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camthesolemnone · 3 years ago

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*crashes through door*

HI I HAVE ANOTHER ONE!!

Ok. Soulmate AU!! it's the one with the red string connecting you to your soul mate by your pinkie. Make up some rules for it if you need to!! I like to do the thing where the string gets tighter/looser as they move closer and farther from their s/o.

Ok, goodnight, I love you, bye!

*mwah*

*passes out just outside door*

Whoops accidentally made Zhanna older than Heavy in this one. Well I mean, maybe she is, but I've always written Mikhail as the oldest child in his family. Anyway, enjoy!

Wide eyes full of tears and flushed cheeks was what Mama came across upon turning to face who was tugging at her shawl. Little Zhanna, no more than five, was highly concerned about her baby brother.

"Mama! Misha’s finger is blue!"

Fearing that her son had developed gangrene from the cold brought on by the heavy storm outside, the distressed mother turned away from her soup pot and made haste towards the living room.

"Zhanna! Go get your father!" She instructed, entering the space, and the small girl nodded rapidly as she dashed off to where Papa was doing laundry.

Mama approached her child. The infant was situated in the center of the carpet, tiny hands shaking and eyes also leaking. Mikhail couldn't form words yet. He could only helplessly wail as he became light-headed; he had lost all feeling in his pinkie finger.

Mama kneeled down near him, and Zhanna and Papa appeared a second later.

"What is going on! Is moy syn alright?" The older man cried.

Mama took the boy’s hands in her own and examined them closely. As Zhanna had announced, his left pinkie was a light shade a blue. At the base of Mikhail’s finger was a small red string, fastened so tightly that it constricted the blood flow. The Russian mother breathed a sigh of relief.

“There is nothing to fear, he has simply acquired his soulstring,” Mama explained, standing up and giving her family a reassuring nod.

Papa let out his own held breath at the fortunate news, but Zhanna simply stared at her parents in confusion.

“Mama, what is a soulstring?”

Her father reached out to grasp her mother’s hand, and the two of them smiled down at their daughter.

“Young Zhanna, a soulstring is leetle red string around your pinkie that connects you to your soulmate: the person you are destined to fall in love with. Some people’s thread appears immediately after birth, but for others, it can take several years before their special partner is chosen,” Mama revealed.

Papa added on, motioning to Mikhail in the process.

“The tighter the string is, the farther you are away from your soulmate. Seeing as your brother’s is strong enough to cut off circulation, there is good chance his soulmate does not live in this country.”

Zhanna glanced over at the thread on Mikhail’s finger and then back to her parents, crossing her arms.

“What happens to the string when you find your ‘soulmate?’“ Zhanna inquired.

Papa crouched down to ruffle his daughter’s hair while Mama picked up Mikhail and left the room to resume dinner.

“Once you meet fated love, the string falls off for good,” he explained.

The small girl beamed and ran a hand through her black hair.

“Chudesno! I can’t wait to get my soulstring!”

Mikhail had given up on his chances of ever finding his love or feeling his finger again.

Forty seven years had passed since the red string initially appeared on his pinkie, and not once had he ever felt it loosen up. He felt hopeless and silently wondered most days if the higher beings had made a mistake. Maybe he truly wasn’t attached to anyone and they had tied the thread just to spite him. Instead, the Russian decided to spend his time taking care of his family.

His father had long since passed and Yana and Bronislava had run off with their soulmates, but at least Mikhail could still provide for his mother and Zhanna.

An ad in the newspaper intrigued him one morning: a mercenary job in America offering thousands. The giant immediately took to calling the company, known as Mann Co., and asked for a position. Not only would he be able to make enough money to provide a comfortable life for Mama and his sister, he was delighted at the opportunity to wield guns against evil men with no consequence. Moving away from the Russian blizzards would also prove to be a positive change.

Within two months of his interview, the new Heavy Weapons Specialist was landing down in New Mexico. A few days were spent getting used to his new surroundings and signing paperwork, but eventually, the bus came by his hotel to take him to the Reliable Excavation Demolition base.

While lounging in the tough leather seat, Heavy glanced at the surrounding seats and took notice of two other men sitting in the back. They both wore red and yellow bands on their arms, indicating they were some of Mikhail’s new teammates. Preferring not to spend a year with a group of people who disliked him, the Russian moved to the back of the bus to make a good first impression.

“Privet, I am Heavy Weapons Guy,” he began.

The two men looked up from their respective pieces of literature. The younger of the two lazily held and flipped a baseball magazine with one hand. The other man, taller and masked, was gripping a thick, plain-covered novel.

“Yo! I heard that our Heavy was supposed to be, well, you know, heavy, but damn you’re fa--OWW!” The Bostonian shouted, being met with a swift slap from the man sitting beside him.

“Please ignore Scout here. This rotten bunny doesn’t seem to have any manners.”

“Go to hell, you French bastard!” Scout shot back.

The insults continued and Heavy found himself silently slinking back into his seat. He had the strength to snap both of them like toothpicks if he so desired, but it was better not to end his career before it started.

Along the ride, the bus stopped several times to pick up the rest of the RED team. First came their pyromaniac and engineer, then the sniper and soldier. The demolition’s expert came by himself and the final stop was saved for a relatively young woman in a purple dress.

“Er, hello, everyone. I am Miss Pauling, your boss’s secretary. I’m scheduled to give you guys a tour around the base and to break down your jobs. Raise your hand if you have any questions and please, try to cooperate with one another,” the woman sighed.

Dell, the shortest man on the team with a yellow hardhat, raised his hand.

“Yes, Engineer?” Miss Pauling prompted.

“Isn’t there supposed to be one more fella here with us?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Miss Pauling glanced toward the ceiling briefly as if she were really pondering the answer before turning to Engineer.

“Medic’s flight got delayed due to a massive snowstorm in Berlin. He should be here tomorrow at the earliest.”

It was impossible to notice the difference just by looking at it, but Mikhail nearly jerked forward when he felt it. Was he really going insane in his desperation? Had the string really just loosened? It most certainly had, he had felt the pressure ease up ever so slightly, but something in the back of his mind that told him it was just his imagination. The giant shook his head and groaned, barely able to pay attention to anything else Miss Pauling said.

His mind became a battlefield of longing versus absurdity. The thread had suffocated him during his prime. There was no possible explanation as to why his soulmate would be appearing now of all times. By forty seven, Mikhail was overweight, balding, had several scars from his time in Siberia, and was rated ugly by every woman he had attempted to romance. He couldn’t think of a single reason as to why his love would find him attractive now, and it deepened the eternal hole in his heart.

But Heavy held onto the faintest thread of hope. Maybe, just maybe, his suffering was about to come to an end. He would meet with the woman or man fate had binded him to, and he could finally be happy.

That night, Mikhail stared at his bedroom ceiling wide awake. Once their team’s doctor arrived in New Mexico, he would know for certain what destiny had in store for him.

Ludwig’s attempt at getting some shut eye on the flight failed. He couldn’t fall asleep even if he wanted to, for his pinkie was regaining its color. Somehow, this job as a battlefield medic that he had selected out of the blue was leading his soul to its missing half.

“It’s only a matter of time,” he murmured to himself, eyes more hopeful than the day he earned his doctorate’s degree.

Heavy awoke to the sound of loud yelling and banging on his door.

“Attention! You will be dressed and be stationed in the recreational room for role call in five minutes! That is an order!” Soldier commanded.

The softer, more compassionate voice of Miss Pauling sighed and spoke through the door.

“I’m sorry Heavy. I couldn’t say anything to convince him not to come with me to wake you guys up. Just settle down in the rec room in a few minutes, okay?”

Mikhail groaned, both from a lack of sleep and the sudden wake-up call. He complied, however, adorning his red, short sleeved shirt, his bulletproof vest, the bandolier for his minigun, pants, a belt, and a pair of sturdy combat boots.

When the heavy weapon’s specialist arrived in the rec room, it was absolute chaos. Spy had moved on from insulting Scout to bickering with Sniper, Demoman was already sloshing around a bottle of alcohol, Scout had stolen Engineer’s hardhat and was taunting him with it, and Soldier was shouting at a terrified looking Pyro.

“RED Team! Enough! It’s only the first day and you’re already at each other’s throats!” Miss Pauling stomped, placing her hands on her hips.

Some the the mercenaries, including Heavy, faced towards their higher-up while the others continued to do their own thing.

“Now look, your first battle will begin as soon as Medic arrives. I’m heading over to the airport to pick him up, so I advise you all check over your equipment,” her words more of a command than a suggestion.

Heavy’s eyes widened. He felt it again.

He decided in that moment that polishing Sascha could wait.

Before Miss Pauling could leave the room, the large man scurried over to her and placed a massive hand on her shoulder to grab her attention.

“Yes, Heavy? Do you need something?” She asked plainly.

Mikhail nodded, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Da, I want to come to airport with you, if you do not mind. I promise not to cause any problems.”

Pauling raised an eyebrow.

“Pozhaluysta, Miss,” the Russian begged, rubbing his forever blue pinkie with his other hand.

Miss Pauling opened her mouth to speak, but her words died on her lips when she noticed the tiny gesture. Instead, she gave him a short nod of understanding and proceeded out of the building.

In the car, Heavy’s leg bounced. His breathing was deep, and his whole body seemed to sweat with fear and anticipation. With every inch the vehicle moved, he could feel the burden on his finger lighten up. This wasn’t just some illusion or dream, it was really happening. After forty seven years of waiting, he was about to meet the love of his life.

Miss Pauling took note of his anxiousness, but didn’t say anything during the trip, giving Mikhail plenty of time to ask himself a million questions. What would his lover look like? Would they be a man or a woman? Would they have a heart of gold, or a rotten core that sought to make the Russian miserable at every turn?

Finally, the airport was in sight. Mikhail could hardly withstand the separation between himself and his soulmate. He wanted, needed to find his other half. He needed to shower them with all of the affection he had been waiting so long to administer. He needed to hear their voice and inhale their scent and feel their body against his own.

Miss Pauling nearly tripped over her high heels trying to catch up with the eager Russian. She had seem some truly heartwarming instances of soulmates meeting over the years, but never before in her life had she seen someone so desperate to unite with their fated love.

He had to hold onto a railing as he stepped out of the plane to avoid passing out.

Ludwig had always experienced air-sickness while flying, but more than that, his hand was trembling. The string that had plagued his right hand for decades was loose, looser than it had ever been before. The doctor was overwhelmed; he wanted to throw up and cry tears of happiness at the same time. This was his moment, his soulmate was waiting for him.

As he stood near the loading gate, the thread loosened further, and it signaled that his soon-to-be lover was getting closer, closer.

Unable to withhold his excitement, Medic dashed across the airport. He got caught up in several crowds and passed right by the luggage pickup, but none of that mattered. He was following his heart’s call now; he let the slackening of his bindings guide his every step.

“Heavy! Please slow down!” Miss Pauling yelled, but the giant had blocked her out a long time ago.

There was only one voice he was willing to let in now. He pushed past a group of adults with the tiniest apology as he charged up the stairs. If he were anywhere else, he would have most likely been stared at and thrown out by security. In the chaos of the airport, everyone assumed he was simply running to reunite with a loved one.

An opening in the crowds.

Everything went silent.

The world slowed down.

Mikhail spotted him, his soulmate across the grand building. He was more handsome than he could have ever imagined, and although he didn’t know it yet, Ludwig also firmly believed that he had just encountered an angel.

The soulstring unraveled and landed on the ground.

All remaining distance between them was covered in a second. The force of the impact sent them to the ground, but neither of them cared. Arms wrapped around strong bodies, tears spilled out of adoring eyes, and lips whispered the pledges of love they had so desperately longed to hear.

At last, Mikhail and Ludwig were home.

#tf2 #heavymedic #fanfiction #soulmates

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godofplumsandthunder · 4 years ago

Text

Twisted Fate

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Cancer, both Bucky and reader have cancer, Major Character death, brief hospital terms mainly reffering to cancer treatment. References to amputation.

A/N: This was written for the lovely @eurynome827 2k celebration. I got a lovely quote of lyrics from Hadestown, which I wanted to do something that was based off of the musical, but I couldn’t figure anything out. Then I had a big anniversary come up and this was came out instead. It’s very angsty, I cried a lot, and well I hope you like it.

The low, steady hum of the fan fills the awkward silence. The psychiatrist, newly assigned to the case, still doesn’t feel comfortable. “Case number 32557038” was widely known in the health care center. The whispers and rumors floated their way down the hall, past the copy machine, filling the office with this chilling tale. Some regarded it as a terrible series of bad luck, others thought it was an act of some benevolent God, pouring his rage on this poor couple. Dr. Breynord, after reading the notes on the file, Breynord knew that this case was perhaps the worst case of bad luck she ever saw in her career, and, maybe it was her stubbornness or naive belief in medicine, but Dr. Breynord was going to help this poor man get the peace he so desperately needs.

“James,” Dr. Breynord’s voice breaks the silence of the office, “I’ve read what my colleagues had to say about your case, but, I’d like you to tell me what has happened if you feel comfortable.”

Shifting in his seat, James sighs, with a small nod of the head, he starts at the beginning.

Bucky Barnes was used to change. Granted, it was other people’s change, but it was still change nonetheless. The poor folks that sat next to him each clinic visit changed, his caretakers changed, it seemed as if the whole world changed around him, while he was stuck in some perpetual hell. Every day dragged out in the same dull, and nauseating feeling, and at times, Bucky felt he was in an endless loop, forsaken by some deity he didn’t believe in. But, for however long Bucky has left in this fallen and cruel world, he’ll remember when you walked in, shattering the miserable purgatory he was banished to, he’ll always remember the day you changed his life.

It happened during his first transfusion session after his surgery. His arm, still wrapped in bandage, IV tubing leading straight to his heart, pumped his body full of liquids, as he waited for the toxic poison to enter his body. He always found it ironic, the “medicine” that was supposed to save his life, that was too dangerous for the nurses to touch with their bare hands, was willingly flushed into his body. Hair loss, mouth sores, and muscle aches were the better side effects. He can’t help but think about what is coming, especially as he sees his nurse, Thor, come over with the freshly made batch of poison [STRIKE THROUGH], chemotherapy as his doctor would want him to call it. Hanging the bag on his IV pole, Thor looks over at Bucky, giving him the “I’m going to go on a rant about something you should care about” look.

“Now James, we’re getting a new patient today. It’s their first transfusion. They’re going to be sitting in the pod next to you. I swear to the gods, I best not hear another complaint about your attitude.”

“Me? An attitude? No, I think you got me confused with someone else. I’m the brightest little ball of sunshine here!” Bucky can’t help but chuckle. It’s not his fault he wasn’t a “warrior”, blasting “Fight Song” 24/7, as he sips on a kale smoothie with coffee suppositories shoved up his ass. T

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Barnes,” Thor shakes his head as he cleans up his station, “don’t think I won’t throw your bald ass out of here. That cancer sob story, won’t work on me.”

Bucky goes back to his phone, already feeling the effects of the chemo. No matter how many anti-nausea meds they fed him, Cisplatin always makes him sick. So, he had the right to act like a grumpy old grandpa. While he scrolls through his social media feed, seeing all the accomplishments, brags, and just shit of his friends, Bucky hears your sniffles, as you make your way down to the end of the Oncology clinic, taking a seat next to Bucky. Even if Thor hadn’t given him the heads up, he would have known you were fresh meat. One infusion, his mom asked him how he could tell. It was easy for Bucky, it all had to do with the eyes. A cancer diagnosis shatters you. It kills all hope, light, and goodness that’s in you. You turn completely numb to the world, to the point where your own wailing and sobs feel muted. Bucky saw all of that in your eyes. Behind the puffy, redness, saw the shards of hope, the fear of the unknown. Before you could reach your seat, you stumble, spilling your possessions that you carried all over the floor. Bucky watches quietly as you quickly pick up your items, collapsing into the chair next to him.

“Sorry I couldn’t give you a hand, only have the one,” he wiggles his stump, and he's met with silence. Talk about a rough crowd, he thinks, his nephews love his stumpy jokes. “So,” Bucky continues, “what are you in for? I’m a sarcoma, in the arm.” You sniffle as you turn your body to look at this new man.

“Leukemia,” you confess, voice barely above a whisper. It takes a real effort to say it out loud because then it makes all of this real.

“That’s good then,” the “sarcoma” man says to you, and Bucky can see the confusion, and pain on your face.

“How is that good? How is cancer good?”

Using his arm, Bucky points around the room, giving you a tour of the room.

“See him, that’s Riley, he has an inoperable brain tumor. That young kid, with the Switch? His name is Peter, his body is chemo resistant. So yeah, leukemia is good. If you haven’t learned it yet, not all cancers are made equal.”

“Oh,” you barely make out. What were you supposed to say to that?

=====

Much to Bucky’s surprise, he actually enjoyed having your company. Your treatments lined up and so you both got to know each other well. Bucky enjoyed having someone close to his age that understood his problems. And it also didn’t hurt that you had such a great personality, you got Bucky’s dark humor (and it went without saying that you understood it was his way of coping), and you looked great. Not many people can rock a bald head. And Bucky has seen his fair share, and he can say with confidence, you rocked it. Not covering it up with caps, scarves, or wigs. Because why should you hide away? For the first time since his diagnosis, Bucky had a purpose. So, while his immune system allowed him to leave the house, he picked up a bouquet of fake flowers (neutropenia life, am I right?) and a box of chocolates to take with him to the next transfusion. When he got to the clinic, Bucky was a bit worried to see that you weren’t next to him. Instead, there sat Barb, 75 years old with breast cancer.

“Oh sweetie, are those for me?” Barb looks at the flowers in Bucky’s hand.

“No!” He snaps, as closes the curtain that surrounds his chair. He hears some huffs and complaints from Barb, but frankly, he doesn’t give a damn. Bucky only has one thing on his mind: you.

“Are you alright? You’re not here at Club Med” Bucky texts as quickly as his one hand would let him. Dropping his phone, Bucky stares at it all while the nurses prep him. And because of damn, HIPAA, none of the nurses can tell him where you’re at. Minutes turn into hours, and by the time Bucky’s infusion ends, you still haven’t responded to him or shown up at the clinic.

“Hope you’re okay. Call or text me. I'm worried” Bucky sighs, realizing how much you made his chemo treatments more bearable. How your laugh could make him forget of the poison he had to take, or how the light in your eyes could make him forget, even just for a bit, how much his arm stump was hurting. You were a drug, more potent than any he’s had before, and Bucky was becoming addicted. He’s picking at the hamburger he got for dinner, not having much of an appetite when his phone goes off. Seeing it’s from you, he rushes to answer.

