#either staying and enduring all the shit he does anyway

[ickypuppi3]

franz kafka // billy & steve

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

I really REALLY like your locorro Hunger Games au I can’t stop thinking about it 247 I’m so obsessed i dreamed about it my head in the clouds every seconds!! So i have to personally write to you here cuz it just BLOWS my mind like????✨💞✨ my god you made me want to watch hunger games again.

Btw i was thinking of another idea, what if spider and lo’ak are from different districts? Like complete strangers with connected history(their dads)?? I don’t know, maybe Spider could be from d12 and Peeta-coded. while Lo’ak from either d1,2 who, like your idea, was trained especially for the games by his fam?? Or vice versa?? And they met in the games and the history between their dads almost repeated? I imagine Quaritch a peacekeeper who may accidentally killed Neteyam(for angsty, his team did out of his order) And Jake(former victor) almost got his remaining kids killed by attacking Q? With this beef Spider and Lo’ak met in the game, i think Lo’ak would try to avenge his bro and the boy is wild(with his blicky esp lol) but Spider who is Peeta-coded doesn’t have a single bad bone. Imagine the irony when Lo’ak injured himself and the ONLY one who actually help him is his enemy. Or so he thought.

In the end Spider and Lo’ak become Katniss and Peeta and survived both??? I’m a happy ending kinda guy so I can’t handle one of them die when they started to get along well. Anyways! What’s your take? This just some thoughts I wanna share<3

AHHH I'm so so glad you liked it so much!! I get caught with certain au's playing in my head 24/7 all the time, to have inspired that is so exciting.

OH UR VOTING FOR CAREER LO'AK or Spider, I'm intrigued. I personally vibe much more with the Sully's being from district twelve. District twelve is pretty racially coded, and Katniss herself is supposed to be indigenous. The vibe of her having been trained naturally for the games with skills she learned and honed from being part of her culture just for survival fits so well with Avatar that I really can't part from it. That's why I love that idea of Jake and Neytiri planning and training the kids; I can't see them not doing that.

So I would lean career Spider. One of the most interesting parts of The Hunger Games is the careers, and the fact that even as the villains in the first movie and book, you quickly grow to see them as the victims they are. Katniss hates the careers up until she sees Cato's reaction to Clove's death, and she realizes that Cato and Clove were kids with feelings who were forced into this just like her. That Cato and Clove might have been hoping to somehow live together just like her and Peeta. The career districts are just setting their kids up for the best chance to live, and pitting the districts against each other is the best way for those in power to stay in power. SO, I think career Spider would be a fun idea (as much as I prefer when the kids all grow up together).

Spider's been pushed to be the best possible career he could his entire life. Quaritch, out of an abundance of fear for his kid but also knowing what is gained if his kid wins, makes like a 24/7 hell for Spider. Training does not stop when he leaves the facilities, no, Quaritch keeps it up at home. Never a second of peace. I think Spider is a naturally empathetic person, but watching the Games keeps him that way. He sees the kids he trained with die year after year, and instead of hardening him it makes him sad. He does not enjoy hurting people, and takes more naturally to the physical strength and endurance parts of his training. He's not really sure what else he'd even be of use for, he doesn't have any friends and his dad sucks, and his life is really pretty shit, so he figures he'll volunteer and make sure at least one other person doesn't have to go die that year.

Totally Lo'ak wouldn't trust him as far as he could throw him, which is not that far at all because Spider'd be tall as fuck and all muscle if he's been trained 24/7 by QUARTICH his entire life. So, Spider's fucking around the arena just vibing. He probably had to kill a person or two at the cornucopia and he was Not happy about it, but he kept that shit pretty visible because his dad says sponsors in one and two would hate a pussy and now he can actively spite his dead because he'll never see him again so who cares. He just kind of mentally breaks and experiences every single emotion he's never had before like, all the time. He's free for the first time in his life so he's just kind of enjoying himself even if it's in a death area, he doesn't know how to turn it off.

Unfortunately, letting himself be free and feel emotions comes with emotional growth and learning that is really really misplaced. He runs into Lo'ak by a stream and just freezes as he comes to the realization he's gay and attracted to that kid across the stream. He is processing this, mouth open staring at Lo'ak, when Lo'ak tries to shoot him in the face with an arrow. He only misses because he gets knifed in the back by another career who thinks Spider is all team career but comes to realize Spider would rather explore suddenly being gay then let someone who'd stab someone from behind live.

Cue the Peeta and Katniss injury healing in the cave bonding shit. Lo'ak is VERY mouthy and rude for someone who's life now depends on Spider, but that's fine. Once he decides Spider didn't save him for any shady reasons, Lo'ak becomes a pretty good bestie. He has extensive plant and forest knowledge that Spider soaks up like a sponge. Lo'ak tells him about his family, his life, and gets SPider to talk about himself and what he likes (nothing, he doesn't know, he has two things on the list; tree climbing and men). Eventually, one night while they stargaze in a tree Lo'ak showed Spider how to climb, unsocialized freak Spider tells Lo'ak he'll go kill the others in the area and then come back and let Lo'ak kill him so he can be the victor and get back to his family. He says this all matter of factly like he's telling him something they both already knew. Lo'ak fREAKS OUT and they have a big fight that results in them splitting up for the night.

Spider is distracted by losing his first friend, his first gay boyfriend (jokes lol), and doesn't notice anyone sneaking up on him until much too late. Lo'ak saves him from gettin' fULLY bludgeoned at the last second, he just got a nasty smack on the head. Lo'ak informs him it's really rude to die for people, and that Lo'ak wants him around and would like him to live. He argues if Spider has nothing going for him, neither does Lo'ak. He's the fuck up child. So Lo'ak talks him into their death pact that results in their double victory.

It's a beautiful idea and I love it. I hope this did it for you again, anon, lol.

Oh, and I'm 1000% sure if he lived Neteyam referred to Lo'ak's life being saved by his INSANE RIZZ all the time. And Neytiri and Jake were oBSESSED with Spider, who wanted to literally die for their son on national propoganda TV. They are his biggest fans, they love him more than Lo'ak sometimes it seems.

[bardicbeetle]

Character Rambles - Jesse Addison (part 1? Probably?)

I've been doing some little book-bible exercises so here is some background on Jesse. From long before the events of SitD. Mild content warnings for homophobia and the f-slur and the use of Queer as a slur. And also for the vague implication of emotional abuse.

The thing about Jesse Addison is that he lives for other people for the longest time.

He’s a well off kid from a wealthy family, he is intelligent and determined and he’s going to go to medical school (he’s known this since he was ten) and he’s going to make his parents proud of him and he’s going to be the best goddamn big brother you’ve ever seen. Sure his parents are strict but that’s just because they have high expectations, his father is busy running for governor again, his mother is the lead editor for the biggest paper in town (which to be fair isn’t huge but it’s nothing to sneeze at).

Sure, Jesse works too hard to have friends, that’s fine, his English teacher is close enough.

Sure, he’s slowly crumbling under the realization that all of the choices he’s ever made aren’t really his own.

Yes, he spends a little too much time sitting between the eaves on the roof outside his bedroom window.

But he hasn’t fallen off it in years, and what’s a few broken ribs in the long run anyways.

His mother calls him Bird and reads every story he puts under her nose with a mix of well placed praise and plenty of criticism. His father doesn’t have much time for either of his children but does give the occasional appreciative nod at his grades and choice of extracurriculars (“We won’t tell him about the writing workshop Bird—I’ll take care of it.”) Always makes time during those godawful boring dinners with all the city council members and their children to talk about how bright Jesse is, about how far he’s going to go—

—It’s nice.

Sarah treats him like a superhero.

He swears he spends more time watching her than the nanny does.

He doesn’t mind.

Jesse likes giving people something to be proud of. Maybe that’s why it takes so long to realize how fucking miserable he is. How lonely.

He writes more. Writes more than anything else. His grades slip—not enough to be bad, but enough that they are no longer celebrated. For a time, he thinks this is better. If he can slip under the radar, if he can coast through until school is done, if he can plan out a convincing enough argument for avoiding medical school, for—

—it won’t happen.

Charlie is the first friend he makes in high school, in junior year.

Charlie is also the only friend he makes in high school.

Charlie is the one who whispers that they should steal one of his father’s bottles of bourbon and watch the sun rise from the roof.

Charlie is the one who tells everyone and anyone who will listen that Jesse tried to kiss him.

He didn’t.

Wanted to.

But didn’t.

Never would have.

Nobody really seems to think that matters coming from him. Including his parents when the whispers and the bruises and the screamed words finally make it back to them after months of silent endurance. Neither of them had questioned his sudden disposition towards clumsiness, he blamed it on staying up late hours studying, said he was too tired, tripped over things, depth perception had him walking into doorframes and countertops. He figured he could hide it well enough. He’s not a fighter, he’s a deflector, he’s a let-the-blow-ring-out and walk away. Fighting would make it worse. Fighting would give the idea he’s got something worth hiding.

But there’s only so much shit he can take. And it’s when he starts fighting back that the stories make it home. When he starts taking the hurlings of faggot and queer with a smile and putting the inheritance of his mother’s sharp tongue to work. When words stop being words and turn into fists—

It’s Charlie again.

The thing that breaks it.

An eye for a nose is a fair trade, Jesse thinks.

He doesn’t go through the front door that day when he gets home. Climbs over the fence and crawls through Sarah’s bedroom window. Hears the argument his parents are having before it’s ever meant to reach him. Maybe… maybe another time would have been easier, better, less. But it’s campaign season. There will be no fighting back. There will be no goodbyes. There will be plenty of shouting. There will be the packing of a bag and the barely successful attempt not to cry until he’s out of their sight, earshot, and house.

Jesse Addison finishes his junior year of high school sleeping on his middle school english teacher’s couch, promptly drops out to get his GED, and doesn’t look back. Mr. Silas is more than happy to write him any reference he needs, offers to try and talk to his family which Jesse refuses point blank every time he brings it up.

By the time summer is waning, Jesse is working on enrollment at Berkeley.

If he’s going to leave, then he’s doing it right.

@cjjameswriting / @falling-rivers / @maabonwrites / @blve0 / @inexorableblob / @blueberrypoptart / @betwixtofficial / @drowsy-quill / @ezwriting / @ofinscriptions / @vaguelyhumanekid / @meatandboneasmr / @h-faith-marr-writeblr / @necros-writings / @poetinprose / @flyingbananasaur / @oldestenemy / @multi-lefaiye / @dotr-rose-love / @abalonetea / @albatris / @incandescent-creativity / @kaiusvnoir /

[hoghtastic]

What was actually agreed upon why he canceled the fan convention? He's just now flying to New York and seemed to have a lot of free time in Copenhagen. He did a small thing for Isaac Productions but that didn’t seem too time consuming either.

I'm curious whether Johanne will fly to him and whether he will stay there until his birthday. The script doesn't look particularly thick, I don't mean that in a shady way, it just appears that way. For me, Alex has an extreme problem with being alone and since Johanne is obsessive and loves the new opportunities and attention from him anyway, I can hardly imagine them staying apart for longer than two weeks or that Johanne would waste the opportunity to post New York Instagram content and make new connections. I would like to thank our admin for all the work she’s doing. I mean every single day you’re replying and reacting to asks, that’s actually work and it’s not like Alex deserves promotion anymore. It truly feels like you’re doing this for „us“.

Everything we discuss here doesn't matter anyway. It's really like a round of girls shit chat. Alex does what he wants anyway and that's what he should do. Johanne is a psychopath who gets what she wants anyway and sometimes it helps to endure this misery if you can laugh at this nonsense.

Alex communicated to us over many years that he had a certain mentality that we identified with. That's why we remained loyal supporters of him, it wasn't just his appearance. To the fans who say you have to separate him from his girlfriend and that it should only be about him, I have to say that doesn't work. Because Johanne symbolizes exactly the mentality that some of us may see as the exact opposite of what he communicated to us for many years. In addition, the couple-content is overwhelming anyway. She has completely taken over him. So you can no longer support him without having to support them too and it’s not like we had any acting we could enjoy of him.

I see this blog like an outlet to point out their bullshit because no one else is doing it. I also can't imagine that many of us will stay if he proposes to her or she gets pregnant, because then Johanne will feel so safe that Alex won’t leave her that she will market every aspect of their private life in an influencer way on Instagram and I don't want to see that, I'm not into that same old whole influencer "my past ist sad but my world is so perfect now" crap. And now let me show you these earrings. Tag tag tag.

Hello, dear anon! 😊 Thank you so much for taking the time to share your thoughts on these matters! In my opinion, you made a lot of valid points and explained the current state of the fandom perfectly!

As for your initial questions, nothing was ever confirmed, but it surely seemed like he cancelled the convention to spend time with Johanne — considering she also cancelled her show for the same day and her understudy took her place, and they later posted about having a date night. Even if the events were unrelated, their timing to post about such date on social media surely didn't do them any favors. 😅Regarding Johanne joining him in NY and staying with him until his birthday, I think it's unlikely, because she'll be busy with Askepot until June 9th, and the most free days she will get between shows are 3 days. But who knows? Maybe she'll visit him on one of these occasions? 🤷‍♀️ We shall wait and see. 😊

Last but not least, thank you so much for your kind words!!! 🥰 And for understanding what this blog is truly about — a place for "girls talk", uncensored and fun. It wouldn't be what it is without all your thoughts, opinions & jokes, so it has been my pleasure to be here with all of you! 💖

[sexyleon]

PLS TELL ME HEADCANONS

I HAVE SO MANY THERE ARE SO MANY!!!!! I'm going to use this ask to talk about what I think happened in the immediate aftermath of Resi 4 tho!!

Okay, first, I don't think Ashley's rescue was covert at all! Leon doesn't just get to jetski to a designated landing spot and fly off into the sunset without the Spanish government getting involved and causing an international incident BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE TOO EASY. It's a very public affair, and while Leon is protected and never really reaches the limelight, Ashley has to publicly defend herself and her father in a media shit show (my zine piece in @relentlesszine is about Ashley coping with this!)

Anyways, after the initial confusion/chaos of American/Spanish officials struggling to find a solution on what to do, Leon and Ashley are rushed to a Spanish hospital once it has been confirmed they were infected by an unknown parasite. They're both in shock, but Leon takes it upon himself to endure the brunt of it: the interrogations, the questionnaires, the stressful explain what happened parts. He's still in fight-or-flight mode, and his only goal is to protect Ashley in any way he can. Eventually, they're to be separated and put into isolation chambers where they will have no contact with the outside world until they've been completely assessed by a team of doctors. Leon doesn't take this well. It's too familiar, it reminds him of when they took Sherry, and he'll be damned if he lets the same thing happen to Ashley. He adamantly refuses until they allow him into the same ward as Ashley (he's not violent about it because he's very aware of the situation they're both in, but he's not exactly nice about it either-- he's not going to let Ashley from his sight until she's in her father's arms). They wind up in separate rooms next to each other.

The ward is the hardest part for Leon. The doctors won't just let Leon stay by Ashley's side since he needs to be evaluated too. They make him lie down, force needles into his arms, take care of him-- which he thinks is a waste of time. They need to focus on Ashley.

He can't sleep. He wants to go home. He wants to take Ashley home. He wants to be anywhere but in this hellhole of a hospital. Every time he closes his eyes it's a different flashback. The villagers, innocent people turned monsters-- people he had to kill, people he lost count of killing. Luis and Mike, watching good people, his friends, die. Ada...God, he doesn't understand why he keeps going back to her. He doesn't understand why he trusted her. Dying is better than dealing with this. He wishes he could ask for morphine, but it'll just be another chance for someone or something to hurt Ashley.

This is how Ashley finds him, sneaking away from her room one night after being repetitively told they can't visit each other. He sits up from his cot when he realises she's there, all the worry in his face turning to relief. He wants nothing more than her safety and happiness.

“Ashley?”

“Sorry Leon, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

He gestures for her to come closer, offering space at the end of his cot for her to sit. They stay like that for a little while, the silence washing over them with the unspoken knowledge of what they'd been through. Leon does not mind the companionship, but can't help to feel guilty about everything that had happened. If he was better, maybe they'd already be home.

“I.... I want to thank you.”

Leon knows he should acknowledge it, he knows he should respond with grace, but the sinking feeling in his heart deepens. He doesn't deserve her thanks. He could've, he should've done better.

He settles on a “don’t mention it” with a wave of his hand, no big deal. He hopes it is enough, he doesn't want to think anymore. He can't look her in the eyes.

“Leon, I—"

“I said don’t.”

It comes out firmer than he means it, and when he looks up at Ashley to apologise it's too late. She’s already crying, ugly sobs filling the room as she gets up to leave.

