#tw:mourning

[whataboutmyfries]

Russian roulette

Its here its here its finally heeeeree!!!!! I’ve been so excited for this fic for the longest time and I am so so excited to finally share it with you guys!! It’s been quite a while in the making cause I was nervous about my overall ability to keep up with a multi-chapter thing, but here we are!!!

Before you start reading this, I just want you all to know that this fic comes with a LOT of trigger warning. All of them will be in the tags of course, but I just want you guys to know to proceed with caution.

credits as always go to @lumosinlove​ Haz I have utterly CORRUPTED your characters in this one, I’m so sorry

enjoy!!

~

Chapter 1

Logan could still remember the day it had happened, the defiant fury in his friend’s eyes as he’d gone down, guns blazing 

Logan still remembered it, blood splattering his arms and face, his mouth curved in a deadly smirk as he shoved Logan out of their way, going down, guns blazing, winking at the brunette as he dived into the fray.

Logan still remembered the primal fear that ripped the scream from his chest, his arm numb from the kickback of the M4. He still remembered the screaming darkness that had taken over his head after. He still remembered him.

It was the memory of that night, a job gone wrong that had him working himself to pieces, returning to the sparring ring day after day, week after week. The mere thought of it pulling him from sleep with the sharp edge of nightmares. The what if’s and if only’s shoving his mind into a rabbit hole of unending misery.

Logan huffed in frustration, shoving down the cool rage that threatened to send him over the edge. He closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose, roughly shoving his hair off his forehead. The sweat dripped off his brow as he leaned against the punching bag, flexing his fingers against fabric wrapping his hands. 

Even through the wrappings, he could feel the gentle throbbing of the rage and sorrow that had him back at the punching bag day after day after day. He looked down at his knuckles. Shit. That was going to bruise beautifully tomorrow. He sighed, walking over to the backpack on the far end of the room to get his towel and a drink of water. 

Logan hefted his pack onto a shoulder, heading over to the sparring area to clean up, unrolling the fabric from his hands as he did so. He examined his knuckles, his hands a tapestry of bruises. He couldn’t remember the last time they hadn’t been a splotchy purple-blue. 

The door slammed open, and Logan instinctively ducked to the floor, his hands going for the gun in his backpack, his posture relaxing a little when he saw who’d walked in. 

“What the fuck do you want, Nate? He grumbled, tugging his t-shirt to rights, glaring angrily at the floor as he did so, his cheeks warming at his aggressive reaction.

Nate rolled his eyes at Logan’s attitude, raising an eyebrow at Logan’s reaction to his presence. He leaned against the door, drumming his fingers against his bicep “He’s here, sir, the rookie’s here.” 

~

It took Logan all of ten minutes to shower and get dressed to meet Finn in their office. He shook the water out of his hair as his quick steps echoed in the marble hallway. The palatial mansion was HQ. He lived here, slept here, ate here. They were his family, the lions, they’d taken him in after Wyatt had died and had stood by him through every damn thing he’d been through. Regardless, it was home. It had become Logan’s home after— Logan growled, shoving the intrusive thoughts away.

Finn met him halfway to their door, casually tugging the cuffs of his shirt to rights. 

Finn was impeccably dressed as always, looking really damn good in that white button-down, the gold chain on his neck dipping into where he’s left it unbuttoned at the neck. His bespoke trousers did wonders for showing off his legs, the gold belt buckle matching the golden rings glinting in the sun.

Logan swallowed.

“So, the rookie’s coming in today. The only thing we know is the father sent him. Be on your guard.” Finn said, raising an eyebrow at Logan to make sure he understood.

Logan nodded, cracking his knuckles as he accompanied Finn into their office, the redhead making a few calls to get extra security detail around the house. Dons couldn’t take risks, no matter who sent their visitors.  

Logan shook out his hands, sucking in a calming breath before collapsing onto his chair. 

