#the trees out back leaves those sticky things all over the porch and makes the porch sticky

[prettyblondguys]

HUZZAH!!!!! Just saved a skeeter eater

#the trees out back leaves those sticky things all over the porch and makes the porch sticky #I'm walking inside when I see the little fella stuck to the porch #Trying desperately to fly off #There's some ants that have taken notice and as you can imagine that would be a bad end for the lil bud #So I try to see where's stuck on him #It's his lil back and one leg #I'm honestly surprised the leg was still attached bc they lose those vvvvvv easily #So I very very gently help it get it's back unstuck and then it chills on my finger while I do the leg #The second the leg is unstuck it takes off and flies away :) #Yay lil guy ily

[redheadspark]

Hi hi! I love your writing!! For the December prompts can I do Druig with 8 & 13 ?

A/N - I love this for Druig! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Brave

Summary - Druig thinks of himself as a coward. His wife thinks otherwise

Warnings - angst with fluff at the end

Amazon

1600’s

The otherwise of the bed was cold, which made you worry as you woke up from your slumber.

Usually, you would have a warm body next to you, more than warm since he would run hot when he would sleep out there in your little shack.  It didn’t help when it was humid, even in the winter season the air would be sticky in the dead of night.  But his side of the bed was in fact cold, you could only feel the bunched sheets.

He was also a clinger when he slept, always wanting you within arms ready with either tangled legs or his arms around your waist.  You never minded it, not really since you two were an item for the last 600 years or so, long before you both came to the Amazon 50 years ago.  Leaving your Eternal family and only having each other to lean on for support.  Although you missed them all and their company after being together for centuries on Earth, you would never trade your choice in walking away with Druig.  

You two were building a life together.

You blinked slowly to rub your eyes, seeing the otherwise of your bed empty and abandoned.  It wasn’t like Druig to leave your bed in the middle of the night unless he would wake to tell you.  But your heard the front door crack, making you look and see that it was opened slightly and the moonlight was shining in.  The cooler breeze was filling in the room, along with the softer sounds of the nocturnal animals echoing from the high trees.  You slipped out of bed, threw on your robe that was a gift to you from one of the elders in the tiny village, and tip-toed along the wooden floor.

Poking your head out of the cracked open door, you saw the very person you were looking over, leaning against the pillar of the shack and looking up at the moon with a haunted look on his face.  You quickly grabbed his blue robe that was hanging up on a singular nail on the wall, sliding out onto the porch where he was to silently sit next to him. 

“Put this on before you catch a cold,” You hummed to him, placing the robe along his shoulders to watch him carefully slip his arms through.  You grinned slightly, though you leaned your shoulder against his.  Passing a kiss on his shoulder, you spoke again, “What’s on your mind, honey,”

He said nothing for a moment or two, you knowing well to not press him when he was in deep thought.  Druig was never one to hide things from you that haunted his mind, he was very open with you and never wished to withdraw anything from you.  But you could see it in his eyes and how he seemed….lost.

“Did I make the right choice?” 

You looked at him with a hot of worry as he asked that, his voice sounding a bit raw and uneasy as his eyes were still trained on the moon.  You rubbed his arm with your fingers, feeling him lean back against you a bit more. This was the last thing you thought he would ask, since up until this point he was more than fine with being out in the village.  

“What do you mean?” You asked him gently.

“Coming out here, leaving the family,” he replied, you hearing him call the others “family” for the first time.  You knew he admired them and never wished any ill wishes towards them.  He would be aloof with them of course, but nothing negative.  He missed them every once in a while when you two went off on your own, joking around with Kingo or talking about her inventions with Phastos.  Even with Ajak, the leader who would always have to answer to Arishem, Druig missed her pearls of wisdom and warmth.  

“You did what you had to do,” you reminded him with a calm tone, “That was the worst night of your life, Druig.  You had to watch what happened to those humans and you made a new path because of it—“

“Because I couldn’t simply stop them,” Druig muttered.

“Druig..” You said his name as he huffed and blinked a few times, you finally noticed that he was silent crying.

“I had a nightmare,” He explained, his voice now sounding a bit raw, “That night out there and seeing those humans kill each other.  I could hear them crying out for help…..but I just stood there and did nothing…..like a coward.”

“Hey!” You huffed, reaching over to frame his face in your hands to get his attention.  His blue eyes were brightened in tears, and his cheeks and skin were flushed, this was now the same Druig knew that was filled with life and hope.  You saw him thrive there in that village building new homes for the growing families and new crops on the small farm.  He loved what he was doing, he looked so happy and filled with joy in helping the small cluster of humans thrive and survive.

To hear himself call himself a coward though…

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” You scolded him, seeing him blink at you as you stared at him hard, “You are not a coward, not even close! Don’t ever call yourself that ever again, you hear me?”

He said nothing, but you knew he was drinking it all in as he laced your spare hand in his own and you gave him a small smile.

“Druig, you are one of the bravest beings I know. You’re brave for knowing what is right and saying it, not holding it in.  If anything, that is uncowardly.  I have always loved how brave you were and wishing to do the right thing and never holding back with your words, it was one of the reasons I fell in love with you,”  

Druig smiled, small but softly as you traced some of the tears away with your fingers.

“You should have told me you were feeling this way,” You advised him, but he shrugged and bit his lower lip.

“I thought I could handle it on my own,” he tried to explain, but you huffed.

“Why do you always think you have to do everything on your own?  You stubborn ass,” you said, Druig snorted and finally chuckled for the first time that night as you giggled.  You were glad to break off that mood he was in, Druig wrapping you in his arms to hug you as you let him.  Druig would never be one to ask for him in any way, which bothered you since you knew it would be too much for him at the time.  Something like this though, worried you that he was having these nightmares over time and keeping it to himself just to protect you.  Then again, you knew deep down old ghosts and demons would haunt anyone.  

Even the mind controller himself.

“All is well, Druig,” You said against his head as you kissed his ear, “Don’t think you can do this alone, not with me.  Lean on me when it gets heavy, please,”

“Anything for you, my love,” he replied as he pecked your lips.  

“Good, now come to bed with me.  I miss you in my arms,” you replied, getting up and taking Druig by the hand.  He laughed, following you willingly as you two finally left the porch to go back into the little home that you made together.  Nightmares will come and go, but they won’t last forever.

Not like the love you had for Druig. 

The End

#druig x reader #druig x female reader #druig x eternal!reader #druig x y/n #eternals #marvels eternals #druig imagine #marvel cinematic universe #marvel mcu #marvel cinematic universe fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu phase 4

[smallandangry24]

I want to plant sunflowers

A ramble

Inspired by the song “All That We Are” (Audiomachine)

I want to dig my hands into the earth and feel the humid soil matt in between my fingers and crust under my nails. I want to smell it churning as I reach back and feel sunflower seeds clacking gently, gliding through the gaps in my fingers as I take a fistful to distribute into the bed of dirt I’ve clawed and cradled out just for them.

I want to look up at the blue sky, such a deep blue I feel it in the back of my head, though I’ve always preferred fluffy clouds, and feel the tension from bending over ease in a satisfying stretch, my back popping and suddenly I can feel my knees returning from that crouched pressure, skin or overalls damp from the earth. I’ll wash them later. I want to squint at the sun and smile knowing the rain will come later. The earth will care for the seeds. I want to hear the leaves of the trees beyond laughing. I want the wind to ruffle my hair as it does for them.

I want the rain to come on my way back up the path, red clay and loam making little puddles I tap just to hear the splash, caking my boots and later bare feet. I want it to sprinkle down in heavy drops with the sun still shining. I want to smell it. I want to taste it. Sweet summer sun and the mint and blue of the sky. Petrichor.

I want it to grow like all things do under my hand — or maybe under the Earth’s. I want my hair to stick to my face like the raindrops and my clothes to be damp with water and joy. I want to feel the humidity and vapor rising from the ground as I pad onto the front porch, the grains of the wood feeling real under my feet, my soles grounded and my head free. I want the drops to stick in my eyelashes as I strip the excess layers, and hear the wet clap they make flinging onto the ground.

I want to be disgusted by the lovely air conditioning when I step inside on the cool floors — stone or wood — and my toes to separate and feel pressure as I walk to the stove or heater or fire place, tracking damp footprints and falling soil on the soft rugs, the rain coming down hard how. I want to go to the gas stove or kettle and make hot chocolate with the good whipped cream that my neighbor taught me to make as a child and tea for my friends. I want to hear laughter as I stare out the window gazing into the cold wet horizon, warm.

I want to have scratchy cozy soft blankets, many, but they fight to all fit under one anyway. I want books upon books but cherish the horrible doodles and scribbles and sticky notes and Polaroids left by passer-bys…. There are no strangers here. I want to leave the door unlocked or open and play guitar on the porch with a lantern at night. There’s always enough soup and fresh vegetables in the fridge to share. Always an extra bowl or mug or pair of fuzzy socks. Out of tune songs and comfortable silences, like the kiss on the palm of your hand or a cupped cheek. Too many wind chimes and plants growing everywhere, soaking up the sun and the overflowing love or peace in this place in the earth I have dug for us. All of us. Planted and watered and warmed.

I want to grow roots and I want to grow, either by my own hand or The hand. I want a garden sown for all those I love and will grow to love and will love to grow.

I want to plant sunflowers.

#writing #it’s a simple dream enough #but sometimes I think all we really want is peace and love and to be known #to live and not just survive #ramble #sunflowers #audiomachine #all that we are #I want to plant sunflowers

[kellindandrews]

Preview - Children of Monsters

                                                      Prologue

                                                            Lou

     It feels like the world is falling down around me.

     Just this spring, things were good. They were great. I had just turned sixteen, the snow was finally melting, and I looked forward to the summer on the lake.

     Harley, the tiny tourist town full of rental cottages and souvenir shops where I grew up, came alive in the spring. Seasonal businesses opened again, and people came from all over, and the summer was vibrant. Every year, the summer was a montage of barbecues, block parties, art festivals and music and days spent on the beach next to a crystal-clear lake. The breeze was sticky-sweet, and the lake was the perfect escape from the beating sun. June smelled of fresh-cut grass and wildflowers. July smelled of fireworks and char-grilled food and sunscreen. August’s warm breeze and sun-baked concrete melted into September’s campfires and final visits to the ice cream parlour, and then the summer went into hibernation once more.

     My favourite part of the summer was the storms. Harley’s summer weather was usually hot and sunny, perfect for all the summer vacationers. But when it rained, it was monstrous and marvellous. Ever since I was little, I liked to sit on the front porch underneath the little awning at our house and stare off into the distance as the hot afternoon snapped and the storm rolled in. The summer breeze held onto its warmth but lost the smell of sugar and sunscreen to take on the drowned scent of the lake and the earthy smell of the woods.

     I loved to watch the bright blue sky darken into something sinister and beautiful. Sometimes, it felt like those mid-July storms were like me. I saw myself in the thunderous side of summer just as much as others saw me in the sunshine. When I was really young, I liked to imagine that I was the one making the leaves on the trees turn over, drawing the choppy, violent waves from the lake up onto the beach. My parents finally made me come in as the rain pounded down on the lawn and lightning flashed in purple forks across the sky. My favourite sound to fall asleep to was the pattering of rain against the windows and the ground-shaking rumble of thunder.

     The only one who liked storms as much as I did was Cal, who is a storm herself.

     Accalia. My best friend and my adopted sister. By the time I turned sixteen, it finally felt like our family was growing into itself. Cal was still angry, with her sharp edges and quick temper, but she let herself be one of us. After five years, I thought that this summer would be the one that I could spend with my family exactly as we always should have been.

     I never got to enjoy my last summer in Harley.

     Mom got sick. By the time she was diagnosed, it was late. Very, very late. She kept her head held high. She’s the strongest woman I know, and at first, against all odds, she seemed to be getting better. By September, we all thought that she would be just fine.

     And then, as if overnight, she got worse.

     Now, Mom’s not in and out of the hospital anymore; it’s like she lives there. I don’t think she wanted to go, but Dad and her doctors talked her into it. She seems sicker every day.

     When he doesn’t look sad or angry, Dad looks tired. He spends most of his time at the hospital with Mom, and he stays upstairs in their room when he’s home.

     Liam doesn’t talk much besides when we go visit Mom. I don’t think Dad knows that he’s been skipping school.

     And then there’s Cal. She doesn’t care that Mom is sick. Just when I thought she was finally truly family, she doesn’t care. Amid all the hurt, grief, and fear, it makes me angry.

     I don’t know where my family went.

     Cal fights with Dad. She doesn’t come with us when we see Mom. She gets into trouble and stays out too late. Dad’s family says taking her in was a mistake, that she’s too much. Too other. They don’t know the half of it. I only hope Dad can’t actually send her back.

     Then she gets suspended from school, and Dad’s had enough.

     It’s the same old fight, ever since she came to live with us. This time, it’s louder. It shakes the windows in their frames more than any wild summer storm could do. Cal tells Dad she hates him. Dad gets angrier than he ever would with me. I’m stuck in the room with them, and their yelling makes my chest tight, and my eyes sting. I wish they would stop.

     I know things with Mom aren’t looking good, even though Dad doesn’t want us to feel that way. On the evening of Cal and Dad’s biggest fight yet, Cal disappears while we’re at the hospital. She’s run away before, and Dad mutters about how it’s getting old. She still scares me every time. When the police bring her home from a side street on the outskirts of town, Dad grounds her to the basement for the rest of her suspension. Cal takes one of the five pastel-coloured mugs Mom bought from the row at the back of the kitchen counter, wordlessly lets it fall and smash against the grey tile of the floor.

     Mom’s gone before Cal comes back to school, and I don’t think I can hold the rest of us together in her wake.

                              __________________________________

Pre-order Children of Monsters and its sequel House of Wolves now. Coming July 20th.

#Children of Monsters #House of Wolves #comonsters #howolves #independent author #canadian author #book reccs #YA #ya fiction #book promotion #writers on tumblr #book publishing #publishing #upcoming releases

[fortuositywritings]

I Said No (Wanda x R): Pt 5

Pt 1,  Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 4, House Map

Summary: Movie theater, Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, and the county fair

“We can come back to get the rest. I don’t understand why you’re doing that.”

Wanda watches you struggle trying to carry everything you brought from the store but two bags that Wanda herself is carrying. 

“Because, my young Padawanda, it is one of the most important rules of the Jedi Code. One must never make a second trip to the car lest he be a nerd.”

“Oh my gosh! Have you seen Star Wars?” You and Wanda turn your heads towards the porch where Sam and Peter reside. Peter runs down to you in excitement. “Which ones have you seen?”

“Only like all of them!” you answer, just as excited as Peter to have someone else here who likes the movies. Laura finds them boring, Clint thinks they’re too long, and Nat says she’s not a child. You tried watching them with Cooper and Lila but they fell asleep halfway through. So no one can blame you for getting excited. Unfortunately, the little bounce that accompanied your answer causes a few things to slip from your arms, but Peter, given his incredible reflexes, catches them all before they touch the ground. “The force is strong with this one,” you tell him.

“And a second trip is what makes you a nerd.” Sam mumbles under his breath on his way over to help by taking the bags from Wanda. “What’s on your neck?” He asks her. Her hand flies up to her neck only to find it sticky.

“It’s what happens when you mess with a Jedi,” you answer for her in a silly voice making Peter laugh. You also make Wanda blush as she recalls how it happened, but you don’t see this since you and Peter are already making your way to the house. Sam, however, does notice Wanda’s face and recognizes that look, leaving him stumped. Wanda only snaps out of her trance when the door closes behind you and Peter. 

“I don’t get it,” he says to Wanda. “What is it about her? Is it the confidently flirty but still kind of geeky thing that does it for you ladies?”

Wanda, embarrassed at being caught, heads to the house ignoring Sam’s questions. She can still hear him as he yells after, “Don’t walk away! I need to know if nerds are the thing now!”

Sam catches her in the kitchen along with you and Peter putting things you bought where they’re meant. Instead of asking Wanda anything, he turns his questions to you and Peter, who you all find out has a girlfriend now. Sam guesses his “nerds are in” theory correct based on that and soon he is agreeing to watch Star Wars with you, Peter, and Wanda. He threw Wanda a subtle wink when neither you nor Peter were looking as if to say ‘you’re welcome’ for including her in those plans. Clint, coming in from the side door, catches the ending of that conversation and groans. 

“No! Laura! Peter and Y/N found an interest they can both be annoying about,” he goes to complain to his wife. Later though, he as well as everyone else joins you to watch the movie. You and Peter thoroughly answer all of Sam and Pietro’s questions and hush everyone at your favorite parts, mouthing the lines along with the scene. Wanda ends up not watching the movie anymore but watching you and she begins to wonder if maybe Sam was right.

***

“How much longer?” you find yourself asking the next morning trying not to sound as out of breath as you are. You’ve been jogging for you don’t know how long now but it feels way longer than what Nat had promised it would be when she woke you up at six in the morning.

“Another mile,” she answers, no sign of struggle in her voice as if this is a cakewalk. You suppose it is for her since she’s had to slow down numerous times for you to catch up.

“Another mile?!”

“Hey, you said you would keep up today,” Nat reminds you.

“You know you can’t trust anything I say during my haven’t-had-caffeine-yet hours. Don’t I get points for trying?”

“Like your little green friend says, ‘Do or do not, there is no try’,” Nat retorts.

“I knew you were paying attention last night!” You increase your pace to jog beside her. “You can act too tough to like Star Wars all you want around everyone else, but I’ll always know the truth.” You can see her shake her head from the corner of your eye. You don’t say anything for a moment, but being one who cannot let the quiet linger too long, as Tanya would attest to, you speak up. “So, how’s your little green friend doing?”

You turn your head for a second to show Nat you were genuinely looking for an answer and in the next she’s practically running away from you. She went fast but not quick enough for you to miss the little redness creeping up on her cheeks. You have never in your years of knowing her seen her blush before. You have seen her sweat after a sparring match with Clint, get a bit of a sunburn, and get so angry she looked like she would pop a vein, but not one of those times were her cheeks turning a rosy color. Aww, Romanov’s in love. Once you’ve come to that conclusion, you go to tease her. Wait, where did she go?

“You asshole!” You yell at Nat who you finally find casually leaning on the car door watching you storm up to her. It took you an hour to find the car after losing the trail you were on trying to find Natasha. She doesn’t even flinch as she reaches over and pulls a twig out of your hair. “What happened to you?”

“You left me!” You huffed, walking around to the passenger side while Nat got in the driver seat unfazed. Truth be told, after 30 minutes without any sign of Nat, you thought she was putting you through some kind of test. You were getting paranoid, so it’s not surprising you took a tumble when you swiftly tried to avoid an attack from what turned out to be a squirrel running up a tree. But you’ll just keep that to yourself forever.

You head straight to the shower when you get to the house ignoring the morning greetings from those you pass on the way. “What’s up with her?” Sam asks Nat in the living room. “She hasn’t had her caffeine yet.”