“I’m sorry I’m such a burden! You should have left me to DIE!" are the only words he gets before she leaves.

Leon feels awful, and he's so so angry. It's not her fault for being kidnapped. It's her fault for being used to control her father. It's not her fault only one man with no info and little help was sent to save her. It's not her fault a sick man destroyed the lives of hundreds of people. None of it was her fault, but he knows nothing he can say right now will change her mind. So he lets her be and lies back down with his nightmares.

Later, after the doctors have done their rounds, he sneaks out to find her. She’s curled up on her cot, the vision of a young girl who has gone through hell. He knows the feeling, he remembers it well.

“Go away.” 

“Ashley, I just want to talk,” his voice is soft, resigned.

She hesitates before stretching out a little and sitting up, patting the cot next to her with a tiny "okay."

Leon sits down, the silence once again enveloping them as he works up the courage to speak. The words feel thick in his throat. He never expected to be here again, having this conversation again. It's all a little too much, but he knows it's his responsibility.

“Well?!” Ashley snaps at him. He flinches and looks down at his lap. She's angry too, he figures. Angry, sad, and scared.

“I guess I deserved that,” he frowns, nodding to himself. She's about to say something else when he cuts her off, “Look. I’m sorry for how I spoke to you earlier." Good. An apology is a good start. "We went through a lot. It's a lot," he pauses, the full weight of what has happened on his shoulders, "But we’re here now...Together, and I wouldn’t have it any other way."

It's then that he looks up at her, all the earnestness in his eyes. “You’re not a burden. Without you, we wouldn’t have made it-- I wouldn't have made it." He reaches for her hand, pulling her up so that she can look into his eyes. "None of this is your fault. Krauser and Salazar and Saddler did this, not you," he pauses for a moment, all the emotion welling up in him..

"I am happy you're alive.”

---

LSDJLKSDJFLKSDJLFJS anyways this ended up turning a little fic-ish?????? SORRY lksfjlsjfdslf this is how i think it happened tho and it lives in my mind rent free lsdfjlskdfjlsdfj

Leon loves Ashley the way he loves Sherry and they are trauma bonded for LYFE. He's been through what she's going through and he wants nothing more than to take all the pain away and give her a normal life, the only things he wishes for himself

@thebisexualmandalorian

[blaqueswanzaghouliishiilikeda]

How do you think the show would’ve been different if Lestat made Lily and Louis vampires?

hmm is this in lieu of claudia or annie? I personally cant see Lily not leaving. she was too obsevant to stay in my opinion. she picked up on things like loustats attraction to one another right away and read between the lines. “you’re his destiny louis” reads that way to me as well as her trying to keep the peace and make her money you know? She was aware that she was in between them as a buffer. im sure louis isnt the only john she’s dealt with hiding/denying what they really want and coming to a swer to fill that need in whatever way—in louis case being able to just talk freely making him more palatable to her, but still.

i like to think she would have got that power and left like claudia wanted and she would have been able to bc she presented as an adult in a way claudia couldnt. maybe louis and her would have caught up to each other later. i actually think if lestat presented her with the option she would have said yes and he wouldnt need to make the choice dubcon. tho idk if that can be avoided since it seems they cant help but be violent about presenting the option. i think the reality would have been a traumatic adjustment as it is for all of them, but i think she would have endured quite well. now if it was forced on her i think she would leave sooner rather than later after she learned what she could from them. but she wouldnt have been stuck with them and just like louis letting claudia leave, he would have let miss lily leave. and shes not dependent on either of them for survival the same way claudia is. also i dont think lestat would force her to stay bc as an adult woman she really does pose the threat he’s irrationally afraid of in claudia. not that it would change louis’ stance he gay. but i digress.

i think she would have to leave eventually bc irt to lestat, sharing louis with her would have put lily in danger. thats why he killed her so swiftly. no, louis cant even have someone he pays to confide in over him. he has to come to lestat yk? and the fact that lily had to be there for the first night to lure louis in all the way would begin to eat at him. like “why did it take her for you to give me a chance, you’re in love with her” type thing.

i think their mess is something she wouldn’t wanna put up with anyways she’s seen it all. swer are in a position where men tell them the worst of things about the relationships they’re sneaking around and cheating on and to have to be eternally stuck in between that shit for free? hell nah. in my head canon if she gets turned she leaves bc the alternative is her death and i wanna know she out there using vampirism to her full advantage and here in the modern age in a nice condo after a long successful career as a top model. maybe she would have been a refuge louis ran to. he would go back to lestat but just that possibility is why she died in the first place. the way she connects to louis in ways lestat doesnt. her blackness being a key component. i dont know that her undead life would automatically be easy. she is a black woman so all the things that come with that would still be true, but she’s a swer. i feel like she would be resourceful in a way say ……Grace!…might not be able to bc of how her circumstances are different. miss lily didnt have a choice but to be resourceful. Grace grew up affluent and taken care of you know it would be different. thats not a dig at grace just an observation. and that’s not to make it absolute that Grace wouldnt figure it out. i just see her being more dependent for a lot longer and that would pose an issue…you did not ask me about grace lmao moving on.

i think lets say she got away and annie still happened and claudia still was roped into this. louis is forthcoming with her in ways lestat isnt (he has his reasons. dont come at me i know). so i think if she’s asking about other vampires and the only other one louis knows is miss lily he would tell her about her. claudia would fixate on her. she would go looking for her. a mother a companion who understands her in a way she cant be understood at home. one who knows loustat and what it is to be in between them. i think she would go out and find her. and i can see lily being receptive to that. i think this would alter the tragedy of claudia’s story the most. so idk if annie would be needed for that long. she might actually have seen that incinerator a lot sooner. bc claudia would be with lily and i think louis would have been good to at least know where she is. lestat might not have needed to die but then it would just be loustat to face all their issues and idk if lestat would see a reason to adjust and change if he was never plotted agaisnt and left to feed off rats in the junkyard after having his throat slit. that would change the trajectory of the whole last half of iwtv. hmm yeah soo many things would be different. what would get him to paris to meet armand? (no loumand 🥺)i think eventually theyd end up meeting sure there isnt many vamps. then how would loumaniel/armaniel come to be?? it could still happen [i say desperately] but yeah so many things would change now that i really think about it.

[gaeilgeoirgay]

Whumptober 2022

Day Six

TW- Strangulation and torture

obviously inhuman

Jason was already having a shit day before he was kidnapped. First of all, the hot water in his apartment broke. Second of all, the tax office finally figured out he’s alive, and have started sending him letters. Jason doesn’t do letters. Third of all, patrol was so mind-numbingly boring yet somehow incredibly busy that he was half tempted to fake an old injury and just go back to bed.

All of this leads up to the position he’s in right now. Tied up in a shitty warehouse with his brother.

One of them anyways.

“Do you even have bones? B taught me how to get out of restraints too, and that just looks excessive.” Jason asks in horrified interest as Dick contorts himself to slip out of his chains. He’s not having much luck so far but Jason has faith. No mere metal could contain something so obviously inhuman as Dick Grayson’s flexibility.

“I do have bones, I’ve broken enough of them. It’s not about the bones, though, it’s the muscles.” Dick says sagely. He’s upside down now, and Jason cant actually tell which leg is which, they’re so twisted.

“Really now. Nope, you’re definitely a meta.” Jason says, as Dick tries another position. He’s ninety percent sure that one is from the Kama Sutra, but hey, if it gets Dick out, he’ll take it.

“Nah, B checked. I checked myself as well, and honestly, it’s just training.” Dick replies, tongue poking out as he concentrates.

The door of the warehouse (and why is it always a warehouse? Bruce should just buy all the warehouses in Gotham, he’s certainly rich enough for it) slams open and two people walk in, a man and a woman. They’re similar, the same hair and eyes, so Jason is pretty sure they’re siblings. Yay. The sibling kidnappers are always the most sadistic.

“Nightwing, Red Hood, it’s a pleasure to meet you both. You may call my brother and I, John and Kate.” The woman says and Jason groans internally. Sometimes he hates being right.

Also, aliases from the Bender family? Lame. If Jason were to name himself and Dick as a criminal duo, it would be Edgar and Edmund, from King Lear. Much more refined.

“Can’t say the same, Kate. Why did you kidnap us?” Dick says, right side up. He’d flipped back to standing as soon as the door started to move.

“You see, we’d heard rumour that the Bat vigilantes of Gotham were related! We decided to watch you all, and we noticed that you and the Red Hood share a unique bond amongst your siblings. The eldest brothers, the protectors. We want to see what happens when you break the eldest.” Kate says and Jason stiffens.

This could go two ways. They could assume Jason is the eldest, because of his height, or they could correctly pick Dick as his older brother. Either way, one of them is getting tortured tonight.

But… Dick is self sacrificing to his core. If they pick Jason as the eldest, he will reveal himself as the older brother. Fuck.

“Now, Nightwing, that would be you, of course.” John speaks up, smiling genuinely at Dick. Jesus, these people.

Jason ignores the small twinge of relief that they got it right, because he doesn’t want to ever live with the guilt of knowing Dick sacrificed himself for him. This way, it isn’t Jason’s fault.

They both stay silent but John’s grin only widens.

“Perfect. Nightwing, we are going to torture you. After a set amount of time, a video will be left at the Batsignal for your family to track. The quicker they find you, the less torture you endure. Does that make sense?” John says cheerfully. Jason can’t wait until he gets his guns back.

“It does. But why have Hood here? You can let him go, he doesn’t need to see this.” Dick says, jaw set.

“He does! You see, it’s the sibling relationship we’re interested in. I couldn’t care less if your family never finds the two of you, but we’re giving them a sporting chance. I want to see Red Hood’s reactions when we hurt you. We need more data for our experiments!” Kate explains, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice.

More data? They’ve done this before? Dick’s clearly noticed the wording and Jason doubles down on his resolve to shoot their captors. He doesn’t give a single solitary fuck what Bruce will think.

“Now, to get started!” John says, still fucking smiling, and Jason snarls at him.

“I am going to introduce you to the business end of my gun if you touch him.” He growls, voice dark and threatening. Batman would be proud, really.

John ignores him and opens the briefcase he’d brought into the room with him. It’s full of torture implements and Jason can’t suppress his fear at the sight of them. They’re meticulously clean but John wields them like they’ve been used before, and now he’s going to use them on Dick.

Dick closes his eyes as John approaches and stays silent, sinking into himself. Jason can almost see him compartmentalise, locking his mind away so he doesn’t have to deal with the reality of their situation.

But Jason can’t do that. Not while Dick is facing torture, while a madman takes a knife to his stomach.

John slices down Dick’s abdomen, red blood welling up in the knife’s wake. Dick doesn’t make a sound. John cuts again and again, and this time Jason is making the sound for him, threatening the living daylights out of the siblings.

He knows, he knows that this is what John and Kate want, but he doesn’t care.

They’ll be dead soon if he has anything to say about it.

Kate looks disappointed by Dick’s lack of reaction and John notices. He steps back and sets the knife to the side, cocking his head to take in Dick’s hanging body.

“What do you think?” He asks Kate and she hums in consideration.

“Hood has had good reactions so far. I want to see what he does when Nightwing is in audible pain.” She orders and John nods, picking out a coiled whip from his briefcase.

Jason goes wild when that appears, increasingly bloody threats falling from his mouth.

The crack of the whip silences him as it soars through the air, before it snaps across Dick’s spine. His back arches but he makes no sound. Jason is impressed despite himself, that Dick is taking this without comment, denying Kate her reactions.

The whips cracks again and again, and blood is pooling below Dick now, but he still doesn’t speak.

Kate is growing steadily and steadily angrier at his lack of reaction and she eventually snaps.

”Take the damn video to the Signal. When you return, Nightwing dies.” She says harshly and John nods. He had apparently been recording the whole time and he leaves quickly, disappearing from the warehouse.

Kate stalks forward, grabbing a length of rope from the briefcase. She smiles cruelly as she comes closer to Dick and Jason suddenly realises what she’s planning.

The family should be here before John gets back, if they’ve been keeping true to the timeline Jason has in his head.

Ten minutes for Dick and Jason to miss check in, standard five minute waiting period, five minutes to check their various trackers, half an hour for Oracle to find their position through street cameras, Kate and John having presumably dumped the trackers. Then depending on where they are, anywhere between five and twenty minutes to find them.

He would err on the side of twenty minutes, because he and Dick have been here for the better part of an hour, so they should be close.

Kate winds the rope around Dick’s neck and he still says nothing. Jason decides to follow his lead for once and keeps his mouth shut in the hopes that Kate will temporarily turn her attention to him. He can stall for time then, and the family would arrive before she could actually kill Dick.

Kate doesn’t seem particularly strong, but the rope gives her leverage. When she pulls it tight, Dick lets out the first sound he’s made since they started, choking immediately. He gasps for air and Kate finally seems satisfied.

She lets go after a minute or two, to let Dick catch his breath, before she pulls the rope taut again.

And again and again, Dick gasping every time. Jason swears viciously at her, vowing his revenge. John still isn’t back and Jason finally sees the quick flash of a cape in the rafters.

Batman drops down a second later and Kate goes sprawling, unconscious from one blow.

Bruce immediately undoes the rope and pulls out a small bolt cutter to deal with the chains.

Behind him, someone breaks Jason’s chains and he nods in thanks to Damian as they clatter to the floor.

“Is Wing alright?” He asks anxiously and Dick smiles at him, somehow still awake.

“I’ll be fine, Little Wing. I’ll be fine.”

[freeddead]

〝   @multi-lefaiye​   ⟶   ❛  Laura, Max, and Kaitlyn for the Quarry asks!!  ❜

LAURA: would your muse put themselves at risk to protect the ones that they love ? are they obedient in the face of authority or more rebellious ?

Gerry would definitely put himself at risk in order to protect his loved ones tbh, to a downright stupid degree.  He tends to believe that everyone is more important than him, anyway, that everybody has more of a place / right to be here than he does, so he is very much on that self-sacrificial bullshit, viewing his own death as no great loss to the world at large.

Plus, he’s already died before, and as he puts it: “Dying’s not so bad, it’s staying dead that sucks.”  If he has to endure death again to make sure that somebody else avoids it, well, that’s not a problem for him.

As for authority, it does depend entirely on the authority.  With police officers and other “official” forms of authority, he tends to err on the side of being highly rebellious and not listening to a word they say.  He’s got no real respect for the police in any capacity, and a lot of his entire… [vague hand gesture] existence involves him operating outside of… any governance, for whatever it’s worth.

Like, he was framed by his mother’s murder by his mother and is assumed to have “faked” his death.  And even what he was doing in his first go at life, hunting down Leitners and other Entity-related shit, often saw him breaking the law for the sake of that. So, no, he doesn’t really like cops, and likewise, they don’t like him, ha!  There are still a lot of people on the London police force, now that he’s back, who think that he really did kill his mom and that it being a mistrial was complete bullshit.  So, he does what he can to avoid interactions with cops, knowing that there are plenty who are just like, “Give me a reason! 🔫”

However, when it comes to authoritative women outside of the realm of ‘official’ authorities, Gerry has a hard time saying ‘no’ because—something, something—mommy issues.  He is getting much better at it in recent times, at recognizing when people are trying to use him and pushing back against it, making some effort to defend himself.  But he still runs on an instinct to make himself small and quiet whenever a woman enters the room and clearly wants to take charge of a situation.

Trauma puts one hell of a damper on his would-be rebel image, whoops—

MAX: does your muse have a positive or negative outlook in life ? do they tend to ignore certain instructions or are they a perfectionist ?

I would say that Gerry typically tries to have a more positive outlook on life, the keyword being tries.  Certainly, when he was younger, or before his death, he was much more given to pessimism and negativity, not seeing any way out of the holes in which he found himself.  It kind of seemed like once he was out of one, he would slip right back into another, such as getting rid of Mary only to be picked up by Gertrude, who had plans to blow him up pretty much as soon as she met him.

Now that he has a second chance at life and a friend who doesn’t want to use him for everything he’s worth, though, he tries to look on the bright side of things, yeah!  He is doing his best to enjoy life as it comes to him, for the first time in ever, and he is not perfect at it all the time.  He is a work-in-progress, but he’s getting there, dammit!

And he has always genuinely believed that most people are innately good and worth saving.  Not all of his Leitner burning was out of spite for his mother.  So, there is that.

As for instructions, Gerry doesn’t ignore them so much as he just forgets them.  (Three cheers for 25+ years of undiagnosed ADHD!)  He certainly doesn’t intend to get sloppy with his work (although I wouldn’t say that he sets out specifically to be a perfectionist, either), he just tends not to do well with certain tasks unless he is given reminders about them.