“Y/N! I… Where were you? I missed you today. I had to sit by Barb and…” The sounds of your cries cut Bucky off.

“Are you okay?”

“No, Buck. I… Got some bad news today.”

“Where are you?” He asks. He knows you’re alone, and speaking from experience, you never want to be alone when you get bad news. He knows from experience.

“Buck…” you sigh, “It’s fine. Really.”

“Please, Y/N, I know what it’s like to be alone after getting this kind of news. Please, let me be there for you.” Breaking further down into tears, you cry at Bucky’s actions, actions of love.

“I’ll send you my address,” Bucky gathers the flowers and chocolates as he rushes to your apartment, breaking a few traffic laws to get there faster. When he gets there, the image of you, opening the door, eyes swollen from crying breaks his heart.

“Oh, Y/N,” Bucky sweeps you into his arm, as he closes the door behind, “tell me what’s going on hun.”

You both sit on the couch, the bag with the flowers and chocolate lay at your feet, as you stay in Bucky’s embrace.

“I’m… I’m dying Buck!” You manage to say in-between odds. “Dr. Fair... gave me three months to live. There’s nothing else they can do.” You break down in his arms, that last straw finally breaking, as you tell your newfound best friend, the person you were supposed to beat cancer with. Bucky tries his best to remain strong, to be the rock, the foundation you need, but you’re not the only one that is losing a friend. You sit in each other's embrace, as you mourn. You cry for all the missed opportunities, laughs, and memories that won’t be made.

“What am I going to do,” you whisper, your voice hoarse from crying.

Kissing your head, Bucky pulls you in closer, “we, are going to make these three months, the best three months you’ve ever had.”

Bucky lives up to his promise, spending every hour he isn’t in the hospital with you. The time you spent together changed your relationship. Neither had to officially say the words to make your relationship official. It was just you, and Bucky. Holding each other close, as the tempest waged on, trying to beat you into submission. You go on walks in the park, picnics, and one night when you both had the energy, went skinny dipping. Your logic being, what are the cops going to do? Arrest two cancer patients, with one of them being terminal? You threw caution to the wind and simply lived. Lived, breathed, and loved. Things seemed to be perfect until reality hit.

Your body wasn’t keeping up. Your cancer was spreading faster than they predicted. The doctors couldn’t give you an explanation as to why the cancer was spreading so fast. It shouldn’t have been. Soon, home hospice came, to try to make you more comfortable. And like the good partner he was, Bucky spent every minute by your side. That’s why, when you felt the inevitable coming, you felt your body give in to the tiredness of fighting, you grab Bucky’s hand.

“I love you, James Bucky Barnes,” you weakly say, giving him one last affirmation, as you went to sleep, for one last time.

As Bucky wakes up from his nap, feeling your cold body, he tries to ruse you back awake. Once he realizes what has happened, the last bit of humanity inside of Bucky snapped. He lets out a blood-curdling scream, as tears stream down his face. He strikes your face, pleas escape his mouth. Pleas to you, to a God he has long stopped believing in. His body shakes, his tears wetting your hair, as he holds you for one last time.

=====

“Oh James,” Dr. Breynord grabs herself a tissue before handing Bucky the box of tissues. “I truly am so sorry to hear that. I want you to know that I am here to help you get happy again, and to heal.”

Bucky sighs and turns away from the doctor as he wipes his eyes. “You’re just like the rest of them. You didn’t listen to me.”

Breynord was surprised that this was Bucky’s complaint. The other doctors had warned her that Bucky could be sarcastic, standoff-ish, and even flat-out rude to them. Breynord thought she did a good job listening to his story, what did she miss.

“I… I don’t think I understand what you mean, James.”

Bucky lets out a heartless, empty laugh, “you want me to be happy again. I’m never going to be. Not only do I have to live with the guilt of surviving, when she died, in my arms, but I’ll also never find another soul like hers. We had a connection, you know. It felt like we met before. When I held her in my arm, and her arms would wrap around me, it felt like I had the whole world in my arms. I didn’t need anything else when I had Y/N.”

“So tell me doc, what’s the point of carrying on?”

#eury2kchallenge #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky angst #cancer #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #oneshot

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anika-ann · 4 years ago

Text

WINSoD - Pt.6

...We Both Will Drop

Type: series, soulmate AU series (part 1, part 2, part 3)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 4820

Summary: In which the mission to retrieve stones is on and you and Steve arrive to Vormir. Some things are simply... inevitable.

Warnings: (we all know what’s coming don’t we), blood and violence, character death, mentions of suicide, language

A/N: Don’t blame me, it’s the large scheme and shit. *runs and hides in a middle of nowehere*

Part 5

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Everyone on the team had been through having their heart broken at least once; hell, find one of humankind who hadn’t. After the Snap, it was an impossible task; even children, when asked, felt like something was missing to them, feeling a deeply-embedded longing they couldn’t quite comprehend. Surely, they wouldn’t use such big words, having only been five years old now, but the sentiment was all the same.

And when all humanity felt like that, there was little space for hope.

However, the hope that barely started to take roots in the team when they figured out a way to unlimitedly travel in time and space, grew rapidly when Natasha winced in a middle of summarizing the plan once more; only to reveal that the source of pain was… insane.

It was a tattoo-like message on her collarbone.

She had received a new set of words. And they happened to be written in Sam Wilson’s handwriting, a sentence little snarky and little sappy and… no one blamed Scott for asking the question that itched everyone on the tip of their tongue.

“So… that means we succeed, right? And they meet again, more or less for the first time? I mean, we already saw a case like that.”

Despite the cold shiver running up your spine, your heart was wrapped in a fluffy warmth at that thought. It would be worth it. The sacrifice made will be worth it.

You swiftly dried the tear forming in the corner of your eye at the memory of Natasha’s reluctant but bright smile before Steve could notice. You followed him as he climbed towards the peak of which your instincts told you was exactly the place to go.

He was gallantly helping you to follow without a single ‘I told you so,’ even when you slipped and nearly face-planted. Instead, he smiled at you tenderly, concern furrowing his brow, but not once he complained about you being a liability instead of the help you were supposed to provide.

Vormir was an inhospitable planet. All built of rocks, with icy wind, sweeping snowflakes into your face and you were grateful for your gloves and Steve’s broad shoulders that shielded you at least partly.

Finally reaching a plateau, you were welcomed by a creature floating above the surface; his face red, a bald scalp, head stripped to a bone with nearly no skin, muscles or fat, partly hidden by a hood of his tattered cloak.

You never liked studying history, but even you knew who this was – or who he seemed to be. If Steve’s face and posture was anything to go by, he thought the same.

But that couldn’t be, right? The Red Skull had died- disappeared when touching an Infinity Stone. Would it really be so crazy if he was still connected to one?

“Steven, son of Sarah,” the peculiar creature welcomed your soulmate with a hiss, repeating a greeting of similar nature with you, only showing off he knew your father’s name, not mother’s like with Steve, and obviously calling you a daughter.

Which wasn’t creepy at all.

“You-“ Steve only growled and was already lunging at the man, only for his body to go through him as if the figure was nothing but a unsubstantial illusion.

You yelped in fright for Steve, but he didn’t even fall to the ground, his training preparing him for more surprising situations that his opponent being immaterial.

The Red Skull appeared to be annoyed at Steve’s antics at best; he didn’t make any attempt at attacking either him or you, only watching you with freakily knowing gaze as if he already learned your purpose here. Which was impossible, right?

But was it?

“Steve… I don’t think we need to fight him,” you whispered, averting the piercing glare of the Skull on you.

Steve looked at you as if you were crazy and threw himself on the cloaked figure again; shockingly, with the very same result.

It was an irony for God’s pleasure, you guessed, Steve fighting an old enemy, an enemy that couldn’t be defeated it seemed. Funny metaphor of his life no one laughed at; certainly not you.

Feeling two pairs of eyes on you now, you shivered.

“You don’t, indeed,” the Skull howled over the wind that picked up. “I know why you’re here and I only act as a guide. No matter how much I’d like to go another round with you, Captain, that is all I am.”

Steve snarled, but didn’t come after him again, stopping in mid-motion when you gently placed a hand of his shoulder. He ended up only leaning forward, ready to strike, shield in his hand.

He was handsome even with the scowl on his face, you thought absently and quickly brushed it off, scolding yourself for such ideas at a time like this. But why wouldn’t you let your mind wander into such territory? At the moment, you felt strangely detached from the whole scene in front of you. You wondered if that would change or if you could fulfil your purpose with your soul at peace.

“Then guide us,” Steve hissed, protectively standing between you and the Red Skull.

“Careful what you wish for, Captain.”

You followed the floating figure towards the edge of the plateau, stopping several feet from a bottomless gulf.

You closed your eyes when the vertigo overtook you, the crushing weight of your mission causing you to sway. Steve allowed you to lean onto his body, your palm sprawled across his chest, and he pulled you even farther from the edge into safer distance.

“Why are you showing us this?”

“Because that is the face of destiny you’re staring into,” your guide explained, a smirk forming on his face. Steve instantly let you go in favour to brace himself for the fight to come. Except you already knew it wouldn’t come; not the fight Steve was readying himself for. “I’m not gonna push either of you, Captain. You manage that on your own.”

“What makes you think we would ever do that?”

“The fact that it’s what we need to do to get the Stone,” you answered quietly to the question Steve had spitted out, earning a horrified glance from him.

“Indeed. A Soul Stone is a special entity. To get a hold of it, you must sacrifice a soul. You have found yourself a smart wife, Captain, for she knows this. Too bad she won’t be able to make it back.”

“Over my dead body,” Steve snarled and for a good measure grabbed your hand and dragged you away from the floating figure.

“That certainly is an option too.”

“Fuck. You. Liar!” Steve snapped at him and not even his anger moved you this time. Anger was good. Anger was familiar and in a pleasant contrast to your serenity returning.

“Am I? Or does your team have another explanation for Gamora’s death? Never in my lifetime I thought I’d see a Titan shed tears…” the Skull mused.

Steve’s eyes met yours as he faced you and what he saw in them must have shook him to a core, because his face lost all colour, his irises flashing with rage and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“He’s a slippery bastard, doll. I don’t trust one word-“

Denial. The other thing you saw in his eyes was denial.

“I do,” you breathed out softly, tears finally appearing in your eyes as your scarily high walls that had kept you detached from the whole ordeal came slowly crumbling down. “Thanos arrived here with whom he considered his daughter. And she didn’t make it back.”

Your heart skipped a beat, startled when Steve’s large palms gripped your shoulders and shook you.

“He’s tricking us, that’s what he does! Don’t let him play with your head,” he thundered, his fingers digging into your muscle even through your thick coat, strong enough to bruise.

Swallowing thickly as Steve stared at you, pleading, determined and still unwilling to accept the reality laid in front of him. You forced yourself not to avert his gaze when you responded in a whisper, a sound nearly lost in the howling wind.

“You know he’s telling the truth, Steve.”

You felt hollow. The cold started to seep through your clothing, or maybe it was coming from the inside, leaving your fingers and nose freezing in a desperate attempt to warm your torso up.

Steve’s hands slid from your shoulders as if they lost all strength, his own shoulders slumping, light shake of his head when he turned away from you, fingers plunging in his hair for the shortest of moments before facing you again.

You could see the shift in his attitude; you could see the fight vaporizing from his body, all harshness dissolved and blossoming into tenderness you didn’t deserve at the moment.

Yet you let him touch you, eyelids fluttering shut at the sensation, ignoring the weight in your stomach and letting yourself indulge the kindness of his touch. A lightest brush of fingers along your jaw, over your cheekbones, the pad of is thumb running over your no doubt purple lips.

He was committing himself to a memory of you and you loved him for it more than you could put into words, warm tears escaping from under your eyelids. He was a good man. Once again, he understood what had to be done and that for some reason, God seemed to hate him, asking him to sacrifice his own happiness in favour of others. He had to let you go.

“Then I go,” he breathed out and you snapped your eyes open, startled.

Of course, he got it wrong.

God, you were such an idiot, you should have known.

You threw your arms around him, tight embrace he didn’t fight, burying his face in your neck instead.

“We both know I can’t let you do that, Steve,” you negotiated, allowing the harshness of your attitude – read, thinking he was being utterly stupid – into your voice. He didn’t seem to mind, breathing in deeply, melting into your frame and you knew it was time to act before he could.

You managed to sneak one arm lower, around his waist instead. He just adjusted the hug, his lips brushing your cheek, angrily red from the whips by the biting cold.

“I love you, sweetheart. You were right. You had to come here with me,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard your protest and you squeezed your eyes shut, more burning tears rolling down your cheeks. Fuck, how much you hated this. “You’ll get the Stone back, yeah? And you live a life. Buck, Sam, Ryan, Pietro… they’ll be back and take care of you. They all love you too. Hey, you might even get a third soulmark-”

“Steve-“ you couldn’t help but growl at his dickish words.

“Shh, doll. It’s all going to be okay. “

Moving your hands over his back as he rubbed to-be-soothing circles on your own, your trembling fingers got a hold of what you were looking for in one of the pockets on his belt. You were a terrible actress, even worse spy, but here you were, succeeding in the worst mission you had ever been given; not that there had been many to compete with.

God sucked as a boss and clearly was short off staff if he was sending the king of Hell as his messenger.

You buried your face in Steve’s chest, basking in the warmth he was radiating, the irreplaceable sensation of safety and content his arms around you offered, something you would miss immensely.

“Promise?” you mumbled, choking on a sob, the hatred for yourself deeper than ever in your life.

You needed that promise. What did it matter Steve didn’t know what he was promising? You had no clue what was awaiting you; he couldn’t either. But he was a good man, you had learned that in thousands different ways through your years together.

“Promise.”

“…it’s going to be okay,” you repeated after him and he squeezed you tighter, as much as you squeezed the object in your palm.

“One for the road?” he mumbled, voice shaky, never letting you to answer him before his lips found yours, thirsty and demanding, breathing your soul in, leaving you feel floaty. You nibbled at his lower lip in response, low growl rumbling in his chest, echoing against your own ribcage, the kiss consuming your whole being.

One for the road, your mind parroted dreamily and you instinctively melted into Steve’s frame, indulging the last kiss of your lifetime.

Christ, that fact alone caused your chest to constrict with blinding panic, your tears like waterfalls.

You inhaled shakily as Steve withdrew with a sigh, both of you turning to the Red Skull.

Steve stepped forward, never registering your little theft.

How could he?

He had been through so much, enough punches to his face and back-stabbing for a life-time. He had learned how to stay alert, to expect another blow at any moment. You could tell he was never letting go of that, not entirely, not even with his friends, no matter how it crushed his good soul, his faith in people. He was always ready to look for danger so he could avoid another stab in the back. But not with you.

Never with you.

Which had been exactly what you had relied on when you did what you did. The analogy with back-stabbing wasn’t even funny.

“Alright. What do I have to do?” Steve asked with determination, his voice only wavering enough for you to hear it, and the stone-keeper looked at him with one corner of his mouth raised in an evil cocky smirk.

Bastard. Enjoying this a little too much.

“You mourn, Captain,” he whispered and met your eyes as you subtly undone a part of your coat. He must have noticed then, unlike Steve. Or maybe he truly had known all along, even before you had come here.

Seeing Steve already spinning on his heels when he understood the guide was having a wordless conversation with you, you had no time to actually brace yourself before wrapping both of your hands around the handle and driving the blade into your torso.

No one had told you it would hurt like motherfucker, but no one had told you how loud Steve’s scream would seem even over the ringing in your ears either.

No one had warned you that pulling the blade away would be really fucking hard, impossible even. But you had lived in the impossible for the past eight years, hadn’t you? You tore it away with a grunt, shocked at the dull agony.

You had planned two stabs, just not to give Steve any ideas, but the blinding pain slowed your movements. Before the tip of the knife could as much as graze you skin for the second time, Steve was easily twisting it from your hold and throwing it away.

You watched the weapon clank on the stony surface of the plateau, leaving droplets of crimson in the snow, hypnotized by the contrast.

The moment Steve’s hands touched you, your knees gave away and the throbbing in the wound intensified as you nearly collapsed to the ground. But he was here – he was always here to catch you, strong arms supporting you and shakily helping you to sit down.

For the first time, you allowed yourself to tear your gaze away from the blood and look up at him. His face was drained of all colour – funny, yours must have too, mustn’t it? –, his expression pure horror, blue and green fighting in his terrified eyes.

“What did you do?” he demanded breathlessly. “Oh god, what did you do?!”

You would think it was obvious, but your head spun too much to point that out. Too many words to form. Too much work.

“Played my part,” you mumbled instead.

Inspecting the wound shortly, but very much painfully, Steve was fast to press against it and make you howl in agony. And shit, there was so much blood… who would have thought there would be so much so fast? It was strangely warm against your body, soon cooling off. The contrast was fascinating.

“Fuck- hey, hey, you’re going to be okay! Look at me!” Steve ordered and the commanding voice left your fingers tingling. Or was it the cold? “We’ll get you to the compound and then I’ll be back here, figuring it out, okay? Now, breathe with me and do not-“

You smiled at him kindly or at least you attempted it. He was a true fighter in heart, never giving up. That was why you had needed to injure yourself fatally, which he effectively attempted to avoid when disarming you. But the biting cold prevented your body from resisting the brutal intrusion. The fact you had pulled out the stopper out in attempt to stab again had probably helped.

A part of you was getting nauseous at such formulation, at being content at succeeding in… yeah, there was no euphemism for this, it was a fucking suicide. A different part yelled ‘good’, because that had been the plan.

What Steve was offering sounded so, so tempting. He would make sure to pamper you when you got to the compound, falling asleep in the chair, holding your hand, sitting guard by your bedside and you would be warm, feeling oh so immensely loved… but you couldn’t allow that.

You forced the next words out of your mouth while your brain yelled at you to just give in and nod instead.

“No. Steve… I’m already halfway gone. You need to throw me-“

“NO! No! Not a fucking option!“ he bellowed, his vision possibly gaining crimson edges of rage if his expression was anything to go by. It was swimming in front of your eyes, but even in his anger, he was so damn beautiful. A piece of art. Man too beautiful not to be sculptured by angels themselves. “What were you thinking?!”

I wasn’t thinking. God had. The King of Hell told me to do it. This way we win, you know?

