#i was rinsing the pot and the sink handle just came off in my hand

[courtingchaos]

It’s Just a Question

A/N: Back on my bullshit. I’ve had some really hard times with my normal writing while also finding myself in some shitty circumstances. So this is how this came about. Just a lot of feelings. Technically plus sized reader but you can do whatever you want.

18+ NSFW No Minors

“Am I pretty?”

“What?” Eddie sprays toothpaste on the mirror, he’s so quick to ask.

“Am I pretty?” You scrunch your face up over and over, drawing your eyebrows down and crinkling your eyes. Purse your lips and frown deep and finally look over at him staring at you, toothbrush hanging from his mouth and arms braced on the countertop.

“Are you pretty?” He reiterates with a deep sigh. “Of course you are, you’re gorgeous. Especially right now when your hair matches mine and we look like two electrocuted cotton balls.” He’s not flippant but he’s definitely brushing you off.

You aren’t done though. “I’m serious, and I’m not asking if you think I’m pretty. Am I pretty like…Anne Hathaway.” You pull down on your cheek and watch it bounce back, albeit slower than it did when you were 20.

“Well…you don’t even look-no.” He stops quickly and spits in the sink and rinses his toothbrush, viciously shaking his head the whole time. “This is a trap and I refuse.” He says as he leaves you in the bathroom.

“Eddie it’s not a trap it’s an honest question!”

“This is like the worm thing and I’m not doing that again!” He yells over his shoulder before closing himself in the bedroom to get dressed for work. You sigh and turn to look at your tired reflection. Your perpetual eyebags answer your question for you, and your dusting of sun damage yells it louder from the mirror.

Not pretty, subliminally average.

Standing in line at the grocery store, Eddie slumped over the handle and picking at stray grapes, you ask again only this time with a visual aid.

“Okay, I mean like this.” You shove a copy of Rolling Stone under his nose, a new pop star gracing their cover in something sheer and tight. “I meant pretty like this.” You say quietly next to him. He chews on another free grape slowly, staring at the cover and tilting his head. He doesn’t move, just slides his eyes way over to give you the look.

“You’re prettier than her.”

“What about Juno Temple?” You quip back.

“She’s shorter than you. And British, doesn’t count.” He quips right back. You huff and shove the magazine back in its slot.

“You’re not understanding me.”

“No, I am. You’re just not listening to me.” He pushes the cart up a spot and continues his easy lean. “You’re pretty like…that.” He searches the newsstand by the register and points at a baking magazine, perfectly circled apple tart dusted with sugared cinnamon and you bark a loud laugh.

“A tart Edward?”

“Don’t twist my words. I said you’re pretty like that.” He smiles, pops another grape in his mouth and starts tossing things on the conveyer belt.

Pretty like a baked good.

He’s elbow deep in the shelf of succulents, looking for something called a ‘Black Rose’.

“I know it’s in here, there’s four dead ones up top.” He’s pushing little green teardrops to the side to find his prize, a loud ‘Ha!’ when he whips his hand out, holding the little plant by its little container.

“It’s so tiny.”

“Yeah and in like six months it might not be.” He gives you a cheesy smile and sets in the cart with your other potential house plant failures. Somehow he’s managed to keep a giant flat pot of succulents alive for almost a year and every time you go to the plant store, he adds another.

“Okay, what’s its name.”

You hum at him, tapping your finger along the cart when you get distracted. A willow of a woman walks in, hair shiny like water and flowing over her thin, petite shoulders. She looks like she’s on a mission, perfectly manicured hand pointing her in the right direction when she heads for a batch of bright zinnias. Her smile painted a bright coral like the plant she picks up and places in her cart, three more following and off she billows to the next aisle full of ivy. Eddie saw it the moment you stopped listening to him listing off names. The swivel of your head and then the tapping of your finger ceasing, knuckles going white around the cart handle. He watches you watch her and he knows the question is coming before you turn back around with that frown hewn into your forehead.

“Like this.” He holds up the small succulent, barely formed petals burnished a deep purple in the afternoon sun.

“What.”

“Pretty like this.”

“You don’t even-“ You scoff and cut yourself off, heavy eye roll directed at no one while you turn away and sulk by the snake plants.

He doesn’t tell you, but he names it after you.

The Big One happens during the summer. Chrissy is engaged, and her new belle and her decide to have a joint bachelorette party, everyone invited. You know Eddie’s people, all these random characters drawn together through something you don’t quite understand. You meet Chrissy fiancé and she’s just as bubbly and sweet as Chrissy herself. Eddie gives them your gift and drops a kiss on Chrissy’s cheek and it barely bothers you.

They’d dated just out of high school. 15 years ago and before Chrissy had realized why men just never hit the spot. She floats around her party and you hang around behind Eddie while he walks the two of you around in conversation. At some point you’d gone past your standard three (3) drinks and the mango seltzers are starting to make you a little resentful.

Thankfully you catch it, excuse yourself to the bathroom and give yourself a stern stare in the mirror.

It’s not your party.

They’re just friends.

It’s not about you.

…Is it ever?

There’s a reason you stop at 3 lately, that rolling black pit of self loathing feeds on bubbly things and it’s feeding on a blonde tonight.

So when you come back you sit at a table by yourself. You tuck your hands under your thighs and admonish yourself for how wide they are. There’s a tug of war happening between your self pity and your self depreciation, a tear balancing on your lashes while you roll the wet eyes under them. Eddie finds you bent over your phone and all you can think about is how wide your shoulders must have looked from that far away.

“Hey, where’d you go?”

“I had to uh, go to the bathroom.” Your pause gives you away, just south of tipsy, and Eddie smiles, his big hand sliding under your chin to hold it between his fingers. A move that usually has you melting into his palm, but tonight?

You tug your head away and he frowns. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t think I need to be here anymore.”

“You feeling okay?”

“I’m just fine. I’m gonna get an Uber home, you stay.” You stand up and hate the feel of your clothes on you. Your hair feels too heavy and the makeup you spent an hour on is suddenly sticky and tacky and wasted on you.

“No, we’ll leave together.” Eddie has concern all over his face. He tries to give you a hand when you obviously stumble and you slap it away.

The fight only starts when you start crying, unable to control your emotions anymore. You spend the whole ride home feeling sorry for yourself, saying the most inane shit Eddie’s ever heard.

“You can’t ask me to compare you to Chrissy. That’s not fair!” He laughs humorlessly when you ask him who’s prettier. “One, it was 15 years ago! Two, I’m not doing this anymore!” He yells and it shuts you up. He can hear the click of your jaw with how quick you stop yammering on drunkenly about your thighs.

“If you want to play that game, let’s look at your past relationships, huh?”

“What relationships Eddie?!” You scream back at him. There’s a part of his being that can feel the backslide into the terrible habit of yelling to get his point across. Picked up from his father and quelled at every turn, but today you drag it out of him.

“Oh don’t start with that shit again.”

“You mean all the guys that fucked me in the dark?! Or do you mean the ones that pretended not to know me in public?”

He gets to your apartment in record time, slamming the car in park and scrambling to hold your seatbelt buckled before you can run out.

“Let me out.” Your face is red from crying and from hatred and from loathing.

“No.” He says quieter but with finality. You stare at him, waiting for him to move his hand but he won’t, keeps his fingers locked around yours.

“You’re drunk, and you’ve been in a bad mood lately.” He knows he knows he knows that was the wrong thing to say. It spilled out of his mouth before he could throw the net out for those errant words and you give him the meanest smile he’s ever seen on your face.

“A bad mood?” You nod your head like you’re agreeing but he’s bracing for impact. “A bad mood. Tell you what, when I have a fucking roster of groupies and easy boys behind me, then we can talk about my bad mood.”

“You’re mad because of people I’ve slept with?”

“Look at me Eddie!” You scream and it breaks on his name, the sob you’d been swallowing for an hour finally surfacing. “I don’t fucking look like Chrissy and I sure as fuck don’t look like Steve! You still have that picture of that stand in drummer on your profile you fucked around with! Every single one of them is-fuck! Stunning!” You finally wrench the seatbelt out of his hand and free yourself. “I look like a fucking joke when you take me places. You think I don’t see people staring?” Another mirthless laugh before you kick the door open and wobble your way out. “Make someone else laugh, Eddie.”

He watches you stomp off inside and slap the button for the elevator. There’s enough time he could get out and follow you in and upstairs and finish the yelling match and maybe get you to see straight.

But he doesn’t. His grip tightens on the steering wheel so much it creaks. He feels on the verge of tears and when you disappear behind the closing doors he punches his door and drives home too fast.

The doorbell rings and Eddie answers it without thinking. You look small in your hoodie, your hair damp and braided over your shoulder. He’s so used to you standing tall with him, a sturdy pillar he can lean on instead of always having to be the support. To see your shoulders pulled in tight makes his chest ache.

“I’m sorry I haven’t answered your texts.” You say quietly.

“I shouldn’t have yelled like that.”

“God don’t-“ you wipe at your eyes and stare at your feet. “Don’t apologize to me. I shouldn’t have gone off the fucking handle like that.”

“Maybe, but you’re obviously feeling some kind of way that you aren’t telling me about.”

“It’s the normal shit, Eddie. I just let it get to me.”

He holds the door open wider and nods his head over to the couch. “You wanna tell me about it?”

You don’t, not really. It’s going to go the way it always does with you explaining a life long loathing and the few times you see daylight out of the pit it holds you in.

“I shouldn’t have started that pretty shit.” You shake your head and clutch the pillow tighter around your middle. Eddie sits on the other side of the couch, long legs tucked up under his chin and you wish you could fold in on yourself like that. There must be a twist to your mouth or a shift of your body because Eddie sighs deeply.

“You know you don’t have to ask me that.”

“I know, but that’s not what I was asking anyways.”

“What does it matter?”

You shoot him a puzzled look. “I mean, I just want-I’d like to know if-“ you start and stop and Eddie just waits until you stop floundering.

“If I think you’re pretty, what does the rest matter?”

“It just does.” Your bottom lip wobbles and you hide it behind your fist. Eddie catches it, of course, and crawls over to you, grabbing your quivering chin and making you look up.

“I can’t undo a lifetime of self loathing in one afternoon, but I can definitely help cut through that shit one compliment at a time.” He gives you a gentle kiss and feels the smattering of tears hit your face, his thumb coming up to wipe them away. He cradles your face till you bury it in his neck and quietly cry for a while.

You loose count of how many sorry’s you give him and he finally tells you enough with a smile. He gives you his phone and tells you to order dinner and he disappears for a few minutes in his room.

Later, after food and more talking and a quiet nap spent curled up against Eddie’s side he asks if he can take you to bed.

“Sure grampa.” He smiles at your humor, an improvement to the tears earlier. He gets you out of your Sad Clothes and you quickly get under the blankets. He wants to say something but he knows to start small.

Starts with the lights off and sheds his clothes before crawling under the blankets from the foot of the bed. It makes you laugh and wind your legs around him, a win in his book. He kisses up your legs leaving a wet trail from your ankles to your thighs before you feel your face growing hot the closer he gets to your center. When you think he might pull your underwear off he doesn’t, instead kissing up your soft stomach to your breast and it isn’t until his curls spill out from under the blanket that you can hear him murmuring against your skin. Chanting “beautiful beautiful beautiful” and laying down “I love you’s”. His nose runs along under your chin while he kisses up to your ear “so pretty so perfect”. He runs his hands up into your hair and hold you in place while he hovers, warm brown eyes staring lovingly into yours.

“You have no idea how lucky I am.”

“Eddie…”

“No, don’t start.” He kisses you long and slow and it makes you tear up in a good way. He notices them hanging in the corners of your eyes and kisses those away while you laugh at him, watery and light and he knows he’s winning. It isn’t long before he’s got you trapped under him, legs tugged up around his hips so he can fuck into you slow and deep, his fingers still carding through your hair and keeping your eyes on him.

“So good for me.”

“Keep your eyes on me baby.”

“Just me and you.”

You couldn’t close your eyes if you wanted to, anchored to his stare and his touch and the way he whispers at you such sweet things. He kisses you deep when he feels you tightening around him. Thighs pulled tight around his hips, hands grasping for his shoulders to hold him tight to you while you spasm and gasp around him. He follows soon after, dropping his head down to nuzzle into your neck.

“Sweet girl.”

“Always so good to me.”

“Love you so much.”

Eddie lets you unwind from him before he lays on his back beside you.

“Can I show you something?” He pulls you in next to him so you have to drape over his chest, tattoos swelling under his deep breath. He holds his phone over your heads and finds the photo album he was looking for. You catch a glimpse of one of you and start to turn your head into his chest before he tuts at you.

“What did we just talk about?”

Instead you give him the benefit of doubt and let him scroll through. He talks about all the photos he has of you and why he kept them. Why he took them or got them from Robin or Nancy or one of the kids on one of the many outings. He’s got pictures of sunsets and really good food and flowers and his succulent pot. There’s a skyline in the rain from a green room he was in that he tells you reminds him so much of you. Says something about composition and the rain and how it comforts him like you do and if you weren’t wrung out you’d start crying again. He scrolls for a half hour explaining every photo and why they’re all you or remind him of you and how he finds you in the things he finds beautiful.

“So yes, I do.” He grabs your chin and you melt into his touch as he pulls you in for a soft kiss. “I think you’re pretty and beautiful and stunning and I will remind you every day.” Another peck before he cradles your head against his chest.

One day, maybe, you won’t have to remind yourself that it doesn’t matter. That Eddie thinks you’re pretty and that’s all you need, but today you know it for sure and feel it for sure and it’s enough.

(Sacrifice for the read more)

#Eddie Munson fic #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson Comfort #My Work #My Fic #Eddie Munson smut

[ovaryacted]

For that prompt game thingy

99 with leon x slasher reader maybe :0

Hey!! Thank you for requesting! I'm literally so sorry this took me such a long time to write and it turned out much longer than I anticipated. I've never really done anything dark-ish or with suspense, so I wanted to take a shot at it and see what my brain came up with but of course, it took me a while lol. I think for this one probably RE2R Leon, just him as a regular cop, and he lives in a city so dealer’s choice. Anyways, hopefully, this is interesting cause I’m a little nervous lolz. :) [ prompt game ]

99. “We’re in an abandoned lodge in the middle of nowhere. Sure, you’re totally right, nothing bad could ever happen here.” RE2R Leon x reader [cw: slightly dark themes, mentions of body parts & violence] - 1.5k words

It hasn't been long since Leon started his new job as a rookie cop, excited was an understatement. Yet it seemed as if the universe had given him the worst possible combination of a new role and what seemed to be someone on a killing spree.

The first case happened a few weeks ago, a young male was reported to be slashed over his torso. It was one knife wound to the upper chest, clean and efficient, followed by another to the lung and one more up the stomach. Leon was on the scene, answering the call of a distressed citizen when they found the body in an alleyway, and the sight was enough to make him nauseous. It was seen as a premeditated murder case, but there were no traces of the perpetrator left behind. No fingerprints, no lost weapons, nothing.

Like a ghost in the wind, it was a dead end.

The more experienced agents took over the investigation, and Leon was back to being a cop. He thought it was over, that he’d be able to go back on patrol duty and ride along in his car.

But that wasn’t the end of it.

The murders became more frequent, almost for show, and the way the deaths were done became more theatric as time passed. Week after week, more people began to disappear from the city, mostly male victims each torn apart in exuberant ways. A gash up the spine, a straight slash across the neck, another had an arm and leg detached from the person's torso. But the main wound on the chest of each victim was the only controlled variable between all of them.

Either way, it seemed like someone was enjoying their time passionately tearing other people apart.

“I just can’t wrap my head around it”, Leon mumbled to himself as you washed up the dishes in the kitchen after dinner. He had been out working on these cases tirelessly, constantly on patrol, and barely been home with you as a result of everything piling up.

“Who just goes around and starts randomly killing people? I mean, this feels like some shit out of a horror movie”, he continued to speak, raising his head to look at the back of your head.

“Some people are just crazy like that. You know how people get inspiration from those crazed fanatics on those cult forums”, you commented, finishing washing the cooking pot you had in the sink and putting it on the drying rack.

“If it was one thing I wasn’t expecting, was to deal with a mass murderer the first few weeks of my damn job”, he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling as the stress was starting to take its toll.

“Just your luck huh?”, you said with a teasing smirk, wiping the knife you were cleaning with a soapy sponge.

You were almost methodical with the way you handled the blade, watching the suds sliding off of it as you rinsed it, careful not to cut yourself. You dried it with one of the dishtowels you threw to the side, the metal gleaming under the kitchen light. Giving it one last good wipe you put it back in the wooden block along with the rest of your knife collection.

“Maybe what you need is a vacation. Away from this mess. You have some PTO you could take right?”, you asked as you walked towards him, sitting on his lap while he remained seated on the dining room chair. He pondered for a bit, watching how you flicked the ends of his hair and curled it around your finger.

“I mean I do but…the chief might not like it if I left so abruptly. Don’t want to make the wrong impression”, he contemplated it, trying to fight you on your words but it was something on his mind.

“You need a break Leon, from all of this. Say it’s a family emergency or something. I hate seeing you so stressed like this baby”, you pouted at him, lips puckering out as you kissed him on the tip of the nose. “Just a few days, that’s all I’m asking”

He caressed your lower back affectionately as you sat on his lap, feeling your hands squeezing his shoulders and rubbing his chest. The nagging voice in his head kept thinking about your proposition, the image of being away with you and just enjoying his time sounded beyond appealing. It wouldn’t be so bad right? He glanced at you and gave you a small smile.

“A break doesn’t sound too bad. I’ll see if I can snag a couple of days off okay?”, Leon said to you, and you cheered happily at him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“We'll go take a little vacation. Just you and me”, your eyes held that promise of excitement as they bore into Leon’s, content that he was at least going to try for your sake.

You were patient as you waited for any sign of Leon possibly getting time off, thinking that you wouldn’t have any luck with the way things were. But the moment you were granted a win once he spoke to the chief, you nearly jumped on top of him from joy. It didn’t take long before you both packed your bags and drove off into the mountains, renting a cabin that would be good for a weekend of leisure. The both of you were excited to finally get away from all the chaos in the city and to just spend some quality time together.

But what you envisioned when it came to a vacation was completely different from what Leon had in mind.

He didn’t recall how it happened. One minute you two were having dinner, eating some steak and potatoes paired with some red wine. The next, his head felt dizzy as he struggled to keep himself upright, calling out your name before his vision faded to black.

Now he found himself with his arms and ankles tied together by some rope, slouched on the floor and disheveled. He didn’t know how he managed to get into this precarious situation, but it was all giving him whiplash. The wood paneling of the walls was different, it was dim and quiet in the cabin and his surroundings were unusual.

Was he back at the cabin? Was he still in the same place with you? Where were you?

His mind was going a mile a minute and his nerves were on high, the skills he’s developed from being a cop going into overdrive to come up with a solution. Leon started looking around, scrabbling to find anything to help him free his hands so he could look for you.

But that’s when he heard it, when your bubbly laughter filtered through the crisp air surrounding him. His ears perked up the sound, perceptive blue eyes observing you diligently as you came into view. There was a dark and twisted grin on your face, something he’s never seen before.

“What the hell is going on?”, he was confused, couldn’t make sense of the current circumstances. But all he wondered was why you looked at him as if he were a meal. Some plaything for your enjoyment.

“Well, I needed to get you out of here. I couldn’t keep having you on my trail sweetheart. That’s when the fun ends”, in your hand was the familiar kitchen blade, shiny and sharpened, gleaming despite the darkness of the room you were both in. It took a second before the realization hit him, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head as a wave of overlapping emotions washed over him.

“It was you?”, his eyes widened as he watched you, finally connecting the dots. The slasher he’d been looking for was right under his nose the entire time, so deeply hidden he didn’t even think it was possible. He was sleeping with the devil, and it made his stomach churn.

“Why? Why did you do it?!”, it felt like his entire world was falling apart, his sense of normalcy that he had worked so hard to achieve was gone in the blink of an eye. And he couldn’t do anything to save it.

“Had some things to take care of, needed to get my stress out somehow. Sorry if I have hobbies”, this was all a joke to you, if anything it was entertaining to see Leon suffer.

“It doesn’t have to be like this. Nothing bad has to happen here”, he felt pathetic as he begged, looking at you in hopes of finding any trace of morality left.

All you could do was laugh at him, loud and shameless. You took a step closer, crouching down to his level as you grazed the tip of the knife from his throat up towards his chin. Your gaze darkened and your smile curled, sending a chill down Leon’s spine.

“We’re in an abandoned lodge in the middle of nowhere. Sure, you’re totally right, nothing bad could ever happen here.”

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

#ovaryacted asks #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #resident evil fanfic #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #ovaryacted drabbles #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆ #literally why is this so long lmfao?? #like okay bro PLEASE

[sashaisready]

Your Heart Belongs to Me - Part One

Sheriff Lee Bodecker x Female Reader (The Devil All The Time)

In late-1960s Knockemstiff, your husband Lee has been neglecting you for so long that you're starved of affection. Trapped in your domestic prison, could the young handyman working on your house be your ticket to freedom?

Warnings: smut/sexual references (light), angst, extramarital affairs, alcohol and drug use, alcoholism, some rough handling of female character by male character. Lee is quite dark in this story so please use caution.

Story Masterlist Part 2

You were rinsing the dinner plates and scrubbing the pots and pans when your husband came up behind you in the kitchen. You were humming to yourself like you often did during your chores, a little song to break up the monotony of your tedious duties.

Lee said nothing. He just quietly placed the crumpled piece of paper down next to the sink, pushing it across the counter by your elbow.

When you saw what it was your stomach sank so quickly you thought you might be sick. You felt your knees buckle as panic moved its way up your body, seemingly collapsing each of your muscles.

“Found this in the bedroom” he said quietly. You couldn’t read his tone which was always scarier, he was always more manageable when you could actually hear the anger in his voice.

You peered over at it intently as if you’d just seen it for the first time. “Huh” you uttered. “What’s that, baby?” Cutesy nicknames often helped appease him.

You knew feigning innocence would only get you so far, but you had to try.

“I was thinkin’ you could tell me” muttered Lee.

You carried on washing the dishes as if this was all no big deal, too nervous to turn around and face him.

“Sorry honeybun, nothing I’ve seen before” you said casually. “Maybe it fell out of one of my library books? People use all sorts of things for bookmarks”. You hoped he hadn’t noticed your breathing quicken, but of course he had.

“Maybe check it again” Lee said stonily. He held it in front of your face and you gingerly took it from him.

The paper was scrawled with chicken scratch handwriting. It looked like it had been written with blunt charcoal. It was actually an eyeliner pencil. You knew that, of course. You read it for the thousandth or so time since you’d received it. It was silly of you to keep it. You knew that then and you knew that now. But you thought you’d hidden it well enough. It was the only thing you owned which gave you joy. You treasured it, like a magpie guarding a precious piece of silver in its nest.

Never forget that each day your beauty catches me off guard. Your Heart Belongs To Me – H

“Sounds like someone has a sweetheart” you muttered, placing it back on the counter. “Shame it never found its way to the intended recipient I guess”.

Sweat dripped down your forehead as Lee hummed thoughtfully. You intently scrubbed at a stubborn patch of grease baked onto the pan.

“You know what’s funny?” Lee said as he placed a firm hand on your waist. “Your Heart Belongs To Me…ain’t that your favourite Supremes song?”

You gulped, going rigid in his grasp. “I-it is” you mumbled.

Lee chuckled. “A good husband knows his wife’s favourite song. I remember how much you used to play that one” he mused.

“Yes. When I had my record player, at least” you whispered tightly.

You froze as he continued his interrogation routine on you. He didn’t get to be Sheriff on luck alone.

“And ‘H’” he said thoughtfully, taking the time to enunciate the letter carefully. “I’ve been rackin’ my brains wondering who ‘H’ could be. Any ideas, sugar?” he asked, his grip on your waist tightening as his free hand joined the other side of you.

It was Harry, of course.

You knew that. Lee knew that.

Harry.

**

Harry had worked for you and Lee for a few weeks at the height of summer, building a shed in the yard and taking on a few odd jobs around the house as a handyman. Lee was too busy at the station of course, working long hours as he protected the town and did his duty. Many of those long hours were also spent in the company of prostitutes, or staring down a bottle of whisky in some seedy bar. He rarely tried to cover his tracks nowadays so you knew all about it. You saw the lipstick marks on his shirts in the laundry. Found that unfamiliar pair of discarded panties underneath the passenger seat of his cruiser (which you purposefully left on the dash so he knew you’d seen them). Smelt the liquor on his breath as he stumbled into bed with you countless hours after his shift had ended. Regardless, he had no such time to build sheds or put up shelves, so Harry was hired.

Harry, twenty one years old, fresh faced and beautiful. He seemed impossibly young to you, a living reminder of your lost youth – even though there wasn’t really that much difference in your ages, in the big scheme of things. His body was perfectly chiselled from years spent working with his hands outside, wide arms and broad shoulders, sturdy thighs and calloused fingers. Sometimes when you snuck glances at him as he worked - you’d catch him wiping his brow with his t-shirt, his exposed stomach like a washboard. He even had that prominent ‘V’ muscle creeping down to his crotch. You’d only ever seen pictures of that in the magazines. Nobody else in Knockemstiff looked like Harry. As he ran his fingers absent-mindedly through his long chestnut hair, you’d often feel your breath hitch and a tingle between your legs, suddenly thinking the type of thoughts that betrayed your marriage vows.

It started innocently enough. Mrs Bodecker, the Sheriff’s wife, is known for nothing if not being a good host. You’d bring him lemonade and home baked muffins, make him lunch, bring him wet towels to cool down with when the baking summer sun was too stifling. He was always so grateful, so appreciative. He’d tell you how good everything tasted and be openly in awe of your housekeeping skills. The most you got from Lee these days was a grunt, or he’d moan that he wanted porkchops when you made him lamb.

It was nice to have someone to talk to during the day. You were alone in the house by yourself most of the time, and your chores only kept you so busy. Harry would chat with you, ask you questions about yourself as he ate lunch and you cleaned the stove. He always seemed genuinely interested in your answers, remembering the details and referring to them again in later conversations. His attention was intoxicating, it made you feel special and important – as if maybe there was more to you than just being a homemaker and the Sheriff’s dutiful wife.

Your routine was that you’d put on your records as you cleaned, cooked, sewed and organised. Everything from The Supremes to The Stones, music brought you intense joy and brightened your days. Lee often called most of it a racket but you didn’t care. When he was out you’d shimmy up the stairs to the Four Seasons, scrub the bathroom tiles to The Monkees and dress your salads to Aretha. You’d dance by yourself, bouncing from room to room as you swayed to the music and tapped your feet. It was the only time you felt truly free, unencumbered by the dreariness of your day to day.

You’d tone it down when Harry was around of course, not wanting him to catch your embarrassing displays of frivolity. You’d sway to the songs, hum along gently, but reserved the real dancing for when you were alone.

Then one day you forgot yourself, getting caught up listening to Shout by the Isley Brothers. You just got carried away, twirling in the living room with your eyes closed and shaking your hips, leaping onto the couch and throwing your arms up with wild abandon. Completely unselfconscious and liberated.