You let the shower wash away your moodiness which, you can admit to yourself alone, stemmed for the most part from embarrassing yourself. Afterwards, you head to the kitchen ready to eat whatever everyone had for breakfast, but come up empty. You guess they’d finished all of it if the plates and pan left out to dry say anything. You open the fridge looking for something to eat. Maybe there is something in there you can heat up. Unlike Laura, Wanda, and self proclaimed chef Pietro, you cannot cook to save your life. 

“What’s cooking, good looking?” Speak of the devil. Maybe he can make you something? You know all it would take is some batting of the eyelashes and a compliment. No, Wanda said no. But there is nothing in the fridge to heat up and you were hungry. Wanda would surely understand it was for the greater good, right? Already breaking the first rule, I see.

Caught red handed, you look over Pietro’s shoulder to see Wanda walking into the kitchen to join you two. She’s raising her eyebrows at you waiting for an answer. 

“Okay, new rule,” you say. Pietro is confused at what he assumes is your response until he sees that you aren’t talking to him. “No more reading my mind,” you say sternly, pointing at Wanda. 

Pietro smirks. “Yeah, I don’t need you to hear what goes on Y/N’s mind when she is thinking about me,” he says to Wanda. Both you and Wanda roll your eyes. “Sam is asking for you outside,” is all she says to him and off he goes with a groan.You groan as well, the chance of getting someone to make you food leaving with him.

“You could have just asked me, you know?” Wanda says, leaning against the sink. 

“I thought I said no mind reading,” you remind her. She chuckles when you close the refrigerator door and hit your head against it in defeat.

“I wasn’t,” she defends. “I was serious when I said he can’t cook. I may have saved you from food poisoning.”

“Maybe, but I would have been full and happy for a moment. Since you chased away my shot at food, I think you should make it up to me by making me some breakfast,” you try, leaning against the fridge.

“Oh? I should, should I?” You nod confidently thinking it might just work, but she tears that thought away when she continues, “Cause I remember you still needing to make it up to me when you didn’t buy the ice creams.”

You frown, “I thought you’d forgotten about that.” She smiles, with nose scrunch and all, shaking her head. “Fine, you want to go to the fair? I’ll take you to the fair tomorrow!”

“A fair? I want to go!” you hear Cooper shout. He is coming in through the back door with Lila who looks just as excited and with Nat who does not. You ignore Nat’s face when you tell Cooper that you can all go to the fair. He and Lila run off in excitement to tell the others. Nat glares at you as she takes a seat at the kitchen table. 

“See,” you turn to Wanda. “Now I have to take you for sure. Make me some food now, please,” you beg her, drawing out the word please. She squints her eyes like she’s thinking about it and then, “Only because you asked so nicely.” 

“Thank you,” you throw her a huge smile at which Wanda rolls her eyes.

“But if you are going to be here,” she says pushing you away from the fridge, “you are going to help. You’ve got to learn how to cook for yourself.” And you do just that. You nod along intently listening to all her instructions, not wanting to miss a thing. Sometimes you’d interrupt to make a joke and when one is about her brother, she playfully punches you. You are so immersed in your little bubble, you forget Nat is not too far away watching your interaction with curiosity. She has you try the food first and you could almost moan. You notice a blush creeping up on Wanda’s face and suddenly she’s avoiding your eyes.The food is so good and you were so hungry that maybe you did let out a little noise of satisfaction. Before you could say anything, another voice interrupts, “What’s this I hear about a fair?”

You turn slowly recognizing the tone your cousin uses. It’s the who-made-these-plans-without-asking-me-first tone. You smile at Laura, mouth full of food. You see Nat point at you but Laura was already looking at you. “Yeah, I think she knows it was me, Natasha.”

***

A few uneventful hours go by and you are bored out of your mind. You have a sudden urge to go out seeing as the sun was still shining. You pull out your phone having an idea of what to do to kill some time. You scroll through your phone to see what movies are playing at the only movie theater in town. You see that the next showing is for a horror movie. 

“Do you like scary movies?” you turn to the group playing Uno in the living room. Pietro gets up in excitement when you mention going to the movie theater. Sam agrees to come as well and drags Peter out the door when Peter wants to stay claiming it’s to keep the kids company. You are about to head out with everyone but you notice Wanda still sitting on the couch. You wait for her to get up when Pietro says, “Yeah, good luck with that. She’s too chicken to watch scary movies.”

Wanda, offended, gets up quickly from the couch, “Am not. I just think they’re boring.”

“Sure,” Pietro chuckles as he heads out the door.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” you tell her. You think she is going to stay, but she starts heading out the door to the car. 

“You sure that’s not enough butter, Y/N?” Peter asks you when he sees how much butter he’s already put in the bucket at your insistence. He can feel some of it through the bucket already. 

“Fine, that’s good. You grab some napkins. I’ll hold the bucket,” you tell him after you see his eyebrows scrunch. You all go to the designated room and pick a row to sit in having pretty much any seat you want since it was practically empty. You sit down next to Peter and notice Pietro’s eyes falling to the empty seat on your other side. He aims to sit next to you but his sister who was sitting next to Peter before beats him to it. He throws her a confused look as he shuffles his way down to sit in her abandoned seat. “Real subtle there, Wanda,” you say, amused more than anything.

“I can see the screen better from here.” You let her bad excuse slide and turn to the screen as the movie begins to play. Between you, Peter, and Pietro, the popcorn is gone in record time. The jumpscares begin halfway through the movie. Peter holds the empty bucket as a safety blanket which you find adorable. You don’t even know if Wanda is watching the movie. She’s got her eyes somewhat hidden behind her fingers. You want to tease her, so you reach to take her fingers away from her face, but another jumpscare happens and she takes your hand in her free one. You feel her squeeze the life out of your hand in anticipation of another jumpscare. 

Your palm begins to sweat and you start to feel uncomfortable with all the butter on your fingers, so you slip your hand out from hers. She turns to you in question. “Sorry, my hand’s full of butter,” you whisper. She reaches over you to ask Peter something. Without a word, she leans back in her seat with napkins in her hand and cleans all the butter off your hand before taking it in hers once more, this time interlacing your fingers. She turns her focus back to the movie. You feel you should just do the same, so you follow her actions. You let her hold your hand for the rest of the movie until the lights come back up.

Wanda shouldn’t have watched that movie. It is much too dark in the bedroom. It is much too quiet. She can hear Nat’s soft breathing from beside her. The silhouettes of various items around the room are creeping her out. She doesn’t think she is going to be sleeping any time soon. Maybe some tea will help. She gets up quietly trying not to wake Nat, but when she’s at the door, Nat asks, “Where are you going?”

“The bathroom,” Wanda lies easily. She’d rather not let Nat know that she couldn’t sleep because of some scary movie. What kind of superhero would that make her? As she heads downstairs, she wonders if you were still awake. She turns down the hallway to peek into the living room and sure enough you were still awake watching television. She walks over to you behind the couch. “What are you watching?” she asks. You feel your soul leave your body not having heard her approach. She giggles as she walks around to sit next to you. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, just warn a girl next time.” She turns her attention to the show. “It’s Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. It’s really good. I used to watch it with Laura when she would babysit while my mom was at work. Some of the jokes I wouldn’t even understand but I’d laugh ‘cause she was laughing,” you reminisce. 

“You and her are very close.”

“Yeah, well, she’s practically the only family I have. My mom passed not so long ago and seeing as there was never a dad in my family picture, my aunt and uncle took me in. I don’t have any siblings and neither does Laura so, she’s kind of it.” You add, “Well, apart from Clint, Nat, and the kids of course.”

Another two scenes go by on the show before you ask, “Did you have a nightmare or could you not fall asleep?”

Wanda looks down embarrassed so you add, “I promise I’m not teasing. I’m just asking.”

“I couldn’t sleep. It was too quiet and dark and Natasha was already asleep, so I thought I would come down here,” she replies.

“Oh, so you thought I would definitely put you to sleep. Wow, I don’t see how this friendship is going to work if you think I bore you to sleep,” you tease. Upon seeing her tired smile, you take pity and pat your thighs and gesture for her to lie down. “Come here.”

When she lays her head on your lap, you begin running your fingers through her hair. You hear her yawn and a few minutes later you find her sound asleep. Careful not to wake her, you reach over to the blanket you were meant to use on you and throw it over her body instead. Another two episodes play before you fall asleep.

***

You wake up once again with a sore neck and you feel that your body might be as well, but when you remember the reason, you don’t find it in yourself to complain. You look around prepared to see Nat in gym clothes holding a coffee cup but you find the living room empty apart from you and Wanda. You look out the window and see the sun is barely about to rise. Surprised to have woken up before anyone else, you decide to make the most of it but you are quickly sidetracked getting distracted by Wanda’s sleeping form. “I can feel you staring,” she says, her voice husky which you try hard not to find attractive. She turns her head to look up at you with sleepy eyes. “Friends don’t do that.”

“I was not staring. I was admiring,” you respond. “And friends can admire their friends.”

“Well mine don’t the way you do.” 

“Ain’t that a shame.” You boop her nose with your finger making her scrunch her nose.

“They do, however, let me sleep,” she jokes. She turns her head back as if she was to go back to sleep and you decide this might be the best time to get up. You gently lift her head from your lap and swivel your body off the couch. “Where are you going?” she whines, when you place a pillow under her head.

“I am going to wake Nat up for once in my life,” you reply with determination. You stretch and shake your legs trying to get the feeling back in them.

“Good luck with that,” is the last thing Wanda says before closing her eyes and going back to sleep. You head to the kitchen to start the coffee pot and then make your way upstairs. Luckily, the door was left open so you don’t make any noise on your way in. You tiptoed your way to Natasha and bent down so your face was eye level to hers. You honestly can’t believe you’ve made it this far since she is the lightest sleeper. This is the spy they chose for the Avengers? You giggle to yourself imagining the face Nat is going to make when you scare her. Oh, if they could see her now…they would be satisfied with their choice, you think as you try to choke out, “Uncle. Uncle.” Nat somehow has you in a choke hold and you are tapping furiously on her arm. Once she realizes it’s you she lets go.

“Y/N, what the hell! I could have hurt you!” she yells at you as you’re coughing. You stare at her unbelievably, rubbing at your neck, and once you can speak again you say, “Then what was this to you? Some light foreplay?”

Once you both settle down, she realizes you were up before her. You take some exercise attire out for yourself from your luggage. You might not like to exercise but gym clothes are sure comfy to lie around in. “You gotta keep up, Natasha. You don’t want the boss man to catch you slacking. Oh, I’m also making coffee so don’t worry about that.”

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” she asks, her eyebrows furrowing. You smile in turn. “I don’t know what you mean. I’ll catch you downstairs.”

You leave her to change and head downstairs with your clothes. You go to the kitchen first and make two cups of coffee. Then you go to the restroom to change. After she finishes changing, Nat goes to the kitchen and sees you were not kidding. Natasha takes her cup of coffee to the living room as she always does and finds Wanda asleep on the couch. She sighs as things start adding up. She guesses this is the reason for the lack of a grumpy attitude from you so early in the morning. She wants to say something but Nat would rather take a motivated Y/N over Y/N complaining every five minutes on their hike. So, she doesn’t say anything for now.

You actually keep up with Nat this time and to top it off you don’t talk too much like you always do. Nat thinks it’s because you're in a good mood giving you motivation, but the reason for keeping her pace and keeping quiet is your fear she’ll leave you again if you say something to set her off and lose her like yesterday. Nat even goes as far as giving you a compliment at the end. Well, semi-compliment, but her “Not too bad, Y/N”s are few and far between so you return to the house feeling proud of yourself.

This time you’re the one saying good morning to everyone when you enter. You see a few of them still eating breakfast in the kitchen. You hope there will still be leftovers by the time you come back down after showering. Knowing how some of the guys eat, it is going to have to be a quick shower. Laura sees you eyeing the food and says, “Don’t worry, we saved you a plate.” And here you thought Wanda was the mind reader. “Wanda told us you were grumpy yesterday from not catching breakfast so we made sure to make more.” That explains it. You smile, happy someone kept you in mind. Now you can shower in peace. You thank her and head upstairs.

“You saw that, right?” Laura turns to Clint and Nat who walked in not too long before you left.

“She’s been like that all morning. Not one ‘Are we done yet?’ or ‘Why do you hate me, Natasha?’ on our hike,” Nat replies in a hushed tone as if it’s so unlike you to be agreeable in the morning. 

“Do you think it has anything to do with a certain somebody?” Laura felt the need to ask.

“Well she didn’t just find a love for exercise,” Nat sarcastically says.

Clint sighs, “Do you think we have to talk to her again?” 

Nat goes to respond, but Laura cuts off whatever Nat was going to say, “No, if anyone is going to talk to her, it’s me. And it’s not going to be some crappy ‘no dating’ rule type of conversation. You two are great when it comes to getting someone to talk with your intimidation, but save that for your job, which speaking of, Wanda is your coworker, so you may want to talk to her as well if you had to talk to Y/N because last I remember it takes two to tango.”

Nat and Clint stare at Laura in shock, embarrassment and guilt rightfully taking over their bodies. “Are we clear?” Laura asks them though it’s more of a statement leaving no room for argument. 

“Yes.” “Yeah.”

Upstairs, you make your way to the guest room to grab some clothes. Wanda is sitting on the bed reading her book. She is still dressed in her pyjamas, which makes you smile. The sound of her turning the page shakes you from your thoughts and saves you from staring a bit too long. Wanda smirks without bothering to look away from her book and you know she caught you.

“Morning, I’m just gonna get some clothes,” you explain as you move to where your bag is. Wanda speaks up while you zip your duffle closed, “I’m sorry for bothering you last night.”

“Come on, Wanda. You could never be a bother,” you say sincerely, giving her a smile that she shyly returns. “Alright, the shower is calling my name.”

“Yeah, I can hear it screaming,” she jokes and laughs when you take mock offense, “Hey!” She goes back to reading when she sees you heading out the door but you call her attention once more, “Oh! Thanks for telling them to save me a plate.”

“Of course,” she replies like it wasn’t even worth mentioning. You nod at her and then go to shower, closing the guest room door behind you.

A few seconds later, the door opens up again and Wanda amusedly says, her eyes never straying from the page she’s reading, “Did the shower call the wrong name?”

“No, it was definitely calling Y/N’s and mine too, I’m sure, but I wanted to talk to you first.”

Wanda’s head diverts to the door at Nat’s voice. 

“And you needed back up for it?” Wanda looks over to Clint who awkwardly stands behind Nat.

Clint clears his throat, “Well it was only fair if Y/N got both of us, you did too.”

Wanda straightens her posture as she places her book beside her. “Ah, so this is about Y/N. I had a feeling.”

Nat and Clint come into the room, Clint closing the door behind him. Nat goes to sit on the end of the bed and Clint stands behind her. “Look, we were wrong to tell Y/N what to do or rather not do. She is an adult and has the right to do whatever she wants, but you have to understand she’s someone who tends to get ahead of herself and we didn’t- we don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Nat starts.

“So you’re saying she is getting ahead of herself with me? That what? Come two weeks, she’ll realize she doesn’t want me?” Wanda starts to get visibly upset.

“No, that’s not what-” Clint tries to speak but Wanda is not done talking. “Even if that was the case, it would be her choice. It would be my choice.”

“Wanda, you are not going to be here in two weeks. You are not going to be here in a few days,” Natasha calmly says trying to reason. “Look, we love Y/N, okay? But she often finds herself making mistakes-”

“So I would just be another mistake? 

“No, you would be a dangerous one,” Nat says trying to get something through to Wanda.

“I would never hurt her.”

“No, maybe not intentionally,” Nat continues, and when Wanda looks like she is going to argue, Clint interrupts, “Wanda, just let her finish.” Wanda takes a breath to calm herself down and then nods for Natasha to carry on.

“Being in our lives more than she has to could get her hurt. Even this morning, I hurt her when she was probably just trying to play some stupid prank. Being around us is dangerous. Why do you think Clint kept all this a secret,” Nat motions around the room. “Why do you think I was so upset about her and Yelena? Why do you think we haven’t said anything to Y/N before? Those other girls aren’t you. Those other girls aren’t Yelena. I don’t even know where she is right now. We live different lives. Say things do work out with Y/N. Much like I don’t know where my sister is, there will be times she won’t have a clue where you are or if you’re okay. When Clint and I say we don’t want anyone to get hurt, it goes both ways.”

“Wan, have you seen my blue shirt with the buttons?” Pietro storms into the room like a man on a mission, not even bothering to acknowledge Nat and Clint are in the room as well. “I know I packed it.” Not until he reads the hurt in Wanda’s eyes does he read the room and like the protective sibling he is, he is quick to get defensive. “What’s happening here?”

Her brother’s interruption could not have come at a better time. Wanda didn’t know how to respond to Nat’s explanation. She was feeling herself choke up, Vision’s voice springing in her head again. She’s happy to have Pietro here so willing to jump in to defend her but she doesn’t want to drag him into it, so she clears her throat and says, “Nothing. We were just talking.” He still looks unsure, so she gets up from the bed and offers, “I’ll help you look for it.” Her eyes plead for him to let it go. Luckily, he does and heads out the door.  Clint and Nat watch Pietro leave and Wanda stop by the door. “You don’t have to worry. Y/N made it clear to me that we’re just friends,” she says in defeat, then turns to follow her brother.

“Well, that went well,” Clint says sarcastically. 

Wanda spends the next two hours helping Sam, Peter, and Pietro get ready. She helps Sam pick an outfit first seeing as he was the first to shower. She has to pry one of Peter’s t-shirts from his hands saying he’s twice Peter’s size and he cannot pull the nerdy look. She helps Peter next. It’s mostly just styling his hair he needs help with. At last she helps her brother after having knocked on the bathroom door four different times telling him to hurry up. 

“How does the one with superspeed take an hour in the shower?” Sam asks rhetorically. Sam, Wanda, and Peter are on the bed in Cooper’s room watching Pietro straighten out his shirt.

“Hey, it takes time to look this good,” Pietro says as he fixes his collar. All three of them nearly roll their eyes. “Do you think Y/N will like this shirt?”

“Yeah, if it was on Wanda, maybe,” Sam snorts. Peter holds back a chuckle while Wanda tries not to react. 

“You look nice,” Wanda says, not wanting to tear down her brother’s confidence. Everyone’s attention is drawn to the closed door when someone knocks. They hear you ask if you can come in. Pietro responds, “One second.” He goes to lean against Cooper’s desk casually and all three on the bed try really hard not to laugh. Peter has to shove his face in a pillow. “Okay, come in.”

You let yourself into the room, your eyes falling on Wanda immediately. “Not that you don’t look nice in them, but do you really plan on wearing your pjs to the fair?” you tease her. “I mean, you’ll for sure be turning heads, if that’s the plan.” 