“We both know I won’t make it there if you try to take me-“

“You will!“ he spat back stubbornly, his frame shaking and you suspected it wasn’t because of the temperature. No, either he was pissed off beyond belief or… or scared. Because he was well-aware of the fact you were right.

Your body started feeling like floating, your eyes turning to the sky on their own and you gritted your teeth, fighting it.

Not yet. Not fucking yet. Not until he knew this wasn’t on him, that this was something you simply had to do.

“Steve, Stevie- this is why I was resurrected. This is it. I go, so you could continue the mission, get the Stone back, fight whatever fight might come. I’m so sorry for this, but you know it has to be me.”

He looked at you with so much hurt in his eyes that you would have thought you stabbed him. He shook his head violently, trembling hands pushing harder against your wound and making you let out a sound way too close to a whine. You thought at least. The ringing in your ears was getting louder and the world was losing its colours… or was it like this the whole time, on this planet? You couldn’t remember…

Yet, you would swear that a crack in his conviction appeared on his face, one he swiftly disguised and shook off, determination replacing it as he fought the tears streaming down his face. You felt nothing but relief when you realized he started accepting the truth, started accepting what was happening. What had to happen.

“No. No, that’s not true.”

Your next words tasted bitter and dripped venom, but you said them anyway, a harsh reminder of your first goodbye. You hated yourself for speaking them; however, Steve had to understand.

“We’re out of time, Steve,” you mumbled, your tongue growing heavy, funny taste on it. “We’re always out of time.”

“Please, doll, not again, I can’t-“ The way he choked on his sob told you your shot found its target, the memory crushing his hope, slowly, but surely forcing him to resign. The calm you had felt when you arrived here returned, embracing you gently and you hoped your attempt at smile turned out decent.

“You can. You’re the brave-“ You hissed in pain as you wanted to straighten yourself just a bit, to be closer to him, instantly regretting not asking Steve to move you instead. Fuck, that hurt. “-bravest person I’ve ever met.”

“That’s bullshit-” he spitted out, but he helped you sit up straighter, allowing you to nearly drown in the pools of his irises.

God, he was so beautiful, even in his grief, eyes red-rimmed, his nose running. He was yours. Always yours, you knew as much.

“My hero-“

“I’m not a Captain for while, you know,” he chucked humourlessly, a glint of something you didn’t like displaying on his face. “Just let me take you-“

“Not the Captain,” you shook your head, lamenting yourself for muddling it up. Calling him your hero was a bad, very bad idea. But you couldn’t think anymore, your head was buzzing with too many thoughts, wrapped in sensation of endless pain radiating from your gut. “You, S-s-stevie. Now let me go.”

“NO!”

“If I d-die before-re you throw m-me-“ you negotiated, only to be interrupted by the creature you had completely forgotten was there as well.

“She’s right,” the Red Skull confirmed flatly.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Steve roared, not bothering to look at him as he gathered you in his arms, not without a serious wave of vertigo on your part. And pain. Fuck, always pain. Being stabbed fucking hurt.

He only stood, torn between the tinniest chance at your survival and doing the right thing. It was ridiculous and disgusting how much it reminded you of your first goodbye. Left, or right door? You or millions, this time?

“Doll-“

“’s okay, Stevie. I love you. Al-always. Br-- the edge. ‘d let go,” you breathed out, your words slurring as you were losing control. He must throw you soon. That sucked. You would like few more moments with him.

Or a lifetime. Kisses, cuddles, playful lovemaking, friends and kids… maybe you could adopt, or just keep trying…

Steve’s features twisted in denial, jaw clenched, but it did nothing to disguise the tremble in it. His eyes were squeezed shut, glittering drops of salty water escaping, your own waterfalls never stopping. You clenched your teeth with effort to raise your hand, bloody fingers caressing his smooth cheek.

“’s ‘kay.”

He shook his head desperately, but his grip grew firmer, his steps heavy as he carried you to the edge as if he was about to meet his own end.

You swallowed your own sobs.

You didn’t want to die. You wished you could say you were at peace, you had thought you were but you weren’t. Yet, you needed to convince Steve about the opposite – again.

Life was so fucking unfair.

If that was true though… was at least death just?

Your eyes flickered to the terrible chasm, vertigo taking over once more at the image of just how long the fall would last.

Endless seconds of free fall.

But it wouldn’t be the fall that would kill you, would it now? It would be the landing.

It was always the landing.

Hovering above the edge in Steve’s arms, his eyes turned up towards the colourful sky, as if he was trying to keep his tears at bay or simply couldn’t look at you. Seconds felt like hours. Like forever, even. It was obvious he couldn’t make himself let go.

Jesus fucking Christ, how could he, after all? You wouldn’t if in his place, your roles reversed.

“Down-“ you muttered lowly and he instantly obeyed with his gaze returning to you.

The gaze he focused on you would always be carved into your memory, even in death, you had no doubt. You never knew a man could say so much about the agony that was tearing him apart with one look, but here he was. Your Steve.

When he kneeled, lowering your body to the ground, his hold slacking a fraction, you knew it was time. You forced another teary smile, lips quivering, no longer able to tell if it was from pain, the cold seeping into your bones and core or simple fear.

What was waiting at the bottom? More pain or something else? Maybe the peace, finally? How would you be able to rest in peace though, knowing you were leaving Steve behind?

“S-so good t-to me,” you breathed out shakily, memorizing every feature, every wrinkle of laughter and worry, even as the darkness started eating out the edges of your vision. You needed to go, now. You gathered the last remnants of strength, bracing yourself. “Love ya’.”

Propping your palms against his chest, you pushed away from him, the feeling of the sudden lack of ground under your body dizzying.

Wind slapped your cheeks, freezing the tears in your eyes and cutting through the wound.

The gale carried Steve’s broken scream to your ears and you sent him one last whispered sorry.

The fall seemed to have no end. But for once, God was truly merciful; you didn’t feel the landing.

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Seeing their past selves was strange to say at least and Natasha mused how long of a path they had all walked since the first assemble of the Avengers.

In a way, it carried hope too though. She had buried hope for her soulmate and lost friends a long time ago; but now it was back. They had retrieved the Stones from New York relatively smoothly – though Clint had got a bit perplexed at having his soul punched out of his body by the Sorcerer Supreme – and were on their way back to their time.

This mission was a pretty ambitious stretch from Budapest. She had told so to Clint and found herself honestly smiling at his burst of laughter after years of mourning. Some lives had been ruined, but others still remained; and the chances that what they had lost in the dust could be brought back had concrete outlines now; outlines visible on her own skin as well. Her chest ached, but her heart fluttered with the memory of her soulmate.

Her feet landed on the platform with a rather ungraceful thud, but she still managed to keep herself standing upright. One glance around was all she spent to check up on everyone; only to find two people missing.

Blood froze in her veins, the satisfied smile at completed mission slipping from her face as her heart changed its pace from excited to horrified.

No.

No, this was not how this was supposed to go! Everyone should have come back!

So why was one whole pair missing? Why-

Strangely enough, her horror only escalated when she noticed that it was in fact one person missing only; because the other was on the platform with them, closer to the ground that she had expected, stripped of the nano-suit, stealth suit darker as it was dripping water; pink as it mixed with crimson stains on his thighs and torso.

No.

Oh no.

This was not happening. It couldn’t. Not again.

Steve had fallen to his knees, hands by his side clenched in tight fists. Blankly staring ahead, not actually seeing anything in front of him, a smudge of red – three lines clearly drawn by bloody fingertips – on his cheek and his face free of any colour and emotion telling enough of a story; screaming a story, in fact.

Natasha’s insides twisted painfully and she nearly spilled the contents of her stomach. She recognized that look – she had seen it before on Steve. On herself in a mirror.

Tears stinging in her eyes, she took a shaky step towards him, her heart weeping and grieving for her friends.

“…Steve?” Bruce questioned lowly from behind the machine he had controlled, but it only filled the deadly silence.

They all already knew what happened – or understood enough.

The Stone giving away warm amber glow slipped from Steve’s palm, his fingers plunging in his hair and gripping tightly, pulling enough to make it hurt like hell no doubt.

Yet, Natasha was well-aware it did nothing to dull the deep visceral pain that overtook his whole being, swallowed his whole shattered soul.

A guttural moan left his lips as he curled into himself and she didn’t bother blinking away her tears anymore.

Nothing she could do would sooth his grief. Yet, she placed her trembling palm on Steve’s shoulder in attempt to ground him, to show him she was there for him.

A desperate shriek, a helpless cry loud enough to tear ear-drums and hearts, cut the thick air of the compound and the large frame of a supersoldier went limp, swaying aside.

Natasha didn’t try and stop the fall. God knew that he would be falling for too long anyway.

The fucked-up thing about this kind of fall was that the landing, the only thing that could bring relief, would never come.

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Epilogue

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

HOLD THE FIRE!

If you don’t kill me, you might get an epilogue, you know? One you might actually like. Just SAYING!

Also, thank you for reading :-*

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #soulmate au #marvel #supernatural #steve rogers soulmate #steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers x you #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers imagine #mcu x spn #spn x mcu #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #winsod #anika ann

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just2bubbly · 4 years ago

Text

Longings and Comm

Masterlist

Summary

"I swear if I could come, I would have been near you in a heartbeat."

Absence always seems to make the heart grow fonder and Cinder and Kai are no different in this vast expanse. After a busy day at work with Lunars, Cinder relies on Kai to make her smile but what happens when unexpected inquiries are made and feelings are slipped off.

Ship: Kaider

Words: 1502 words

Cinder's Perspective

She was so done with everyone. Every single one of them and this headache was killing her and unlike her usual headaches caused as a result of grief. This one was a real fucking headache caused because of annoyance and extreme anger.

She did something very un-queenly, like shouting in her chambers with a colourful string of swear words going in her mind.

1.2.3.4

Like every meeting that had ever happened, this was nothing different. Well, except for the appearances of lunar aristocrats. As if the stars surrounding her knew exactly what she wanted, Kai commed with such perfect timings that she wondered if Iko was behind this. If she was, may God bless her best friend, her only true companion on this entire dreary planet.

"Thank Goodness you commed. I am so angry-"

He chuckled at her loud outburst, mildly interrupting her. She would have glared if it was anyone else but Kai. However, the voice of his chuckle was enough to calm her down.

"Welcome to Royalty Queen Selene!"

"Stop saying it as if I have won a lottery ticket to visit Earth"

"So is that what you are missing? Earth?" he asked with a smirk tugging at his lips.

"You would know," she said, awaiting him to smile one of those shy smiles reserved for her.

"Kai! I miss Earth and people who can't perform bio-electric manipulation. Heck, you don't know how lucky you are! "

"Why?" he asked, his eyebrows quirking as his curiosity peeked in.

"Well, there are many reasons..." she was going to narrate each one of it to him unless he said otherwise.

Noting her long pause for permission, he granted, "Start Cinder, I'm all ears for you today."

'Ah! This guy was too good for his own self' she seemed to exclaim inside her head.

"Let's start then. I would say sit down as there is a long list of reasons. Firstly, these obnoxious Lunars- they are obsessed with fashion and by fashion, I mean an eerie sense of fashion. My eyes are hurt by just looking at them and that's not my individual statement, even Iko agrees. Plus, my cybernetics and the device goes haywire on me trying to pinpoint their true looks every time I glance at them; making it extremely difficult to focus. Secondly, their love to change appearances, like someone might be having blonde hair today and tomorrow they might turn out bald or something like that. I have a hard time remembering people, providing that I have cybernetics it is saying something. I can look through their glamour and see their true appearances but even then I have a hard time recalling them like hell, Luna needs some form of a database so that I or the computer in my brain can memorize all of them. At least earthen leaders have the decency to come dressed up in proper attire. Lunars, one man showed up in pyjamas to the cabinet meetings." She huffed and stopped to catch her breath.

Seeing that she was somewhat done with her ramble for the day, she groaned for what felt like the umpteenth time in the day.

"You have it bad, Cin, I absolutely agree but c'mon you have me and other people to complain to. Besides, how are you?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Sorry to waste your time with my problems. I should not rant like this but my aristocrat citizens are chaotic and useless who loathe agreeing with me." She grumbled.

"You are not alone actually. Vargas and Camilla gave me a headache today but thanks to you I at least have one thing less to worry about"

"And that is?" she inquired.

"Letumosis and Levana, Cinder. How do you seem to forget that you are the revolutionary?" he teasingly asked. It was not like she was fetching compliments just because she was the one who killed Levana. The fact that she was the revolutionary often slipped from her mind if not for Thorne's remarks and a few graceful acknowledgements here and there.

"My court tells me otherwise!"

"Don't listen to those lunar fools, Cinder. You are THE revolutionary. Hero of the entire universe-"

"Stop praising me like some goddess" she cut off him shortly before he decided to go into a full-blown speech about how wonderful she was. Believe her; he had done that at the last annual Peace ball before everyone.

"Besides Emperor how could you call lunars fools before the Queen of Luna? You have lost your fine touch of diplomacy Kaito."

"Well just the way you called them and I quote 'obnoxious Lunars' before a few moments. And don't you worry I'm not losing my fine diplomatic touch anytime sooner. "He joked along.

"Good, it would be a shame if you did." She exclaimed adding to their playful banter.

Soon they fell into a comfortable silence. She had forgotten about her worries, for the time being, thanks to Kai and his very charismatic personality.

"How are you?"

"Uh?" he looked confused because of her out of the blue question.

"I meant how you are doing, like not the meetings and world leaders but just you!" she clarified. It was not likely of Cinder to generally indulge in talking about emotions with anyone. However, Kai had patiently listened to her ramble so she could hear his inner turmoil if any as well.

"Oh," He said for having nothing else to say. Taking his time to answer, he sighed, "I am good, maybe. I dunno, I have never been asked about just myself like this before. I am satisfied with my lot but responsibilities make me jittery. Even then I have Torin who assists me, I am so thankful for having him. Other than that I have a sickening feeling every time I have to attend meetings with world leaders. Yet I am happier in my place than ever before. I know this sounds weird and unintelligible- " He inhaled sharply, stopping in his track, bitting onto his lips.

"Don't worry, Kai. I completely understand the feeling." She assured him. He had completely moved into pessimism within few seconds. Behind the glorious facade of being royalty, sadness and despair are what remains hidden for a long time. Cinder completely understood how it felt to have everything yet feel unhappy about something that you could never have.

She had missed his moist copper-brown eyes but his swiftly moving to rub away the moisture from them did not go unnoticed.

"Hey, it's okay, Kai," she consoled.

She said in a comforting voice, wishing to be near him and just hug him tightly while he cries his heart out.

"No, no. I'm sorry I just feel like crap for a few days and I miss you." He mumbled, his voice becoming husky,

"I miss you too, Kai. I swear if I could come, I would have been near you in a heartbeat." She said, as her synthetic heart continued to long to touch him.

There was some commotion on his end.

"Your Majesty" someone called for him.

"Cinder, I'm sorry to end on a sad note but I have to go. I am fine, don't worry, I will call you tomorrow or maybe tonight, what time is it?" he asked.

"It's 2200 here."

"Okay, so I will call you tomorrow without fail, but sorry now that I have to leave. I am sorry to sadden you with all my feelings-"

"Stop apologizing, Kai. It's completely fine. Besides, it's okay to let it out from time to time."

He was called urgently by someone in the background; making him quicken his pace as he mumbled incoherent words to her.

"I miss you, call you back later. Love-" he said as the comm was ended by him. He had failed to complete his sentence and she contemplated if she should comm him again just to hear him finish his words. However, that would be a foolish thing to do when he seemed to be in so much hurry.

"Love you too, Kai." She said for the ears who would not hear it.

A/N: This was supposed to be fluff, but things took a new turn and I could not undo it. To be honest, I can't imagine Kai and Cinder going through their two years apart relationship without slipping 'I miss you' in any and every conversations.

Your views will be very much appreciated! Be sure to like, reblog and comment if you like it! Tell me if you wanna be tagged!

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babeyvenus · 3 years ago

Text

The Wolf Among us

Bigby x OC

Summary: Sonya Blaze, A.K.A. Hell Rider, is a half fable, half mundy girl who comes to Fabletown to learn more about her side of the folktales. She works alongside Sheriff Bigby Wolf's as his newest partner and together they strive to find out who's behind the unexpected murders in Fabletown.

TW: Mentions of death, gore/blood, alcohol, smoking, drugs, sex implications, suicide, guns and ofc language.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Chapter 15: The Confrontation

Once the cab stopped, finally arriving at their destination, Bigby woke up and gently shook Sonya awake.

She mumbles and rubs the sleep out of her eyes as he opens the door and climbs out of the cab with her following behind. Bigby stops to light a cigarette, and Sonya looks at it with an eyebrow raised. She never understood why he needed one every 5 minutes.

They enter the empty looking shop, curiously looking around. Bigby huffed out a puff of smoke when he noticed a sign that said No smoking. He rolled his eyes, taking another drag before squashing it under his foot. The front of the shop was pretty small. A machine that held drinks was almost practically empty.

There was also the cooling unit that displays the different types of meat but each slab of meat was practically covered in ice. Bigby walks up to the counter door and was about to open it, until the door that leads to the back of the shop opens, revealing a balding man.

His expression faltered into a look of fear once he saw Bigby. “Bigby Wolf?”, he asked and glanced over at Sonya. “You must be the new deputy. What happened to you two?”, he asked, scanning their disheveled state.

“We’re looking for a piece of the Magic Mirror.”, Bigby said, walking to the counter towards the butcher. “Um… wh–what?”, the butcher stuttered. “The Magic Mirror’s missing shard! Where is it?!”, Bigby growled out.

“Bloody Mary brought it here, didn’t she?”, Sonya asked, looking behind him. "What? B-Bloody Mary? Magic Mirror shard? Wh–what kind of place do you two think this is?”, Johann asked, chuckling nervously. “Don’t give us that bullshit.”, Bigby sneered.

“I’m not. What you’re looking for, I-I think you two’d be better off looking at, uh….the Lucky Pawn. Yeah, or some place like that.”, Johann nodded.

"Listen to me and listen fucking carefully. We know Bloody Mary hangs around here. So you need to start fucking cooperating right now!”, Bigby yelled.

“I-I am.”, Johann said.

“We already went to visit Jersey. He wasn't all that cooperative until we had to get a little...persuasive.”, Sonya told him.

“I’m cooperating. I swear.”, Johann cries. “Anyway, if I’d known you two already looked at the Lucky Pawn, I-I wouldn’t have pointed you there. I-I just figured anything worth a damn in Fabletown goes through Jersey’s hands at some point. You guys know that. Believe me, I don’t wanna waste your time. And I certainly don’t mean to offend. I don’t know how else to help."

