#sorry not sorry for the watermarks- gotta protect my work one way or another

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

Dirty Deeds (Done Dirt Cheap) - Part 11

Summary: Sam inherits Steve Roger's crime empire after a handful of his men betray and kill him. The rest of the crime world, sensing an opening, go after Sam and the territories he's inherited from Steve. Thankfully, Steve left him a number, someone to call if he ever needs help. Someone, Steve claimed, he can trust. But can Sam really trust a mercenary with that much blood on his name? And that many knives in his pockets.

WARNINGS: (there will eventually be all of these things) blood, violence, murder, shooting, stabbing, sex, blood play , food related things: malnutrition, feeding, blow jobs, bathing/washing, chronic pain.

18+ Content: Make Good Choices Kids <3

Ao3

Sam was going crazy. Cooped up in this fucking house. And sure, the house was big, really big. There was a fucking bowling alley downstairs for fucks sake. But he'd been stuck here. Not able to leave. And his skin was starting to itch. He'd been Steve's eyes in the neighborhood, always out in the streets, mingling. He was a people person. And now he was stuck inside, with only a handful of people. His only visitor an annoying mercenary with an insubordinate streak a mile fucking long.

Sam rubbed as his temple and stood up, pausing, not sure exactly where he was intending to go. He flexed his hand, the bruise there staining his knuckles. He sighed and moved around his desk, walking out the door and down the hall. He might as well get in his daily laps while he was sitting around doing nothing. He trotted down the flight of stairs behind the kitchen, down to the pool. A bowling alley, an Olympic size swimming pool, what more could he want.

He changed in the locker room and dove in. Swimming lap after lap as he tried to calm his racing throughts. He just wanted everything to go back to the way it was before. Steve in charge. Him making the rounds to the businesses, chatting with all their friends and contacts. He paused to take a breath, holding onto the edge of the pool. He'd sent people to check on them, to make sure they were okay after everything.

A few of them had already been taken by other families. They'd whispered their apologies in back allies and then scurried away, in fear for their livelihoods and their familes no doubt. Sam needed this plan to go smoothly. He needed this shit to end. So he could lay some ground work and get his people back. He still didn't trust Bucky. Not really. He was efficient. And he was loyal. But he was loyal to Steve. And Sam wasn't Steve. Never would be.

He pushed off the wall and dove under again, letting the water move agaisnt his skin as he swam, thinking about how easy it had been to corral them all. Steve had watermarks in his desk, watermarks from all the other families. It was easier to manipulate people when they thought someone else was doing it. He'd sent letters. To each family. From each other. Requesting a gathering, to make plans. Plans to get rid of that unworthy inheritor that had been given Steve's empire.

He smiled to himself as he swam. The best thing about letters like that, was that no one responded to them. Not ever. They never wanted to leave more of a trail than they had to.

Sam swam a few more laps and then lay back in the water. Staring at the ceiling as his heartrate slowed. He sighed deeply and then climbed out of the pool, grabbing his towel and patting at his face. His phone buzzed against the concrete floor. Sam looked down and saw his sisters name lighting up his phone, his stomach twisted. He draped his towel over his shoulders and grabbed his phone, sliding his finger across the screen and pressing it too his ear.

"Unbelievable." Sarah's voice says, and he can hear the anger through the phone.

"I'm fine Sarah." He sighs.

"You're fine? Oh you're fine! Praise be! He's fine everyone! Sam Wilson is fine!" The dramatics make him smile though he knows she's angry.

"I am fine. You got my text didn't you?" Sam asks, and starts pacing.

"Yes. I got your text. 'I'm okay. Don't worry.' That text? That you sent me as I watched them carry body after body out of that goddforsaken house." She nearly growled. Sam grimaced.

"Yeah. That text." He said.

"Yeah. I got that text." She said, her voice low.

"Look, I'm sorry okay? I know I should have called. It's just- things have been a little crazy here." He sighs, his feet moving him back and forth across the floor. He rubs at the back of his neck.

"People have been watching me. I can't even leave this fucking house! And I didn't wanna risk calling you. Okay?" He asks, pleading with his sister. He knows she's never agreed with what he does, but she never fully disowned him. They talk once a month. A monthly phone call is what she gives him, and he takes it. He hears her take a deep breath and let it out, can see her trying to get herself under control.

"But you're okay? Really?" She asks, sounding more concerned than angery now.