She replies, “I was waiting on the shower. Someone was taking their time.” She points her head in Pietro’s direction who gives you a nod in acknowledgement and a “‘sup?” Sam’s mouth forms a line trying so hard not to laugh out loud. Peter’s face stays hidden behind the pillow but you can see from the side of his neck his face was getting red. You feel like you walked in at the wrong time given everyone’s behavior. You tell Wanda, “You might want to hurry. Clint says we’re leaving soon.” With that you turn to leave wondering what you had walked in on. 

When you shut the door, everyone in Cooper’s room excluding Pietro bursts out laughing.

“What the hell was that, man?” Sam asks between fits of laughter.

Peter gets up and leans against the desk to mimic Pietro, “‘Sup?” Everyone laughs again, Pietro leaning over to slap Peter in the back of the head.

***

They take the family car and Nat’s car to the fair. Sam and Peter ride with Nat while the rest of you ride with Clint driving. As you wait in line to buy tickets, you lean over Wanda’s shoulder, who is standing right in front of you with her back to you, and say “I meant to say this earlier but you look nice.”

She smiles and then turns around to face you as you take a step back. She jokes, “I thought I looked good in my pyjamas but someone implied it wasn’t appropriate for the fair.”

“Oh definitely not appropriate. It was way too sexy. We couldn’t have that around the children,” you reply making her giggle.

“You don’t look too bad either,” she returns the earlier compliment, taking in your outfit as you shuffle forward with the rest of the line. “Your outfit is very nice.”

“Oh, this. I just threw it together.” No, you didn’t. You took your time with it. “But thanks,” you wave her off. When you reach the ticket stand, you rush in front of Clint to pay for yours, Wanda’s, Laura’s, Nat’s, and the kids’ tickets. You explain to him when you are all walking together that you kind of owed Wanda for something and you were the one who promised to take the kids here much to Nat and Laura’s displeasure so you kind of owed them too. 

You make it inside the fairgrounds. A giant banner that reads “WESTVIEW COUNTY FAIR!” greets you overhead. Everyone gets excited upon seeing the banner and all the lights in the background. Well, everyone but Nat and Laura, Nat not ever a big fan of fairs and Laura not a fan of taking care of kids at a fair. Out of all the lights shining on the fairgrounds, your favorite is the one shining through Wanda’s eyes as she takes everything in with wonder. 

“So what do you want to do first?” you ask her.

She turns to you and almost looks embarrassed. “I don’t know. I’ve never been to a fair.”

“What?” you ask in shock. She shrugs not knowing what else she could say. “Well, it’s settled then. We are not leaving until you get the whole experience. Let’s go buy some wristbands for the rides. We are going on every single one.” Her eyes widen and the wonder in them from earlier shifts into nervousness. “It’ll be fun, come on,” you reassure as you drag her to another line, leaving everyone else behind. 

You and Wanda get on every ride but the ferris wheel telling her you have to leave that one for last. You even ride some twice, but you get hungry and ask Wanda if she wants to eat yet. She agrees that she could take a break for food. You try various things the fair offers wanting Wanda to try everything. “You Americans like to fry anything you can,” she comments as she takes another bite of her fried oreo. She hums as she finishes it off. “I understand why,” she says, making you laugh. 

You spot Laura and Nat sitting at a table near the stage where some band is playing music. You and Wanda head on over. Soon everyone regroups there, finishing off the food they bought and watching people dance. Clint pulls Laura to dance with him. You all sit at the table watching them with a smile when someone obstructs your view of them. You look up to see a tall guy in a black cowboy hat smiling down at Wanda beside you offering his hand out asking her to dance. She looks at you, unsure of what to say. You give her a smile that admittedly took you a second to form and nod encouragingly for her to accept. She smiles politely at him and takes his hand. You watch them dance, your eyes only ever straying when you see Wanda going to look at you. You watch when he leans down to tell her something in her ear and she laughs. You wonder what he told her that was so funny. Your eyes roam over him. He’s handsome, you’ll give him that. He has a nice face, good posture. You note he is also respectful with his hand placement when dancing, so you can appreciate that. It seems like Westview County has their own Steve Rodgers. The thought bugs you.

Someone blocks your view once again, only this time you are kind of thankful for it. You look up to see Pietro asking you to dance. “Why not?” you say, wanting to do anything rather than stare at Wanda dancing with some guy. He pulls you to the dance floor. You enjoy your time dancing with Pietro though you get dizzy from how quickly he spins you. You’re a little disappointed your dance is cut short when Lila taps your arm asking if she can dance with Pietro. You smile at her saying of course she can. With your distraction gone to dance with Lila, your eyes search for Wanda once more but you cannot seem to find her. You feel someone grab your hand and you are spun into that someone’s arms. Your eyes fall to familiar green ones and you smile, “Smooth moves, Maximoff.”

“Thank you,” she says with a smile as she starts to sway with you to the music. “You let me dance with a stranger.”

“You’re dancing with me now and we were strangers not so long ago,” you rebuttal. 

“But at least we know each other’s names.”

“Did you not get his name?” you ask.

“I never asked for it,” Wanda returns simply, shrugging. You find it hard to believe that his name never came up so you say, “That was a lot of talking for him to not have given you a name.”

“You saw us talking? I would not have guessed you were paying attention. Every time I looked at you, you turned to look away,” she teases you.

You swallow, choking on the embarrassment of getting caught. “Doesn’t matter. His name’s probably Brad or something. He looks like a Brad.”

She laughs then catching on to your tone she asks, “Y/N, are you jealous?” 

“What? Me, jealous?” you ask, astonished. She nods, smiling like she has her answer. “Wanda, I could never be jealous of some Brad. Dance with a Marcus and then maybe, but a Brad? Pfft. No.”

She just laughs and pulls you closer. You let yourself go and dance with her until whatever song the band is playing ends. “Let’s go play some games. I feel like shooting something,” you say, making her laugh loudly. 

Everyone decides to play with you as well so you all head over to the different stands. Nat wins the shooting game, Clint coming in close. He wins the popping the balloons with darts game. They give their prizes to Cooper and Lila. Peter and Sam spend some time with the hammer and bell game; Peter hitting the bell every time garners some attention especially from some girls which frustrates Sam. Pietro wins a fish when he plays ring toss. It seems like everyone but you has been winning something. Even Wanda won a stuffed panda she gave to Lila after playing a water shooting game. You were getting frustrated trying to knock some blocks off a stool. You’ve spent a good $20 on this game already. Wanda catching your frustration decides to help you out. When you are down to your last ball, you try your best to focus and throw the ball. Two of the three blocks fall down. The last one is teetering on the edge. You think you’ve lost but a second later it falls over. You shout with glee. You ask the attendant for the keychain that has the letter W on it.

Wanda watches you with a smile as you approach her. “Thank you for that,” you say, and when she tries to play naive, you continue, “I know you knocked the last block.”

She gives you a sheepish smile. You hold out the keychain to her. “I figure this only rightfully belongs to you. May it proudly hold your keys until you lose it.” She tries to say no but you take her wrist and place the keychain in the palm of her hand. “It has your initial. You have to keep it.”

“I’m pretty sure the W is for Westview County,” she counters.

“A happy coincidence.” You don’t take no for an answer and she finally smiles and thanks you, putting her new keychain away so she doesn’t lose it. You look around to see the others still distracted with the games but you also catch your cousin yawn. You know this means you’re leaving soon so you grab Wanda’s hand and head over to the line for the ferris wheel.

You thank the attendant when he checks you have your belt on and pulls the bar to your lap. The wheel starts turning and when you are midway to the top, it shakes a little as two people get on the final empty cart. The shaking makes Wanda nervous. She grabs your hand almost protectively as her posture turns into one that looks ready for a fight. You turn your palm over to interlace your fingers and rub your thumb on her hand to try to soothe her nerves. “Hey, it’s okay,” you say. She turns to you and you see her irises are red. “They always do this. We’re okay. Just don’t rock the cart and we’ll be good.”

She takes a breath willing herself to relax. The red in her irises fade back to her green. She sits back and the ferris wheel moves again, this time not stopping for people to get on. You keep holding her hand squeezing it from time to time in reassurance. You can see Clint and everyone from the ferris wheel and point them out to Wanda. The only ones to see you are the kids who wave to you. You wave back. 

“Do you come to the fair every year?” Wanda asks.

“Pretty much. There’s not much else to do,” you shrug. She ponders this for a moment and then, “So you’ve brought dates to the fair before, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah?” You say more like a question wondering where she was going with this.

“In the movies, people on dates always kiss on the ferris wheel. Did you kiss them?”

“Wanda,” you say her name but it comes out more like a warning.

“Sorry, I was just wondering,” she mutters, then turns to look back at the fairgrounds. 

“No, I didn’t.” You answer sincerely. She looks back at you. You explain, “The two other people I’ve taken to the fair on a date were too afraid to get on the ferris wheel.”

“You said ‘other’,” she says smiling at you.

You look at her confused. “What?”

“You said ‘the two other people’ meaning other than me. So is this date?” she raises an eyebrow, an amused expression on her face.

“A friendly date,” you say, making her frown. She huffs in defeat letting go of your hand and hold the lap bar instead. The night had been going so well, you didn’t want this one thing to ruin it, so without letting yourself think it over, you wait until you get to the top of the ferris wheel. You lean into her space and look her in the eye to show her you are serious when you say, “Don’t tell Nat or Clint.” She looks confused but the confusion quickly turns into a pleasant surprise when you gently grab her face and lean in to kiss her. It doesn’t last long enough to give her a chance to kiss you back. You pull back with a cheeky smile and say, “I did promise the whole experience.” 

The kiss may have ended too quickly for Wanda but it was long enough for a few people to catch it. One of them being your cousin whose kids were pointing to you and Wanda on the ferris wheel in excitement. She just shook her head in amusement when she saw you kiss Wanda. The other person to catch you was Wanda’s brother who, when seeing you kiss his sister, just whines, “No, Y/N.”

______________________________________________________________________

I'm sorry this took so long. I got sidetracked and then when I started I got stuck and in my true fashion, once I started writing, I couldn't stop and I couldn’t leave you without taking you to the fair. So, I hope the length of the chapter makes up for the wait. Oh, Happy Mother's Day to all the mom's out there doing their best to be good moms! I created a house map of how I picture the inside to look, you know without the fine details.

Next chapter bring your bug spray, you’re going camping.

Taglist: @madamevirgo @marvels-writings @gayarchnemissis @myperfectlovepoem @purplemeetsblue @magicallymaximoff @b0mbdotc0m @helloalycia @ironscarletwidowsoilder @cantcontroltheirfear @trikruismybitch @your-my-mission 

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

The Pack: Heated Petals

Summary- 2.7k Alpha Steve x Little One Reader. Steve is finishing up a project and was planning on taking you out but things get side tracked and turns out you two are not leaving for a while. 

Warnings- Smut, Female receiving Oral. 18+ readers only please. 

Written for @imanuglywombat​ “Is that even a sex position” weekly challenge. Divider made by @firefly-graphics​

“Weekend plans?” Sam asked Steve while they waited for the logs to be unloaded from the back of the truck to be sent into the mill to be filed down and then Steve could arrange to have them shipped out to buyers. It had been a busy week, both the Alpha and Steve feeling like they neglected you in that time. Early days and late nights had him giving you a chaste kiss while out the door and quick bouts of sex late in the night before you curled up to him to sleep. 

No, he had to make it right. “I’m thinking about a weekend away, take Little One to a nice dinner, maybe go into the city and get a suite for us for the weekend.” Steve checked the time, anxious to get finished so he could do just that, he never was able to take you out on a date or a trip anywhere just for the two of you. “Peak foliage season right now, I think she would enjoy all of it.” The Alpha agreed with Steve, thumps of his tail marking his approval. 

“Sounds good, Sara is gonna catch a hint of that and be wanting to do the same.” Sam grinned while the last log got unloaded. “Think I might just steal your idea.” 

Steve dug for his keys now that they could head back. “Do it Man, I'm not one to stand in the way of love.” Sam rolled his eyes at the Pack Leader, Steve flashing him a grin as he hauled himself back into the truck. 

You woke up knowing what was going to happen. Your thighs kept clenching together for the relieving pressure it would put on your pussy that started to ache. Not even playing with yourself in the shower had helped relieve it till Steve could get home. Growling in the hot water as you leaned your forehead against the coolness of the shower tile, willing yourself to just calm down. Your Alpha would be home soon. 

The Little Wolf whimpered, her ears flattening against her skull in discomfort. <Call him maybe?> 

I can’t, it's still early and he has been busting his ass to get this last order done. He's stressed out enough as it is. You countered with the Little Wolf, who although miserable with want, agreed that you were right. 

You both were stronger then the heat, you could get through today. 

Just as a precaution, you messaged Sara cancelling your typical coffee date. She didn't ask why, it was thankfully an unspoken understanding between shifters what was going on. Then you paced, back and forth through the cabin, out onto the deck and down to the dock, trying to let the cool fall air ease you to relax. 

If anything it all made you more on edge. Your gut clenching, and your thighs sticky while your pussy throbbed with what felt like every beat of your heart. Throb Throb Throb. 

You clenched your fists and pressed them against the top of your quivering thighs, whispering out “Son of a bitch.” To the only thing around you, the still lake water that seemed so calm, the complete opposite to the Little Wolf crying for her mate inside. 

He will be home soon, I know it. It's Friday. He always cuts the crew loose on Friday. You reasoned, probably more for your sanity then anything, but you could feel the Little Wolf try to settle down with that knowledge. It was then you heard the heavy machinery of the crew's gear rambling down the dirt road leading to the compound and you turned on your toes, head tilted listening for one in particular. The one Steve always took up the mountain. 

The distinct rattle of exhaust sounded and you broke into a sprint back along the dock and up the stairs. Buzzing through the house, you sprang onto the porch, tilting your nose up to inhale deeply, searching for him. Tangles of scents hit you. 

Motor Oil, the trees lining the compound, the cool musty lake, other pack members. None of them were your Alphas heavy calming scent of pine forest and iron, a soothing balm to your soul as well as gasoline to the embers of your hormones driving you mad. 

But it didn't take long for you to locate it, swarming your senses to cloud your mind of rational thought. Steve was in the garage, with a few other stragglers. He always stayed behind to make sure the equipment was put away correctly, a man was only able to work as good as the tools provided for him. 

You skipped down the steps and sprinted again, right now you needed one thing and one thing only. You needed Steve.

Steve was just wiping his hands on a rag, biding the others a good weekend when his back stiffened. It was so distinct, the flooding of honeysuckle that had long ago became a pleasure scent for him, the one that was all you. Steve wasn't the only one to sense it, the other shifters still in the garage pausing to look warily back at the Alpha. Steve’s hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and the Alpha immediately raised from his slumber in the back of his mind. The Wolf’s hackles raised seeing so many between him and the Little One, his Little One who was just in heat and it made Steve’s mouth water and cock ache just catching the faintest whiff of you. But you were growing stronger, just outside of the garage door, and the Wolf started pressing for control of Steve, ready to rip through his lingering pack mates to get to you. Steve did what he could to keep the beast in control. “Get out” He growled deeply, challenging any to oppose him. 

Then you stepped in the doorway and that growl in Steve’s chest turned more threatening, short of a snarl. “Little One, come over here.” Demanded while his nostrils kept flaring, scenting you and you pushed through the packmates who were making a hasty retreat. It was dangerous to get between an Alpha and his mate in heat. Steve never broke eye contact with you, using you making your way towards him as his lifeline to keep in control. The Alpha visibly started shaking in restraint when you would accidentally brush against another on your way to him. The moment you reached him, the garage door slammed shut to the pair, leaving them alone. 

Steve immediately circled your waist with his hands and picked you up to perch on a nearby pickup truck's hood. Pressing his face into the top of your thighs, pressing in against the juncture of them, inhaling the addictive scent that had turned him completely feral in the moment. 

Your fingers pressed into his hair and pressed him in closer as he inhaled against your heat, your hips rolling into his face with a whine. “I really need you Alpha.” 

He bit the top of your thigh lightly before moving back to start working your pants open while you leaned back on your elbows, tilting your head back to try and breath through the next wave of arousal scorching you now that your Mate was close. Your panties and jeans were starting to stick to your skin, and felt so constricting. Your legs kicked out as he started to pull them down. 

“Fuck Little One, why didn’t you call me to come home? There was no need for you to suffer like this.” He growled in a reprimand as he tugged your pants off and you lifted your head guilty while his hands braced along the inside of your thighs and spread them apart to groan at the sight of slick covered petals, swollen in need for him. His cock so fucking hard in his jeans, raging with desire to sink into your heat and knot you while filling you full of cum. But this wasn’t about him. 

You rocked a bit under his gaze, which Steve didn't try to hide the fact that he was staring right in your most intimate spot that was weeping for him, ready to feel your Alpha claim you in every which way. “Because I didn't want to bother you while you were so busy.” 

His eyes snapped up and he stepped in closer, his fingers digging into your thighs. “I thought we went over this, when you go into heat, you're my focus. Fuck everything else.” Harsh kisses started at your ankle and moved up as he lifted a leg to lope over his shoulder, his tongue dragging through the slick on your inner most part of your thigh, but he yet didn't touch your sensitive folds and that made you whine sharply in protest at how he bypassed it. 

“We did-” You panted as your heel pressed into his upper shoulder blade, the cool air washing over your heated core making you shiver. Steve repeated the action with kissing your ankle and then biting in your calf sharp enough to leave his teeth imprint, cutting you off. 

“Next time Little One, you won’t wait, correct?” Dragging his tongue back up your inner thigh and resting his chin against the top of your mound, arched brows waiting for you to confirm. 

The Little Wolf huffed in frustration at you holding out from answering him right away, snapping at you while Steve nudged his nose through the tufts of pubic hair, also holding out on you till you growled out. 

“Yes Alpha, Yes. Please now?” You lifted your hips to have him touch you where you most wanted and strong hands were quick to grasp your ass cheeks, keeping you raised up near his mouth. “Even the Little Wolf is scolding me now.” You huffed and he chuckled as now he let the tip of his nose follow your slit, dragging your scent in like he could drown himself in it. 

“Cause she has common sense.” He teased, when he buried his mouth into your folds, dragging through the slick folds and sucking those sensitive petals into his mouth. You tensed at the sensation of Steve feasting on you. He never was subtle about how much he enjoyed you sprawled open like this for him. Groans and growls following thick hard laps of his tongue, pressing his face harder into sensitive flesh till you swore he imprinted himself into you. 

Slick mess coated his chin as he spread your petals apart to your weeping channel tightening with the sensations of the tip of his tongue tracing tight circles around, dipping into tease the walls before leaving you wanting more while he turned attention to your clit. 

Your sensitive little clit that he tugged between teeth that made you squeal and try to rock into him, scratching a bit at the truck's hood with a screech through the old paint job. “Steve! Fuck Alpha.” You yelped at him and he shook his head to stimulate you more while glancing up at you heatedly. 

