#I warned you

[dez-ku]

Porty 🕺🎉

🚨CW: Suggestive🚨

[oxideblack]

[theside-b]

The online comments are mixed.

FIRST NOTE OF LOVE (2024) episode 4 - Let's make music together!

[naffeclipse]

[inkedells]

dub/non-con joel x f!reader drabble? sorry if this is too much i just need some toxic asf joel rn 😵‍💫

A/N: HUGEEE CW!! intense non-con featuring joel. he says and does a lot of alarming things here. there's blood and guns and toxicity in general. last warning, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!!

mdni!!! fr guys. | requests open but replies not guaranteed.

You moaned.

And you shouldn’t have, because you didn’t want this. Or at least you thought you didn’t; You did scream when Joel removed his gun from the confines of his belt, proceeding to hold the gun to your temple as his other hand yanked your jeans down to your knees and began playing with your pussy. “Better start enjoying yourself darlin’, because I’m takin’ my sweet, sweet time.”

And you did attempt to bite his hand when it found its way to your jaw, prying it open with his fingers and gripping it like a handle. “Go ahead,” he laughed, “Try telling me to stop now.” 

And yes, you stomped on his foot the minute he decided you just made way too much fuckin’ noise and shoved you downwards until your knees buckled, hands twisting in your hair as he pushed your face against his confined dick, using your face the same way a teenage boy would fuck his mattress. “Look a’you. Reduced to my fuck toy.”

His consequent smirk made your blood boil.

But, now, with his gun in your mouth as he fucked you deep and hard and fast, you felt wetness rolling down your inner thigh, and you worried it was your arousal. He’ll know I'm enjoying myself.

You didn’t know it was your blood dripping from your pussy, an effect of his brutal pace and unrelenting desire to feel himself bulge in your belly, until Joel swiped a finger through the blood to show you before bringing it to his own mouth.

“See, baby? I’m a gentleman, I clean up the messes I leave behind.” 

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if you enjoyed please remember to like and especially reblog! it's sososo appreciated!

[small-sinclair]

Her Ruby Plains

Whumptober Day 3 and 4: Set Up for Failure and Hallucinatons 

Corrupted!Gambit x sick!reader  

Kinda prof-read. Kinda not. Let me know with you want more Corrupted!Gambit :3

“I warned you” and “You’re still alive in my head”. 

The dark purple smoke that filled Gambit’s lungs and opened a flood gate to his powers. He could feel the energy in the room and felt every type of potential each objected held. He could easily take down the light, take down this whole town with a snap of a finger! Remy just wanted to watch the world burn with one card at a time. Everything was a pawn in his chess game. He could take the Queen with just a single move from a pawn. Even if he didn’t win, the cards are always in his favor. A life lesson he learned when his powers went down the drain and spiraled out of control.  

Everything he touched, whether it be cards or exploding a charge with a car battery, he didn’t care. He’ll have all of Louisiana at his feet and in the palm of his hand. It’ll teach everyone—teach them not to mess with what’s his. He didn’t care how he made it there as long as he made sure he made a statement. His dark brown jacket worn and battered, cards be damned, and a greedy glint in his eyes was all he had to offer as he looked over the town burning below. He made this beautiful mess, this bright and lovely messed. 

Then he thought of your smile and how you would beam when he came to your little cottage on the outskirts of the swamp, just near the riverbed. There, his guard would fall and allowed your love to wrap him like a blanket. If only he could put your light into a bottle, he would take you wherever his darkness went. Looking at you with the brightness of the moon over the waters and marsh filled him with unspeakable thoughts of care and love. He didn’t love you like a partner; he loved more like a divine being. If you allowed him, the Cajun would build you and alter in the hidden parts of the swamp.  

With a twirl of his boe staff, he turned his back to the flames and headed towards your house, his home and world. As he walked, he scooped up the CVS bag of medicine. Before he burned everything down, you called him, slurring your words as you told him to get you some medicine. So, that delayed the firework show for thirty minutes because he couldn’t decide which one you needed and had to get help from someone to help. Out of kindness, he spared the CVS and the employees—just to show good on his word, he personally made sure none of his powers went to the corner of happy and healthy.  

He lit a ciggaret as he walked the path towards your home. With every step, his pace quickened until he found himself running. Inside him, something was building up that called for him to scream out in anger. Where this feeling came from was beyond him— 

“I warned ya that you’ll be too stressed over me,” he heard your voice say, replying a memory from a few days ago just as the sickness was starting. “You’ll get a headache one of these day, Gam-bees.”  

 He took his staff and charged it until it was burning a bright purple and red. He launched himself and used the charge to get him over most of the marsh. His shadow cast by the moonlight over the murky waters below. He could see all of Louisiana’s ruby plains and her beauty from this high up, and he couldn’t help be feel amazed how he could see it like this, see her in everything there was to offer. She would belong to him; she will belong to him...Louisiana waters and all.  

He landed lightly on his feet on the path leading up to your cottage. He never understood why you wanted a stone cottage out in the middle of nowhere, but he understood the honesty that came with it and the alone time. He just wished you would come to the town he's in and to the city lights, but that's not your speed. It never was your speed.

Gambit came up the steps of the wooden porch and went inside his trench coat for the key you gave him, which had a picture of 9 of Clubs on it. He takes the mail out of the mail flap on the side of the door and came into the house. He wiped his feet before heading to the back of the house to your room. As he walks pass the kitchen, he takes his coat off and hangs it on the back of a chair, gets a glass of water, and an empty bowl with a rag. If your fever hasn’t broken yet, he’ll have to help you.  

“Cher? You alive?” He called out before he came into your room. “I gotcha some medicine an’ water. Figured you...” his voice trailed when he entered your room until he was speechless. His red on black eyes filled with a glint of sadness as he looked over your shivering form. You looked so weak in his eyes, so frail and gone too far where he couldn’t follow. He didn’t turn on the lights as he entered your room. “Mon dieu, cher,” he whispers, setting the stuff on the nightstand. He place the back of his hand against your forehead. “Darlin’, you’re burnin’ faster than a gator on a spick.”  

You leaned into his cool touch, whimpering slightly. “Heya,” you managed to say, but your voice was so tired and frail that it hurt you.  

He sat close to you and brushed your sweaty hair back. “Rest, sunshine. Ya need t’get better for me, yeah?” His accent was thick and low as he spoke to you. He felt like he was telling you a secret. “Gambit brought ya some medicine an’ water. Can you sit up, cher?” He guided you to a sitting position and held you in close then resting your back against the wooden frame. “There ya are; good, very good.”  

“It hurts,” you whispered as his hand caressed your cheek. “Bones hurt.”  

“I know, I know,” he whispers. “But I’m here, mon cher. Gambit ain’t leavin’ ya tonight.” His hand left your skin and dug through the CVS bag then pulled out dark green medicine. “The lady said dis should help. Taste like shit but it works.”  