"Yes. Mostly. I will be. I- you don't like to hear about it. But I'll be fine soon." He says, trying not say anything she doesn't want to hear.

"Okay. But Sam. Something ever happens like that again. You call me." She says, the anger is back, but it's... different. Familial. Sam smiles into the phone.

"Yes Ma'am." He says, and Sarah laughs, easing the tension in Sam's shoulders.

"How are the boys?" Sam asks, crossing his free arm over his chest.

"They're great. They're at school right now. But they told me to tell you hi before they left. Cass wanted me to tell you he got first at the science fair. And AJ won a writing competition, got his poem in the town newspaper and everything." She chuckles, Sam can see her shaking her head, but he hears the pride in her voice, and feels it swelling in his own chest.

"That's amazing. Tell them I'm proud. Of both of them." He says, and he knows he sounds sad.

"I will. Of course I will." Sarah says.

"You're doing great with them." He says after a moment. And she laughs again.

"I know." She says.

"But thank you." And he hears the smile again.

"You won't be able to come visit for Christmas will you?" She asks, sadness tinting her voice now. Sam closes his eyes, lets his head fall back. It's the only time he sees them in person all year.

"No. I don't think so. There's... too much, going on. I wouldn't feel safe." He says, shaking his head, wishing he could reach out and touch her, hug her. He misses them all so much.

"Okay. I just needed to know so I could tell the boys. I already kind of assumed. Mentioned you might not be able to make it." She says, and he hears her sniffle. Feels his throat burning.

"Tell them I'm sorry. I just-" he takes a deep breath, trying to force his throat to open.

"I need to know you're safe. All of you. I can't risk it." He says.

"I know. Sam I know that. Don't think I don't know what you do for this family. I may not agree with everything you do. But I know you're a good man. You always have been." She's quick to reasure him. Sam feels that ever present stab of guilt.

"Sarah." He says.

"I'm sorry. For everything. I'm just- I'm just so sorry." Sam says, as the burning in his eyes runs over, hot tears dripping down his face.

"I know baby brother. We're all just out here trying to survive." She says. Sam smiles, their parents words sounding so right echoing through her.

"Yeah. Some days are just harder than others." He continues the well worn conversations.

"Alway were." She says, and he can hear her smiling again.

"Always will be." Sam finishes, both of them laughing now. Sam hears footsteps behind him and wipes at his face before turning around. He sees Torres standing by the door. The kids gives him a little wave and then steps back outside. Sam sighs.

"Sarah-"

"I know that tone." She cuts him off.

"You gotta go." She says.

"I gotta go." He agrees, his head dropping a bit as his fingers fiddle with his towel.

"I miss you Sam. Please take care of yourself." She says, sniffling again.

"I will. I promise. You give those boys my love." He says, wiping at his eyes again.

"I will. Talk to you soon baby brother. I love you." She says, her voice almost a whisper.

"I love you too Sarah." He says, sighing as the line clicks. He takes a deep breath, kneels by the pool to splash water on his face before patting it dry again. He grabs his clothes and heads for the door Torres had popped in and out of. He's standing right outside when Sam pushes through it.

"She doin okay?" Torres asks, his voice soft. Sam nods, his lips curving just a little.

"She's good."

"Good." Torres nods.

"Helen visited the bakery today. Jimmy said the other familes have been sending people in. They trashed the store front last night. She said he looked scared." Torres says, back to business as they begin walking down the hall. Sam thinks for a second, nods.

"Let's give him some protection. We can afford leaving a few people there with him. Send Maria with a couple guys. She can pick who, she's knows her people. They can figure out what works best and then she can come back here." Sam says, another sigh escaping him.

"Will do." Torres nods, his hands going into his pockets, something he only ever does in the house, Sam had noticed. His relaxed decorum never showing around others.

"Jimmy's been loyal. And he's a good man. He deserves to feel safe." Sam says, stopping in front of his room. Torres nods again and then smiles when he looks at Sam.

"Plus he makes like, the best bread we've ever eaten." He says, licking his lips. Sam chuckled, glad for the small joke.

"Yeah his breads fucking amazing." Sam agrees, letting himself smile for awhile longer.

"I'll go tell Maria. Help her get some things together." He says, stepping away.

"Torres." Sam calls, stopping him.

"I want you to send Helen to the warehouse. Have her scope it out. She can take a few people with her too, get it done faster." Sam says, scratching at his scalp. Torres nods again.