“This pussy is mine Little One, I'm going to enjoy my meal.” He sucked the top of your mound into his mouth, his tongue putting pressure against your swollen bud till you were rocking to grind into his face, his hands helping you move back and forth. Now you gushed around him, coats of arousal catching in his beard, glistening while he rubbed his chin against your thigh with a scratchy brush against soft skin, turning it red. Rubbing his scent into you as well as marking you. 

Plump handfuls of your flesh in his hands made him strengthen his grasp on you, digging in harshly while you tried to make your own rocky demands. It would be some time till those fingertip bruises left your flesh, just as his sharp bites to your inner thighs or the beard burn your folds were taking. He was heady with intoxication on your honeysuckle arousal. Warm and enticing, he could keep buried in your pussy just because you were so good to him, slurping up your addicting juices with demanding lips and tongue, your quivering flesh captured in his teeth and he suckled on you. Loud growls overtook the wet sound of him feasting on your pussy, and in no time you started thrashing in your orgasm, bangs of your body on the unforgiving metal of the truck hood. 

He lifted for air, your body heaving as you tried to catch air and your head tilted back while you let the satisfaction of your orgasm wash over you for a few moments of relief with that first orgasm. Steve massaged his hands against your ass while your trembling thighs fell off his shoulders to drape over the edge of the hood. He pulled you open for him once more and the cold air once more made your sweat streaked body goosebump. Steve eased your hips to rest on the edge of the pickups hood, you let your sticky back rest down, running your hands up and down your still clenching body, riding out the last of your orgasm as you heard a zipper drop and buckle open. 

Closing your eyes while you hummed happily, you could already feel the coil spiral in your lower belly, but knowing your Alpha was just about to knot you kept you from getting too impatient. Steve leaned over you while grasping your hips to pull you to the edge. Your legs wrapped around his hips while you reached up to grasp his biceps, to pull yourself up to sit. 

“Mmhh, hold on Little One.” Steve warned before pressing his erection into you. There was no easing in, stretching you open, he just forced himself hilt deep and you revealed in the way it burned with a hiss escaping you, his ruts deep and demanding while you did just as he told you. Digging into his straining biceps and tightening around his hips that rocked upwards to continue railing you, ready to knot your weeping pussy when you came for him again. 

It wouldn't be long, so sensitive after he ate you out. Your head dropped to his shoulders while he grunted against your ear, bouncing you off him and the truck's hood while he pulled you up and down his cock. 

“So fucking good Little One.” He bit your neck sharply while mummering the words, muffling his noises while he angled himself. Reaching between your bodies, he thrummed your clit expertly, causing your flutters to start clenching his pounding cock, until you shuddered around him, coming again while giving a cry into his shoulder, loosening your hold a bit tiredly and letting your body just go slack. But he didn't let you sink back, he crushed you tighter to his chest, his thrusts staggering with utmost goal in mind and when he painted your channel for the first time, the knot followed to keep his seed deep in you, small thrusts pushing him deeper till he stalled with a moan, licking where he bit you harshly to clean any blood dotting the mark before pulling back. His hold loosens a bit to rub up and down your back.

You to lift your head, purring while you pressed your lips to his, nuzzling your nose against his before brushing your face against his in a affectionate way, your hands sliding from where you grasped his biceps to smooth along his chest, lifting and lowering under his palm where he was breathing heavily. 

“Can I ride you next?” You asked heatedly, your mind still lust filled with desire to have him fill you with his seed again. Rubbing your body against his while moaning at the way his knot kept you stretched and stuffed with him. “We could probably sneak back home now.” 

Steve growled, placing nipping kisses along your face and then sucking on your neck. “Why do we have to go back home? Little One, that is exactly what truck beds are made for.” Circling his arms under your thighs and ass, he lifted you off the hood while you were still full of him, making you squeak in shock at the movement and tightening your legs around his waist to keep you in place while he carried you around to the back, making you giggle excitedly as he set you down on the edge, easing from you now that his knot loosened. You moved to crawl into the truck bed, him following along right behind you with grabbing hands and flipped to his back, pulling your thighs to straddle him. Instead of easing you down though, Steve pulled you up towards his face, licking his lips. 

“But you can only ride my cock after your ride my face Little One.” 

#the pack #alpha steve rogers #heated petals #amber writes #sweater writes #shifter #alpha steve rogers x little one #alpha steve rogers x you #steve rogers au #wolf steve rogers

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Persephone's Symphony | Day Two / Part One | Hades

Hey lovelies this isn't completely done (this chapter, I mean) but this was a good spot to post it because it's been a while and I'm proud of this part. The next part will be about the same length (I'm guessing) and will be the long awaited bathtub scene! enjoy, and sorry for how ramble-y this chapter is. It's on purpose LOL!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: PTSD in action on both parts, self-loathing

Word count: 2.7k

Previous | Next

Master List

Maybe saying yes is the wrong answer. It certainly goes against the protocol his commander explicitly told him to follow.

Stay inside, Barnes. Keep the curtains closed, limit the amount of lights on inside the house. Don’t let her out of your sight— not even for a second.

It was all basic, day one things that any rookie would know. Bucky is a lot of things but he isn’t a rookie— he’s been around the block his fair share of times and then some. Still, the last thing his commander had told him rings through his ears as he crosses the threshold of the Wilson’s family residence and feels the sun, warm and steady on his face— and on his one, good arm— for the first time in twenty-four hours.

Be a ghost, Barnes, or you might just become one; you understand me?

Bucky had answered yes, again— obviously. Maybe that’s just a thing he does; saying yes when he doesn’t know what else to say. Saying yes when he should be saying anything but.

But what?

But it’s not like it really matters— there was no other choice that time. He’s a soldier, he was given his orders, and— whether he likes it or not— Bucky always follows his orders.

The door creaks shut behind him, a little loud for his liking but the sound of the willow trees snapping in the yard are enough to drown it out for the most part— Well, Bucky always follows most of his orders.

That was also before everything went straight to hell, though— before no one thought to tell him that he's not dealing with a victim; he’s dealing with a survivor. Fucking military— he should have known they’d leave the important details out. They’ve been shoddy since the forties, always squirreling away information from the little guys. Eighty years later, one hundred and six years old, and he’s still a little guy. No closer to gaining an invite to the big kid table than he was at twenty-six when he still had two good arms. If anything he’s further away now, begging for scraps when there was once a point in his life where he at least had a seat somewhere.

With someone.

Nothing’s changed— nothing will change and he doesn’t expect it to— but this time there’s a difference.

There’s a big one.

It’s the canyon between grief and watching your family get slaughtered in front of you; the insurmountable jump from longing for those you’ve lost and having them ripped away from you so violently that you can’t function. Can’t sleep. Wake up scared. Jump away from every touch, every noise, like every shattered vase is out to personally kill you—

Why the fuck wouldn’t they tell him that the girl he’s supposed to be protecting has PTSD? He may be old— the term may be different now— in his day they used to call it shellshock— but it’s yet another thing that hasn’t changed. Nothing ever changes; not really— not for him.

Soldier.

Scientist.

Same fucking difference— the signs are still the same and she has all of them.

He would know— he should have known from the moment he walked through the door— they should have told him!

He saw the pictures. Saw the scarlet circles and lifeless eyes and blood. Fuck, there was so much blood and that was just a grainy photpgraph from a junky projector! He couldn’t smell it— couldn’t taste it— through the pictures but he has an imagination— well, what’s left of one at least. He can’t say he didn’t leave most of his creativity in those hills of Austria— gods only know he left most of everything else there— but even if he had left all of it he wouldn’t have to dig far for a memory of his own. They don’t tell you as a soldier that fresh blood smells like rotting honey— that it lingers in your clothes and hair and on your goddamn lips for hours.

Soldier.

Shooter.

Fucking psychopath with a gun and one arm and snow still shoved so far down his throat that he can’t breathe—

No, if they don’t bother telling their soldiers then there’s no way anyone thought to tell the cherry pie angel. They probably thought it would ruin her sweetness. They probably didn’t even think to tell her at all. Bucky definitely didn’t. He should have. If he had, maybe he would have been able to catch her before the flies ate through her wings completely. Maybe if he had just done his damn job instead of being sucked in by the sticky marmalade of her laughter then he would have seen the way she was melting right in front of his face. July in Brooklyn does that to a person.

It brings the flies to the cherry pie.

The flies to the rotting honey.

The flies to too fucking late— he had twenty-four hours and instead of doing something he just let her sink. Some guard dog he is.

Bucky watches as she gingerly sits on the edge of the white swing, her movements stiff, almost mechanical. She lifts her feet as soon as she’s down, toes hanging a good few inches off the ground as they curl around the thick bayou air, clenching and unclenching rhythmically. They never touch the bamboo mat and her eyes never lift from the shoreline— not even when he takes a couple measured steps towards her. It’s unnerving, to say the very least.

“We can’t stay out here too long.” Bucky isn’t used to speaking this quietly but it feels like if he doesn’t level his voice to match the whispering of the wind across the bulrushes then he’ll be hurting her more than he already has.

Her answer isn’t any louder than his— the only reason he even hears it at all is because he refuses to look away from her. He only hears her because his eyes are already on her lips, willing her to stop sinking her teeth into the soft flesh. Please, please, please stop—

“I just need a few minutes.”

Her eyes are wide and rimmed with red, toes continuing to work against the breeze with the same automatic movements. Clench. Unclench. Clench. Unclench. He doesn’t understand. It’s like she’s trying to work the feeling back into them— or maybe like she doesn’t know that she’s doing it at all. Hell, if the way her eyes have glassed over means anything then he would wager that there’s a good chance she doesn’t even fully know she’s outside. Yeah, that’s shellshock alright. Clench. Unclench. Clench. He doesn’t realize he’s copying her movements until his jaw aches.

Unclench.

“I know, doll. I—” He finally tears his gaze from her rigid figure— from her bruised lips— looking as well to the horizon. Maybe she’s on to something; maybe the waves will tell him how to help her— “I know.”

Can they tell him how to help himself? He shuffles forward again, stopping at the edge of the swing, gaze sweeping from the water to the barriers of the premise. Who is he kidding— of course they can’t. This isn’t about his salvation anymore. Those days have more than come and gone. Now it’s about hers— it’s about an assignment and keeping ten toes and ten fingers connected to two legs and two arms. Right now is about an order and Bucky Barnes can certainly follow orders— maybe that’s all he can do.

He gives the shaking girl who— despite everything— is swathed so prettily in the shade of the porch another once over.

Maybe but maybe not too.

Maybe he can’t follow orders at all.

Maybe he can’t afford to think about it for too long.

Because if he can’t follow orders then what can he do?

Bucky is still staring at her when she speaks again but her sudden words still make him jump nonetheless. “There’s room.” Her voice falters for a moment, lips hanging open and eyes faraway, before she continues. “If you want to sit, I mean. There’s room.”

He shouldn’t— he knows he shouldn’t, sitting isn’t a part of his orders— but he does. He couldn’t say no to her if he wanted to.

“Thanks.”

He definitely doesn’t want to say no to her.

“Sure.” Her voice is barely a hum— barely there at all— and he can’t choose whether to look at her lips or her fingers, which are now following suit.

Clench, unclench. Clench, unclench.

It’s an impossible decision— much like the ones from his days as a soldier— but it demands a choice from him nonetheless— unlike the ones from his days as a pawn. Her nails drag over the wood, snagging every so often, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Clench. Can she even feel him next to her? Back in the day— before that day— he used to watch his comrades do the same thing. He used to do the same thing. Sometimes he still does. He knows exactly what he would want someone to do for him.

He makes the choice for an impossible decision, wrapping his hand around hers until their fingers are laced together. “You can talk to me, if you want.”

It seems to work, if only marginally, because she stiffens for a moment, fingers flexing around his. Bucky can’t tell if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, the way she grips his hand so unsure of herself. Is she unsure of herself, though, or is she still lost somewhere in the depths of her mind, drowning in her rotten honey thoughts?

Her hand stills— an answer in itself— before her voice, slowed as though stopped by lips that have been glued shut, sounds. “Do you ever feel like you’re drowning?”

It’s not what he’s expecting but what else is new— neither was she and yet he’s here, listening to the moments they’re allowed to be outside— all of zero moments, that is— tick away as her toes clench and unclench.

Tick, tick, tick— what would his commander say.

“Yes.”

Steve used to ask him the same thing, Bucky adds silently, but only when they got older.

He supplies, “I think maybe that’s a part of being human.”

Tick, tick, tick— his commander wouldn’t say anything, he would just put Bucky on probation.

Still, he doesn’t rush her— he can’t. He won’t. She just told him she’s drowning; he’s not going to be the ocean to her frenzied attempts to stay afloat. He’ll just hold her hand, and keep looking over her shoulder, and then over his own, and when the time comes he’ll tell her they have to go, because that’s what she’s expecting. He would know— there have been times he’s wanted someone to do the same for him.

Tick, tick, tick— this is worth probation.

“I don’t think I like being human.” She hums back.

No, Bucky wants to say— no, I don’t either, doll.

Being human sucks and he’s not very good at it. He would know, he’s been a lot of things— been compared to a lot of things. Robot. Popsicle. Dog— yeah, he’s a real jack of all trades and so far human isn’t near the top of his ‘favourites’ list. Maybe that’s because if he wasn’t human then he wouldn’t be any of the other things either— maybe if he wasn’t human then he wouldn’t be so easily turned into a monster.

Tick, tick, tick— maybe.

Tick, tick, tick— have his thoughts always been so disorganized?

Tick, tick, tick— maybe it’s the shellshock.

Bucky doesn’t say any of that, of course.

What he does say is— “What would you like to be instead?” —as if he can make everything all better himself.

He can try, at least. He’s been compared to a slave too. Being hers doesn’t sound all that bad.

Thunder rolls over head and it sounds more like a grandfather clock— or the impatient tapping of his commander’s fingers— than anything Bucky’s ever heard. Still, he waits to move. Tick, tick, tick. He waits for a lot of things.

Bucky waits for the sky to turn grey— for the first droplets to mix with the salty bay air and blow against his neck and face.

It’s familiar, the sticky, salty rain, and he isn’t expecting it.

He isn’t expecting Delacroix to remind him so much of his own home in Brooklyn.

He isn’t expecting the way that sitting next to this soft creature feels so much like sitting on the docks with Steve the summer before his enlistment. Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning— Steve had said it at one hundred but he may as well have said it then, at eighteen, too. Because little did Bucky know, Steve had always felt a little bit like he was drowning and now Bucky, at one hundred and six, always feels a little bit like a bad friend.

Like a bad brother.

Like a bad dog— he should have scented it out all those years ago but instead he just waited.

Tick, tick, tick— all he does is wait.

Bucky waits for her to squeeze his hand once more— for her tiny fingers to alert him that she’s ready to move.

Maybe if Bucky had waited until Steve had told him that he was ready all those years ago then Steve would have waited for Bucky to be ready too. Because as he sits here, his skin turning swampy in the sticky, salty rain he realizes that no, he wasn’t ready for Steve Rogers to leave him behind.

He wasn’t ready to face the world alone.

He wasn’t even ready to face Brooklyn alone. Sometimes he still waits at the deli for him and orders the hero sandwich because even though he doesn’t like the absurd amount of pickles, Steve always had. Maybe if he eats enough— and waits long enough— then Steve will come back.

Tick, tick, tick— for a man who isn’t patient, Bucky Barnes sure does do a lot of waiting.

Bucky waits for her answer— because that’s what matters most. Not Steve’s wishes, not his commander’s impatient tapping, not even his own nostalgia that’s starting to make him, too, feel like he’s drowning. He used to love swimming in the Atlantic but when he licks his lips and tastes salt he’s sure it would take a miracle to get him to go in again. It would take a hundred years— or maybe just eighteen— and a push from a man who left Bucky almost as fast as Bucky had left him.

“I want to be a god—” she says it so suddenly that he jolts, eyes scanning their surroundings before realizing it’s just her determined, honey hollow voice sounding from next to him— “I want to be god— or invincible— or anyone but me, I think. I just don’t want to be me anymore. So yeah, I want to be a god.”

She still sounds so far away. Like she’s underwater— like Steve that time he wanted to see if Bucky could hear him scream from under the surf. He couldn’t but he told Steve he could. It doesn’t matter anymore— not right now. Only she does and her airy confession.

It makes Bucky’s heart clench and, as a reflex, so does his hand.

He releases the pressure accordingly— in his hand, not his heart— unclench— and as he does she adds— “and I want to take a bath.”

In that moment, despite his worry for her, he’s ecstatic she isn’t looking at him because if she had been then she would have seen the way his jaw drops. It takes him a moment to answer— a moment to pull himself out of the gutter his frozen-robot-dog brain drags him to— but he settles on one thought in surprisingly record time.

He can’t make her a god but he can sure as hell watch her back if she wants to take a bath.

He can’t make it all better but he can do that no problem.

So of course he stands, squeezing her hand one last time before saying, “okay, doll.”

Maybe Bucky is following orders after all. Maybe it’s a matter of choosing which— whose— orders to follow.

____________

Tag list: @xhollycowx @remembered-license @dumble-daddy @hellotvshowtrash @thesummerbucky @elijahs-wife @cari1bunny @im-just-star-dust @motherofallthesmallthings​ @hazardoushallucination​ @em-august @nuttytani @brown-eyed-babes @imaginearyparties

(message me if you want to be added / removed from the tag list -- I'll hold no resentment if you do LOL)

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bodyguard!bucky #bucky imagine #bucky fic #bucky angst #Persepone's Symphony #wow this took a month and it's trash LOL

[babbushka]

Hello my beautiful friend! I’m super emo about the “I’ve loved you all my life” from the friends to lovers list. Just picturing Clyde saying that to me? I’m dead. Love you so much! ✨❤️

11, The thought of Clyde coming in home sweaty during the summer after a hard day, his hair tied up, exhausted and needy?? PLEASEE 🧎‍♀️

(2.1k, fluff & NSFW (handjobs, fingering, come-shot, messy sloppy sweaty outdoor semi-nudity/indecent exposure lol)

When Clyde’s heavy footfalls creak onto the front porch, you have to throw a concerned glance at the clock hangin’ up on the wall. He’s ain’t even been here for an hour, you had just put down the big tray of ice cold lemonade and fresh made sandwiches, surely he can’t be leavin’ already?

You turn to look at him when he pats one of the support beams of your porch, and your heart races, because no no no, you’d just started to settle in and watch him cut your lawn, watch him get all sweaty and glistening in the sun, you don’t want him to go yet.

“All finished darlin’.” His deep voice is shy as he pulls the trucker cap off his head, runs his fingers through his hair. He’s smilin’, and you don’t know why, when him bein’ finished means he’s leavin’.

“Wait really? Already?” You protest just about right away, and that smile only grows wider, more confident. It’s a good look on him, on Clyde, a real good look.

“It’s real hot out there today, I figured I’d finish up quick as I can so…” Clyde shrugs, looks away and scratches the back of his neck.