His tendency towards forgetfulness caused a lot of problems with both his mother and Gertrude, who berated him for it incessantly.  As a result, Gerry has a lot of problems wherein he doubts his own intelligence and believes himself to be “just stupid” sometimes, instead of… y’know… undiagnosed neurodivergent.  Sighs.

KAITLYN: does your muse considers themselves a leader ? would they easily step into that position in a crisis ?

Gerry absolutely does not consider himself to be a leader.  While he is capable of going off and doing shit on his own, whenever there is a person that he feels comfortable deferring to, he usually does.  He considers himself to be absolutely abysmal at carving out his own path.  He’s a follower more than anything, first with his mother, and then with Gertrude, and most recently with Jon.  Jon is trying to get him to… not… follow him around so much, to middling results lmao

As for stepping in during a crisis, absolutely.  In fact, that is kind of all that Gerry ever does.  He sees somebody about to Get Got by one of the Entities and takes it upon himself to step in.  He understands by now that he will never be able to save absolutely everyone, but if he can help even a little bit, then yeah, he wants to.

〔  the quarry  〕  〢  accepting .

[malleux]

spell [2]. | corpse husband

part one ; part three

-> Pairing: Corpse Husband x Fem!Reader

-> Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

-> Warnings: Hate Comments, Self Doubt, Anxiety, Cursing

-> A/N: thank you for 1k notes on part one! i’m so glad everyone likes my work. it’s really nice getting this much love after taking a hiatus on my fire emblem writing blog. i hope y’all enjoy it and stay on the lookout for part three!

corpse husband taglist is closed!

Two weeks.

It’s been two weeks since you joined Sean’s Among Us stream.

While that was your first public appearance, you had joined three others after that and already you were blowing up on almost every social media platform you had. The attention was kind of nice, you had to admit, but sometimes the anxiety of becoming a public figure weighed heavily on your shoulders.

During that time, you turned to your friends who were used to such scrutiny: Sean, Felix, and now Corpse, who you’ve been talking to every day for those two weeks.

It was another one of those nights where, at 1am, you were on Facetime with said man. His screen was dark, as usual. He hadn’t shown his face yet and you respected that. You didn’t need to see him to talk to him, or be his friend, or develop a slight crush on him. All of which you did.

The call was relatively silent on your end. Corpse was on Facetime with you, yes, but he was also on a call in Discord, once again playing Among Us.

You often wondered if playing that game was all your new friends did anymore.

You stayed quiet, letting Corpse play the game and avoiding his fans finding out about your call. You had college work to finish anyways, so the silence was rather helpful.

“We should ask Y/N if she wants to play. I wanna meet her.” Sykkuno’s voice rang out from the Discord call. He was right- you’d never met him. He and Corpse seemed extremely close, though, so you’d love to talk to him. A friend of your crush friend was a friend of yours.

“She’s busy tonight.” Corpse responded.

“Yeah, she’s got an exam coming up- wait, how do you know?” Sean joined in, questioning Corpse.

“Uh, I mean we’re on Facetime right now, I guess.” Your heart sped up- now his fans knew. “She’s studying. We’re just hanging out.”

“Didn’t you guys ‘hang out’ last night as well? It seems like you’re trying to take my best friend away from me.” Sean joked back.

“I mean, I definitely am.”

Your breath caught in your throat. What was that supposed to mean? Sean was obviously kidding, but the tone in Corpse’s voice wasn’t the one he used when he was joking as well.

Felix suddenly butted in. “Ooooh, I think Corpse-y has a little crush.”

“And if I do?”

Y/N.exe has stopped working.

꧁꧂

Three weeks, now, that you’ve been talking to Corpse daily.

One week since Corpse’s crush comment and one week that you’ve endured countless mentions and tags on Instagram and Twitter, constantly talking about #CorpseY/N.

You didn’t really mind the shipping, often losing yourself in daydreams about driving those two hours down from your apartment in Los Angeles down to San Diego and running into his arms. It didn’t help when he mentioned wanting you to come visit one day.

You just worried about how Corpse felt about them. He was still relatively new to blowing up on the internet as well, his fame suddenly skyrocketing in the past few months, so you weren’t sure if he was comfortable with them. You didn’t want to bring it up, either, fearing that the discussion would make things awkward between the two of you.

For now, you were rather content with just scrolling through the #CorpseY/N hashtag, looking at the pictures and nice things people had to say about you both.

“they’re so cute when they talk to each other, you can just tell Corpse meant it when he said he was trying to steal Y/N away.”

“#CorpseY/N is my new favorite thing. Everyone shut up this is all I’ll be talking about from now on.”

“God why can’t they just be together already? #CorpseY/N”

Everyone was so supportive and sweet, it almost made you feel like you already were Corpse’s girlfriend. Although your heart hurt when you were brought back to reality, you couldn’t help but love the comments that everyone left. They were amazing.

Until they weren’t.

There are always two sides of the same coin. Along from the supporters and their loving actions, there were also those who seethed at the idea of you and Corpse.

They scrutinized everything about you to the point that you made your Instagram account- already with 30k followers- private.

Haters talked about you. Your body, your personality, how you weren’t worthy to even talk to Corpse and the rest of the Youtubers, and so much more. You’ve spent many nights with your Facetime mic muted so that Corpse couldn’t hear the small sobs coming from you.

These thoughts were almost always on the back of your mind, but you were sometimes able to push them away.

Like now- as you focused on your exam. Well, tried to focus. There comes to be a time where one can only hear so many negative things about themselves before they can’t ignore it anymore.

But alas, you tried your hardest and finished your exam, before walking out of the room and pulling out your phone. Now, you had a break before your new classes started and you’ve never been more relieved. You pulled up a certain contact and clicked on the message icon, beginning to type.

you:

i’m finished! up next, a break.

corpse:

I hope you did well. How long is your break?

you:

two weeks!

corpse:

Come spend it in San Diego

You stopped in your tracks, taken aback by the offer. You really didn’t think that he’d invite you over, but you weren’t about to complain. Instead, you sent back an ‘I’ll pack tonight :)’ and rushed home to do just that.

Corpse called you as you packed, just like he calls every night. You were used to the routine now, often falling asleep around 3am as he stays on the phone, doing whatever he does with his ruined sleep schedule until you wake up and say good morning.

Tonight, however, you were too jittery to sleep. You stayed up all night with Corpse, talking about anything and everything, like usual.

What wasn’t usual, though, was how distracted he sounded. It made you nervous- was he having second thoughts about inviting you over? Was something wrong?

Your thoughts nearly overwhelmed you, forcing you to say something.

“Are you okay, Corpse?” You tried to hide the small shake in your voice.

“Hm? Uh, yeah, yeah, everything’s good. Why?”

“It doesn’t sound like it. What’s going on? You’re acting off.”

His side of the phone was silent for a moment, before he let out a sigh. “I’m just thinking about what I’ve got to do before you get here tomorrow. Like, cleaning and stuff.”

“Pshh, that doesn’t matter to me.” You waved your hand, even though he couldn’t see it in the darkness of your room.

“It’s just that, my apartment isn’t… the best. It’s small and there’s only one bedroom and it’s kind of shitty. I just don’t want it to be even more shitty.”

“Corpse, I’m coming there to spend time with you, not your apartment. I don’t care what any of that shit looks like. I’m going to be looking at you and hanging out with you. Not your apartment.” You didn’t mean to go on a tangent of reassurance, but you truly meant all of your words. “Hell, I might not even see the apartment because I already know I won’t be able to look away from you.”

“I- God, give me a minute. That took me off guard.” He laughed. “But thank you. I may not even be able to clean because I’ll be distracted too.”

“By what?”

“You, standing in front of me, in person.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “That’s a fucking dream come true.”

┎┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┒

taglist: @namjoons-crabssss @lookingforaplacetosleep @teenloves @princess00wifi @pillowjj @nvm-idgaf @creativedogs @wildflowerwhore @chillininahottub-withaghost @whyisquill @holosexualunicorn7000 @ourheavenlyemotions

┖┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┚

[dragonmuse]

@russetm said: ngl, this could work great as a 5 things style ficlet. 

(Well if you insist... this is five times Izzy or Lucius used their safewords for the first times in different ways. Does contain discussion of consensual violence gone temporarily wrong. everyone is fine and they talk about it) 

​​The first time it happened while they were being intimate, the word almost caught in Izzy’s throat. It wasn’t that bad, he reasoned. Lucius wasn’t even touching him. They were several feet apart. But the words ‘wring you out’ just started to ring badly in his head. The memory it triggered wasn’t even specific, just creeping over skin pulling at a string of them. He could endure it. They could get through it…but. Izzy had never had to ‘get through’ sex with Lucius before. The concept alone made it all feel worse.

“No.” He said and tensed, waiting for Lucius’ disappointment or anger. 

“Oh, shit, okay,” Lucius froze. “Come on, then.” 

He offered both his hands to Izzy and he took them, letting Lucius tug him up off the floor. They were in the living room, but relocated without discussion to the bedroom. The lights were off there and they sat side by side in the dark. 

“Can I touch you?” 

“Yeah.” 

He wrapped his arms around Izzy’s shoulders. 

“Can you tell me what triggered it? So I don’t do it again? Was it-“ 

“The words,” Izzy said quickly. He didn’t want to hear whatever guesses Lucius came up with. “It’s...Da…shit.” 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Lucius assured him. “I just need to know which ones.” 

“The ‘wring you out’ thing,” he closed his eyes. It was so much easier if he couldn’t see him. 

“Okay,” Lucius rubbed his arm. “Okay. Hey, I’m like…really proud of you, actually.” 

“Yeah?” Izzy blinked. “Why?” 

“I was worried you wouldn’t use it, honestly. Or you’d wait until things were really really bad. I’ve been trying to watch like a hawk because of that.”

“Told you I would,” he grumbled though he could admit it was a reasonable thought. 

“You did,” Lucius conceded and kissed his temple. “Good job.” 

“Uh huh,” that wiped away most of the remaining gritty feeling. “Can we still…” 

“If you want to,” Lucius said with some surprise. “Maybe a little more vanilla though.” 

Izzy considered that, then nodded reluctantly. Probably for the best. 

****

“Red,” Lucius said as Izzy’s head snapped back. 

It took a second for it to penetrate Izzy’s haze, but Lucius could see the second that it did. Regret ran over his face, but was quickly shoved behind his blandest mask. 

“Okay, pup,” he said softly. There was quite the red splotch already rising over his cheek. “You go on. I’m right behind you.” 

Lucius retreated guiltily. He shouldn’t just run away when he ran into his limits, but there was something about staying in bed when he got that churning sensation in his gut that would not stand. The blanket, always waiting on the couch, got pulled up and over him. What he should do, he told himself, was go take care of Izzy. Izzy, who he had just punched for fuck’s sake. If either of them should be upset, it shouldn’t be Lucius.  But…Izzy had clearly still been into it and Lucius had warned him it was very very yellow for him. Well, it’d be red now that was for sure. 

“Drink this,” Izzy said roughly, holding out a mug. 

“What is it?” Lucius took it anyway, the heat seeping into his palms. 

“Decaf.” 

“Are you mad at me?” Lucius frowned at the brown liquid. “Is this a punishment?” 

“You’ll have a hard enough time sleeping now,” Izzy shrugged. “You don’t need caffeine, but heat’ll help. I put a piece of chocolate at the bottom.” 

“Why?” Lucius took a sip. 

“You’ll see,” Izzy headed back to the kitchen, leaving Lucius to sip at the milky warm cup of coffee. The decaf was no as good as Izzy’s usual high octane brew, but the heat did feel good. 

A few minutes later, Izzy was back and he had a small plate of crackers anointed with cream cheese and a dollop of jam.  

“Is this your solution to no nut butter?” Lucius accepted the plate. 

“One of them.” Izzy did not sit next to him. Instead he grabbed his pillow, put it on the floor and knelt down next to Lucius. He didn’t rest his head on his knee like he usually would, just folded his arms on the couch and put his chin on top of them. 

Lucius popped one in his mouth. It was definitely not peanut butter and jelly, but it was good in a similar way, the salty with the sweet. He took another sip of coffee. 

“I don’t think I want to punch anyone. Ever.” 

“Yeah,” Izzy said softly. “That’s fine. I’ll do it for you.” 

“Great. Don’t punch yourself.” 

“Big ask, but I think I can manage,” Izzy gazed up at him with a faint smile. “Sorry, pup. Shouldn’t have even asked you to do that. Maybe got to figure out what yellow really means for you, huh?” 

“….fuck,” Lucius groaned. “You’re right. I think I went about it a little off kilter.” 

“You’re better at figuring out this stuff for me than yourself,” Izzy observed. He seemed utterly calm about all this.

“Who knew you’d be the one better at figuring out your limits?” 

“Barely have any, that helps,” Izzy said wryly. 

“Not true,” Lucius set aside the plate and concentrated on his coffee. “Would you really have gotten something out of it if I kept going?” 

“Yes.” 

“I…I don’t know if I can even ask this.” 

“I can say no,” Izzy reminded them both. 

“Right. You can. Just….is that what you used to do? With Eddy?” 

Izzy’s expression shifted, but not into upset, more like contemplative. Like he was searching for something inside himself. 

“I don’t think it was the same,” he arrived at. “When we weren’t having sex anymore, it was what we did instead. I mean, during we got rough on each other, but not that rough. There was still a line between fighting and fucking. Don’t ask me what it was because we didn’t do all this nice negotiating shit.” 

“Important boundary setting,” Lucius corrected. 

“Yeah that,” Izzy agreed.  

“Did you…did you dish it out back on them?” 

“Sometimes. Depended on why it was happening.” 

“Huh,” he picked up another cracker and shoved it in his mouth to buy time for thinking time. He chewed, swallowed, “Are you going to bruise?” 

Izzy shook his head. “Sorry, pup. Might’ve upset you, but uh…you don’t really pack a wallop.” 

“Wow. Now I feel terrible and my masculinity has been insulted. What an evening.” 

“You’re strong enough to knock me for six if you knew what you were doing,” Izzy shrugged. “I’d teach you, but you don't really want to know, do you?” 

“No,” he agreed. “No I don’t.” 

A few minutes later, he reached the bottom of the coffee cup. The last few sips were sweet and rich. Lucius sighed and dropped his hand down into Izzy’s hair, idly running his hand through it over and over. They stayed there for a long time. 

***

It was a brisk winter afternoon and Lucius was bundled up against it up to his eyeballs. A scarf Stede had gifted him with several years ago was doing a heroic job of keeping the wind off his face, and his thick coat was warding off the worst of it. Too bad his legs were freezing. Stupid jeans. 

“Fuck this,” Lucius announced as their buffeted by another gust of wind. Izzy was walking beside him, barely dressed for the weather and apparently entirely unbothered. The only hint that the cold is affecting him is a very slight redness to his ears and the tip of his nose. “It’s like ten more blocks. I’m hailing a cab.”

“No,” Izzy said firmly, eyes ahead. 

“I’ll- no?”

“No,” Izzy repeated. 

Lucius shrank into his jacket, “Ugh fine. Can I ask why?” 

“You can take one if you want,” Izzy shrugged. “I’m liking the cold.” 

“You’re using your safeword so you can continue to become a popsicle?” Lucius asked, baffled. 

“No is a complete sentence,” Izzy said with a hint of glee. 

“It is,” Lucius had to acknowledge. “What do you like about it?” 

“Dunno,” he had his hands in the pockets of his coat, the leather did not look thick enough to Lucius’ eye. “Don’t usually, but it feels good today. Like it’s waking me up a little. And…Good memory, I think.” 

“Oh wow, not two words you put together a lot. Tell me?” 

“It’s not much,” Izzy shifted a little, so their elbows bumped together. “Faith and I used to go on these long walks. We were idiot kids, didn’t care what the weather was like. Put so many miles on our boots. And she’d freeze her ass off in the winter, she weighed like ten pounds soaking wet, you know?” 

“I didn’t, but I can picture it,” Lucius nodded. “So a particular day or just a feeling?” 

“She got these earmuffs,” Izzy was smiling and that was pretty warming, Lucius could admit. “Pink fluffy things. Ridiculous. And she couldn’t hear anything with them on, or at least thought it was funny to pretend she couldn’t, so we made up these hand signs. Stupid shit like ‘pizza’ and ‘keep going’ or whatever.” 

“Who flipped who off first?” Lucius snorted. 

“She did,” Izzy said without missing a beat. 

“That does sound like a good one,” Lucius shoulder-checked him lightly. “But can we get a cab after the movie?” 

“Yeah, pup. It’ll be full dark by then. I’m having a moment, not looking to freeze to death.” 

***

“This is…excruciating,” Lucius whispered. 

“You chose it,” Izzy said dully. They were crammed into too-small seats, the guy giving the lecture droning on and on. 