You gasped when you saw Harry leaning against the doorframe, his gorgeous grin lighting up his face. You had blushed crimson as you stopped the record, ashamed to be caught in your private moment. But Harry had told you how much he liked it, he asked if he could join in. You awkwardly put the song back on and he began to dance too. You felt self-conscious at first but he took your hand and spun you around. His playful energy was so infectious you couldn’t help but relax and begin to enjoy it. Lee hated dancing and never indulged you apart from an occasional half-hearted slow dance sway at weddings. Dancing with a man who wanted to dance with you, who actually enjoyed dancing, was dizzying, particularly such a handsome man who had his pick of the girls in town.

After that, you and Harry danced every day. You’d take turns picking a record and would bop around the living room together laughing and twirling, he’d dip you and spin you around. You knew it was wrong, but you didn’t feel guilt – it was just dancing after all, nothing more. Besides, Lee was up to much worse, so what did a little dancing hurt?

Lee was becoming harder to live with. He’d stopped having sex with you, just occasionally demanding a hand or blow job when he’d stumbled in from the bar, swaying with drunkenness – sometimes running to the bathroom to vomit afterwards. He never serviced your own needs, never even kissed you. Once night you tried to seduce him with his favourite dinner and a slinky teddy nightdress, nibbling on his earlobe on the couch – but he merely waved you away and told you he was watching TV. You don’t think he’d even have noticed if you’d been nude.

You’d resorted to touching yourself alone in bed on the nights he was out, thinking about dancing in Harry’s strong arms and picturing his deep blue eyes as you bucked wildly against your hand, your face pressed to the pillow to muffle your cries. You’d been married for nearly seven years now, and this wasn’t how you pictured your life.

One particularly stifling afternoon you’d put on Your Heart Belongs To Me for Harry and had slow danced with him in the kitchen, his hands gently clasping your hips as you swayed in time together. You’d looked up into his beautiful, welcoming sea blue eyes and he smiled back at you so warmly that your heart skipped a beat. You rested your head on his chest and closed your eyes as his hands caressed your back and you thought about another life, another you, with Harry. He would love you and you him. And all would be fine.

“The Sheriff is so lucky to have you” he had whispered, and your eyes filled with tears because Lee would never think such a thing.

“When I get married, if my wife is anythin’ like you I’ll be a happy man” he said softly. “Beautiful..kind…fun…the best cook in the state” he laughed.

You looked back at him, unsure of what to say, just basking in his kind words. Inhaling them like much needed oxygen, your heart stinging as you realised you hadn’t heard anything like that from a man in so many years.

“This is my favourite song” you whispered.

Harry smiled again. “I think it’s mine too now”.

He gently lifted a finger under your chin and raised your lips to his, your skin buzzed with electricity as he kissed you so tenderly you thought your legs might give out. Every nerve ending in your body felt alight in that moment, as if someone had flicked a long neglected switch somewhere in your brain and you suddenly came back to life.

But you couldn’t do it.

“I’m sorry” you said gently as you broke away. You gestured to your wedding ring and Harry just smiled apologetically, kissing you chastely on the cheek as he went back to work out in the yard. It all happened so quickly you briefly wondered if it had just been your imagination.

As much as you wanted it so desperately, you had taken marriage vows. Yes, your husband wasn’t exactly keeping up his end of the bargain but that didn’t mean you had to stoop to his level. Besides, you had been happy together once. When you were young and carefree, and Lee had been a fresh faced deputy ready to fight crime and make the town a better place. You’d had no money but that was alright, going at it in the backseat of his car and spending hours at the creek just holding hands and talking about your hopes and dreams. Pooling your pennies to buy a cheeseburger for a late breakfast and splitting it down the middle, both vowing you’d go out for fancy steak dinners and champagne once you were married and he was making more money.

But climbing the ladder in the force hardened Lee, exposing him to so much violence and corruption it just became his day to day. He drank more and more to deal with the stress and his temper that had always been on the edges of your relationship moved closer and closer to the centre. You knew he resented you even though you didn’t fully understand why, perhaps because your days consisted of cleaning products and chopping vegetables safe at home, and you couldn’t begin to grasp how his world worked anymore.

That evening you made him a nice dinner and decided to make another effort to really try and bond with him. You knew it was probably out of guilt after Harry’s stolen kiss, but if it brought you two closer together then that was only a good thing.

But he didn’t come home of course, and you called the station but he’d already left and they couldn’t tell you where he was (a lie, you knew they always covered for each other with the wives). So his dinner went in the trash and you padded off to bed alone like you so often did. A crash woke you at 2am and you went downstairs to find Lee on the floor of the living room barely able to stand. You pulled him to his feet, seething, as he then collapsed into the wall knocking your beloved record player flying – you could only watch in horror as you heard it crack when it hit the hard marble of the fireplace.

It was ruined of course, beyond fixing. You sat on the floor clutching it in tears as Lee stumbled onto the couch, cursing at the wreckage and promptly passing out.

The next morning you stonily made him breakfast as he nursed a killer hangover and you were giving him the silent treatment over the incident. He knew you were upset as he was sweet as pie, which he only ever was when he felt guilty. The overenthusiastic niceness about the bacon and excessive compliments on your hair did nothing but rile you up further until you told him simply that you just wanted him to replace the record player rather than play out this ridiculous charade. He shifted in his seat and mumbled something about saving money and you finally lost it with him.

“That record player is the only thing in this house that I truly love and you DESTROYED it” you screamed. “You NEED to replace it”.

“I don’t NEED to do anythin’ with the money I bring home” he spat. “I feed ya, clothe ya, set you up pretty comfortably don’t I?? You don’t get to dictate what I do with my pay check”.

You had been furious, vibrating with rage, gripping the sink as your contempt for him flowed through your body.

“Maybe you’d have a bit more to spare if you didn’t spend so much on whiskey and whores” you had growled at him.

He stared at you in silence, his face clouded with anger. His blue eyes were so piercing that you feared they’d tear holes into your flesh. But then he merely chuckled, as if you’d said the silliest thing in the world. He went back to eating as if you weren’t even there.

“Lee, please” you reasoned, softening as you realised you needed to change tact. “I love my records. They make me so happy” you crossed the kitchen towards him, standing next to his chair and taking his hand. “Please, can we just get a new one. It’s the only thing I want, nothin’ else” you pleaded.

Lee groaned. You could see he was relenting, but not enough. The whores comment had probably stuck in his craw.

“Sorry sweetness, can’t do it right now. Maybe after a few more paychecks. I really didn’t mean to break it, I am sorry”.

He got up and kissed you on the cheek as he went to leave for work.

You waited until he’d left and then sobbed quietly at the kitchen table, your world suddenly much greyer and smaller this morning.

Harry had arrived as usual but kept himself to himself, clearly giving you space after the kiss. It was his final day working for the Bodeckers as he’d finally worked through the long list of jobs Lee set out for him. You busied yourself with your chores but it was all a lot harder without your music. You suddenly realised you couldn’t carry on like this. You’d finally had enough. Taking away your dancing was the last straw.

You brought Harry’s lunch out to him and a pitcher of sweet tea. He was as attentive and kind as ever, and your heart swelled merely be being in his presence. You knew it was now or never.

“I have your last pay from Lee and I’ll give it you when you finish up this afternoon”.

He smiled. “Thanks Mrs. B. I’ve enjoyed working here a lot. Thanks again for all your kind hospitality”.

You both looked at each other intensely, glimpses of sadness between you and it was clear neither wanted it to end.

“Harry” you said quietly, checking that no neighbours were nearby. “Would you take me somewhere tonight?”

Harry swallowed, studying you carefully as his eyes narrowed. “Uh yeah of course – but er what about-”

“He’ll be out all night” you cut him off. “Fridays are poker nights with the boys. I’ll be lucky to see him before midnight”.

Harry nodded “Alright. I’ll pick you up at eight, then”. His eyes sparkled as he smiled at you, and everything seemed a little bit more bearable.

“Okay. But I’ll meet you out at the dirt road so nobody sees us” you whispered.

He smiled back at you. “It’s a date”.

You grinned fiendishly, nodding and running back to the kitchen. The rest of the day went by in a blur, you were giddy with excitement, feeling those same butterflies you did in your teens when you first started going with Lee.

At the end of the afternoon you gave Harry his final pay as he bid you farewell and you thanked him for all his hard work. You both smiled knowingly as he walked out to his truck for the final time, co-conspirators in your private secret. You then ran the clock down until eight and finally jogged out to the dirt road. Nobody saw you, and even if they did, your neighbours knew you sometimes liked an evening stroll.

You heart pounded in your chest as you stepped into Harry’s truck and he greeted you with a sloppy kiss. You kissed him back firmly, his tongue finding yours and suddenly your fingers were through his thick hair. You didn’t even think of Lee. You just leaned into the kiss and climbed onto Harry’s lap, holding him so tightly that you might never let him go. He moaned softly against you and it was the most wonderful sound you’d heard in years. He pulled away and beamed at you, gently moving you back to your seat and he drove. He drove and drove. Far out of town and from prying eyes. You rolled the window down and felt the summer breeze whip through your hair as the truck sped through the night. You were free for a moment. Free from Lee. Free from the house. Just existing under the night sky.

Harry finally pulled over at the edge of an abandoned quarry and you just sat listening to his car radio, hands gently clasped across the seats. He brought out a liquor bottle and you shared it between you, grinning as the alcohol warmed your bellies and ran languidly through your veins. He lit up a joint and you both took puffs, you coughing weakly as you hadn’t smoked pot in years. You felt a quick thrill, the Sheriff’s wife doing drugs in the car of a young man who wasn’t her husband. You giggled as your felt your mind cloud and the substances take hold.

“I’m so glad you’re here” said Harry, as he nuzzled into your neck.

“Me too” you replied as your hands caressed his broad chest. “I wish I could stay in this moment forever”.

He nodded silently and your bodies melted into one another.

Before you knew it, Harry was lifting up your dress in the flatbed of the truck, his prickly stubble rubbing against the softness of your thighs as his lips found your core. You had gasped as his tongue worked their way into your folds, exploring every inch of you as you writhed and gyrated against him – putty in his hands. He curled a finger inside, then another, as your walls pulsed around him and you cried out into the night, your hands tight fists and your teeth biting down hard on your bottom lip. Your climax was overwhelming, a thousand explosions all happening at once as you shattered into a million pieces. Your mind was fuzzy from the drink, and the weed, and the adrenaline of this moment. Your eyes filled with tears, it was just all too much – your body had being crying out for touch, crying out for release, starved of affection and desperate for warmth for so long.

Harry wiped your eyes with his thumb and kissed you softly as he finally took you under the night sky, thrusting into you with ferocity but never roughly or crassly. You felt him entirely as you hitched your legs around his waist and allowed him to sweep you away with butterfly kisses from your breasts and up to your forehead. The stars shone brightly above as the glow of the moonlight bounced off of your skin.

Itchycoo Park by Small Faces was quietly playing on the car radio, the song echoing around the truck bed, the music filling in the gaps between your collective whimpers and moans -

“It's all too beautiful, it's all too beautiful It's all too beautiful, it's all too beautiful It's all too beautiful, it's all too beautiful”

And it was.

You both climaxed together, Harry’s hips shuddering against yours as he filled you to the brim with his spend. You weren’t on birth control but you didn’t care, all that mattered was this moment – being with him – feeling the warmth between your legs. You both lay in each other’s arms panting as you came down from the high of your orgasm, just watching the stars and enjoying the weight of one another’s bodies.

The hours slipped away and you headed home. Your heart was heavy that it was over, but you were overjoyed it had even happened. You would remember this night forever, it would be your lighthouse in the choppy sea. You could go back to it in your mind anytime you wanted. Your soul had been nourished. Your heart fed.

As you finally pulled up a few streets away from your house you checked your make-up in the mirror, it was silly really as you were only going to bed – but it was a habit, and it gave you a bit longer with Harry. He watched you attentively as you applied a bit more lipstick and carefully smoothed your hair.

“I’m movin’ to the city tomorrow” he whispered.

His words cut through you like a knife, the thought of never seeing him again chilled you. But it was probably for the best.

“Oh that’s great” you told him softly as you cupped his cheek, running a finger along his lips. “What an adventure”.

“Mm. Gonna get a good job. Start a new life”. He looked at you sadly.

“That sounds wonderful. You’ll do great things” you whispered, trying to restrain the tears from falling.

“Come with me” he said sombrely, pressing his forehead against yours.

You laughed softly, your hand clasping the back of his neck. “Oh sweetheart, I’d love to. But you know I can’t”.

“Why not?” he asked, his tone earnest and his eyes wide. “We can get an apartment together. Dance in the living room every day. I can…make you happy”.

The tears began to fall then, and you let them. For a moment you considered it – you could pack a case now and sneak out early in the morning before Lee even woke up. There was some cash stashed in the cookie jar in the kitchen cupboard, you could take that. Get a job out there, maybe wait tables or learn to type. Live with Harry and start a new life. Every fibre of your being told you to go.

But you couldn’t.

“You’ve got your whole life to live, sweetie” you told him kindly. “Go out there and live it, please. For me. You can’t have anyone holding you back”.

He smiled, his eyes watery with tears. He knew you were right.

He pulled a dog eared receipt from the floor of his truck and helped himself to the eyeliner pencil from your purse. He scribbled on the back of the receipt, his tongue poking out of his mouth as he concentrated on the words. He handed it to you silently.

Never forget that each day your beauty catches me off guard. Your Heart Belongs To Me – H

You gasped as you read it, holding it tightly to your chest.

“Thank-you, Harry. I will never forget you”.

He kissed you one last time, a delicate lingering kiss as his fingers stroked your cheek.

“I’ll think of you every time I hear that song”.

“Goodbye, Harry”.

You shared one final look, smiling warmly at one another – so much unspoken between you both, yet everything crystal clear.

And with that you stepped out into the night. It was too hard to look back, so you marched back to your house with your eyes forward, the tears falling. You clutched the note tightly in your hand as you unlocked the front door.

Lee was still out, of course. Oblivious to all that had taken place. You hid the note deep in your dresser, under piles of tangled necklaces and odd earrings which had long lost their partner but you didn’t want to throw out – ever optimistic the other would return. You got into bed and cried yourself to sleep.

That was months ago now. You’d sleepwalked through your life since, your domestic tasks much more gruelling with the absence of your records, your days quieter without Harry for company, your spirit duller now you could no longer dance. If Lee had noticed any change in you then he hadn’t shared it. The whiskey fuelled late nights continued, an endless cycle stumbling into bed in the early hours. Tedious small talk was all that you shared.

You thought about Harry each night, the feeling of his strong arms around you – the softness of his pillowy lips against your collarbone, the groans he made when he felt you wrapped around him. You’d read the note often, clutching it to your body as if you’d somehow be able to feel him through his words.

“It’s all too beautiful

It’s all too beautiful”.

All until now, when Lee had discovered your little secret.

#lee bodecker x you #sheriff lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker #My heart belongs to you fic #dark!lee bodecker

[rikuphobic]

I JUST BROKE MY JAW EATING MAC AND CHEESE

I BROKE THE SINK TRYING TO MAKE MINE

#this is true btw #i was rinsing the pot and the sink handle just came off in my hand

[bensolosbluesaber]

Returning a Favor (Zemo x Reader fic)

TFATWS Ep. 4 Spoilers!!

Summary: When your old friend, Sam Wilson, needs your help in Riga you drop everything and go. You knew they broke Baron Helmut Zemo out of jail, but you didn't expect to bond with the villain. (AKA: I thought getting hit in the face by the Shield would at least leave a bruise. Here's how that would go down with a fourth person.)

CW: Blood, wounds, some creepy behavior (not from Zemo), a few Y/N inserts

No smut yet, just cute cuddles and taking care of each other. Maybe smut in the future though! Let me know if you want a Part 2 or added to a tag list for potential future fics! I think the reader can be any gender; I tried to write it that way and be inclusive, but please tell me if I messed up!

If you know me in real life, no you don't:) I write most of my fics on @aurora521 and write on AO3 and fanfiction.net under the same name. Please don't come for me about finding Zemo attractive.

Hope you enjoy!

---

Returning a Favor

Meet me in Riga. -S

That was the text you received from Sam Wilson, your old military friend, yesterday. And now here you are, outside the Riga airport walking toward Sam in traditional undercover superhero attire- a baseball hat and sunglasses.

“Thanks for coming,” he greeted. “We have a little problem.”

“Is his name Baron Helmut Zemo by chance?” You asked, following him to a jet black sports car.

You were very aware of just what type of trouble Sam was getting himself into since you, a SWORD agent, still had access to all kinds of classified information.

“See for yourself,” Sam muttered, gesturing to the back door of the car and climbing in the driver's seat himself.

You hesitated for a moment, then opened the door and slid into the back. And yes, Zemo was there, lounging back with legs spread. He’s wearing a long coat with fur lining, a deep purple shirt, black pants, and shiny leather shoes. He nods to you and smirks ever so slightly. Bucky Barnes, who you had only heard about but recognized immediately, turns from his spot in the front seat and smiles at you.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Y/N,” he says.

“And I you,” you respond.

Sam pulls out of the parking lot with a screech of tires. The ride is mostly silent, Sam and Bucky bickering occasionally. That made you smile, knowing that as much as Bucky annoyed Sam, this was the type of relationship he craved. Zemo watched you the entire drive, sizing you up.

The home they’re staying at is obviously the Baron's. He’s comfortable there, leaning against the counters, rifling through cabinets, lounging on the couch.

“So what am I doing here?” You finally asked.

The three men interact easily, and either Sam or Bucky is always watching Zemo. There’s no real need for a fourth person to get involved, at least not in your mind.

“Someone needs to babysit the Baron,” Sam explained with an annoyed sigh.

Zemo shrugged with a smirk so innocent it’s sinister. He’s still wearing that ridiculous coat.

“The two Avengers can’t handle him?”

“I believe your friends find it challenging to be around me,” Zemo answered for Sam.

“You shot a man in the head yesterday!” Sam snapped. “You antagonize Bucky at every turn. Forgive us for needing a break from whatever is happening in your fucked up head.”

Zemo tilts his head as if agreeing with everything Sam had just said.

“Anyway,” Bucky interrupted. “We have a lead on Karli. You can sleep off some jet lag while we’re gone, but starting tonight it’s your turn to keep track of him.”

You settled into a small bedroom. The moment your head hit the pillow, you fell asleep. At home it’s nearly ten at night; here it’s midday.

The trio is back all too soon, heralded by a slam of a door, and you force yourself to wake up to adjust to the time change as rapidly and effectively as possible. As you open the door to the living room, Bucky is stalking toward Zemo. He grabs the teacup from Zemo’s hand and hurls it against the wall.

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?” Bucky growled, staring at Zemo with an unnerving glint in his eyes.

“Take it easy. Don’t engage him,” Sam jumped up and grabbed Bucky’s arm. “He’s just gonna extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing.”

Bucky’s face softened slightly. Zemo stops tilting his head.

“Let me make a call,” Sam says and walks away.

“You want some cherry blossom tea?” Zemo offers Bucky with a mocking tone.

“No. You go ahead,” Bucky hissed, and after a moment of staring, he followed Sam out of the room.

You had watched Zemo for that entire exchange, noticed the slightest flinch and hint of fear when Bucky had grabbed that cup. The moment the other two men are gone and Zemo thinks he’s alone, he pours himself another cup. His hand is steady, but he draws a sharp, unsteady breath.

You move out of the room, and Zemo looks up at you from his spot on the couch. Without a word, you walk into the kitchen, taking a roll of paper towels and carefully picking up the shattered glass.

“I can do that,” Zemo says, speaking directly to you for the first time.

His voice is calm, accent thick.

“It’s alright,” you answer, then gasp sharply as a piece slices your pointer finger from tip to palm. “Fuck.”

You set the bloody piece with the pile of glass and hold a paper towel to your hand. You used the other hand to wipe tea off the wall and floor before picking up the glass piled on a paper towel and placing it in the trash, carefully tucked in other garbage.

“Let me.”

Zemo’s voice behind you makes you jump. You eye him for a moment wondering if there is some ulterior motive, some way he could hurt you or hold you hostage. Nothing comes to mind, not with Sam and Bucky so close, so you hold out your bleeding hand. He clicks his tongue at the wound.

When he takes your hand in his, his fingers are soft and warm. He moves your wound under a faucet and lets water run, rinsing the blood down the sink. He squeezes the wound a bit, and you wince as it begins to bleed more.

“We bleed to clean our wounds. It is the body’s way of protecting itself,” he says and presses a towel to your finger as he shuts off the water. “Ironic isn’t it. The very thing meant to protect us from future danger, often kills us first.”

“I’m not here to debate the ethics of superheroes with you.”

“Hold that,” he lets go of your hand and opens another cabinet. “I know how I feel about enhanced humans. There is nothing for me to debate.”

Zemo takes your hand back in his. You watch his face as he works. He uses his mouth to remove the wrapping from a butterfly bandage. The bleeding has slowed, and he uses the bandage to pull your torn skin back together. The cut isn’t terrible, certainly not the worst injury you’ve ever had, but it will scar. He adds two more strips, then places an absorbent pad over it and wraps it all in gauze.

“When we get back, I’ll change that for you.”

“I’ll hope you don’t get killed then,” you offer with a grateful smile.

He doesn’t respond but gestures to you to join on the couch. You do, keeping what you feel is a safe distance between the two of you. Zemo hands you a cup of warm tea, but as you grab it, he doesn’t let go. Your undamaged fingers brush his for a long moment and he chuckles.

“Promise not to take after your friend James? I quite like this tea set.”

Your eyebrows knit together as he smiles at his own joke and finally surrenders the cup to you. That’s the last words you two exchange, and when Bucky and Sam return ready for the next part of the mission, they find the two of you sitting in silence sharing a pot of tea.

___

When the three men returned, Sam and Bucky held an unconscious Zemo between them. You jumped off the couch, the book you had been reading discarded, and let them lay Zemo down.

“What happened?”

“John Walker,” the two men answered in the same disgusted tone.

You leaned over Zemo, finally seeing the blood and bruise on his right temple.

“This one disappeared for a few minutes, shot Karli-”

“Didn’t kill her,” Sam interrupted, sounding relieved.

Much like Sam, you sympathized with Karli’s motives if not her methods. And much like Sam, you were glad she hadn’t died.

“Then Walker knocked him out with the shield,” Bucky finished.

There was no jab at Sam this time for which you were grateful.

“Which is the only useful thing he did,” Sam added. “Zemo destroyed the rest of the serum, so right now he’s above Walker in my book.”

You looked down at Zemo, blood had dripped down his face and neck, though most of it was dried now. His eyelids twitched as he slept.

“Are you two okay?” You asked as you walked toward the bathroom.

“Fine. We ditched Walker, but we’ll need to get out of here as soon as we figure out what to do with Karli,” Sam answered, collapsing on the couch with a heavy sigh.

You dampened a washcloth in the bathroom and on your way back to the living room, grabbed the first aid kit Zemo had used on you earlier.

“What are you doing? He’ll be fine,” Bucky muttered.

He was sitting next to Sam now.

“Returning a favor,” you answered as you knelt at Zemo’s side.

You dabbed at the drying blood with the cloth, wiping it off his cheek, out of his hair. Somehow the coat came out unscathed. Sam and Bucky were talking about something behind you, but you were entirely focused on the unconscious man.

Zemo had a handsome, aristocratic face, and he walked like royalty, like he was untouchable. This was evidence he wasn’t.

You moved to the actual wound next. The cloth was soft, unreasonably so. A large hand wrapped around your wrist, squeezing tightly. You inhale sharply and shift your gaze to Zemo’s hand then his eyes. When your eyes met his, he seemed to relax, releasing you and letting his hand fall at his side.

“Apologies,” he grunted, mouth twitching with pain.

“It’s alright,” you answer calmly, very aware that the other men had stopped talking and were fixated on a potential threat. “Turn your head please.”

You put a hand on his cheek and turned him to face you to get a better look at the wound that was still seeping slowly.

“The new Captain America might force me to reconsider my stance on superheroes. I would enjoy seeing Sam and James have a go at him,” Zemo said as you prod the wound.

You wiped the cut with antiseptic, and Zemo hissed a bit at that but said nothing. Then, just like he had done to you, you placed three butterfly bandages on the cut. It wasn’t deep, just long and jagged.

“You’re my new favorite,” he joked with a little grin.

You laughed and walked to the kitchen for some ice. There were no packs, so you grabbed a bag of frozen peas, wrapped them in a towel and set it gently on Zemo’s temple.

“I can’t have you dying when I need this changed tonight,” you said, holding up a finger.

When you turned around, Sam and Bucky had both stretched out on the couch. They both wore annoyed expressions that Zemo got a whole couch and they got one to share. Bucky bumped Sam’s foot with his own, much to your amusement and Sam’s annoyance. He kicked his partner back, and you decided not to interrupt their little couples spat. Instead, you move to sit on the ground.

Zemo grabbed your wrist again, this time gently. He tucked his legs up, folding them into a V, and motioned you to share his couch. And you did, sitting in the same spot you had earlier, this time near his feet still clad in shiny black leather shoes.

“Hey, you two,” Sam called. “What’s this cozy little couch situation going on here?”

“You two could have a cozy little couch situation too if you’d just talk to each other,” Zemo shot back.

He didn’t even look at Sam, just held the frozen vegetables to his face, eyes closed.

“Y/N?” Zemo asked after a moment. “Can you get me an Advil? Or better yet, some sort of alcoholic beverage?”

“I’m not your servant, Zemo,” you sighed but stood and poured him a glass of some expensive alcohol from a bottle with Sokovian writing.

He sipped it, setting it on his chest between sips as he lounged on the couch with you. Bucky was watching you out the corner of his eye, and you were watching Zemo. Every few sips he would grimace, his lips pressing together and chest catching. Then he’d relax, exhale softly and shift the peas back into place. Eventually you picked up your book and began to read again.

Sam left the room to take a phone call a few hours later and came back shaking.

“Karli threatened Sarah, my nephews. I have to meet with her. Alone.”

“I’m coming with you,” Bucky jumped in, already on his feet. “Walker will be there, and you can’t handle the Super Soldiers and Captain Propaganda on your own.”

Zemo was either asleep or doing a good job pretending beside you. The pea bag had been returned to the freezer. He’d discarded his coat and was now wearing only his black pants and a deep purple shirt with shoulder holsters.

“You got him?” Sam pointed to the sleeping man.

“That’s what I’m here for,” you answered, setting the book aside and watching them prepare to leave.

Both men donned their costumes, Sam strapping his wings on, Bucky ripping the sleeve off of yet another jacket so his metal arm could move freely.

“Call me- us if you need backup,” you shouted after them, knowing full well they would do no such thing.

“If we aren’t back in two hours, take his ass back to jail,” Bucky called back.

Baron Zemo woke up the minute the door slammed shut, which made you doubt he’d been sleeping at all.

“And now it is only us,” he said in that thick Sokovian accent. “I will cook us something for dinner.”

He moved into the kitchen, boiling a pot of water while you watched. You perched yourself on the counter near him as he searched through cabinets. When he noticed you, he paused and chuckled before returning to the cooking. You watched in silence, keeping a close eye on him when he picked up a knife and began chopping tomatoes from a can.

He handed you a bowl of thin noodles with a thick red sauce. It smelled delicious.

“A traditional and simple Sokovian dish, a comfort food you might say,” he explained and joined you on the counter. “I made enough for Sam and James. Call me an optimist.”

Zemo didn’t talk much, you realized, as you enjoyed the food in silence. It was delicious, a bit like pasta. Suddenly, the back door clicked open. You glance around nervously, realizing just how wrong this felt.