"Have her put up some cameras too. Small ones." Sam says then, quietly.

"Cameras. You still don't trust him?" Torres asks.

"This isn't about trust, necessarily. I just wanna see-" Sam cuts off. What is it exactly he wants to see? He's not sure.

"I just need to see that it's done." He says, brow furrowed. Torres looks at him, his eyes moving over Sam's face. The kid is so observant Sam's a bit worried about what he might see.

"Live feed cameras then?" Is all he asks. Sam's eyes jump to his face, a smirk forming as he looks at the kid.

"Yes. I think live feed cameras are an excellent idea." Sam says, inclining his head. Torres mirrors him and takes a step backward before turning to go.

"I'll have Maria bring us back some bread as well." He calls over his shoulder, making Sam laugh again as he steps into his dark bedroom. He leans against the door in the dark, not sure that spying on Bucky Barnes is the best idea he's ever had. But he's curious. And Sam knows what people say about curiosity, what everyone says, but they always forget that second part.

Sam needs to this ended. Or probably started. Like this would ever really end things. But he needs to send them all a fucking message. He needs the satisfaction this will bring. He needs these fucking familes to know that Sam Wilson is not someone to be fucking trifled with.

[for-a-flower]

Part Four: Hopes and Dreams

(Any website reposting this other than at the watermark’s url DOES NOT have permission to repost this art or text and DID NOT do the work involved.  Please follow the original creators at https://for-a-flower.tumblr.com/)

           Frisk stirred and slowly opened his eyes.  He was laying on his back among yellow flowers, peering into a stream of sunlight that shone down from above.  He sat up with an excited grin.  "It worked!"  He ran both hands through dark fluffy hair.  Frisk stood, picked up a nearby stick, then started down a dark tunnel ahead.  He had a long journey if he was going to make it all the way to Asgore again, but if all went well, this one would be better than the last.  As the child approached a patch of sunlight, he slowed his pace expecting Flowey to show up.  Sure enough, a yellow flower pushed up from the ground.  Frisk gave him a little smile.

           Flowey didn't smile back.  "Hey . . . remember not to kill anything this time," he said.  "I can't believe this is a real thing I have to remind you."  That wasn’t what had happened last time.

           "You remember?" said Frisk.

           Flowey glanced away and grumbled.  "I could save too.  That's how I kept bringing you back.  I just . . . really failed at it during the whole killing you and all," he said.  Flowey turned his gaze back at Frisk and laughed halfheartedly.  "Of course I remember."

           "Don't worry.  I won't kill anything this time," said Frisk.

           Flowey smiled.  "Good luck."  He burrowed to get out of sight.

           Frisk glanced toward the gate into the Ruins ahead of him.  A female monster with white fur and a purple robe rushed through the open gate.  Frisk stared.  She approached with a concerned look on her face.  "Hello.  Are you alright?" she asked.  "Do not be afraid, my child.  I will not hurt you.  I am Toriel, caretaker of the Ruins."

           Frisk's face lit up with a smile.  He ran to her and wrapped his arms around her waist.  “I’m so glad to see you!”

           Toriel was surprised at first but smiled and gave him a comforting pat on the back.  "There, there.  It is okay, my child.  You are safe now," she said.  "I promise I will do my best to protect you during your time here."

           Frisk reluctantly let go then looked up with a smile and happy tears.  “I thought you were gone.”

           Toriel gave him a confused stare.  “What ever are you talking about?”  She glanced further into the dark cave.  “I hope you have not been hurt.  A fall like that can be very dangerous.  You must be so lost and confused.”

           Frisk scratched his head.  Toriel didn’t remember.  That was probably a good thing.  “Yeah, kind of,” he told her.  “But I’m not hurt.”

           She smiled and motioned him to follow her.  "Then come!  I shall guide you through the Ruins," she said.  She walked through the gate and continued into the area beyond.

           Frisk stayed behind and grinned.  "Yes," he said.  "Yes!"  He peeked through the gate to make sure Toriel was still on the other side.  He tried to hide his squeal of excitement, but due to the confused look that came to the Queen's face, it was clear she managed to hear it anyway.  He rushed to follow her, skipping on the way.

           She giggled.  "Welcome to your new home, my child.  You seem very happy to be here.”

           "I am!  I'm glad I ran into you," said Frisk.