“So?” You encourage, unprepared for the heat behind his eyes when he replies,

“So I could come over here and be with you.”

Clyde has been mowin’ your lawn ever since y’all were teenagers. You two were childhood best friends and you’re pretty sure that Clyde’s the only boy you’ve ever held onto after all these years. All the other ones turned into asshole preteens and even meaner adults, so slowly one by one you cut them out of your life, blamin’ growin’ apart. You and Clyde never grew apart, and in fact, the years have been good to y’all, made you grow together instead.

It’s been about fifteen years since he started comin’ over on Sunday mornings, strikin’ up a deal with your folks to mow your lawn for some honest cash. Especially after the stint in juvie, Clyde felt it was the most important thing in the world to prove to them he was a decent man, one worthy of spendin’ your time with.

Even when you moved out of your parents’ house and got a little home of your own – a home closer to Clyde’s own trailer no less – he kept comin’ to cut your lawn. He stopped acceptin’ your money, and instead traded that for payment of lunch.

But recently…he ain’t even been eatin’ your lunch. Just a glass of lemonade and then back home he would go, these past few weeks. It had started to break your heart, why he was actin’ so strange, so distant. Clyde ain’t distant now, not with how he’s standing on your porch.

“You look thirsty.” You swallow around a suddenly dry throat of your own, blinkin’ real fast when he clears his throat and nods.

“I’m parched, baby.” Clyde replies, and something, something about that does something to you. It gets your hopes up, gets your heart racin’, because he’d called you a lot of thing over the years, but never that.

“Call me baby again.” You say, standin’ up from the porch swing, taking a step closer to him.

Clyde follows you, takes the invitation and strides across the porch until he’s merely inches from your face.

“Baby,” Clyde presses his good hand up to your cheek, rubs his thumb along the ridge of your cheekbone, “Baby girl. You’re so beautiful.”

“Am I dreamin’?” You blurt out, but Clyde only chuckles, the most handsome sound in the world.

He kisses you, instead of answering.

You had thought a million times, about what it would be like to kiss Clyde, and none of them ever could’ve amounted up to this; to the sweet salty tang of sweat on his tongue, his goatee soaked through and scratching against your smile, his eyelashes brushing against your cheek where his eyes are closed, his arms wrapped around you tight.

He makes the softest sweetest sounds when he kisses you, grunts and groans low in his throat as he backs you up up up against the wall of your house. Your arms have wound themselves around his neck, and you could cry – maybe you are crying – because if this is a dream, well it’s one you don’t ever want to wake up from.

“Touch me.” You demand, because you’ve wanted to say it for so long, and he’s quick, so quick to oblige.

Clyde hikes up your breezy skirt enough so that he can shove his hand underneath your panties, and he groans when he finds your pussy already slick, already wet and wantin’ him. Of course it wanted him, all of you did, have been for the past however many years you’ve been pinin’ for him.

One of your legs immediately lifts to hook around his waist, and he swallows your moans when those fingers of his wriggle between your folds and push up into your cunt, your head thudding back against the wall. He sucks on the expanse of your throat, bites and bruises it.  

“Ah – ah, Clyde, oh that feels good.” You breathe, careful not to be too loud. You’re outside, right there on the front porch, and even though you got some pretty trees to shade the house and give some cover, ain’t nothin’ was there to stop the noises y’all made.

“Damn darlin’, I wish…wish I had both hands to touch ya with.” Clyde kisses you with a frown, his hips rutting against your thigh.

“That’s okay, shh, it’s okay let me, can I…?” You don’t even think about it before you’re poppin’ open the buttons on his jeans, wantin’ to get your hands on him the same way you’ve imagined every night.

Clyde nods, so eager, lickin’ his lips and suckin’ the sweat off your cheek when it rolls down to your jaw. You pull out his cock and damn it’s big, even bigger than you imagined, you feel dizzy, feel overheated, overwhelmed in the best possible way.

Spitting into your palm, you slick up his cock and stroke him up and down up and down, firm grip twisting right at the head and makin’ his knees buckle. He braces himself against you, moves his fingers in time with yours, rubs lazy circles at your clit and crooks three of his huge fingers inside you, searchin’ for that spot he knows will make you come.

“That’s real good baby, y-you can go faster if you’d like.” Clyde kisses you and kisses you and kisses you, and you gasp and moan and sigh around his tongue, mindful of the noise, but consumed with pleasure. He’s smelly, covered in bits of grass and sweat, and you wouldn’t trade it for anythin’ in the whole world.

“I’m burnin’ up in this thing Clyde I-I’m gonna take it off.” You pant, your blouse stiflin’ from the lack of breeze.

Clyde does pause then, making you whine loud enough for him to smile at you and keep goin’ real slow.

“Out here?” He asks, lookin’ around. The big trees block the view from the neighbors, but that don’t mean no one could drive by, or walk their dogs, or or or --

“Uh-huh, would you like that? Wanna see my tits in the sunshine?” You bite your lip, bat your lashes at him, wantin’ him so desperately. You don’t know if a chance like this will ever come again, you don’t know when you’ll wake up from this dream, you want to take advantage of it while it’s here.

“Anyone could see, anyone could look and see you.” Clyde nods anyway, and his eyes go wide as dinner plates when you swiftly undo all the little buttons, down to where your blouse is tucked into the skirt that Clyde’s got his hand shoved up under. Your bra is front-claspin’, and you undo that too, until your breasts are exposed fully for him.

“Then you’re gonna have to cover me big bear, cover me – yes!” Your eyes fall shut and your mouth drops open, grindin’ your hips down onto his hand.

“Ohh fuck,” Clyde’s fingers up your pussy fuck you a little harder, a little faster, and you grin, wrappin’ your hand around his cock once again and matching his rhythm stroke for stroke.

You’re both so sweaty that you have to constantly readjust yourselves against the wall of your house so that you don’t go slippin’ and slidin’ down. Clyde looks like he’s almost in pain, so overwhelmed with the way you feel, how your pussy clenches and drips and drools all over his hand, his wrist.

He sucks and kisses at your breasts, licks up the sweat that runs between them, your nipples so sensitive and stiff when he tugs them between his teeth. You want him to fuck you properly, want him to shove that cock of his into your pussy and fuck you on the wooden floor of the porch right there, but he grunts and sighs and groans, pressin’ his body as close against yours as he can.

“I’m gonna come,” He whines, not wantin’ it to be over just as much as you, not wantin’ this to end.

“On me, I want it on me, all over. Please give it to me, please?” You beg, soft gentle whimpers as you hike your leg up higher higher higher, until it’s slung over his shoulder, your body stretched out all over.

He nods frantically, before he lets out a shaky moan and paints your tits with his come. It’s hot and sticky, landing on your skin in thick ropes. Your hand that isn’t around his cock leaves Clyde’s hair and rubs through it, smears it into your flesh, across your stomach, over your tits. He has a big load, comes some more, it hits your chin, and you swipe it up with your fingers, sucking the taste of it away.

“A-are you close?” Clyde blinks the sweat out of his eyes, rubs harder, faster, thrusts and presses and pinches and rolls and your lids are snappin’ open just in time to watch him stare love-sick at you, big brown eyes.

“Yes, yes I’m – oh I’m – !!” You come and it feels like your body is on fire, a hot wire snapped up, pulled real taut, before you’re meltin’ into his arms, chest heavin’, pantin’ out words that you never thought you’d get to say in a million years, “I love you, Clyde – fuck I love you!”

All at once, he goes real still.

“What?” Clyde blinks, lookin’ like he’s been struck by lightnin’.

He carefully, gently, lowers the leg that’s been thrown over his shoulder.

“I’ve loved you all my life.” You’re still blissed out, still on cloud nine, have no qualms about bein’ truthful, not with your Clyde, not when now you ain’t so sure this isn’t a dream. “Surely…well surely you knew that.”

“I…no I – ” He stammers and stutters and the cold drip of rejection begins to fill you with dread.

“Shit, I’m sorry I – ” You’re painfully aware of the way you’re both standin’ there on your front porch, your tits out and his dick out, covered in come and sweat and you feel like you’ve just royally monumentally ruined everythin’, until he looks at you.

Really looks at you.

“I love you too.” Clyde confesses, and suddenly it’s as if all the fear in the world leaves at once.

“You do?” You whisper, searchin’ his gaze and findin’ only honesty.

Clyde smiles, one of those rare smiles o’his, and tucks your blouse back into place, puts his dick away and buttons himself up.

“Why d’ya think I kept agreein’ to cut your lawn?” Clyde asks softly, so quietly, and you’re slammed with the realization that maybe…maybe he’s loved you for just as long.

“Thought I made real good lemonade, that’s all.” You reply, and the two of you laugh, because damn, how could love make y’all so blind? With the glow of orgasm fading, and the reality of this bein’ real life setting in, you reach for Clyde’s hand askin’, “What do you suppose we do now?”

“I don’t know about you darlin’, but I’m in sore need of a shower.” He says, smilin’ at you and makin’ you smile right back, before squeezin’ your hand and sighin’ real content-like, “And after that…let me love on you some more, and make up for lost time.”

You kiss him, and he kisses you back, until you’re pullin’ him into your house and up through to your bathroom, more glad than you’ve ever been that he finished cuttin’ your lawn early.

#clyde logan #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan x you #clyde logan/reader #clyde logan/you #logan lucky #adam driver fanfiction #adam driver character #clyde logan smut #clyde logan imagine

[domesticdeanwinchester]

i know the rain like the clouds know the sky

read it on ao3 or below // 1.7k words

It must have rained last night, or maybe very early this morning.

Either way the sky is a cloudy kind of grey. Overcast with those darklight smudges of stratocumulus. It isn't ominous, though, the clouds. They're calm in the sky. Peaceful.

Peace. It isn't a feeling Dean's very used to, the last two decades of his life being the chaotic, apocalyptic, traumatic mess that they were.

But the last couple of months... they've been his first real taste of that. Of the calm after the storm. Of easy days, of settling down and moving slow, of being worry-free. Well, relatively worry-free. There may not be any big bads looming over them and the last of the apocalypses may be behind them, but he's still got a husband with a rebellious streak a mile wide, a brother and a sister-in-law who both encourage it far more than they should (and can get into a fair amount of trouble themselves too), and a once-capital-G-god-turned-four-year-old-toddler to take care of and keep entertained. So yeah, maybe not entirely worry-free.

It's good though. It's really good. For the first time in Dean's life, he's at peace with it. He's happy.

Dean stares out at the sky through the kitchen window as he waits for the coffee to brew, letting himself get lost in the matching clouds of his mind.

The staccatoed hiss of coffee dripping draws him back to the kitchen, and he watches as the drip turns steady and the pot starts to fill. When the stream comes to a stuttering stop, Dean waits for the last hesitating drop to fall from the nozzle. Once it does, he removes the pot and pours himself a cup — this chipped old thing that reads "I never dreamed I'd be a grumpy 70 year old man but here I am killin' it", with the "grumpy 70 year old man" bit in big red letters, that Claire got him as a joke, but that he secretly loves. There's still plenty of joe left, so he replaces the pot and leaves it for Castiel, knowing it won't be too long before he's up too to claim it for himself.

Dean cradles the mug in one hand and pulls his dead-guy robe tighter around his body with the other, ambling towards the back door. He slides it open and takes the mug out onto the porch.

The morning air is crisp, cool and a little bit biting, but he likes the slight sting. There's still a hint of a mist to it, too, that makes Dean think that more rain isn't too far off. It smells like the rain, like fresh earth and a hint of that residual lightning storm ozone smell that reminds him so much of Castiel.

He stands at the railing, wiggling his toes in his toasty slippers, holding the mug between both hands. It's warm against his palms, and he brings it to his lips to take a sip, letting that warmth trickle down his throat, settle in his belly, and bloom throughout the rest of him.

It's quiet outside, only the soft wisp of the breeze moving through the trees to keep him company. The rest of the world still slumbers on.

Eventually the back door creaks behind him, and the wood of the deck groans a little beneath footsteps. Dean doesn't have to turn around to know it's Castiel joining him.

A pair of strong arms slide around his waist, and Castiel hugs him from behind, pressing his warm cheek to Dean's shoulder. Castiel brings his lips to kiss the point of his shoulder blade, and even through the material of the robe Dean can feel it.

"Thought I'd find you out here," Castiel murmurs. "It's cold," he adds, burrowing closer.

Dean shifts back against Castiel, nuzzling into his hug as best he can. "I like it," he says.

"Mm, of course you do," Castiel says.

They fall into a companionable silence after that, just the quiet sounds of the world around them and their steady breathing filling the space between them.

"Come inside?" Castiel asks after a moment.

"I will," Dean answers. He doesn't move, though.

"Are you okay?" Castiel asks gently, shifting from pressing against Dean's back to burrowing into his side.

Dean doesn't answer right away this time. Instead lets the question settle, lets it bleed into his bones. He watches as a bird takes flight from a branch of one of the trees, sees the light breeze make the small patch of grass dance, admires the still surface of the lake in the distance. He thinks of Castiel, living and breathing right behind him, thinks of Jack, young for the first time in his life tucked away in the racecar bed he'd begged for with his worn in stuffed bee cuddled close, thinks of Sam and Eileen and brand new baby Maura probably starting their morning too all those miles away.

A faint smile pulls at the corner of Dean's mouth. "Yeah, I am," he tells Castiel, and he means it. He really really means it. He pulls his gaze from the lake and turns in Castiel's arms to look at him head on, to meet his eyes and hold his gaze. "I am."

A small smile graces Castiel's lips, and they just kind of stare at each other for a moment before he brings a hand up to Dean's cheek. His palm ghosts over it before settling against his jaw, cupping it softly. "Good," he says, then leans in to kiss Dean's cheek.

They stay like that for a few beats longer before Castiel runs his thumb over the arc of Dean's cheekbone. "I'm going to go back inside," Castiel says, trailing his fingertips over Dean's chip before letting his hand fall back to his side. "It's too cold out here," he adds, scrunching up his nose in a way that pulls a fond chuckle from Dean.

"Yeah yeah, go inside ya big ice cube," Dean says, rolling his eyes and turning back towards the porch railing.

"Don't be too long," Castiel tells him, moving towards the door.

"I won't," Dean assures, and takes another sip of coffee. "There's more in the pot for you, should still be warm," he adds, lifting his mug in reference.

Castiel smiles. "Thank you," he says, reaching for the handle. He opens the door halfway, then pauses. "When you come in we should make pancakes. Jack will like that."

It's Dean's turn to smile as a memory of the last time he'd made pancakes filters to the surface. Jack had been asleep that time too, but when he followed his nose into the kitchen to find Dean behind the stove, flipping a pancake the size of Jack's head he'd been so excited. And so amazed too, by how many different kinds of pancakes Dean had whipped up — chocolate chip, blueberry, cinnamon sugar. He'd even tried out a special new recipe, with fresh honey and vanilla. Jack insisted on assisting with the remaining batter, eager and insistent on helping Dean when it got time to flip the pancakes. All the flavors had been a hit, and Jack had been gleeful all morning — a sticky, syrupy, chocolatey mess, but a very happy one nonetheless.

Based on the look on Castiel's face, Dean figures he must be remembering that morning too.

"Yeah, okay," Dean agrees, giving a nod. "I'll be in soon," he promises.

Castiel nods and disappears back inside.

Dean will follow shortly, he will. He'll head back inside and he and Castiel will make stacks upon stacks of pancakes, and maybe one of them will go wake Jack, or maybe Jack will come find them laughing together over the half cooked, half gloopy pancake Castiel accidentally flipped out of the pan and onto the stove. They'll dig into their breakfast with Jack, sitting around their little table together. And later he'll call Sammy. Ask how Maura is. How Eileen is. Maybe they'll video call, and Jack will steal the phone and hold it way too close to his face, and he'll show Sam the new space in his mouth where he'd just lost his tooth. It might rain again, and if it does Jack will want to put on his ladybug rain boots and his new froggy rain hat and jump around in the puddles. They'll bundle up for it, and Dean might indulge his inner child too and jump around in the puddles with him. Castiel will watch from the porch with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and he'll disappear back into the house just before Dean and Jack decide to come inside to start up a batch of hot chocolate. All three of them will curl up on the couch and put a movie on. Jack will fall asleep halfway through, tired out from his day in the rain despite the sugary treat afterwards. There will be a chocolate mustache still on his lip, and Castiel will try to gently wipe it away without waking him. He'll curl into Dean's side after, right under his arm, pulling the thick knit blanket tighter around them, and Dean will kiss the top of Castiel's hair. They'll fall asleep like that, too, until Jack wakes them up rejuvenated from his nap and ready for something new. In the evening Dean will make butternut squash soup — one of Castiel's favorites, and they'll eat it with freshly baked crusty bread and some warm apple cider to boot. He and Castiel will tag team giving Jack a bath — he'll beg for bubbles and they'll indulge him, of course — and once he's wrapped up in his favorite pajamas they'll tuck him into his bed and Dean will read him two stories and then Castiel will read a third, and they'll both kiss him on the forehead and say goodnight. Dean and Castiel will take a hot shower together, no fooling around, just the warmth of the spray and their gentle hands on each other's skin, washing, cleaning, touching. They'll dry off and dress in their pajamas, then they too will climb into bed. That night, as another bout of rain pebbles soothingly against the window, they'll drift off beneath three blankets with Castiel curled around Dean. And in the morning, they'll do it all again.

But that will all come later.

For now Dean revels in the peace.

#destiel #deancas #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #castiel #jack kline #toddler!jack #destiel fic #spn fic #deancas fic

[duamuteffe]

Thoughts on Halloween? Do you celebrate? Any fun traditions for you and the doc?

I love Halloween SO MUCH, omg. You have unleashed a torrent of stories, I apologize in advance.

So my Mom's mom, who we called Bummy, was an amazing seamstress. She had started at seven (so, 1935) on a Singer treadle machine helping her mother make clothes out of flour sacks for her seven siblings, and by the time us grandkids came along there was nothing she couldn't sew. She could look at a garment and figure out a pattern, or make one up out of her imagination, and this translated into the best Halloween costumes of all time. When I was a toddler she made costumes for me that she thought would be cute; a bee, a Care Bear, a strawberry. Once we were older she'd ask my brother and I in June what we wanted to be for Halloween and by October (after numerous fittings and fussings :) it would be done. I was a wizard with beard and robes and a glowing crystal ball, I was the Phantom of the Opera with an ankle-length cape, I was a cat with velvet ears and paws and tail and a shiny blue alien with deely boppers and extra hands. My brother was a cloaked Death with ragged robes, a fishman with trailing seaweed, a futuristic astronaut with a silver spacesuit. If we didn't have a preference, she'd decide for us; she had always loved the style of kimonos and obis so she managed to make a gorgeous and very reasonable facsimile of a garment she had never seen in person, only in National Geographics, and made me a geisha one year. (Note - was this cultural appropriation? Yes. Did I know that at 14 in 1993? No, I did not, and neither did she. Rest assured that while my love for Geisha and Maiko remains undimmed, I wouldn't do it again because I know better now. But as a demonstration of her talent that outfit was beautiful.)