“It sounded better on paper.” 

They were fairly stuck, sitting in the dead center of the aisle. The lights were on in the small theater so leaving would draw a substantial amount of attention.

“How?” Izzy asked, blinking slowly. 

“I’ll show you later,” Lucius slumped down lower in his seat.  “Entertain me.” 

Izzy tilted his head and shit shit shit, Lucius realized his mistake just before something stupid happened. In his boredom, he’d been messing around with Izzy’s hand and wound up holding fast to his wrist out of sheer habit. Between the boredom and the grip…

“Red,” he hissed and Izzy jerked a little, but didn’t do whatever had passed through his head at least. “You know what? Fuck it, let’s get out of here.” 

“Yes,” Izzy said, flushed. 

And when Izzy was determined to get somewhere, crowds did have a tendency to part. Lucius followed easily in his wake. When they were safe in the lobby, Izzy slowed a little and Lucius caught up to him. 

“Sorry, goblin.” 

“You caught it,” Izzy waved that off. “I’m good. You?” 

“Yeah. What were you going to do?” 

“Nothing,” Izzy said quickly and then picked up the pace again. Lucius grinned to himself. He’d have to get that out of him later. 

****

It was a cloudy morning, the windows open to let in a warm breeze. Everything smelled good, like the bacon and pancakes that a very shirtless Izzy had made for breakfast while singing very quietly along with the radio. Lucius was done eating, but hadn’t gotten off the stool at the counter yet, just relishing the last of the peace and his coffee. 

Izzy was on the other side of the counter now, his own plate already washed and put away. He had his elbows planted, coffee in hand. There was a beautiful bruise blossoming along his left shoulder.  They were only a handful of inches apart this way, despite the counter between them. 

“Hey, goblin?” 

“Mm?” 

“Any place you’d rather be right now?” 

A slow smile curled over Izzy’s lips. “No.” 

“No…like….no?” Lucius blinked. 

“No where else and no, I don’t want to answer questions,” Izzy leaned in, eliminated those last inches and kissed Lucius once, liquid and slow. “Just happy like this, pup.” 

“Yeah,” Lucius could feel his returning grin, sloppy and ridiculous. “Same."

[restapesta]

23. Don’t you get it? You’re the only one I can be honest with.

Mickey takes being alone with Ian for granted. He really does.

It's quite sad he only realizes that when he's not alone with his ginger life companion—specifically when he's stuck in a moving car with him and fucking Phillip, feeling like a pussy for not having the guts to just open the door and jump out.

Did Ian put child's lock on his door, what the fuck?

He can't do this. It's a fifteen-minute ride to the Gallagher house and Mickey won't be able to survive it. No fucking way. Why did Ian have to say yes to picking Lip up from work? Did he know what hell he would be putting his poor husband through, huh?

If college bitch says something about his shitty delivery job one more time, he swears to God—

"And you know what the best part about this shitty delivery job is?" No. Please, God, make him stop. "Bathroom? Doesn't even fucking exist,"

If Mickey had a gun, he'd stuff it in his mouth.

From the corner of his eye, Mickey sees Ian's gripping the wheel slightly tighter, his knuckles turning white, his tongue bitten between his slightly clenched teeth. Sadly, only Mickey can see him be so frustrated from the passenger seat. He wishes Lip would lean over from the back and see how fucking annoying he really is with his constant babbling.

Maybe it's good he didn't bring a gun with him—Ian looks like he'd wanna stuff it in his mouth, too.

Does he have child's lock on?

"Anyways," Lip breathes out and Mickey focuses on the buzzing of the AC so he wouldn't have to endure the brainwashing his brother-in-law's—why him?—voice is doing.

Ian seems to be thinking the same thing, his eyes rolling discreetly to the back of his head, staying there for a moment or two.

Mickey's torn between telling him to keep his eyes on the goddamn road or just letting him crash their new car into a pole. At least then they wouldn't have to listen to the yapping that's filling every nook and cranny of the fresh interior.

Their car had never seemed so small. Since when is Mickey so claustrophobic? There used to be so much room.

Oh right, Lip's ego is taking up most of it. How could Mickey forget?

"Oh, yeah," He says suddenly, and Ian and Mickey share a look. What now? Will he ever stop? "I meant to ask you about your meds, Ian. You told me you were visiting your doctor or some shit like that."

Mickey reclines back in his seat, lips pursing as he waits for Ian to fill Lip in on the new prescription and its side effects, and whatever other shit Mickey's already got written down in the notes on his phone from when Ian told him in detail about it.

He had been pretty down when he came home from seeing his doctors, listing off all of the shit he was worried about with the new therapy and adjusting to it. He even had a couple of sleepless nights that resulted in him seeking out different pharmacies to buy sleeping pills, which ultimately led to a night of sleepless vomiting because the cocktail of pills didn't really bode well for Ian's stomach.

Mickey doesn't mind reliving it. Doesn't mind listening to his husband talk about the things important to him and things that Mickey should know about.

And, truthfully, Mickey's already come face to face with the fact that he likes knowing about all of Ian's shit—they're already living, sleeping, and working together, so the prospect of knowing that new meds give Ian diarrhea if they're taken on an empty stomach doesn't really seem like a TMI-type of thing to know.

When Ian's related, nothing and everything is pretty much TMI.

"Oh," Ian responds after a moment of silence. His eyes aren't focused when Mickey turns to look at him. It seems as if he's racking his brain around for the proper words, yet can't seem to find them. Eventually, he just lets out, "Everything's the same. Nothing new."

Mickey knows that's not true.

"Didn't you say you were being put on some new shit?" Lip's confused. Mickey is too.

Ian was put on new shit. Shit that landed him with a week of goddamn exhaustion and a fucked-up stomach.

"No. It's the same."

"Oh," Lip mutters. "Okay then."

And he continues to go into another monologue about why being a delivery boy is such a shitty job to have with a mind of his.

Mickey stares at Ian's side profile for as long as it takes him to turn around and meet his eye. It takes him long—in fact, Mickey's pretty sure Ian won't be turning around any time soon.

Why would he lie? Why would he hide the fact he did change his meds when it's really not that big of a deal?

Mickey's even more confused by it because Ian had ranted about his doctor's appointment the day of it, nearly talking Mickey's ear off. He had been annoyed, relieved, and worried, all at the same time, and the entire Tuesday was just spent with them talking about bipolar like the mundane thing it was.

So, why wouldn't Ian just want to retell that shit again? It wasn't as if he didn't still have frustrations over it. Not like he wouldn't fucking jump on the chance to talk about his biggest concerns the second the opportunity presented itself.

Why then?

Lip's still talking and Ian's still not looking at him.

Mickey places a gentle hand on his thigh, trying to get his attention. In response to Mickey's thumb running over his husband's jeans, Ian just places a hand on top of his, picking it up and raising it to his mouth until the rough skin meets the smoothness of his lips. When he finally looks at him, there's a plead in his eye. An answer to Mickey's unasked question.

Later.

"Ugh, can you guys not do that here? Since when did you become that couple?"

They both ignore the dumbass in the backseat of their car. Ian turns to look ahead, and he pushes his foot down visibly on the gas pedal, and Mickey knows that the time until they're able to drop Lip off is cutting shorter.

"You guys are really annoying with that mind-reading shit, you know that?"

Mickey breathes in deeply.

Five more minutes. Just five more minutes and they'll be alone.

Ian's hand doesn't disentangle from his, but Mickey does move them so they're laying on top of his leg, palms pressed tightly together. He squeezes at it once.

Ian squeezes back.

There's a faint mumble from the back.

"I fucking hate being the third wheel."

Mickey barely stops himself from jumping into Ian's lap, just in spite.

Instead, with his free hand, he just flips him off.

---

They're driving to their place when Mickey finally asks the question. They've been alone for a couple of minutes now, after a prolonged—much to both their dismays—goodbye to Lip in front of the Gallagher house. As soon as it was appropriate to, Ian peeled out of the driveway, putting as much distance between him and his family—his annoying-ass brother—as he possibly could in a record time.

At first, Mickey fiddled with the radio until he landed on some radio station that played pop-shit music, lowering the volume until the Taylor Swift song—he hates that he knows it—was just a hum filling the silence. Ian isn't speaking, but he doesn't seem tense.

He seems just as always, shoulders even further relaxed—slumped, actually, because he has the posture of a question mark—now that Lip is out of the car and in the hands of the others to deal with.

"So," Mickey starts casually when his weirdo of a partner starts singing lowly to Lover on the radio. It's a song they only listen to when they're feeling sappier than usual, but Ian tends to always be sappy, so none of this sweet singing shit was a surprise for Mickey. The lyrics coming out of Ian's mouth still make his chest swell pleasantly, despite him barely holding himself back from rolling his eyes. "What was that?"

"Hm?" Ian's eyes momentarily move to eye Mickey. They go back almost immediately. "What was what?"

"What was that thing with Lip?" The question isn't meant to be judgmental nor accusing. Mickey really is just curious.

It wasn't him whom Ian had lied to. But why did he lie in the first place?

Ian shrugs, lowering the volume with the switch on the wheel even further until they can barely hear the soft voice.

"I just didn't feel like telling him." Is the simple reply.

"Why?"

"Because."

"Ian."

"Mickey—"

"Come on, man, don't give me that bullshit."

"I'm not—I don't," He exhales roughly as if finally forcing himself to admit to something he doesn't want to admit to. "I don't like anybody knowing about it. It's nobody's business but my own."

Mickey makes a face, still confused as fuck. He gets the reasoning behind the words, but it's just not clicking in his brain. Maybe Lip really did brainwash it. "You say you don't like anybody knowing, but you told me."

Ian glances away from the road and sends Mickey the type of look that says he thinks what Mickey just said was the dumbest thing possible. It's incredulous.

"You're not anybody, Mick."

And that's sweet and all, but—

"Lip's not anybody either."

Ian sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, dramatically exasperated. "Don't you get it, Mickey? You're the only one I can be honest with. Completely transparent."

Mickey doesn't know why he's still pushing, but fuck, there's no way. "You can be transparent with Lip. He'll hear you out, give you advice. Won't judge you." Why is he defending Lip again? "I'm not the only one who understands."

"Yeah, but you're the only one who isn't annoying about it. If I wanted Lip to know, I would've called him straight away. But instead, I talked to you. Mickey, you're a dumbass if you don't see that you're the only one I want to tell."

Well fuck.

Mickey blinks. He actually is a dumbass, but that's already been genetically proven. This is something else.

Mickey feels Ian's words deep in his chest. His heart jumps to his throat—it's one of the best things Ian could've said to him. It doesn't feel fucking real.

"Really?" He asks pathetically. It's not like Ian would lie; he's always had a knack for saying everything that's on his mind. Mickey loves that about him right now. It's just that—Mickey? He wants to tell Mickey about it and nobody else?

Ian smiles at him. "Really, babe," Mickey blushes as the nickname. "You know just how many questions to ask. When to listen and when to talk. When to give me advice and when to tell me to get out of my own head." Ian's eyebrows furrow. "Lip doesn't know how to do that. Not like you—"

No. Mickey will not cry. No. It's just eyeball sweat.

"—With you, I know that I can say whatever is on my mind and won't feel like shit about it. It's fucking liberating, having somebody like that."

Mickey breathes in deeply. Fuck Ian for using his words like this and making his heart squeeze impossibly. Why is he so fucking perfect all the fucking time?

How did Mickey get so fucking lucky?

"Yeah," He responds dumbly, out of breath—because it legit is logged up in his throat at the moment. He clears it. "I guess that's what best friends are for."

And the grin Ian sends him in response to the sheepishly-said sentence is enough to make butterflies explode inside Mickey's belly—ugh, no, he's supposed to be past that stage, for fuck's sake.

Ian's still grinning as Mickey's whole face probably turns the shade of Ian's favorite vegetable—maybe that's why Ian likes it when Mickey blushes—and he has to avert his gaze so he doesn't go even redder than Ian's hair.

"Best friends? I feel honored, Mick."

"Shut up."

"No, for real."

"Shut up."

Ian laughs and spares Mickey the embarrassment by raising the volume up on the radio, the song now booming loudly through the space.

Ian glances over at Mickey right as he starts singing it joyfully, a wide smile on his face. This is the Ian Mickey knows and loves—happy Ian.

Mickey's favorite Ian after the horny one.

Mickey's chest swells with pride. He ended up with Ian. The Ian who loves him unconditionally; who knows just the right to say and when to say it; who just told him Mickey's the only one he can be real with.

I can only be honest with you, too. He wants to tell him. I only am honest with you.

Instead of saying the words, he starts singing himself, and the screeching voices of two men stupidly in love are seeping out of the slightly opened windows, the wind whooshing them away.

I can only do this with you, Mickey thinks. I'm only this free with you.

Judging by the way Ian's smiling, Mickey guesses he's thinking the same thing, too.

"Darling, you're my, my, my, my lover."

[dark-frosted-heart]

What MC was your favorite in ikepri routes so far and why? :)

( ｡•ω•｡)ﾉ This was a hard one to answer because again, I'm going to be extremely biased like when I was asked what my favorite route was (I was actually thinking about this the other day: the irony that my favorite routes in an otome game don't actually focus heavily on romance. It’s still there, but feels more subtle. Literally, for both routes, confessions happen in either the last or second to last chapter), but they really are Clavis' and Sariel's MCs. I remember when I was reading Clavis route, I always found MC adorable and funny. And being really impressed with her in Sariel’s route.

Spoilers under the cut. 

TL - True Love route PL - Passionate Love route

Clavis’ MC - I freaking love her dynamic with Clavis. How she doesn’t take shit from him, but still ends up going along with his plans like “I don’t actually hate this, but I guess this is my life now”. She’s so outspoken, but then gets really shy when it comes to being lovey-dovey. - The way she cares and supports him, and how she’s learned to differentiate between his smiles. She’s tsun and absolutely refuses to fall in love with him, but whenever Clavis is feeling anxious, she helps him the way he’s helped her when she’s felt that way. - *clenches fist* The way she knows how important Clavis and Chevalier are to each other.  - Strong and brave (though sometimes foolishly stubborn), not saying that the other MCs aren’t, but this girl had to deal with so much shit...witnessing Chevalier kill someone before her on her 2nd day in court, Clavis’ cooking, being alone with Gilbert, drinking with Silvio, standing up against Chevalier and his sword while Clavis has a mild breakdown (TL), being casually bathed in blood as Chevalier kills people in a dance hall (PL), having Gilbert hold a sword against her neck and actually draw blood (PL)... - One of my favorite lines from MC, from PL, after Clavis has Cyril escort her to the Obsidian/Rhodolite border while he [Clavis] stays in Obsidian and Cyril points out how she didn’t cry: “If I have time to cry, then I have time to think about a way to get Clavis back to Rhodolite “

Sariel’s MC - The fact that she becomes a mini Sariel and even the princes point that out - I think she really showcases her intelligence and hardworking nature in this route. And she has an unwavering heart that doesn’t change her views on Sariel, no matter the rumors, what she’s seen, or what even Sariel himself says (all of which relating to Sariel being the devil. Like sure, but she’s still going to save his life anyway, even at the risk of her own life). - I really loved being able to see MC at work, especially since in this route she’s pretending to be a bureaucrat’s apprentice. Even if she does work until she passes out at her desk... - Clever girl learning how to get information. Like learning that she can bribe Chevalier with books, which she got from Nokto in exchange for information on Silvio’s schedule. - Her freaking endurance and willpower. After citizens call for Sariel’s execution for his involvement in the previous king’s death, MC stands in the plaza for days to, even when it rains, revealing her identity as Belle and talking to the people about her experiences in court. This eventually leads to less people wanting Sariel dead. This is all part of her plan to draw out the true culprit behind the embassy fire, which works (TL) - In PL, she also has a plan to exonerate Sariel and draw out the true culprit. She knows just which princes to go for help + how to convince them. -  When she and Sariel get invited to a merchant’s place in Benitoite, she immediately pieces together that he’s the culprit behind the fire and knows exactly why he invited them.

[bloody-bee-tea]

Survivor

Jiang Cheng is bone deep exhausted and the only thought on his mind is to finally get some sleep. He has endured his siblings fawning over him and healers from two different Sects checking him over even though he told them all again and again that he’s fine and now he just wants to sleep.

It’s been a long, long day.

The tiniest bit of tension seeps out of his shoulders when his tent comes into view and he releases a breath of relief when he finally steps into it, only for him to whip out Zidian when he realizes that there’s someone in here with him.

“It’s just me,” Nie Mingjue says, his hands raised, but staying right where he is and Jiang Cheng slumps.

“Don’t fucking do shit like that,” he snaps at him, because he’s tired and cranky and Nie Mingjue really should know better.