"Yeah, well Jersey had those dirty hands wrapped around my neck not too long ago.”, Bigby explained. “Oh….sorry.”, Johann said.

“He was an asshole so I'd suggest you don't follow him.”, Bigby said, crossing his arms. Johann frowned. “Listen. Crane had the mirror. Mary had Crane. And she comes around here, right?”, Sonya asked.

Johann stays quiet. “If you’re covering for her, we’re gonna have a problem with you. So you better think real hard about what you say next.”, Bigby threatened.

“I….Sheriff…Deputy, I–”, Johann stuttered nervously, rubbing his hands together, He looked behind him for a moment. “Did you hear that?”, he says, tapping the counter. Bigby and Sonya looked at each other.

Johann goes to the back door. “Oh, I’m real sorry. Hold on, I-I just gotta go check on that. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”, Johann said as he inched closer to the door.

“Butcher…”, Bigby starts to warn.

“I just have to go see…”, Johann walked into the door, leaving Sonya and Bigby confused. Bigby lifts up the counter door and Sonya follows behind him, her eyes catching a red button. "That fucker...", Bigby growled.

They walk through and Sonya looks at Bigby, putting a finger to her lips. They move silently through the freezer full of hanging pig carcasses on hooks.

“I got it covered back here, guys. I’ll be right out.”, Johann called out, his voice echoing, his voice echoing through the room. Sonya tapped Bigby’s arm, pushing a finger to her lips, reminding him. Bigby nodded and led her further.

They moved quietly, pushing the carcasses out the way. “Just wait out front, I’ll be right there.”, Johann tells them.

They don’t say anything, pushing through the freezer. “I’m sorry, Sheriff and Deputy, but you two are not supposed to be back here. For, uh….safety purposes.” Johann said, nervously.

Sonya rolled her eyes and Bigby shook his head as they pushed through. When they got closer, they could hear Johann whimpering to himself. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me. They’re gonna kill me….oh god, she is gonna fucking kill me….” They finally see Johann moving boxes around.

“They're gonna get me killed….the things I do…”, Johann softly whines. Bigby holds a hand out to stop Sonya, walks up to Johann and taps his shoulder, making him jump in fright. “B-Bigby! Please-”

“Bigby!? What happened to Sheriff!?”, Bigby shouts, storming up to the cowering man. “P-Please, guys. Please don’t. I don’t wanna die. Please….please don’t kill me.”, Johann whimpered, backing away. Bigby walks up and slams Johann up against the door. “Shut the fuck up.”, he growled lowly, squeezing Johann’s face.

“Bigby!”, Sonya exclaimed. He growled at her voice. “Bigby, he’s not a threat. Put him down.”, she says, walking up to him. He turns his head to look at her. She could see a glimmer of yellow in his eyes and she frowned softly. “Relax.”

Bigby looks away from her, dropping Johann. Johann gasps for air and looks up at Sonya, heavily breathing. “Thank you."

"We’re not done here, Johann.”, Sonya says. “I’m not part of their crew!”, Johann blurted. His face changes into an expression of realization and he lowers his head. “Fuck….” He sighs. “The Crooked Man’s people. Jersey Devil….Dee and Dum…and that mental case Bloody Mary. You wanna talk about the real butcher? It’s her, not me. This is her place.”

Bigby glances at his wrapped arm, annoyed at the mention of her name.

“I’m telling you, they muscled in on me. Took over my storage and delivery a long time ago. All ‘cause of that heatwave. That summer was even hotter than this one. I let Mary and those porters stay cool in the meat locker one day. Playing cards, having a great time. I guess they were sizing the place up. Shows what I get for being nice. I’m just a victim in this…I don’t know what they do back there. I swear.”, Johann explained.

“You lied to us in the front. Why the fuck should we believe you now?”, Bigby asked. “Because it’s the truth.”, Johann shouted. Bigby pushes Johann out of the way and squats down to pull the door open.

Once he pulled the door open, their eyes widened at the sight of some kind of lab going on. Test tubes, shelves full of ingredients and a boiler caught their attention as they walked inside.

The table in the middle of the room had stools that were chained to cuffs. In the far part of the room was a large chalkboard that looked like it was frantically and messily erased.

“What is this place?”, Bigby asked Johann.

“I told you, I don’t know. They muscled me out! I swear, I don’t know anything more. I haven’t been back here when it was like this.” Johann said.

Sonya frowned seeing a red light was on with a sticky note that said RUN! “Sonuva...”, she growled, turning to Johann.

“This business….it’s all I’ve ever had. I guess that’s why I stuck around when they took it…”, Johan said looking around.

“Damnit, you can’t act like you’re forced into this, and then turn around and help them. They’d still be here if you hadn’t flipped that switch out there!”, Sonya fussed, making Bigby glare at him.

“I had to! You two come in here, making trouble for me….but you two only give a shit now 'cause the Crooked Man stepped on your toes or something. Where were you when they took this place from me?”, Johann exclaimed. “It hasn’t been easy for me…. y-you think I wanna live with this at my back?”, Johann asked.

“Alright, Johann, do me a favor, just shut the fuck up and stay out of the way. Can you manage that?”, Bigby asked.

Sonya shook her head and walked over to the table and picked up a box, dumping the stuff out. Her eyes widened at the sight of glamour tubes. “So this is what Beast was delivering.”, she murmured.

She picked one up and showed it to Bigby. “Could be dangerous stuff.” Bigby said.

“Maybe just don’t touch anything back here? Please?”, Johann begged. “Didn’t I tell you to sit down and shut up?”, Bigby growled. Johann looked away in fear.

Bigby looked down at the shackles, frowning deeply. “These chains….who’s getting chained up here?”, he asked Johann.

“You can’t think I’m the only one the Crooked Man has under his yoke?”, Johann asked, shaking his head. “Is this what those loans get you? That crooked piece of shit! Ribbons. Chains. It’s all the fucking same!”, Bigby shouted in anger.

“What are they even making here?”, Sonya asked, frowning sadly at the thought of the ribbons. "I’m just a butcher. You wanna talk t-bones? That I can do. This stuff is way outta my league.”, Johann told her.

“There are a lot of nasty spells you could make with the right equipment….”, Sonya muttered, looking around.

Bigby goes over to the table and sees packages with the same symbols he saw at the Tweedles' office and Greenleaf’s. “That symbol. It’s on all the packages. What is it?”

“That’s the Crooked Man’s….brand. It’s on everything that goes in and out of here.”, Johann explained.

“So you do know something, huh?”, Bigby said, rolling his eyes. Sonya leaned in to examine it closely.

“Is it a wheel or..?”, she asked Johann.

“It’s from back in the Homelands….a torture device.", he said, making her eyes widen. "It came over here with the rest of our stories. Not that Mundies need any help coming up with that kind of thing…it makes people crooked….by breaking their bones and– do I really need to explain this?”, Johann asked, exasperated.

She shook her head. "I don't blame you for not wanting to explain more. People who are really into the dark arts of entertainment are not all there with decency."

Bigby goes over to the board, scanning it from top to bottom. “Too bad they had time to erase it all. This could have been useful.” He raised an eyebrow at the sight of a familiar coat.

He bends down and picks it up. “I know this isn’t your coat.” Bigby said, showing Johann. “What’s it doing here?”, Bigby asked.

“It’s a coat, what’s the big deal about some dirty-”, Johann said but gets cut off by Sonya. "What if that's Crane’s coat?”, she asked, making Bigby intrigued.

“It’s seen some abuse.”, Bigby said, looking at the coat. He pointed at the blood and Sonya rolled her eyes. “I’m sure he handled it just fine.”, she said, making Bigby smirk. He opens up the coat and sees three pockets inside of it.

He digs in the bottom pocket and pulls out a wad of cash. “Hello, Benjamin.", Sonya says, grinning and looked for more clues by the table.

"No time for travelers checks, huh?”, Bigby mutters, placing the money in his pocket. He digs in another pocket and pulls out a torn picture of her from Lily’s glamour tube.

“That sick piece of….”, Bigby growled. “What?”, she asked, walking back over to him and he shows her the picture. Her face grows sour. "Great…", she says, sarcastically.

He frowns in concern and she shakes her head. Bigby digs in the last pocket and pulls out a shard of glass. “It’s the shard!”, Sonya squealed in delight. “Thank God.”, Bigby said, relieved.

“Hey! Hold on!”, Johann shouts, catching their attention. “What the hell am I supposed to do now? I’m gonna have to spend the rest of my short life looking over my shoulder for Bloody Mary. They won’t care that I held up my end. There’s no way to get out of this.”

Sonya smiles at Johann. "Now that we've got the shard, we're gonna get this done. That crooked bastard won't touch you."

“Thank you.”, Johann smiled in relief as Sonya and Bigby walked out of the freezer and walked to the front of the store. Before they left, Sonya flips the sign from open to closed and finally leaves.

Bigby waves down a cab, sighing out softly. "We're getting so close. I can feel it." Sonya smiles at him. "I'm pretty proud of us.", she says, holding her hand up. He looks at her hand with an amused expression and gives her a high five.

Once the cab pulls up to them, they climb in and look at the shard. "The mirror will finally be put together..."

He nodded before his eyes widened to the sound of soft rumbling. He looked over at Sonya as she wore a shy expression. "Was that-"

"Yeah…haven't had much to eat since we've been working.", she said. He frowned. "Why didn't you say anything?", he says, only to hear his stomach rumbling louder than hers.

He grumbles as she snickered. "I can go get us something to eat while you go and get the shard in the office.", she offered.

"You sure you'll be okay by yourself?", he asked, feeling wary of her being alone at this time. She nodded. "I don't think they'd attack me in a food place.", she says, smiling and tells the driver to send her to a sandwich shop.

She climbs out and hears the window roll down before turning to the cab. "If you feel like you're in trouble, call the office. I'll be right by the phone."

She rolled her eyes in amusement and mockingly saluted. "Yes sir."

The Woodland Building

Evening

Bigby walks in the office, frowning at the sight of Bluebeard, Toad yelling and arguing with Snow.

“I don’t care who killed the prostitutes, if Crane was helping himself to the community coffers, it means his hands were in my pocket. And you just let him go!”, Bluebeard shouted at the secretary.

“I don’t know what you heard, but it did not happen like that.”, Snow corrected. “Are you denying the facts?” Bluebeard asked, challenging her.

“She’s denying me the chance to get a word in. Now, Miss White, I–” Toad started to say but Bufkin shouts. “Sheriff Bigby has returned.”

They turned toward him. "The ole wrecking ball, himself!”, he hears.

“Where have you been? Where's Sonya?”, Snow asked, walking over to him. “I’m not finished here Miss White–”, Bluebeard shouts. Snow turns to him. “You will have to wait! Just one moment, please.”

She turns to face Bigby. “Look what we found.”, he says, proudly pulling out the shard. He smiled at the sight of Snow’s shocked face. “Seems your dog wants a biscuit.”, Bluebeard remarked. Bigby glared at him.

“Bufkin! Get this piece in the mirror, right away!”, Snow orders. Bufkin swoops down, taking the shard. “With pleasure, Miss Snow.”

“Finally. Things are swinging back in the right direction. Good work, Bigby.”, Snow said, making him smile. “You two have been gone all day. What did you uncover?”, Snow asked.

“We had to get real persuasive with the Jersey Devil, down at the Lucky Pawn, but he told us that the Crooked Man’s door moves. It’s some kind of magic door.”, he explained.

“Do you think the mirror will be able to find the door…once it’s fixed?”, Snow asked.

“That’s how Crane did it. And that’s how we’re gonna do it.”, Bigby replied, nodded.

“Excellent work. Really.”, Snow smiled. “Sheriff, I could use your assistance. Would you join me at the mirror?”, Bufkin calls. Bigby shrugs at her and heads over to the mirror.

“Don’t go far, Sheriff. I’d like to have a few words of my own with you.”, Bluebeard declared. “How about you fuck off until I’m good and ready.”, Bigby snapped as he walked over to the mirror.

“I don’t understand….this piece just doesn’t want to join the rest. Do you have any idea why?”, Bufkin asked Bigby. “You got me.”, Bigby said, shrugging. “Well, where did you find it? What has it gone through since being separated from the rest?”, Bufkin asked.

“I found it in Crane’s coat. Last person I saw with Crane, or his coat, was that psycho Bloody Mary. Maybe she had some–”

“Ah, yes. Miss White was asking about here. That explains it! You-know-who and the Mirror have a very…unhappy history with each other. How would you like it if she tried to use you as a doorway?”, Bufkin asks. “I think I already know the feeling…”, Bigby says.

“Well, I think I know how to proceed, now. It will just take a little extra….coaxing. That’s all. Thank you for your help. It could be awhile, Sheriff. I’ll find you when it’s ready. Besides which….he might not want to come out with you watching.”, Bufkin said.

Bigby raised an eyebrow at this info. “Oh, he doesn’t like being spied on?”, Bigby asked, intrigued and crossed his arms.

Bufkin shrugs and smiles at him. Bigby turns around to walk back towards the other three and Snow walks up to him. “Is it fixed? Did you ask about the Crooked Man?”, she asked him. “Bufkin’s still working on it. He said it might be awhile.”, Bigby informed Snow.

She sighs and looks at Bluebeard and Toad, who were arguing with each other. “I can’t take those two right now. We’re to catch a murderer, and they’re….they’re over there bickering about bureaucracy. We’re….at war! Don’t they realize that?”, Snow asked, frustrated.

Bigby raised an eyebrow. “Do you need help over there?"

"Yeah, thanks.”, Snow said, smiling. “Go talk to Toad…but just so you know….we can’t pay him. He really needs to go to the Farm, you know. So, just break the news and be done with it, okay?”

Bigby sighed and goes to lean on the edge of a table. Snow goes to sit in Crane’s old desk and begins to talk to Bluebeard. “Toad! C'mere!”, Bigby calls out.

Toad turns to face him and rolls his eyes. “I see how it is. Passed off to an underling, eh? Why am I not surprised?”, Toad said as he waddled over to him. “Well you two did cause what damage brings me in here, so maybe it’s for the best. Just need a little bit more dosh to cover it. I tried talking to her about it, but it’s like chatting up a brick wall, it is. Now I’m sure you’ve got your own agenda, Sheriff. But I’ve taken a real wallop because of you two. And you can’t deny that.”

“I’m starting to think you don’t take me seriously, Toad. How many times have we told you to get glamoured up?”, Bigby asked as he stood up, putting his hands on his hips. “You know that when you’re out of glamour, we gotta send you to the Farm.”

Toad narrows his eyes at the bigger male. “Well….How about your friend, the pig, hm? Isn’t he going to the Farm, too? Yeah, you thought we didn’t know about him, huh? The worst kept secret in Fabletown. For a friend, the rules’ll bend.”

“Colin stays in my apartment. It’s a lot different than a three-foot-tall frog walking the streets.” Bigby replied. “What?! If the pig doesn’t have to go, I shouldn’t either!”, Toad disagreed, angered. Bigby returned the gesture with a glare.

“Okay, okay. If you give me one more chance and hear me out. I’ll see a way for me and me boy to stay. I’m not gonna ask for any more than I need. I just want to stay. So whaddya say you just give me enough to cover me glamours and…we’ll call the rest a wash. Please, Sheriff, don’t take TJ away from the only home he knows. This whole glamour rule is….oppressive. I’ve done nothing wrong but look different. You know it’s not right….burdening the weakest of us like this.” Toad said, giving him sad eyes.

Bigby sighed heavily and remembered picking a wad of cash out of Crane's pocket. He grimaced thinking that he should've given it to Sonya just in case she didn't have enough to buy for food but gave it to Toad anyways.

"Here. This was Crane’s money but I don’t think he'll need this anymore.", he says, pulling the wad out. Before he gave it to Toad, he gave him a fixed look. "This is for your glamours only. If you buy unnecessary shit, you will go to the Farm. Am I clear?"

Toad nodded excitedly and skipped away, whistling. Snow noticed this and looked at Bigby in confusion.

“Bluebeard! You wanna talk? Now’s your chance.”, Bigby yelled. “I’ve just made my donation funding this office, so direct your questions to Miss White.”, Bluebeard says and leaves the office. Bigby's eye twitches in annoyance as he rubbed his temples to get rid of the oncoming headache.

“Well, at least he’s not trying to get rid of me….”, he hears Snow say. “He’s not?”, Bigby asked. “For now….did you two take care of Toad? I mean….I saw the way he left…I know it may not seem that important right now. But glamours are the law for a very good reason.”, Snow said, her hands on her hips.

“I took care of it. Let's not worry about that.”, he said.

“Fine. We’ll deal with it later.” , she said, sighing. “I know I should be asking how it got like this….but I just keep wondering why it happened….to Faith and Lily. You two have seen his world. Do you guys have any idea why he’d want them dead?”, Snow asked, pacing around.

“If there’s one thing we’ve figured out, it’s that the Crooked Man is all about control. It’s what he does with the loans at the Pawn Shop, the magic he peddles…chains…ribbons. Maybe Faith and Lily weren’t doing what they were told. Or….maybe they just tried to leave.”, Bigby said.

“Sheriff! Miss White! I believe the mirror is repaired!”, Bufkin announces. They look at each other before walking to the mirror.

“I have to say, I have been better…but thanks for putting me back together.”, the Mirror rhymes. Snow sighs and steps up. “Mirror, mirror….we’re glad you weren’t slain. Now please show us….that sick creep Crane.”

The mirror then shows Crane and Bloody Mary talking. “You will get on that plane to Paris and you will wait for the day the Crooked Man needs you. Until then, not a peep. Otherwise, I get to deal with you my way. So please….please disobey.”, Mary said to Crane, threateningly.

Suddenly, Mary looks around as if she were searching for something. “Wait a minute….someone’s watching….” Then, she looks dead at Snow and Bigby, grinning wildly raised her hand.

The mirror started to shake and turn red and the face of the mirror came back into view. “What ....just happened?”, the mirror asked, disoriented. “We pointed you in the wrong direction….and looked at Bloody Mary’s reflection.”, Bufkin explained.

“Oh….her. That explains the sting. I’d rather not have to feel the pain she brings. So….let’s not do that again, okay?”, Mirror said.

“Looks like we’ll have to track him down later.”, Bigby said. “You’re right. We need to focus on the immediate threat. And that’s the Crooked Man.”, Snow said.