Trick-or-Treating in my small neighborhood was fun, although I was very shy so it could be a little nerve-wracking. Several houses had adults who also had their elderly parents living with them, so all visiting kids would be ushered in to the living room so the old people could exclaim over our costumes. ("Oh, look, how nice! Who are you being this year?" even when the child in question had a store-bought Batman costume that was a mask and a plastic poncho that said "Batman" across it :) We usually got an even mix of store-bought candy and homemade treats because it was a very poor county; popcorn balls, rice crispy treats, little bags of cookies, no-bakes that were so good we always tried going back at least once to see if the lady of the house had forgotten she'd given us some already, store bought apples, and, from the lovely but very poor lady who lived up past the end of our street, apples from her tree out back. Since there were only about a dozen houses in my town (out of fifteen total, plus three or four camps) that gave out candy, sometimes one or more of the moms would pack local kids in cars and either go across the river or up the road to the slightly larger towns so we got more candy. My folks would ration it out to us over the next few days so we didn't overload on it and get sick.

Once you hit your mid teens you either stayed at home to give out candy and attempt to terrify incoming children with spooky setups or go out egging other roving bands of teens. I always went with giving out candy because I hate being sticky. We had a great setup one year were my brother wore his Death costume and slumped in a chair looking like a dummy and holding a bowl of candy in his lap. We replaced the porch light with a blacklight bulb and put the cats in the attic so we could leave the back door open and played this exact cassette tape on the stereo:

Kids would sneak up the porch stairs and peek into the living room, and, seeing the supposed dummy, would creep towards it. When they reached for the candy my brother would shove it towards them and growl, and they'd scream and run back outside, where I would catch them and tell them it was fine and herd them back inside so they could grab some candy. The kids were usually fine once the shock had passed, but some of the moms were so scared I couldn't get them to go back inside, which was always hilarious.

When I moved up north, the farm was too far from the town for trick or treaters, sadly, and when I came back home I was in a second-floor apartment for 14 years so no trick or treaters there, either, which was a great disappointment. But once we moved to the trailer I could finally start decorating and handing out treats the way I have always wanted to:

With a whole cemetery and a big bowl of goofy toys and glowsticks and candy. (Reminds me, I need to get ordering this years' round of toys and glowsticks. We almost always run out of glowy things.)

Incidentally the Doc and I are ADF Druids, so Halloween is also Samhain, the day when the barriers between us and the Next World are the thinnest, and we think of the Ancestors who have gone ahead of us and make offerings to them. Our yearly offering is the giving of treats and toys and a bit of scares to children, the way our folks and grandparents and local old folks did for us as kids, in the hopes that those kids will have happy memories of the holiday the way we do.

#life in the duamuteffe household #after the hours for passing out candy are over we get dressed up in costumes and go out for dinner #because wandering around as a steampunk airship pilot (him) #and a burlesque wolfgirl (me) is super fun

[set-phasers-to-whump]

the snow isn’t all that cold if you’ve got someone to hold

prompt: freezing (leftover from yesterday, used as kind of an alt prompt)

whumpee: eddie diaz

fandom: 911

hi! this fic is technically for day 1 i guess, but there are a couple days this month where neither prompt is really my thing so in those cases i will be using a prompt from a different day. there will still be 30 days of whump, but not 30 separate pairs of prompts used! anyway this fic is a bit softer and fluffier than my usual stuff but there is still whump! it’s just more gentle i guess lol. that’s just how it happened. i hope you enjoy! (title from heater by little car)

Buck opens the front door of the little cabin and steps aside to let Chris enter first. Chris walks inside, looks around for a split second, and promptly makes a beeline for the bedroom he’d claimed as ‘his’ the second he’d seen it on the website. 

“Buck, come see!” he calls excitedly, and Buck smiles to himself and follows Chris inside, glancing briefly back at Eddie, who is struggling up the path with the bags that he’d insisted upon carrying inside himself. 

“Look at that lamp!” Chris says, pointing to a bear-shaped lamp sitting atop the bedside table. He turns to Buck, smiling so widely that Buck thinks it must hurt his face. “This is gonna be the coolest weekend ever,” he continues, and Buck nods in agreement.

“What do you wanna do first, Superman?” he asks, and Chris shakes his head. 

“Buck, I gotta read my book for that,” he says, very seriously. The front door slams shut, and Chris immediately calls out to Eddie: “Dad! I need my book.”

Eddie comes into the room a second later with Chris’ bag, his beloved Guide to Sequoia National Park sticking out from one of the side pockets. 

“Thanks!” Chris says, grabbing the book and sinking down onto the bed. He flips it open and begins studying it intently, paying no mind to the other two people in the room. 

Buck and Eddie therefore leave Chris to it and step out into the living room to grab their own bags, which Eddie had evidently simply dropped in the middle of the floor as soon as he’d gotten inside. Buck sets his bag down next to the couch and flops down onto it.

“Buck, are you sure- ” Before Eddie can finish his sentence, Buck interrupts him with a stern glare. 

“Eds, I already claimed the couch, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“But- ”

Buck shakes his head, and Eddie, apparently sensing that this is a fight he is not going to win, flings his bag over his shoulder and makes his way to the cabin’s other bedroom, muttering something about at least flipping a coin for it. Not that Buck would’ve let that happen. He already can’t help feeling a bit like he is overstepping, although both Chris and Eddie had absolutely insisted that he come on this little trip with them, and there’s no way in hell he’s stealing the only other bed in the house from his best friend. So the couch it is. 

It’s silent in the cabin for a few minutes, until Chris comes out of his room and sits on the couch next to Buck, guidebook in hand. 

“Buck, I can’t decide which thing we should do first,” he says miserably, extending the book. Buck takes it and flips it open, looking through messily highlighted passages and various sticky notes covered in the handwriting of himself and both of the Diazes. 

“What about this?” Buck suggests, pointing to a picture of a person standing underneath a tunnel in the roots of a massive tree. 

Chris makes a noncommittal sound, so Buck continues looking through the book. Chris leans into his side and looks along with him, occasionally pointing out things he thinks are contenders for their first activity tomorrow. 

Eddie startles them both when he comes into the room, and he chuckles softly as they both turn to look at him. “I’m gonna go find some wood so we can have a fire tonight,” he says. “Sunset’s in about an hour and it’s supposed to get pretty chilly.”

Chris nods in agreement and asks if they can make hot chocolate later, to which Buck and Eddie simultaneously reply yes; and Buck jokingly tells Eddie to be careful with the ax (which is about half the size of the one they regularly use in the field), and then Eddie heads out into the forest and Chris and Buck return to their very important activity of scouring the guidebook. 

About twenty minutes pass pleasantly, with Buck and Chris slowly figuring out their plan of attack for the two days ahead. Then Chris looks up from the book and gasps. 

“Buck! Look, it’s snowing!”

Buck turns to look out the window, and sure enough, snow is pouring down from the sky. “That’s weird,” he says, half to himself. “It wasn’t supposed to snow this weekend.”

Chris suddenly looks very concerned. “Will we still be able to go and see the trees?”

“I think so,” Buck says reassuringly. He can’t imagine that this snow is going to last very long. He’d done a lot of research into the weather up here in the past couple weeks, and it’s really not supposed to snow this early into November. He figures that this snow will probably melt by midday tomorrow, which should still let them do everything that they’re planning on doing. 

“Good,” Chris says, and then he gets up and looks out the window, leaning against the pane, breath fogging up the glass. Buck wonders if he’s ever seen snow before, and he’s about to ask whether Chris would like to go outside and see it when he thinks of Eddie, and decides to shoot him a quick text to see whether he’s almost done with gathering wood. 

Eddie’s phone dings on the kitchen counter, and Buck sighs. He looks back out the window, where the snow is beginning to fall harder. It’s already a couple inches deep, he can tell, and Eddie hadn’t been wearing a coat when he’d gone out. He gives Eddie two minutes, in case he’s on his way back, and then starts putting on his own coat and the snow boots that he’d brought, just in case. 

“Are you going to get Daddy?” Chris asks, moving to stand next to Buck. He sounds a little worried, and Buck puts a soft hand atop his hair. 

“Yep, and then we can spend all evening with a nice, warm fire and some hot cocoa and maybe even a movie,” Buck says, zipping up his jacket. “In the meantime, why don’t you keep looking through your book and see if there’s anything we can do that’s inside.”

Chris nods and makes his way back to the couch, and Buck steps outside onto the front porch.

It’s cold. Really cold. Buck tries not to think about all of the many terrible things that could’ve happened to Eddie in the twenty minutes that he’s been gone as he makes his way out into the snow, calling out Eddie’s name. 

He walks for maybe ten minutes, slowly circling outwards from the front door of the cabin, continually calling for Eddie. The sun is starting to set, and the snow is falling faster still, and he is really trying not to panic now. He’s about to get out his phone and call 911 when he hears a voice, faint but unmistakably Eddie’s. 

“Hold on, Eddie, I’m coming!” he shouts, and hurries off in the direction of Eddie’s voice as fast as he can. 

He skids to a stop in front of Eddie, barely managing to stay on his feet as he hits an especially slippery patch of snow. “You okay?” he asks, even though Eddie is clearly freezing his ass off and definitely not okay.

“Slipped,” Eddie says, through chattering teeth. “Not hurt, don’t think, but it was too slippery. Couldn’t get back up.”

Buck can see how that might’ve happened. “I almost slipped too,” he says. “Lucky I didn’t, or we’d both be stuck out here.”

Eddie gives a soft laugh, then sucks in a sharp breath. “‘M really cold, Buck,” he says.

“I know,” Buck replies, carefully bending over and grabbing Eddie underneath his arms. “We’re gonna get you back to the cabin and warm you up as soon as we can, I promise.” He hauls Eddie to his feet, keeping an arm firmly wrapped around him to stop him from slipping again. This close together, he can hear Eddie’s teeth chattering, can feel the coldness of his skin and his clothes. Buck unzips his jacket and maneuvers his way out of it without letting go of Eddie, then tugs the jacket securely around Eddie’s shoulders, guiding his shaking arms into the sleeves and zipping it up. 

“‘S nice,” Eddie whispers, leaning a little more heavily into Buck.

“I bet,” Buck says, sympathetically. “But try not to lean on me too much, okay? The last thing we need is to both end up on our asses in the snow.”

Eddie nods and pulls away slightly, and then the two begin a very slow, very careful trek back to the cabin. 

Halfway there, the sun dips completely below the horizon, and the temperature feels like it drops another ten degrees. Eddie starts shivering harder, despite Buck’s jacket, and Buck throws caution to the wind and pulls Eddie closer, taking smaller steps and shining his phone’s flashlight onto the ground ahead of them.

“Is Chris okay?” Eddie asks, suddenly, stopping in his tracks and nearly causing the both of them to fall. 

“He’s okay,” Buck says, gently pulling him along. “He’s looking through his guidebook and finding some things to do indoors tomorrow, if this snow doesn’t let up.”

This answer seems to satisfy Eddie, who lapses into silence as they walk along through the snow. 

“Look, there’s the cabin,” Buck says, gesturing to its lights glowing through the darkness, even though he knows Eddie can’t see his hand. “We’re almost there.”

Eddie only hums in response, and Buck tugs him along a little faster, very anxious to get him inside and warmed up before this cold does any real damage.

A minute later, they’re stumbling through the front door, dripping melting snow onto the floor. Chris hurries up from the couch, guidebook tumbling to the floor. “Dad!”

Eddie turns to look at Chris, and Buck can see him trying to act okay for his son, but he’s shaking so hard that Buck doubts Chris is buying it for a second. 

“Is he okay?” Chris asks Buck, and Buck so desperately wants to wrap him in a hug and tell him that yes, Eddie’s going to be okay, but that would mean letting go of Eddie, which is not an option at the moment, so he settles for a nod instead. “Your dad’s going to be just fine,” he promises. “But he’s really cold right now, so I need to go and get him warmed up. And you know what he’s going to need most of all?”

Chris shakes his head. 

“He’s going to need to curl up on the couch with you and me and some hot chocolate and a movie. So, while we’re gone, we need you to pick out a good movie to watch, okay?”

Chris nods and adds, “I think maybe we need some blankets, too. Should I find some?”

“Yeah, buddy, that would be perfect,” Buck says, smiling. Chris smiles back, then steels his face into a look of pure determination and sets about on his very important task of finding blankets and picking a movie. 

Meanwhile, Buck leads Eddie into the bathroom and turns on the shower. He starts it off at a lukewarm temperature, not wanting to shock Eddie’s system by forcing him under hot water immediately. While the water warms up, he helps Eddie out of his freezing clothes and tries not to think about how much worse their situation could be right now if he hadn’t found Eddie when he did. 

Once the shower heats up, Buck opens the door and Eddie steps inside, flinching back as the warm water hits his freezing-cold skin. 

“Is it too hot?” Buck asks, but Eddie shakes his head. “Nice,” he says. 

“Once you feel like you’re used to that temperature, you can start warming it up in small increments,” Buck directs. “In the meantime, I’m going to get you some warm clothes and a towel, but you just yell if you need me, okay?”

“Kay,” Eddie agrees, and with that, Buck heads out of the bathroom. 

He takes a quick glance into the living room, where Chris sits on the couch, surrounded by at least five blankets. He’s flicking through movies on the TV with intense concentration, and Buck smiles at the back of his head. God, he loves this kid. 

He then gets back to his task and heads into Eddie’s room, where he locates Eddie’s bag and digs out his pajamas, which consist of a threadbare white t-shirt and a pair of flannel pants. He’s got a sweatshirt at the bottom of the bag, but Buck decides to go back out into the living room and grab one of his own sweatshirts instead. It’ll be bigger and hopefully cozier than Eddie’s own (not to mention the fact that he’s been wanting to give Eddie one of his sweatshirts for...too long). 

“How is he?” Chris asks, while Buck is digging through his bag. 

“He’s taking a nice warm shower right now,” Buck says, tugging his sweatshirt free of his other clothes. “Then we’ll come and join you out here with -” he looks up at the TV, where Chris has chosen the movie Frozen. He laughs out loud, and Chris giggles. “With Frozen, and I’ll make us some hot cocoa, and we’ll get nice and warmed up.”

“Okay,” Chris agrees. Buck makes his way back to the bathroom with the clothes in hand, stopping along the way to grab a towel from the linen closet. He throws all of the items into the cabin’s little dryer and lets them spin for a few minutes, during which time he checks up on Eddie, who seems to be shivering considerably less under the now-steaming water. 

When the clothes and towel are nicely warmed up, Buck brings them back into the bathroom. “You might wanna get out now before these all cool down again,” he suggests, and Eddie reaches up to turn off the water. His hand trembles a little, but for the most part he looks quite a bit steadier, and Buck breathes a sigh of relief. Eddie’s really going to be fine. 

He gives Eddie some privacy to dry off, and a few minutes later, he emerges from the bathroom, hair still wet, the sleeves of Buck’s sweatshirt covering his hands, which hold onto the damp towel. Buck takes it from him and uses it to dry off Eddie’s hair a bit better than Eddie had managed to do. It sticks up from his head when he’s done, and makes him look way cuter than Buck thinks he has any right to. He quickly squashes down that thought and hangs the towel up in the bathroom, then tells Eddie to go sit down on the couch while he makes some hot chocolate. 

Buck watches Eddie walk slowly out to the living room, and hears him laugh softly at Chris’ choice of movie. He smiles to himself, wonders briefly how in the hell he had gotten so lucky as to have these two wonderful people in his life, then gets busy making some hot chocolate. While he stirs the milk in the pan, he thinks about what they’re going to do if their activities end up being impossible due to the snow. He knows Chris might complain for a moment, then accept whatever fate they’re handed, but they had spent a lot of time planning this trip, and Chris had been so excited to come and see the trees he’d learned so much about in school, and he can’t let the kid miss out on that. Privately, he resolves to bring the Diazes back to the park in the summer, when they can be assured it’s not going to snow. 

Buck finishes up the hot chocolate and distributes it across three large mugs, which he balances precariously in his arms as he makes his way into the living room. He sets the steaming mugs carefully onto the coffee table, pulling it closer to the couch so that Chris can easily reach it, then sits down on the couch with Chris and Eddie. Chris is curled into Eddie's left side, a large blanket covering them both. Eddie’s still shivering a bit, but there’s a tinge of pink returning to his face, and he turns and smiles at Buck when he sits down on Eddie’s other side. 

“How you feeling?” Buck asks softly, as Chris presses play on the remote. 

“Better,” Eddie whispers back, reaching out and grabbing one of the mugs. He wraps his hands around it, and Buck wraps his left arm around Eddie’s shoulders, tugging him closer in the process and letting his hand rest on Chris’ shoulder. 

They watch the movie in comfortable silence, and by the time it’s halfway through, Chris is almost asleep and Eddie is no longer shivering. After another fifteen minutes, Chris is solidly asleep, leaning against the side of the couch, and Eddie’s head has dropped down to rest on Buck’s shoulder. 

I really don’t wanna do this, Buck thinks, but he also doesn’t want Chris and Eddie to sleep all bunched up and uncomfortable on the couch, so he gently pushes on Eddie until he sits up, blinking around confusedly for a second until his eyes land on Buck.

“Sorry,” Buck whispers. “Couldn’t let you fall asleep out here.”

Eddie nods, resting his head against the couch cushion instead, and Buck stands up, circling around the couch. He carefully picks up Chris, trying his best not to wake him, then carries him to his room and tucks him into bed. He presses a quick kiss to Chris’ forehead, then gently closes the door and returns to Eddie. 

Who is again half-asleep. “C’mon Eds, let’s get you to bed,” Buck says, grabbing Eddie’s hands and pulling him to his feet. Eddie leans forward, pressing his head into Buck’s shoulder and making an mmph sound. 

“It’s not that far,” Buck promises, and Eddie reluctantly starts walking. Buck follows behind him, arms full of several of the blankets from the couch. 

Once they arrive in the bedroom, Eddie immediately flops down onto the bed, not even bothering to crawl under the blankets. Buck sighs and untucks them, pulling them out from underneath Eddie and then draping them over his already-nearly-asleep form. He piles on several more blankets, until Eddie is fairly buried in them. That done, he turns to leave. 

“Buck.”

“Yeah?” Buck turns around in the doorway. 

“Stay.”

Buck doesn’t even pretend to try and fight. Instead, he simply crawls into the bed beside Eddie. His skin is still slightly colder than it should be, and Buck tells himself that this is the only reason why he pulls Eddie in closer to his chest, tucking Eddie’s head beneath his chin. They fit together like that easily, and Eddie sighs contentedly, tugging one of the blankets completely off of Buck and pulling it closer to himself as his breathing slows and deepens. 