They are at war. You simply don’t sneak up on anyone but especially not on someone who has been ambushed that same day.

“What are you doing here?” Jiang Cheng wants to know as Nie Mingjue walks up to him.

“I was worried about you,” Nie Mingjue admits as he pulls Jiang Cheng into a hug and Jiang Cheng immediately melts into him.

It’s a good place to be, exhaustion be damned, and they stay like that for a long time.

“’m tired,” Jiang Cheng finally slurs out and he feels Nie Mingjue nod.

“We’ll get you to bed,” he says and gently pushes Jiang Cheng towards his bed. “Are you hurt?” he asks and Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes at him.

“Shouldn’t you know? I seem to recall that besides my healers some other healers were there as well. I would think they reported back to their Sect Leader.”

He’s not really mad, despite the bite in his tone, but he nevertheless enjoys it when Nie Mingjue blushes slightly.

“I was worried,” he repeats, his tone defensive, and Jiang Cheng can’t deny that something warm and tingly unfurls in his chest.

“I was worried, too,” Jiang Cheng admits, because while he couldn’t say this to his siblings, he thinks that maybe he can tell Nie Mingjue about it.

He will understand.

“There was a moment where I thought—I was very worried,” Jiang Cheng whispers, and he tenses when he remembers the fight, the screams, the panic, the blood. So much blood.

It wasn’t his first fight, wasn’t even his fifth or tenth one, but it has never been this close.

“But you got them all out, right?” Nie Mingjue asks, coming up behind Jiang Cheng, hugging him to his chest.

“The healers are not sure if two of them will make it through the night,” Jiang Cheng chokes out and Nie Mingjue presses a kiss to his head.

“But you got them out. That’s what matters for now. You got all of them out of there alive. Now it’s up to them. But you gave them a chance. You’re a survivor,” Nie Mingjue lowly tells him and Jiang Cheng spins around in his arms to bury his face in his neck.

“It doesn’t feel like something I should be proud of,” he mutters. “They caught us off guard.”

“And you fought and you won. You made it out and they didn’t. That’s all that matters,” Nie Mingjue says again and Jiang Cheng notes the slight tremor in his voice.

When he pulls back to give Nie Mingjue a questioningly look he is completely caught off guard by the soft look on Nie Mingjue’s face.

“I was so worried,” he says, for the third time that evening and Jiang Cheng can’t help it, he simply has to pull him in for a kiss.

He was worried, too. Worried and terrified and angry and exhausted. But he knew he had to fight or they would all die, and so he fought as hard as he never did before.

And now he’s crashing.

“I need to sleep,” Jiang Cheng says when they part and it earns him a kiss to his cheekbone.

“Then we’ll sleep,” Nie Mingjue decides and swiftly gets Jiang Cheng out of his outer robe, before he strips himself.

Normally, this would lead to very fun activities, but Jiang Cheng is so tired he can barely even appreciate the fact that Nie Mingjue is mostly undressed in his own tent, and so he simply climbs into bed.

Nie Mingjue is right behind him and as soon as they laid down, he pulls Jiang Cheng into his chest again.

“I’m so glad you came back,” Nie Mingjue whispers into his hair and Jiang Cheng turns around again so that he can curl into Nie Mingjue’s chest.

“Me too,” Jiang Cheng says, pressing small kisses to every part of Nie Mingjue that he can reach.

Nie Mingjue presses kiss after kiss to his head and Jiang Cheng is exhausted enough that he almost immediately drifts off.

“I wouldn’t know what to do if I lost you,” Nie Mingjue whispers, so quiet that Jiang Cheng almost misses it and his last conscious thought is that this doesn’t sound like they are just fuck-buddies anymore.

He falls asleep with a smile.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng knows what Nie Mingjue is going to say before he even opens his mouth. He can see it in his eyes, can see it in the way Nie Mingjue makes even more of an effort to stay straight and come off as stern, makes an effort to keep himself closed off and away from Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng isn’t quite sure when it happened but over the last few weeks he learned to read Nie Mingjue.

And what he reads now is going to break Jiang Cheng’s heart, he just knows it.

“I think we should end it here,” Nie Mingjue says, and despite how predictable it is, despite the fact that he expected this, Jiang Cheng’s world feels like it’s going to shatter.

“I see,” he still gives back despite how he’s working his jaw in an effort to not beg Nie Mingjue to not do this.

He will not beg anyone. And especially not Nie Mingjue when he so clearly doesn’t want Jiang Cheng anymore.

They both deserve better than that.

“It was a war fling. It happens, but it also ends,” Nie Mingjue goes on and even though Jiang Cheng promised himself he would be calm he can’t do it.

Not when Nie Mingjue sounds like this didn’t mean anything at all to him.

“I said I see,” he snaps at Nie Mingjue who falls silent. “I’m not stupid, and I’m not deaf. I heard you the first time.”

“Oh,” Nie Mingjue says but then he nods. “We’ll be fellow Sect Leaders then, and nothing more.”

“It’s not like you would have had time for me anyway, what with your two new brothers and all,” Jiang Cheng bitterly says and he tries very hard not to think about the fact that he had hoped for a bond with Nie Mingjue himself.

A very different one than Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen now have with him but it’s very clear that that is never going to happen now.

Yunmeng Jiang will have to fend for themselves going on, just like they always did.

“I wish you the best,” Jiang Cheng forces himself to say before Nie Mingjue can say something to that, even though he feels like crying or screaming or both.

“If you need something—” Nie Mingjue starts, but Jiang Cheng cuts him off.

“Thank you for the kind offer, Sect Leader Nie,” he presses out, overly stiff and formal, and he forces himself into a bow. “Goodbye.”

He turns around without waiting for a response from Nie Mingjue and he has to clench his jaw to keep back the tears.

Jiang Cheng thought that they had a good thing, despite how it was first formed out of mutual terror of the war and grief for their lost people and pent up energy from the fights. He thought they had made something more of it, something that allowed for soft touches and sweet promises, but clearly he had been wrong. Naive and wrong, like always, Jiang Cheng scoffs at himself, because of course he would interpret something more into this when all it was to Nie Mingjue was a convenience.

And going on, Nie Mingjue won’t have much time for conveniences anymore, not with how he’s the hero of this war and with the new bonds he’ll have to form.

But it’s fine, it’s fine. Jiang Cheng will just—he’ll just go on, like he did numerous times already. 

If not even the death of his whole world could break him then a broken heart should be nothing.

It will be fine.

~*~*~

“Did something happen?” Jiang Yanli asks him when he sits down for dinner, clearly reading Jiang Cheng’s bad temper but Jiang Cheng really isn’t in the mood to lay out his stupid heartbreak to his sister, however understanding she would be.

It’s still too fresh.

“Where’s Wei Wuxian?” he instead snaps out, because he’s missing again and Jiang Cheng might have tolerated it when they were still at war, but that’s over now and Wei Wuxian will have to fall back into his role as Jiang Cheng’s second in command.

No more running off on his own.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Wei Wuxian calls out, lazily strolling into the room as if he has all the time in the world and it does nothing to lift Jiang Cheng’s mood.

“Where have you been?” he demands to know but Wei Wuxian only gives him that infuriating smile as he twirls his flute.

Jiang Cheng is too tired to even berate him over the lack of his sword.

“Here and there,” he gives back and Jiang Yanli hides her giggle behind her sleeve.

“And Lan Wangji?” she coyly asks and Jiang Cheng has to watch as his brother goes all suspiciously shifty.

“Ah, shijie, don’t be mean now. You know how nagging and annoying Lan Zhan can be,” Wei Wuxian says, but he doesn’t deny that he was with him.

And that’s enough for Jiang Cheng.

He will not have Lan Wangji of all people ruin his brother’s strenuous reputation any more.

“I am expecting a proper courtship,” Jiang Cheng says, effectively cutting whatever Wei Wuxian was about to say next off and Jiang Cheng can’t deny that he has to bite back a laugh when Wei Wuxian stares with wide eyes at him.

“A what now?” he repeats, because clearly his hearing took a turn for the worse and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

“A proper courtship. I will not let Lan Wangji disrespect you like this. Either he is serious about this or he can stop right now.”

“But—Lan Zhan and I—what are you even talking about?” Wei Wuxian asks, trying to laugh his confusion off and Jiang Cheng frowns.

“Is he not serious about you?” he wonders, ready to get up and beat some sense into Lan Wangji, but Jiang Yanli’s hand on his arm stops him.

“A-Xian, is he not serious about you or are you not serious about him?” she asks and Jiang Cheng frowns, because that’s not even a possibility he entertained.

Wei Wuxian has been running after Lan Wangji since their time in the Cloud Recesses; if he wasn’t serious about him, he would have stopped long ago like he did with all his other infatuations.

“No one is serious about anyone!” Wei Wuxian exclaims all of a sudden and Jiang Cheng’s eyes go wide.

“Oh,” he breathes out, because he didn’t consider that they had a thing like he and Nie Mingjue did. “I see.”

“I don’t! Why would you even—it’s not like—no one is serious about this, right?” Wei Wuxian asks and his voice is suddenly very quiet and he looks pleadingly between Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng.

“A-Xian, it is rather obvious that Lan Wangji seems to be in love with you,” Jiang Yanli carefully says. “And going by your behaviour we just thought you are, too? Which clearly is fine, it’s just—A-Cheng is right. There should be a proper courtship.”

Wei Wuxian can’t seem to find his words at that, because he keeps staring at them, but finally Jiang Yanli’s words seem to have hit him. 

Wei Wuxian gasps and slaps his hand over his mouth, as tears fill his eyes.

“I love him,” he whispers and Jiang Cheng can do nothing but stare incredulously at him.

“You didn’t know? How the hell could you not know, with how you’re running after him?”

“And he loves me?” Wei Wuxian goes on, as if he didn’t hear Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng wants to snap at him that the fact that Lan Wangji loves Wei Wuxian is even more obvious but he bites his tongue at the last moment.

He also thought that Nie Mingjue felt more for him than he clearly did, so maybe he isn’t in any position to judge here.

“Of course he loves you,” Jiang Yanli softly says and Jiang Cheng is not prepared for the blinding smile that breaks out on Wei Wuxian’s face.

He didn’t realize it before, but it’s been a long time since Wei Wuxian smiled like this.

One more reason to break Lan Wangji’s entire body, should he hurt Wei Wuxian.

“I have to go,” Wei Wuxian rushes out, already moving and Jiang Cheng doesn’t even have the heart to stop him.

“A courtship!” he still yells after him, because it’s important and Wei Wuxian is liable to forget.

“What an idiot,” he mutters once Wei Wuxian is gone and Jiang Yanli laughs.

“Blinded by love, is what he is,” she gives back with a wistful sigh and Jiang Cheng turns towards her.

If they already are at the topic—

“What about you and the pe—Jin Zixuan?” he wants to know.

Jiang Cheng will probably never like Jin Zixuan, especially not after the last stunt he pulled, but Jiang Yanli always had a soft spot for him and if she still wants to pursue a relationship with him, then Jiang Cheng will support her in this.

“It’s fine, A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli says with a smile but Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

He’s tired of Jiang Yanli always doing what’s best for everyone else. 

“It’s not. It never was. Just tell me what you really want,” he insists and Jiang Yanli falls silent for a long moment.

“I always liked him,” she finally admits and while Jiang Cheng still wants to punch Jin Zixuan in the face, if this is what his sister wants then he’ll make it happen.

“But not like this. Not if he doesn’t like me back. I don’t want to be—” she bites back her words, but Jiang Cheng still knows what she wanted to say. 

It would be disrespectful to the dead though.

“I understand. We’ll do nothing for now, then. If he should show that he has a spine and actually knows how to appreciate you, we can talk about it,” Jiang Cheng decides and is not prepared for the proud look Jiang Yanli throws him.

“You’ve grown so much, A-Cheng,” she softly says and cups his cheek in her hand. “But you should have someone at your side as well.”

“I have you and Wei Wuxian,” he immediately gives back, even though he’s sure that’s not quite what Jiang Yanli means.

“Don’t misunderstand me on purpose,” she gently chides him. “You know what I mean. You should have someone you love and who loves you in return.”

It hits a little bit too close, with how recently Nie Mingjue told him to break it off, and Jiang Cheng jerks his head away from her because he can’t quite hide the bitter twist of his mouth.

“Don’t,” he begs his sister, because he’s not ready to talk about this, not ready to admit that he thought he had that already.

“What about Nie Mingjue?” his sister relentlessly goes on. “I thought it looked like there was something between you. You’ve been meeting frequently.”

“You thought wrong,” he snaps at her and then immediately feels bad when she flinches at his angry tone. “You thought wrong,” he says again, much quieter this time and understanding washes over her face.

“Oh, A-Cheng, I’m sorry,” she says and pulls him into a hug. 

Jiang Cheng promised himself that he wouldn’t cry over Nie Mingjue—he needs to be strong and composed for his people—but he can’t remember those reasons when he’s safely in his sister’s arms.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng doesn’t see Wei Wuxian until the next morning, but he has Lan Wangji in tow, who does propose a proper courtship between him and Wei Wuxian, so Jiang Cheng chalks that off as a success.

He allows Lan Wangji to court his right hand man, of course, mostly because he truly wants to see Wei Wuxian happy, but also because it means the Lan Sect can’t quite openly go against them. Jiang Cheng will take any little advantage he can get.

He hates that he has to see Nie Mingjue at the banquet that evening, but he somehow manages a polite bow, before he turns away from him and then he tries to not look at him all night.

It’s harder than it should be and when Jin Guangshan gets up to say something unpleasant, Jiang Cheng is almost grateful for it.

He re-evaluates that when Jin Guangshan brings up a new betrothal between Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan. Jiang Cheng is glad he talked about this with his sister just yesterday, because he feels so much better shutting Jin Guangshan down now, especially when he can announce Wei Wuxian’s and Lan Wangji’s courtship in the same moment.

That, at least, gets Jin Guangshan to shut up for a while.

Jiang Cheng pretends he doesn’t see the small smile on Nie Mingjue’s face, because it doesn’t only hurt, it also brings out something bitter and mean in Jiang Cheng.

He turns away before the sneer can make it to his face. It does nothing to hide his pain, though.

~*~*~

When Wei Wuxian comes across Wen Qing, he has enough trust in Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng to ask for help before he blows up in everyone’s faces.

Jiang Cheng can’t bring himself to accept them into Yunmeng Jiang, no matter how sorry he is about it and how he can’t quite meet Wen Qing’s eyes when he tells them that, but Lan Wangji promises that he’ll settle them in Gusu Lan, since no one trusts Jin Guangshan when he tells them he can take care of them.

Jiang Cheng didn’t even dare to ask Nie Mingjue for help, and he excuses that with the fact that Lan Wangji offered and that Wei Wuxian was due for a stay there anyway.

He can help them get settled before he and Lan Wangji return to Lotus Pier and it will all work out fine.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng can’t quite hide his surprise when Jin Zixuan is led into the conference room.

“What are you doing here?” Jiang Cheng snaps at him, because he’s not really over how this guy treated his sister and even her reassuring presence at his side does nothing to help calm him down.

“I’m here to—” Jin Zixuan starts and then trails off, his eyes apparently caught by Jiang Yanli.

“Apologise, I hope,” Jiang Cheng finishes for him, because that is the only reason he will excuse his unannounced visit.

“That, yes. And make amends. And—maybe start new?” Jin Zixuan awkwardly finishes and Jiang Cheng raises his eyebrows.

“You want to start new with my sister,” he warningly says, barely believing the gall this guy has.

“If the lady wants it, of course,” Jin Zixuan hastily adds, falling into a deep bow and it allows Jiang Cheng to roll his eyes as Jiang Yanli tries to swallow her giggles.

“A-Cheng,” she says when Jiang Cheng leaves Jin Zixuan in the bow for longer than is really necessary, but he can’t help it.

That guy made his sister cry. He can grovel for a while.

“A-jie,” he questioningly asks, but of course she’s already on her way to Jin Zixuan to ease him out of his bow.

“Where’s your entourage?” she asks him but Jin Zixuan just shakes his head, going bright red in the face.

“There’s only Mianmian,” he tells them and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes again.

“Did you at least leave a letter at home?” he wants to know, because he’s not keen on having the Jin Sect accuse him of stealing Jin Zixuan away.

“I left it in my mother’s room. She should have read it by now,” Jin Zixuan gives back and Jiang Cheng sighs.

It’s clear that Jiang Yanli wants to give him another chance and as long as he behaves Jiang Cheng is willing to give that to his sister.

“Fine. You can stay. But if you even so much as stick one toe out of line, you’re gone again,” he promises him and Jin Zixuan’s hair flies, he’s nodding so hard.