“They shouldn’t be back yet,” you say quietly. “And they wouldn’t come in the back.”

“My old associates must have found me,” Zemo jumps off the table, and you notice the same nervousness as when Bucky threw the cup. He cannot know about James or Sam.”

You can hear a single person strolling toward the kitchen in heavy boots.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Zemo whispered, and before you could even process the words, he was standing between your legs and pressing his lips to yours.

His movements are slow and careful, trying not to be invasive as he moves his hands to your back, sliding one up to the back of your head. You wrap an arm around his waist and slide the other hand up the front of his purple shirt, splaying your fingers across his chest. His lips are soft and warm as they move against yours. His hand keeps you from pulling away, not that you’d want to.

“I heard you were back in Riga,” a new voice chuckled. “I had to see for myself.”

Zemo pulls back, feigning surprise, but kept an arm protectively around you.

“And as you have undoubtedly noticed, I am quite busy,” he replied. “Perhaps you could come back tomorrow? I’d prefer not to discuss our business in front of…”

Zemo nods to you. You were staring at the man who you recognized from work files. He was a former Shield agent. When Shield fell, he used the chaos for his own advantage, working for neither Shield nor Hydra and killing anyone who stood in his way. You suspected, but couldn’t be sure, that some of your best friends had been killed by him. Fortunately, you had enough self-control not to shoot him. His mere presence made you tense and uncomfortable.

“Of course, Baron,” he grinned and look at you in a way that made you shift closer to Zemo. “I’ll see you tomorrow, noon. The usual place.”

He gave the two of you one last look and left with a wink to Zemo. Even when the other man had gone, Zemo’s hands were still holding you against him.

“We will have to be gone before noon tomorrow,” he said looking down at you.

For some reason, you were both still wrapped around each other.

“You know who he is?” Zemo said, a statement masquerading as a question. “I am sorry.”

Your face was only inches from him, and you could smell his cologne. Zemo used the hand on your head to pull you against his shoulder. You set your head there, face turned into his neck, and inhaled deeply. And there he sat and you stood, hugging tightly for no real reason except that no one else was there.

Zemo pressed a soft kiss to your head, and rather than protest you let his lips linger. Finally, his head fell on your shoulder. After a moment, he slid you off the counter, took your hand, and led you back to the couch. Without asking, the two of you settled together on the couch, so close your sides pressed against each other. He pulled a gun out of his shoulder holster, and you froze until he set it down on the table, smirking a little.

“I don’t make a habit of shooting people I’ve just kissed,” he chuckled and raised an arm for you to lean against him.

You raised an eyebrow at him, surprised at the forwardness. You shouldn’t be, after all, he had just kissed you and held you on the counter of his kitchen. Helmut Zemo made no sense to you, but in the end, you curled against him. He shifted to lay on his back, head propped on the pillows he was laying on earlier while you tucked yourself beside him, head on his chest.

Zemo wrapped an arm around you. You put a hand on his chest, fingering the purple shirt. He was warm and soft, and you had to remind yourself that you could not fall asleep while you are supposed to be watching him.

“Why are we doing this?” You whisper. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why are you?” Zemo turns his head toward you.

“I haven’t had someone to do this with in a long time,” you answer slowly, cautiously, knowing full well this was a man who could turn on you on an instant or hold onto information until the moment it was advantageous to him.

“Neither have I,” He replied. “German prisons don’t allow much physical contact. Besides, I hope that with enough time perhaps I may kiss you again.”

You tilted your head up to see a grin tugging at the side of his lips, lips that had been on yours a few minutes ago.

“Maybe with enough time,” you answer and brush a lose strand of hair out of his eyes, letting your hand trail over the bruise on his face.

He caged your hand in his, bringing your joined hands back to his chest and holding them there. You felt the rise and fall of his breaths and it soothed you. When they grew deep and steady and the tension seemed to fall from his body, you realized he was truly asleep, not faking like earlier. Soon and against your better judgment, you were dozing off in his arms tossing a leg over his so your limbs tangled together.

Your last thought before you fell asleep was how warm and comfortable you felt with Helmut Zemo, and how completely ludicrous such a thought was.

It wasn’t long before the door opening woke you, still secure in Zemo’s arms. You tried to move, sit up so Sam and Bucky wouldn’t see this little arrangement. You failed. Bucky came in first, stopping in his tracks as he saw the scene on the couch.

“What are you doing? Keep walk- what?” Sam ran right into Bucky’s back then froze.

Their eyes were wide as they stared. Zemo shifted awake beneath you, and you could imagine the smirk on his face. Bucky’s metal fist clenched, and Sam, ever the peacemaker grabbed his arm and opted for a more amicable approach.

“One of you better start talking.”

#tfatws spoilers #tfatws #baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #zemo fic #zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #spoilers #soft zemo #self insert fic #zemo x you #baron zemo x you #helmut zemo x you #zemo x reader fic #daniel brühl

[fruitcoops]

hii would you write a coops fic that takes place before they’re out when they’re still sneaking around but have like a sweet date night at remus’s apartment

Of course! This is a continuation of Newcomers and Nargles, where Remus babysits Luna Lovegood. Hope you enjoy! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

“Thank you for having me over,” Sirius said quietly as he pressed a kiss to the corner of Remus’ mouth. The only light came from his kitchen, which was far enough away that they were left in soft shadows on his couch. “Really, Re, this is wonderful.”

“There’s no need to be so formal,” he laughed, though Sirius could see the pink flush spreading to his ears. “It’s just pasta and my apartment.”

“I love your apartment.”

The flush deepened. “Moody calls it my hamster cage. You had to duck to get in the door.”

“Details.” Sirius leaned forward for a proper kiss to his lips; they had set a timer for the pasta and had a while yet, if his memory was correct. Plenty of time to settle himself more comfortably in Remus’ lap and kiss him until he got the glazed look in his eyes that Sirius adored.

He wanted this all the time. To come home with Remus every night, without fear of the wrong person (or anyone, really) seeing them. He wanted to kiss him in public and keep his hand in Remus’ back pocket like a cliché movie couple and watch Remus light up when he held his hand. He wanted.

Remus made a soft noise and slid his arms around his waist, holding him light and cozy while he traced small swirls on the small of Sirius’ back. It sent goosebumps racing along his spine—Sirius cupped Remus’ jaw in his hands and hummed his approval. The room was so wonderfully warm, filled with the smell of cooking pasta and sauce on the stove. They had made it together; shoulder-to-shoulder, hip-to-hip, trading kisses in the steam.

God, he wanted it so much it ached.

Remus trailed light kisses along his neck, taking pauses to nuzzle Sirius’ skin and nibble his collarbones. Sirius buried his face in honey curls and let himself believe this was his everyday life. Their everyday life.

A quick knock at the door shattered the illusion. Sirius felt the blood flee his face as they both froze. “Who is that?” he managed.

“I don’t know,” Remus whispered. His pupils were dilated with fear and, with a pained look, he guided Sirius off his lap so he could stand and turn the rest of the lights on. His slender hands smoothed his sweater and jeans in methodical movements, but Sirius saw their tremors.

He distracted himself from panic by looking around the apartment and all its knickknacks; the feeling of being surrounded by Remus in his most distilled form was unparalleled. A little granite wolf figurine sat with its wooden counterpart on the table by the door; dozens of pictures of family and friends scattered the walls with no rhyme or reason to their placement. It was cluttered in the best possible way, and Sirius wanted his whole life to look like it.

The door clicked open. “Hello?”

“Remus!” a woman’s voice exclaimed. “I’m so glad you answered.”

Sirius glanced over and saw Remus’ whole body relax as he opened the door further with a smile. “Hey, Pandora, how are you?”

“Doing fine, doing fine. It’s Phil and I’s anniversary and we’ve got dinner at 7:18, but Luna’s babysitter came down with a cold and can’t make it. We just got the text an hour ago and we were hoping you could watch her while we’re out.”

“Oh.” Remus’ eyebrows shot up. “I—well, I have a friend over for dinner, but we made plenty of pasta for one more, I s’pose. Sirius, is that okay with you?”

It took him a moment longer than was prudent to get over the fact that Remus—kind-hearted, friendly, beautiful, so beautiful—was asking his opinion on letting a kid join their date. Their top-secret, possibly-life-ruining-if-discovered date. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Oh, I’m so rude!” the woman gasped. She poked her head around the doorway and waved to Sirius—her long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulder in a messy plait, and her dress seemed to be made of a variety of beads. She was pretty, with a combination of angular features and a heart-shaped face that nudged a memory in the very back of his mind. “I’m Pandora Lovegood, from 7A. It’s so lovely to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you as well.” He padded over and held a hand out to shake, but to his surprise she took it turned it over, furrowing her brow at his palm.

“Well, that’s quite the love line!” She smiled and patted his cheek. Her eyes were glacial blue, but somehow still as warm as a crackling hearth. “Good for you. Your life line isn’t bad, either. I’ll be back with Luna in a moment!”

“Have a good night, Pandora!” Remus called as she fluttered away. “Say hi to Phil for me!”

Sirius was still standing in mild shock when the door closed. “Pandora, Luna, and…Phil?”

“Xenophilius,” Remus said. The corners of his mouth twitched. “Her husband, and Luna’s dad.”

“Hell of a name.”

“We can’t really judge, can we?” Some of his amusement dimmed and he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry for ruining our date. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, it’s alright,” Sirius said quickly, kissing his cheek until he smiled. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

Remus looked a bit sad as he looked up despite his smile. “Yeah, but this is our only time together.”

“It’s not the last time I can ever come over to your apartment,” Sirius reminded him as he ran his hands up Remus’ arms. “I think it’s great that you’re doing this for your neighbors. It shows how caring, and sweet, and wonderful—”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” he laughed, cutting Sirius off with a vivid blush.

“Besides, I agreed to this.” He nudged their noses together. “I’m pretty sure my impressive love line can handle another date sometime soon.”

Remus grinned as he leaned in. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Black.”

“Are you going to stop me?”

A tumbling sound came from outside, followed by a peal of giggling and a sharp pattern of knocking. “I did a cartwheel!” a tiny ball of blonde curls announced as it launched itself at Remus’ legs the second the door opened. “Hi, Remus!”

He caught her with a slight wince as Sirius tried to calm his pounding heart. “Hey, sunshine, are you ready for some dinner?”

“Oh, yes, please.” She wriggled down from his arms and gave her mother a bear hug, beaming when her face was covered in kisses.

“Be good,” Pandora said as she set Luna down and brushed her hair out of her face. “Listen to Remus and his friend. We’ll be back by ten at the latest. Thank you both again for doing this. I’ll bring over some cookies tomorrow, Remus.”

“That’s very sweet, Pandora.” Remus’ eyes tensed at the edges, as if he was in pain at the very thought. Pandora whisked herself toward the stairs again and Sirius shut the door behind her. “Luna, do you—”

“I remember you!” Sirius turned and found himself staring into the biggest pair of blue eyes he had ever seen. The memory came rushing back in a flood—Remus, frazzled and fluffed at the edges, with a little girl balanced on his hip. Luna stood on her tippy-toes and he leaned down so she could take his face in her hands. After a moment, she nodded. “You’ve done an excellent job of keeping the nargles away, Mr. Sirius.”

“Thank you.”

“Mama said you and Remus were making pasta. May I have some, please?”

“Of course you can,” Remus assured her, ushering her into the kitchen with a sweep of his arm. “After you, my lady.”

Sirius waited until Luna had safely skipped out of earshot before bending toward Remus’ ear. “Why does she…?”

“Talk like a normal kid and then a Victorian orphan?”

“Yeah.”

“Dunno. I guess that’s what happens when your mom’s a chemist and part-time psychic and your dad owns The Quibbler.” There wasn’t a trace of judgement on Remus’ face as he raised his voice by a few degrees. “Be careful by the stove, honeybun.”

“I will!” Luna chirped back. Sirius couldn’t place why, but he held undeniable affection for the little girl, even after only two meetings. She was unapologetically odd; he was sure he could never get bored of talking with her.

Luna sat on the countertop while they served up dinner, happy as a clam as she recounted her and her father’s hunt for Fizzing Whizbees at the candy store. They were her mother’s favorite, apparently, but Luna had yet to see one in real life. Her conversational skills came to a sharp halt during dinner; it was so startling that Sirius grew concerned after two minutes without her high-pitched contributions.

“Luna? Are you alright?”

“Hmm?” She looked up from her plate with a curious glance between them and gave Sirius a bright smile. “I’m making an octocapus.”

“An octopus?” Remus leaned over to look. “Wow, you got all the legs with your noodles! Way to go!”

“You’re a great artist,” Sirius agreed as Luna continued working on her masterpiece.

“Yeah, I know.”

He bit his lip to keep in his laughter and met Remus’ eyes; at first, he had been a bit worried about babysitting during a date, but he couldn’t imagine a better way to spend the night. When their plates were clean and Sirius was warm and drowsy from carbohydrates, Remus collected the dishes and headed back into the kitchen despite Sirius’ offers for help.

Luna gave a wide yawn with her head propped on one hand and turned to Sirius the moment Remus turned the sink on. “Do you give Remus kisses?”

It took all of Sirius’ self-control not to accidentally spew water all over the literal child sitting across from him. Instead, he coughed and spluttered into his napkin while the alarms in his brain began to blare. Remus showed no sign of hearing their conversation while he rinsed out the large pasta pot. “What?”

“I’d like it if you did,” Luna continued with nothing but her usual dreamy expression. “Remus needs friends, and mama says he could use some kisses.”

“I think everyone could use some kisses,” Sirius said evasively. His heart galloped in his chest.

“Hmm. Yeah. How long have you been friends?”

“We’ve known each other a little longer than you’ve been alive, but we’ve only been friends for about two years.”

“That’s a good amount of time.”

“Oh?”

She put her chin in both palms, suddenly looking much older than she was. “I’ve been alive for four whole years. That’s a long time. If you’ve known someone for four whole years, you should give them kisses.”

Sirius stared at her. “That’s quite the philosophy.”

“What’s that?”

“An idea.”

“Why didn’t you just say ‘idea’?”

“I…don’t know.”

She hummed a little under her breath. “Will you color with me?”

“Yes,” he answered as relief coursed through him. He had no clue how she had gone from blunt questions that could turn his whole world upside down to coloring, but he didn’t care. “Yes, I would love to.”

Luna slid off her seat and hopped over to Remus’ desk, then dug around in the drawers and emerged with a few sheets of blank paper and some pens. “I’m bad at outlines. Will you draw them for me?”

“Absolutely.”

------------------------

Luna fell asleep halfway through coloring a Kneazle with Remus, which as far as Sirius could understand was just a cat that had its face squished. But it made her happy, and he would draw a million squishy cats to keep her questions about Remus to a minimum.

As soon as Remus finished tucking her in beneath a heavy blanket on the couch, he turned and crushed his lips against Sirius’ like a man dying for air. The kiss lasted long enough that Sirius was staring to get lightheaded before finding himself the (quite enthusiastic) recipient of a rib-crushing hug. They held each other for a few minutes, silent and swaying, before Remus let him go with a final kiss and they began to clean up the mess.

True to her word, Pandora returned just before ten pm with a blond man at her side and a big hug for her daughter. “Goodnight, Luna,” Remus whispered. They received a sleepy wave in response and then, finally, they were alone. “You are the best person ever.”

Sirius wound his arms around Remus’ waist and melted a little when strong hands combed through his hair. “Funny, I could say the same thing about you.”

“I didn’t know you could draw.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I can doodle. It’s nothing fancy.”

“You drew imaginary monsters based on descriptions from a four-year-old.” Remus cupped his cheek and rested their foreheads together. “You’re amazing.”

“This was a pretty awesome date,” he mumbled, closing his eyes to bask in their little bubble.

“We should do it again sometime. Preferably without the child, though.”

Sirius’ smile came all the way from his heart as he buried his face in the slope of Remus’ neck. “As long as I get to be with you, I’m happy.”

It was the closest thing to ‘I love you’ he could bring himself to admit, but for now, it would have to do.

#sirius black #remus lupin #coops #luna lovegood #pandora lovegood #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #babysitting #date night

[hallowed-be-thy-username]

if your requests are open dear, could I request something ? I've had J getting wounded and being an absolute dramatic mess on my mind this week and I was thinking you could turn it into a short drabble ? Maybe smutty ? Thank you eek !!

Hello anon! 💖

Oh my goodness I’m sorry this has taken me so long!! I’ve had a lot going on and my creative ability has suffered from it but I finally finished this and I hope you like it!

Self-insert, Ledger Joker x fem reader, whump

Word count: 1703

Warnings: blood (!), blood loss, injury, injured J, angry shouting, light smut

Hurt

You struggled to kick the door to your bathroom open, trying to support his much taller frame across your shoulders at the same time. The sound of his groans echoed off of the tile once you switched on the light and managed to get both of you through the doorway.

He growled and cursed loudly, almost pulling you down with him, when you dropped his arm from around your shoulders and lowered him into the bathtub. His chest rose and fell with deep, heavy breaths once his back settled against the porcelain, but you took no time to catch your own breath before springing to the cabinet to look for your first aid supplies.

You should have figured this day would come, when he’d show up at your door, shirt wet with blood – his blood, barely able to stand on his own and nearly incoherent. Where else could he go for help? The hospital wasn’t exactly a great option for a guy like him. And even with his reputation, no matter how notorious, he was bound to get hurt for all of the shit he stirred up. If you were smart, you thought, you would have had your first aid kit ready for action as soon as you started seeing Joker regularly. But, since a first aid kit was nowhere to be found, you had to improvise.

Cursing under your breath, you tossed towels and half-empty bottles of hair care products that never lived up to your expectations over your shoulder in search of something to clean up the blood with so that you could better assess the damage. A bar of plain soap would have to do.

Turning back toward the tub, you stopped in your tracks and stared for a moment at the sight in front of you. His face was twisted with pain and strands of his stringy green hair stuck to his brow, his greasepaint tacky from his sweat. His vest was open, and his shirt was plastered to his skin, the fabric saturated with blood. Another groan through gritted teeth snapped you out of your trance and you rushed to kneel beside the tub, reaching over the edge to loosen his tie and to start to unbutton his shirt.

Some of the buttons were sticky with a mixture of dried and fresh blood, making it even more difficult for your shaky fingers to slide them through their holes. Your eyes couldn’t open any wider than they already were as you mustered up an intense amount of concentration just to open his torn shirt, uncertain about what you were going to see and whether you’d be able to handle it. There was a lot of blood. Had he been shot? Stabbed? Mauled? It seemed you were in a similar position as Joker was, the adrenaline buzzing through your veins being the only thing keeping you conscious.

Holding your breath once the last button slipped free, you pulled the shirt open. A mixture of relief and nausea washed over you and made the sweat on your brow feel cold before you let out a sigh. A nasty gash in his side continued to ooze blood but didn’t seem to be as bad as you’d prepared yourself for. Gross, yes, but not life threatening.

“Look at you, hm? Gettin’ your hands dirty,” Joker panted before letting out another groan and squeezing his eyes shut when a giggle tugged painfully on his wound.

Maybe if you slapped him, his injury would hurt less. But the return of his irksome sarcastic attitude was actually quite a relief. If he could crack jokes, then he must be in okay shape despite the blood loss. You stood from beside the tub to grab a washcloth and quickly run it under the sink faucet, making a sudsy lather with the bar of soap. Returning to kneel at the edge of the tub, you reached down to start cleaning blood from around the wound.

“AHH! FUCK!” Joker shouted and firmly grabbed your wrist to wrench it away from his torso, firmly gritting his teeth.

You whipped your head up to face him and yelled back, “I have to clean it!”

His grip on your wrist tightened, wincing as his heavy breaths strained the edges of the wound while keeping his eyes on yours. “Do ya now?” His voice dropped deep and you both became still.

You stared back and blinked at him. You should have guessed he’d be the type who doesn’t like things done for him. But you doubted he’d be as thorough as you would be. Swallowing down your nerves, you answered, “Are yougoing to do it then?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he drew in a breath before resting his head back against the tub, letting go of your wrist. “If you wanted to play doctor, you should’ve just said so. I like a woman in scrubs.”

The tension in the air dissolved and he clicked his tongue before a twinge in his side made him flinch and suck on his teeth. Was he compromising? It seemed that way. It was like he had to hold on to some sort of control over the situation to let you help him. It kind of made your stomach flutter.

You smirked and answered, “Well I don’t own any scrubs… so maybe next time.”

He hummed and licked his lips, looking at you then back down at his side. His eyes told you to get on with it and you suddenly felt much more nervous. Heat rose up into your cheeks now that he was watching you and the buzz of adrenaline was wearing off, but you told yourself that you can do this.

Taking a deep breath, you cautiously brought the cloth back to his wound, gently wiping its edges. He was still at first, then tensed his abdomen when you started to apply pressure, making your heart beat that much faster. But you had to keep going. You couldn’t leave it like this and let it get infected. He groaned and brought his knuckle between his teeth to bite down on it as you got to work cleaning up the dried blood.

He growled and squirmed in the tub, making it difficult to be delicate but you bit back your desire to tell him to be still. Once the soap cleared away the last of the debris, you dropped the cloth and quickly stood to go grab a cup from the kitchen to rinse it. He wasn’t the only one who was relieved that you’d finished.

“Don’t really have a light touch do ya, doll?” he said as you re-entered the bathroom.

You couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows. If that wasn’t the pot calling the kettle black then you didn’t know what was. “Well, you weren’t being very cooperative.”

Joker let out a sharp giggle before scrunching up his face and groaning again while he gripped the sides of the tub. You smiled to yourself and approached the sink to fill the plastic cup you’d retrieved with warm water.

“Mmm that’s ok, I like a little pain,” you heard him reply from behind you.

Turning around, you to see him flash a haughty grin at you before bouncing his eyebrows. You smirked back at him before raising the cup and dumping the of water over him, splashing away the soap as he growled loudly, and you giggled.

Of course, after all of that, you found your first aid supplies after helping him out of the tub as well as his bloodied and soaking wet shirt, but not without a symphony of curses and yelling. Once you’d applied a bandage to the wound and secured a gaze wrap that would hold him over until you could find a way to stitch him up, you lead him to your bed where he flopped onto his back.

Letting out a deep groan he said, “Ya know, you should consider a career in torture. You’ve got a knack for it, doll face.”

You chuckled as you pulled his shoes off of his feet where they hung over the edge of the bed and asked, “Was that a job offer?”

He laughed, making him groan once again from the tugging at his side and you were struck with a strange feeling. That flutter in your stomach. It was almost like pride, but not quite. The man who needed no one came to you for help. Maybe it didn’t mean as much as you thought it did, but that’s ok. The thought that he trusted you enough to turn to you when something went wrong made your heart soar and your belly feel warm.

“So, this is what that much blood loss does to you, huh?”

You smiled at him from the foot of the bed as he lifted his head and answered, “I still have some left.”

The warmth in your belly rose up to your face and compelled you to cautiously climb on top of him, careful to avoid putting any strain on his wound as you gently pressed your pelvis against his. Your heart pounded while you waited for his reaction before a low hum rumbled in his chest as his hands traveled up your sides.

Goosebumps followed his fingertips, and the heat of your breath met his when you leaned forward to ask softly, “Do you have enough left for me to help dull that pain a bit?”

His lips curved into a smile and hands lightly squeezed your waist as he answered with a deep chuckle, “Mmm let’s find out, shall we?”

Your smile matched his before locking your lips together in a kiss, his hands moving to stroke your thighs while you reached to pull his zipper down, your fingers grazing against his hardened cock. Heavy breaths through your noses mixed together while your tongues tangled together and you sank down onto his freed length, the delicious pressure making you moan into his mouth. Your hips rocked slowly against his where you straddled his lap, low groans coming from his throat as his head tilted back and his hands traveled your torso while you helped him forget he was hurt at all.

Taglist! @youmaycallmebrian @heavymetalnarwhal @neverputsaltinyoureyes @jokersqueenofchaos @into-crazy @killingjokee @astheworlddturns @jslittlebirdie @drreidsconverse @vipervixxen

#anon request #heath ledger joker #ledger joker #tdk joker #ledger!joker #ledger joker x reader #ledger joker x you #ledger joker whump #tw blood #tw injury #smutty fic #light smut

[tchallasbabymama]

All For Us Chapter 6

Here it is, enjoy 😘

Check out my masterlist to catch up on this story or read my other ones, and let me know if you want to be tagged.

Word count: 5686

“Daddy’s here!” Imani yelled in excitement before hopping down off the kitchen stool and running to the door as soon as she heard it open. 

Erik had only been back with them for about a week, but in that short amount of time, he and his Cupcake had become attached at the hip. He read her bedtime stories every night, and he took her to school in the mornings so the two of them could have daddy-daughter bonding time. Erik and Mira would pick her up together at the end of the day, and it had become such a habit over the few short days they stayed in the palace that when Mira showed up to pick Imani up from school by herself, the little girl was crushed. She instantly became worried that Erik was gone again and burst into tears, but Mira was able to calm her down and remind her of their conversation the night before about his new job.

“Baby girl, we have to talk to you about something,” Mira said as she and Erik entered their daughter’s room.

“What is it?” Imani put her crayons down and looked up at her parents as they came and sat on the floor across from her. 

“The three of us are going on an adventure around Wakanda!” exclaimed Mira.

“Really?!” Imani perked up. “What kind of adventure?” 

“Well, we can’t really get to know Wakanda well without exploring it, right?” Erik chimed in.

“Right!”

“So we’re gonna spend the next couple months living in the different provinces. You’ll still get to go to your same school with your friends, but you’ll get to make even more friends all over Wakanda.”

“I know how much you like being here with Auntie, and Lala, and Shuri-” Mira began before her child corrected her.

“And Okoye, and A’Kidi, and Ayo,” Imani said with a smile.

“Yes, them too,” Mira chuckled. “You’ll still get to come visit, and the adventure is only for a few months. We’ll be right back here in no time. What do you think?”

“II like it! Where are we going?”

“Well, you know how it snowed back home a few months ago, and you got to play outside in it?”

“Mhm.” Imani nodded furiously.

“First, we’re going someplace where it’s like that every day! It’s called Jabariland,” Mira said with a flourish.

“Jabariland?”

“Mhm, and then we’ll be out in the countryside for a while. We’ll be close to Shuri’s lab, and she said you could come visit her whenever.”

“After that, we’ll be out near the rhinos. Mommy told me how much you love feeding them,” Erik smiled down at her.

“Their tongues tickle,” Imani giggled.

“Then, we’re gonna go live on the river, and then we’ll be back here.”

“I still get to see my friends at school?”

“Absolutely,” Erik answered.

“And our family?”

“At least once a week for Sunday dinner, but knowing them, we’ll see them more than that,” Mira smirked and started tickling Imani. “I don’t think Lala can go more than a couple of days without spoiling his favorite girl.”

Imani’s giggles filled the room and brought a smile to Erik’s face. Mira let her go, and as Imani came down from her giggle fit, she could see that her daughter had more to say.

“What are you gonna do on our adventure when I’m at school?”

“We’ll be going to work and making friends of our own.”

Imani nodded as she took in the information and processed it. Her newly-snaggletoothed smile slowly took over her face and pushed her dimples deep into her cheeks. “When can we go?”