Buck is all of a sudden very glad that it’s dark and Eddie is turned away from him, so there is no chance of him seeing the ridiculously fond grin that spreads across his face. I think maybe this is what it’s supposed to be like, Buck thinks, and then he closes his eyes and lets sleep take him, too.

thanks for reading this! i hope you liked it :)

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump2 #i guess. tho techincally the prompt is from day 1 #911 #eddie diaz #freezing #cold #cared for #my writing #i say things #this is soft and gay but so am i! #hope there aren't too many errors but i am tired so this is it.

[my-brothers-corrupted]

Book Four - Part 13

Trick breaks free. Then the real fight begins.

Tws for torture, possession, and blood.

Part 13 - Chase

Anonymous asked: Remember Trick, Chase. In the battle against your own mind, only one person can win. Don't let it, let him, destroy you.

“Here you go, my darling.”

Shifting and whispers in the bed beside him. His eyes slide slowly open, sticky with sleep.

“Nobody will take you away,” Anti is purring to Dapper, clipping tiny cameras to his shirt and the pocket of his pants. “I’ll be watching the three of you all day. Oh, my Trickster’s awake.”

He leans over to kiss Chase’s head, scratching at his scalp. “At least you never cause me any problems. Be good. I’ll be back later.”

“Anti,” croaks Chase, rubbing at his eyes.

“What?”

“I’m really hungry.”

“You eat a lot more than Dapper, you know. But then again, he doesn’t age. He’s low-maintenance. Even the scars tend to fade off him, and he goes all pretty and soft again.” Anti pauses, glancing around the room. “I’ll leave the door unlocked. You can get something from the kitchen. Just don’t let Dapper out.”

“Can’t you bring me something?” asks Trick weakly. “I’m having a down day.”

He can feel it already, his depression getting a tighter and tighter grip on him. He just wants to be taken care of for a little while. Coaxed out of bed and into the shower, brought food and massaged. He knows someone should be here helping him. Knowing what to do. Anti?

“I have to deal with your miserable brothers today,” murmurs Anti, leaning in to nuzzle together once again. “But in a couple weeks, when we’re out of here, I’ll spoil the pair of you all you want and then some. Give master kiss.”

Trick presses his mouth uncertainly to Anti’s cheek, at least soothed a little by the contact, but all too soon Anti is drawing away.

“Have a good day. I love you, Anti.”

He glitches out of view, turning only to flash Trick a smile before he vanishes into color and smoke.

Trick stares after him, numb.

Dapper’s very deeply asleep beside him, face drawn. Anti was talking to him while he wasn’t even awake.

Trick hides beside his brother’s arm and tries to go back to sleep. There’s a faint noise in the edges of his hearing like a faint whimpering, but it scares him too much to think about. He just wants to be unconscious again.

Battle for his mind. Ha. He can’t fight for anything right now.

“Anti’s fucking right,” he whispers. “I am broken.”

Anonymous asked: You will make it through, Chase Brody. You are a survivor through-and-through, and sure you may have had to change for survival a few times, but you are still the strong man with a protective gun in hand, the protagonist enough to lead the story and still be you after all this time. Jack made you for happy endings. And goddamnit you are going to have one, no matter how long the story takes.

Trick glances over at you, eyes dull. He supposes he has survived a lot. But protagonist - he can’t do that. He can’t be that. Right now, all he can do is lie in this bed.

He’s too scared to get up. He’s scared to check Dapper’s pulse and find it fading. Scared to look out his window and feel himself go weak with the confusion and distress from that body on the porch. Scared to see a calendar and know how long he’s been here, here, here, just… rotting.

Just him in this silent room, with moments of Dapper’s company to comfort him, and then silence again. His stomach groans as though to mock him.

“Happy endings,” he whispers, rubbing at his face.

He dreams of that warm smell on a baby’s head and hands pressed into the muscles of his shoulders. Dreams of a soothing mixture of English, German, and BSL to soothe him. Dreams of strawberry shortcake and cats curling up on his lap, of trees with no monsters in them. He would really like that. He would really like a happy ending.

Anonymous asked: Anti hasn't talked about that night because he doesn't actually want to make things better, Trick. He just wants to make you forget everything he's done to you so he never has to apologise. He does it to all of you. He doesn't want to make things better, he just wants to force you to forget, force you to love him. Anti is an abuser. All he will ever do is hurt you worse.

“That night…” mumbles Trick.

He glances down at the deep, ugly burn scar on his hand.

“If I try to go I think he’ll hurt me worse,” Trick whispers, blinking wetly at that old memory in his hand. “I’m scared of him. So angry. He does so many things when he’s angry…”

He hears faint flickers of screams, sees old traces of blood and injuries, watches Dapper’s hands cry for mercy. He curls down tighter against his brother, shuddering.

“I think he will hurt me again,” he croaks out. “You know, I really think he will. I’m scared. I think maybe I wish I could have a little time away? Like Dok and Red and Blue? But then Anti was only more angry. And he makes my head so confused. But you know, I think you’re right. I think maybe he’s always going to be someone who hurts me. I don’t know why we make him so, so angry, but yeah, I think maybe he’s being mean.”

Trick’s eyes well up with tears - and, for a second, a flash of his old ferocity, like the bitter, hurting Trick who crouched against the windowsill in that house near the sea in Norway.

“He makes me do things I don’t want to do and he hurts me and my brothers. Why does he do that? I’m trying to be good. He’s - he’s being a dick. He really is. I think maybe he hurt Dok really really bad.”

Tears begin to drizzle down his cheeks. He turns away from you, panting.

“Fuck him. What the hell? I don’t know what’s so wrong with me, but Dok is sweet. Dapper’s sweet. This is… oh, holy shit, this is all so, so fucked up…”

Anonymous asked: Is it really 'stopping the pain' if it was caused by him in the first place, Trick? Is it really 'stopping the pain' if he's made you forget nearly everything you loved, destroyed and hurt your family, and made you spill the blood of all those innocent lives? Are his lies enough for you?

Trick wipes at his face, feeling pathetic and low.

“He used to stop all the pain,” he says. “And I would float in that haze for days, feeling good, feeling okay, with just these moments where I got the sense that something was totally wrong. Like I was living a life I wasn’t supposed to, cause some god stuck me in the wrong skin or something. But he made it stop hurting. And when we hung out, I’d feel happy and we’d have fun. He’s funny, did you know that? He’s really funny and he can be sweet too. Cause when he’s feeling fond of you, all he wants to do is have you close to him and give you things you want. He glows when you praise him and treat him soft. I thought maybe it was the two of us, right? Like we made each other happy. That’s what I thought.”

He stares out the window at the trees and the golden light of a world that feels miles away.

“But I can’t watch him hurt my brothers anymore,” he whispers. “I don’t think he realizes that that’s what really destroys me. He thinks if he just treats me nice, that’ll be everything I need. Why… why would he lock me away like this? And hurt them like that? Didn’t we do our best? For months now, months and months? Didn’t I love him? All I ever wanted was to make him happy. Now he tells me he has to take me away from the people who make me happy for his sake.

He closes his eyes. A sliver of that faraway sunlight touches him, running over his cheek.

“I don’t think this is going to be enough for me. I can’t stay in this room much longer. And I keep thinking ‘well, surely he won’t make me a prisoner forever’ - and then I look over at him.”

Dapper’s mouth is parted with sleep, his face ashy and hollow. Trick manages to sit up for the first time in more than twelve hours to pull him into his lap and rock him, bent low over his thin little body.

Anonymous asked: Even if it doesn't look like the abuse you've suffered in the past, Anti is emotionally abusing and gaslighting you constantly. The feeling you have that you don't understand anything that's going on and don't know the truth? That's caused by the level of gaslighting you're going through. Being less confident, not feeling like the person you used to be, like everything you do is wrong, making excuses for him, isolation from your family, denying actions you /saw/ him do. It's gaslighting. Abuse.

“Denying actions I saw him do?”

Trick stares out the window, picking at his lip. Pick, pick, picking at his mouth until the blood seeps against his fingernails.

He sighs and shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head like he’s trying to throw the thoughts off. After a few minutes, his discomfort overcomes his exhaustion and he gets up to use the bathroom, leaving Dapper gently propped up against the pillows like a time-traveling Sleeping Beauty.

Trick comes back paler than he was before and sits down hard on the side of the bed, eyes glazed over.

“Anti chained Red and Dapper in the bathtub for a whole night cause they tried to sneak him his Haldol. That’s why Dapper’s arm is busted. Then he told me he’d kill Dok in our sleep if I didn’t take off his necklaces.”

Anonymous asked: When an abuser constantly insists that they love you, your mind learns to rationalize that any abuse is excusable because "they must love me!" in order to keep mental pain at bay. You learn to rationalize that abuse and love can ever co-exist for the sake of your own heart. But the abuser does not love you. Love and abuse cannot co-exist. 'Family' or not, Anti is an abuser, Trick. A violent, physical one. Eventually youll have to choose between real love, & an endless cycle of excusing abuse.

“No, oh, no,” whispers Trick, grabbing at his head. It hurts! There is a wound opening up inside his head, a mallet pounding down against something deeply sealed, a fire burning at his memories. “No, we did love each other. He’s being so horrible, but he… loves us. No, he doesn’t. He loves me? How could he treat me so well when things are good if he doesn’t? He wants to keep me. He loves me.”

But this cycle - this cycle!

He hears a girl laughing. She smells like good cooking and library books. He’s the one making her laugh and it lights his chest up. He presses his mouth to the soft skin of her cheek and she smiles and touches his hand. They say goodbye. Anti slaps him so hard he crashes to the ground. He hears Blue screaming for him to stop, but Anti doesn’t listen. Trick forgot by the next morning.

Trick clutches his head. His fingers intertwine with green hair. “No, no, no. What is he making me forget? He’s - what - what is he trying to turn me into? Please, please get him for me, tell him I need him to clear my head. No - no, but he makes me forget, or - or these are just nightmares. These aren’t real. These are just… just…”

Anonymous asked: It wasn't a nightmare. Don't let him control your head. Don't let him win, Trick. He's been hypnotising you, in your head nearly every single day. Don't you remember when you hated it? When you would cry every time someone was possessed, when him being in your head nearly caused you to kill yourself? Anti doesn't "make the pain stop", he just erases it, destroys it, destroys your sense of self and your freedom over your own mind.

“No, come on,” begs Trick, shaking his head, feeling himself beginning to shake. He needs to lie back down again. He hides under the covers, still holding his skull. “No, that’s not true. I don’t want it to be true. I’m scared. I can’t fight him if he’s really like that. He’s going to hurt me and my family. What do I do? Oh, no, no! He’ll get in my head again - I’m going to forget again and just keep letting him hurt us! Dapper - Dapper’s been stuck in one room for months and months, I have to - I can’t protect anyone, no, he’ll make me forget. He controls me. He’s right, I’m just a fucking puppet. I don’t control my own thoughts anymore…”

Anonymous asked: I'm curious about something, Trick. I'm not even sure if you still remember but there was a girl who Anti captured who you guarded and were told to kill when you all left the area... but you didn't, and you let her go instead. Did she say something to you? What made you directly disobey Anti that day?

Trick looks up at you, astonished. He bites down on his nail, turning away.

“You’re right… shit, what happened?”

Flowers and plants bursting from the earth. Blue’s eyes full of despair moments before glazing over with Anti’s shadow. In the shed, the girl looked back at him, her eyes raised.

“I think she said she wanted to go home to her family,” says Trick. “Or did I imagine that? That she said she had a family to go home to, a family that was looking for her and scared for her? She was all covered up in cuts. Anti used to make Dok do that to people. It was terrible. He would go so wild as he tortured them, just like Anti wanted, but then afterwards he would just shake and shake and shake for days in silence, stuck as deep in his own head as he put his scalpel into Anti’s prisoners. One time, he became convinced there was some sort of infection inside himself that he needed to cut out. I found him in the bathroom, completely delusional, completely incoherent, his scalpel stuck inside his thigh, splurting blood everywhere. I don’t think Anti even said anything about it… Dok cut up someone else that next day. It was always cruel, the torture. For Dok, for his victims. I remember that girl all covered in Dapper’s cuts.

“And I guess I thought I could get away with it. We were all leaving, so why not leave her? But then she brought the magicians. It was my fault she took Dok away.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, head aching.

“And Anti kicked Dap, didn’t he?” he asks faintly. “Maybe I was just angry at him. Like the fire. I didn’t set the fire for Dok, I just wanted to tick Anti off. I don’t know if I left the girl alive because I felt sorry for her or because I wanted to tick Anti off. I think sometimes I do. I think sometimes I want to get him back for all the things he’s done to us.”

As the memories come back to him, so too do the feelings, and with the feelings, a glimpse of reality.

Anonymous asked: Henrik, you can gift your necklaces to other people right? What if you gifted the protection over heart and head to Trick? That might be the only way to keep Anti out of him. I don't think he can fully fight it alone.

Blue eyes slide open on the porch.

Crusted and red. Bloodied on one side.

Henrik’s mouth barely parts. He tilts his head back, trying to readjust, and barbed wire pokes into his cheek, sending blood down his lips, tracing the pale outline of his mouth.

His necklaces hang off his throat. His last, solitary comfort and protection. You want them for his brother?

You must ask someone still standing to be selfless. He can’t care for anyone right now and he’s done his share of the sacrifice. Will you see to it that he is buried by the Chevra Kadisha after Anti kills him? It is his last request. His eyes have gone faraway from you, the pupils shrunk, and he stares at you like a hawk who can see the whole world beneath its endless gaze.

Anonymous asked: Who was it that said the line ‘anti tortured my brothers and made them thank him for it’ ? Cos I think u need to remember that one rn

“I guess he did,” answers Trick faintly. “He’s cruel on purpose. It’s not… it’s not his temper. He thinks it’s funny.”

aether-mae asked: Trick, as much as I love seeing you remember the truth, it’s all for naught if you don’t have a way to get free from Anti. We’ve brought you out of your hazes before only for him to drag you right back in. If you can reach enough clarity, please, please, get the fuck away from him (and bring dapper with you), otherwise we’ll be back to square one again

Trick’s eyes flicker. He looks over at Dapper, chewing on his nails.

“Can’t get out of the house with all the cameras,” he murmurs. “Can I? But I’m allowed go downstairs a little. He’s not, but I am. I don’t know how I could… can’t Red and Blue just come get me, please?”

aether-mae asked: Uhh noodle poodle, come back here please. There’s Dark things in the woods. Hopefully they like kittens..

You hear Trick gasp so hard it’s almost a scream.

“Holy shit!” he sobs. “My cat! Where is my cat, oh no, no, no!”

He scrambles to the door, pulling it open. Panting, he stands outside the room and clicks and kisses for his cat, calling for him like he always does. But Noodle doesn’t come running.

“He’s in the woods?” cries Trick. “My kitten is in the woods? Did Anti hurt him? Is he alive? Noodle! Come here, baby, daddy’s here! Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. I’m going to throw up. My cat, my baby.”

Anonymous asked: There was also a boy once, Trick. A kid you ran into when you robbed the pharmacy. I know you ran to avoid getting caught but I think partially it was because the name he had was familiar to you, in the same way your crinkle paper is familiar to you. No matter how Anti tries to shut your memories away, certain things always seem to linger.

Trick whimpers, shaking his head. Yes, he remembers. It hurt for a long time. It hurt for a long time even before that happened, before he even had that one name to cling to. There has always been a hole in his heart, for as long as he can remember.

But then he had his cat!

Having something to care for soothed him more than was probably healthy. He’s lost hope that he’ll see his children again, but his cat -

“I have to get my cat,” he cries. “I have to get away from Anti or he’ll leave my cat behind to die.”

And, on shaking legs, he begins his way down those great stairs, calling for Pot Noodle.

Anonymous asked: Anti took your children from you. Anti took your family from you, all of your friends, your life, your happiness. He took it all and filled your brain with false joy and lies all to make you a mimicry of Jack that he can pretend to control. Break free from him, Trick. Protect your real family.

The house is in ruins.

He doesn’t know when or how it happened. Struggles between Anti and his brothers, maybe, or just Anti himself lashing out. Maybe even Noodle caused some of the damage, in those first days where he was waiting for Chase to get out of the upstairs room and look after him. Some of it is just neglect.

The plant by the entryway door has fallen to its side and broken, the dirt spilling out across the filthy hardwood floors. A light is smashed above it and Trick can smell something like rot and spoiled milk in the air. There’s blood on the coat hanger.

Trick passes his hand over the wall, stepping through his broken home.

Here’s Red and Blue’s room. He remembers curling up with Red on the nights when Dok and Blue were both taken away from them. The room was cool and clean, Red meticulous in his organization and precise in his temperature control. They took what little comforts they could when they could hear their twins crying out from upstairs. Today, the room is in ruins. The sheets are torn off the bed and someone has been scratching at the door, leaving nail marks in the side, one hinge busted entirely. The drawers have been ripped open and the lamp is on its side, broken like it was used as a battering ram.

This home was so beautiful when they moved in, or Trick thought it was. And after everything that happened, he thought that maybe, just maybe, they would have a few months of peace and quiet, warm with the California sun and the love between them. It should have been idyllic.

He’s living in a fucking nightmare.

The basement is surprisingly clean, though Noodle’s sand box is full and his empty dishes have been pushed around and flipped in frustration by a hungry cat. But his and Dok’s bed is still untouched.

They would lie together. He would tell Dok about Anti. Dok would tell him about comfort and freedom and the future he wanted. Trick had barely even been able to listen at the time, ensnared in Anti’s power and his own self-delusions.

He puts his hand down on the mattress. His eyes water and spill over.

This was real family.

Anonymous asked: you were his nurse, trick. you were more than that. you loved him more than anti. you loved dok more than anyone. anti is torturing him, your real twin. anti is trying to force you to forget how much you loved him so that you'll be complacent. don't sit down and take it. fight for your family trick. see how horrible anti has treated you all for years and fight it with all your might.

“Dok was my twin,” he croaks out.

They would hold each other through the worst nights, whispering reassurances and secret sedition to each other, taking care of each other on their down days, days of blood and an exhaustion so deep as to eat holes in you. Dok - Henrik - was everything to him, when he had no one else to turn to. How did he ever forget, even for a hazy moment?

“Dok is my family. Anyone who hurts him like this does not belong. Dok is my family and I have to protect him.”

He holds his head up, breathing deep and closing his eyes.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

Anonymous asked: Red, Blue, and Henrik have done it and you can do, Trick. I feel like this is a truth you always knew. Anti is a snake in the rabbit's den. Anti is a falsity haphazardly placed inside the truth of your brotherhood. Anti does not love you, even if he seems 'fond' whenever you're under his control. He doesn't love you, he wants to control you.

Trick runs his hand through his hair, trying to think. “You’re right,” he murmurs. “And soon, he’ll come back and put me under his control again. I’ll be all confused and listless again, forgetting everything that matters so I can be his. I - I have to act right now. Right now, today. Before he tries to destroy me again.”