Jiang Cheng just hopes that he’ll do better this time around. His sister deserves some happiness, too.

~*~*~

When Lan Wangji writes him that he and Wei Wuxian are on their way to Lotus Pier, bringing Wen Qing and Wen Ning, dread settles in Jiang Cheng’s gut.

The letter speaks of something urgent, something they have to discuss, something Jiang Cheng needs to know, and he’s not looking forward to that conversation no matter what it is.

It turns out his instinct was right when he learns about Wei Wuxian’s core—his own now—and demonic cultivation and how it’s killing Wei Wuxian and how it could all still blow up in their faces.

That conversation rivals the one he had with Nie Mingjue in terms in how desperately he wants to forget it, but he pushes through anyway.

He has to figure out how to help his brother.

~*~*~

It’s almost to the day a year after the end of the Sunshot Campaign when Nie Huaisang arrives in Lotus Pier, with little fanfare and without anyone accompanying him.

It puts Jiang Cheng on edge, despite Wei Wuxian’s reminder that they all used to be friends.

He thinks he’s proven right when Nie Huaisang asks for a private audience, with just Jiang Cheng.

“Jiang-xiong,” Nie Huaisang greets him and Jiang Cheng let’s the bitterness get the better of him.

“That’s Jiang-zhongzhu to you,” he snaps out and immediately feels bad when Nie Huaisang flicks his fan open in a defensive motion.

“I am not my brother,” Nie Huaisang presses out before he sighs. “I hoped we are still friends,” he adds and it’s enough to make Jiang Cheng feel guilty.

“We are,” he gives back with a sigh of his own. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for,” Jiang Cheng apologizes and then invites Nie Huaisang to sit down with him.

“You’re stressed,” Nie Huaisang observes and Jiang Cheng snorts.

“I don’t have that many relations with the Nie’s,” Jiang Cheng gives back and Nie Huaisang winces.

“Yeah, that’s my brother’s fault,” he says and gives Jiang Cheng a meaningful look.

So he knows what they had. Great.

“What brings you here, Huaisang?” Jiang Cheng wants to know, though he can already tell that he’s not going to like it much.

“I’m here because of my brother,” Nie Huaisang says and immediately proves Jiang Cheng right.

“I don’t talk to Nie-zhongzhu, in case you didn’t notice,” Jiang Cheng snaps out and Nie Huaisang laughs lightly.

“Oh, I definitely noticed. I especially noticed that you two stopped talking right after we won the war. He wouldn’t tell me why, though, until a few days ago.”

“It’s not that hard to figure out, Huaisang. He didn’t like me enough to keep talking to me,” Jiang Cheng says with a shrug and he doesn’t even care that he sounds bitter.

He is bitter. Let Nie Huaisang know, what does he care.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Nie Huaisang says and hides behind his fan again. “Though it’s what he said to me as well. It’s a lie though.”

That makes Jiang Cheng freeze.

“What?”

“It’s a lie. He wouldn’t tell me the real reason until a few days ago, when he suffered a qi deviation. Not enough to kill him or even seriously injure him, but. It was still bad,” Nie Huaisang lowly says and Jiang Cheng can’t help the worry in his gut.

He wishes he could have just forgotten Nie Mingjue, could have found someone else to give all these feelings to, but he still wakes up more nights than not, searching for someone in his bed who is no longer there and hasn’t been for longer than he could ever be found in Jiang Cheng’s bed in the first place.

Sometimes he scoffs at himself for how ridiculous it is to keep wishing for something that was just such a brief moment in his life, but he can’t help it.

He loves Nie Mingjue, still, and it hurts. It never stopped.

“How is he?” Jiang Cheng forces himself to ask, because he can’t even imagine anything happening to Nie Mingjue or it will drive him insane.

“Not too well. Shaken, like we all are,” Nie Huaisang admits. “But it brought out some truths. He’s dying, Wanyin. He’s dying and he knew it a year ago. It’s the reason he broke up with you.”

Jiang Cheng blinks a few times because that is just too much information at once. His stomach drops when he registers that Nie Mingjue is apparently dying but his heart picks up when he thinks about how Nie Huaisang refers to their split as a break up.

“We never were enough to actually break up,” Jiang Cheng forces out, because he needs to make that clear right away.

“Yes, you were,” Nie Huaisang gives back without hesitation. “My brother loved you, I could see it back then and I can see it still. He’s still heartbroken, but he thinks he did you a favour. He has accepted that he’s going to die.”

That doesn’t sound right. He hasn’t seen or spoken to Nie Mingjue in a year now, but he doesn’t strike him as someone who would simply accept death as the inevitable outcome.

“Why would he?”

“It’s a family thing and no one could find a solution yet. Er-ge is trying with musical cultivation but I’m not sure how well that’s going. But Wanyin, please, that’s not—we can talk about this later. Did you hear what else I said? He loves you.”

Jiang Cheng did actually hear that, he just doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with that, even though his heart is telling him very clearly what to do.

“I heard you,” he whispers, though it’s still hard to believe.

Nie Mingjue didn’t look like he loved him when he told him they should end it.

“What are you going to do about it?” Nie Huaisang wants to know and Jiang Cheng huffs out a disbelieving laugh.

“Are you here because I you think I can help your brother?”

“Well—” Nie Huaisang drawls out but then he shakes his head when Jiang Cheng throws him a look. “Not only, okay? Yes, if you are inclined to help, that would be great, I don’t actually want da-ge to die. But I also just want him to be happy, no matter if you can help or not. I didn’t know why he broke up with you but now I do and it’s just so—so stupid! And I’ve been talking to Wei Wuxian a bit and Jin Zixuan too, and they said you don’t seem to be happy or looking for someone else and I just thought you both deserved to be happy.”

Jiang Cheng can do nothing but gape at him, because he didn’t actually think Nie Huaisang cared that much but it seems he was wrong.

“He—loves me still?” Jiang Cheng manages to ask and his heart does a funny thing when Nie Huaisang nods.

“What about you?” Nie Huaisang lowly asks and Jiang Cheng can’t meet his eyes.

He never admitted it before, not to his siblings and certainly not to Nie Mingjue, and it feels wrong to do so to Nie Huaisang now.

“I’ll come back with you,” he says instead of a real answer, but it seems like it’s answer enough anyway, because Nie Huaisang beams at him.

“I knew it,” he whispers but Jiang Cheng can’t find it in him to be mad at him for assuming.

Not if Nie Huaisang is assuming the truth.

~*~*~

“What are you doing here?” Nie Mingjue gruffly asks when Nie Huaisang pushes Jiang Cheng into his private room.

Jiang Cheng takes a moment to glare at the now closed door, but then he turns around to Nie Mingjue. Nie Huaisang has warned him, but Jiang Cheng is still surprised how shitty Nie Mingjue looks; he lost weight and there are circle under his eyes that weren’t even present during the war, when none of them got any good sleep, ever.

It really must eat away at him.

“I’m here to help,” Jiang Cheng says and before he can add that he’s here for maybe something more, too, Nie Mingjue abruptly turns away from him.

“There’s nothing you can do,” Nie Mingjue shortly tells him but Jiang Cheng will not be so easily brushed off.

“Bullshit,” he says and it startles Nie Mingjue enough to turn around to him.

“Excuse me?”

“I said bullshit, you heard me quite well,” Jiang Cheng repeats and angrily crosses his arms in front of his chest.

It’s not the first time since the war that he has seen Nie Mingjue, but it’s the first time that they are speaking like this and Jiang Cheng is more nervous than he would like to admit.

“Oh? And what are you going to do that my Sect hasn’t yet tried, huh?” Nie Mingjue bitingly asks, but Jiang Cheng isn’t fazed by that.

“We found a way to deal with Wei Wuxian’s demonic cultivation. We found a way to restore a destroyed core. I think we can find a solution for your qi deviation problem,” Jiang Cheng gives back, matching Nie Mingjue in tone and he has to admit he enjoys the dumb-founded look on his face.

“You did what?” Nie Mingjue breathes out. “Restoring a core is impossible.”

“So is transplanting a core but here I am, core and all. I think between Wen Qing’s genius, Wei Wuxian’s unorthodox thinking and my stubbornness, we can make it work.”

“You have a transplanted core?” Nie Mingjue asks, frown on his face but Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

“That’s not important right now. What’s important is that we can most likely help you.”

“Most likely,” Nie Mingjue tonelessly gives back.

“Do not be like that,” Jiang Cheng warns him. “Do not reject this opportunity just because it might not work. There’s more chance that it will.”

“But you can’t promise it,” Nie Mingjue says and it sounds so final, as if he’s already made his peace with dying.

Jiang Cheng would even believe it if he wouldn’t look so haunted.

“No one can promise that and yet we still go out on night hunts,” he gives back, because he will not allow Nie Mingjue to reject this chance.

“That’s different,” Nie Mingjue says but Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“It’s not,” he says but he can see how Nie Mingjue closes himself off. “Do you really want Nie Huaisang to watch you die without even trying?”

That brings Nie Mingjue up short.

“You talked to Huaisang.”

“Yes. And he had some interesting things to say, besides the fact that you have qi deviations,” Jiang Cheng says and now the nerves settle back in.

It’s one thing to have Nie Huaisang tell him that Nie Mingjue still loves him. It’s another to confront Nie Mingjue about it.

“That little rascal,” Nie Mingjue mutters under his breath. “It doesn’t matter,” he then says louder and Jiang Cheng stomach drops, though he doesn’t allow it to crush him, not like the last time they talked.

He likes to think he has grown as a person.

“Doesn’t it?”

“I am dying. You already lost so much. I’m not going to add to that,” Nie Mingjue says, though he can’t quite meet Jiang Cheng’s eyes as he does.

Jiang Cheng can even see where he’s coming from, but it doesn’t change the fact that Nie Mingjue broke his heart a year ago.

“You could have just been honest,” Jiang Cheng lowly says. “And you could let me help now.”

“What if it doesn’t work? What if we—try, all of it, and it doesn’t work?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng can see how scared he truly is.

“Then at least we tried,” Jiang Cheng says and he decides to be brave and bold and he simply steps forwards and hugs Nie Mingjue. “At least I know I tried everything I could. At least we’ll have however long the tries will give us. It’s better than nothing, than knowing we could have done something—could have been something—but didn’t dare to take that step.”

Nie Mingjue is completely rigid in his arms but Jiang Cheng is not going to let him go so easily. He believed Nie Mingjue’s lies once; he’s not going to do it again.

“Let us try,” Jiang Cheng whispers after a long moment and Nie Mingjue slumps in his arms.

“I didn’t think you’d—I wasn’t very nice,” Nie Mingjue admits and Jiang Cheng has to snort at that, because it’s a bit of an understatement.

“You broke my heart,” Jiang Cheng admits and he can feel how Nie Mingjue jerks. “It—never really mended, either. I could never forget you. I still want—” he takes a deep breath.

He didn’t realize being honest would be so difficult.

“I still love you,” he forces out, because he will not let them walk away without being honest to each other this time.

The words barely left his mouth when Nie Mingjue’s arms come up around him and crush him to his chest.

“I’m so sorry for what I said back then,” Nie Mingjue mumbles into his hair and Jiang Cheng’s knees go a little bit weak when he realizes what this means.

What Nie Mingjue feels for him.

“It hurt,” Jiang Cheng admits and Nie Mingjue makes a pained noise. “I see now why you did it, back then, even though I truly don’t like it or think it was the right decision,” Jiang Cheng says and he frowns when Nie Mingjue pushes him away.

His face goes soft when Nie Mingjue cups his cheek in his hand.

“You’ve grown so much,” Nie Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng flushes when he hears the awe in his voice. “And I love you,” Nie Mingjue tells him, before he leans in for a kiss.

Jiang Cheng falls into it—he didn’t realize how much he truly missed Nie Mingjue—but it ends all too soon.

“I will accept your help,” Nie Mingjue mumbles against his lips and Jiang Cheng huffs out a laugh.

“You better accept my courtship too, you buffoon, because I’ll not let you get away a second time,” he decides and watches as Nie Mingjue blinks at him.

“We don’t know if you can find a solution,” he cautiously says but Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter if we do or don’t,” he tells him, even though just the thought of Nie Mingjue dying is almost killing him. “I want this with you, regardless of that.”

“You’re always so much stronger than I give you credit for,” Nie Mingjue mumbles and rests their foreheads together.

“You better remember that,” Jiang Cheng warns him, because if he has to he will out-stubborn death itself for Nie Mingjue.

“I promise,” Nie Mingjue tells him and Jiang Cheng believes him.

And now that they managed to take this step, Jiang Cheng is going to make Nie Mingjue live long enough to grow tired of him.

(It never happens; they both cultivate to immortality and Nie Mingjue regularly teases Jiang Cheng that he’s still waiting for the day when he gets tired of his husband, his heart, his entire world. Jiang Cheng never really learns to handle that and he never grows out of his blush.)

Jin Zixuan courts the hell out of Jiang Yanli and decides to stay in Lotus Pier and marry in instead, since Jin Guangyao is such a perfect heir anyways. It curbs Jin Guangyao's more murderous urges. Mianmian accompanies Wangxian to the Wen establishment in Gusu and never quite leaves again before she becomes the Second Lady Wen. Wangxian still adopt A-Yuan. Xuanli still get A-Ling.

Everyone lives and no one dies because I said so.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[pennyserenade]

tags: nameless oc x javier peña, nameless oc x javier pena, angst  rating: e ( explicit ) warnings: smut, language. word count: 3k+ summary: marriage requires sacrifice; theirs takes a little more than most notes: i definitely did steal the title of this chapter from the original scenes from a marriage and you know what? i’d do it again. anyways, thanks for reading and i hope you enjoy this installment! if you want to be tagged in this series, just shoot me a message or fill out my taglist form that’s available on my masterlist (pinned post). original gif by: @javierpcna​

the art of sweeping things under the rug

scene two, scenes from a marriage 

Wedding bands can vary in weight depending on the sort of week you’re having, she finds. Conveniently light, sometimes--nearly invisible, as if intertwined with oneself--and then, impossibly dense at others. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, she tells herself, but she’s on no throne, and there is no crown. It’s just her and Javi, and the elopement that tied them together. 

The ‘70s had faded silently into the ‘80, and it’s easy to feel in love when the future looks promising. Well--maybe promising is too generous of a word for what they had felt then; perhaps uncertain is better. It wasn’t the sort of uncertain that fills one with dread either, the kind that leaves them in the dark with no flashlight. No, it was the uncertainty that felt good; the sort that made them think whatever was offered in the decade they’d not yet painted with plans was going to be great. It was promises of catching Pablo, promises of a promotion, promises of a proper marriage in the country they’d come to love in their own separate and shared ways. It was realists sharing one optimistic view in a world that seemed so void of them, and now, as she sits at the dinner table in her apartment, looking at the thin band on her finger, she wonders if they’d rushed into it

Her mother told her a mal tiempo, buena cara. In bad times, keep a good face. Just grin and bare it, wait for the uneasiness of the life they were living now to trickle into the marriage she anticipated, but she isn’t sure what sort of marriage she was anticipating. She had understood that there were going to be hardships, but she had welcomed them then because she thought they were going to be hardships they would endure together. They weren’t doing a very good job at the together. 

It isn’t that she doesn’t love him. She has an unwavering love for him, but the absence of his being in her life has begun to create a festering wound in her heart. She’s torn between asking him to never leave again—to quit it all and stay wrapped in bed with her, pretending the horrors outside of their utopia didn’t exist—and saying nothing at all. Grinning and bearing. 

He’s a good man. A great man, actually. He’s gentle, funny. A little too stressed for his own good most of the time, and a bit grumpy until he settles somewhere, but he’s exactly what she needs, and everything that could break her if he so wanted it, too. And she knows he never would want that, but she isn’t sure he knows he can either, because if he did, then he was tiptoeing dangerously close to that line. 

Sighing, she shakes her head, dismissing it all. 

The afternoon has begun to fade into the evening, and the cool summer wind blows a gentle breeze into her home. Javier said he wouldn’t be working late at the Embassy tonight, and she had told him she’d cook dinner, but the eagerness that had overtaken her then had been worn by the sight of his wedding band on her dresser. It was the thing that made hers seem so heavy. The thing that made her want to cry, really, and it was so silly, but she could not help the angry ball of frustration and confusion that formed at the sigh of it, or the way it had turned into the lump in her throat. 

She yearns for the days when it was just fucking—the way they hadn’t exchanged anything personal so nothing could be personal. She misses the way he would call her, flustered, at all hours of the night and the way she’d always open her door for him, and they’d kiss passionately and fuck roughly and explore each other over and over. 

But really, she doesn’t want that, either. She doesn’t know what she wants. 