He opened the bottle and poured it in the little measuring cup. Gambit brought it up towards your lips and helped you take it. He kissed your forehead gently as a ‘thank you’ and put it aside to take the glass of water. “Slow sips, sunshine,” he whispers, guiding your hand up to your lips. “You’re doing so well, mon ami. Just need to take it slow.” He moved the glass away then kissed your forehead once more. “I warned ya ‘bout going outside without a jacket. Gets cold out here.”  

His lower hand guided you back into the bed, letting you rest under your blankets and stuffed animals.  

“...alive in my head...”  

“What’s that, darlin’?” He leaned his head down closer to you. “Gambit didn’t quite hear you.”  

“You’re still alive in my head,” you repeated. “Not gone or fighting...just being alive in my mind is enough.”  

“Sugar, I’m alive,” he reassured, letting a nervous laugh escape. “Nothin’ killed me yet.”  

“You’re really here?” His heart broke as your hand held his cheek. “Promise? No more fighting or nothing?”  

He wanted to tell you the truth, but there was this desperate look in your eyes that called him to stop, that called for peace. Gambit lets out a deep breath and nods, pushing strains of hair away from your eyes. “Yeah,” he answers. “I’m still alive and going good. Gambit promises, Cherie .” There’s honor among thieves and the honor of keeping their sunshine bright with hope. Every thief knows this, well, every good thief.  “I swear it.”  

He stayed near, sitting close to watch over you. His eyes glowed in the darkness as if it was beckoning any type of misfortune to enter your home while you rest. Born into nothing but has something to call home...that's who Remy was. Compared to your ghosts and to his, his wealth to your simpleness, your bright smile with daisy rings around your body to his poison ivy and thrones. If he had to protect your from himself, he'll do it all for you.

Everything was for you.

Ruby fields of Louisiana will belong to him one day soon, but he’ll pause that adventure for you. He’ll live a lie that your sick mind needs him to live. If you need him to be an X-Men and need him to be better than the villains, he’ll do that. If it makes you better and get over your sickness, then he’ll do it until the light leaves your eyes. Once you're gone, lungs and all, he'll rage like nothing has before. He loved you too much to admit it, and it filled his lungs with swamp water and leeches.

As you slept into the night, he found a chair and came close to your bed, holding your hand the whole night. He would sleep now and then, nodding off into the abyss, but jerked awake when you started coughing all too loud and all too long.

"I'm here," he promises, smoothing your hair every time, comforting you the same why you would. "I'm right here."

"Still alive?"

"Breathin' as if it's nothin'," he answers. He'll kiss your forehead, saying, "Go back to sleep, darlin'. Gambit ain't leavin'."

"Promise?"

"With all my cards and scars, sugar." Let you have a space in his mind. He'll let you dance freely and openly. Just say when and he'll open like a coffin in the middle of the highway: fast, loud, and eager. "With all my cards."

[kybercrystals94]

Side Effect

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 3 - Prompt: "I warned you."

Rated: G | Words: 100

“I warned you this would happen,” Crosshair growls, angered voice foiled by the gentleness with which he peels the damaged glove from Tech’s injured hand. 

“If I had not pulled the data stick out, it would have been irreparably damaged, thereby causing mission failure,” Tech returns through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the pain. 

Crosshair swears under his breath. “And what if you were irreparably damaged? You could have been killed.”

“An unfortunate side effect of being a soldier,” Tech says without remorse. “The mission always comes first.”

Crosshair’s eyes flicker up to meet his for a moment. “Wrong answer.”

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[quietlyimplode]

ignite your bones

After the fall of General Dreykov, and the remnants of the Red Room still at large, Natasha first year at SHIELD is anything but healing. Labeled a traitor and a turncoat, Natasha tries to find her footing in a strange new world.

Whumptober 2024: Day 3 - I warned you

Warnings: brief discussion of child trafficking/single line mentioning red room torture

Word Count: 1.7k (gif not mine)

Summary: Natasha is blindsided by a debrief, made to talk of her past and justify her actions.

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

The debrief room is different.

Clint looks to her in an apology as he leads her left instead of right, and stops at the door instead of following her in.

She balks at the change, halting her movements when she sees three men inside.

Looking back at Clint, a question on her lips, he just mouths he’s sorry, and nudges her inside.

She feels sick as the door bangs shut and locks.

She knows what three men in a room can do, and the advantage is not on her side.

Looking around for any weapon, all she has is the handcuffs on her wrists and maybe the long table.

The chair is bolted to the floor so that gives nothing by way of help. Maybe the fact that there’s three can work to her advantage instead of against.

She should never have trusted Clint.

He said he’d be here through it all.

He lied.

Anger and fear wells in her chest but she remains passive at the door.

“Sit,” the tallest of the three commands.

The three men stand as she’s seated and the imbalance of power feels overwhelming.

She has ways to play this.

Fight, fawn, play dumb, stay mute, let them talk.

The options play out quick in front of her.

Like a chess game, she needs to think at least three moves ahead; it’s just hard when she doesn’t know what this is about, or why there’s been a change.

“We are going to start by introducing ourselves, and then we are going to ask you some questions. After this you will return to your normal debrief. Is that understood?”

Natasha nods.

The verbal schedule of events helps to dampen the anxiety that’s building.

“My name is Director Thompson, next to me is Agent Fury and Agent Coulson.”

She remembers the latter two from her debriefs but it feels good to know their names.

The Director is new. She suspects he’s always been behind the two way mirror, just never showing his face.

He pauses.

“State your name.”

Natasha looks at the three of them.

“Natasha Romanoff.”

He nods.

“Do you remember your charges?”

Natasha doesn’t answer as the charges are read again.

Espionage, murder; it’s nothing new.

She takes the time as he’s reading, to look at the three men.

Fury hasn’t stopped watching her.

Though he has one eye patched, it’s uncanny how scrutinized she feels by the other. Coulson looks up from his notepad every now and then, writing something before looking back at her.

Thompson, however, is the one that has black eyes, suspicion and anger alternating as he reads from his notepad.

“You’ve been brought here under the protection of laws that our country has for defectors. Do you plead guilty?”

Natasha frowns.

Not willing to answer, she doesn’t move.

“How do you plead?”

Natasha considers the question.

There’s no doubt that it’s not that simple. She could say the words they want, but in a moment of compulsion, she feels herself start talking in defense.

Frustration and anger at the last month of being interrogated, of her food having ground glass, and the water being contaminated with something she couldn’t pick, of the constant debrief, and fear that battered her psyche.

“I was born into the Red Room,” she starts, staring down Thompson.

“Every day of my life, we were told who the enemy was.”

“You.”

“This.”

“Here.”

“It was beaten into us, to know that western propaganda would poison us.”

“Do you know what that’s like?”

“Do you know, what’s it’s like to leave that behind and for every day to feel like you’re betraying everything and everyone you’ve ever known?”

“I’m under no delusion, Director Thompson, that what I have done under their regime falls under terrorism, espionage or whatever you want to call it. But do you want to know what they call it?”

She lets the words hang.

“Glory.”

“Do you want to know what that gets you in the Red Room?”

She looks to Fury and Coulson.