Bigby sighs and hums. “Uh, Mirror, Mirror…no time to pout….so where does the Crooked Man hang out?”

The mirror showed a door with the Crooked Man’s symbol on it. “I don’t recognize the door, but…that’s the Crooked Man’s symbol on it.”

“Hold on…”, the mirror said as a different door appeared with the symbol on it. “The door…it moves…”, Snow said, shocked. “Told you.”, Bigby said, smiling at her. “Wait a minute, I know that door….that’s Central Park.”, Snow said.

“I don’t know when it’s gonna move again, but we gotta get there before it does.”, Bigby said. “Bigby, wait!”, Snow shouted, making him pause and turn to her. “When you get the Crooked Man…make sure you bring him back alive. He has to stand trial. We can’t just dispense street justice.”

"Yeah, yeah, we'll bring him back here. Alive. Then we can clean him and cook him together.”, Bigby says, rolling his eyes.

“Good. I have enough to worry about here while I prepare the case against him. So, I’m going to trust you two to handle this properly.", she says and turns to hear the phone ring.

Bigby rushes to answer it, "Hello?" He hears Beast's rushed voice. "Bigby? Something bad happened!"

Beast was calling for him?? This couldn't be good. Bigby's eyebrows furrowed. "What happened??"

"I was on my way to Johann's, I know I shouldn't have gone over there but I saw Sonya being kidnapped and beaten! I think it was the Tweedles.", Beast rushed to explain.

Bigby's eyes widened at the info. His teeth gritted and bared as he tried to keep himself together. "I'll get her.", he says, hanging up.

Snow's eyes widened. "What happened?"

Bigby looked at her. "The Tweedles got Sonya. They must know we already have the shard." He storms to the door. "I'm gonna end this.", he says and leaves.

The Gothic Bridge

Central Park, 94th Street

Night

Bigby made it to the door with the symbol on it, just in time. He steps in, a bright light blinding him for a moment before he realized he's been teleported to a different area.

It seemed like a castle hall of some sort. He heard footsteps and hid behind a wall, getting ready to pounce on whoever was here. Instead of an actual threat, there was a young man with a crutch and a leg brace on his left leg.

“Tim? What the hell are you doing here?”, Bigby asked, shocked.

“Good evening, Sheriff.”, Tim said and held his left hand out towards him. “I’m here to take you guys to the boss. Thanks, by the way…for leaving off Tiny. Tiny Tim. You’d think I’d have outgrown that centuries ago."

Bigby looks at Tim’s hand and shakes it. Tim smiles at his gesture and lets go. "I have to admit, when they asked me to watch the door….I wasn’t sure what to expect when you came through that portal. I know you aren’t here on a social call.”, Tim said.

“Hold on, you’ve just been waiting for me to show up?”, Bigby asked him. “You knew I was coming?”

“That’s what they told me.”, Tim replied. “I dunno, they said you two made it pretty clear. I’m supposed to bring you right on in, so….If you will come this way….”, he said, beginning to lead him away. “Look, this is the one thing I have to do. Please, don’t make this hard on me… I don’t want to get in trouble. So…if you can follow me.”

“Fine. Lead on.”, Bigby said. Tim smiles at him and turns, starting to walk down the hall with Bigby following behind.

“Thanks for understanding. This is all I’m here to do, and…I don’t want to mess it up. I know I’m probably the last person you’d expect to be a…guard. Or an escort for that matter. I was a little surprised, myself, when they asked me to do it. I thought it was a joke, actually.”, Tim explained.

“You shouldn’t be here, Tim. This place is dangerous. Especially for someone…like you.”, Bigby says, looking at the man's leg.

“It’s…not like that. Whatever you may think of him….he doesn’t treat me like some….broken little kid. I think he gets what it’s like.”, Tim said as he pats his left leg. “He gave me a job. And I’m lucky to have it. This is the only option I’ve got. Just….keep that in mind, maybe? ‘Cause if you and the boss go up against each other….the rest of Fabletown is gonna get caught in the middle.”

“I understand the position you’re in, but you don’t have to do this. There are other things you could do.”, Bigby says. “So it’s just that easy?” Tim asked, frowning.

“Maybe not, but you don’t want to be a part of this.”, Bigby says, and begins to walk ahead of Tim.

“A lot of us depend on him. Some of us never get to the front of the line at the Business Office. But he’s there. We need you….but we need him too. What we don’t need is a war.”, Tim said to him.

“Hey, Sheriff, hold up….I gotta go in with you. Hold on!”, Tim shouts. Bigby stops and waits for Tim to catch up. “Thanks.”, Tim said, smiling as he walked past him and led him to a large door.

Bigby frowned at the laughing and loud voices and looked over at Tim. “Go ahead. You got a job to do.”, he says, nodding his head. Tim's smile gets bigger as he opens the door. “Sheriff Wolf, sir.”, Tim said as Bigby walks in.

The room gets quiet as he's met with glares and shocked expressions.

He saw the Tweedles, Georgie, Vivian and Jersey were sitting there looking at him. Jersey started to charge towards him, but he noticed a shadowed figure on the couch, reaching his hand out to Jersey.

Jersey stops. “Thank you, Tim.”, the figure says and leans out of the darkness to reveal himself as The Crooked Man. A tall lanky man with a half droopy face and a mustache.

“I know the Sheriff isn't the….accommodating sort. But you handled it. You did well. You can go now.”, Crooked Man said to Tim who nodded and shut the door.

“You see? Everyone in Fabletown has a role to fill. You just have to pay attention to what they need to help them find it.”, Crooked Man said as he slammed the end of his cane on the floor.

“Why don’t you have a seat, Sheriff? We have a great deal to discuss.”, Crooked Man said as he offered a chair for him. Bigby takes a few steps forward, pulls out his cigarette pack, pulls one out and lights his cigarette.

“You’ve come a long way. You must be tired.” Crooked Man said. Bigby continues to smoke his cigarette, nearly biting through it. He notices Jersey reaching for his gun and almost snorted in amusement.

“And if my envoys are correct….you two haven’t had a lot of rest recently. Please, relax for a moment, will you? Do you want a drink? Something to eat? Vivian makes a very nice, very…. it’s elegant, really. Her carpaccio. It’s lobster….sirloin….”, he continued to offer.

He pulled his cigarette out, blowing out a large puff of smoke. "Speaking of my partner... where the hell is she?", he glared at the man. The Crooked Man nodded. "Ah...Ms. Sonya. She's here...just resting for a moment."

He looked up at Vivian. "Dear, will you go fetch her, please?" Vivian nodded and brought out an unconscious Sonya, cuffed and laid limp in Vivian's arms.

Bigby's jaw clenched at the sight as Vivian hands her to him. He cradled her, now getting a good look at her face as he felt himself getting angrier. Her face, nearly swollen and bloodied. A split lip, her eyes blackening and a good cut across her cheek.

He held her close and glared at the Tweedles. "What the fuck did you two do." They tried keeping a smug expression on their faces but nearly cowered back at his calm, angered voice.

"They were simply protecting me.", The Crooked Man explained. Bigby snapped his attention over to the lanky man. "Protecting??? She went to go get food. How were you in any danger?"

"I'll admit, they did go a little overboard but they mean well.", he replied, making Bigby's hold tighten on Sonya.

She groaned softly and he looked down at her as she looked up at him with a sad expression. "I'm sorry...I didn't even make it to the shop...", she whispered, hoarsely.

He frowned. "Don't worry about that.", he says, and stands her up. “We’re here for one reason. And it’s not to eat your fuckin’ food.”, Bigby said to the Crook Man.

“Really.” Crooked Man said.

“Yeah.”, Bigby says and throws his cigarette down on the floor. He stomps it out, holding her up.

He looked at her hands and looked at the Tweedles. "Where's the key?"

Dee shrugged, giving him a smile. "Must've dropped it."

Bigby growled. "That's fine...", Sonya says, wobbling to stand a bit before jumping and putting her legs through her arms, now having her arms out in front of her. She held her hands up, heating them up enough to melt the metal off of her wrists.

Jersey gets up, pointing his gun at Sonya's head as she rubs her free, sore wrists. Bigby growled loudly in warning while she just looked at Jersey, unimpressed. “What do you think you’re doing?”, he fussed at Jersey.

“They’re gonna–” Jersey started to say to the Crooked Man but Crooked Man interrupted him. “Mr. Wolf and Miss Blaze are our guests. And I have every intention of cooperating. So don’t waste the silver.”

Jersey still had the gun aiming at her. “Sit down, Jersey.” Crooked Man orders, making Jersey finally lower the gun and sits down.

"I thought you didn't need the bullets.", Sonya scoffs, wiping her mouth tiredly. "What a bitch..." Bigby frowned at her wobbling state and stayed near her just in case she fell over.

“Well, Sheriff, Deputy…for the sake of transparency, why don’t you two tell us why you’re here? It would help settle everyone’s nerves, I think.”, Crooked Man says.

“You’re destroying this town. Apparently you've been doing it for ages.”, Sonya replied. “Destroying this town? What on Earth do you mean?”, Crooked Man asked, playing confused.

“What the hell do you think I mean? Slavery, kidnapping, extortion, murder. Something you would call the wholesale corruption of Fabletown.”, she said, getting frustrated.

“I would call it the baseless accusation of a desperate Sheriff and Deputy.”, Crooked Man replied. “How are you certain this isn’t some…conspiracy against me? I’m a well-connected man….well moneyed. People do like to take their shots at me.”

“Who would try to pull that on you?”, Bigby asked him.

“Oh, I don’t know. Fables with a grudge, people who want a stake in my shops and services….but I can understand the confusion. And I am, truly, sorry about….the trouble all of this has caused you two. And I hope you believe me when I say that I sincerely mean to make it up to you two.”, Crooked Man replied.

“The recent murders have gotten such attention as of late….I don’t relish telling you that they were perpetrated by an employee of mine. It’s a very unfortunate bit of business, but….I promise you that the matter will be dealt with. Internally. I just want to settle the issue for you two. And to assure you that it’s over with. You two really don’t need to worry yourself further.”, he said.

Bigby starts to walk closer to him. “You really shouldn’t worry yourself. As I said, I’ve got this under control.”, the Crooked Man says.

“I already know who did it.”, Bigby said, making Sonya glance at him. “Forgive me, Sheriff, for doubting your acumen, but….who do you think committed these crimes?”, Crooked Man asked him.

“Don’t give us this employee bullshit. I know it was you.”, Bigby replied. Georgie laughed at his accusation, making Sonya glare at him.

“What must I say to convince you that I’m innocent, dear? It wasn’t me. And I have complete respect for you two and your jobs, I really do, but I’m sorry, I simply can’t divulge the transgressor.”, Crooked Man said.

“No. We’re dealing with this. Right now.”, Sonya said firmly.

“Yeah, right.”, Jersey sneered. “What do you think this is? Some kind of negotiation?”, Dee asked as Bigby walked up to him. “The man said he’d take care of it. So why don’t you two take the hint and get out.”

“Sonya and I are the law, not you. Now tell us who did it!”, Bigby demanded angrily, at Dee. “You think I’m scared of you?”, Dee asked as he looked over at Dum. He looked back at Bigby and laughed. “Haha! You’re nothin’ more than a–”

"I already know who did it.", Sonya says, catching everyone's attention. She glanced at Georgie with a harsh glare.

"Why didn't you say anything?", Bigby asked. "You never gave me the chance before you said anything.", she says, looking at him tiredly.

She shook her head. "It was Georgie. I remember waking up and passing out to hear him talk about it with the Tweedles. They were laughing about it.", she says, glaring at the three men.

“Georgie.” Bigby growled as he walked up to him.

"Amazing deduction, Deputy. Seems you're smarter than the sheriff.", the Crooked Man smiles. She glared at him too. "You're not exactly out of the woods either."

“As I said….I’ll be handling the matter if you don’t mind.”, Crooked Man said.

“You got what you wanted, so just–” Jersey started to say as he stood up but Crooked Man stopped him. “Sit. Down. Now.”

Jersey sits down as Georgie looks up at Bigby. “Yeah, I killed ‘em. So what?” He asked.

“Why’d you do it? Why kill them?”, Sonya asked, angrily. “Does it matter?”, Georgie asked. She looked at him as if he'd grown another head. "Uh, yeah. You broke a law. You murdered two fables. What do you think!?"

“What’s there to work out?! I’m protected, aren’t I?!”, Georgie asked the Crooked Man. “Your protection has limits….and I think you’ve far exceeded yours. That you could murder someone in cold blood like that….”, Crooked Man says, shaking his head.

“Look, the fact is….Georgie here misinterpreted one of my instructions….”, Crooked Man explained. “Misinterpreted?!”, Georgie exclaims getting up.

“And I want to make things right. So….let’s work something out.”, Crooked Man said, ignoring him.

“You fuckin’ asked me to do this! You told me to kill them!”, Georgie exclaimed, making Sonya and Bigby turn to the Crooked Man.

“And then attempt to blame me for it! You will be silent….while we discuss what to do with you.”, Crooked Man ordered Georgie.

“This is right bollocks, this!”, Georgie fussed then looked back at everyone. “You just gonna let him do this?”

“What the hell?!”, Vivian exclaimed.

The goons looked away from him, not saying anything. “So what do you two say? Can we discuss terms? You two can have Georgie. Consider it a gift….ensuring our continued cooperation.", The Crooked Man offered.

"Take this fucker! Take all of 'em! I didn’t fuckin’ start this!”, Georgie shouts, pointing at Crooked Man and everyone in the room.

“Don’t make any trouble, Georgie.”, Jersey warned.

“Are you seriously throwin’ me under the fuckin’ carriage?”, Georgie asked Crooked Man.

“No deals. It’s over, so get up.”, Bigby told Crooked Man.

“I’d advise against that approach, Bigby.”, Crooked Man said, warningly.

“You can’t just hand me over! What the fuck is this shit! You said you’d cover for us!”, Georgie fussed. For minor infractions, not murder.”, Crooked Man corrected.

“Just go with them, Georgie! You’re gonna sink us all!”, Jersey shouts.

“What’s wrong with you people! You’re really gonna sell him out just like that?!”, Vivian asked in disbelief.

“You think I give a fuck if I’m the one who–who the shit do you think you fuckers are?”, Georgie asked the others.

“Just surrender!”

“Get the fuck out of here!”

“Things are about to get unpleasant, and I would rather you two weren’t here to watch.”, Crooked Man continued.

“I do apologize, Sheriff….but I think it’s best if you and your partner leave now.”, Crooked Man said to Bigby. “There’s no way I’m goin’ with them! Are you kidding me!?”, Georgie shouts.

“You can go join that whore at the bottom of the lake for all I give a shit! But they’re not takin’ me anywhere! I’ll roll over on the lot of you before I let that shit happen!”, Georgie shouts at everyone.

“What are you saying?” Jersey asked.

“Yeah. What the fuck? You’re gonna make sure we all go down the shutter with you?”, Dee asked Georgie, angrily.

“We’re not going anywhere!”, Sonya yelled at everyone. The room gets quiet and Bigby looks behind her, growling lowly in warning.

She turns behind her to see their reflection and someone familiar as well. She gave them a grin and stepped out of the mirror in amusement.

Crooked Man places his hand over his face. “This could have gone so well…” then he looks up at Bigby and Sonya in anger. “To speak the truth, I’ve never been a very good mediator….why negotiate when you can just decide.”

“Did I miss anything good?”, Bloody Mary asked. Sonya mustered up enough strength to change into her first form and Bigby glared at her, his eyes glimmering with yellow.

Mary looks over at them. “Well, look at you… all fixed up.” Sonya lights her hand on fire but gets punched by Georgie, making her fall back.

Jersey attacks her and she puts her hands out, burning him before he could land a hand on her. Dum threw Dee a gun and he pointed the gun at Bigby.

Bigby knocked the gun away right when Dee pulled the trigger. The bullet hits a window in the back room to reveal the portal.

Bigby turns to it but Mary kicks him across the face, knocking him back. The goons walk over to the two, making Bigby change into his first form. Jersey turns into his skeletal form and charges at you.

“You two have done enough.”, Georgie said as he picked up a knife, swinging it at them. Sonya sees Mary lead the Crooked Man through the portal and tries to chase after them but gets stopped by Jersey.

She shot a blast of fire at Jersey, making him scream out. Dee restrained Bigby from behind, struggling with him. Georgie walks towards him with his knife. “I’d like to say it was nice knowin’ you…”, he said.

"Bigby!“, Sonya yells, running over but Dum punches her in the face. She growled at him, holding her jaw. "But I’ll be glad to see your insides turned out.”, Georgie continued as he thrust the knife towards Bigby.

Bigby dodges, making Georgie stab Dee in the side. Dee falls over and Dum runs over to help his brother.

Georgie continues to attack Bigby but Bigby grabs Georgie’s wrist, pulls the knife out of his hand and shoves the knife into Georgie’s stomach.

Georgie gasped and pulled the knife out as he backed away. “Oh God!”, Vivian cries as she runs over to Georgie.

Bigby rushes to Sonya, checking her. "You okay?", he asks. She nodded and saw Vivian and Georgie disappear through the portal and left. Sonya and Bigby looked at each and disappeared into the portal.

15 notes · View notes

bitchybutcher · 3 years ago

Text

Texts I sent a friend the first time I watched The Boys, Season 2:

- Gird your loins

- I’m dying to know more about Black Noir

- Ugh ffs Homelander smarming about on stage at Translucents funeral

- It’s an empty box but I suppose how would people know cause invisible corpse

- WHY IS ANNIE SINGING AT THE INVISIBLE PERVS FUNERAL

- Aw no straight in with Sad Kevin

- Oh ok angry drunk Kevin

- Ugh not these Samaritans Embrace fuckers again

- Oh Annie. Parroting the company line. I hope she’s gonna fuck them all over

- SAD HUGHIE OH NO

- BILLY JOOOOOELLLL

- Aw Kimiko is learning

- Her lil smile

- Oooh Hughie is a liiiiiar

- Meeting on the subway like a couple shifty teenagers

- Oh I forgot they microchipped the supes like dogs

- Oh nooooo young love angst

- Oh no a Sad Kevin incident

- Aaaaand he’s been arrested

- A nice archer bailed him out

- Omfg the fake Butcher re-enactment

- Oh do NOT tell me this crazy bastard is gonna drink the frozen breast milk

- Oh fuck he is

- What the FUCK, HOMELANDER

- This visually impaired ninja seems nice

- That probably means he’s gonna turn out to be a dick

- OH FUCK

- Homelander what the fuuuuuck

- Ok what the shit is happening here in the motel

- WHAT

- What the fuuuuuck

- I – MM is making a dolls house? That’s so cute

- Oh shit smuggled people

- Homelander is nuts with power

- Uhhhh who is Carol and why is she staring at Kevin while he sleeps

- Finally an archer who is honest about how useless they can be once they run out of arrows

- Oh noooo are they gonna try brainwash Kevin with homeopathic stuff? And why do they keep offering him Fresca

- OH FUCK ME NOT ANOTHER RELIGION THING

- Oh Hughie has grown a pair since last season. Good for him

- Where’s Butcherrrrrrrr

- Body gore porn dude is called Gecko that’s too cute a name for him

- Stormfront seems like fun

- She’s gonna be pissing off Homelander so much I like her already

- OH WHAT THE FUCK THE CIA LADYS HEAD EXPLODED

- I like Stan

- Giving Homelander the dressing down he needs

- I know it’s convenient for Toni to wear the padded suit all the time but does Homelander ever wear anything else

- Oh hiiii Becca I still think you’re a bitch and Butcher deserved better

- BUTCHERRRRR YASSSSS

- “Daddy’s home”

- I’m dead. It’s official.