“You have to meet Dubois at the Excelsior tonight. We got a tip he’s been skimming the funds.” Finn said absent-mindedly, his mind more occupied with reading some file. The Excelsior was one of their biggest casinos, three floors of opulent revelry. And Dubois was the sleazy good-for-nothing who ran it for them.

Logan grumbled, flipping open a file of his own, the name Dubois emblazoned in sharp, black letters on the cover. Being a Mob boss wasn’t all it was made out to be, and Logan never thought he’d get used to it. He could scarcely remember how he and Finn had come to build the Lions, one of the biggest crime syndicates in the world, second only to the snakes; a family of vicious, rabid psychopaths who cared for nothing and nobody, dispatching their targets with gruesome efficiency. 

Finn had a suspicion the snakes had been doing recon work at the Excelsior and had told Logan as much. Considering that Logan had to deal with the slimy manager, anyway, he thought he might as well look into the matter. Finn looked at him over the gold rim of his glasses, as though reading his thoughts. 

“Take Potter with you, ask him to get two of his best with him,” Finn said, referring to their head of security.  

Logan huffed, about to shoot back a retort about how he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself thankyouverymuch when there was a knock on the door. Nate leaned against the wood, a smirk playing on his lips.

“He’s here.” 

~

The rookie as it turns out was no rookie at all, rather son to the most infamous pickpocket and street magician of all time, Wyatt Knut. The man had stolen and pickpocketed thousands of dollars’ worth of goods and cash in his time, there was even a rumour going around that he’d been involved in some of the biggest heists of the era, driving his worth up to millions of dollars. 

And this was his son. Sitting in front of him, idly flicking a folded sheet of paper between his fingers, making it disappear and then appear again, his leg bouncing under the table. He looked nervous, his eyes flicking around the room, drinking up the opulent mansion around him. He snapped to attention when Finn cleared his throat, sitting up straighter in his chair. 

“The name’s Knut, Leo Knut. Lizard sent me.” 

Logan’s eyes widened at the nickname. There were very few people in the world who knew it, and this baby faced blond kid sitting in front of them sure as hell didn’t look like someone who would. The fact that he did calmed Logan’s suspicions. This was real. He wasn’t kidding.

Logan felt more than saw Finn’s interest pique. The redhead leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table. The tension in the room was palpable, and it took every inch of self-control in Logan’s body to not stiffen, sit up straighter, show he was on his guard. Let blue eyes make the first move. Logan was in charge here, not him. 

Leo’s eyes dipped to the folded note in his hand as he vanished it into his sleeve and brought it back. He sucked in a breath, calming his nerves before raising his eyes to the two men sitting before him.  

“Lizard said to come to you if he didn’t return or communicate his….being alive within four days of that mission.” Leo braced for the confusion and chaos that was going to follow his next words. 

“He had a plan to take down the snakes.” 

~

Logan’s jaw dropped, his hands going slack from where they were crossed across his chest. Lizard had what?!? Granted, he was one of their best reconnaissance men, but this seemed a stretch, even for him. 

Finn, ever the diplomat, had kept a straight face, not a hair out of place. It was only through eight years of being his friend that he noticed the tension and suspicion radiating off him. 

The redhead cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? And do you have any proof of this…..plan?” 

Leo grinned, the simple expression lighting up the entire room.” I thought you’d never ask”

 He raised his slender fingers, pulling a flash drive out of thin air, setting it down on the table before him. “It’s in three parts.” he nodded to the drive. “The drive, a……” He waved his hand in the air, trying to find the right words. “Map? With the targets and the blueprints and an encrypted folder on his laptop.”  

Logan barely registered what he’d said. The second Leo has flicked the drive out from between his fingers it was game over for him. Logan was mesmerised. He couldn’t stop staring at those hands, long thin fingers flipping the note in and out of sight with hypnotic movements, drumming on his thigh, gesturing broadly as he spoke. 