Thompson may not understand, but for some reason she thinks they might.

“Reprieve.”

Quieter now, she leans forward.

“You fail and the world falls out. Beaten, raped, tortured, for the failure of a mission. There’s a reason they traffic women. Girls.”

She feels anger and grief swell at the vulnerability of herself and those that came before; and pauses to catch a hold of herself.

“And you do anything to make it stop. Even become the best at something you hate, so that it never happens again.”

She underestimated how much this conversation would take and immediately regrets talking in the first place.

“I didn’t fail. I can’t fail, and yes; if that means that from your point of view I am guilty for doing the things you say. But from mine, it means that I didn’t die.”

Director Thompson shuffles his paper and stands.

The room is silent.

“I do not like you, or trust you,” he starts.

His voice is neutral but there’s a note of anger.

“I think you are a liability, and I very much hate the position Barton has put us in, by bringing you in. That being said, given the information you have already conceded, the information you have promised, and your statement will be taken under advisement. But I warn you Romanoff, I am warning you, that one step, one toe out of line, and the full wrath of SHIELD and the American government will rain down on you.”

His chair bangs as he stands to leave; giving her one last look.

Fury looks to Coulson, with a slight nod, he stands, moving behind Natasha at a strange angle where she can still see him, but obscured by the camera.

She eyes them suspiciously, her heart beating audibly in her ears.

Fury is first to talk.

“He’s an asshole, but he’s not wrong. He will put you into prison if there’s ever anything that they deem as a toe out of line. You’re never going to get a fair trial and this is probably as good as it’s going to be for a while.”

Natasha stares at her hands, hating that she gave up on her own freedom for this.

She feels so angry at Clint and his kind words.

She should have just run.

The allure of the protection of America, too great in her desperation.

“But that’s not to say it’s all it’s going to be. You are a great asset to us,” Coulson continues, softening the words, and giving a small smile.

“And we want this to work. That being said, the psychiatrist reports tell us that you haven’t been talking, and the debrief reports, well, we know you’ve been holding back.”

He leaves the statement hanging.

Natasha chooses to say nothing. What is it she can say? They’re not wrong.

“As it stands, we expect more from you. Engage with the psychiatrists, do better at debrief.”

Fury waits until she meets his eyes.

The warning is clear.

“If you do, we can start to think about moving you out of the glass box.”

Natasha sighs inwardly, wondering just how much more she can give without losing herself.

The two men stand, and wait for her to do the same.

They frog march her back to the glass dungeon, Fury standing at the door, taking the handcuffs off.

“I warned you when you first came in, to not make me regret this. Do better,” he says gruffly, “and we can do more.”

Taking two steps back as she does with Clint, she watches them leave and then sits on the floor, legs crossed and things to think about.

.

Clint stands at the glass and watches her.

He waits until she looks up at him, her face unreadable.

“I’m sorry,” he starts. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know they were going to do that. I got told as we entered that they were waiting. I’ll try to make sure it doesn’t happen again… not without warning at least.”

He pushes dinner under the latch and she looks at it.

Everything is packaged.

There’s no loose foods.

Natasha frowns at the food, and she wonders if he knows.

“It seemed safer?” he confesses. “Can I come in?”

Natasha shakes her head, just slightly, but the meaning and loss of trust clear.

She doesn’t expect him to stay there.

But he does.

It shouldn’t be a shock, but it does surprise her, to have her wants respected.

Clint nods, perhaps understanding that she’s not ready to forgive him just yet.

“I’ll leave it here then. They’ve told me debrief is tomorrow at 9am, I’ll be down here at 8.30 same as always. Maybe we can have breakfast together?”

Natasha looks to the food, the prepackaged safe foods that she doesn’t have to think about.

“Yeah,” she says quietly.

“Okay.”

There’s a smile on his face, one that feels genuine.

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

He stays for a second longer and then leaves.

She waits until she hears the second beep, and then lets her breath go.

It’s been a harrowing day and she places herself back to her position on the floor.

Sitting down, she closes her eyes, ignoring the pangs of hunger that bite at her.

.

Natasha thinks it’s around midnight when the second nightmare wakes her, and she looks to the food still on the floor.

Sighing, she drinks the bottled water and eats the packaged cheese and crackers.

He can’t know that the food’s been unsafe. Unless it was him, which she doubts. Nothing has been fatal, just warnings, she thinks.

The glass in breakfast foods, the slight taste of bleach in soup broths; it’s kids games compared to what she’s used to.

Before everything became what it was in the Red Room, the older girls used to bait the younger ones. Poisoning food with laxatives, sprinkling eggshells in rice, making the water undrinkable were all ways of weakening the others, keeping them hungry and dehydrated.

An easy way to get into your opponent's psyche.

She thinks about Clint and the small kindnesses he’s shown, and as she eats the sweet chocolate bar, then of Coulson and Fury, even Maria. The four people that she’s had most contact with, have not been unkind.

What she’s unsure of is the wider compound.

She’s not sure where her food comes from, who’s watching behind the camera and who has access to her psych reports. There are too many things she does not know and does not like.

She thinks of the warnings of the day, both spoken and not.

Natasha feels stupid.

If today is anything to go by, Natasha knows she needs an ally; she’s too vulnerable in the world here for her not to.

And Clint is about as close as she’s going to get.

.

<3

[cosmicobubisi]

Cosmic's Malleyuu Whump vs Flufftober Day 3

wrongfully arrested | "I warned you" / Favorite Scent

They didn't know how they'd gotten here.

It had all been a mistake. Just someone in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Was this an error, somehow? Had they slipped through the cracks of some system, or was this a possible case of mistaken identity?

Right now, it didn't matter. No one was coming to save them. They couldn't call for help, because their phone had been kicked across the floor by their captor.

"Yuu," that very captor grumbled.

What was his intention? To rip them to shreds, devour them whole? To hold them hostage, and random them off? Yuu didn't have anything valuable, any it's not like they were worth much.

"Yuu," that rich voice rumbled again.

They didn't even know if the best move was to fight back, or let their captor have their way with them. Which move would give them the best chance at-

"Yuu."

They jumped a bit in the arms of their kidnapper.

"What?" they bit back.

"What are you thinking about?" he grumbled, straight into their neck. Malleus's breath tickled the hair on their neck.

"Oh, I was just monologing to myself," said Yuu.

Ok, maybe they did have some clue of how they'd ended up here.

Not very many, though. All they'd gotten a few days ago, aside from stood up, was a cryptic text message telling them he wasn't showing up to their usual walk tonight, and not to come by.

Yuu hadn't taken that lying down, and had insisted on having some sort of face-to-face conversation, which had caused them to head to Diasomnia.

They'd believed him to be running from their budding connection, and that had made Yuu awfully upset.

Yuu had already freaked out about it on their own, with their friends. Malleus wasn't allowed to freak out now.

Speaking of their friends, their phone rang, and Malleus gave off an unhappy groan.

"Let me grab my phone. No one ever calls me unless they're dying, or they think I'm dying."

"I warned you," he mumbled, yanking them back quite harshly.