           "I am glad I found you too.  Come.  We have quite a ways ahead of us."  Toriel led the way and Frisk followed close by.

           As Frisk and Toriel continued down a hall overgrown with vines and weeds, Flowey emerged from the dirt behind.  He frowned.  "Look at them . . . happy as ever."  Flowey grinned and snickered to himself.  "The human has no idea . . . no idea at all."  He watched Frisk and Toriel exit the hall.  His smile faded.  "Still . . . Chara has to be around here somewhere.  And since I haven't had any luck finding her, I guess I just gotta show her.  But . . . I still need seven human souls to do it."  Flowey sighed.  "Oh well, I've still got a plan . . . and it's bound to work this time."

           About half way through the Ruins, Toriel left Frisk behind for a head start to her home.  This time Frisk didn’t wait around.  He started his way through the Ruins and encountered a few Froggits.  They prepared to attack but the child smiled and complimented them.  They hopped away and let him pass without harm.  Toriel called the cell phone she had just left with the child minutes earlier.

           Frisk answered.  "Hello?"

           "This is Toriel," she said.  "For no reason in particular, which do you prefer, cinnamon or butterscotch?"  Frisk opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted.  "Wait.  Don't tell me.  Is it butterscotch?"

           Frisk’s pace slowed.  "Uh . . . yeah.  How did you know?"

           Toriel laughed.  "I had a feeling.  Every time a human falls down here, I almost feel like I already know them.  And truthfully, when I first saw you, I felt . . . like I was seeing an old friend for the first time.  Strange, is it not?"

           Frisk nodded.  "Yeah."

           "Well, thank you for your selection," said Toriel.  "Bye."  She hung up.  Frisk lowered the phone.  Did she remember something from before or not?  Was it just a feeling she had?  Like deja-vu?  Frisk shrugged and kept moving.  He had no trouble remembering how to solve the puzzles.  Toriel called a few minutes later.

           Frisk answered the cell phone.  "Hello?"

           "This is Toriel.  You do not have any allergies, do you?" she said.

           “Uh, no.  Why do you ask?"

           "No reason . . ." she replied.  "No reason at all.  Sorry for bothering you."

           "It's no bother.  Call any time you want."

           "Aw, you're so sweet.  Good bye for now."  Toriel hung up.  Frisk continued down a hall where he found Napstablook.  He did his best to cheer up the ghost like last time.  During his journey Frisk picked up the red ribbon from a pile of leaves.  Several minutes later, he reached the balcony on which he had found a toy knife before.  Even though he didn't want to fight anything, having to protect himself with just a stick was a bad idea.  Frisk sighed, picked up the toy knife, then rushed toward Toriel's house.  He rounded a corner and skidded to a stop by the large, dark tree in the front yard.

            Toriel stepped out the front door, mumbling to herself.  "Oh dear, that took longer than I thought it would.”  She lifted her phone to call Frisk but stopped when she noticed him standing by the tree a few yards away.  She slipped the phone in a pocket and rushed to him.  "How did you get here, my child?"

           "I went through the Ruins," said Frisk.

           Toriel looked over him.  "I told you to wait for me.  Are you hurt?"  Frisk shook his head.  She let out a sigh of relief.  "Oh thank goodness.  I am sorry.  I should not have left you alone for so long.  It was irresponsible to try to surprise you like this."  Frisk smirked.  Toriel gasped.  "Or . . ."  She smirked at the child.  "Well, I suppose I cannot hide it any longer.  Come, small one!"  She turned and led him to her home.  On the way to the door Frisk took a moment to glance over the front of Toriel’s cozy home.  He had finally saved her . . . brought her back.  It gave him determination.  He could do this.  A yellow light flickered behind him, marking a save in this new timeline so that it would never be lost.  Frisk stepped through red leaves and into the open door of a cozy, little house.  Frisk stopped beside Toriel to take a deep breath as the smell of butterscotch pie drifted by.

           "Do you smell that?" said Toriel.  Frisk nodded.  She gave him a kind smile.  "Surprise!  It is a butterscotch cinnamon pie.  I thought we might celebrate your arrival.  I want you to have a nice time living here, so I will hold off on snail pie for tonight."

           "Thanks!  It smells good."

           "Oh, and here, I have another surprise for you."  She took Frisk’s hand and led him into the hall on the right.  She stopped in front of an open door on the left.  "A room of your own.  I hope you like it!"