“We start tomorrow,” Mira said with a smile on her face, pleased with how the conversation went. She should have known Imani would be excited about their little “adventure,” but hearing the words quelled her anxieties. She had been worried about how Imani would adjust to the changes, but the little girl seemed down for the ride.

When they got back to their new home in Jabariland, Imani was amazed by the soft blanket of white that covered their corner of Wakanda. Mira wrapped her up in her furs before sliding into her own, both provided by the king, of course, and they spent some time outdoors playing in the snow. Mira knew she had a couple more hours until Erik got home, so once the cold had seeped into their bones enough, they went inside, and she started a yam stew on the stove.

When Erik walked in he was dog tired. His body had been worn down by his day of firefighter training. Despite having the heart-shaped herb in his system, he was in much worse shape than he thought after having laid dormant for two years. He wanted nothing more than to soak in the tub and climb into bed, but when he heard Imani’s voice, he forgot all about his exhaustion.

He kicked off his boots and scooped her up into his arms, leaving smooches all over her face. “How was school today?”

“Good! We started learning addition and subtraction. Mommy was just helping me with it.”

“Addition and subtraction already?” Erik asked Mira as he moseyed into the kitchen. “She’s four.”

“And a half,” Imani corrected.

“Excuse me, she’s four and a half, and they already have them doing that?”

“Mhm, and doing it well. Look at her homework,” Mira gestured to the projection coming from the holopad on the counter. Sure enough, he saw her work going all the way up to 10+10.

“Wow, good job, Cupcake!” He high-fived her and set her back down on the same stool she hopped off of moments earlier. 

“So, how was work today?” Mira asked as she stirred the simmering stew, and Erik fought the urge to stare at her bubble butt in those red bicycle shorts. Her cropped adinkra symbol t-shirt dusted right above her navel, and he could see she was wearing her favorite strand of waistbeads. 

He tore his eyes away from her and double-checked Imani’s homework for errors as he sighed, “I’m out of shape. They’re probably gonna put me on communications, and I can’t say I’m mad at it.”

“You were asleep for two years. I’m sure that affected your body in some way.”

“Yeah, but I’m supposed to be faster and stronger...I need to talk to T’Challa about it,” he mumbled with a crease in his brow.

“I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Yeah...what you cooking over there?” Erik hopped up and joined Mira by the stove, breathing in whatever delicious concoction she had whipped up.

“A nice, hearty stew. I wanted to play around with some flavors, so I hope you like it.”

“Girl, every time you experiment in the kitchen, that shit comes out tasting like heaven. I trust you.”

“Thank you,” Mira hid her face so he couldn’t see the slight deepening of her skin tone at his words, but he noticed. She quickly changed the subject to distract him, waving the wooden spoon in his face, “And don’t curse around Imani.”

Erik put his hands up in surrender as he backed away, “Yes, ma’am.”

He kissed the top of Imani’s head before going down the hall to his room to change out of his heavy clothing. 

It was the first time just the three of them had sat down together for dinner in years, and Mira’s appetite almost left her entirely as her emotions started to take over. She pushed them down deep and forced some stew into her system before getting up to clean the kitchen. Erik could tell something was wrong, so when Imani went to her room to play with her dolls, he took the opportunity to investigate.

He brought the empty bowls over to the sink and scooted her out of the way.

“You cooked, so I’ll handle the dishes,” he said, and she nodded, leaning against the counter. “So, did you talk to M’Baku about your job?”

“Yeah, a few wardogs are teaching different language classes across the provinces now, and the ones here need some afterschool help. So...you’re looking at Jabariland’s newest English tutor!” she announced as she struck a pose. 

“Alright, I see you, Mira. Getting your educator on,” he joked as he scrubbed the dishes, making her smile as she went to wipe down the table. He turned around to say something, but he was met with the sight of her bending over to reach across the kitchen table. He had missed seeing her from that angle and loudly cleared his throat. He turned around quicker than she did and knew he had to come up with a quick answer in three, two, one…

“What’s up? You only do that when there’s something big on your mind.” 

“Do what?”

“Clear your throat like that.”

“I do not,” he said incredulously.

“Nigga, I’ve known you for almost a decade. I know when something’s on your mind, so talk.”

The way she spoke to him warmed his heart. He had missed her attitude, and it reminded him of their past. He fought a smile from creeping up his cheeks as he spoke, “T told you about the Golden Jaguar, right?”

“Yeah, he said you’re like another Black Panther.”

“I’m supposed to be, but nothing seems to be working.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I was king for a day, my vision was sharper, and my hearing and sense of smell were stronger...I felt like I could run a mile a minute, but right now, I can’t even walk up ten flights of stairs-”

“That’s a lot of stairs, Erik.”

“Not for me,” he sighed. 

“Maybe you need another dosage?”

“Nah, they got to me before my heart stopped, so it should still be in there.”

Mira leaned up against the back of the couch and crossed her arms over her chest as she watched his shoulders move while he scrubbed the bottom of the stew pot. It was difficult for her to imagine Erik with superhuman powers, but the idea intrigued her.

“You and T’Challa both describe it as a spiritual experience, so maybe it’s a spiritual blockage or something?”

Erik finished rinsing the pot out and placed it on the rack to drip dry before turning around and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I tried praying to Bast, but nothing happens. I don't hear her the way I did when I first took the herb.”

“You could hear her?”

He nodded, “Clear as day.”

They stood there in silence until Erik let out a sigh, “Well, I, uh, need to go soak these old bones in some Epsom salt-”

“You’re not even thirty,” Mira laughed, making him crack a tiny smile that barely reached his dimples as he lumbered down the hall to his bedroom.

--------

Over the next month, Erik and Mira settled into a nice groove. Mira handled breakfast and getting Imani to school in the mornings. She spent the rest of the day running errands, brushing up on her language skills, or pouring over her curriculum. She went to work around the time Imani got out of school, so Erik picked her up on his way home from work. Erik got placed on communications at the station, so he wasn’t as worn out by the end of the day, which left him time to get dinner ready before Mira got home from her tutoring job. The three of them would clean the kitchen after dinner, dancing around and making it fun to keep Imani engaged. Then they’d spend some time together as a family, either playing with Imani’s toys or with her curled up on the couch between them as they watched whatever movie they had agreed on for the night.

Erik liked the routine, but things had to change a little when they moved to live with the Mining tribe. Erik switched to taking Imani to school in the mornings since he was too worn out by the end of the day to pick her up. The shifts in the mines were short to prevent burnout, but even after just a couple of hours of mining Erik’s body wanted to crash.  Mira, however, was loving the changes. She spent her days in Shuri’s lab learning Wakandan coding languages. They weren't too different from what she used to do for work, but she was a little rusty. She had started to miss her days as a software engineer, even though she wouldn’t trade her current life for the world. 

That is until one day, while she was cooking dinner, Imani moseyed into the kitchen when it was almost done and started asking her questions that she wished she could avoid. 

“Mommy, why don’t you and daddy have the same room? A’Kidi said when his parents were together, they only had one room, and that’s how it is on tv, too.”

Mira stilled, and her eyes widened. She took a second to fix her face before turning to look at her inquisitive child.

“Well, baby, some people just do things a little differently.”

“But Kofi and Sanaa said that when their parents slept in two rooms, they got dehorsed,” Imani said with the saddest look on her face.

“Divorced, sweetie,” Mira corrected her as she heard the door unlock, thankful for the distraction. “Yay, daddy’s home.”

“Daddy!” Imani ran to him and jumped in his arms, completely unaware of how sore they were. He’d never say anything because he cared more about having his baby girl close than the pain that was rippling through his upper body. 

“Hey, Cupcake!” He peppered kisses all over her face like he did every day, but this time her giggles seemed a little uninspired. He pulled back to look at her questioningly as he carried her into the kitchen and set her on her favorite stool. “What’s up with you today?”

Mira shot him a look, but it was too late. He had opened the floodgates.

“Are you and mommy getting dehorsed?”

“Divorced,” Mira said with a deep sigh. 

“Divorced?!” Erik panicked.

“I’m just correcting her,” she reassured him as she turned off the stove. “And the answer is no, sweetie.”

“Where’s this coming from?” His voice had gone up an octave and refused to come down.

“Kofi and Sanaa’s parents just got divorced, and it has her a little spooked.”

“They said their mama and baba slept in two rooms like you, but everyone else with two parents said theirs have one room.”

The tension that had started growing in Erik’s jaw and shoulders when he heard the word divorce slowly slipped away, and he released a deep breath he hadn’t even realized he had been holding. Mira’s eyes traveled over his form, watching his body language change as the conversation progressed, and her stomach lightly turned at the thought of ever divorcing him.

“Baby girl, you don’t have to worry about that, ok?” Mira said, trying her best to ignore the way Erik’s soft eyes zeroed in on her. She gave in, and they locked eyes across the kitchen island. She couldn’t hold his gaze for long, but it was enough to make his heart skip a beat. 

“Yeah, you’re stuck with us. Both of us,” Erik tickled her, but her giggles still weren’t as full as they could be. “Aight, what is it?”

“You and mommy always say you love me, but you don’t say it to each other.”

Their gazes met again, each one recognizing the emotion in the other’s deep brown eyes. 

“Listen to me, Cupcake,” Erik turned her stool so that she was fully facing him. “I love you and your mommy more than anything else in this world.”

Mira quickly turned back around to hide the tears she was so desperately fighting and busied herself with stirring the spaghetti sauce.

“Mommy?”

“Yeah, baby?” Mira’s voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. Erik smirked at her attempt to hide her emotions.

“Do you love daddy?”

Mira froze and closed her eyes. 

“Of course I do,” she breathed out before changing the subject, “Now go wash your hands for dinner.”

Imani hopped down off the stool at her mother’s request and made her way to the bathroom to wash her hands. 

“Stop staring at me,” Mira grumbled with her back still turned.

“I wasn’t even looking at you,” Erik lied, making her chuckle. “You still love me?”

Mira turned off the stovetop and turned around.

“Yeah. I do.”

“Sounds like a ‘but’ coming…”

“I do still love you, but-”

“There it is.”

“Erik!”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“I love you, but that doesn’t change anything.”

“You don’t want to divorce me?”

“No, but-”

“Then that’s all that matters. We’ll figure the rest out,” he winked as he got up to change out of his work clothes.

--------

A key part of Erik’s recovery involved him making good memories for himself. Every moment with his family formed a new good memory, and everyone could see the bliss on his face when they all came together. He smiled more, and not just with Imani and Mira, but with the Udakus as well. He and T’Challa had grown close over the last couple of months, and Shuri had started to come around, too. During their time in Jabariland, Erik and M’Baku became friends and regularly hung out on playdates with their kids. M’Baku’s two daughters, A’Sami and Ade, were a year older and younger than Imani, respectively. The girls got along great, and Erik made his first genuine friend he had in years. Mira was so proud of him.

He was building a support system, and he wanted to keep up the good momentum. So early one beautiful Saturday morning, Erik woke up with an idea, and a few hours later, found himself sweating over a grill while his family and friends congregated in his backyard. He was all smiles every time Mira looked up at him from her conversation with Okoye and Ayo. The three of them sat on blankets in the grass, watching the kids play tag in the large grassy area, and the happy couple noticed Mira’s fleeting glances towards her husband.

“How are things with Erik?” Ayo inquired.

“They’re ok. Nothing has changed, really. Except-” Mira cut herself off with a sigh.

“Except?” Okoye prodded.

She looked around and lowered her voice, “The other day, Imani was asking questions about our relationship, and we both said we love each other.”

“That is it?”

“That and I know I don’t want to divorce him,” Mira shrugged.

Ayo and Okoye smirked at each other, making Mira roll her eyes and take a sip of her cocktail.

Meanwhile, over by the grill, M’Baku and Erik were discussing last night’s televised dambe fight when Erik looked up and almost dropped the tongs in the hot coals. M’Baku turned around and saw the Udaku clan, fashionably late, as usual, joined by a gorgeous woman he had never seen before.

“Holy shit.”

“Umtshana!”

“Sorry Auntie, but...how do you know her?”

T’Challa chuckled and pulled her close to him by her waist.

“We go way back,” he smiled down at her. “Ororo, meet my cousin, Erik.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Erik. You have a lovely home.”

“Thanks, it’s a rental,” he said in awe before calling out to Mira. When she turned around, her drink fell out of her hand, and she could barely move. Was this how Imani felt when she saw T’Challa in his suit? Because she was absolutely starstruck. There was Storm, her all-time favorite superhero and literal goddess, in her backyard of all places. Okoye and Ayo jumped up on alert but calmed back down when they saw what the fuss was about.

“I am glad she is back,” Okoye smiled.

“He looks so happy.”

“Wait, she’s been here before?”

“Yes, Ororo is his ex. Go say hi; she is a lovely woman,” Ayo shooed her off. 

Mira made her way up the slight incline of their backyard, and the closer she got to Ororo, the more her legs felt like jelly.

“H-hi,” she barely breathed out, making Shuri cackle as she and Ramonda passed them to go mingle. 

“Hi,” Ororo chuckled. “You must be Mira. I was just telling Erik here how much I love your home.”

“Thanks, it’s a rental.” The other three laughed, confusing Mira. “So, um, can I get you anything?”

“I’ll take whatever you just dropped. Actually, let’s make it two. You need a refill,” Ororo said as she linked her arm in Mira’s and walked her towards the drinks table. 

“That went well,” T’Challa commented as he popped open a beer. 

“Oh, she loooooves Storm. You just made her day. Her entire life,” Erik chuckled as he flipped the chicken quarters over. “So, how’d that happen?”

“I am sorry, is she supposed to be a big deal?” M’Baku cut in, making the other two stare at him with their mouths open.

“Bruh, that’s Storm...of the X-Men...controls the weather...nothing’s ringing a bell?”

“No. Is she one of the Gifted?”

“Oh, she’s like the most gifted. This nigga bagged a goddess.”

M’Baku raised his cup to cheers T’Challa for his choice of a partner when the sound of his daughters arguing caught his attention.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” he excused himself to go break up the fight before it got out of hand. His little warriors could get vicious with each other when they wanted to. Erik shook his head and smiled at the thought of Imani having a younger sibling. The thought didn’t last long before another, much more important one entered his mind.

“Hey, so, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“What is it, umzala?”

He lowered his voice, knowing his cousin could still hear him over the music.

“I’ve been having this...problem-”

“Ah. It’s ok. It happens to the best of us. Or so I’ve heard,” T’Challa winked. 

“No, I wish that was the problem, but you gotta get some for that to happen, so…”

“Understood. So what is it?” 

“The heart-shaped herb...are you sure it’s still in my system?”

“Shuri did bloodwork on you to check after she stabilized you. It’s still in there. Why?”

“I don’t feel it anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I first took it, my senses were sharper, and I was stronger and faster...and I could hear Bast. Now all I get is dreams of the garden burning.”

“Do you have those often?”

“Almost every night now.”

“It seems like she is trying to tell you something.”

“I wish she’d just tell me instead of doing all this,” Erik grumbled.

T’Challa laughed and put his hand on his cousin’s shoulder, “That is not how goddesses work.”

“So, what should I do?”

“Try talking to her in your dreams. She is sending them for a reason.”

Erik nodded and started pulling the first batch of food off the grill.

That night, as he climbed into bed and reflected on his day, he was all smiles until he remembered what he had to do. He closed his eyes tentatively as he waited for sleep to take him.

When Erik opened his eyes, he was in the garden of the heart-shaped herb. The beautiful purple flowers glowed in the cavernous temple, but when he took a step forward, his bare feet charred the ground beneath him. He stepped back in shock, but everywhere his feet landed, he scorched the earth. He tried to stomp out the fire, but the flames grew with every movement, and pretty soon, he was surrounded by them. He watched with horror as the heart-shaped herbs were burned to a crisp, but instead of waking up at that moment the way he usually did, he walked towards the statue of Bast at the center of the temple and knelt at her feet as the flames surrounded him. He closed his eyes and prayed to her as the fire inched closer, and when it reached him, he was surprised to find himself unscathed.

“Did you really think you would die in a fire in a dream?” a strong, soothing voice bounced off the walls as the flames subsided, leaving the scorched land in its wake.

Erik’s gaze traveled up the panther statue and landed on Bast’s surprisingly soft eyes.

“Is this real?” 

Bast rolled her eyes and stepped down from the platform she had been standing on and walked closer to Erik so that he could feel her breath on his skin.

“What do you think?”

Erik fell to his knees and stared up at her, in awe of the actual deity before him.

“My goddess, I-”

“Save it,” she grumbled, making Erik’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I allowed you to become the Golden Jaguar, and you spat in my face in return. Your child is the only reason I allow you to still walk the earthly plane.”

Erik hung his head in shame, and she growled down at him, “Look at me when I am speaking to you.”

His eyes darted back upwards, and she could see the tears he was willing not to fall.

“Now, I understand why you did what you did, but that does not make up for the fact that you forced my priestesses to burn their life’s work. I gave your people the heart-shaped herb once, and now I have to do it again...because of you. And now you come to me crying about your lack of powers? Tell me, why do you deserve them?” She sat down, and her tail twitched left and right as she awaited his answer. Just as she was beginning to grow impatient, he spoke up.

“I don’t,” his voice cracked. 

“That’s right, you don’t,” said, making Erik nod his head as he took in her words. They stung, but he knew they weren’t without truth. “But...I have been watching you over the last few months, and I will make you a deal.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“I know you will.”

--------

When Erik first started working at the Border tribe, he was on patrol duty. They had placed him at the Nigandan border, but he was quickly reassigned when he confided in T’Challa that it gave him flashbacks to his time in the military. Instead, he was placed on air traffic control. Erik took to it like white on rice and enjoyed messing with T’Challa on his frequent departures and arrivals.

One day, right when Erik started his lunch break, he looked up to see his wife and child heading in his direction. He lit up at seeing their beautiful faces, but his smile promptly fell flat when he noticed their expressions. 

“Well, hello, ladies,” Omari, Erik’s boss, greeted Mira and Imani as they entered the building. His eyes lingered on Mira a little too long, and Erik’s anger flared in his chest. 

“Hey baby,” Erik stood and kissed Mira on the cheek before pulling Imani into his arms. Mira was stunned by his actions, but she didn’t want to say anything in front of Erik’s coworkers.

“H-hey,” she stuttered back.

“It’s just noon. Why isn’t she in school?”

Mira jerked her head towards a less crowded area of the break room, and they relocated away from prying ears. Imani got settled on Erik’s lap and tried to avoid her mother’s gaze.

“Tell daddy what happened,” Mira said softly.

Imani nodded and looked up at Erik with sad puppy dog eyes and a quivering lip.

“I got in a fight at school.”

“A fight?” Erik said a little too loudly, making Omari and his other coworkers look up at the family. He lowered his voice and continued, “What happened Cupcake?”

“Danika said that her mommy said that you’re evil and she’s going to a new school to get away from me because you killed her auntie. Then she pushed me, and I pushed her back, then Mr. Omi came over and stopped it.”

Erik and Mira were both too shocked by the first part of her statement to focus on some rugrat putting her hands on their baby girl. They had hoped to avoid having to talk about Killmonger until she was much older. They knew they wouldn’t be able to hide it from her, especially if they stayed in Wakanda. They were shaken from their stupors by Imani asking the worst question possible.

“Why does she think you’re evil, daddy?” The innocent look on Imani’s face broke her parents, and Mira cleared her throat to change the subject but couldn’t get the words to come out.

Erik wasn’t any better. He didn’t think he’d have to lay his sins out for his daughter so soon. He knew if the kids at school were talking about him, then they had to tell her. She’d probably learn about it in school one day, anyway. Erik tried to speak, but his voice caught in his throat. He looked to Mira for help and cleared his throat, making her look up at him. 

“Um, baby girl, it’s time for daddy to get back to work-”

“Hold up, let me talk to Omari real quick.”

Mira nodded while Erik moved Imani from his lap and went to see if his boss would let him off early for the day. Imani wandered over to her mom, and Mira could see the furrow in her brow as she thought about the conversation or lack thereof. Erik came jogging back and ushered the two of them out of the building. 

The ride home was eerily silent. Mira kept trying to catch Erik’s eye, but he seemed to be in a daze. He was mentally preparing for the conversation ahead. He knew they wouldn’t be able to hide much from their inquisitive child since vague answers just made her dig deeper. He had to figure out how to sanitize the story to make it appropriate for children. And not just any children, his child. The child of a man who used to be a monster. He knew he’d have to look her in the eye and tell her what he did one day, but so soon? He wasn’t ready; neither of them was.

Not a word was spoken until they entered the house.

“Imani, go play in your room for a little while. We’ll be in there in a little bit.”

“Ok, mommy,” she said softly, already making her way down the hall. 

Her parents watched her every step, and the second she cracked the door behind her, their eyes met in a panic.

“What do we say to her? She’s four!” 

“You don’t have to say anything...I do,” Erik sighed. 

Mira nodded in understanding. This was something he needed to do on his own.

“I need to be there, though. For both of you,” Mira said, grabbing his hand in hers. Erik pulled her hand to his lips for a kiss and looked down into her big brown eyes. She could see the fear and sadness in his, so she kissed his cheek in return. “You can do this. I know you can.”

“What do I even say?”

“I don’t know,” Mira shrugged her shoulders and saw Imani peek out of her room, “but you’re gonna have to improv. She’s getting impatient.”

Erik turned around and saw Imani’s head duck back into her room with a quickness. He took in a deep breath that reached all the way down into his abdomen, just like Naomi had taught him, and released it through his mouth. He nodded to Mira, and they made their way down the hallway to Imani’s room. That walk had never felt so tedious.

“Hey, Cupcake.”

“What’s wrong?”

Erik sat on Imani’s bed and pulled her into his lap while Mira sat crosslegged on the floor in front of them. 

“I need to tell you a story.”

“Ok…” she said, already nervously playing with her dad’s bracelet as he spoke.

“It’s a sad one, ok?”

“Ok.”

“Once, there was this little boy named N’Jadaka. He and his mommy and daddy lived in this far off place called Oakland-”

“Oakland. Where’s that?”

“It’s in California, sweetie. Let daddy finish.”

Imani nodded and went back to playing with his beads.

“And they were happy as they could be. Until one day, bad people came and took his mommy away. Then another bad person took his daddy away. He had a hard life growing up, but one day he met an angel, and that angel gifted him with a tiny angel...but the whole time, he kept plotting about getting revenge. He did a lot of bad things and hurt a lot of people out of anger, but all he wanted was to get to the man who killed his baba. The mean man died one day, so N’Jadaka hurt his son instead. His son fought N’Jadaka and won, but he understood why he was angry and took him in. So now, N’Jadaka and his angels have a new family.”

“Ok...what does that have to do with you?”

Erik looked down at Mira and turned Imani around in his lap so she could face him.

“I’m N’Jadaka…”

Imani’s eyebrows scrunched together as she looked away and tried to understand what he had just told her. “So you hurt people because someone hurt you?”

“Yes.”

“But Danika said you killed her auntie…”

Erik shifted uncomfortably.

“Sometimes people do really bad things, but that doesn’t make them bad people,” Mira chimed in from the floor.

“Cupcake,” he said, softly turning her face towards him. “I need you to know I’ve changed. T’Challa believed in me, and-”

“What does Lala have to do with it?”

“He helped me get better.”

“So...you tried to hurt him?” They could see the wheels turning in her head, and she started squirming.

“Yes.”

“Like you hurt Danika’s auntie?” she looked up at her daddy with tears in her eyes as she slid off his lap and into Mira’s. 

“Cupcake-” Erik reached for her, and she shrunk away, breaking his heart into a million pieces.  Next Chapter

Taglist:  @ladymac82 , @kitesatforestp, @harleycativy​, @raysunshine78​, @maddeningmayhem​, @theblulife​, @motheroffae​, @love-mesome-me​, @toni9​, 

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fic #black!oc #erik killmonger x oc #njadaka #Erik Stevens #killmonger #all for us

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

One Night🌙5

Warnings: noncon sexual acts (to be warned later in series)

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: One night changes your entire life.

for @kittykatlow​‘s 200 Follower Celebration

Note: Sorry there’s no Eye of the Storm for today. I’m currently going through physical and emotional hell but I hope you don’t mind some Andy Barber.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You went to bed angry. You were always warned against it and you always learned your lessons the hard way. Hence, your current predicament and that stabbing just above your eye brow.

You got up slowly. You groaned and grumbled as you forced yourself to your feet. It was early and you had a shift at the diner. You never thought you'd be eager to be in your greasy apron but it was better than the alternative.

The night before, you'd spent a few minutes looking around the bedroom. There was an attached bathroom and you were thankful for that as you'd awoke once to relieve yourself before stumbling back to bed. 

You pushed through the half-open door and pulled your night shirt over your head. You stretched and reached to start the shower. There was a hand towel hanging from the ring above the sink but nothing else. You went to the closet but upon opening the door, you were surprised to find another bedroom on the other side. 

You swore and slammed the door before Andy could look up from his tie. You searched the handle for a lock and clicked it into place. God damn it! What kind of house was set up like that?

You heard his bedroom door in the hall and he knocked on your own. You scrambled to pick up your night gown and pull it back on as the hinges whispered and he appeared at the bathroom door. He looked confused as he crossed his arms.

"What was all that about?" He asked.

"I needed a towel," You huffed. "And I thought it was... a closet."

"Ah, linen closet's right next to my room." He explained. "I never really liked the layout but Laurie... I'll get you a towel."

You nodded and he left you. He returned with a dark blue towel and offered it to you. You took it and he reluctantly let it go. His gaze never left you; sombre and serious.

"Did you decide?" He asked.

"I'll tell Saul today," You said. "Is that acceptable?"

He sighed and sniffed.

"Call me." He said. "Doesn't matter when, I'll pick up. You let me know when your next appointment is."

"Okay," You resigned. "So, can I shower or...?"

"I gotta head out," He tucked his hand in his pants pocket. "I'll leave your breakfast on the counter."

"I can take care of myself." You insisted.

"Yeah, you keep saying that," He gave a sarcastic smirk. "What time are you done?"

"Seven," You answered dully. "I'll be home before curfew, dad."

He rolled his eyes and backed away.

"Well, won't be long till I am," He countered. "Isn't that right, mommy?"

He left you, the door closing with a snap. You listened as he went back to his own room and left shortly after, his footsteps fading down the stairs.

You set the towel down on the toilet lid and felt the warmth of the shower’s spray with your fingertips. You'd thought living with your mom was hard. Now you almost missed it.

🌙

You felt like you had a secret victory. While you'd given up the job that had seen you through the last decade, your job at the cafe was starting to look more promising. Many of your co-workers were college students and handed off shifts quite often. 

By the time you left the diner, dispirited as you were after the last few days' events, you had picked up two half-shifts for the next week. Another and you'd have more than thirty hours away from Andy and his suburban prison.

It was short-won as you found a bitterly familiar car waiting by the curb as you walked out of work. Andy sat in the front seat, his hand leaned against the steering wheel as he squinted at the glowing screen of his phone. You were tempted to ignore him and catch the bus instead but you didn't want another night of arguing. You just wanted to be home. You could hide in the guest room and try to forget. Well, as much as you could.

You knocked on the window and he looked over. He gave you his usual disapproving look and unlocked the doors with the flip of a switch. He tucked his phone away and turned the engine as you climbed in.

"I messaged." He said as he peered out into traffic. "Why didn't you answer?"

"I haven't checked my phone," You frowned. "Sorry."