- The fuckin smirk and the voice I’m fuckin dead

- OH NO KEVIN IS TRYING THE CHURCH THING

- Is he making shroom tea

- Why is Patton Oswalt voicing Kevin’s gills this is delightful

- Atrain is awake again that’s not good

- I’m cracking up at Sad Kevin and his singing gills

- Homelander is gone way off the deep end oh boy

- Awwww soft Maeve in the hospital with her girlfriend

- I want to like Becca but I can’t shake the bad feeling

- Homelander is a terrible father

- I mean I know he has no role models to base his parenting on, but yikes

- It’s like if Scar was raising Simba instead of Mufasa

- ….are the gang raiding a party city store

- I love how Frenchie always looks a mix of horrified and amazed whenever Kimiko kills someone

- AWWW IT’S HER BROTHER YAY

- Oh shiiiiiiiit

- Butcher STOP JUST SHOOTING PEOPLE

- You were right this season is weird

- I like Kimiko’s brothers bedazzled denim jacket

- Butcher don’t punch Hughie wtf

- Starting with Hughie listening to the same song again, nice

- Butcher is terrible at apologising it’s so cute

- I’m sorry did Hughie just fall over trying to throw a punch

- The kid’s a dandelion omg

- Why are they on a boat? Did Karl just decide “I like being on boats lemme go on a boat”?

- I see what you mean about Homelander being scary

- He’s completely insane

- Why does this storyboard guys shirt say assbinder

- Chace Crawford is an excessively veiny man

- BLACK NOIR IS CRYING

- Or possibly laughing

- Hard to tell when they have no face

- Annie actually leaked all the compound V stuff good for her

- FRENCHIE KISSED HUGHIE

- Homelander is gonna get this kid killed tryna make him fly

- Honestly the kid looks more like Hughie

- OH MY GOD HE PUSHED HIM OFF THE ROOF

- OH MY SWEET FUCKING JESUS HOMELANDER YOU CAN’T DO THAT

- Oop there’s the laser eyes

- Oh Homelander is back at the Tower and freaking Maeve out

- OH FUCK THE BROTHER IS LOOSE

- Hughie don’t do it

- Oh ok I thought he was gonna jump off the boat

- Kevin and the cult weirdos are up to something

- Hughie no you don’t call the girl you like crying over Billy Joel lyrics

- Oh god boyo you don’t then drop the L word in the same voice message!

- He’s hopeless

- Oh nooooo Kevin is attacking the boat goddammit Kevin

- OH FUCK A WHALE

- For fuck sake Kevin

- Ewwwww

- Butcher what the fuck

- Hughie having a nervous breakdown inside of a whale

- No but why is Karl so hot covered in blood

- Actually I didn’t even need to include the blood part of that question

- Oh boy here we go, the 7 show up to find Sad Kevin crying over spilt whale

- ….why is Stormfront tryna get all up in Homelander’s ass?? I thought she was cool but now she’s all lemme suck that radioactive dick

- OH NO

- Poor Kevin he’s worked so hard to accept his gills and now Homelander has knocked him back down

- Oooo dear Atrain is having a heart attack again this isn’t good

- Oh fuck is Hughie gon get caught

- Oh no it’s Annie it’s ok

- OH FUCK

- ANNIE WHY

- THAT’S YOUR HUGHIE

- OH MAN KIMIKO’S BROTHER IS BADASS YES SQUASH THE SMUG PRICK

- Oh I do NOT like Stormfront holy fuckin shit what’s wrong with this woman

- Poor Kimiko

- What’s with the random woman talking about calling off her wedding?

- Why is Frenchie taking drugs

- FUCK SAKE FRENCHIE DON’T TRY KISS A GIRL WHEN SHE’S GRIEVING

- What the FUCK is thiiiiis

- Is he dreaming or is this the shapeshifter tryna stay alive by granting Homelander some sick wish

- Yikes I feel bad for Doppelganger

- I am fascinated by whoever and whatever the fuck Black Noir is

- MM sees right through everyone’s bullshit

- I feel so bad for Annie

- Ooooo Atrain getting fired

- MM having to put up with Hughie and Annie having a we didn’t start the fire singalong 😂

- Ok who’s in the weird group therapy sesh with these women with strange views on love

- Vending machine date so cute

- Omfg ahahahaha the girl with the Ed Sheeran tattoo

- I really want to like Becca cause she stands up to Homelander but I can’t shake the suspicions about her

- I feel bad for Butcher

- Homelander is a scary good liar

- Oh shit interviewer lady is pulling out the diversity questions

- OH FUCK

- HE’S OUTED MAEVE

- Poor Maeve what the fuck

- Ugh Stormfront

- Shut your racist hole bitch

- Oh shit Kimiko on the warpath

- Frenchie! Kimiko listen to him he’s tryna help

- MM is doing a lotta sharing this episode

- Ohhhh something bad is gonna come out about this Liberty lady they’re looking for oh fuck

- Wait WHAT. STORMFRONT IS LIBERTY

- Stormfront is like 70????

- She’s really good with social media for an old bird

- Ohhh fuck Homelander is pisssssssssed

- Christ you’d know Homelander was an only child

- Bitch you better not be fucking Butcher over

- I FUCKIN KNEW IT

- BECCA YOU RAGING BITCH

- Got her goodbye fuck then called the supercops on him cause he’s a little broken? FUCK BECCA

- Oh no Annie don’t give Hughie the “we can’t do this” talk

- Pick your emo ass up and stop being melodramatic

- All these women are chatting to Kevin?? Why??

- Also this most recent one is super weird

- THEY WERE INTERVIEWING TO BE KEVINS WIFE

- This cult thing is so fuckin weird omfg

- KEVIN GET YOUR SAD BUTT OUT OF THE CULT

- Oh gross not the Doppelganger shit again

- Doppelganger is really bad at flirting

- ….

- WHAT THE SHIT

- Nonononono don’t do the selfcest

- Not even Homelander is that fucked up

- This is super weird

- Why is Homelander crying

- OH SHIT HE KILLED HIM

- Uhhhh are they doing a lesbian scene in a vcu movie

- Christ that was terrible and way too on the nose

- “Strong female lesbians”

- Homelander you himbo fuck what other kind of lesbian do you get

- I feel bad for Ashley

- She just wants to do her job well

- Poor Butcher. His lil heart is broken

- Oh no baby you’re hurt and upset? That’s so sad let me suck your dick about it

- Oh no what’s he gonna do

- BUTCHER WHAT THE SHIT

- I mean it’s really fuckin hot but still

- There’s always a cut on the cheekbone

- “They’ve been moving her around like a Catholic priest” omg HUGHIE

- Aww he called Hughie his canary

- Oh shit are Frenchie and Kimiko missing?

- KEVIN GOT MARRIED

- BILLY HAS AN AUNTIE

- Doggiiiiie

- Awwwww soft Butcher with his dog

- Aaaand now I feel bad for Atrain cause he’s being kicked to the curb

- Oh gross this interview with Kevin and his cult wife

- This is so cringe holy fuck

- Bring back the Patton Oswalt gills

- Why are the gangsters discussing musicals specifically Hamilton

- FUCKING HELL KIMIKO PEELED OFF THAT GUYS FACE

- Ahahaha the boys showed up at Butchers aunties house

- The dog’s name is Terror that’s so cute

- Hahahaha Hughie was holding the fuck pig

- Why is there a sniper on the roof

- Oh shit it’s Black Noir

- Ugh what does Annie’s mom want and why is Stormfront being her friend

- Oh hey it’s dickless

- These two writer dudes are hella irritating

- Poor Elena getting dragged into this shit

- Yes Maeve scheme against his ass

- Heartbroken Butcher is so tired

- He needs a hug

- Hughie give Butcher a hug please

- Why is Kimiko in a church

- Oh hey its Frenchie’s other girlfriend

- Oh ok Kimiko is doing hits that’s fair

- The old man just looking away like “I do not see it”

- Aw no Frenchie don’t break up with Kimiko

- Oh fuck off Cult Kevin

- Stormfront again?????

- Does this bitch ever fuck off

- DID SHE JUST CALL ATRAIN GARBAGE

- Wait why is Homelander giving an unapproved speech

- This is gonna end in someone getting murdered isn’t it

- OH FUCK

- That’s a lot more murder than I expected

- Ohhhh phew ok he was just daydreaming

- Ashley is gonna go bald from stress

- I adore grumpy Butcher

- Omg auntie Judy is a drug dealer I love her

- Ohhhh shit Homelander is having a nervous breakdown

- BOBBY FROM X-MEN????

- Uhhhh why is Homelander talking to Stormfront this can’t be good

- Ooh MM set a trap this gon be good

- BUTCHER HAS A BROTHER???? THAT HUGHIE IS LIKE

- Oop Lenny is dead

- The random explosions as Black Noir trips the traps

- Oh shit Butcher locked the others out to face Black Noir alone

- YES MM

- OH NO MM

- YES HUGHIE

- Oh fuck did he KO Butcher

- Shiiiit shit shit shit

- Yes Butcher save your Hughie

- Oh good they all survived

- For fuck sake Kevin stop with the cult shit

- Maeve please save Kevin from the cult

- Annie why are you sneaking around don’t do it

- There’s a lot of shots of Annie’s bum

- What the fuck is Sage Grove

- Stormfront needs to go choke on a bag of dicks

- Oh fuck no not Homelander again

- Uhhhhhhh

- Stormfront x Homelander was not what I was expecting

- These two have the WEIRDEST relationship

- They’re gonna do some really fucked up supe bdsm shit aren’t they

- Frenchie is Betty White. Fair enough

- Wait what is happening. Why is Annie letting Frenchie at her with a lil saw

- Ohhh the chip

- “This might sting a little” FRENCHIE IT’S A FUCKIN SAW

- Oh fuck that’s a big chip

- Oh look it’s loves psychotic dream

- Well that’s suitably gross

- Aww Kimiko hugging Annie

- Butcher is so menacing I love him

- Kevin tryna be helpful to his buddies he’s so cute

- NO! NO BAD KEVIN! STOP TRYING TO MAKE PEOPLE JOIN YOUR CULT

- Kimiko with her brass knuckle

- Oh man, flowers??? Homelander has it BAD

- Annie back the fuck off and leave Butcher alone

- OH SHIT IT’S STORMFRONT AT THE HOSPITAL NOOOO

- What the fuck is going on at this hospital

- OH FUCK BOBBY FROM X-MEN IS LAMPLIGHTER

- Oh shit who got let out

- What does Cindy do

- OH SHIT SHE’S THE HEAD BURSTER

- Aaaaaaand now they’re all out

- Good job, guys

- Ewwwwww acid vomit

- OH NO HUGHIE

- Are you kidding me?? Annie can’t go all Starlight unless there’s a power source in the immediate vicinity??

- What kinda fuckin shite superpower is that

- Aha Butcher agrees with me

- Ok so I’m guessing Homelander went berserk on set

- Uhhhh apparently Cult Lunch is a therapy sesh?

- Atrain get outta there

- This cult leader guy is an arsehole

- Hospital escape lookin like a horror survival game

- Awwww flashbacks to happy times

- Omfg Butcher with the slicked back hair

- Welp, Annie just killed a guy

- Oh shit a baby seat

- Annie is gonna have a bad case of the guilts now

- Oh fuck ok Lamplighter killed the kids by accident

- So Frenchie went to save his friend instead of tailing

- Oh god that’s the penis isn’t it

- Stormfront to the…rescue? Maybe? She’s gonna kill Lamplighter isn’t she

- Oh, no ok she didn’t kill him

- Aw no sad Butcher cause Hughie’s hurt

- Oh nooooo Elena found a video from the plane

- Mallory gon kill sad Lamplighter?

- Stormfront is coming clean to Homelander? Whaaaa

- She was buddies with the Nazis??? SHE WAS MARRIED TO THE VOUGHT FOUNDER GUY

- Oh fuck the head burster is still alive

- A montage of how Stormfront is brainwashing people into racist attacks, nice

- I hate Annie’s mom so much

- Black Noir has just fuckin LAMPED Annie

- Butchers mum called him 😂😂

- Oh shit his dad died

- Why are Hughie and Lamplighter watching knock off supe porn

- Oh boy a racist rally

- Homelander just threw Annie under the bus

- Hughie that’s a really weird pep talk

- And he’s gonna get Lamplighter killed

- BUTCHERS MUM IS ADORABLE

- Oh shit it’s Denethor

- And he’s not dead

- Oh fuck he’s why Lenny died?

- Shit Lenny shot himself

- Butcher was SAS???

- WHERE ARE MY PICS OF BUTCHER IN HIS ARMY UNIFORM

- Ah fuck he’s bringing stepmommy Stormfront to meet the kid

- I have an urge to run my fingers through Butchers beard

- Frenchie and Kimiko are too cute she’s teaching him her sign language

- Is this a cult birthday party?

- Poor Eagle the Archer. He pissed off the cult so he’s gon be excommunicated

- Uhhhh kiddo made a Lego film?

- Good for him

- I know it shouldn’t be sexy when Butcher starts threatening to brutally murder people in his growly voice, I know, but hear me out: sexy growly voice

- 11/10 would let Karl Urban murder me

- Oh FUCK Lamplighter killed himself

- Poor Hughie

- Why do all the bad things happen to him, like having to saw off a dead guy’s hand with a broken whiskey decanter

- Annie versus Black Noir, beat his/her ass girl!

- HUGHIE COME SAVE YOUR ANNIE

- YAY MAEVE

- Black Noir has an almond allergy that’s such an off the wall weakness

- Annie’s favourite chocolate bar saved her life

- Well Maeve did, technically. But still

- Omg Hughie accidentally saving Annie’s mom

- Hughie and Annie are too cute

- Oh shiiiiit Homelander screwed the pooch and showed the kid everything

- HAHA SUCK IT BECCA

- OH SHIT HEADS ARE BURSTING ALL OVER THE PLACE

- Butcher in his lil jumper

- For a non-American, this school safety psa video is supremely weird

- BOBBY FROM SUPERNATURALS CHARACTER IS CALLED BOB

- BOBBY FROM SUPERNATURALS CHARACTER IS JUST BOBBY FROM SUPERNATURAL BUT FANCY

- Annie’s mom critiquing her choice in boyfriends while in mortal danger is gas

- And typical

- The lads going nuts with weapons they’re so happy look at them

- And Butcher in his lil jumper again he looks so comfy

- I would very much like to cuddle him in the soft jumper and give him beard scritches

- Annie ffs let Hughie enjoy his Billy Joel, that’s a good choice

- Ahahaha Maeve just called Hughie a twink

- She’s not wrong

- Oh fuck off Becca

- Uuuuugh OF COURSE Mr Edgar is in with the cult

- Oop Atrain overheard all of that

- Poor Ashley she’s going bald from stress

- The kid is gonna have a meltdown

- Poor Hughie with his mom leaving

- I wonder if she’ll pop up at some point and turn out to be a supe that would be fun

- ATRAIN YOU CAN’T JUST APPEAR IN A CAR LIKE THAT YOU COULDA KILLED SOMEONE

- Hold the phone is Homelander actually being a good dad for a minute

- What the actual fuck is Stormfront on with this white genocide shit

- Ahahaha the news broke

- Uh oh the Vought soldiers got caught by Homelander

- OH SHIT

- MM BETTER BE OK

- Becca fuckin constantly squawking about Ryan is so annoying

- WHY IS KIMIKO LAUGHING

- It’s adorable but still

- Oh FUCK she snapped her neck

- She’ll be fine

- She’s like a wolverine, snapped neck won’t keep her down

- AYYYYY MAEVE

- The lads just watching them kicking the shit out of her like uhhh

- Oh hey Becca did something useful and stabbed the Nazi in the eye

- Huh. The kid melted Stormfront

- Good for him

- AHAHAHA YES HE GOT BECCA TOO

- BYEEEEE FELICIAAAAA

- I mean yeah, heartbroken sad Butcher isn’t nice to see, but Becca sucked

- Aaaand now Homelander covered in blood has arrived to listen to Stormfront babble in German

- This is like in those scenes where it’s like oh who will the dog go to

- Ayyy Atrain got back into the 7

- Aww poor Kevin getting rejected again

- See Kevin this is why we don’t join cults

- Annie thought he was breaking up with her, girl don’t be daft

- Butcher and the kid, not awkward at all

- The one lesson Butcher can teach a kid – “don’t be a cunt”

- Aww happy endings for all the boys

- Aaaaand a “happy ending” for Homelander too by the looks of it

- Oh ffs a corrupt politician in with the cult, what a surprise

- HIS HEAD BURST

- Wait the politician lady is the head burster? I’m so confused

- Confusion may have been aided by it being almost 3am

- Hughie getting a real job, bless him

- Too bad it’s with the head burster

- Oh this is such a good song to end the season with

- Welp, now begins the long wait for season 3, I guess

- Should I sleep or find fic to read

- Body says sleep, heart says fic

- That’s a lie, heart says Butcher

- ….Butcher fics it is

#theboys #theboystv #theboysmemes #theboystextposts #I'm back with more insanity #middle of the night is probably not a good time to be texting but hey ho #I'm still a shameless ho for Billy Butcher #that's so sad let me suck your dick about it #I mean like damn #Karl Urban doesn't mess around when it comes to thirst trapping #I need season 3 like yesterday #amazon please #the boys #season 3 #I need it

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capybaraonabicycle · 4 years ago

Text

A Family Wedding-Part 1

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

I wrote a little story inspired by ‘The Wedding of River Song’ by @elsaistherelifeonmars about one of the guests at the Doctor’s and River’s wedding

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Some swearing, I think?