Finn seemed to have noticed, pressing his thigh against Logan’s under the table. He froze at the contact, Finn’s warmth seeping into him through the fabric of his jeans. Shit. Now was not the time. He shook his head, clearing his throat and focusing on the task at hand.  

Finn leaned back in his chair, his finger steepling under his chin. “And you’re just trusting us with this information? It’s been a month, why haven’t you approached us sooner? What’s in it for you?” 

Leo’s smile disappeared, shadows dancing behind those blue irises. “Lizard was like a second father to me. I’ve known him since I was a kid, he and my dad were friends.” He let out a shaky breath. “And when he didn’t return from that raid….I wanted to get revenge. I wanted to hurt anyone who dared to so much as lay a hand on him.” Leo met Finn’s eyes. “I was...hurt for a long time after his death, couldn’t figure out how to deal with the loss. It’s the reason why I’m only here now. And as for trusting you with the information…” He trailed off, putting a piece of paper on the table. 

Logan realised it was the same folded note that had been weaving in and out of Leo’s fingers as he’d spoken to them. The paper was worn, the edge soft in a way only repeated use could make them. Finn’s eyes flicked to Leo before he picked it up, glancing at Logan as he opened it. 

Logan leaned in, reading over Finn’s shoulder. In a familiar, stocky script it said: 

‘Sun, I’m going out on business. It’s the usual. Same as always, If I don't communicate in 4 days, ask around for Logan Tremblay and Finn O Hara, Tell them about mission troy. They’ll know who I am, say Lizard sent you  -P’ 

Logan’s hands shook, and he stuffed them into his pockets, still reading the note, scouring it over and over for clues, anything that would tell them that he was still alive— though he knew he wasn’t going to find anything. His eyes caught on the first word. ‘Sun’? Logan wracked his mind, trying to find any reason why Lizard has called him that. Realisation struck and Logan looked over Leo, sizing him up. 

Leo ‘the Sun’ Knut had was famous for his brilliant smile, those dimples distracting even the most stubborn of men while he swindled them out of their money. Bright as the sun and just as blinding, they said. Logan allowed himself a smirk at that. Like father, like son.  

Leo didn’t back down from his stare, raising a blond eyebrow at the intense look, cocking his head to the side. A shiver of excitement ran through Logan, bigger men had backed away from that look of his, yet this lanky child didn’t so much as falter. Interesting. 

Finn rested his elbows on the table, ever the portrait of unruffled grace. “How do we know this is real?” He asked, nodding his head at the drive sitting on the table. 

Logan could practically see the effort it took Leo to not roll his eyes. The blond shrugged, crossing his arms on the desk. “Believe me, or don’t. It’s your loss. I have my orders and if you aren’t willing to provide the resources, I’m sure I’ll find other people who are.” His gaze sharpened to a flinty glare, “I’m just trying to do right by a friend. He asked me a favour and I will not let him down��� He nudged the drive forward with a long finger, the little black device sitting in the middle of the table.  “Help me or not, it’s up to you, but don’t you fucking dare get in my way.”

[thorinsbeard]

I just found out one of my best online friends died. Bill was my friend from 2009-2019. That’s a long time to know someone. We’d talk via voice chat even though I was anxious and we  made this amazing thing together: http://amazingracecontests.blogspot.com/ and right now I just feel so lost and alone because he was my friend. I’ll never hear his voice again or hear him laugh or play music for him. He helped me transition at the start, and supported me the whole time. I miss him. I might take some time. I just feel very spaced out right now. 

[trash-llama]

"Violet… Patrick is gone… remember?

"Yes, he went to get cleaned up."

"No, that's William - your grandson. We lost Patrick two years ago… in the war."

"We lost Patrick?"

"We did. I'm so sorry."

"My son is gone?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

It is strange to think that I once despised this woman. I have nothing but love and empathy for her now. I wish I could take away her pain, but I know that I can never make up for the loss of a child.