She hears the jangle of keys, hears the latch open, but she doesn’t turn to meet him. Instead, she’s lit a cigarette, and she’s staring out the window, looking at how the sun shadows the town. She puffs away at the cigarette and he says nothing when he enters. He just throws his keys on the counter and then moves quietly over to her, hands falling to her tense shoulders. She hates the way she leans into him too; how effortlessly the anger ebbs.

She looks up at him, and he smiles gently. He looks worn, as though he’s fighting something that she won’t learn until the early hours of the morning, when he’s spent from spent from sex and the general excitement that paints all of his days. Javi is interesting in that way—not emotionally stunted, but hesitant. 

“You didn’t make dinner?” he asks while pushing her hair away from her neck, pressing his lips there quickly. He nuzzles against her for a beat, taking in her scent, feeling the warmth of her against him in gratitude. He is spent, and he’s wanted nothing more than to come here. Doesn’t even really care that she’s not made him dinner, just said it to hear her. 

“I didn’t,” she responds, more softly than she likes. Her heart is tender for him, kind naturally because his being warrants it. She wants to yell, but she can’t because she loves him so goddamn much. 

“S’okay,” he mumbles. Javi moves away from her, slipping off his jacket and sitting it on the chair. “We can order something later if you want.”

She nods, putting out the cigarette. “When do you have to go back in?”

“Six tomorrow morning. What about you?”

“I took tomorrow off.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “¿Por qué?” 

“Because,” she shrugs. “Only so much depressing material you can write until it starts to wear you down.”

“You know I said—“

She cuts him off. “I don’t want to live off your paycheck. I know what you said but I’m happy doing what I do. Just—“ she pauses, struggling to think. “—not all of us can give our lives over to the cause all the time.”

She meant that, meant that entirely, and knows he feels it by the way his features settle into a look of pure nothingness. Stoned face, giving nothing. She’s sorry for it, but can’t say it. He doesn’t ask for her to. 

“Cruelty doesn’t look so good on you, baby,” he tries to tease, but it comes out flat and serious. She bites at her lip, and turns her head to the window, back to the city, trying not to cry. 

“Are you angry with me?” 

He’s a good detective, isn’t he?

“Javi, I don’t want to fight.” 

“You are angry with me.”

She sighs heavily. “No, I’m not.”

“You are, and I wish you’d just say why.”

“It doesn’t even matter, Javi,” she dismisses it with a simple shrug of her shoulders. “You’ve been at work all day and—“

“Is it because I work so much?” he interrupts. 

“Goddamnit, Javier, I’m not fucking angry with you!” she shouts. Shouts like she is angry with him. Silence ensues and she wants to crawl in a hole and disappear completely. 

“You left your wedding ring,” she admits quietly, half out of remorse, half because she can’t stand the way he’s looked down at the table and not looked back up. Or how he sits like he’s torn between fleeing and staying. “But it really doesn’t matter, and I don’t know why it bothers me so much because I know you...you don’t mean to hurt me.”

“No,” he shakes his head. He still does not look at her, focusing on a line in the table. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Javi, I said it didn’t matter.”

“But it does.” He finally looks up. “It matters if it makes you angry with me. I left it because I forgot, that’s all.”

“I said it doesn’t matter.”

“You never fucking fight me.”

“There’s no reason for it,” she replies. 

“There is reason for it.” 

“Javi, please. I don’t get you for very long and this is not how I want to spend it.”

“Stop doing that.” 

“What?” Confusion paints her features. 

“Running from it. Fight with me.”

“Why do you want to fight so fucking bad? When you’d turn into such a fucking masochist.”

She feels that lump in her throat again, feels the way it wants to give way and lets it all go the way he’s requesting. Fills the bitterness creep into her system the way she hates. 

“I’m not a masochist,” he replies, “You’ve obviously got shit to say, so say it.”

“Fuck you, Javi,” she chokes, blinking back tears now. She definitely did not want this. 

She gets up to move, but he grasps onto her wrist. 

“Don’t run away,” he repeats. He’s angry too. 

“Let me go,” she spits out spitefully. He has such a loose hold on her that she doesn’t even need his permission to escape from it, but it’s the concept more than anything. He does let go, but she doesn’t move. 

“I didn’t want to fight with you.” 

Her cheeks begin to heat with anger, and it’s the worst sort of anger, the kind that makes her sob because she can’t contain it. It’s an anger that feels unfair, and she can never beat it; the tears begin to fall rapidly. 

Sympathy tugs at his heart; his steely resolution falls as quickly as it has come up. “I know,” he acknowledges. “We’ve got to fight, sometimes, though.”

“I know, but I don’t want to. I only see you two days a week and I don’t want to spend one of them yelling at you,” she confesses. “All I want you, Javi. Is that so much to ask?”

It’s his turn for shame to fill him. He knows why that can’t be—knows it’s because there’s things she can’t know and having her in a building full of DEA agents comprises the both of them. She’s in danger just wearing that wedding band on her finger; God forbid any of those fucking narcs ever found out they were married. He shouldn’t have done it, married her, but he could not help it; a sort of selfishness that was not uncharacteristic had pushed the boundaries within him, and he decided the good outweighed the bad. But, maybe it didn’t. 

He stands and envelops her frame in a hug. She sighs into his chest and wraps her arms tightly around him. She only wants to make him happy and to be happy with him. Why did it seem so hard? When this all began, it felt so easy, so nice and now it felt hard. 

Javier kisses her softly, just a peck and she feels lighter because of it. As he goes to pull away, she pulls him closer again, pressing their lips together. He responds, a hand resting on her hip and the other on the small of her back, holding her against him. She initiates a deeper kiss, swiping her tongue against his lower lip. They stand like this for a few minutes, kissing and basking in the presence of each other the way they’d both desired. 

It is Javi who pulls back from their kiss, needing air and wanting to take it further—just not here. In the beginning of their relationship, when it was just fucking, sex felt something they had to do everywhere; on the couch, on the table, on the counter, in the shower, on the ground, even in front of the window. And they still did that, still let spontaneity sway them, but they’d settled into more comfortable routines too. He liked fucking her in their bed, the one thing they always agreed was undeniably both of theirs wherever it resided. It was their bed so as long as they both fell there to sleep. 

He doesn’t even have to speak, just nods his head in the general direction, before she’s tugging him along. 

She sits down on the bed and peers up at him, eyes still red from the tears. He feels awful about it, but doesn’t have it in him to say it. Can’t, for some reason. It’s lost between his brain and his tongue, but it finds its way out through the gentle way he presses her onto her back and lets his lips kiss her everywhere. He kisses her face, her lips, then her neck, and then he goes further, pushing her shirt up and pressing his plush lips against the newly exposed flesh. Then he then he’s undoing her pants, kissing the spot where her panties usually begin. He offers her a mischievous grin, and she smiles back at him. 

“You really didn’t want to fight, did you?” 

She shakes her head. “No, you fuck, I didn’t,” she laughs. 

He continues his trail down her body, and she lifts her hips so he can remove her pants. Javier presses his lips on her hips, on the flesh directly above the pubic bone. Then, he presses them on the inside of her thighs, teasingly slow when he gets closer to her core, and she whines out of protest when he spots. Her eyes flicker down to see why, and when her eyes met his, he presses his tongue against her clit. A moan escapes her and she grasps onto the bedspread. Javi is encouraged by this, swiping his tongue against her folds, dipping his tongue into her, tasting her—really, truly admiring every part of her—before pressing his tongue back onto her clit. He begins to suck gently, and she writhes without control beneath him. A trained expert at this now, he anchors her down by wrapping an arm around each thigh, holding them in place. 

“Javi—“ she manages to say, just as the tension begins to build in her stomach. “Oh Javi, baby, faster.” 

He obliges and she is quick to find her release in a matter of seconds. Javi remains in between her thighs, licking up her arousal. He’s gotten good at this, knows the way she likes it, knows how to do it even when she can’t tell him.

She carts a hand through his hair, tugging gently, and he removes his lips from her finally. Despite her worn state, she’s quick to rise and meet him, uncaring about her arousal on his face as she presses their lips together once more. He kisses her back with more need than he previously had, his jeans feel tighter and more constricting than usual. 

“I want to ride you,” she whispers against his lips, and he nods eagerly. Her fingers work at his belt, and then the button of his jeans, hardly making it past the zipper before she slides her hand into his pants and palms his already hard member. He winces against her lips and she can’t help but grin; this is her Javi. This is the marriage she wants. 

“Te amo,” she says, beginning to tug at his jeans. He assists her, pushing them down all the way. 

“Take off your shirt,” he demands, tugging at the fabric. She obeys him, throwing the shirt in the same place his pants fell, before he tugs her closer to him. A gasp falls from her lips as she mounts him, the warmth of his length agonizing so close to her heat. She reaches between them, lining his cock up to her entrance. Eyes connect as she fills herself with him, and his mouth falls open, desperate to moan but too choked by the feeling of her around him. She moves slowly, not wanting to release the warmth of him yet in favor of forming a steady pace to ride him. Javi, however, is growing increasingly aroused beneath her, and can’t help the way he guides her on his cock. “Please,” he begs, brown eyes dark with desire. She nods, and they move together, her hips following his hands instructions. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out, watching the way he slides in and out of her. “I’m not going to last much longer, baby.”

Distracted by her own desire, she merely nods his confession, grinding herself on him until she fills the beginnings of another  orgasm, the sweet release inches away. He doesn’t lift her from himself now, wanting to savor this feeling for a few moments longer. “Te amo,” he finally responds back, a deep groan releasing at the way she squeezes around him. She grinds against him, and he lets her, allowing his finger to undo the bra they’d both been too eager to take off as she does. It falls slowly down her chest, and as soon as it exposes her nipple, he’s quick to wrap his mouth around it. This earns a throaty moan from her, and she swears her orgasm isn’t ever going to end. 

He pulls the fabric down her arms completely before turning them over, never leaving her once. He is desperate now, denied his orgasm too long, and the heat is pooling viciously in his stomach. He thrusts roughly into her, a whine emitting from her lips when he does, but she lifts her hips to meet him the second time he does it. 

“Faster, baby,” she encourages, and he presses his fingers into her hips so hard that he’s certain the skin will bruise as he thrusts into her for the last time. 

He slides out of her, and with a few more rough tugs on his cock, he’s releasing on her stomach. He wants to lay beside her, flat and lifeless as his lugs play catch up (it’s the fucking cigarettes, but he can’t stop them), but he resists the urge. He leans towards the bed stand and grabs a handful of tissues, wiping himself and her clean of his cum. She lays still, watching him intently, a soft, appreciative smile embedding in her features. 

“I miss you a lot, you know,” she says. He throws the tissues away in the bin across the room, and she takes in his frame; admires the way his back looks, the broadness of his shoulders, even his ass. He’s a good looking man, on top of everything, and she’s happy to be his wife. She just wishes it was easier. 

“I do know. I miss you too.”

He slides back into bed, uncaring of his nakedness, and she uncaring of hers. He pulls her bare body against him, and she wraps a leg around her hip. She traces his lips with her finger and he takes her hand, kissing the palm of it. 

He loves her, loves her so goddamn much that the guilt of the wedding ring on her dresser eats away at him. It bites and bites because the way he’s so casually lied about why he left it, acted as if it wasn’t deliberate. Doesn’t want to tell he’s afraid they’ll find out if he doesn’t, doesn’t want to have to worry about if she’s okay anymore than he does already. He calls her every night, checks in at the same time so he knows nothing is wrong, and she knows he does this, but there’s a thousand things she doesn’t see. A thousand things he doesn’t want her to see, either, like the way he left the wedding band because he’s afraid or the way he drives past her house every night before he goes to his, just to ensure it’s still there, even though he knows it is. Doesn’t want her to see the anxiety that fills him every time he hears about a bombing or the way he can’t sleep when he goes away. He wants their marriage to be perfectly normal, wants it all to be perfectly normal. Colombia deserves to be a country where marriages don’t feel this hard, and that’s all he wants to give her, but he can’t. 

As she lays against him, she can feel the tension in his body, knowing by the way he holds her a little too firmly that he’s thinking about something. She wants to ask about what, but she doesn’t want to spoil the moment. 

They’ve both become experts at sweeping things under the rug—at sacrificing—and neither of them knows whether it’s good or not, but they’ll continue to do it. Lie causally in order to protect, not address the pain and disorder, just for moments like this, moments that feel entirely like their own. Moments that make them feel married and dedicated to one another. 

This is scene two from a marriage.

tagged: @filthybookworm​ 

[qqueenofhades]

9. Lost in the forest fivan (happy end please)!

9. Lost in the Forest

"Well," Fedyor Kaminsky announces, stopping short with a disgusted look on his face. "No doubt about it, we're definitely lost. Good job, Sakharov. So much for being General Kirigan's favorite, huh?"

A waspish retort leaps to Ivan's lips by habit, as both teenage Heartrenders, tall and gawky in their training keftas, come to an uncertain halt under the glowering canopy of the endless trees and try to fix their bearings. Yes, it was Ivan's job to navigate them back, and yes, he may have been distracted enough by stubbornly proving that he really doesn't like Fedyor Kaminsky that he, uh, missed a few important signs, but he does not see how that is presently relevant. They shouldn't have been paired up anyway. They've had this stupid chest-beating juvenile rivalry ever since Fedyor put Ivan on his back in the training yard five years ago, and he had to endure a deeply unwelcome diminishment of his status as the scariest and toughest recruit of the entire bunch. Why would this work?

(Possibly, Ivan thinks, they have been put together for this exact reason: to come back to Os Alta alive and pledged to work together like real Grisha, or to kill each other in the forest and finally put the rest of the Little Palace out of its misery. He ignores it.)

"Stop walking. Idiot." Ivan hurries up and grabs Fedyor by the sleeve, pulling him to a halt. Their lantern is a very small spark against the endless dark, and they glance warily to every side, listening for the heartbeats of bears or wolves or just simple human poachers, seeing a couple of lost city boys as an easy mark. (Ivan is not a city boy, thanks very much; he is from Chernast. But criminals would probably not stop to enquire about his civic origin before violently mugging him, or at least attempting to. Saints, he hates this so much.)

Fedyor glares at him, chin set in that feisty way that Ivan does not at all notice and is not in the least affected by. "Fine then, Saint Grigori the Genius, what's your plan?"

"I just told you. Stop moving. You keep walking when you're lost, you get more lost." Ivan maintains his grip on Fedyor's arm. "We should stay here and find our way back when it's light."

A muscle in Fedyor's cheek twitches. "Spend the night together?"

"Not like that," Ivan snaps, although it is, sort of, like that. "Do you even know how to build a fire, or -- ?"

"Yes, thanks very much." Fedyor folds his arms. "In fact, since you got us into this mess, we should appoint me to get out of it."

"Not likely." Ivan tangles his long hair into a ponytail and ties the thong, continuing to glare at the other boy. Nobody who is that handsome should also be that smug. (Wait, no, that's not what he meant. Or is it? Fuck, he is just moving into this forest and living here as a hermit forever.) "You would just -- "

He can't think of what Fedyor would screw up, but it would be something for sure. Still bickering incessantly, they collect kindling for a campfire, jostle each other out of the way to light it, and sit down, shoulders brushing, in a way that sends an even more unnerving shiver through Ivan's body. Fedyor is -- he's annoying, that's all, with that dark hair and those dimples and that flashing smile and the way everyone seems to adore him and he's a chattering, charming, vivacious bundle of sunlight and talent and he just... he definitely wouldn't like Ivan Sakharov, undisputed champion of glowering and sitting sullenly in corners by himself while everyone else has a good time. And that's even more annoying, and that --

With a jolt, Ivan cuts off this train of thought at the pass, holds out his hands over the fire, and very determinedly does not look at his companion. As the cold wind blows, Fedyor edges closer, as if expecting to be asked to snuggle for warmth. He is a devious little demon. Ivan will not play his stupid games. He will not.

"You know," Fedyor says, after a long pause. He sounds like he's biting his cheek. "I am aware that you like me."

"What?" Ivan almost falls off the log trying to get away from him. "What would you -- I don't! I don't like you! Why would you even -- "

"And we," Fedyor points out, with magnificent patience, "are both Heartrenders. Your heart has been pounding this whole time -- every time you look at me, in fact -- and I don't think it's just because you're so angry. Also, you were hot and bothered even before we got this fire started, so..." He shrugs. "We've got time to discuss this."

"Shut up," Ivan says, running a finger under his collar. He is going to get up and run directly back to the Little Palace, dark woods or no dark woods. "You're making things up. You're crazy. Go away."

Fedyor folds his arms again. He waits. Ivan continues to panic.