Summary: Since her resurrection, between all the running and adventuring and seeing new worlds, Jenny has been looking for her dad all over the universe. It is quite difficult to track down a time-traveller and until now she’s run from one dead-end to the other. Luckily, the Doctor has decided to get married during her timeline and she can’t miss that, can she?

Words: ~2000

AO3

She wasn’t strictly on the invite list. But she had been so sure, he’d be happy she showed up. Had put on her best dress and parked her space shuttle next to the restaurant on Darillium. Well, neither of the two items were actually hers, she was ‘borrowing’ them. But no one needed to know, and she didn’t think he would mind either.

So, here she was, trying to understand why she was fidgeting nervously. She had never fidgeted before, hell, she couldn’t remember ever being nervous. Even when that bullet had shot towards him and she had jumped in between, shielding him with her body, she hadn’t been nervous. And this should be so much less frightening. He would be happy to see her, of course, he would. And his spouse would like her as well and if they didn’t, what was it to her? She was here for her dad.

Maybe she was nervous because it had taken her so long to track him down. For a man this celebrated and feared across the universe, the Doctor was surprisingly hard to find. At least if you worked on your own and couldn’t ask UNIT for help because you had accidentally blown up one of their laboratories during your first visit of the headquarters. But his wedding had been the talk of the universe and even though the location was supposed to be secret, there was always someone you could get to spill. In her case it had been a handsome face in a red robot suit who apparently had worked at the restaurant before.

And now she was staring up the front of the building, her fingers playing with the satin bow on her dress. It was a beautiful gown, dark green, knee long with a cute petticoat, that she had found in a little shop in New New New York. None of the accountants had even noticed her being in the shop, let alone how she took the dress with her when she left. A smile played on her lips as she stroked down the skirt.

Would she recognise him? she wondered, when she finally could convince her legs to take her into the bustling interior of the restaurant, silently closing the door behind her. Of course, she had heard of the Doctor’s many faces, but she had only seen the one. Apparently at one point he had had an enormous chin, another time he had had eyebrows that would send armies fleeing. She still had to chuckle silently at that image. Her dad, the soldier who refused to be one with eyebrows that were their own army. Would it be one of the two she would see getting married today? Or would it be the face she knew?

In any case it wasn’t difficult finding the wedding, she just had to follow the clutter of excited voices. And only a few steps into the restaurant past the empty reception she saw the legendary blue box, parked between an abundance of wedding decorations. Someone had even fasted a little heart shape to one of the TARDIS windows. It read River & The Doctor and she had to smile at the cursive letters. She was actually here, she had found him.

Well, she hadn’t found him yet, she corrected herself, when she rounded the TARDIS, coming face to face with a huge crowd of wedding guests. None of them seemed familiar at first glance, which was not a surprise. A little unnerving maybe, but she wasn’t one to shy away. She’d just have to find someone to help her out. What was that woman’s name again? Right, Donna. Donna was bound to be here, she would be able to help her.

“Excuse me, Miss, but this wedding is invite-only” a voice startled her.

She looked to her left and saw a short, bald man, staring at her in a way that he probably considered intimidating.

“Do you have an invite?” he asked, taking a few steps towards her and effectively moving himself between her and the party.

“Yes, of course” she lied, flashing him the sweet smile that got her out of trouble half of the time.

“Well, let’s see, shall we?” he said, pulling out a very long list from his pocket, “What’s your name?”

“Donna” she said, automatically, hoping he wouldn’t know any better, and she could go on and look for her dad.

The little man shot her a mocking glance, and she cursed her luck.

“No, it’s not” he stated, “You’re not Donna.”

“No, I’m not” she admitted, “But I’m here with her. My name’s Jenny.”

Now he smiled a small, tight-lipped smile.

“I do have a Jenny on my list” he mused, “However, you’re not her either. And you’re not here with Donna.”

“Listen, I really am” she pleaded. Of course, she could just go past him, he wasn’t really a match for her. But causing a scene was the last thing she wanted to do right now. “And I promise you, the Doctor will want me to attend. Just please, get him or get Donna, they will understand.”

The man tilted his head curiously.

“You’re surprisingly misinformed” he said. He even sounded a little amused. “So, if you came here with malintent, I don’t think you’ll get very far.”

“I really just want to attend the wedding” she promised, “And I’m sure, the Doctor will want me to. Honestly, if you could just tell him…”

She trailed off because she finally had caught a glimpse of a familiar face in the crowd. A dark-haired woman who was seating guests a little to her right. It took her a while to remember her name, but then she couldn’t help giving a small, triumphant shout.

“Martha!” she called, loud enough that it carried over the chatter of the guests and made the woman turn her head. Jenny waved at her, a little too excited perhaps. “Martha Jones!”

“Well, at least that’s someone who’s actually here” the bald man mumbled, turning around to face the Doctor’s friend.

“Do you know this woman?” he asked Martha, who had left the crowd of guests to stroll over, “She said her name was ‘Jenny’ and that she came with Donna.”

Martha was halfway through a confused shake of her head, when she stopped, her eyes flying open.

“No!” she breathed, “You are kidding me!”

Jenny felt her smile spreading and gave a little wave. It was no surprise it had taken Martha a moment to recognise her, all dressed up for the wedding.

“I’m not kidding you” she grinned, very pleased with the stunned look on Martha’s face.

“You’re not actually here, are you?” Martha asked, coming closer and very carefully poking Jenny’s arm as if she couldn’t believe she was real.

“’Course I am” Jenny beamed, “I couldn’t miss my dad’s wedding after all.”

______

Nardole, as the bouncer was called, had let her leave with Martha after all, even though he seemed more than confused. Maybe it hadn’t helped that her and Martha had simultaneously tried to explain the situation to him, reconstructing a story that was well in the past for both of them and that involved things like progenation machines, fishlike aliens and a war of seven days that lasted for generations. Now Martha was pulling her along excitedly.

“We’ve got to get you to the Doctor” she said, “We thought you died!”

“Yeah, so did I” Jenny chuckled, following her through the rows of seated guests, “But then I woke up.”

“Curious, you don’t seem to have regenerated” Martha said, smiling quizzically at her, “Must be something else that has brought you back… The Doctor has regenerated though, you know, that’s why Nardole didn’t believe you.”

She seemed, like she wanted to explain more, but a hush had fallen over the crowd and she stopped herself. Jenny noticed that they were the last ones standing and some guests were shooting them annoyed glances, while an elderly man in the fourth row was waving at them to come to him.

“Oops” Martha said, quickly changing their course and steering Jenny towards the man.

“You’ll meet the Doctor later” she promised in a low voice, while they sat down next to a young man who immediately took Martha’s hand, offering his other to Jenny.

“Hi” he whispered, “I’m Mickey.”

“Jenny” she introduced herself, taking his hand.

“My husband” Martha explained.

“And I’m Wilf” the elderly man added. He was sat on Mickey’s other side and clutching a veil.

“It’s my granddaughter Donna’s” he explained with a sad smile, when he caught her staring, “From her wedding. Now it’s a bit like she’s here, too.”

Jenny felt her heart break at his sad demeanour and the memory of Donna Noble. What had happened to her?

“Donna’s safe, she just can’t be here today” was the last thing Martha managed to whisper in a too tense voice, only slightly reassuring her.

Then the ceremony began. The giant crowd fell silent, staring expectantly at the TARDIS. Only the beautiful melody of the singing towers was filling the air now, a melancholic but festive tune. According to everything Jenny knew about her dad, it fitted him perfectly. Where was he, by the way? She wanted to turn towards the front where he surely had to be waiting. After all, that was where Martha had been leading her.

But then the door of the TARDIS opened, and she couldn’t avert her gaze anymore. A woman stepped out of the box who was nothing short of stunning. Her curls were wild even though a flowery hairdo tried to keep them in line and her smile was youthful and ancient at the same time. On her arm was a man, apparently younger than her, so normally Jenny would have considered him to be her son. But she had been born and raised in mere seconds herself, so he could very well be her dad.

“That is my dad’s fiancée?” she breathed, and she heard Martha chuckling.

“That is River Song” she agreed.

“Wouldn’t think the Doctor of all people would make such a catch, right?” Mickey snickered, but Wilf shushed him.

Like all the other guests Jenny trailed River with her eyes down the whole length of the aisle.

‘That’s my dad’s spouse’ she thought. She tried to figure out how that made her feel and was surprised when the only emotion she found was pride. Pride and delight, that her dad was marrying a woman who seemed so happy to be here, so sure in herself and the fact that she was marrying him.

River and her companion passed them and finally Jenny could avert her eyes and look for her dad. There were three people at the front: the officiant, then a woman in a long dress who was holding a little box, so she had to be the ring-bearer or the best person or something similar, and…a petite blonde in a tux. Who was looking at River the exact same way River had been looking at the front before.

Jenny’s jaw dropped.

“That’s my…” she started, stopping herself shortly to get the words right, “...mum?”

That explained at least why Nardole hadn’t believed she was close to the Doctor. When she had been misgendering her until now.

“The one and only” Martha said as River reached the front, taking the woman’s hands in hers. In both their eyes tears were glimmering and Jenny felt herself getting emotional as well.

“I have a mum” she repeated, stunned, a slow smile spreading across her face when the officiant commenced the ceremony.

Martha took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t know River that well” she murmured, “But if I’m not terrible mistaken, you’ll have two mums now.”

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :) This will probably get 3 more parts soon, we’ll see. I at least want Jenny to meet her mums and possibly a couple other people...

#doctor who #dw #fanfiction #Jenny #the doctor's daughter #thirteenth doctor #Martha Jones #the doctor/river #oh yeah: this is exclusively based on the doctor's daughter #I have not listened to any of Jenny's audios or read any comics unfortunately #a family wedding

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stovetuna · 5 years ago

Note

Hi, I hope you’re having a wonderful holiday season first of all! Second, if you’re feeling it, maybe Blind Date AU for Steve and Tony? Ty!!💖

PEACHY!! of course, darling, anything for you. Setting this in an amorphous MCU timeline again because I’m working on stretching my 616 writing muscles on another fic ;)

- - -

Steve knows it’s going to be a long night the moment he receives a text from Natasha that simply reads: Carbone. 1800. Wear the blue shirt.He’s tried—countless times, in fact—to dissuade her from doing this. It’s been a running joke between them for years, ever since that first time in the back of the C-130.

Too scared?

Too busy.

It’s not that he’s averse to the idea of being with someone. Far from it—he craves exactly that in ways he can’t articulate, not to Natasha, not to Sam, not to anyone. Sometimes, not even to himself. But the idea of dating, especially being set up on blind dates, makes something twist and sour in Steve’s stomach. The thought of being pushed into something despite his wishes because other people think it’s what he wants, or that dating is something expected of the unattached, is deeply upsetting.

Plus, his life is complicated enough as it is. Adding an unsuspecting stranger to the mix would only complicate more. And how would he explain it to them, his life? How could he ask for understanding when what he does is so outside the scope of the average person’s day-to-day reality? How could he ask anyone to wait up for him, not knowing if he’d make it back to them alive? In what universe would that be fair to a partner?

It’s not. That’s the point. Nor is it the point that he’s been nursing a crush on a certain someone on the team for the past year, a man so far out of his league it makes Steve’s head spin. That’s just background noise, at this point, an asterisk at the end of a sentence: Steve Rogers is not interested in dating.*

*Unless your name happens to be Tony Stark.

Steve’s fingers hover over the phone screen, deliberating in his head how to respond to Nat’s text. The way she’s written it is different from her previous attempts at matchmaking. No so-and-so from such-and-such is nice, you should ask her out. I met this random guy during a raid yesterday, I got his number for you. Want it? This one’s come to him like a gift of flowers, beautifully arranged and packaged, leaving no way for him to bow out of it without coming across like an asshole.

He shudders to imagine what Nat would have to text the person she’s trying to set him up with if he did: sorry, Captain America is a huge wuss. Feel free to order something to go, on me.

On the one hand, she means well. She knows Steve is lonely for companionship in ways his friends and the Avengers can’t satisfy. She might even know about his crush on Tony and this is her way of trying to help him past it. On the other hand, Nat is a notorious troll, and she could just be doing this to him for laughs. But it has been a long time since he’s gone on a date, even if he does hate the practice pretty much on the whole. One more for the sake of a stranger’s feelings won’t kill him.

Fine, he texts back, but you’re my sparring partner for the next two weeks.

Natasha’s response is so lightning fast it would make Thor dizzy.

Worth it.

Steve wears the blue shirt. He also goes to the effort of ironing his black slacks and polishing his dress shoes, because he knows Carbone’s reputation as the kind of place one goes to make an impression and/or be impressed. Tony talks about it all the time. “Oh my God, Steve, their spicy rigatone alla vodka is so good, it’s actually sinful,” he’d told him once. Steve had watched Tony’s eyes glaze over and his tongue slowly slide out to lave his bottom lip, obviously salivating at the thought of some random pasta dish, and it had taken just about everything in Steve’s power not to launch himself across the kitchen counter and chase Tony’s tongue with his.

“I’m sure I’ll try it at some point,” he’d replied instead, pinching his thigh hard enough to dissuade his blood from flowing further south.

At 4:30, Steve looks himself over in the full-length mirror in his bedroom. The black jacket seems overbearing for early summer, and he wonders if it’s worth keeping on. Should he bring it just in case? Is the tie too much? It feels like too much, especially after thinking about Tony and his tongue. Now he’s hot under the collar, about to go on a date with someone else. Damn it. Steve wrenches the black silk knot loose and pulls the whole thing off. It goes on the bed, along with the jacket. He unbuttons his shirt to the clavicle and rolls up the sleeves. (Tony has visibly admired his forearms enough times for Steve to make a deliberate habit of it.)

But Tony flirts with everyone, Steve reminds himself, and then he’s out the door. He opts to walk across town and down 12th Avenue, what should be a long walk along the Hudson shortened considerably by his long legs and enhanced speed. It’s one of those beautiful New York days, long, late May sunlight lingering in the clear blue sky even as Steve turns the corner onto Thompson Street at 5:45. It’s breezy but not chilly, warm but not stifling. People are everywhere, happy, flushed and bubbling over with spring fever. Even the hardened locals aren’t immune to it—Steve spots a grizzled bar owner just down the street who’s leaning against an old brownstone, face tipped up toward the sky, lips pulled tight in a barely contained smile.

It reminds Steve distinctly of Tony, how his eyes crease deeply at the corners when he grins.

You’re supposed to be nervous about this date, Steve reminds himself as he opens the door to the restaurant. He’s immediately enveloped in dark tones of bluish green and the smooth voice of Frank Sinatra. He’s early, but the staff brings him through immediately to an intimate but decently large corner table in the back. A waiter, bald-headed but sporting an impressive mustache and wearing the hell out of a purple three-piece suit, pours Steve a glass of champagne and another for his date, who’s starting to cut it close, time-wise.

At 5:56, Steve glances at his watch and takes a sip of water, opting to watch the bubbles in the champagne glass rise to the surface and pop instead of drinking it outright. At 6:08, the same waiter refills his water glass. They make small talk even as Steve fidgets under the tablecloth. In all of his gearing up for this blind date, the thought had never crossed his mind that the other person might be the one to duck out.

Averse to dating as Steve is, he can’t say the thought of being stood up on a blind date doesn’t sting a little bit, even as it drives home his rationale for avoiding the entire practice in the first place. At least he’ll have ammunition against Natasha the next time she tries her hand at matchmaking.

By 6:20, the back room is filled and noisy with other dinner guests, many of whom are also on dates and are doing a terrible job of pretending not to glance pityingly at Steve and the two untouched champagne glasses on his table. Steve sighs and shrugs at the waiter (his name is Duncan, Steve learned during Refill Number Three), who’s come by to refill his water glass again. How many does that make? Five? Six? Duncan glances at the empty seat across from Steve and shakes his head.

“It happens,” he says, genuine sympathy (but mercifully no pity) writ large across his middle-aged face. “In any case, you probably dodged a bullet. Want something a little stronger?”

Steve remembers telling Tony he’d try the spicy rigatoni alla vodka if he ever came here. Reservations to Carbone are hard to come by, and he should seize the opportunity while he can, even if it’s bittersweet. “Thanks. That’s okay. I think I’ll just—”

A man’s flustered voice appears suddenly from behind Duncan, cutting through the noise, words spilling out in a rush. Steve notices heads whipping around to gawk, bug-eyed, at whoever’s just appeared.

“God, I’m so sorry I’m late, usually I’m never late to this kind of thing but there was a malfunction with the—with the thing, and…I…uh…”

The man’s words trail off as Duncan steps aside to let him through to his seat. Steve is standing—when did he stand up?—and realizes with a jolt (and an unmistakable, overwhelming ka-thump of his heart) that he’s looking directly at Tony Stark, whose face has gone an endearingly bright shade of red, almost the same shade as the armor.

“Steve?”

“Uh,” Steve is too distracted by the furious blush currently working its way past Tony’s pristine white shirt collar to respond at first. “Hi, Tony. Wanna, uh, have a seat?” Nailed it.

“Sure…” Tony sounds skeptical. That’s fair. He’s probably already sussed out that this date wasn’t Steve’s idea.

Duncan, to his credit, says nothing as he fills Tony’s water glass. But Steve doesn’t miss the warning look the waiter shoots him as Tony tips his head back for a drink, or the way Tony’s face goes slightly pale as he sets the glass back down on the table, chastised.

Once they’re alone, the other diners seem to quickly get over the initial shock of seeing Iron Man and Captain America on a date together and go back to their own meals. The air in the room is fragrant with the smell of four-star Italian food, but Steve’s stomach is too tightly wound now to appreciate it.

Tony breaks the silence. He always was braver than Steve gave him credit for.

“So,” he says, “Going by your poleaxed expression I take it you weren’t expecting me.”

It’s not a question. Steve laughs hoarsely. “Yeah, you could say that.” More like you’re the last person I expected but I am so fucking happy you’re here. He doesn’t say it, but at least Tony looks more relaxed now. Smiling, they both take a sip of champagne simultaneously.

“D’you think Nat and Clint placed bets on whether or not one of us would cancel?” Steve asks. Tony laughs outright. Not for the first time, Steve watches Tony break out into a smile and wonders if the heat he feels is a blush or the fact that looking at Tony when he’s grinning like that is like looking at the sun—bright and dangerous and so unbelievably warm. Steve takes another drink of champagne to calm himself.