"I told you to call me." He pulled out and his knuckles whitened as his grip tightened on the wheel. "You make your appointment?"

"Monday," You muttered. Only three days away. "Ten thirty."

"I can make it work," He said. "You wanna grab some dinner? It's a bit late to cook."

"You gonna spoon feed again?" You challenged.

"Only if you make me," He said. "I want a copy of your schedule. Every week. I need to know when you're working and not."

"You're not serious?" You scoffed.

"I think I have a right to know. And look, we're having a kid and we should learn to get along before it gets here." He glanced at you in the rearview. "It wasn't so hard that night in the bar."

"Andy, forget that night," You breathed. 

"I can't." His voice was low, dusky. "Even if... if I hadn't run into you again, I'd still be thinking about it."

"Don't do this," You begged.

"I love-- Loved my wife," He continued. "But it was never like that. Never that--"

"Stop," You interrupted. "Andy, I get it, well, I can't really understand what you're going through but you're grieving your family. It's confusing, scary, but you can't expect me to fill that hole. It was a one night stand. As far as I know those are suppose to end the morning after, at latest."

He was silent as he pulled into the drive through of a local burger joint. You'd been to the place once, they had great potato wedges but charged a bit much for limited portions. He stopped at the speaker and turned to you.

"What do you want?" He asked.

"Chicken burger, extra mayo, side of wedges," You craned to read the menu around him. "And an iced tea?"

"That's a lot of sugar. You should have a water for now and I have some stuff at home."

"Why did you even-- fine," You relented. "Water is fine."

Andy ordered and idled between the windows as he waited for the food. When it was his turn at last, he drew up and paid. He took the paper bag and the tray of drinks and handed it to you. He tipped, well, and thanked the server before pulling away.

"You don't understand. You're right." He said stiffly. "You can't but you can at least try. A baby... do you know what that means to me? Especially now, after everything. I never really put much faith in God but it feels like... a sign."

You lowered your head and shifted the paper bag on your leg as its warmth seeped through your pants. You felt bad. You were so concerned with what you were going to do, you hadn't really thought about him or his feelings. Sure, he was bossy, angry, but could you blame him? After a tragedy so uncontrollable how could you not be desperate for an ounce of control?

"Thank you," You said quietly. "For buying me dinner. For... letting me stay with you."

"You don't have to thank me for that. Decent people do those things." He stared at the road grimly. "I'm... sorry I've been so angry."

"It's alright. I haven't really been easy to deal with." You chuckled darkly. "I'd blame the hormones but I think it's just me."

"No, it's not," He turned down his street. "I'll be home late tomorrow night. There's lots of food in the fridge. You working?"

"Closing." You answered. "I'll be late too."

He nodded as he pulled into his driveway.

"Alright," He killed the engine. "I still want that schedule. It'll make things a lot easier."

You wanted to slap yourself. He came around as you managed to open your door and took the bag from you as he left you the tray of drinks. You followed him to the door, shaking your head at your own idiocy. He might be decent but it didn't make him any less overbearing.

🌙

Your days continued on a tightrope. You did your best to balance between Andy's irritability and your own misery. He might have apologized but there was something about the man that just kept you on edge.

And it was difficult to adjust to living with a man that was barely more than a strangers. To live in the shell of his former life. Even when you were alone, you stayed in the guest room, kept to yourself. It felt wrong to be there.

When Monday came, you woke to ready for your appointment. You dressed and went downstairs to find Andy awake and put together as always. The smell of his coffee made your mouth water.

"Any left in the pot?" You asked.

He shook his head as he blew the steam away from the rim.

"You can't have coffee. Too much caffeine." He said. "I'll buy you some decaf if you want. There's a gourmet place in the market."

"Don't worry about it," You grumbled. "I'll just have some orange juice."

"And some fruit, toast, yogurt..." He began as he set his mug down. "You should start writing down your meals. Keep track. You don't want to undereat." He opened the fridge and pulled out a basket of blueberries and a tub of yogurt. "We should also look into some supplements for you. Iron, probably." 

He grabbed a bowl and measured out the yogurt and then rinsed some berries to go on top. He slid the bowl across the island and put everything back in the fridge. He grabbed the loaf from the breadbox and shoved two slices in the toaster.

"They should be able to let us know what after today," He continued. "I was reading up. They're gonna take some blood, probably some urine, and you might even have an ultrasound."

"Reading?" You narrowed your eyes. "Did you do all this with... before?"

He pressed his lips together and cracked his neck.

"I was younger then. Naive," He said. "Nine months is a long time. A lot can go wrong."

You were quiet. You scooped yogurt into your mouth and tried not to scowl. You didn't need to walk into the doctor's in a mood. The whole thing was stressful enough.

He finished making your toast and offered you peanut butter. You took butter and accepted the dry dark rye. He tapped his fingers on the counter and reached for a book on the end. He slid it over and flipped it open just as you read the title; 'What to Expect When You're Expecting'. You wanted to laugh. You chewed instead.

"That's your research?" You asked.

"You should read it," He said without looking up, crossing his arms atop the counter as he bent over it. "You'd learn a lot."

"Oh yeah?" You swallowed. "I'll see if I can fit it on my reading list."

"Huh," He looked up at last. "I saw that you had quite a few hours next week. Thirty-three."

"You said I couldn't work two jobs," You shrugged. "So I have one."

"I thought we were getting somewhere," He stood straight. "I really did."

"What else am I supposed to do? I can't just sit around and wait for the baby."

"You can," He snapped and rubbed his beard, feeling the bristle of his beard. "Jesus, I just-- I'm trying to do what's right."

"For you? Me? The baby?" You wondered.

"For us," He said pointedly. 

"Us?" You echoed and set down the last crust. "What do you think is going to happen when the baby is here?"

His brows crinkled and took a breath.

"Well, I hope to have the nursery set up by then. Some clothes ready. No surprises, we'll need to know the sex so that we're ready." He slowly smiled as he spoke. "And maybe a pump for you, just in case. And I can take some days off to help out. It can be exhausting--"

"Andy!" You spat. "Andy, do you think-- do you think I'm going to stay here... forever?"

"You gonna pop this thing out and just go?" He asked. 

"I never said I'd stay. Why would I--?"

"Because we're gonna be parents. Together." He hissed. "Because I won't have my child bouncing back and forth like volleyball."

"I'm not doing that." You said. "No, I'm not--" You stood and rounded the counter. "I'll find my own way to the appointment. There's no reason you need to be there."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa" He stepped in front of you and blocked you. "I wasn't asking."

"You can't make me--"

"I can do whatever I want," His voice grew deeper as he backed you against the island. "I can tell the police you abandoned your child. I can sue you for support. I can have you arrested for neglect."

"Prove it," You snarled.

"Won't be hard. I got buddies in the PD. I don't even have to plant the evidence," He smirked. "I just gotta give them the go ahead."

"No," You tried to push past him and he grabbed your sides, pushing you back against the counter.

"Let me tell you something, sweetheart," He leaned in to whispered in your ear. "You're gonna do a lot of things you think you don't wanna do." 

His hand slipped to your hip and you caught his wrist, grasping his chunky watched. He stood straight and looked down at you nonchalantly. 

"You're right," He wrenched his arm away and looked at his watch. "We're gonna be late."

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #dark andy barber x reader #dark!andy barber x reader #fic #series #one night #dark fic #dark!fic #defending jacob

[binunus]

my tylenol when i’m in pain | moon bin

a/n when I got this request, the title of it literally came to me instantly so if you want some cute mood music while reading, listen to lemonade by jeremy passion sksksksk, 

thank you to the cutie who requested this !! I hope your migraines feel better love ❤️ you’re cranking up binnie on my bias list 👀

{request: i get really bad chronic migraines sometimes and I was wondering if you could write something where bin takes care of his s/o when they're not feeling well. if you're okay with that :)}

genre: the fluffiest

word count: 2.2k ________________________________________________

Your POV

It was absolutely beautiful outside. The previous night’s snowfall left a pristine blanket of white on the street. You looked outside your window to see several kids making snowmen or engaging in snowball fights.

Ahh the innocent ideal of the youth.

You wished you could go outside and join in on the winter festivities without any care in the world, but alas being a working adult crushed those wishes any day. And it didn’t help that you felt like complete shit right now. 

For the past week and a half, you were working nonstop on a project that had a heavy deadline submission which ended yesterday. You barely completed it on time, sacrificing your well-loved sleep and meals to have a presentable end product. 

If you were back in high school or college, your stamina could have easily bounced back from the lack of sleep and nutrition, but your body couldn’t handle the neglect right now—and the cold weather only catalyzed your impending sickness.

Trudging back to bed, you winced as you tried to make yourself comfortable under the covers, muscles aching with every movement. You were at least thankful that your boss granted everyone an off-day today because of the snow, giving you one less thing to worry about in your list of priorities.

Faintly, you heard the jingle of keys from your front door, a tinge of excitement filling you at your guest.

“Baby?”

“In my room.”

“Shit, you sound so weak.” Your boyfriend frowned as he entered your bedroom, removing his hat and coat and placing it on the table by your desk. He walked over to where you were laying, leaning down for a kiss when you ducked under the covers, “Binnie, I don’t wanna get you sick.”

He let out a chuckle, removing the blanket from covering your face and stealing a kiss anyway. You scrunched your nose up, “If you get sick, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I’ll take my chances, baby.” Bin said with a smile, taking a seat at the side of your bed. He softly caressed your hair, “Hmm, how are you feeling?”

“A bit better now that you’re here,” You said trying to sound positive, “but if you’re asking me physically? Terrible.”

“Have you eaten?? What about a shower? Taking one helps a lot, and it makes you feel clean.” Bin nagged, thumb rubbing your cheek. You pouted, lightly shaking your head, “I’m not hungry, and it hurts too much when I move. Maybe later Binnie, my head really hurts right now and I just wanna close my eyes.”

He nodded, immediately standing up to go over to the other side of the bed. Bin crawled into bed next to you, arm hooking under your shoulder as you turned to hug his waist, snuggling as close to him as you could get. He kissed your forehead sweetly, humming a little song as you started to get comfortable, his chest as your pillow. Rubbing your arm gently as he sang, it took you only a couple minutes before your breathing evened out, the pounding of your head dulling as sleep overtook you.

Bin nuzzled his nose in your hair, your scent giving him a fluttery feeling in the base of his stomach. A little nap with you was too good to pass at the moment. Just fifteen minutes, Bin thought as he closed his eyes, feeling his body relax against yours.

After a little while, Bin found himself stirring awake, much to his dismay because he loved his sleep. Blinking the drowsiness away, he glanced at you to see that you were still deeply in slumber, soft snores coming out of your mouth. He smiled unable to stop himself from pressing a kiss to your cheek. He almost felt bad untangling himself from your hold at the risk of waking you up.

Carefully, he got up and out of bed, making sure that you were still tucked in before heading to the kitchen, closing the door quietly as he left. Bin let out a huge yawn as he washed his hands in the kitchen sink, getting ready to prep some ingredients for the soup he was about to make. 

Bin played some music on his phone as he cooked, loud enough to give him entertainment, but at a volume so that it wouldn’t disturb you. He was pretty proud of himself after finishing the chicken soup, plating the bowl nicely on one of your bedside trays with some medicine and a glass of water. Bin even cleaned up the pots he used for cooking, knowing that it was better for him to wash it now while he still had the motivation. And there was no way that he would let you lift a finger while he was here taking care of you.

After washing his hands again, Bin went back into your bedroom, tray in hand. He set it down briefly on your table to wake you up, tapping your shoulder. “y/n? Wake up baby.” 

You groaned, eyes still closed as you turned in your bed, back facing your boyfriend. “5 more minutes.”

“Baby, the soup’s gonna get cold. C’mon, you have to eat even a little bit.” He reasoned, pulling the blanket so that your upper half was exposed. You nodded drowsily, struggling as you tried to sit up. Bin smiled, propping some pillows up for you to sit against. “I made chicken soup, after you eat take some medicine okay?”

“Okay,” You nodded slowly with your eyes closed, moving your hair to the back as Bin brought the tray over. Your headache wasn’t as strong as before, but your body still felt like it was throbbing a little, hopefully eating and the medicine would help cure you a bit. 

“Do you want me to feed you?” Bin teased, half jokingly but also you knew he would if you really asked him to. Again, you nodded opening your mouth obediently. Grinning, he took a spoonful of broth, making sure to blow on it so that it wouldn’t be too hot before feeding you. “You’re so cute, y/n. You really are my baby, hm?”

“Mm I’m sick,” You said finally opening your eyes, sleep still heavy on your lids. You weren’t really disagreeing with him though. “That’s really good Binnie, I can feel my sinuses clearing up a little.”

“I made it with love,” He said cutely, leaning over to kiss you quickly on the lips. You let out an amused chuckle, letting his greasy comment slide as you opened your mouth for more. 

The two of you conversed easily as he fed you, catching you up on the latest drama at his work and with his friends. Although Bin made the soup for you, you made sure that he filled his hunger a little bit too, making him finish the rest of the bowl when you felt full. He praised you like a child when you took your medicine and finished the glass of water, it was a bit endearing if you were honest. “Do you need anything right now? How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay baby, thank you.” You said getting comfortable again under the covers. “Cuddle??”

“I’ll just put this away and then I’m all yours.” Bin nodded with a smile, going to the kitchen once more. After a couple minutes, he returned with a towel and a bowl of water.

“I thought we were gonna cuddle?” You pouted looking at him. Laughing, he dipped the towel in the bowl and wrung out the water, bringing it to you and placing it on your forehead. “We are baby, let me just try and bring your fever down a bit, your skin’s burning.”

You nodded, your body basically dead weight as he helped you sit up again, cooling your skin with the damp towel. You hummed in satisfaction, the cold cloth a nice comparison to your hot skin. “We might as well have just taken a bath.”

“Do you want to?” He asked rubbing the towel around your back. “Bath and then cuddle after?”

“Mhm,” You said removing the blanket and getting up, Bin holding your waist as you two walked to the bathroom. He told you to wait a minute as he turned on the water, checking the temperature as it filled up the bathtub. After deeming that the water was at a good amount, Bin started to strip himself of his clothing, stepping into the tub soon after. “Do you want my help, baby?”

“In your dreams,” You quipped removing your shirt. “Keep your hormones at bay, Binnie, my sick body won’t allow it.”

Your boyfriend chuckled, grabbing his phone from the counter and playing some music. “You know sex can help with removing sickness, y/n?”

“Uh huh, ask me that question again tomorrow and we’ll see how I respond.” You said getting in the tub and nestling between his legs. You shivered a little as your skin made contact with the water, leaning back against Bin’s chest for warmth. He grinned, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You relaxed in the cage of Bin’s arms, resting your head against his chest as he began to sing along to the song that was playing on his phone, rubbing the belly softly under the water. The two of you sat like that for a while, you cooling down in silence, content with listening to Bin’s voice. 

“Sit up for a second baby, let me wash your hair.” He said, lifting his arms from your body and reaching for your shampoo. He squeezed a generous amount onto his hand, first massaging it into your hair before using the leftover for his own. It was a bit of a struggle to wash away all the suds, the size of your bathtub barely enough to fit both you and Bin comfortably, but you somehow made it work. After deciding that dunking you both under water to rinse off the shampoo clearly wasn’t the right idea, Bin grabbed the shower head and opted for that instead, giggles coming from the both of you.

“Ah Binnie!” You whined as he started to tickle your sides, your boyfriend laughing as he drenched your head with water. “I’m cleansing you of your sickness, baby!”

That cycle repeated again, this time with conditioner, and by the time the two of you were done with your bath-turned-shower, the floor surrounding the tub was wet from all the splashes and Bin’s use of the detachable shower head. 

You shivered, arms hugging your body as Bin grabbed two towels, drying himself off first before doing the same to you. “I could have dried myself, baby.”

“I’m here taking care of you, and that includes drying you.” He shook his head. You chuckled, unsure of his logic but let him do as he pleased anyway. Bin smiled, eyes formed into crescent moons as he dried your hair, gently shaking the towel all over your head. Laughing, you went on your tiptoes, arms locking around his neck as you kissed him. He made a sound of contentment, moving his lips in tune with yours as his hands dropped down to your waist, leaving the towel on the top of your head. 

After a minute or so, you pulled away, a giggle leaving you as you saw Bin’s pout. You pecked his lips again briefly, before grabbing the towel and drying your hair again. Bin made sure to thoroughly dry the floor before the two of you went back to your bedroom. He changed into some shorts that he left at your place, deciding to forego a shirt since he usually chose not to sleep with one anyway. You, on the other hand, slipped on Bin’s shirt and a pair of pajama shorts, climbing immediately in bed after your hair was decently dry. 

He came to join you after getting another glass of water, encouraging you to drink it all before he cuddled you, knowing that the two of you were going to end up napping again. You finished the glass with ease, placing it on your bedside table, and turning to your boyfriend. He smiled, wrapping his arms around you again as the two of you laid down, finding yourselves in the same position as when he first came over earlier. “How are you feeling now, baby?”

“Honestly? Better.” You said, lips brushing against his clavicle. The medicine kicked in by now, but you were sure that Bin also had a lot to do with your slow recovery. “You’re all the medicine I need, baby.”

He let out a high-pitched cackle, squeezing your body a little tighter as he kissed your forehead. “If I get sick, will you be my medicine?”

“Of course,” You grinned, the tips of your fingers lazily drawing figures on his abdomen. “I love you Binnie, thank you for taking care of me.”

“I’ll always take care of you, y/n.” He said softly, taking in your scent as he closed his eyes. “I love you too.”

You drifted off to sleep listening to his breathing, a deep slumber overtaking you. By the next morning, you woke up feeling loads better, your temperature now at a normal level and your headache mostly gone. You turned your head to see Bin still sleeping, a smile on your face as you craned your neck to kiss his cheek. You sighed, relaxing yourself in his hold before closing your eyes again, sleeping for a little longer wouldn’t hurt. Especially if Bin was by your side.

__________________________________________

2-2-21

#I LOVE BIN #i could have easily made an innuendo in this but my mind was like no! this is supposed to be fluff! #binnie moonbob #bin #moonbin #moon bin #moonbin scenarios #moonbin au #moonbin fluff #moon bin scenarios #moon bin fluff #moon bin au #bin au #bin scenarios #bin fluff #astro #astro moonbin #astro scenarios #astro fluff #astro au

[sp00kworm]

Silence (Part 2)

Part 1 - A Bar Brawl

Part 3 - The Star Goddess (Bloodhound’s Ending)

---

Pairing: Revenant x Gender Neutral/ Non-specified Reader

Warnings: Threats of Violence. 

---

A Totem to Remember - Revenant’s Ending

---

Loba’s debut seemed to attract more customers than you were ready to deal with. On the night of the test match, you had to refresh the beer kegs twice and you were almost out of a brand of whiskey known as the Red Devil. It was annoying, but you knew you had to refresh stock as you stacked freshly cleaned glasses back under the bar for the next day. Your bot in the back chimed happily as he opened his great washer stomach and offered you another tray of red hot, freshly cleaned glasses.

“Thanks buddy.” You cooed at the robot before taking the tray and patting his head with one hand. Spinning back around, you headed back out into the bar and hummed to yourself as you started moving towards the cabinet of tumblers. You held the tray on your hip as you plucked open the cabinet before carefully putting the glasses into their correct places, in order of size and shape. Mindlessly, your fingers moved on muscle memory as your little washer buddy moved to plug himself back in for the night, waving before he powered down and his battery began to charge. You patted him softly as you placed the tray away for him and turned to lock the kitchen for the night.

 The lights flickered. You looked at the ceiling before a gravelly voice spoke above you.

“You’re oblivious, skinbag.” Revenant purred from the ceiling.

You looked up and realised his face was close to your own, his arms extended, and his legs pinned into the metal of the ceiling. His body contorted monstrously before his head twisted and he dropped from the ceiling with a soft thump.

“What the hell are you doing on my ceiling, Revenant?” You tried to keep calm, but you were quick to fly into fury with the Simulacrum, “You don’t get to just waltz in here after…”

“You don’t get to waltz in here after what you’ve done.” He mimicked back at you with his hand snapping in your face, “Tell me something I haven’t heard before.” Revenant drawled as he looked at the whiskey behind you. He pointed a sharp finger at it, “Give me that.”

“Uh, no.” You gave an exasperated huff and snatched the liquor, “I suggest you pay for it first, plus, we’re closed.”

“I think you’re forgetting just how much money I’ve given you already, squishy.” Revenant purred, “I gave you a thousand credits last time I was here, that pays for more than seven of those whiskey bottles, I know they’re not that expensive.”

 With another hum, his metal fingers reached for a glass, snatching it before you could rescue that from him too.

“Okay. I don’t think you understand that you literally killed a man in my bar, and that your hush money doesn’t just sweep that under the rug.” You pointed a finger in his face angrily, “You pay, or you get out.”

The threat made him laugh. Revenant threw back his head and laughed a deep metallic noise, his mouth opening slightly to reveal the sparking copper inside of his mouth, “I like you. Not just anyone gets away with pointing a finger in my face.” He purred but his hand snapped up and grabbed hold of your wrist. Slowly, his cold sharp fingers crawled down your arm before they grabbed hold of your fingers and pushed, “But point it at me again and I’ll take the nail and skin off and pin your eyes open to watch.”

“This is not the way to get a free drink.” You uttered, in shock at the severity of his threat.

Revenant hummed again before his electronics whirred and he released your hand back to you, “Sure. You’re something odd, skinbag. Get me that drink, I need something to do.” It wasn’t polite nor happy, but you relented and opened the cabinet to retrieve his drink. The expensive liquor was strong, and you turned back around with it in your hand before undoing the screw cap and pouring it into an icy tumbler.

 Revenant eased himself into the bar stool, ignoring your disgruntled look as he took the tumbler and admired the dark colour of the whiskey. He swirled the liquid for a while before taking a small amount into his mouth and swallowing, his neck jarring with the pumps before he gave a small hiss.

“Nice burn.” He commented as he slumped over the bar and looked at the clock on the wall, hardly fazed by the lateness of his visit or how inconvenient he was being to you, “I see you’ve been making a killing with the games broadcasts.”

You didn’t know whether he was being genuine, “Well…I guess that money came in handy.” You shot back at him, “Blood money seems to have made my business flourish.”

“Sometimes money buys happiness.” Revenant drawled, “I got plenty of it. Just ask.”

“I don’t want your money.” You scoffed, “I’ve had plenty of that already.”

Revenant growled, “Then just what do you want from me?!” His fingers rapped along the bar top.

“If you didn’t get it, Revenant, I want you to get out and leave me alone!” You shouted.

 The Simulacrum watched you, his black and orange eyes bright before the orange went small and he snatched his drink back off the bar. He lifted it to the separation in his face where the skull like white met red and opened the hinge to dump the rest of the alcohol inside. Before you could snatch the expensive bottle away from him, he had it in his hand. Revenant said nothing to you as he held the bottle by his leg, his long arm popping upwards with a shrugging readjustment before he whipped around and headed to the door, stalking on long legs. He didn’t glance back as he stormed away, slamming the door behind him with a grunt before disappearing beyond the bright LEDs of the streetlamps and into the night. You looked at the bar and scoffed at the scratch marks down the wood, running your finger over them before you locked the door and shut off the lights to head up to your room above the bar for some well-earned rest.

 Revenant didn’t show up for the next few days. You were glad for the peace again as you ran through your normal daily routine, until it came to cleaning day for you little dishwasher friend. The robot unit chirped happily as you slapped at his dishwashing compartment and watched it open, the cogs and pistons whirring as the racks and doors stretched to their full capacity. Carefully you took a spanner and went to carefully unscrew the back of the water pipes from his back and laid them over the counter and into the sink to avoid any gross water dripping through onto the floor. The pipes smelled. You coughed as you reached for the cleaning fluid and whistled gently as you opened the back of the washing compartment to expose the hose outlets. The robot chimed a whistle as you poured the cleaner inside his belly and started scrubbing, whistling back softly as the suds started to foam up.

“You love cleaning time huh buddy?” You asked.

The robot chirped with a smiley face appearing on the screen which acted as its face.

“Hey, I know, I won’t be too long!” You promised as you took a wire wool to a particularly rough spot of dried grease. You continued to hum as you worked and poured the cleaning fluid down the water pipes to clean them.

 “Okay buddy, lets get these back attached to you.” The washing bot chirped and span for you again as you held his water pipes up and reached for your spanner to crank the bolts back into place.

“And…” You cranked the bolt one last time, settling it in place tightly, “There!” You declared, “Right, go and set yourself for a full rinse and you should feel like brand new!”

The robot chirped and tugged himself into the corner again before starting his cycle. A happy face trundled across his screen as he started the timer for his cycle and plugged himself back into to the charging point to continue the wash in sleep mode.

“See you in a bit buddy.” You patted his washing compartment and headed back into the bar, wiping your hands on a towel before you looked at the empty place and the bright sunshine outside. You weren’t open just yet. It was too early for serving and you felt tiredness seep into your eyes as you looked for the coffee machine. It was usually only used for Expresso Martinis. It needed water and you took the coffee jar and filled it before pouring it into the machine and looking through just what you fancied to drink. If anything had come out of the war, it was the new, expansive range of hot drinks. Tea from far off planets you had never heard of. You plucked free one box with a curious looking fruit on the front before taking the strainer and filling it with the leaves and letting the hot water drip through into the large pot.

 As you watched the water drip, you heard a noise above you. The clink of metal. The barest noise of a scrape of metal over plaster. Slowly, you peered upwards. Nothing. The ceiling was its normal, usual painted colour, the metal support beams poking out of the plaster. You frowned but looked back at your tea. There was another noise. Metal scraping over each other. The noise was coming from behind the closed door to the kitchen. You left the tea unattended and reached for the door handle, pressing the pad to open it with a whirr of mechanical locks. It clunked open. Nothing. Your washing robot chirped at you in confusion his screen flashing with a question mark across his face before you smiled, trying to ease his nerves.

“Hey, don’t panic. I just thought I heard something…” You trailed off as you looked past your washing robot and into the room. Nothing was out of place.

It was then that your washing bot gave a strangled beep and danced away from where he was attached to the wall, pulling the water pipes tight as he beeped in upset.

 “Pah.” A silver clawed hand retracted up back on top of the fridge after taking a rude swipe at your friend, “Stupid tin-can.” Revenant hissed from the giant chrome refrigerator, flashing his claws back at the robot once more.

“How the fuck did you even get in here?” You asked as you looked up at the Simulacrum, “I told you not to come back.”

Revenant’s body contorted on the top of the fridge, his head twisting to the side as his orange eyes span and swirled in the shadows, “I know.” He rumbled, “I…” He went silent as his pistons clicked and he slid over the top of the furniture and down onto the floor with a click and a hiss.

“You what? You needed another bottle of whiskey?” You challenged.

Revenant stood to his full height, looming over you, the joints of his fingers clicking before he gave a grunt, “Something like that.” He rumbled as he looked down at you before he looked back at your washing bot and flexed his shoulders, “I didn’t know you had company.”

 Suddenly, that tension was gone, and Revenant stepped past you to flash his hand at the other robot again. It was a threat perhaps, but your washing robot chirped unhappily again.

“Stupid bag of bolts.” Revenant grumbled at it.

“Hey.” You intervened, “Leave him alone. He’s just a washing bot.” You grabbed Revenant’s arm.