At last, when it appears that either one of them has to say something or Ivan's head will literally blow off, Fedyor sighs and slides off the log, curling up in the leaf mold. "I'm going to sleep," he says. "You're welcome to sit there having an existential crisis all night, or you can come here and join me. So..." He shrugs, a little too casually. "It's your choice, but I know what I would do."

Ivan continues to sit on the log, shivering and doing his best to modulate his own body temperature. What is Fedyor playing at? They're Heartrenders, they obviously don't need to snuggle for warmth, this is the most transparent ploy in the history of --

Ivan sits there.

The moon rises.

Ivan sits there.

The wind comes up.

Ivan sits there. Ivan sits there. Ivan --

Ivan gets off the goddamned log in an almighty fury, slides down next to Fedyor, and wraps him in his arms as if attempting to break his spine. "When we get back," he mutters, "I am going to murder you."

"Oh?" Fedyor wriggles around to face him, eyes dark and glittering and stunning in the starlight, and grins. "Why not now?"

And Ivan -- Ivan doesn't really have a good answer to that. In fact, he has never had a good answer to that. And Ivan doesn't really want to be anywhere else then where he is right now, and that --

Ah, shit.

(The knowing looks when they finally make it back to Os Alta the next afternoon, leaves in their hair, twigs in their keftas, and stupid smiles on their faces, are the worst.)

[spooky season fic prompts]

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 5- It’s All Good, Mostly

Bucky Barnes x (f)reader Series Rewrite (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary : After dealing with the Winter Soldier and getting your shit rocked. You, Sam, and Steve with an unconscious Bucky, are deciding on what to do next.

Warning: angst, fluffy moments shoved in here

Masterlist

After making a hasty escape to an abandoned dying old warehouse in Berlin, you helped Steve pin Bucky’s metal arm to a steel compressor in hopes that once he woke up, he’d be your Bucky again.

Who knows how deep Hydra’s talons are pierced into him?

Listening to the dull roaring of a search helicopter in the near distance, you lean against the wide garage doorframe separating the room Bucky’s in from the rest of the cavernous steel warehouse. A deep frown staining your features as you study his sleeping form that’s slumped over a wooden box while his body leans against the steel contraption.

The man who joined your little chaotic trio stands on guard a couple feet behind you as Steve keeps watch over by the buildings entrance that’s decently close to the rest of you. So far you’ve all been here for about forty minutes by now, keeping to yourself as you protectively watch over Bucky while he dries from his dip in the river with Steve and that broken helicopter.

“You’re Y/N, right?” Inquirers Sam from behind you; blinking tiredly, you slowly turn around while keeping your back leaned against the wall of the large doorframe.

Arms folded and appearing less then enthusiastic, you nod in acknowledgment, “That’s me.”

Revealing a friendly smile, he looks at the ground before meeting your stoic gaze, “Been a rough couple of days, huh.” Muses Sam in an attempt at lightening up the mood.

“Been a rough couple of decades.” You bluntly retort back before closing your eyes and leaning your weary head against the wall.

Sam mouths a silent “oh, right” before folding his arms together and clearing his throat, apparently he’s not done, “So, uh...I’m not trying to be weird or anything, but uh....last time I saw you. You were laying on the ground dead, blood trailing out from your head....unless my eyes are playing with me.” Explains Sam before letting out a nervous chuckle, “Or you’re actually a ghost.”

Opening your eyes, you shift your gaze over to Sam, “I was, yes.....well, technically I wasn’t actually dead, my heartbeat just slows dramatically while my body heals together again. ” He stops smiling as you shrug, “Regeneration. I can heal quickly.”

Mouth forming a surprised O, he nods, “Damn. Aren’t you just full of surprises.” Jokes Sam as you crack the tiniest of amused smiles.

“Keeps me moving.”

For a few moments you get uninterrupted peace before he decides to start up another conversation, much to your already agitated state. Though this time his voice is more serious as he takes a step closer to your side, “He must mean an awful lot to you if you’re willing to follow him this far.”

Returning your somber gaze back onto Bucky, you sigh, “I knew him when I worked for Hydra, he was my partner for many missions over the decades.” Sam’s dark eyes flash over to you in curiosity as you continue, “After the fall of Hydra, I searched for him for a little while. Clearly my efforts were not in vain. And now, after all this time.....I can admit freely that I love him.”

Sam’s brows raise in surprise at this spout of news, he had no idea you and Bucky were anything like that, “Huh.....well uh, sorry all this happened to you two.”

You shrug while throwing him a friendly half smile, eyes softening as you look at Bucky, “As long as he’s alive and I keep my freedom. I don’t care what happens. I’m done with the people of this world, we’re both done with them.”

“The worlds not done with you two just yet.” Adds Sam with a concerned fatherly tone.

You sigh, “So it would seem.”

A moment later Bucky stirs, his head bobs slowly upward as he takes in a deep breath, blue eyes opening before turning left to look at the steel contraption holding his arm in place; Sam yells for Steve as you walk closer to Bucky.

Quickly, Steve and Sam arrive right after you, your brows furrow in anxious concern as Bucky keeps tiredly slumped over while seated on the smallish wooden crate. His eyes find yours as he looks to the ground again before muttering a raspy, “Y/N.” Causing a spark of hope to ignite inside your heart.

Steve stands to your left, suspiciously eyeing up his old friend, “Which Bucky are we talking to?”

Bucky blinks in thought for a short moment before an adorable smile tugs at the corners of his plush lips, “You’re moms name was Sarah.” He pauses for another small second as a larger smile reveals itself freely now, “You used to wear newspapers in your shoes.”

Listening to your lover genuinely chuckle at a fond memory from so long ago fills your soul with happiness. Steve shares a relieved glance with you, gaze quickly returning back to Bucky, “Can’t read that in a museum.” You quip with a smile.

“Just like that, we’re supposed to be cool?” Doubts Sam, still a bit unconvinced and full of cautious reluctance from the wild beat down him, you, and Steve endured to get Bucky here safely and in one piece.

Pursing his lips together, Bucky’s shadowed eyes search for yours, “What did I do?” He hesitantly mutters, greatly dreading that answer.

“Enough.” Quickly answers Steve.

Bucky shuts his eyes tight before lowering his head in shame, “Oh, God, I knew this would happen.” Mumbles your lover as his head comes back up to meet the three of you, “Everything Hydra put inside me is still there. All he had to do was say the goddamn words.”

Biting your lip anxiously, you dread what he might ask you soon enough, then just as expected he does just that; eyes finding yours, Bucky’s face reveals a deep frown, “Y/N. How did we get out.”

Suddenly you feel rather small as the three men turn curious yet wary glances in your direction; Sam knows and Steve have an assumption, but Bucky doesn’t know the gory details. Shifting uncomfortably, you train your eyes on the floor, “Not important.”

Looking like he’s about to protest for an answer, Steve suddenly speaks up to break the tension, “Who was he?” Referring to the man who caused all of this.

“I don’t know.”

“People are dead. The bombing, the setup....the doctor did all that just to get 10 minutes with you. I need you to do better than “I don’t know”. Presses Steve as Bucky’s face shifts into concentrated thought.

“He wanted to know about Siberia. Where I was kept. He wanted to know exactly where.” Explains Bucky as his eyes flash over to yours, it wasn’t just him they kept locked away under the ice.

Steve’s brows furrow in puzzlement, “Why would he need to know that?”

Hugging your sides, you hum, giving Steve a dreadful knowing look, “Because he’s not the only Winter Soldier.”

——

Leaning on the white, paint chipped wall to Bucky’s right, he sits on the wooden box with his hands laced together. Steve against the wall in front of him, arms crossed and a hard expression adorning his dirt smudged features, “Who were they?”

“They’re most elite death squad. More kills second to only one in all of Hydra’s history.” Admits Bucky with an unenthusiastic sigh, “And that was before the serum.”

“Who was the first?” Asks Steve.

“Me.” You begrudgingly mutter as the three boys look over to you, all expressing various shades of interest, pity, fear, and amazement. Yeah you’re not proud about it either.

Noticing the building awkwardness, and how your eyes stare daggers at the dirty floor, Sam joins the conversation, “They all turn out like you?” Eyes set on Bucky.

Sighing, Bucky looks at nothing particularly interesting to his left, “Worse.”

“The doctor, could he control them?” Wonders Steve.

Eyes shifting back down to the floor, Bucky mutters, “Enough.”

“Said he wanted to see an empire fall.” Says Steve, reciting the doctors words as he tries to think up why.

“With these guys he could do it.” You add after a brief moment, “They speak thirty languages, can hide in plain sight....infiltrated, assassinate, destabilize. They could take a whole country down in one night, you’d never see them coming.”

Bucky nods in silent agreement as Steve weighs the options while Sam wanders over to his side, “This would have been a lot easier a week ago.” He whispers, though you can still hear them anyway.

“If we call Tony...” Quietly suggests Steve.

“No he won’t believe us.”

“Even if he did...”

“Who knows if the Accords would let him help.” Finishes Sam.

The two men stand silently for a moment, thinking hard about the right course of action as their brows furrow thoughtfully before Steve whispers a half defeated, “We’re on our own.”

Sam then gives him a positive look, “Maybe not.” As Steve sends him a doubtful glance while Sam simply smirks with a knowing tilt of his head, “I know a guy.”

——

Standing in an old run down junk yard on the far outskirts of Berlin, your back pressed against an old milk truck as Steve and Sam search for a useable car that can hold two super soldiers, an ex military pilot, and a grumpy sixty two year old assassin.

Bucky wanders away from their bickering and slowly walks over to you as your gaze stays firmly trained onto the gravelly earth below. Soon enough his dark shoes are blocking your staring contest with the ground, “Y/N please talk to me.” Pleads Bucky as you gingerly raise your gaze to meet his soft one, “Tell me what’s wrong. Please? I know that look, something happened while I was him didn’t it?”

Biting your lower lip anxiously, you breath a heavy sigh before weakly shrugging, “I don’t wanna talk about it. You’re not exactly gonna like it.”

Understanding the warning and how noticeably uncomfortable you are, Bucky frowns, though he reaches his hands to gently touch your tense shoulders anyway, “It doesn’t matter. We tell each other everything, promise?”

Staring into his soft gaze with the tiniest bit of hope, you reluctantly nod as he trails his hands down your arms to gently grasp your shaking fingers with his, huh, you didn’t even notice you were shaking. You swallow thickly before giving his hands a reassuring squeeze, “When the doctor got into your head....no matter how much I screamed and begged him to stop, or you to snap out of it. Nothing worked. You broke out of the glass cage and then I broke out of mine, then uh..” You pause a moment, swallowing nervously before whispering, “...the doctor ordered you to kill me.”

Bucky’s eyes immediately sadden as you share a weak smile before continuing on, “I couldn’t kill you. Even though I had the chance to....I couldn’t. But the Winter Soldier wouldn’t stop unless I did. So I let him think you killed me.” You watch as his lip quivers, heart thudding rapidly in his chest as he looks down at the earth in shame and regret. So much hate for what he had done even if he doesn’t remember anything.

Witnessing him deal with this heavy news breaks your heart in two, ripping your hands from his, he’s instantly caught in a huge bear hug from you. Quickly his strong arms wrap protectively around your waist as he pulls you into his chest, “I’m so sorry Y/N. I’m so so sorry.” Mumbles Bucky against your shoulder as he buries his face in your neck.

“It was the only way. You would have done the same if you were in my shoes. No hard feelings okay Buck, I love you and that’s all that matters.”

Suddenly he pulls away from your neck to gaze lovingly into your dreary yet beautiful eyes, raspy voice above a whisper, “You love me?” He asks in astonishment, a small smile tugging at the corners of his kissable pink lips.

Breaking out into a beaming grin, you slowly nod, “Of course I do. Guess I should have told you before all this shit happened.....didn’t find the time.”

Chuckling, Bucky presses his forehead flush with yours, “Y/N, I love you so fucking much.” Reveals your lover before swiftly pulling you in for a heated embrace.

His lips move masterfully against your own in the bright mid sun of the day, bringing a sense of great joy and warmth bursting into your chest as he kisses you with the love of a thousand beautiful moons in the starry night sky. But all too soon are you interrupted by the sudden whistle from Sam as he steals away this brief affectionate moment.

Breaking from the kiss, you and Bucky turn to face the irritating man as he smiles a bright satisfied grin, “Come on you two love birds, we found a keeper out back!” Before beckoning you both over with an enthusiastically dramatic wave of his hands.

Holding tightly onto Bucky, you practically growl, “I’m gonna break his arm.”

Quickly turning to face you he hums, “We’re wanted criminals remember, no breaking anyone. Got it.” Snickers Bucky cheekily as you lightly peck his cheek.

“What’s another thing added to the list?” You muse before letting him go and walking towards wherever Steve and Sam are, Bucky following close behind.

——

Seated to Bucky’s immediate left, shoulders smooshed against each other, you make a face as Steve and the blonde woman Sharon, get out of their respective vehicles. Eyes flickering over to Sam, who’s conveniently seated in the passenger seat, you frown in annoyance, “You’d think we could have gotten a bigger car.”

“It’s all they had.” Replies Sam with the ghost of a humored smile as he watches the two blondes stand beside one another while Sharon pops open the trunk to reveal his suit and Steve’s shield.

“I could have just stolen a bigger car.” You mutter to yourself as Bucky stifles a laugh.

More long moments go by, causing you to shift uncomfortably as you hopelessly try to find a suitable position in the cramped ugly old blue buggy. Noticing your discomfort and his own for that matter, Bucky stares at the back of Sam’s head, “Can you move your seat up?”

“No.” Deadpans Sam while you throw him a glare through the side mirror. Huffing in irritation, you shuffle closer to the left door as Bucky shifts a bit for some more leg room; Sam no doubt absolutely loving this.

Rolling your eyes, the three of you continue watching Steve and Sharon talk about whatever happens to be important at the moment, soon they stop and give each other an unsure look before Steve randomly pulls her in for a smooch. Your brows immediately raise in surprise while Sam and Bucky give him proud brotherly smiles when he looks back at the buggy. Face falling in slight embarrassment for being caught.

Soon after he drives the three of you to some airport parking garage, the ride goes decently smooth with the exception of being practically squashed between the car door and Bucky’s beefy ass. Rolling past a white van, Steve parks the little buggy about two parking spaces away before everyone files out.

You watch as he walks over to greet a man as a brunette woman accompanies his left side; your eyes travel cautiously between the two as you seat yourself on the edge of the buggy’s roof while Bucky leans his elbows against the top near your one hand placed there for support.

Soon the first man opens up the sliding van door to reveal a dark haired guy who immediately flinches and awakens with a start. He squints at the intrusion of sunlight before slowly making his way out of the vans door, “What time zone is this?” He questions, obviously dealing with some sort of jet lag.

The first guy nods towards Steve, “Come on. Come on.” Pushing him towards the one and only....

“Captain America!” Softly exclaims the man in excitement, eyes bright with bewilderment as he quickly shakes hands with Steve who mutters, “Mr. Lang.” In acknowledgment.

“It’s an honor.” Says this Lang guy while he continues to excessively shake his hand, “I’m shaking your hand to long. Wow! This is awesome!” Mr. Lang pulls away before pointing at Steve while he turns to the first man and the brunette, “Captain America. Hey, I know you, too. You’re great!” The woman hands him a bright pursed lip grin as Mr. Lang turns back to Steve.

“Jeez. Ah, look, I wanna say, I don’t know a lot of super people, so....thinks for thanking of me.” He quickly mutters with those exact words, a second later his eyes shift over to Sam, “Hey, man!”

Sam nods, “What’s up, Tic Tac?”

“Uh, good to see you. Look, what happened last time when I...”

“It was a great audition, but it’ll never happen again.” Muses Sam as you look over your shoulder to send Bucky a curious look that is well returned.

“They tell you what we’re up against?” Interjects Steve, bringing the central objective back on the table.

Mr. Lang’s brows furrow in thought as he mutters, “Something about some psycho-assassins?” Yeah, that’s one way to put it.

“We’re outside the law on this one. So if you come with us, you’re a wanted man.” Warns Steve.

Mr. Lang shrugs, “Yeah, well, what else is new?”

“We should get moving.” Urges Bucky as you nod.

The first man speaks up again, “We got a chopper lined up.”

Suddenly warning sirens sound out loudly throughout the airport as a German voice advises everyone to leave the premises immediately; understanding exactly what’s being said you gain everyone’s attention, “They’re evacuating the airport.”

Their faces show deep concern, as they turns to face one another, “Stark.”

“Stark?” Questions Sam.

Steve reluctantly nods before addressing the rest of the team, “Suit up.”

-

Tagged: @diegos-butt​   @minigranger​  @bibliophilewednesday​ @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94