“Well, since they know you and I are so stubborn we’d both rather show up for a pre-arranged blind date at one of the most-booked restaurants in the city than flake, I’d say the bet’s based on whether or not we appear in the communal kitchen tomorrow morning together or separately.”

Steve chokes on bubbles. Tony laughs again.

“Hickies optional, obviously,” he says gamely, winking at Steve, whose shoulders are creeping up toward his ears. “We could just muss ourselves up before we get home and they’d never know the difference.”

“Tony, they’re literally professional spies. Of course they’d know.”

“I have my ways, Cap. Do not doubt my ways.”

“I don’t doubt your ways, Tony,” Steve manages from behind the sudden tightness in his throat, “But we’re talking about Natasha Romanoff.”

“You mean the woman who almost gave you a hard-on when she kissed you on an escalator in D.C.?”

Tony is still laughing gleefully (while Steve’s burning face is still buried in his hands) when Duncan arrives with two oversized menus. Steve waves at Tony when he offers to order for them, too embarrassed at having learned that Tony knows about the D.C. incident to speak for himself, at least for the moment. Besides, Tony knows everything he likes. (Well, almost everything.)

They breeze past awkward and straight into comfortable after that. Tony apologizes for being late again and Steve shuts him up with bread.

“Eat this and you can work it off with me later.”

Tony waggles his eyebrows at him and says, “Promise, Cap?” with a gleam in his eye that Steve resolutely does not read into.

“In the gym, Tony.”

The food is delicious and borderline excessive, coming in wave after wave along with wine and bread and cheese and free courses compliments of the chef, and by the second hour of their meal even Steve’s increased metabolism is starting to feel sluggish. Of course, that’s when Duncan places a massive, beautiful, steaming bowl of rigatoni alla vodka on their table. The smell of it alone is enough to rouse him.

“Holy shit,” Steve whispers as he ducks his head over the bowl to catch a bigger whiff of the red pepper-and-cream sauce, just loud enough he knows Tony will hear him. The other man giggles. It’s too fucking cute. Steve has to remind himself for the millionth time that this is not actually a date, because the words are right on the tip of his tongue.

“I told you!”

“Yeah, you did,” Steve answers, smiling at Tony as warmly and happily as he feels. This isn’t a real date, but he’s still having a fantastic dinner with his best friend and crush, so it’s a fun, memorable night for him either way. Steve dishes a heaping spoonful of rich, glossy pasta onto Tony’s plate first, too preoccupied to notice Tony glancing at his mouth before he takes another drink of light red wine (the price of which Duncan didn’t mention and at this point Steve doesn’t want to know).

“I like the look you’ve got going on, by the way. Very devil-may-care. How long did it take you to decide against the jacket and tie?” Tony asks once Steve’s finished doling out pasta for himself. God, it’s so easy to laugh with Tony. The man is hilarious, sure, but little things like that—things that only Tony would think to ask Steve because they know each other so well and he likes making fun of Steve’s idiosyncrasies, likes making Steve loosen up and laugh at himself—make Steve feel like the champagne he drank earlier: bubbly, light, happy.

He could spend five, six, ten more hours at this table. He could spend all of his time with Tony Stark and it still wouldn’t be enough. But there is only so much of himself and his time Tony seems willing to give, romantically or otherwise, and Steve’s made his peace with that. Mostly.

It does help that Tony seems willing to give Steve a lot of his time anyways.

And no one—not even Tony—will know if Steve indulges himself by pretending, if only for a minute or two, that actually is a date.

“Only a few seconds. Natasha did the lion’s share of the work picking the shirt out for me,” Steve replies, blowing gently on his forkful of pasta, saliva pooling in the back of his mouth as he watches the steam trail off it before taking a bite. “Why, do you think I should have kept th—oh my god,” he groans mid-sentence, eyes rolling up into his head. Chewing slowly, Steve claps a hand over his mouth to muffle the lewd moan that threatens to escape him as bold, decadent flavors burst on his tongue. Tony was right—this stuff is sinful.

Steve’s so wrapped up in the food he’s eating that he almost, almost misses Tony muttering Jesus under his breath. It doesn’t sound embarrassed or insulted. When he opens his eyes, Steve finds Tony watching him so avidly, it’s hard to notice anything else other than the way the man’s pupils have dilated considerably and is leaning forward, almost over the bowl.

Tony licks his lips. Steve tries hard not to stare.

“Sorry,” he says with a chuckle in an attempt to diffuse tension, “but that stuff is ridiculously good.” Steve’s really glad he didn’t wear the tie now, given how hot under the collar he feels all of a sudden. Tony’s looked at him a lot of ways, but never like that—like the only thing stopping him from launching himself across the table at Steve is the table, itself. “I can see why you’re always raving about it.”

“Steve,” Tony says. He hasn’t touched his pasta. The fork is just kind of there in his hand, like he’s forgotten he’s even holding it. Steve looks at him again.

“What? Did I get some on my face?” he asks, retrieving his napkin and wiping his mouth with it. Tony makes a rough, strangled sound in the back of his throat and, when drowning it with wine doesn’t help, puts his fork all the way down on the table and buries his face in his hands.

“I can’t do this,” Tony whines. The conversations happening around them are loud, but not so loud Steve doesn’t hear him say it. The words cut him like a cold knife sharply through the middle. His head feels woozy, and not in the airy fun way it should be after drinking good wine for two and a half hours. How did things end up here so quickly? A minute ago Steve was having a religious experience and now Tony face is ashen and drawn. He looks like he wants to be anywhere but here.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh god,” Tony groans, “please, do not apologize. It’s me. It’s very much me.”

This seems like a fork-down conversation. Steve places his on the table and tries not to glance longingly at the pasta on his plate. Steve knows when Tony is gathering himself to speak, which is exactly what’s happening now, so he waits and doesn’t eat. He does take a drink, though. That much feels appropriate.

“Just so I’ve got it right,” Tony finally says after an unbearably quiet moment, a palm pressed against his own forehead, “you definitely had zero input vis à vis this whole blind date setup?”

He’s deliberately not looking at Steve when he asks it. If Steve could put a word to his expression, he’d say Tony looks downright despondent at the idea, even if they’d already established earlier that yes, this thing was entirely Nat’s idea because she’s an unrepentant troll.

The dissonance doesn’t make sense. But it does put hope in Steve’s heart where there wasn’t any before.

“I didn’t,” he says, watching Tony’s face intently. He knows it so well at this point, he can tell when Tony’s smile is fake or real, when he’s wounded and won’t admit it, when he’s tired but can’t sleep. So Steve notices all too easily when the corner of Tony’s mouth dips down, a fraction of an inch of a frown, before he recovers with a laugh and claps his hands.

“All good then,” Tony chuckles, but he won’t look Steve in the eye anymore. He picks up his fork and starts to tuck in, chewing so fast it’s like he’s racing toward a finish line Steve can’t see and doesn’t know how to keep from approaching, except—

“Why,” Steve blurts out, stopping Tony mid-chew, “were you hoping I did?”

Tony’s eyes fly open but are heavily guarded when he looks back at Steve from across the table. No take-backs, Steve tells himself.

Tony puts down his fork again.

“What if I did?” he counters.

“You can’t answer my question with a question, Tony,” Steve says, smirking when Tony’s expression flickers.

“Watch me.”

“I am.”

“Steve.”

“Tony.”

Tony huffs. Before he can cross his arms defensively, before either of them can think another thought, Steve reaches out with both hands, pulls Tony forward by the front of his too-nice shirt and kisses him, fast and firm and warm. The kiss is a point being made more than anything else, but a point nonetheless.

Tony’s lips are yielding and taste faintly of wine and carpaccio piemontese. Kissing him feels more right than Steve could have imagined (and he’d imagined a lot, elaborately and often). One peck and he knows without a doubt he could kiss Tony for hours. But that’s all besides the point. The point is now, Tony knows.

Before he can pull away and apologize (again) for his behavior, Steve feels more than hears Tony sigh against his lips. Then Tony tilts his head a fraction and suddenly Steve’s the one being kissed. Thoughts of anything alla vodka fly out of his head in a rush as Tony licks the closed seam of his lips and tongues him deep and slow when they open. Steve’s fingers are still grasping the front of the Tony’s shirt; he knows he should release him and stop this while things are still relatively PG. Instead Tony nibbles on his bottom lip and Steve releases that lewd moan he’d held back a few minutes ago right into Tony’s mouth.

Steve has just enough brainpower left to remember that 1) they’re surrounded by onlookers, and 2) if they keep going like this, Duncan’s going to have to throw them out. Would that really be such a bad thing, his lizard brain supplies, unhelpfully.

Decided, Steve lets go of Tony’s shirt with a gasp. They both fall back into their chairs with a whoosh. Between them, the steam rising off the rigatoni alla vodka swirls, disturbed by the sudden breeze, then continues curling lightly upwards like nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Like Steve’s entire life wasn’t just irrevocably changed, upended, by a single kiss.

Picking up his fork, Steve licks the taste of Tony from his lips as he looks across the table at his date and takes another bite of pasta. Tony looks back. He looks hungry.

“What did I tell you,” Tony says when Steve moans softly again. This time, he doesn’t miss the way Tony stares lingeringly at his mouth like he wants another taste. “Sinful.”

- - -

Send me an AU prompt!

#stevetony #superhusbands #stony #stony fic #omg-its-peachy #prompt fill #I HOPE THIS IS OK IT'S MY FIRST PROMPT FILL OK BYYYEEEE #steve rogers #tony stark #rachel writes fic #blind date AU #steve still makes natasha his sparring partner for two weeks but then he gives her a deep tissue massage and tony buys her louboutins

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diyunho · 5 years ago

Text

The Joker x Reader - “6 Feet”

With the scary events unfolding lately all over the world, Gotham is under lockdown also. The Joker and his girlfriend are self-quarantining at the Penthouse: needless to say entertaining him it’s no easy chore but thankfully Y/N can handle any type of situation. Probably…

Batsy

You almost drop your coffee mug when you see The Joker dangling outside the railing from the second floor of The Penthouse.

“What are you doing, J??!!!”

“Pumpkin, wanna bet I can land on the couch from here?” he flares one arm in the air.

“It’s too far off, you’ll never make it!” you mentally calculate the trajectory.

“Pfft, bullshit! If Batsy can do crap like this, so can I!”

“You don’t have the gear and training, J!”

“Gear??!! Training??!! I don’t need that; I’m not a wimp!”

“Fine, go ahead and break your neck!” Y/N gives up on the already lost cause. “How much are we betting?”

“50,000 dollars.”

“You got yourself a deal Mister Joker,” you take a sip of coffee, annoyed his desire for chaos is already surging to unspeakable heights after being trapped inside for the last 3 weeks.

The King of Gotham flexes his knees a few times for equilibrium and… here he goes: barely misses the couch, one leg gets caught on the night stand and BAM! Lands on the floor with a loud thud.

“Uugghhhh,” he groans in pain flat on his back. “Y/N… I think I fractured my limbs.”

You slowly approach and ignore his complains, pointing out the truth:

“You owe me 50,000 dollars. And if you fractured your bones, I’m going to strangle you on the spot because there is no way I’m taking care of a stubborn patient!”

The Joker makes an extra effort to react at your ultimatum:

“Excellent news, Princess. I can move my toes!”

You roll your eyes and extend one of your arms to help him up.

“Lucky indeed, J. Are you doing this for attention?”

“Gotta keep the flame going, Pumpkin,” The Clown whizzes up a storm, trying to catch his breath following the glorious bungee jumping without a rope.

Baldy

Supposedly J is in convalescence, thus he wanted a haircut. You are both watching TV in the living room, your boyfriend sitting on a chair while you shape the locks behind him.

You start laughing at the funny movie so your hand slips: the trimmer shaves a patch of The Joker’s fabulous green hair, leaving him with a beautiful quarter sized bald spot.

Oh, shit!

He has no idea his perfect groomed style it’s butchered; better to ride this crazy train until he notices. You comb what you can from the longer strands on top of the mess you created, lying without blinking at his question:

“How did it turn out?”

“Impeccable, baby! My flair and precision regarding detail is through the roof,” you boast full of confidence.

The Heinlein Maneuver

You’re tossing bullets at J, attempting to make them land in his mouth.

“Wow, you’re getting pretty good at this!” Y/N praises and he suddenly chokes. “Oh my God!” you panic. “Spit it out! Spit it out!”

You run behind him and start The Heinlein Maneuver which you had to learn in order to repeatedly save The Joker as a result of this being one the couple’s favorite games to play.

One, two, three… Pfuuu, there it goes: the bullet flies out of him!

The King is taking a few moments to recover whilst you impatiently want to find out what he saw this time: whenever he has these near death experiences he sees weird stuff.

“What was it this time?” you curiously inquire.

“I saw Batsy naked,” he exhales full of spite. “That asshole is totally invading my privacy!”

“Naked?” your entitled smirk makes him lose it. “Was he circumcised?”

“Excuse me??!!”

“A girl can be curious,” Y/N defends her inquiry.

“Listen here, woman! The dilemma you should be quizzing me about is if I saw his face so we can identify him!”

“Well, did you?”

“Nope.”

“Then it’s irrelevant.”

“I nearly died Princess! All I need right now is mindless fornication to aid with my rehabilitation,” the strategist in J blurs out.

“You did this to get laid?”

“Gotta keep the flame going, Pumpkin!”

6 Feet

You sneezed twice in a row and The Joker has suspiciously watched you like a hawk since.

“Do you feel sick, Pumpkin?...”

“No, it’s my allergies,” you blow your nose in a tissue and cough due to a scratchy throat.

“Are you sure?...”

“Yes, you know I get like this at spring time.”

“Hm…” J huffs. “I don’t think we should risk infection, I’m too important for this town. I say you take the south part of The Penthouse and I’ll reside in the west. Don’t come any closer, stay at least 6 feet apart just like the regulations stipulate. You can move in the room across from the master bedroom.”

“Huh?!” the baffled Y/N pretends she didn’t comprehend the words. “I have allergies, J!!! ALLERGIES!!!!”

“6 feet Pumpkin! Don’t make me repeat myself!!”

Booty Call

You got mad and moved into the other bedroom; I guess The King wants to be safe from your allergies because that’s what you have and nothing more. Does he ever listen to reason? Nah, that would be a first.

You’re reading a book when your cell phone goes off: an invitation to chat from your man. Across the hallway…Yup…

“Pumpkin!” his face pops on the screen. “I wanna have phone sex!!!!”

“No,” you immediately cut him off, annoyed.

“What do you mean no?! I’m about to blow a gasket over here!!!!!!!!!”

“I don’t care what happens to your gasket Mister Joker, as long as you keep it 6 feet away from me!!” and you hang up.

“How dare you, Princess?!” he shouts at your defiance. “I’ll open an account on PinchMyButt and I’ll pick another partner to tend to my overloaded system!”

“Be my guest!” you snort at his rudeness since you can actually hear him to start with.

PinchMyButt.com

One of the most popular online dating/hook up websites. Period.

The Joker uploaded his profile one hour ago and instead of being flocked with pinches like he thought, there’s no activity besides users flagging the account for “inappropriate content”. Members reckon it’s distasteful to have someone pretending to be The Clown Prince of Crime searching for a match; they have no clue it’s genuine.

Another hour passes by… zero pinches.

J is getting pissed.

30 more minutes… Ding! The app announces.

“Ha!” he triumphantly yells. “Somebody pinched my butt, Pumpkin! Oh, she said I have nice nipples and a cute bald spot! I don’t have a bald spot! Who is this?!” he investigates the blog name: iHaveAllergies69.

Rings a bell: you kept on telling him this plus his girl preferred sex position…

“Pumpkin, is that you?!” The Joker shrieks.

“Yeah!” you admit from the other bedroom. “I felt sorry for you!”

“I don’t want your pity! Unpinch me! Wait, my account just got suspended: due to a large number of objections, you’re account has been terminated. What the hell?! What am I supposed to do now, Princess?“

“Dunno, you’re the one that wanted us to be apart and it’s an excellent rule! I’m enjoying my isolation; you should do the same.”

“How can you enjoy confinement?”

“I’m having fun!”

“Without me?! Impossible! I put the fun in dysfunctional!”

Boinky

The elevator’s doors slide and Frost strolls inside carrying a box.

“Not a step further!” J mumbles taking the safely off his pistol.

He misses threatening people thus when the guys bring food and supplies to The Penthouse he tries to shoot them.

“What’s in there?” he gestures towards the cardboard container.

“Not sure, sir. Y/N ordered it online.”

“Open it!” the stern order leaves no room for hesitation.

Jonny rips the scotch tape and removes the pink, fluffy toy.

“What the heck is this?!” The Joker frowns at its shape.

Frost analyzes the plush item and it clicks.

“Boss, I think it’s a…”

“PUMPKIN!!!!” The Clown interrupts. “Why does this atrocity resemble my crown jewelry???!!” he screams you as you show up in the living room.

A super excited squeal:

“Boinky arrived!!!” and Y/N rushes to get her package. “Toss it! Toss it!!” you wave your arms and Jonny does as required. “I need something to cuddle with since you kicked me to the curve,” you finally address him.

“And you couldn’t find a teddy bear?!”

Flame

The Joker barges in your bedroom while spraying around with disinfectant mist:

“Pumpkin, this is the biggest emergency Gotham has ever faced!!!!” he frantically takes his clothes off and you jump because you just fell asleep 5 minutes ago.

“What is it?” you snuggle with your fuzzy trinket.

“Goddamn Boinky!” your boyfriend snatches the toy and flings it out the opened window.

“What are you doing?!”

“I’m about to explode, woman! That’s what!!! My online dating was abruptly halted by unforeseen factors so I have no choice,” he viciously starts yanking at you tank top. “I either risk contamination or I blow a gasket and that means kaput!”

“I have allergies,” you frown and J tugs at your shorts in a hurry, irritated.

“Exposing myself like this!” he continues bickering and Y/N can’t help it:

“Just like Batsy did?”

The King gasps, appalled you twisted his near death experience vision in such a hasty manner.

“Unacceptable!” he pulls you under him and your eerie grin prompts doubt: “Hold on! Did you purchase Boinky to intrigue me and made sure I can’t blow my gasket anywhere else with the sole purpose of having me crawl back to you?!”

Y/N innocently kisses the tip of his nose, whispering:

“Gotta keep the flame going, baby.”