It was like the Simulacrum froze in time, his eyes glaring down at the place where your fingers wrapped around the metal. With a snort, Revenant tugged his arm free from your grip.

“It’s just a washing bot, like you said.” Revenant stalked from the kitchen, his mechanical legs thumping softly as he went. As he left you made sure your friend was safe. Beyond a small nick at the base of his neck he was fine. You nudged him back into his power station to continue his cycles in sleep mode.

 You followed Revenant into the bar to see him picking through your cabinet again, his metal fingers tapping along the labels of the liquors as he decided back to pluck from your reserves.

“What happened to the rest of that posh stuff?” Revenant asked with a hum as he looked through the back of the cabinet.

“You had the last bottle. The supplier hasn’t been in a while.” You watched him look back before he selected another expensive looking bottle. This time it was tequila. You didn’t say anything as he took it out and eyed the label before disappearing into the corner of your bar, slinking into the booth farthest away from you in silence. The Simulacrum didn’t glance back at you as he cracked open the bottle and placed the glass neck between his metal jaws before tipping his head back and emptying a good portion of the alcohol into his synthetic stomach. You watched with a small cringe as he seemed unfazed by the burning liquor. His orange eyes snapped to you as you watched him from the bar.

 His gravelly voice carried well across the room, gracing your ears with the deeply pissed off timbre, “What are you looking at?” Revenant asked with a roll of his optics, “I’m not going to steal anything.” He rumbled.

You watched him for a moment before replying, “I’m more concerned why you want to be here.”

Revenant looked you dead in the eyes as his mechanical thumb stroked the label of the bottle, “Call it a whim, whatever. It’s quiet and there isn’t that annoying Andrade brat. Don’t go thinking anything different. You tell them where I am, and I’ll take great pleasure in making you squeal like the little meatsack you are.”

“You know. There’s no need to threaten me with a good time every time you come in here.” This was a new tactic, and you watched his optics twitch from his bottle to your face.

“Are you making fun of me, skinsuit?” Revenant growled, his two metal jaws parting slightly to reveal the sheen of copper in his mouth with an angry snarl.

“Hardly.” You scoffed, “Fine.” You relented as you headed for the light switch, “Stay here, but I’m going to bed. Enjoy your pity party.” With a snap of the lights, you walked back into the kitchen and to the back staircase to your own apartment. You made sure to lock the door firmly before stripping off for a shower and heading to bed.

 Revenant peered into the darkness with a hum, his fingers tapping along the table before he tugged the bottle of liquor closer and snapped on the holoscreen in the corner, searching for something to fill the noise in the dark bar with outside of his own memories playing over and over again behind his eyes.

 “Skinsuit.” There was a grunt before the bed shook and dipped either side of your body, “Skinsuit!”

With a jolt you woke up, just to come face to face with the skull-head of Revenant and a sneer.

“Finally. I thought I was going to have to choke you awake.” Revenant grumbled as he peered over you, his legs splayed like a spider either side of you as he looked down at you tucked into the covers. His hands pulled back from either side of your head and you watched him flash his claws as he sat back, still perched over your legs, looming like a deranged killer.

“Do I need to ask why you’re up in my room?” You asked groggily, wiping sleep from your eyes as Revenant watched you sit up with great interest. The Simulacrum purred, a low rumbling from somewhere in his throat, as you met him face to face, glaring at his orange and black eyes.

 “Your little washing bot is screaming downstairs. It sounds horrendous.” Revenant didn’t move away, his skeletal nose rushing with air as he inhaled the smell of you.

“If you did something Revenant…”

“You’ll what? You’ll kill me?” He wheezed a great laugh as his claws dragged at your sheets, “Good luck with that, skinsuit. There’s millions of bodies just waiting for me to be reuploaded into them.” He snarled before rasping again as his arms and legs whirred into downwards positions, allowing him to snap, flip and crawl off your bed in one, bizarrely fluid motion before he clicked back into place and stood over the side of your bed with another, odd, calculating rumble.  

 You decided to ignore his snide remark and bitter tone, “Is he malfunctioning?” You asked as you threw back the covers and climbed out of bed to face the Simulacrum. He was intimidating at nearly seven feet tall but slim and streamlined with the ability to move silently at will despite being made from entirely heavy bulletproof metal. He looked down at you, his metal lips parted, unimpressed with your pyjamas covered in small Nesse prints.

“Not a clue.” His orange eyes looked you up and down before he strolled over to look through your desk.

“Hey, asshole.” You snapped at him as he tugged a thick looking document from a fat wad of paper, “No one invited you to look through my things.”

Revenant chuckled, “No. They didn’t…” He pulled open one of the drawers underneath him and hummed at the pens and random assortments of stationary in there, “A penis pen.” He held the phallic pen between his fingers, “Practical.”

 You ignored his taunting swaying of the pen back and forth and hastened down the stairs towards the sound of your screaming washing bot. As you opened the door to the bar kitchen you ducked as a pot came flying towards your head. It clattered against the wall and smashed into several pieces. You avoided the shards as you pushed into the kitchen and saw the pipes spraying water down onto the floor and the robot trying to slam his front closed.

“Oh my…” You didn’t finish your sentence as he caught sight of you and screamed again, the screen in his stomach covered with crying faces as he rushed towards you, holding the severed and burst pipes in one hand and his drawer closed with the other. He screeched again waving the dripping pipes in front of you before shrinking behind your form, ducking as low as it could get as Revenant filled the entrance way into the kitchen.

 His raspy laugh made you scowl. Revenant slinked in through the doorway and set about scratching his claws along the tiles, making a noise that was so ear grating you had to clench your teeth.

“I didn’t expect for him to piss all over your floor, I’ll admit.” The Simulacrum laughed, harshly and entirely mean.

“I knew you had something to do with this!” You pointed a finger in his face, “Why can’t you just leave me alone?! Why do you have to insist on being foul for a reaction?” Your anger seethed out of you as you hid your little robot behind you.

Revenant sneered, “You’re no fun, skinsuit.” He snarled before he snagged the pipes from your robot’s hands and grabbed the mechanical washing bot along the floor, kicking and screaming. His claws crunched into the metal of the washer bot’s shoulder as he pulled it towards the wall it had previously been stationed at. It wiggled violently before Revenant heaved it up and held the pipes up before driving them together with a metallic thunk. The connectors clicked back together easily, and the washing robot beeped confusedly as Revenant stood him against the wall and banged on the front of his tummy, slamming the door closed with a vicious thump of his metal palm. The door remained closed and the washing robot chirped in confusion.

 You looked at the floor and then back to Revenant as he trudged back through the puddles of water and loomed over you again. He gave a long, low, robotic chuckle as he spun his hand and curled the claws towards his palm.

“I fixed your issue.” He stated with a look at his claws before he snapped them into a spike and made sure to push you back against the door, “Your welcome, skinsuit.”

You felt anger boil in your gut, “What? Do you want me to thank you or something?” You spat as you looked up at the unnatural orange optics. They span, the robotic pupils clicking as he focused on your face and the anger that painted your expression.

Revenant’s fingers curled into the wall, “Something like that.” He whispered as he stared at the anger on your face, “I didn’t do this, before you blame me.” With a scoff, he released you from the wall and sauntered through the puddles of water towards the back door, “Nice seeing you…” He turned to look at you, his headscarf rippling in the breeze, “You look nice when you sleep.”

“FREAK!” You screamed after him as he disappeared up the smooth concrete wall and over the next building with a hiss of pistons.

 Your washing bot chirped sadly and held out his hands to you with a shake. You looked and spotted the spanner in his hands as he sheepishly rubbed his washing compartment.

“Well. At least I don’t have to bill him for this as well…but maybe I will to spite the bastard.” You considered as you carefully took a towel to your friend and then grumbled, wading across the kitchen to find the mop to get rid of the rest of the puddles.

 Revenant seemed to lurk in the corners of your vision after that, always sat in the back of the bar, with some bottle of hard liquor and a deadly, judgemental gaze turned on the rest of the patrons. Those who knew him from the Apex Games did not dare approach him. He took great pleasure in launching a young man over the table once from a handshake, laughing as he stalked over to him and signed his name on the boy’s cheek in his own blood. You had promptly doubled his price for drinks that night, but the Simulacrum did not complain, he paid at closing and disappeared into the night. Sometimes he lurked after closing time. More often than not, you found him glaring down at your washing bot as the robot thrust a mop at him to try and get him off the cupboards or fridges. Angry beeps were then met with your angry glares. For some reason, Revenant adored the look. Anger furrowing your brows and a snarl on your lips made him feel smug, almost joyful. He was positively gleeful when he was tormenting you.

 However, the bar was shut for the workers day, a holiday for most of the city, and Revenant was left without his normal activities to entertain himself. He stalked around his room for a while, jumping and reaching for items he had hung from his ceiling as exercise before he looked at the charging port and bed. There was nothing else in his room. A spare scarf was hung in the wardrobe along with the scraps of a suit he had taken great pleasure in peeling apart in front of the other legends before a conference. With a huff he opened the ventilation shaft and rotated his spinal column before his shoulders snapped and tucked in close underneath his arms, allowing for him to fit into the vent and scuttle along to the next room. Noxious fumes made him pause, but with another slow filtration of air he scoffed and opened the grate on the other side.

“Mercury won’t rot my insides, Nox.” His head turned one hundred and eighty degrees before his body followed in a contortion of metal, spilling out and rotating on top of Alexander’s glassware cabinet.

Caustic looked at him with vicious cold green eyes, “I’ve yet to find anything but charged copper dispersals that will have an effect.” He uttered softly, clinical and effective as he opened his filtration systems and watched the mercury vapours swirl away into the chambers above, “Why are you bothering me, Simulacrum?”

Revenant lowered his head over the side of the cabinet, “I smelt rotten eggs. Sulfur. But maybe you just passed gas.” He jeered as he watched Caustic cork the rest of the reaction and pull another yet of heavy metals from a rack alongside various acids.

“Maybe hydrofluoric acid will make you quieter?” Caustic hissed, “I’m working.”

“I know.” Revenant hummed from the cabinet, “But you’re not that busy.” He dragged his claws over the top of the metal with a laugh.

 Caustic closed the arm opening of his experimental chamber with a slam as he peeled free his gloves in order to point a scarred finger at the Simulacrum, “You never come in here unless you’re bored.” He observed as he removed his goggles and respirator, “And that isn’t often…Not after you found that little toy to play with. Did Bloodhound not warn you off enough with that slice to your oil recycler?”

Revenant growled from the cabinet as he leaned over the top, leering at the Chemist underneath him, “It was fucking ugly bleeding shit down my legs but there’s always another body for me…Bloodhound didn’t heal to quickly from my blow I think.” He flashed his claws and hummed as he tucked himself back on the unit, far out of Caustic’s reach, “Besides. That feral brat doesn’t tell me what to do.”

“No but they might be inclined to give you another cut for harassing a…what do you call them…skinsuit?” Alexander’s eyes lit up with silent glee as he watched Revenant click and adjust on top of his glassware cabinet.

“Carry on old man and I’ll show you just what I did to Bloodhound.” Revenant hissed as he laid over the top, his metal legs hanging down over Caustic’s head.

 Caustic binned his gloves and hung his goggles after washing them before he turned on the air conditioning and moved back towards his desk, “I have no desire to taste steel today. So,” He span in his chair, his rectangle frame glasses perched on the end of his nose, “Are you going to tell me what you’re here for? Evidently your little toy isn’t around to entertain you today.”

Revenant propped his head up on his arm, tapping a claw against the metal beneath his eye before he rumbled, “Its…boring.” With a small sigh he looked down at Caustic, “I didn’t think I could feel but its exciting to watch them, like a little rat running around. A little angry rat.”

Alexander was turned back to his desk, working over something before he replied, “You might be an illegally made conscious robot but you will still carry humanity…even if your programming was once to kill.” He shrugged up at the robot, “Perhaps you are having a mild fascination? Infatuation if you will. I can’t say I have felt it myself… The idea of such intimacy disgusts me, but perhaps you are more human than you originally thought?” Glee laced Caustic’s tone as he smirked up at Revenant.

Anger churned in Revenant’s processors, “Human am I.” He slipped from the cabinet and slid in one movement, grabbing for Caustic’s throat.

 His fingers were cold, but Caustic let him grapple from the chair. The Chemist was far shorter than him but was large, bulky and strong despite his love for poisonous gases.

“Did I hit a nerve?” He asked with a laugh and a wheeze which was followed by a cough.

Revenant looked down at him, orange eyes swirling before he leaned close to Caustic’s face, “Compare me to you soft bellied sacks of skin again and I’ll slice you from groin to neck just for the fun of it…Then maybe I’ll show your little apprentice what you look like.”

“I dare you to try Simulacrum.” Caustic whispered before he pried the robotic hand off his throat and sat back down in his chair, slicking his hair back with a huff, “Why not just ask to see them?”  

“Pah.” Revenant’s joints clicked as he climbed back onto the cabinet, “Like I want to see them.” He hissed, “They do nothing but tell me to leave.”

“Have you considered that is because you are foul?!” Caustic shouted as he leaned back to see Revenant disappear back into the vent, “Idiotic fool.” He cursed softly before erasing the measurements for the next reactions he had planned.

 Days suddenly past without Revenant in the corner of the bar. Your washing buddy seemed quiet and contemplative without having to beat him off the countertops, and you found yourself slowly relaxing until it was concerning. The Simulacrum was never gone for long. It was a week since before you knew it and you knew they were still in the downtime between seasons. He had no reason for being gone. You caught yourself one night as you worried about where he had gotten to.

“Probably finally got what was coming to him for that big mouth.” You whispered as you took the cleaned glasses from your robot and began to place them away.

The door opened with a creak and you huffed, “We’re closed!” You shouted over your shoulder, “I swore I turned the sign around…”

There was no one in the bar. You scowled as you opened the bar door and walked towards the entrance where the door was propped open an inch or so, letting the warm air into the bar.

“Hello?” You asked quietly as you opened the door and peered outside.

“Skinsuit.” Revenant hummed from above you.

 You peered upwards and felt a sense of relief wash over you as you gazed into the orange eyes of the sour looking Simulacrum above you. His head turned, much like a bird, as he regarded you.

“You’ve been gone a while.” You commented idly as you stood outside the door. Your foot hit the pavement and the Simulacrum held up one silver finger.

He pointed down at your foot, “I think you just stood on something.”

You jumped when cardboard crumpled and something rattled around in the box, sending it shooting towards the taxi rails. With a rush you grabbed for the box and frowned at the largeness of it.

“Why did you get me an animal?” You asked as you heaved the box to the front door, eyeing the air holes stamped in the side.

“Call it an investment.” He grunted as he dropped from your roof and stood behind you, watching with eager eyes as you carefully opened the lid.

 A growl sounded from within and you jumped back at the sight of the small Prowler cub pacing back and forth in the box.

“REVENANT, WHAT THE FUCK?!” You screeched as the Prowler cub scrambled from the box and hissed, flaring the bare bones of its frills at you, trying to appear intimidating.

“No need to shout. You’ll scare the little guy.” Revenant insisted as he closed the door, “I found him is all. Thought you might like it. Kings Canyon…well its not great but if you head into the jungles of Leviathan there’s still some of these things that survived the purging of the planet.”

“How did you even find one?” You asked as the cub rushed underneath a table, quivering and hissing sadly, “They’re…endangered.”

“It was stuck in a pit. Probably game hunters. I nabbed it. Its weedy and pathetic looking so I thought you might like it.” He shrugged, “I can’t keep animals in the tower so he’s yours.”

You stood silently for a moment, trying to figure out just what the gift meant. That Revenant trusted you? That he thought about you? You didn’t know what to make of it.

 “Are you going to pay for the food?” You asked with a smirk aimed at the Simulacrum stood over you.

The seven-foot robot gave a single, dry laugh before he held up a large bag, “Way ahead of you, skinsuit.” He reached in and pulled out a heavy looking metal dish, “Don’t give me that look.” He gestured to your face, “So happy, doing that thing with your little beady eyes. Its revolting.” With a scoff he pushed past you and headed towards the cowering cub before plucking it from the floor, ignoring the black teeth snapping at him as he pulled at its frill and admired the deep blue and orange colours along his back.

“Hey.” You cautiously approached, “Put him back on the floor, I have a good idea on how to win him over.” You gestured to Revenant who rolled his eyes but dropped the cub with a huff and grabbed a bottle of liquor to watch from the bar as you took off your sweater and gently eased it under the table.

 The Prowler ignored you, mouth agape and dark under its neck. Next you took the food bowel and pulled out the food Revenant had gathered. A small amount of cubed beef was enough, and you placed it in his bowl before filling the other and leaving for the bar.

“Really? That’s it?” He droned, “How boring. I thought you might wrestle it and get eaten alive.” He trailed his fingers over the wood, “Now what?”

“We leave him alone. He needs to settle in. Its all new and traumatic.” You insisted as the cub took a sniff of your sweater and laid in the mass with a sad whimper.

“How dull…Maybe he’ll chew through a pipe in the night.” Revenant wondered as he tipped his head back and poured some liquor into his mouth.

“Hopefully not…but thank you. I didn’t think you were capable of being nice.” You whispered as you watched the Prowler bed himself down.

“Don’t get used to it.” Revenant snapped, but without as much of his usual bite, “It might come back to bite you.”

“Well, it very well might. Look at his teeth.” You joked, for once feeling at ease with the murderous robot in the room.

Revenant only gave another series of dry laughs.

“Demonio.” You cooed at the small cub as he attacked a hunk of meat with talons and teeth. It chewed on its back teeth before its ears pricked behind the frill around his neck.

“Demonio.” You cooed once again and the Prowler looked at you with a grumbling chirp, licking the blood from around its mouth as it eyed the small, marrow filled bone in your palm, “Come on boy.” You wiggled the bone back and forth as the orange eyes tracked your hand along its course.

“Do you like making fun of me?” Revenant grumbled from his seat at the edge of the bar, “That damn brat is the only one who calls me that.” He hissed.

Demonio eyed the bone before he got to his feet and prowled over before licking at your fingers. He took a nip before waiting for the bone.

“Good boy.” You reached with your other hand and touched his frill, gently running your hand down his nose before you gave him the bone and stood up to head back to Revenant.

 “He seems fonder of you.” Revenant observed with a hum, “Almost like a soft little dog.” He spat at the cub, “How delightfully boring.”

“Maybe, but I appreciate not being bitten by him anymore.” You answered as you looked back at the Prowler. He was already growing, and you were more than happy to look after him, but he was going to get large, “Even if he might outgrow me one day…well and maybe try to eat me at any moment.” You huffed.

Revenant snorted, “Ha. Maybe he will, but I’m sure Predators are less inclined to eat people they like.”

You looked at the Simulacrum, “Is that why I’m still alive?” It was barely a whisper, “Because you like making my life miserable?”

 Revenant looked taken aback, his orange eyes turning into pinpoints as he considered his next words, “Miserable…No.” His metal jaws clicked, “You’re the only person that can make me laugh.”

Those words were heavy, and you watched him struggle for a moment with himself, “I don’t understand anything. I was programmed to kill for…I don’t know. A long time. This is new for me and I have hated every second of feeling more than I did being nothing but a slaughter machine.” He growled.

“You should call me by my name then.” You smiled as you said it for him, and the Simulacrum nodded once before repeating it back to you and turning to watch Demonio gnaw on his bone.

“Oh,” Revenant looked back at you and you poured him another drink, “For the record, I like you as well Revenant.” You smiled as you sat down next to him and watched Demonio work on his bone a little longer.

 “Demonio!” You rushed after the Prowler as he launched himself at a customer. He was now a juvenile, and the hound like beast was quick to dislike anyone that touched you over the bar. You kept him behind the bar, but the creature was quick to jump at people that took hold of you. Revenant laughed from the end of the bar, tucked in the shadows of the wall as he ran his claws back and forth over the bar, “He knows people shouldn’t touch what isn’t there’s.” The Simulacrum sneered as the patron whipped around to look at him.

“Oh yeah, you metal fucker? What are you saying?”

“That your disgusting little skin sack hands don’t deserve to be near ‘em.” Revenant’s fingers snapped together, the fusion metal slamming together as he raised himself over the bar, spun and stuck up against the ceiling over the man, “Maybe I’ll take more than your hand like the hound would.” He ran the sharp spear of his hand down the man’s cheek, “I think your innards would make a lovely adornment to my mantle.”

“Revenant.” You tugged the hand away, “Enough.” You hissed at him, “Sir, I’m sorry for the drama…”

“Save it. I’m out of here.” He shoved his drink over the side and rushed to the door, “Bunch of fucking weirdos.” He snarled as he left.

 The night drew to a close and Revenant spent the rest of the opening hours sulking in the back of the bar, alone on a table, with his feet propped up on the metal, his drink untouched as he watched the patrons with a vicious glare.

“Revenant.” You uttered as Demonio pattered along behind you, his frill flared as he dragged his tug rope for play time, “Are we going to talk about what happened, or are you going to sulk forever?” You asked as you sat across from him, pushing his feet to the side in order to see his gaunt metal face.

The Simulacrum snorted, “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Oh, there is.” You huffed, “You threatened to kill a man tonight who grabbed hold of my hand.” You sat back as Demonio pushed his head into your lap and you rubbed the scaley skin around his ears.

“Is there? I wasn’t aware that it was a problem.” Revenant moved his feet from the table, “He was an asshole. I won’t apologise for my actions.”

“I’m not…”

“And I sure as hell won’t be giving you money for his drinks..”

“Will you shut up and listen?” You snapped.

 Revenant felt anger threaten to spill over, but he slumped back in his seat as you pushed your finger down against the wood and scowled. He watched you with a huff.

“You’re lashing out and I want to know why.” You demanded, “From day one you were horrible. A cruel and mean machine that wanted nothing but to inconvenience me every day, but now you’re…giving me gifts. You’re here constantly and you just…You stopped me from getting a very horrible string of abuse. So, explain this to me, because I’m at a loss.”

Revenant was silent. His chassis was still and his wiring and pistons clunked as though he was being jolted back to life. He opened his hand on the table and dared to reach for one of your own. Smooth, cold metal fingers grazed your fingertips before they gingerly moved up and over your palm to stroke the soft skin. His orange eyes watched the pulse in your wrist before he linked the fingers once, squeezing tightly before he moved away again and guarded himself, crossing his arms out of your reach.

 “I…” He paused again, “I care for you.” That was it, he was silent again, his eyes watching you as you took in the meaning of the words he had dared to utter.

“Care for me?” You whispered back at him.

Anger laced him once again, “Yes, you stupid skinsuit! I might even feel something like love or joy!” He hollered as he flashed his claws and scraped them against one another, “Its infuriating and…And it hurts!” He threw his hand at the wall, “It hurts because I know I’m nothing but a giant killing machine! I’m stained in so much blood I could swim in it and nothing can ever make you love a disgusting creature like me!” Revenant heaved, almost like a human, his spinal column lurching as he screamed in frustration again and moved to stand up.

Like a viper, you grabbed at his hand and tugged, hard enough to jolt his fingers, but he was unfazed. He towered over you and watched, looking down at you with lonely eyes as his fingers dared, once again, to wrap around your own, seeking the heat they no longer possessed. He uttered your name, once, softly, as though he wasn’t allowed to say it, and then he looked you in the eyes.

 “That week you didn’t show up was like torture.” You said carefully, “For the first time, I was actually worried about you. It was then that I realised I liked having you around. Everything you did it was not to piss me off… well it was, but you haven’t had to speak or make friends with someone in so long, you just forgot how to do it anymore.” You felt your hand begin to shake in his, “But then the gifts started, and you thought about them. I said I wanted a dog one day, and well Demonio isn’t a dog but he’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever been given…So,” You smiled at him, “What I’m trying to say is that I think I might love you too.”

Revenant’s hand fell from your own and he looked to the wall for a moment before replying, “You really think you can love me?” He whispered, appearing small despite his towering height.

“Yes, I think I can.” You affirmed before leaning up to wrap your arms around him. The Simulacrum flinched before wrapping his thin, cold arms around you, taking in the warmth of the hug before pressing his face to your neck and humming at the gentle sensation of a kiss against his cheek.

“What was that for?” He asked quietly.

“Because I love you.” You whispered as you hugged him tighter.

#revenant x reader #revenant x gender neutral reader #revenant apex #apex revenant #apex legends revenant #revenant #apex legends #reader insert #apex legends fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #silence #caustic #alexander nox

[hydra-collector]

i keep you safe from harm, you hold me in your arms

AO3

Ship: Intrulogical

Characters: Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders, Janus Sanders, Patton Sanders, Virgil Sanders (minor), Roman Sanders (minor)

TW: suicide attempts, food, self-deprecation/self-hate, kissing, blood/gore

Words: 4,617

Summary: Remus becomes Logan’s protector, the only one who knows the extent of his poor mental health. Logan tries his best.

Remus hadn’t seen Logan all day.

It wasn’t like they were best friends or anything, but the creative side would often pass him in the halls, maybe spit out a gross fact or two, and occasionally get something of a smile from him. But Logan hadn’t come to breakfast, lunch, dinner, or even come out of his room.

He’d asked the others, even though they were wary why he wanted to know where Logan was. He was just… concerned. And it wasn’t like he was running around the imagination like a desperate, crazed lunatic.

He was just worried.

Remus had been wandering around the mindscape for a while. Most of the other sides had gone to sleep at this point, but he wasn’t one for a healthy or regular sleep schedule. 

Footsteps.

In all likelihood, it was Virgil. But he’d lived with the anxious side for a long time, and his steps were lighter and faster than this. He followed them.

He vaguely wondered which side would be up at this time. Janus and Logan were all advocates of self care, Patton had been on a 9PM bedtime since he was ten, and Roman always lamented about his beauty sleep whenever Remus came in to bother him. Even Virgil usually wouldn’t get up until 3 or so, and it was only half past midnight now.

Was that… crying?

It was coming from the direction of the bathroom. He sped up, curious as to who it was and what was going on. Light spilled out from the door, slightly cracked open. The sobs continued, and he ruled out Janus from the sound. Janus cried near-silently, if he even did.

He peered through the crack, trying to make himself as invisible as possible. Whoever it was, they weren’t in view of his position. Nothing but-

Their hand.

He noticed the watch around the side’s wrist. It was Logan. And he was reaching for…

The bleach?

He paused for a moment, trying to decide why someone sitting on the floor of the bathroom needed bleach. He cracked the door open a little wider, adjusting himself so Logan’s leg came into view. He heard scribbling, perhaps on the floor, and then whatever writing utensil used being thrown to the side, the piece of paper floating to the middle of the floor, in Remus’s line of sight.

He didn’t like the look of this.

The sobs continued, feeling their full release now, and the bottle cap came off. Remus nearly panicked; if he didn’t go inside to see what Logan was doing, he might regret it.

He threw the door open, finding Logan leaning against the bathtub, tears streaming down his face, blood streaming down his arms. He’d slashed his wrists, and seemed to be using the last of his energy to bring the bleach to his lips.

No. No, no, no, God, please no-

Remus clumsily wrestled the bleach from his grasp, which wasn’t exactly very hard to do, and shove it to the side. A bit spilled out, mixing with the blood pooling on the floor. He ravaged the cabinet, looking for something, anything, to stop the bleeding. He tossed the things he knew he’d need on the floor and settled for a towel to stop the immediate flow.

He returned in front of Logan, trying to be as gentle as the panicked embodiment of intrusive thoughts could be as he tightened the thick towel around Logan’s arms. The logical side made no move to resist, probably exhausted, hungry, and dizzy.