He did. He said not to come by.

Apparently, he'd been hit with some sort of magnetism spell, and needed constant touch. He, and the rest of Diasomnia, knew he'd want Yuu first, so he'd told them not to swing by so as to not create any trouble while the spell worked its way out of his body.

When his dormmates wouldn't let Yuu see him, or even let them wait in the common area, Yuu... may have taken it more than a little personally.

Maybe they'd stomped away, and walked the perimeter of the dorm with Goodram, one of the few beastmen in Diasomnia, heckling them as they tried to look for the third year floor and then for Malleus's window.

It was almost surprising to see how much Diasomina had rallied around their dorm leader, but it also warmed Yuu's heart. They knew Malleus had expressed a lot of insecurity at his role, feeling a distance between him and his perceived subordinates, but at least Yuu knew they were for sure loyal.

Anyways, after calling for Malleus a few times, he'd ended up poking his head out of his window, and Yuu had gotten a glimpse at him. The next moment, they'd been in his room, snuggled up with him in bed, and then Malleus had explained the whole potion thing.

"C'mon," whined Yuu. "The sooner I answer, the sooner it goes quiet. Just let me let them know I live."

Malleus groaned, but summoned the phone in his hands and practically threw it into Yuu's hands. They picked up.

"Hello?" they said.

"Yuu! Are you ok? What's wrong?" It was Ace's panicked voice.

"Oh, I'm all good now! Thanks for checking in," they quickly replied.

"Yuu." They thought that tone was trouble. "You said you were arrested."

"Well," they said, "I was being detained."

"Ugh. Whatever. Call me back later."

"Bye," they said, "and I really am glad you called."

Ace didn't say anything before the phone clicked, but Yuu could basically hear his sideways smile.

"Mmmmm," said Malleus. "Finally. You know, your intoxicating scent drives me to madness."

"Yeah," said Yuu, as Malleus started nuzzling at him. "I can tell."

[idk-how-to-name-it]

Sooo I made this art-blog just to post this pics, yeaaaah...

I love @spicedmilk3's Bellini couple!!! Their designs fit perfectly in TNMN universe and they look adorable! Couldn't help myself, so I drew them(Also I hope I didn't mess up with their colour palettes)

And @t-m-o-axel's lovely fankid Buttercup with her dad

[sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine]

and what if i said (horrible smutty thought below the cut)

danny would hold sam's hair back while sam ate you out

[first-and-last-neocount]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Deadpool (Movieverse), Wolverine (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Logan | Worst Wolverine (Deadpool Movies)/Wade Wilson Characters: Logan | Worst Wolverine (Deadpool Movies), Wade Wilson Additional Tags: Nightmares, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, heavier on the hurt than the comfort this time sadly, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Trauma, Oblivious Wade Wilson, logan would really like to stop accidentally stabbing people he cares about, wade fucks up a bit in this one but he is trying So Hard guys, Pre-Relationship, Implied Past Jean Grey/Scott Summers/Logan | Worst Wolverine Series: Part 3 of Neocount's Whumptober2024, Part 3 of Won't Somebody Come Take Me Home? Summary:

Things had been going too well so far; Wade should have known it wasn’t going to stay such smooth sailing for long. He really did only mean to help. Unfortunately, the patented Wade Wilson Lack of Impulse Control has come back to bite him once again.

...

Day 3 is up! :)

[chaotic-orphan]

Whumptober No.3

Set up for Failure

Wrongfully arrested // fingerprints // “i warned you”

TWs in the extended tags

Ohhhhhhh kay, this one is really super fucking heavy? It’s really fucking dark, it’s emotional it’s very heavy, so just pre-warning to the — i did cry writing it? I don’t think I’ve ever done that so —

Do not read if you cannot handle grief and very intense pain and loss, please

*~*~*~*~*

Villain ran his hand through Vigilante’s hair who was kneeling beside his chair, every now and then catching the ends in a fist and tugging Vigilante’s head back so their eyes met with Vigilante’s throat exposed. Vigilante glared at Villain, but it’s not like he could do much with his hands cuffed in front of him.

“Are you ready for your surprise, pet?”

Vigilante just glared. Villain smiled. He loved the strong and silent types. Loved to watch them suffer even more. Make them crack, make them cry, but Vigilante? He was special. He was different.

He wanted Vigilante to speak.

Then, he wanted Vigilante to suffer.

Feel the same agony that he left Villain with.

The doors at the end of the hall opened and two Henchmen marched a half-conscious Hero in between them. Vigilante looked down, almost bored, and then, he lurched forwards. Villain tightened his hold in Vigilante’s hair until Vigilante was only able to look down his nose at Hero, eyes wide and filled with fear and Villain saw it all.

“See, darling? I told you, you’d love it.”

Hero peered ahead through bleary eyes. Their heart stuttered to a stop before life flooded their body and they ran forwards towards Vigilante.

“Vigilante?!” Hero cried, hobbling as a sob tore through their throat and the Henchmen had to yank Hero back to keep Hero between them. “You’re alive?!”

It was a heartfelt shriek, like a mother at a child’s funeral, a mix between pain that couldn’t be spoken and grief and sorrow, and a disbelieving surprise at the possibility that this could be happening to them. Why them? Why their child?

But Vigilante knew.

“Hero,” Vigilante croaked, his voice barely above a whisper. His voice sounded like shoes scuffing gravel from disuse. In all the time Villain held Vigilante prisoner, Vigilante never spoke, refused to scream or cry, became an emotionless shell of a human but seeing Hero… Vigilante forgot they could feel anything anymore.

How could— how did Villain know? They couldn’t know, Vigilante made sure to keep everything secret! That’s what he did, the last things he did before he went after Villain’s lover. He knew it was a suicide mission, but he— he protected every crumb, every minute detail about Hero, and Hero’s secret identity and their —

Hero fell to their knees, wailing. “I knew it. I knew you weren’t dead… I’ve been looking for so long,” Hero gasped and oh.

Oh.

He didn’t… Vigilante forgot the person he loved — the person who had his heart, his soul, his reason for living — was resourceful too. He was an idiot. He was such an idiot.

A breath on his cheek and Vigilante flinched. He actually flinched, shivering suddenly, desperate and he turned to look Villain in the eye, searching for any sliver of humanity left in him, but Vigilante had cut that out long ago.

Villain’s expression turned into a cold sneer, tears in his eyes as he glared down at Vigilante with the fury of a thousand gods and righteous men. Vigilante shook his head slightly, begging, silently pleading.

“Please,” he whispered. His voice like a recording of a broken man. Foreign and strange even to his own ears, he had forgotten what he sounded like, it was a shock— it would’ve been a shock if Hero hadn’t been marched in the door in chains, covered in blood.

Villain leaned in close, roughly grabbing Vigilante’s cheeks in one hand and squeezing them harshly, yanking his head towards Villain’s who was seething with a stolen hearted rage.