           As Frisk glanced over the familiar room with red painted walls, he held back tears but smiled.  "It's perfect.”

           Toriel rubbed his head with a hand, messing up his brown hair.  She paused to sniff the air.  "Is something burning?"  She glanced toward the kitchen.  "Um, make yourself at home!"  She hurried out of the hall.

           Frisk entered the room to look around.  The king's son, Asriel, had lived here.  He owned all of these stuffed toys while he was growing up.  Frisk emptied his pockets of things he had collected so far.  He had bought a couple doughnuts from the spider bake sale and found some monster candy Toriel had set out in the Ruins.  Frisk set the food on a dresser in the room then took out the toy knife, red ribbon, and stick, which he set on the bed's blanket.  Frisk smirked then turned to leave the room and rushed to the living room.  He found Toriel sitting on a large recliner with a book in her hands.

           She looked up as the human joined her.  "Hello there, little one!" she said.  "The pie has not cooled down yet.  But if you want to rest, it should be done when you wake up."

           Frisk nodded.  "I will, but I want to ask you something."

           "You'd rather stay up and chat with me?"

           "Yeah.  You're really nice like my mom."

           Toriel glanced away.  "Um . . .”  She set down the book.  “I want you to know how glad I am to have someone here."  Her gaze shifted back to Frisk and she continued with a smile.  "I have so many old books I want to share and . . . I even prepared a curriculum for your education.  I mean, this may come as a surprise to you but . . . I've always wanted to be a teacher.”

           “You would be a cool teacher.  I know it,” said Frisk.

           Toriel cleared her throat.  “I'm sorry.  You wanted to ask me something, did you not?"

           Frisk sighed, his focus drifting down the wood floor.  "Well . . . my mom is a lot like you.  She’s kind and makes pies . . . and does a lot of things with me."  Frisk glanced up at Toriel, who seemed surprised.  "You're a lot like her.  The room you gave me has a lot of kid’s things in it.  You had a family once . . . but now you're all alone.  What . . . happened to them?"

           "Uhm . . ."  Toriel blinked a few times and took a deep breath.  "That was such a long time ago, my child.  I do not remember everything so well anymore."

           Frisk could tell that the question had opened an old wound, so he smiled and shook his head.  "Never mind."  He inched closer to her.  "I wanna see some of the books.  Can you read some to me?"

           Toriel smiled.  "Oh, of course."  She motioned the human child to come sit on her lap.  Once he had, she lifted the book again.  "This one is called 72 Uses for Snails," she said.  "There are a lot of interesting facts in here.  Like this one.”  She pointed to a statement on the page.  “Did you know that snails sometimes flip their digestive systems as they mature?"

           Frisk giggled.  "That’s weird.  How do they do that?"

           Toriel rubbed her chin.  "Hm . . . I am not sure."

           Frisk wiggled impatiently on her lap.  "Read another."

           Toriel turned the page.  "Alright, let me find another good one."  Toriel continued reading to the human child for a good ten to fifteen minutes by a warm fireplace.  Eventually Frisk told a joke and the two started making puns with each other.  They laughed together and enjoyed each other’s company until Frisk grew tired.  He yawned.  "You must be exhausted," said Toriel.

           "Yeah."

           "Go and rest.  I will still be here when you wake up.  And so will the pie."

           Frisk slid off her lap.  "Good night!"

           Toriel smiled.  "Good night, my child."  The child yawned again as he walked down the hall into his new room.  He closed the door and switched off the light.  He moved the items off the bed then let himself collapse on the soft mattress.  He pulled the blanket over him and closed his eyes.  He sighed.  This was how it should have been.  This is how it was meant to be.  He felt like he belonged now instead of like he was out of place down here.

           Frisk planned to spend the next day with Toriel to get to know her.  But in the back of his mind, he knew he'd still have to leave.  He didn't want to.  He wanted to stay but . . . he still had to find a way to make it all different.  Frisk tried not to think about it.  As he started to drift off, another thought slowly came to him.  Chara.  She hadn't said anything to him since she ordered him to kill Flowey in the last timeline.  He wondered if she was still around and if she was okay.  In a way he was glad he hadn’t heard from her yet but he was also concerned.  As far as he could tell, it seemed that both Flowey and Chara had been misunderstood.  There had to be more going on with them and he wanted to know what.  It wasn't possible to go back and prevent Chara from dying, but maybe he could make things better in the present somehow.

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