“Why…” Logan’s word trailed off as the blood soaked into the towels and both he and Remus’s clothes. The metallic smell was overwhelming as it fused with the scent of bleach.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I don’t want you to die, idiot.”

Remus let Logan’s arms rest on his lap, making sure he wasn’t going to try anything or disrupt the arrangement. He shifted away from him to close the bleach and wash it off before replacing it in the cabinet. He looked around for the knife, finding its shiny blade in the tub, where there was more blood dripping from the sides. He snapped it from existence.

He picked up the note, sitting down cross-legged in front of Logan. The handwriting was fairly low-quality, and there were a few drops of blood and tears sullying it.

Dear Patton, Roman, Virgil, Janus, and Remus,

I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough.

Logan

It was short. And it hurt.

Remus pulled the towels off of Logan’s arms, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as well. He wet a washcloth, gently dabbing at Logan’s wounds. Remus could handle anything, but the dark red lines almost made him feel sick. He did his best to avoid the tensing and cringing that would inevitably happen as he patched up Logan’s wounds. 

“You’re good enough,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. He waited for a response, wondering if he was going to get one.

Logan hesitated, staring at the bandages numbly. 

“...Just don’t tell them. Please.”

He wasn’t ready to confront that, was he?

“I won’t.”

He finished, Logan waiting by the door as he mopped up the blood. While he would’ve been glad to let it sit there and terrify the others, that was suspicious, and if he didn’t, Logan would’ve tried to.

Remus whisked away the mop, joining Logan by the door. He wrapped his arms around Logan, the fresh smell of his shirt contrasting with the metallic scent filling the room. Logan took a step back, surprised, but Remus pulled him tighter so he wouldn’t stumble.

“Don’t do that again, okay?”

Logan didn’t answer for a moment, sinking into the hug.

“I… I’ll try.”

~~

Virgil grabbed him by the arm, pulling him through the halls to the bathroom where the other sides were flocked. It was the designated hair-dying day, and everyone had agreed. Except for Logan.

Virgil (and the other sides) knew how adverse he was to it, how desperate he was to be taken seriously. Yet they ignored him when he told them.

Remus was the one with the hoard of dye colors, tossing the ones he didn’t want aside for the rest of the sides to search through. Patton already had his color, a blue that was a little more saturated than Logan would’ve thought. Roman chose a deep, dark red within the next few moments, to no one’s surprise, and Virgil started chatting, trying to figure out if he should use the same color as last time or a new one.

The indigo blue, he had to admit, did look appealing. It was a rich color, and would fit nicely with his tie.

But…

He had other issues to worry about.

The other sides already didn’t take him seriously enough, and if he dyed his hair by choice it would push them over the edge. He’d be treated like an idiot, like he wasn’t worth even pretending to listen to.

Remus was deciding between a dark forest green and a bright lime green, while Virgil had settled on his old color, and Janus was staring intently at a yellow.

“I might skip the coloring,” Janus began, “and just bleach it.”

Bleach.

Bleach, bleach, bleach, bleach, bleach.

“Sounds good.” Virgil situated the supplies, lining up their chosen colors. “Who wants to go first?”

Patton volunteered, and Virgil began preparing the powder. The smell grew, reaching Logan.

A wave of lightheadedness washed over him, and he felt as if he was choking. It took all of his strength not to stumble back or run out of the room in a panic. This was stupid, stupid, stupid, he shouldn’t feel this way. Panic was Virgil’s irrational torture that Logan would calm him down for, not a stupid memory of stupid things, stupid decisions, stupid thoughts, stupid Logan, stupid, stupid, stupid-

“Hey, do you think I could get Logan to test this out on my clothes? I wanna see how it’ll stain if I use a lot of colors.” Remus wore a wide grin, grabbing Logan’s hand and dragging him out of the room. The other sides watched quizzically as they left, but Virgil would trust Remus enough to come back.

Once they were in the hall, away from the ears of the others, Remus set his hands on Logan’s shoulders. 

“Hey, hey, Logan, it’s okay, look at me.”

Logan did as he asked, focusing on the eyes staring back at him. He knew, he should know how to calm down from this. Even if he wasn’t dying his hair, they might pressure him into it. They might force him, and then what would he do, as it was unavoidable. Would he panic then? Would he show that, that he was weak-

“Logan!”

He snapped back to attention, Remus’s hand running through his hair.

“You don’t have to go back. You’re not gonna die, and it’s not gonna hurt you. You’re here now.”

Logan took deep breaths, at least remembering that. Remus’s firm hold on his shoulders was comforting. He placed his own hands on Remus’s, pulling them down so he could get a proper hug instead.

“I’m sorry, Remus.”

Remus shook his head into Logan’s shoulder, tightening his hug. “Don’t be. Don’t ever be sorry for feeling bad.”

Logan nodded, clutching Remus like a lifeline. 

“Do you wanna hang out in your room while we do our hair?”

“That sounds… good.”

~~

Patton cut up the pieces of beef into little squares, tossing them in the pot. Remus was messing around with the spices, offering his combinations up to Patton. Logan leaned against the counter, not having much to do but watch them argue playfully.

The smells from the pot were intoxicating. It wasn’t Patton’s cooking, or anyone but Janus’s cooking, that could make the aromas drift around the room, but rather the three of them sticking strictly to the recipe. They’d even been banned from adding their own bits of spices. Patton had attempted that once, and they never again spoke of it (although Remus had tried adding a few… unconventional ingredients once in a while.)

Patton took the potatoes out from their basket, handing them to Logan.

“Do you think you could do these?”

He nodded, rinsing them off under the tap. He searched around in a few drawers for the peeler, shaving off the skin. It was an easy job, he was just glad to have something to do. Once he’d finished, Remus grabbed two from the cutting board to start… juggling. 

“Remus!”

Patton and Logan both sighed as Logan moved to wrestle the potatoes as Remus dodged away from him, nearly dropping them in the process. Patton crept up behind him so he was sandwiched between them. It wasn’t hard for Logan to reach up and catch one at its peak, and for Patton to get the other one in his surprise.

“Hey!”

Remus reached for another potato, but was held back by Patton. Logan and Patton chuckled as Remus pouted, giving up on his struggle.

“You never let me have any fun.”

Patton let go. “The food’s gonna burn. And you remember how that went last time.”

“Plus,” Logan resumed his spot, rinsing the potatoes that Remus had manhandled under cold water, “you have an entire Imagination to run around, you don’t need to juggle the potatoes.”

Patton returned to his job, allowing Remus to bounce around the room at his leisure.

“Oh, could you cut those?”

Patton gestured to the potatoes, handing Logan a knife. Sharp and shiny.

He forced himself to take it, the object seeming heavier and scarier than it should. He gripped it tightly, trying to steady himself and his breathing. But the feeling was far too familiar as he cut.

He didn’t trust himself.

He jumped when he felt a hand on his back, then sinking into it. It was Remus. The knife was taken from him quickly, and he was pushed out of the way as Remus took his place. He sighed in relief, allowing Remus to hug him tight from the side.

He tapped out a breathing pattern on his leg, trying to divert his attention from knives and blades.

Thank god Remus was there, with his warm, comforting touch.

~~

“Logan?”

A weight settled beside him on the bed, and he looked up from his computer. Remus was kneeling there, sneaking his hand towards Logan’s. Its heat settled there, bringing a heat up to his cheeks.

“What do you need?”

Remus looked… sad. Worry was more accurate, as he leaned back on his feet.

“Are you gonna do something about…”

He paused, looking down. “About how you feel. You need to deal with that.”

Oh. That.

He’d been hoping he could ignore it for as long as he possibly could, but it had been him that had lectured Thomas on repression.

He just wished it could be over.

“I know, Remus.”

The creative side leaned towards him, offering a hand. Logan shifted a little closer, allowing Remus to hold his hand in a tight squeeze.

“I mean, there’s… there’s only so much I can do for you. I would be happy to help you get better and recover and stuff, but… I don’t know how. Janus and Patton- or Thomas, even, they could help you much better than I could. I don’t want you to-”

“I’m not gonna kill myself.”

Logan’s voice was unintentionally cold as he dug his nails into the palm of his free hand. He wasn’t sure if he believed what he’d just said. But he had to, and he was going to make Remus believe it too.

“Lo, that’s not the only problem. I don’t want you to want to kill yourself. Well, I don’t want you to feel any kind of bad ever, but that’s kind of unavoidable.”

“I can figure this out on my own, Remus. I don’t need the assholes that haven’t given a shit about my mental health for years to help me.”

“Logan, there’s no way you can do this all yourself-”

Logan ripped his hand from Remus’s grasp, pulling it to his stomach defensively. “Do you really think they’re going to help?!?!? They’ll act like they care, but the moment I do a single thing wrong, they’ll turn their backs on me. They aren’t gonna care if I’m fucking depressed. They never have! I’ll be defective, useless, worthless to them. They’re gonna ignore me and ignore me like they always have, they’re just gonna pretend I’m okay so they don’t have to deal with me. I can’t- I can’t live through that.”

“Logan, please, they won’t do that. I’ll tell them what they’ve done-”

“No offense, but do you really think your opinion is going to matter to anyone but me?”

Remus didn’t have a reply. Logan knew exactly what he’d just said, and the creative side knew that he regretted it. But it was true. No one listened to him but Logan, and sometimes Janus. He was known for being stupid and saying dumb things. There was only so much of a difference his input could make.

“Fine. You can try and completely fix your mental health all on your own, but I can tell you it’s not gonna work. Talk to me once you’ve learned how to ask for help.”

Logan sighed as Remus left, disappointed in himself. He’d given up the only person who seemed to care about him just because he was too stubborn to improve his mental health. But still, he feared how the other sides would respond. And if they tried to help and failed, he would fall further than he ever could in his current state.

He laid down, staring up at the ceiling. Wishing for death.

~~

“I took this form to be less intrusive.”

The video sped through in a blur. He was unable to process much after his immediate rejection, thankful for his pixelated form where the tears couldn’t fall. He’d hoped… they would be kinder. But all he got was reassurance that they were tired of him and his facts.

He wanted to be better.

But no, he was as intrusive as Remus. And not in Remus’s endearing persistence, or sudden exclamations, or when he was just trying to do his job. Logic should be good enough, good enough at the very least to offer useful input.

He wished Remus was here.

He wished Remus was giving his hand a tight squeeze, offering reassurance and checking up to make sure their words weren’t causing him to panic. He wished he was there, trying to defend him with all his might even though he knew his voice wasn’t loud enough in the group.

He forced himself through it, through their ignorance and his misery. It wasn’t working, he could tell. They weren’t listening.  

He wanted to die.

They could have passed it off as jokes or mistakes before, but now… it was like they weren’t even trying. They weren’t trying to keep up their streak of good and kind. He didn’t matter here. Logic didn’t matter when talking about feelings, he was just getting in the way. He deserved it. He wasn’t helping.

The shiny yellow and black ‘SKIP ALL’ button increased his pulse, breathing, immediately turning him lightheaded. 

Please don’t silence me.

Logan barely had time to think before cold wood hooked around his neck, pulling hard, choking him. He fell on carpet, hitting his head, though luckily not that hard. The cane around his neck was thankfully released, and he pushed himself up in an approximation of a sitting position.

Janus stood in front of him, holding the cane.

“Why…” he touched the tender area on his neck, “the hell would you do that?”

“You rest here, I’m gonna go-”

“You asshole !”

Logan pushed himself up, presence big despite being shorter than Janus. 

“Do you know how long I’ve been trying to get their attention?!? Do you even care ?!? I’m just trying to help them, but they think I’m useless!”

He was half screaming, half crying. He was so tired and so done with everything they’d done. Kicking him out of the courtroom, forcing Thomas to suffer just because they didn’t want to listen to his facts, making him feel worthless-

You deserve those.

“Logan, I just want to help you. It’s not going to make you feel better staying there. You have to know that.”

“What? Because I’m stupid?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I meant. I can get through to them, I’ll convince him to take care of himself, I promise.”

“So you agree with them. You know my opinion doesn’t matter to them. And you’re gonna go, and they’re going to listen to you. Because they’re tired of me.”

Janus sighed. “It’s not your fault.”

There was a pause. Logan looked to the side, sighing as well. “You’re impersonating me?”

Janus nodded.

Logan sighed. “I don’t know how much good it’ll do, just… try to make sure Patton doesn’t mess up any more than he already has.”

There was far more that he wanted to say. He wanted to beg Janus to stay with him, to repeat the advice that he knew he needed to use, but Thomas needed it more than him. He was fairly sure it wasn’t going to work. If they hadn’t listened to Logan, they likely wouldn’t listen to Janus disguised as Logan. But it was worth a try. Maybe he had helped, at least a little.

Janus left as he rubbed the bruise on his neck. He should get ice for it.

“Logan?”

He turned to see Remus poking out from the hallway, taking a tentative step.

“Are you okay?”

Logan hesitated, unsure if he should tell the truth. He so desperately wanted Remus’s comfort, but the creative side would push for him to ask for help, and he’d feel Remus’s disappointment harder than hugs could help.

“I… I need to be alone.”

Well that surely wasn’t how he should’ve handled it.

He left, knowing Remus would be suspicious of his mental state, yet without the comfort he so desperately craved. It took all of his willpower not to start sobbing as he left, at least to make it to his room.

The sight he saw when he rose up made his heart plummet into his stomach.

Janus had done it.

He’d made them listen, done exactly what Logan had been trying to do the entire time.

But Janus was better.

Logan was useless, inconsequential, and stupid. He’d tried so long to be listened to, to be helpful, but maybe… it was just him that was the problem. He didn’t deserve the other sides’ attention, especially if he couldn’t get it. 

He felt tears prick at his eyes, holding back the sobs from his throat. He gave them something, hoping they would listen to a single fact, even if they’d kept telling him that his input was useless. Maybe slip in something else, desperate for their concern, despite knowing he wouldn’t take it. 

Patton tried to interrupt him, trying to ask if he was okay.

It was what he wanted, wasn’t it? But that sweet voice, full of worry, couldn’t mean anything right now. It didn’t matter when he couldn’t help but blame them, when he desperately wanted to silence them, force them to listen. If Patton was only able to start caring now, he didn’t want it.

He sunk out, as much as he could do from his text box, into his room. He sighed, sitting down, wanting to do nothing more than sleep. Tears began rolling down his face, a few sobs escaping his throat. He rubbed his neck, painfully reminded of the bruise.

An idea.

This desolate, miserable feeling could be easily cured, couldn’t it? They’d made it obvious that they didn’t want him around, so... 

Why should he stay?

He had promised Remus that he wouldn’t try again before asking for help. But today had only cemented the knowledge that they didn’t give a shit about him, so why the hell would they try to help?

It wouldn’t matter if he was gone.

Logan stood up to exit into the hallway. He needed to say goodbye to Remus. The walls felt cold and uninviting as he wandered through them, searching for Remus’s familiar voice.

He eventually found the creative side huddled under some blankets in his room, playing around with some sort of floating orb.

“Logan!” He lit up when he saw the logical side, jumping out of his bed to run up and hug him. “Are you... feeling better?”

Logan paused. “...A little.”

He held back the sob forming in his throat, burying his head in Remus’s neck, threading his fingers through Remus’s hair.

“You know I love you, right?”

Logan was sure his voice was noticeably wobbly. He held on as tightly as his arms would allow. This would be his last chance to do so.

“I love you too, Lo.”

Logan released his grip, turning to nearly run from Remus’s room. He wiped at the tears frantically, heading back towards his own room. He conjured rope on the way, testing its strength with his hands.

With a flick of his hand, he attached the rope to the ceiling, desperate to get this done fast. He was fully crying now; tears streamed down his face much faster than he could push them away. But he didn’t care at his point, tying the rope around his neck as he stood on his desk chair.

The abrasive surface tugged and prodded at the bruises as he moved.

He took a deep breath. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was terrified. He didn’t want to... die. He just wanted an exit.

He kicked the chair out from under him before he could think too much about it, the rope constricting around his neck. His tears dripped to the floor from his tightly shut eyes, but no more sounds came out. His hands weakly scratched at the rope, instincts desperately trying to keep him alive.

Before long, however, he felt warmth scratch around his neck and the rope. Something pushed him upwards, releasing a little bit of the tension on his neck. Something cold and sharp, and-

He was free.

He fell forwards into a pair of arms, head resting on a shoulder. He recognized the fabric as Remus’s elaborate costume. He stood there, nearly limp, before pulling his hands up to wrap around Remus. He tightened his arms, shoving his head into the fabric, sobs scratching at his throat. He didn’t dare say a thing, letting Remus rub soothing circles into his back, muttering reassurance that he desperately needed to hear.

~~

Logan felt a weight settle beside him on his bed. Remus had been with him all morning, promising him anything he needed. Logan had insisted he was fine being alone, but he wanted Remus there as Remus insisted on staying.

He felt fingers card through his hair, thankful for the affection.

“Are you feeling better? Don’t lie this time.”

Logan rolled over to face Remus, the creative side’s hand coming down to rest on his cheek instead. A small smile adorned Logan’s face.

“Yeah. Well, despite the fact that I never want to see Patton, Roman, or Janus’s face ever again.”

Remus laughed quietly, shifting so he could rest on his elbow. Logan closed his eyes as Remus continued to let his fingers wander absently around Logan’s face and hair.

“I’m sorry, Remus. I told you I wouldn’t try again. I should’ve talked to you, or talked to them, but instead I just... gave up.”

Remus put his arm around Logan’s waist, lying down properly so he was face-to-face with Logan.

“I’m just glad you’re here. You don’t have to apologize for anything.”

Logan said nothing, sinking into Remus’s blessed touch as his right hand replaced the left in his hair. It felt nice, very nice, to have a quiet moment like this, intimate and calm. Eventually the others would force him out, but he was going to do everything he could to grab moments like these. This was worth living for.

Remus was worth living for.

He felt Remus’s lips touch his forehead, his heart skipping a beat. Remus lingered, thumb paused on Logan’s cheek. He let himself fall away, pressing their foreheads together as his thumb sneaked down towards Logan’s lips.

Logan didn’t dare open his eyes, scared that he might ruin the moment with how he could guess Remus looked right now. He nodded, hoping that was enough confirmation for a kiss.

Remus kept it sweet and soft, lips just barely brushing past as he cupped Logan’s face with his full hand. Logan’s heart was beating quickly, focused in on the feeling.

Remus only lasted a moment after pulling back before bringing both hands to his cheeks, pressing back for a deeper kiss. Logan felt his mustache tickle on his upper lip, savoring the feeling before this would inevitably end.

It had been completely wordless, but words surely would have ruined it. Remus nuzzled into his neck, cuddling closer and bringing one arm around Logan. The other still lingered in his hair, warmth spreading across Logan’s cheeks. He knew Remus could feel his heartbeat, and if he were to open his eyes, see the bruises on his neck.

He let himself relax. Now wasn’t the time to be worried about yesterday. Now... he was with Remus. Not anybody that would ignore him, not with anybody that would pretend to care, not in any situation that made him want to kill himself, but with Remus. With Remus, he wasn’t scared of himself. With Remus, he was protected. 

With Remus, he was safe.

#gonna do a few of the requests soon so dont worry if i didnt do yours #intrulogical #logan sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #ts logan #ts remus #ts janus #logan angst #ts virgil #ts roman #ts patton #ts fic #ts sides #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #tw suicide attempt #tw blood #tw kissing #tw food #tw self hate #grays fics

[slashscowboyboots]

The Stars Are a Part of Us: Popcorn and Chamomile Tea (Part 6)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Tag list @izzysdenimjacket @warrendemachokeme @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands @smokeandmirrorz @sodalitefully @roger-taylors-car @lost-in-the-80s @whisperess33 @shawolat @80snikki @rumoured-whispers @i-wont-be-caged​

Warnings: Underage sex, drug use, drinking, implied violence.  18+ ONLY

Another woefully underrated band: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XGkF5OYGynE 

Their album “Fruit of Life” is sooo killer

Steven had been distraught over Absinthe’s departure, a beaten sadness replacing his normal sunny radiance, and although Karen had reassured him her friend was never far from the nest, he’d latched onto Izzy, sleeping in the seat next to him and seldom leaving his side during the never-ending bus ride towards Calgary.

Steven pounded a tattoo on the seat in front of him with his hands.  “You remember that girl that blew us outside of Gardner studio, Izz?”

“Yeah.”

“I came all over her face.”

Izzy chuckled.  “Yeah, you did.”

“She knew her way around a cock.  Or two.”  He laughed, then said, “I miss you, dude.”

“Stevie, I’m right here.”

“I know.  But I miss partying with you.”

“You know I can’t party anymore.”

“Yeah.  But you’re like a ghost now.  You’re just, like, always moving away.  You can still have fun, can’t you?  That’s not illegal?”

“Well, no.”

“I mean,” Steven whispered, “you’re not married to that Donna chick, right?  I saw you leave with her last night.”

“Karen.  And no, I’m not.”

“See, there you go.  We’ll get a chick and hang out with her and it’ll be just like old times.”

Izzy smiled, leaning over and ruffling Steven’s blonde hair.  “Sure, Popcorn, that’ll be fun.”

Izzy knew Steven hadn’t imbibed any coke on the bus trip, he’d never left his sight, but he was still bouncing off the walls of the hotel even before Izzy had unlocked their room.

“This is so cool, Izz, us hanging out.  I think Slash and Duff are mad at me anyway.  Axl always is.”

“Why are Slash and Duff mad at you?”

Steven giggled.  “My chick was really loud.   Total screamer.  She’d go all night too, she was like a fucking beast.  Do you know why she left?   Did that Donna girl tell you?”

Izzy sighed, not wanting to tell Steven Absinthe chased greener pastures, where the hotels always had hot water and nobody ate off a cold cut platter backstage.  “Uh, she said Absinthe knew one of the girls traveling with The Cult and she wanted to hang out with her.  She’ll come back.”

“I hope so, she was fucking amazing.  Hey, Izz, you think there’s hookers in the phone book?”

“I don’t know, buddy.  I’m going to take a shower.  I realized today how fucking rank Duff smells and thought it was me at first.”

“Yeah, he promised Mandy he wouldn’t change his leather pants the entire tour.  And it smells like he’s keeping his word.” 

In the bathroom, Izzy stripped his own black leather pants off and pulled the lining out, then filled the sink up with water and a little soap.  Duff had taken his breath when he sat across from him at breakfast, and Izzy’d tucked his McMuffin in his coat to eat on the bus, away from the stench.  He shook the excess water out of the fabric, then laid his pants on the toilet and stepped into the shower.

The water pressure was laughable at best, but he even scrubbed and rinsed his hair.  Living in the Gardner place without running water had gotten him used to going without bathing for a week or more, but since he’d gotten sober, normal things like showering were becoming more of a priority, and Fran had announced at their first meeting that she considered cleanliness above godliness.  

“Not bathing is a sign of depression, Izzy, and if you’re depressed I’ll have the court psychiatrist assigned to you.  But your funky ass is not going to stink up my office, now or ever.”

He’d found a doctor’s office near the hotel, and he planned on visiting it first thing in the morning to get his first international piss test out of the way.  Dammit, he realized, he really did want to make Fran proud.  And he’d been able to turn down drugs, even after he’d had his dick sucked by a groupie.  This tour was going to be a piece of cake.

Izzy toweled off the mirror and shaved, then dug through his bag and found some clean clothes.  He hung his wet pants over the shower rod, then zipped his boots back on.  He could hear noise coming from the room and figured Steven had switched on the television, then he turned the door handle to find Steven naked and plowing into a dark-headed chick from behind on his bed, her huge tits bouncing as she moaned and cried, and a shapely blonde wearing a spandex minidress sitting on Izzy's bed.  She crooked a finger at him, and he huffed a quiet laugh as he sat down in front of her.

Steven crowed, “They were in the phone book!  I got one for each of us, dude!”

“Thanks, man,” Izzy muttered, watching as the blonde peeled down the top of her dress, setting two very perky and unnaturally round tits free.  

“Like what you see, honey?” she purred.

Izzy nodded, fleetingly wondering how they were going to pay for all this, then lost his train of thought as she pulled her dress over her head and reached for him.

He leaned forward and kissed one breast, then she pushed him back and reached for her bag on the nightstand.  “I’m going to blow your mind,” she cooed, and he closed his eyes and gasped as she worked his crotch with one hand, then she used the other to open a vial of cocaine and smear it on her other breast.  She grabbed the back of Izzy’s head, slamming his face in the coke and rubbing his nose in it.  With everything he had, he jerked out of her grasp with a bellow and leapt to the bathroom, holding his breath and frantically washing off every trace of powder he could see, scrubbing frantically until his face was red and his nostrils felt raw.  

He grabbed his bag and flew down the hall, racing down the stairs, and when he reached room 317, he pounded on the door.

“Karen, open up,” he demanded.

He heard the lock turn, then she opened the door.  “Izzy, what’s wrong?”

He pushed past her and shot into the bathroom, peering at himself in the mirror, then blowing his nose on a handful of toilet paper. 

She stood in the doorway, her hair wet, clad in an oversized jersey and short shorts with her hands on her hips and asked, “What the hell is going on?”

“A hooker shoved my face in some blow.  And I have to take a piss test tomorrow.”

“Oh, Izzy,” she said quietly.  “Here, here, sit,” putting down the lid on the toilet.

He sat down and she took his face in her hands, tilting it this way toward the overhead light, then that.  “I think you got it all.”

“Could you-maybe?” he blurted, and she nodded, running a washcloth under the faucet and gently wiping his nose, then his chin, and cheeks.  She stroked his forehead and eyebrows with it, and when she wiped under his chin and onto his neck, he began to relax.  

“Do you want to take a shower?” she asked gently, and he shook his head.  The skittery, jumping feeling he had inside was still there, but now he felt too exhausted to stand, and he was suddenly overcome by a desire to lay his head against her breasts and wrap his arms around her waist.

“Did you get your hands too?” she asked, then pulled them up in hers and rubbed the washrag against them.  Izzy watched her as she worked, carefully going over his fingertips, and her eyes met his and held them, her chest rising and falling.  

She was so close to him he could feel her body heat rising from her, and he smelled her comforting scent on his hands and in the still-humid bathroom.  He began to feel lightheaded and heavy at the same time, his wide eyes never leaving hers, his breathing becoming shallower as his neck grew hot, then she stepped back and softly said, “I-I think you’re good.”

She came back and ran water into a small pot, then went back into the other room.  “Um, I’m going to make you some tea,” she called, and he came out, smiling as he watched her fiddle with a mini Mr. Coffee machine.  “It’ll-it’ll calm your nerves.”

He sat down in a chair and smiled up at her.  “You travel with that?”

“Of course.  I can’t live without tea.”

“What kind settles my nerves?”

“Chamomile.  It probably wouldn’t hurt to pound liquids tonight, so you flush out your system.  I’m even not going to ask how this happened.”

“Steven’s been lonely since Absinthe left him, and he let his fingers do the walking.”

“Yeah, I heard him say he missed you.”

“You were eavesdropping.”

“Was not.  That bus is only so big.  Speaking of which, who’s going to tell Duff he smells like the ass end of a dead yak?”

“Not me.  This is some kind of engagement promise he made to not change his pants.”

“Hoss, y’all don’t want me to intervene.  I’ll strip him when he���s passed out drunk and he’ll be naked all the way to Saskatoon.”  She poured him a mug.  “Take sugar?”