Every word was a dagger in Vigilante’s heart, a ripping of his chest and body and life, every syllable a death sentence, and spoken so softly, as if he was afraid he would split his larynx if he spoke above an inside voice, spittle flying, in Vigilante’s face as Villain kept his head wrenched back with his free hand in Vigilante’s hair.

They were so close their noses touched.

“I warned you,” Villain seethed. “Remember that? Remember how I begged you not to do it, Vigilante? Do you remember what you said? It had to be done.”

Vigilante dissolved into sobs. “Please, Villain. Please don’t do this. Please, please.” Vigilante pulled against the cuffs that were hooked to his ankles but he couldn’t move in any real way like this. He couldn’t defend Hero. He couldn’t get to Hero and even if he could he wouldn’t be able to stop Villain in his vengeance.

“Do you remember when I said those exact words to you?” Villain whispered, agony creasing every muscle in his face. “See how much comfort they bring you. You have nobody to blame but yourself, and trust me when I say: you will blame yourself.”

Villain slammed Vigilante back so he fell onto his side and he screamed: “WAIT!” Then a desperate: “HERO RUN!”

Vigilante righted himself, throwing himself forward, the small chain between his wrists and ankles pulled taut but he launched himself forwards, desperate and clawing and crying.

“Villain PLEASE! PLEASE DON’T DO THIS, Please! Hero, Hero! HERO I’M SORRY! Please don’t, please oh god, please!”

Hero seemed like they were already cast in the glow of heaven’s light, ethereal, serene, had Vigilante ever appreciated their beauty enough? The small dimple that appeared in their left cheek when they smiled, even now when their cheeks were flooded with tears, glistening, their eyes crinkled as they found Vigilante’s.

“I won’t die,” Hero told Vigilante softly, as he scrambled forward shaking his head. Don’t say those words. Don’t say those words! A soft breath as the henchmen released Hero’s arms. “I won’t die, my love, because you have my heart. You always have.”

“Hero— Hero, I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you run please, please, Villain. Let them go,” Vigilante wailed, desperation fuelling his movements, as he grunted between sobs, they were so close. Hero was so close if he wasn’t chained he could reach out and grab them and shield them with his body.

Villain appeared behind Hero, a hand on their hair pulling their head back. “You have my he—”

Hero choked on the words as Villain sliced a blade across their throat. Vigilante flinched as blood spurted and sprayed Vigilante as the carotid was sliced through.

Vigilante who was reaching for Hero, arms out as Hero fell, convulsing on the way down and Vigilante pressed his hands to the wound.

“Hero! Hero! HERO! HERO!” Vigilante cried, trying to staunch the bleeding with their shirt, their hands but the blood kept pooling and the stench of iron filled their nose, their mouth, their body. “Oh god, oh god, oh god Hero, no. No, no! NO! Hero— please, stay with me. Don’t leave me here. Take your heart. Take your heart I can’t— I don’t want it if you’re not here with me, Hero. Hero.”

Vigilante’s hands gripped Hero’s cheeks, trying to keep their eyes open. “Hero look at me, look at me baby, please.”

He was sta— his— the blood, oh god he was staining Hero’s face, their beautiful face and the more he tried to wipe it away the more the blood smeared and it was still pooling and spilling from the wound and Hero was dead. Hero was dead. Hero was dead and he was staining their face—

Hero.

Vigilante hunched over Hero’s body, sobs wracking through him like earthquakes, shattering every bone, every nerve, every source of light in his being.

A hand settled on his back. Vigilante stiffened, grabbing hold of Hero and not letting go. “You know,” Villain said, sniffing himself. “I’m happy Hero had your heart, Vigilante. It’s satisfying. It’s like killing you twice.”

“Kill me,” Vigilante whispered, no, begged, wailed, pleaded. It was all the same now. All this opaque too full emptiness that permeated his body, leaving an absence between his lungs, under his skin, in all the empty space that Hero filled. “Kill me too, please.”

The hand patted his back.

“Oh, no, Vigilante. You and I— we’re not meant to die young. We carry the weight of our past, no. Only the good die, and we’re too wicked to be taken yet. Trust me,” Villain said hollowly. “I’ve already tried to end my grief, but I won’t give you the chance.”

Villain leaned in closer, his hand going to the back of Vigilante’s neck and squeezing it. “You will live with your guilt until the gods decide it’s your time.”

[uncontrol-freak]

shrinefucking

[vbecker10]

Loki's Silent Sentry (alt. ending Part 1)

Part 2

This is meant to be read after part 2, instead of the original parts 3 - 7

**Seriously please do not read this without reading the trigger warnings**

TW: fire, life threatening injury, blood, death of a main character (if you message me I will tell you who in case that will change if you read this or not), mourning the loss of a loved one, loss of a family member, having to mourn in secret, depression, feeling alone, brief mentions of previous loss of parents, inability to move on, guilt

(Please let me know if I missed anything and I will add it)

A/N: I wrote the fluffy, happy ending for this story but I got this song (tagged below) stuck in my head and it felt like a really tragic way to end this story. The idea just kept getting more depressing and heartbreaking so I had to write it. I understand this is not for everyone, it's not even something I would usually read.

Please, please do not feel the need to read this because we are mutuals or because you read the happy ending version. I will absolutely not be offended if you skip it.

...Last chance to turn back lol 🫣

You close your eyes as he pulls you tighter to him, you are sure he can feel your heart pounding in your chest. "Are you really here?" you ask in a whisper. You fear he will vanish like one of his illusions the second you let go of him.

"I'm here my love," he reassures you. He kisses the top of your head and you look up at him. "Follow me," he says in a low voice.

You smile and nod, telling him, "You know I will follow you anywhere."

He takes your hand and leads you into the room he came out of. You can see he has been busy with his magic, his abilities have always thrilled and impressed you. The magically altered office is twice as large inside as it should be and is an exact replica of his chambers. You look around in awe and can't help but wonder if this isn't an illusion but one of his transportation spells.

He smiles with pride at your reaction and puts his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him again.

"How did you do all of this?" you ask. "Its amazing... you're amazing," you tell him as you turn in his arms to face him.

"I'm afraid the young corporal spent has a large portion of her time this week dutifully guarding my empty office," he jokes and you laugh with him.

He smiles and kisses you, his hands traveling up and down the back of your thin shirt as he hold you close. "Stay here with me tonight," he says between kisses. He doesn't say it as a prince ordering his sentry but you obey his request without a second thought.

It is almost five months since your new Sunday night routine with Loki began. He would slip through the palace with ease after he dismissed his sentry for the night and you would take a left at the top of the stairs after his mother released you.

While hidden away, surrounded by his illusion, the two of you could pretend everything was perfect. You love him with all of your heart and he loves you back just as fiercely. He would kiss you and hold you and tell you that you were his but the moment the sun came up, everything would change. You always did your best to hold back your emotions as you put your armor on and returned to your silent duties.

It devastated you every time you needed to leave him but you kept your pain to yourself. You were afraid to ruin the small window of time you had with wishes and false hope that things could somehow be different.

You stand silently outside of the queen's office and let the smallest smile slip when you notice Loki coming down the hall. He offers you a brief smirk in return as he comes to a stop in front of you.

"Lieutenant Y/L/N, is my mother in a meeting?" he asks you.

"No, your highness," you respond, shaking your head slightly.

"I would like to speak with her for a moment," he tells you and you nod.

After knocking on the door, you wait for her to open it then step out of Loki's way. As he passes you, he carefully slips a folded piece of paper into your palm and you close it quickly. He goes inside, pausing for barely a moment to lock eyes with you before closing the door behind him.

You return to your position next to her door and tuck away the note for later, Loki's sentry stands at attention on the other side. You glance over at him quickly, you recognize him but can't recall his name. He had only graduated the academy a month ago, he was far too new to be guarding someone of Loki's standing but that was precisely why he had been selected. Loki had taken to choosing soldiers with limited experience and often replaced them every few weeks. He said he did this so they were less likely to notice he was slipping away to visit you but you joked that it was because he would never be able to find a sentry to fill your place.

The door opens fifteen minutes later and both the queen and Loki step out into the hall. She closes the door behind her and says, "Prince Loki is going to visit the blacksmith and I've decided to get some fresh air and go with him."

You and Loki's sentry nod to acknowledge the plan. You both follow mother and son down several hallways and winding staircases until you finally reach the steps leading to the courtyard. As you step out into the sun, you take a deep breath and close your eyes for a quick moment. The palace air could be stale at times and you always welcomed a chance to spend even a few minutes during the week outside.

Its almost a twenty minute walk to the blacksmiths, past the stables and a well used for the horses. The apprentice steps out of the one story wooden structure to pick up a few cords of wood that are stacked neatly out front. He opens the door and yells something to the man inside, presumably that the queen and prince are coming. He opens the door and bows his head as they walk past to enter, you smile at him a bit to hopefully help ease the young boy's nerves.

The blacksmith bows to Loki and the queen as they enter and the boy shuts the door once you are all inside. You can't help but look around, you've never been in here before but Loki had told you about his frequent visits. You can feel the heat from the tall fires of the forge off to your left and the breeze that flows through the open windows at the far end of the building. Large timber rafters line the steeply pitched roof and a small rainbow shines onto the sawdust covered floor, caused by the colored glass in the door.

Your attention is drawn back to Loki, as it always is when he is near. He begins talking to the older man, the apprentice's father you assume due to how similar they look. They discuss the knives Loki had previously ordered, a set of two daggers with black leather handles and gold inlays in the shape of a coiled snake. You try not to smile at how obviously Loki his request is.

Your focus shifts to the apprentice, he can't be older than nine or ten you think. He takes something from his father and brings it to the office space in the back then returns with a wooden box containing different types of metal to select from. The queen joins in the conversation with her son and Loki's sentry leans against the wall near an open window, staring off into the forest beyond.

You keep your eye on the boy, watching him run from one errand to the next for his father. He brings things to him and is waved off to find something else, only to do it again. In between helping gather the materials, he continues to feed the forge. He has added at least four logs since you arrived, surly that was plenty to keep the fire raging, you think but truthfully you know little about blade work and forging swords.

Several more minutes pass, Loki and his mother are deeply engaged in conversation with the blacksmith who has easily convinced Loki to get a second set of knives. His sentry has disappeared into his own little world while you continue to observe everyone quietly as you stand near the door.

You stretch a bit and cover your mouth as a yawn slips free, you should really stop reading until the sun comes up, you scold yourself. Suddenly you stand up straighter and sniff the air again, breathing deeply. You can't quite place the smell but the heat from the forge has gotten stronger. Your eyes immediately find the boy who is frozen with fear as he looks into the fire.

Blue flames erupt from the metal and stone enclosure of the forge.

Without thinking, you move to the young boy and grab him by the arm, pulling him away from the rapidly growing flames. Once his feet start moving, you push him in the direction of the door and look for the queen. As soon as your gaze is away from the forge you hear metal grinding and a loud crack as the chimney buckles under the sudden and immense increase in temperature.

You look back to see the fire spark and spit embers onto the sawdust spread over the floor. Walking backwards from the forge, your eyes move up as the fire spreads to the roof of the structure. Smoke quickly begins to fill the air and your eyes sting as you fight to keep them open. You watch in horror as one of the rafters on the ceiling splinters from the flames and you run towards the queen, you know the building won't be standing much longer.

You keep your arm around her waist until you've guided her safety outside. She takes a few steps away from you and sits heavily on the grass, coughing from the smoke. You look back towards the burning building, the roof already partially collapsed as the trusses are destroyed by the flames.

Smoke billows out of the open door and you quickly turn to count that everyone is out. The queen, the blacksmith, his son, Loki's sentry... but not Loki.

"Loki!" you scream, scanning the field in front of you in the hopes that you somehow missed him. You rush to his sentry who is on his hands and knees coughing and gasping for fresh air. "Where is he!?" you demand.

He shakes his head and doesn't respond, you grab his arm and pull forcefully, making him look up at you. You can see the fearful tears in his eyes but his feelings are not your concern, not while Loki is still missing. "Private, where is the prince?!"

"I don't know," he cries. "I just- I just ran- I don't-" you let go of his arm and turn from him, unable to listen to his excuses.

You look back to the fully engulfed building and without a moments hesitation, you run through the open door.

"Loki!" you call for him, you cough painfully as you inhale the ash and smoke. You crouch and shield your eyes as the glass in one of the windows near you shatters. "Loki!" you scream as loud as your lungs will allow. You move forward, towards where he had been when you last saw him with his mother.

You cough harder as the flames surround you and you get low to crawl under the ever thickening smoke. "Loki!" you scream again, your heart racing as tears stream down your cheeks, making it harder to see.

"Y/N," you hear Loki faintly over the crackling of the fire and get up to run towards his voice.

Your heart pounds in your chest when you see him, trapped under part of a collapsed beam. He struggles to lift the large piece of wood, it's edges blackened by the flames growing closer. You grab the end of the beam nearest to Loki and lift while he pushes, it moves but not enough. Your grip slips and he screams in pain from the sudden movement. Your eyes fix on the blood that slowly starts to gather at the corners of his mouth, adjusting your grip you get ready to try again.

Before you and Loki can make a second attempt, a nearby section of the roof collapses. You instinctively use your own body as protection against the falling debris shielding his face and upper body, you hold back a cry as ash falls onto the exposed skin on the back of your neck.

"Y/N, please get out of here," he tells you, his voice hoarse when you sit up.

You shake your head no and tell him, "I won't leave without. Help me lift this."

Again, he pushes with what little strength he has left and you pull with every bit of strength you can gather. The beam moves enough that you can free him. You grab Loki under his arms and pull, he cries out every inch until he is fully clear of the beam. It devastates you to cause him pain but you have no choice. You wipe your tears on your arm and without letting go of him, you tell him you are sorry but you can't stop. You know if you do, neither of you will make it out.

You lay Loki on the grass behind the burning building, ignoring the sound of a wall giving way and kneel next to him. His fingers are dripping with blood as he reaches for you.