“No.  You make it sweet with your love.”

“Oh, shit.  You can shove that right up your ass.”

He took a sip, then asked, “Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“Stevie Nicks can’t put coke up her nose, so she puts it in her ass.”

Her face turned white, then she grabbed the mug out of his hands.  “Get out,” she gritted.

“What-?”

“I SAID GET OUT!” she shouted.

“The fuck did I do?”

Karen was near tears.  “Izzy, GET OUT!”

“I don’t have anywhere to fucking go!” he yelled.

She grabbed her giant bag, throwing it over her shoulder, screaming, “Fine!  If you won’t leave, I will!” and slammed the door.

#izzy stradlin x ofc #izzy stradlin fanfiction #guns n roses x ofc #guns n roses fanfic

[mldrgrl]

I've been re-reading your old works for the Revival like Recocering Nicely and Flannel Pajamas,....I miss them being an old married couple doing domestic stuffs so much, can you write something like that again?

Friday Night by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Note: Set during season 10, erasing any season 11 from the table

Fridays are full of anticipation nowadays.  At first, when they were just starting to get back on track, more often than not he was going home alone.  But, now, he can’t remember the last time Friday rolled around and she didn’t have her weekend bag with her.  There’s nothing he looks forward to more than a Friday night.

They take one car out to the house, usually his, leaving the other in the parking garage at work until Monday.  The ride is long, but comfortable.  Scully rests her hand on his arm across the seat and they talk about mundane things that aren’t about work.  Mulder wants to cut the grass if there isn’t any frost in the morning.  He loaded the crock pot with the stuff for that stew Scully likes this morning.  Hopefully he remembered to turn it on before he left.  That new thing Scully found online to weatherproof the windows came in.  He needs to put in the order for the wood for the stove to be delivered soon.

“An hour and change,” Mulder says, stopping the car in front of their gate.  “New record.”

“You really need to think about installing the remote.”

“I like the exercise.”  He leans close to her as he unbuckles his seatbelt and gives her a peck on the cheek.  She cups his chin with a backwards hand for a moment and then unbuckles her own belt.

Scully takes over in the driver’s seat as Mulder handles the gate.  She drives down the dirt road slowly, avoiding the dips and bumps up to the front.  She’s got her overnight bag from the trunk and Mulder’s dry cleaning that they stopped to pick up weighing her down by the time he’s made it to the car.  He takes the dry cleaning from her and places a hand to the small of her back as they ascend the porch steps.

“My nose is telling me I didn’t forget to turn the crock pot on,” he says, opening the door for her.

“Gonna change first.  Looks like we’re in for a beautiful sunset.  Want to eat outside?”

“Sure.”

He puts the dry cleaning away while she puts on a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved shirt.  He turns on the radio.  It’s still on the classical channel Scully last had it on and he leaves it be, coming into what sounds like The Planets Suite.  He thinks he recognizes Jupiter.  He thinks about setting up the telescope.

While Scully dishes out the stew, he changes into jeans and a light sweater.  Noticing a bit of a chill, he brings one of the blankets from the couch with him after he grabs the bowl left for him on the counter to join her.  She tucks it around her and they eat to the strains of Holst in the background as twilight begins its takeover.

They head back inside when it turns grey and too chilly.  Scully separates the leftover stew into two containers, one to store for leftovers for the weekend and the other to freeze for later.  She washes the dishes and Mulder dries.  

“Did you bring the paper in?” he asks.

“In my bag,” she answers.

“We need under 36 minutes to beat last week.”

“36 minutes and 14 seconds.”

“Across or down?”

“Down.”

They huddle close on the couch and Mulder opens the newspaper to the crossword.  He folds it appropriately while Scully starts the timer on her phone.  Mulder starts with the clues running across and Scully starts with the clues running down.  They have a goal of beating each week’s previous time.

“Oh, they’re being cheeky,” Mulder says.  “They’ve got the question marks in here.”

“You like the cheeky ones.”

“When they’re clever.”

After ten minutes, they switch directions.  

“Life source?” Scully asks.  “Is that the cheeky one?”

“You get the answer?”

“M-I-blank-blank-blank-N-blank-R-A-”

“Milton Bradley,” he answers, before she finishes.

“Clever or not?” she asks, filling in the blanks.

“They’ve done better.  Hey, you’re supposed to fill-in all the Latin clues.”

“Mulder, do you know how many 3-letter Latin 101 words there are?”

“How many end in O?”

“Too many.”

“I think it starts with an E.”

“Ego.”

“I should’ve known that.”

“I’ll say.”

He bumps her shoulder with his and she chuckles.  They switch for a second time a few minutes later and then they’re racing against the clock.  He puts down his pen when there’s nothing but a corner left.

“You always leave the Tolkein monsters clue blank,” Scully huffs.

“I didn’t have 5 down yet, it still could be orcs or ents.”

“Ents.  5 down is Etsy.”

“What the hell is an etsy?”

“Online craft store.  You know it, it’s where I got those bath bombs you liked.”

“The eucalyptus ones?  You should get more of those.”

“I’ll see if they still have them.  Time!”

“33 and 51 seconds.  High five g-woman!”  He grabs her hand when she slaps his and laces their fingers together.  “Seriously, though, you need to go to the etsy store and get more of those bath bombs.”

“Remind me tomorrow.”

“Movie?”

“I’m thinking a shower and then bed.”  She moves to stand, but he pulls her down to his lap.  She chuckles and drapes her arms around his neck.  

“Scully, do you remember back in the day when we used to pull all-nighters like it was nothing and now we’re lucky if we make it past nine?”

“Seems we used up all our reserve energy when we were young.”

“Younger, don’t go calling us old.”

“You brought it up first.”  She gives him a brief kiss on the lips and then he lets her go.

While she showers, he takes the newspaper to the recycle bin and sets up the coffee maker for the morning.  He checks the locks on the front door and the back door and pulls the shades in the living room and kitchen.  He pulls his sweater off as he heads upstairs and tosses it on the bed before he goes into the bathroom.  Scully has finished her shower and sits on the closed toilet in a towel, massaging lotion into her legs.  The room is humid from the shower and the mirror is fogged over.

“I set the coffee for 7,” he says, pulling his toothbrush and toothpaste from the medicine cabinet. “Too early?”

“It’s fine.”   She makes a noise and he turns.  She has her hands held out to him and he puts the toothbrush and toothpaste on the side of the sink and gives her his hands so she can massage the extra lotion into his hands and arms.

“Is this new?  It smells like oranges.”

“Yeah, some vitamin C thing a salesperson at the mall talked me into.”

“You hate the mall.”  He pastes his toothbrush and starts brushing his teeth.

“I do, but sometimes the Labor Day sales are too hard to resist.  2 for 1 bras at Victoria’s Secret, I had to go.”

“What, now?”  Mulder turns towards her and pulls the toothbrush out of his mouth.  Foam coats his lips.  She laughs lightly and shakes her head.

“Kidding,” she says.  “But, good to know you’re still interested in my lingerie.”

“I might be old, but I’m not dead.”

Scully smiles and stands on tiptoes to kiss the corner of Mulder’s mouth.  She pats his chest lightly and then rubs a bit of toothpaste residue from her bottom lip.  He turns to finish brushing his teeth, wiping fog away from the mirror to watch her move comfortably around the room and get ready for bed.  He waits until she’s dropped the towel and slipped her t-shirt on to spit and rinse.

She tosses his shirt at his head when he steps into the bedroom.  He grins and hangs it up and then they turn the bed down together.  He sheds his jeans and then opens the window just a crack to let some fresh air in.

“Almost time to pull out the flannel sheets,” she says, as he gets into bed.

“I’ll keep you warm,” he answers, wrapping an arm around her under the covers and sliding her into his chest.  She laughs and wiggles out of his hold as he tickles the back of her neck and shoulder with his lips.

Briefly, Scully turns her head back and after several soft kisses, she pulls away to turn over and shut off the lamp.  Mulder rolls onto his back and she settles on her side after punching the pillow flat a few times.  Five minutes pass and then she sighs.

“Are you still awake?” she asks.

“Mmhm,” he answers.

She turns over to face him and he turns his head towards her.  “I’ve been thinking about something,” she says.  “Something I think we need to talk about.”

“Okay.”  He turns over as well and folds his arm under his head.

“The lease on my place is up at the end of October.  I don’t think I’m going to renew.”

“Oh?  So, what are you thinking?”

“The commute out here is not ideal.  Especially with winter coming.  I was wondering if you might want to find a place in the city.  Or closer to the city.  Together.”

“Get rid of the house?”

“No, never.  This is...this is our home.”

He nods in agreement.  He’s always thought of it as their home, whether she’s been in it or not.

“I was thinking just a place we can be at during the week,” she continues.  “And we’ll still come out here on the weekends.”

He mulls it over.  As much as he wants to be with her and wants to return to the life they once shared, he has some reservations.

“Mulder?” she asks.  “You’re never this quiet.  What are you thinking?”

“You know I want this more than anything,” he answers.  “But, what if this is only working because you got the space you wanted?  And we’ve never done the living and working together thing before.  It would be new.  What if we recommit and then it becomes too much?”

She contemplates the ceiling for some time and he reaches out to stroke her hair and cup her cheek.

“I thought, at the time, that leaving was the right thing to do,” she says.  “I know that I accused you of being a weight that was pulling me down into your depression and despair, but in hindsight, it was the other way around.”

“I never felt that way.”

“I know, but I did.  I thought returning to medicine would be satisfying.  I thought it was the key to happiness.  Something normal.  Instead it just made me sad.  And then I thought leaving was the only way to fix it, but I was wrong.  Really, what I missed was us.  Being with you, working with you, just you and me.  I don’t feel whole without you.”

“Hey now, that’s my line,” he whispers, running his thumb over her cheek.

“It’s true.”

“So, we’re doing this?  Full time?”

“I’m ready for it if you are.”

“Bring it on, honey.”

She chuckles and they slide closer to rest their heads together.  Their legs tangle and arms move to hold on to each other.  He’s filled with a new sense of anticipation.  He won’t ever have to wonder anymore if she’ll be coming with him Friday nights.

The End

#i wrote this #xf fanfic #msr #housetrained #old married couple #Anonymous

[bills-pokedex]

This isn't an ask, just checking up on you to make sure you're taking care of yourself. Lanette worries a lot about you.

I know, anonymous, and it’s very sweet. At the risk of sharing a bit too much personal information, I just hope that I’m reciprocating well enough.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I understand fully that there’s no wrong way to reciprocate, and anyway, relationships of all sorts are different for every circumstance and for every person. But the point is...

Well. I suppose the point is I worry about her too.

Anyway, to answer your question, I am indeed taking care of myself. In fact, that folds into why you haven’t quite heard a lot from me lately, other than the difficulty in typing one-handed for about half of last month. It’s not that I’m busy. In fact, if anything, I’ve started incorporating breaks into my schedule, which apparently has been quite a shock to the Institute. They’ve sent me emails to make sure I’m still alive and human, simply because I’m neither fifteen days ahead of schedule on my current projects nor working fifteen hours a day for six days a week. It’s odd, really—just realizing how much time you’ve spent at work when you have someone urging you to take tea and eat a proper meal and even sleep every day.

In short, yes, I’m fine. But thank you for checking on me, of course.

[Lanette can smell something burning.

It’s not wires. It’s not electricity. It’s not even wood, which sometimes happens when Bill’s playing with dragonfire again. No, it’s something else. Something ... familiar.

She pokes her head out of her room. Or, well, it’s not really her room as much as it is their room; since they made things serious, she’s been living at the Sea Cottage and sharing a bed with her partner. But that’s not important because it’s nine in the morning, Bill let her oversleep, and something is burning in the Sea Cottage.

And then the fire alarm goes off. Lanette rushes to the kitchen where she knows Bill’s kept the only fire alarm in the entire damned building outside of the lab, but she doesn’t have time to do anything because Foxglove is already on it, hovering right beside the alarm while frantically waving a tea towel in its general direction. Bill, meanwhile, is in front of the stove, covering one of the burners with a lid while staring fervently at Foxglove—probably issuing silent commands that the kadabra is frantically obeying.

“Um.”

And just like that, the tension between the trainer and his pokémon is broken, giving way to a wild look from Bill. He’s a growlithe caught in the act of setting the curtains ablaze, and he knows this is not proper behavior.

“Lanette!” he cries. Then, clearing his throat, he forces a smile. “Ah ... good morning?”

“Good morning to you,” she says. “There’s a fan above the stove. Reach up and press the button.”

Bill looks up at the console on the hood above him. “Oh. Of course.”

He follows her instructions, and the roar of the vent fan swallows the beeping of the fire alarm. Lanette puts her hands into the pockets of her linen pajama pants, then looks up at Foxglove.

“Twist it open, then remove the batteries,” she says.

Foxglove jumps to it, as if he was actually waiting for that instruction. And he probably was. Lanette doesn’t say anything to this, instead walking past him to Bill’s side. By the time she reaches the stove, the fire alarm is finally off. There was smoke, but there’s no fire—or at least, there shouldn’t be one, now that Bill’s suffocated the absolute crap out of it. She peers down at the stove to see a half-empty sauce pot full of scalded ... milk? She inhales and catches the scent.

Ah. Not cow milk. Coconut milk. And chocolate, it looks like. What’s left in the pan has separated into a slurry of curds, clumped-up cocoa powder, and thin water. Some of the concoction has dribbled down the side of the pan, and this tells her everything she needs to know, even before she gently nudges Bill’s hands off the pot lid and sees the burned remnants of hot chocolate forming a half-ring around the glass-top burner.

“I’d only taken my eyes off of it for a second!” Bill exclaimed, his words rushing into each other.

She gives him a reassuring but sympathetic smile but takes the handle of the pot and gives it a swirl. Badly curdled. Looks like it’s beyond repair, not that this would help the fact that half of it is all over the stovetop.

“It happens to the best of us,” she says. “Milk curdles and boils over, no matter what kind you use. Some do it faster than others.”

She takes the pot to the sink and empties it, then rinses it out and returns it to the stove—the other front burner this time.

“Wanna try again?” she asks.

Bill snaps out of his daze. He’d been looking at the burner while Lanette was working, as if debating something in his head. And noticing this expression, Lanette slides the lid back over the ring.

“You’ll ... want to let it cool for a bit,” she says. “Anyway, grab more coconut milk.”

He does so, and he’s back at her side in less than a second, silently nudging her out of the way of the pot as he fiddles with the cans.

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” he says. First can pops open, and in it goes.

“I probably should be up anyway,” she says. “It’s never good to sleep until noon.”

He doesn’t say anything to this. Instead, he reaches for the mess on the counter next to the stove and measures out cocoa powder. All the while, he continues as if she hadn’t said anything. “Honestly, I was hoping this would be a surprise. You’d just walked in on, well, part one.”

“Part one?”

“Yes. Cocoa. I’ve seen you make it, so I thought I could. The rest, however...”

She winces a little and gives him an uncertain look. “What was the rest?”

Bill clears his throat again, then mumbles something Lanette is almost certain is “French toast,” but she can’t be too certain.

“You had no idea how to make it, did you?” she asks.

“I have a recipe.”

“A recipe?”

A pause.

“No,” Bill admits. “I do not know how to make French toast.”

Lanette’s uncertain look cracks into one of gentle sympathy. She clears off the pot lid and starts cleaning up the burner next to her partner. She’ll need it, she realizes.

“I appreciate the effort,” she says slowly, “but I have to ask...”

“Yes?” Bill’s watching the pot like a pidgeot this time. Steady. Unwavering. Dedicated to seeing this through, one way or another.

“Why?” Lanette asks.

Bill smiles sheepishly, though he doesn’t take his eyes off the pot. “It’s ... ah. Well. Today is special, so I thought—”

“Special?”

“It’s-it’s Valentine’s Day,” Bill replies bluntly.

“Ah.”

Lanette retrieves a pot from a cabinet, followed by a bowl. There’s a small collection of items—packaged bread, eggs, coconut milk, cinnamon, sugar, vanilla—that’s materialized on a blank spot of the cabinet; Foxglove curls up in the corner after what he believes to be a job well done. Lanette mentally thanks him, then cracks an egg into the bowl.

“Don’t Johtonian men usually treat their significant others on White Day?” she asks.

“‘Men’ is a complicated word,” Bill replies.

She nearly points out that he’s dodging the question, but she doesn’t. She just snorts and finishes cracking eggs.

“But, ah. The truth is...” Bill punctuates his half-thought by stirring the hot cocoa.

“Yes?”

“I wanted to thank you.”

Lanette mixes the toast batter in silence. She doesn’t mean to go quiet. It just sort of ... happens. Mostly because she’s confused. But she also knows that whatever he’s trying to say, it’s hard for him.

Because, well. Bill’s like that. He’s always been like that. He’s so good about addressing the whole concept of emotions and about paying attention to other people’s, but when it comes time for him to talk about his own? He just sort of ... clams up.

Lanette knows why, of course. She’s the only person who knows why, she’s pretty sure. Bill doesn’t trust easily—not generally speaking, and certainly not when it comes to this. It’ll take work for him to untangle that mess, and ... well, she can’t quite say she’s helping him work on that so much as realizing there’s a mess at all. But ... even small progress is progress.

“For what?” she asks. Quietly, of course. She doesn’t want to scare him off.

“For—” Bill stops. Catches himself. Tries again. “Well, for everything.”

Lanette gives him another reassuring smile and nods to the pot. “It’s probably done.”

Oil in the pan. Heat. First slice on. It’ll take time, like all things. Luckily, not as much time as fixing whatever’s going on with Bill, but still. He pours the cocoa and goes to set the mugs on the table, and it’s here that Lanette notices most of the pokémon have been cleared out.

“Did you recall everyone?” she asks.

“Of course I did,” he replies. “Do you have any idea what Primrose would do if she got her hands on this stuff?”

Lanette does, and it wouldn’t be a pretty sight. But still...

“Lanette?”

She freezes. There’s something to his voice.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to say,” he says.

She tenses again. She flicks through everything she knows about Bill. See, he’s really about patterns, if you just look hard enough. As chaotic as he might be in the lab, if you’ve been with him long enough, you can sort of predict what he’ll say next because all of his idiosyncrasies follow this rhythm—one that Lanette has spent a good portion of her life studying and understanding.

So she knows where this is heading.

“Bill,” she says. “If you’re about to ask me if I’m happy here, the answer is I am. I know I have a lab in Hoenn. We’ll figure out what to do with that soon.” She hears him breathe in and cuts him off again. “And I know it’s been weeks since you’ve gotten your cast off and since we came back from Crown Tundra, so now’s a good time, but ... I don’t know. There’s a lot to do to sort things out there—and I know you’ll be okay with helping, not to mention you might have to in order to help me figure out how to run Hoenn’s system remotely, but—”

“Lanette.”

“The point is that yes, I’m serious when I say I want to be here, okay? I’m serious when I say I want to stay here, not because I’m worried about whether or not those flygon genes will mess you up because apparently they won’t, but instead bec—”

“Lanette.”

“Bill, I’m trying to—”

She suddenly realizes he’s directly behind her, and she realizes this because a tail winds around her waist, and wings fold over her. He’s mostly human, but apparently, he felt he needed this many limbs to ease what she now realizes was ... probably a little more insistent and frantic than she’d intended. Where did that even come from? She relaxes in his arms.

“I know,” he says. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

Lanette runs through all the possibilities. Which one did she overlook? “Then ... what did you want to talk about?” She pauses. “You’re not about to propose, are you?”

“What? No.”

He rests his head on her shoulder. “I ... I love you. That’s what this is about.”

Lanette pauses. Bill admitting his feelings? Not mincing words? Not framing it as “I care deeply about you”? This. This is new.

“I love you too,” she replies. She doesn’t know what else to say. She leans against him and closes her eyes, and they stand there for a moment until Bill lifts his head.

“Is it supposed to be that dark?” he asks.

Lanette snaps her eyes and looks down at the pan and immediately reaches for the pot lid.

“Um,” she squeaks. “No. No, it’s not.”]

#asks #powerverse #about the author #about the editor #{Happy Valentine's Day everyone!} #Anonymous

[thetriggeredhappy]

I love?? Sniper's mom?? Familial stuff just kills me in the best way. Could you do something with Spy and Scout from before Spy had left his family 👉👈 ?

im gonna just hope that you’re familiar enough with the Running Blind canon that you have any fuckin idea who the brothers are because they make a pretty steady amount of appearance in this. i call spy by my head canon for his first name (Marcel) since he wouldn’t be called spy until he joined the team, and uhhh one or two other details in this are slightly off-base for the RB canon but like don’t worry about it i don't think it’ll come up

(no warnings)

-

“Ma chou-fleur,” he greeted, sweeping her in with one arm and planting a kiss on her cheek.

“Marcel!” Ma chided, smacking him on the arm with a dish towel, practically jumping out of her skin. “You scared me! When did you get home?!”

“A few minutes ago,” he replied, smirking, sidestepping to give her access to the dishes she was cleaning off. “I see I missed breakfast.”

“Pot’s on the stove,” she said, ticking her head in the direction of said pot, which at a glance seemed to be full of oatmeal. “Oh, could you—?”

He was already on it, moving to lift the baby from the high chair to carry him against his hip. “Mon lapin, look at you, you’re old enough now that you don’t make such a mess,” he joked, picking up a napkin from the table and wiping off the corner of his mouth before moving to set him down by the couch where he had apparently been playing with blocks at some point. He immediately set to trying to climb the couch as best as his little legs could handle.

“Oh, did I tell you?” Ma asked over the sound of running water and an argument happening elsewhere in the apartment. “Jeremy’s walking now!”

“Already?” he asked, looking down at him with surprise. “He was trying last I saw, not making it very far.”

“Tony’s been helping him,” she laughed, washing off and setting aside the last dish and starting to work on the glasses.

“Ma, where’s my backpack?” called Jack, pulling on his jacket by the door and casting around.

“Ask your dad,” she called back, gesturing with her dish towel for emphasis.

“Not my dad,” Jack mumbled, brushing past him to kick around the couch.

“I know,” Marcel said, a little defensive. He glanced around. “Under the table.”

Jack didn’t say thanks, just picking up the backpack and moving out the door.

“Don’t forget your brother!” Ma called before he could shut it.

“Hurry up!” Jack called into the apartment, and Henry darted through the door after him a second later, one shoe only half-on, his hair a mess. Henry hardly had time to call a goodbye to them before the door shut heavily behind them.

Marcel sighed, and Ma gave him a sympathetic glance. The moment was cut short a little bit as another of the boys came into the living room and spotted him.

“Dad, when did you get home—?” Archie started asking, eyes lighting up.

“Je ne parles pas anglais,” Marcel said, raising an eyebrow at him.

Archie frowned, thought hard. “Uh. Quand... es, tu... rentré... à le mansion, papa?” he asked slowly.

“La maison,” he corrected lightly.

“La maison,” Archie repeated back.

“Bien!” he praised, smiling wide. “And only a few minutes ago.” He paused. “Are you going to come hug me or not? Make up your mind.”

Archie darted over to hug him tightly around the middle, and he returned it as best he could with the height difference.

“Why are you home early?” Ma asked, towelling off her hands, the last of the dishes rinsed.

“Business went very smoothly, I was able to book a flight for early this morning rather than late tonight,” he replied, and the glance between the two of them was enough to fill in the rest of the blanks. “The boys are all doing good?”

“Twins caught a cold,” Ma replied, wincing a little.

“Oh no!” he exclaimed, expression falling.

“Means I cancelled the babysitter and called for a day off,” she continued.

“Oh no?” he said next, raising an eyebrow at her and smiling a little.

“Don’t be gross,” Archie mumbled from his midsection.

“There is absolutely nothing gross about my being in love with my wife and enjoying spending time with her and my family,” Marcel said lightly, patting him on the head.

Archie grumbled about that, and he laughed. Ma shook her head and the both of them.

“Ah, but I nearly forgot!” Marcel said, and glanced off. “Collin!”

A pause. “What?” Collin called back hesitantly from the boys’ collective room.

“Get out here,” he called next, rolling his eyes a little.

A very considerable pause before Collin peeked out the door and looked at him. “Yeah?” he asked, expression already guilty. Archie pointedly went to go pay attention to the baby, helping him stack some blocks.

“Mon poulet, you would not happen to know what happened to my cufflinks, would you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Collin didn’t maintain eye contact. “...No,” he tried.

“Oh. Well, perhaps you can go look for them wherever it was that you happened to “find” them last time they went missing,” he asked even more pointedly. “Maybe they ended up there again somehow.”

Collin nodded and disappeared again quickly.

“You know he keeps taking them because he misses you,” Ma said, voice hushed.

“Ma petite chou-chou, he keeps taking the one thing I only have one set of,” he replied. “If he stole ties like you do, it would be less of a problem.”

“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” she said flatly, and that got him to smile at least.

The sound of blocks falling. “Uh,” Archie said. “Oops.”

A pause of a second or two before Jeremy started crying.

Marcel was there in a moment, scooping him up to hold him. “Oh no!” he exclaimed, just as dramatic, tone full of just as much dismay as the crying baby, pressing comforting kisses to the side of his head. “Catastrophe! Calatime! Mon dieu, how could this happen?!”

Jeremy seemed distressed, holding his hand up close to his face protectively. There was a tiny knick where a block had fallen on the back of his tiny hand.

“Crushed by debris, horrible injury,” Marcel tutted, and pressed a few kisses to the injury in question. “Mon lapin, we have no choice but to amputate. Hopefully you will do well being left-handed.”

Jeremy seemed to be calming down quickly as he both realized that maybe he was actually okay and also that his dad agreed that the situation seemed kind of scary for a minute.

“Unless it seems alright? Perhaps you were really okay?” he asked pointedly, raising his eyebrows. “Maybe the world is not ending? The arm can be saved?”

Jeremy started to suck on his thumb, reached with his other hand to grab hold of his jacket.

“Ah, you’re just an actor,” Marcel teased, beeped his nose, shook his head when he giggled in response.

“Archie, sweetheart, could you help me out and dry the dishes while I check on your brothers?” Ma asked, two wet towels in hand as she moved towards the boys’ room.

“Okay,” Archie agreed, and Marcel continued to hold the baby for a few seconds before deciding to go say hello to the rest of the boys, putting him back down to play with his blocks.

The baby was not having any of it, making little noises of distress and not letting go of his jacket. “Mon lapin, yes, I love you too, but I do not want to take you in to see your brothers and get sick,” he chided. “You should stay out here.”

The baby made further distressed noises.

“How about I bring your brother to see you, he can teach you to walk some more, oui?” he tried. “Would you like to play with Tony?”

He seemed to be thinking very hard about that concept, but did not let go of his jacket.

“Okay,” he sighed, straightening up, still holding the baby. “Okay. We can both go. You’ve convinced me.”

“Losing an argument with a baby, I see,” Archie deadpanned from the sink.

“I want you to know that the amount of cheesy and romantic I can be with your mother is a sliding scale that only goes up,” Marcel drawled.

“Nevermind,” Archie said.

“That’s what I thought.”

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #dad!spy #my fanfiction #shut up me #everybody talks #it would be really sad if spy was just some dude who none of the brothers even knewor liked that well. yknow what would be even more sad? #if he was an important part of their family that the vast majority of the brothers legitimately loved and valued and cared about #wouldn't that be fucked up #rb #running blind