"Y/N," he says softly but you shake your head and avoid his gaze. You are too scared to look at him, you know he wants to tell you goodbye.

"I need to stop the bleeding," you say with as much determination and hope as you can force. You move to check his chest wounds and your heart shatters, your mind spins in shock and disbelief as you rip open the rest of his torn and bloody shirt. "No no no," you mumble to yourself in denial.

You move your hands to his chest in desperation, trying to cover the largest break in his skin but his fingers close softly around your wrist, keeping you from touching his wounds. Looking into his eyes, in a gentle tone he simply says, "Stop." His grip on your wrist loosens but you can't accept that there is nothing you can do for him.

You shake your head no again, "Please Loki..."

He tries his best to smile but the blood in his mouth makes him cough violently. You move so you can gently rest his head on your lap and you run your fingers through his hair damp. He raises his hand again to stroke your cheek and you close your eyes at his touch.

"Y/N," he says just above a whisper and you lean closer to hear him. "I knew you would come for me," he coughs and spits out a bit of blood. "You always followed me..." his voice trails off.

You smile through your tears and tell him, "I will follow you anywhere, I promised you that I would."

He continues to slowly stroke your cheek, wiping away your tears but leaving a light trail of his blood, "I'm sorry my love, but where I go now you cannot follow."

"No, Loki please," you cry, "I love you."

"I will always love you Y/N, more than anything in the nine realms," he says softly as his breath grows still and shallow.

"Stay with me," you plead, taking his hand in yours. "You're all I have left. Please stay with me," you beg him. "I love you. Please don't go, Loki, please."

His fingers slip from yours and you look down at his lifeless body, your chest tightens as you struggle to breath. You feel as if your heart is physically breaking, the pain is unbearable and consuming. "I'm so sorry Loki," you apologize over and over. "I was supposed to protect you, I should have protected you. I'm sorry, please."

"Loki! Loki!" the queen's voice rips through your grief and guilt as the rest of the building collapses, the fire still raging. You look up and see Frigga running towards her son, her eyes full of fear which turns to anguish as they met yours.

Getting up, you walk slowly backwards, your body on autopilot as you distance yourself from mother and son. She let's out an agonizing scream, a sound you will never forget, as she falls to her knees next to her youngest son. She cradles him in her arms and kisses his forehead, whispering to him as she rocks slowly.

You stand motionless a few feet from Loki's body and his mother, your breathing becoming more ragged as your chest tightens. You barely register the dozen or so workers who struggle to keep the fire from spreading across the field or the soldiers running with Thor.

"Mother! Loki!" Thor calls as he sprints around what is left of the building, desperately searching for his family. He gets closer and stops suddenly when he sees his younger brother laying in his mother's arms.

Frigga looks over her shoulder and Thor begins to slowly walk towards her, you can do nothing but watch his expression change as the reality of what he is seeing hits him. As he gets closer, she looks back down at Loki, wiping away some of the blood from his face gently. Thor kneels besides her, his hand on her back and she quietly says, "Loki is gone."

Your knees buckle at her words and you collapse onto the grass. You cover your face with your hands as your body shakes violently from the force of your sobs.

Loki is gone, your thoughts echo the queen's words. Loki is gone and it is your fault, your guilt adds. Loki is gone and you couldn't save him. Loki is gone but he shouldn't be. Loki is gone but you were supposed to give your life for his. Loki is gone.

You stand at attention in the center of the throne room in front of the royal family, the council and every high ranking officer from the royal guard. You keep your eyes straight ahead, focusing on a small detail on the wall beyond Odin as he speaks. You are too afraid to look anywhere else but slowly your focus drifts to the queen and where Loki used to stand.

She holds Thor's arm for support, her gaze fixed to the marble floor beneath her. Your chest aches at the sight of the queen in her black mourning gown and you hate yourself for wishing you could wear one as well.

This morning, every soldier in the royal guard was given a thin black piece of fabric to tie around their arm in memory of the lost prince. For five minutes, you struggled to tie it properly before a fellow sentry finally offered to help you. The members of your unit and palace staff no longer made mocking comments about the favoritism Loki showed for you but they would never understand the depth of your grief.

As a sentry, it was against protocol for you to show any emotion while on duty and that was especially true in your case. As far as the king and council were concerned, you meant nothing to Loki and it was made clear to you yesterday that you were not to mourn for him publicly. A part of you didn't care, what could they do to punish you that was worse then the hell you were currently living in. You didn't have the strength to disobey the king, however, it took every ounce of strength you had to simply get out of bed each morning. So here you stand, surrounded by nearly a hundred people, trying with all your might to keep from falling completely and utterly apart.

Frigga slowly looks up and your breath catches when you see the tears in her eyes. She doesn't seem to see you though, it is almost as if she is looking through you, her mind unfocused on the ceremony taking place.

You force yourself to pay attention to Odin as he continues his speech about what is being called "a tragic accident". The phrase sounds like nails scrapped across metal to you and you brace yourself so as not to shiver every time you hear it.

You were still not sure what exactly caused the fire to burn uncontrollably but it was quickly determined that the boy meant no one harm. He and his father had been cleared by the council of any wrong doing and were granted a small sum to rebuild their forge. You wish the boy well and hope he isn't being plagued by nightmares as you are.

Loki's sentry, however, is to be sentenced this afternoon. The day after the fire, he was brought up on numerous charges and subsequently dishonorably discharged from the royal guard. You had stood as a witness at his hearing, forced to recount every detail of that horrific day.

You hear Odin droning on but your mind can't seem to absorb what he is saying. You continue to watch him though, knowing it's almost time for you to play the part of the noble hero.

He gestures for you to step forward and you follow his command, kneeling when you are just a few steps from him. He walks towards you and says, "Lieutenant Y/L/N, you are being awarded the Medal of Royal Protection for your actions during the tragic accident three days ago. This honor is bestowed upon sentries who have risked their lives to save, and attempt to save, a member of the royal family. Thanks to your bravery, my wife, Asgard's queen was escorted to safety."

He pauses, his eyes finding Frigga before he turns back to the crowd of soldiers and council members gathered around you. "We are all heartbroken over the loss of Prince Loki. My son's life was woefully cut short... far too short," his voice trails off for a moment and you think he may let his emotions show but he clears his throatand continues. "But that does not overshadow your extraordinary act of heroism. You risked your life by going into a burning building and in doing so, you have given us the chance to say goodbye to Prince Loki properly, which is what he deserves."

Your throat feels like it is closing, your eyes sting as you fight desperately to keep the gathering tears from slipping free. Your head pounds as you prepare to receive a medal for saving the queen but not saving Loki.

"Lieutenant Y/L/N," he motions for you to stand. He takes a round golden medal with a red ribbon from a council member and pins it to your dress uniform. "Asgard and I thank you for your continued commitment to protecting and serving the royal family," he says and you feel nauseated by the applause that spreads through the throne room.

This is the song that inspired me, if you listen to the end you will see why. Again... I'm sorry to everyone who reads this that I hurt you but I just needed to get this story out of my head. If you want the happy ending version please read the original part 3 (linked at the top) 💙💙

If you did like this, please like, comment and share! Thanks! 💚💚

@siconetribal @soubi001 @lulubelle814 @newtomofgods

[sukoshininja]

Fogged Windows

Keith came as soon as he heard.

He squinted in the darkness, looking for the entrance. The snowfall wasn't making it any easier, the headlights in his old truck flickering. He spotted a blue sign with white "H" and an arrow. He veered right and drove as quick as he dared to the last open parking spot, wheels crunching the snow that had been piling up. Apparently Thursday nights were a popping time. Worst park job of his life, he slammed the door and tripped over the snow in his converse, soaking them. He barely gave it a thought as he jogged to the sliding doors of the building entrance.

The lady at the desk looked like she hadn't had a wink of sleep in a week. He told her who he was here for and after a consulting her computer her face grew somber. She explained as delicately as she could that Lance was in critical condition.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Keith asked, desperately.

She gave him a sad smile. "The doctors will do everything they can. It's their job."

Right. He knew that they weren't supposed to make promises one way or the other. A nurse had explained to him the whys back when Shiro had lost his arm. But the lack of reassurance was killing him.

"Can I see him?"

"At this time only one family member is permitted at a time."

Right. He knew that too was standard for critical care. Back then, he had lied through his teeth and said that he and Shiro were brothers. Luckily, the hospital staff took one look at him and allowed him through. Nevermind that he was Korean and Shiro was Japanese. He didn't think the same trick would work with Lance.

"Down the hall, there is a waiting room. There's a Keurig. The doctors will give you updates when they can," she said, clearly reciting a line she repeated multiple times a day. She still managed to say it kindly.

Keith gave her a curt nod and followed the hall where she directed.

He heard it before he saw it. It was packed. Given that everyone all shared similar features, he guessed they were family. Given that everyone all had brown skin and blue eyes, he guessed they were Lance's.

He had never met Lance's family. But Lance often talked about how large his family was. Keith had wondered what it was like, to have so many people care about you.

He stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking for an empty seat he could disappear into when a familiar voice spoke behind him.

"Oh, you're here."

He turned to find Hunk, double fisting energy drinks. He offered one to Keith.

Keith shook his head. "Caffeine makes me anxious."

Hunk hugged him.

Keith hugged him back.

"Hunk! So good of you to come," someone said behind him.

"Of course, Mrs. McClain. How is he?" Hunk asked, releasing Keith to turn to a middle-aged woman. She was strikingly beautiful. Of course she was, she must be Lance's mom.

Her teary face contorted with worry. "Bad. He wasn't wearing his seatbelt. Went through the windshield."

Of course he fucking wasn't. No matter how Keith nagged, the idiot never remembered to buckle up until Keith reminded him. He had warned him that one day he would die in a car accident, bleeding out in the street like some isekai protagonist. Lance had laughed as he kissed him and said it was good that Keith was there for him then.

"I'm so sorry," Mrs. McClain extended her hand to him. "Who are you?"

Keith took her hand. It was soft, despite the calluses on her fingertips. "I'm Keith. I'm his—" he faltered, catching himself, "...friend."

Lance wasn't out to his family. It never really bothered Keith. Family stuff. It's not like he knew what that was like. But right now it hurt not being able to claim how important her son was to him. Not when things were like this.

She gave him a warm smile, the lines at the corner of her eyes crinkling deeper. "Ah, you must be the one from college. He talks about you."

"That better be for me," Pidge says as they plucked an energy drink from Hunk's hand. "Hey, Mrs. M. Any news?"

She shook her head sadly.

A girl made a beeline for Keith, taking his arm and pulling him into the far corner, away from the majority of the crowd, her eyes sharp behind her glasses.

"You're his boyfriend, aren't you?" she whispered.

"Uh," Keith looked over to Hunk for any sort of sign. He had no idea who this girl was, but Hunk had known Lance since middle school.

"Leave Keith alone, Ronnie." Hunk warned as he weaved his way over to them, lowering his voice. "This isn't the 'met the family' we could have hoped for."

She gave Keith an appraising look. "He's always been a sucker for the pretty ones."

Hunk chuckled in agreement.

"I thought...no one was supposed to know," Keith reeled. Had Lance lied? Why? Did he not want to introduce Keith to his family?

"Oh, don't panic. He never said anything, not to me anyway, but I have fucking eyes," she flipped her bob. "So, do you like him?"

"What?" The directness of the question threw him off.

"Do you like him? Lance throws himself into these things body and soul and sometimes he misses the signs because he's so focused on his own feelings. So if you are just playing with him know that I. Will. Destroy. You." Her eyes were fierce. Keith could feel himself shrinking in on himself from the intensity of her glare.

"Relax, V. Keith was crushing on him way before Lance even noticed his emo ass. It was kind of pathetic really," Pidge said, slinging their arm around Keith. They were quite a bit shorter, and it looked rather awkward.

"Watching them get together gave me cavities," Hunk affirmed.

"I'm Veronica. His big sister," she held out her hand.

He took it. "Keith. Canidate for Lance’s future husband."

Veronica pulled his hand towards her, pulling him in for a hug.

"Positively nauseating," Pidge rolled their eyes.

Veronica held fast and a little too tightly. She was not letting go. "Welcome to the family, Keith," she whispered low enough that only he could hear.

"Hello, McClains?" a woman in a white jacket stepped into the room. "I am afraid I have some heavy news."

* * *

Keith walks out into the cold. But he doesn't feel it. Just like he can't feel his soggy socks or his burning eyes. He's numb to any and all physical sensations. Somehow he finds himself in the cab of his truck. He doesn’t remember getting there. He doesn't know how long he sat there before coming to.

A thin sheet of ice had formed on the windshield. Or maybe his sight is just really blurry. No, that is definitely ice.

The truck starts. His hand is on the key in the ignition. As if his body is on autopilot, moving separately from him. The defroster kicks on and he watches as the ice slowly begins to melt.

He is startled by something moving at his neck. A bead of sweat? It is rather warm in here, he realizes. How long had he been sitting here? No. Not sweat. He touches his face, fingers cold against his cheeks, and it comes away wet. Tears.

Was he crying? Didn't seem possible. You had to feel something to cry. He was just empty. Hollow. A body with no pilot.

The ice melted. The windows fogging up from the heat.

And that's when he saw it.

Fingerprints.

Fingerprints in the windows. It makes him so fucking mad how Lance does — did — that. Drawing on the windows with his finger when he was bored.

The passenger window displays a rather wonky representation of what Keith assumes is supposed to be a dog.

A smily face looks back at him from the review mirror.

And in front of him, on the windshield is a simple scrawled message:

i ♡ u

Something in him breaks. The pieces as sharp and cutting as his cries as he struggles to breathe around his sobs.

Lance is gone.

Lance, the embodiment of sunshine and life, a representation of everything good in this world, no more.

It wasn't right. It couldn't be.

Nothing would ever be right again.

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