Anonymous asked: (1) Anti needs you to believe you'd be nothing without him. He needs you all to believe he is in charge and he is special and free from the rules because it fits his world view, where he's the all-powerful, in charge of everything. But you're not truly under his control. Trick, Dapper, Red, any of you, can be free at any time if you stop conforming to Anti's self-imposed world view. Anti treats you like a means to an end, you're only with him to satisfy his needs, to be the person he wants.

“He can force me to believe what he wants,” says Trick, treading back up the stairs. He’s so hungry he can barely think straight, so he’s decided to do what Dok would want him to do and try to find some breakfast while he thinks. “I need help to keep him out of my head, that’s the truth of it. In Singapore, Blue was the only anchor I had who kept me from getting completely lost in his power. Dapper will help me if he’s up to it, I know that now. I’ll get him some food too. I have to figure out what to do. I have to…”

He stares around himself at the prison of his home. The kitchen is absolutely wrecked, the fridge door left open so everything has gone bad. The stench of meat makes him gag. He grabs a tray of stale muffins and fills up a big water bottle before heading back towards his room, sitting shakily down on the bed.

“Need to get out of the house,” he whispers, his eyes flickering around to the cameras in the room. “Need to stop Dok from being his hostage. But he’s always watching. I have to distract him somehow. Or be very, very quick.”

Anonymous asked: Anti said he'll finish Henrik off if Red or Blue even try coming close to the house. You can't rely solely on their help to get you out.

Trick curls in on himself a little, his anxiety spiking.

“That’s why they haven’t come to get me. They can’t even get close. They… they can’t help me at all while Dok’s on the porch. I have to go get him. But I don’t know how. Dap - maybe Dap can reverse something for me when he gets up. Then I could try a couple times over and figure out what works. I’d feel so much safer. I’m pretty scared. Anti’s really going to beat me if he finds out. He’s focused on Dok right now, right? Not reading messages or anything? I think he’s been hunting Red and Blue in the forest.”

He rubs at his face and takes a big bite of his muffin, his mouth flooding with saliva at the relief of having food again. They finished off Dapper’s snacks early yesterday. Trick was getting about ready to try that rotted cheese he had in the drawers. He chugs half the water bottle and touches Dapper’s shoulder, trying to wake him.

“Hey, little man. Let’s see if we can’t get some food in your tummy, yeah? Dap, here I am.”

Anonymous asked: cracked screen cracked screen cracked screen-

For context, the moderator had, at this point, changed the blog icon from a square of glitches to a square of glitches with cracks through it, like a broken phone screen.

“Is it cracked?”

Trick peers at his camcorder, finding the lens intact.

“Looks okay from my side of things, but there’s a lot of different cameras in this house.”

He feels movement in the bed beside him and turns to see Dapper squinting at him, blinking as he comes back to consciousness.

“That is some truly fantastic bedhead, my man.”

Dapper manages a faint smile for him.

“There’s my guy. Come on, bud, let’s get you sitting up and get you some water.”

He pulls Dapper up against the headboard, propping his pillows up behind him. “How are you feeling?”

“Little better,” answers Dapper.

“Here, have some water. Is that true that you don’t eat as much cause you don’t age?”

“I think so,” his brother says. “But I can’t be sure. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten much. Just survive off what Anti brings me. But I’m okay.”

“We’ll get you some food and clean up your bandages.”

Anonymous asked: Jackie, Blue, if you could get to the house and provide a distraction, Trick is willing to jailbreak him, Dap, and Dok. Is that a possibility?

Blue sits up straight from where he was slouching in the lawn outside one of Dark’s houses, eyes lighting up.

“Yes, of course,” he breathes. “Whatever he needs. He’s really willing to go? I told you he was my little fighter, Ro! Let’s go now and we’ll get in a fight with Anti. I can light him up with my magic back.”

Jackie shifts against the tree he’s leaning on, more skeptical than his sibling. “I don’t know. They’re going to get hurt. If Anti catches them, we’ll have three brothers strung up on that porch. And I don’t think Dapper can take that right now.”

“First of all, have some faith in them,” says Blue, pinching Jackie’s wrist. “They’re tougher than you like to admit and they’ve been through a lot of dangerous situations and come out the other side. Secondly, we don’t have much choice here, my darling. We can’t get past Anti while he has a hostage. He’s willing to kill and the cameras are activated. We need Trick to get Dok to safety.”

“How the hell is he going to get out of that house?” asks Jackie, shaking his head. “Carrying Dok and supporting Dap? I don’t think he could get out if he were on his own. Anti will have his eyes on the cameras even while he’s fighting us.”

“Then Trick will have to be fast,” says Blue, getting to his feet. “And you and I will have to be very distracting.”

A smile curls onto Jackie’s face despite his trepidation.

“Well that,” he says, “I think we can do.”

Anonymous asked: Jackie if you know you can handle the backlash, then maybe taunting Anti about being not afraid, talking about beating him to essence in front of Jack, and being stronger than him, etc, has seemed to definitely do the job in the past.

Jackie starts laughing even as he shifts his weight from foot to foot and rocks on his heels. Blue watches him carefully to see if he’s getting overwhelmed, but he has it together.

“Oh, he’d be so mad.” Jackie rubs at his hair. “But… I guess that’s true, right? I beat him before. I did. We did! He should be scared. He can’t treat my family like this. We’ll go get him.”

He turns to smile at Blue. “Yeah. We’ll get him.”

Anonymous asked: Could Shep or Google sneak in and help Trick get the others out while you two distract Anti?

A window opens in the house above them.

“This isn’t a fucking crossover episode!” shouts Host. “Use your own characters! There’s a such thing as narrative integrity and I will not watch as it is - ”

“Gigi!” calls Blue. “You want to come help us with our brothers?”

Gigi appears in the doorway, letting Moses out of the house. “Sorry, not allowed. Dark doesn’t want me involved.”

“Come on, don’t be a sycophant,” says Blue, flashing Gigi a look that makes Ro roll his eyes. “You know, I think we could have some fun, Gigi. You don’t have to listen to Dark. We might really have a good time.”

Google shakes his head. “I’m good right here, thanks.”

“You like being Dark’s, Gigi?”

Google gazes at him, then across at Dark’s house, where Wilford is chasing the dog around the yard. The peach tree outside the house offers leaves to the wind, pink fruit bursting on its branches. Birds cascade around the roof and windows. The breeze stirs his hair.

“I’m good right here,” he says again, and you think you see, just for a moment, the flicker of a smile on his mouth.

“Well, what about Shep?” asks Blue, glancing around for him. “Host, where is he?”

“Out looking for that cat again,” answers Host. “I recommended he put some meat in a carrier and see what he catches. My bet is on possum, but I would also accept bear cub or porcupine.”

Anonymous asked: Shep? ...Did you ever find Noodle?

“Guess not,” sighs Blue. “Trick’s going to be broken-hearted if we don’t find that cat.”

“He’s been out alone in the forest for days now,” says Ro. “He’s a house-cat, never lived out on his own. Most likely he’s dead.”

“Ro,” snaps Blue, and then remembers to soften his voice. “Sorry, just - a little too blunt, love.”

“Sorry. Yeah, uh, we’ll find him! Somewhere.”

scunneredzombie asked: Trick, if your oldest brothers create a distraction would you run? Can you get away in the middle of a fight, if that breaks out? Blue has faith in you!

“I wish Blue was here,” says Trick quietly, staring out the window. “He’d make everything better. He always does.”

Anti was the one who made him sick… the memory of his body in the hospital feels suddenly overwhelming… Trick bows his head and sighs, clutching his shirt and wringing it between his hands.

“Run away in the middle of a fight,” he mumbles. “Away from Anti. I don’t know. I’m…”

Scared.

“Maybe that’s why he likes me so much,” he says. “Cause he knows I don’t have the guts to stand up to him. I always come back all warm to him. No matter what he does. Even in Norway, before he messed with my head like he has been lately, I was so hungry for any affection for him. Now I still can’t seem to run away. I’m sorry, I don’t - I don’t think I can do this.”

Warm fingers cup his chin. He turns and finds Dapper looking at him, smiling. His little brother’s fingers move back to stroke against the hairs at the nap of his neck and Trick relaxes wearily, eyes sliding shut. He takes a deep breath. Dapper tugs gently at his hair and he opens his eyes to see him again.

“Can I tell you something?” he signs.

“Course, man.”

“When Anti caught you and Henrik, Red and I were both lost deep in his power. He had treated us very badly for a while, but as we came around and became more and more willing to do what he asked us to do - to be what he asked us to be - he started to become warm and loving with us. Our missions felt like adventures back then. Even the killing was satisfying. Red was having breakdowns most every night without ever being able to tell me why, but in the daytime, he and I were Anti’s monsters. In Italy and Denmark, we killed and stole like we were born to do it.

“You and Dok changed things. Anti was obsessed with Dok’s savagery as a torturer for some time, but as he watched it begin to destroy him, he got bored again. And you - ”

“Were always his little yellow-belly,” chuckles Trick. “He didn’t have any interest in me back then.”

“No,” protests Dapper, touching his chin again. “No, that’s not true. You only remember after he reset you. But Trick, you lasted longer than Dok and Red had before you lost the fight to Anti. You fought so hard, Trick. Fought him every step of the way. I think that was the first time I began to get my memories of who we had been back. Because you fight, Trick. You fight when you need to. That’s one of those things that Anti can’t take from you. And I think that’s one of the reasons he gets caught up in this fascination with you. Anti only respects power and ability. To him, you should be helpless, hopeless, lost all the time - a human being with no magic and a lot of pain going on in your head. But you still keep fighting. He can’t understand why. Why mortal things, despite all the suffering and weakness they have to go through, still find things in life worth fighting for.”

Trick stares at him, clinging to his words.

“Now, Trick, Chase, my brother - if you want, you and I can go with Anti. Maybe we could even convince Anti that Dark is right, and he shouldn’t kill the others. Maybe Anti could even make us feel happy for a while. If that’s what you want, you and I can go. I’ll stay with you. We’ll be family. And I think we could survive it.”

Dapper leans forward and lets their foreheads thunk together, just for a second.

“But that’s not what you want, is it?”

Trick shakes his head slowly, tears dripping down his face.

“Because that’s not who you are.”

Trick shakes his head again. No. That’s not who he is. That’s not what he wants.

“Trick, I’m too sick to help reverse things right now. I’m sorry. And I know you’re tired too, and I know you’re scared. But Chase… your favorite person in the world is down there, hurt and alone, while Anti plans to kill him. He can’t stay there, not for another minute if we can help it. Right?”

“Right,” he whispers.

“So what are we going to do?”

Trick reaches up to hug him. For a minute, they just hold each other. Eyes closed. Hearts together.

“Dap, I’m not a fighter like you think I am,” whispers Trick. “I want to, I just - I know I can’t. I know I can’t do this.”

“Why? What’s going on? Did something happen?”

“Because - ”

His voice breaks. He draws back with tears in his eyes, holding on to his little brother.

“Dapper, I still love him. I still love Anti.”

“Oh, my brother.”

Dapper reaches out to cup his face in his hands.

“I do too. But we don’t have to stop loving him. We just have to look at him, and see what he truly is, beneath the idea of him we fell for - and then choose to love ourselves more.”

“What if he needs me?” whispers Trick. “What if I’m the only one who could save him from himself?”

“Dok needs you more,” says Dapper, and he presses his hand to Trick’s heart. “And today, you really are the only one who can save your twin.”

Anonymous asked: To Trick (and all who need to hear): Healing from pain is a choice, and it is up to you to consciously /decide/ that you deserve to move on from the weight and hurt you've dealt with for so long. Because you do. You deserve hope and love and freedom. But you have to choose it for yourself.

“You don’t deserve to be hurt for his sake when he doesn’t even want to be saved,” signs JJ, the pair of them sitting side-by-side in their monster’s bed. “They’re right and they always have been, even when you were too lost to realize. You deserve - we deserve - to be free and safe and cared for, Chase. So what are you choosing, my brother?”

“Hey,” whispers Trick.

“Yeah?”

“You’re really good at giving speeches.”

He gets to watch Dapper’s tired face light up with laughter. It makes him smile too. A moment later, they are locked against each other, giggling and rocking each other on the bed, faces squished together.

“You have to choose with me, then,” says Trick. “I know how long you’ve been scared and alone. You got to choose to fight with us today.”

Dapper wipes at tears on his face, hugging him tighter. He doesn’t want to let go just yet.

Anonymous asked: Dapper is right. Trick it takes a looong feckin time to stop loving people who've abused you. It takes even longer to love yourself again. But it's a choice you are capable of making. Choose to love your family, love yourself, more than you love the monster amongst you. Anti is a calloused, cold abuser who delights in pain and cruelty. No amount of love will save him from himself. Go and be with the people who loved Chase before you ever had to be Trick to survive.

“You and the others are the only hope that I have held onto for long years now,” signs Dapper, stuck fast to him. “If you’re ready, then I am too. I’m not sure I can do much, but what I can, I will.”

“Okay, then - then me too, me too,” whispers Trick, wrapping him up again. “Me too. Okay, I’m stuttering like fuck, haha. You gotta give me a minute. Just to breathe. Then - then I’m ready. Okay.”

“You should change out of your pjs, maybe,” Dapper recommends.

“Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Alright, shit. Do you have everything you need if I go get him?”

“I’m okay. I want you to worry about Dok first.”

“No way, you’re just as important as he is.”

“Thank you, but Dok’s in a lot more danger than I am with Anti. Anti won’t kill me, I’m fairly sure. If it comes down to it, get him to safety first and worry about me later.”

“No, I won’t do that.”

“We’ll see what happens, alright? Now go get ready, quickly. I’m sure big brother will be here soon to make a mess and cause problems.”

“His specialties.”

Trick hugs him one more time before getting out of bed, leaving you beside Dapper as he goes to change.

Anonymous asked: Good luck!!!

Chase gives a small laugh.

It seems almost too little, but almost too much: good luck. He needs it more than he knows how to express.

But he is also the gunman, the guard dog, the father, the nurse. He is a fighter and a softie too. He needs luck. He needs hope. He needs courage. He will find them.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

He’s wearing one of Jamie’s blue hoodies, basketball shorts, and worn, well-kept, fading Converse. He has no weapons and no magic.

For the first time in days, he dares to search for his twin’s body outside his window. He can see very little of him from this angle, but he knows him nonetheless. So fucking still. Why is the deck red beneath his unmoving hands?

“Go,” signs Jamie. “Look, in the woods.”

In the woods, movement. Anti appears from the air in front of the trees, eyes narrowed.

“I know you’re there!” they hear him shout from far away. “I can see both of you with the cameras I have in the trees! You’ll never get close to him before I can transport back and stop you! Neither of you will get out of my gaze.”

“He is watching for Red and Blue, as long as they keep him distracted,” signs JJ. “He knows all the magic and help they have. They will not be able to get to Dok on their own. Go, while he is so focused on them he feels safe.”

Trick hugs him one more time before moving towards the door.

“I’ll come back for you,” he vows. “Nobody’s getting left behind this time.”

“Please don’t worry about me.”

“No, Dapper - ”

He turns back to him and takes his face in his hands, drawing his gaze up.

“Don’t give up,” he says softly. “No resigning yourself to anything. Today, you find some hope, okay?”

Dapper bites his mouth. He nods, just once.

“I will come back for you and you will be ready to go. Okay?”

“Okay. Okay. Yes.”

They pull away. Chase goes.

JJ stares after him for a long time, hands clenched.

Then he gets up and he gets dressed.

It feels very similar to stepping back from the edge of a cliff in Lima.

Anonymous asked: Speak of the devil, where is Anti anyway?

“Speak of the devil indeed!” calls Blue through the trees. “Who’s the guard dog now, bitch boy?”

Anti turns his head towards him, snarling, but Blue vanishes behind a wall of ivy. A rock thwacks into the side of Anti’s head and he yells, touching a patch of blood on his skull and then making it glitch out of existence once more.

“How long can you keep that up, do you think?” asks Red, taking aim once again from a slingshot borrowed from the twins. “Can you glitch all day? Or is it like after you stole Blue’s magic, where you got fucking exhausted and crawled away from the battle half-draped across Trick’s shoulders?”

“You’d be tired too if you fought off half a legion of magicians single-handedly,” spits back Anti, and despite the irritation they’re bringing him, there is some wild light coming back to his eyes, a light you have not seen since Jack was still filming videos of him. “I think I can handle one magician and his useless brother just fine.”

Jackie leaps out of the underbrush, swinging his staff and hollering a battle cry, and Anti lunges forward to meet him. A wolf closes its teeth around the staff, shoving him to the ground; fire lights up the wolf’s fur and makes it screech; Anti rolls away again to find Jackie slinking back - goddammit! These fucking annoyances. Fuck, fuck, but he’s glad to be trying to kill them again. There are hot tears in his eyes. He hates them. He will tear them apart like he always wanted.

He follows them farther into the woods, his cameras lighting up in the trees. As long as he has eyes on them, no one will take the ones who still belong to him.

Anonymous asked: Help is coming, Henrik. Your twin remembers you. We're going to get you out of here.

Those blue eyes slide open again.

He doesn’t know what relief feels like anymore.

But he still has that raven on his breast.

He will die his own man.

His eyes slide shut again.

Anonymous asked: Just hang in there a little longer Henrik. Everything will be okay

“Dok,” whispers a soft voice. “Dok. Deutsch. Henrik.”

He has been whittled down to his own faint breathing; it is the only sound or sensation still existing in his chest. In - out. Slower. In.

Out.

In.

Breathe.

“Dok, I’m here. I’m here.”

Warm hands on the side of his face, caressing him, holding him, around the bloodied barbs of the wire. One on the right is close to piercing his eye. He has been trying for days to stop it from getting too close. Now he can no longer feel it. Perhaps it has already blinded him. He can see very little.

“What happened to you, what happened? I’m here. Dok, I was wrong. I couldn’t see him. I’m sorry. I’m here now. We can go. We can go home.”

He has no words left.

“I’ll get you out. Quick, before Anti checks on you. Here I am.”

Chase.

Anonymous asked: You've got this Chase, go quiet, go fast! Be careful of his injuries, Anti has been torturing Henrik for a long while.

Chase grabs at his hair, tears wet in his eyes, and he curses himself for being a crybaby and a sycophant and a coward.

“I’m here now!” he repeats, almost screaming it, and you see him leap to his feet and turn towards the yard, picking up the shovel that Red was using last week when he decided to dig holes in the lawn to trip Dark’s soldiers. Trick turns back to his twin and stalks back onto the porch, drawing the shovel back like a spear. He thrusts it down with keen accuracy and slams the sturdy metal against the thin dog chain lanced around Henrik’s throat. Again and again, he brings that shovel down, finding the weak chain and snapping - snapping - snapping free!

He kicks the end of the chain off him, panting. He sinks back down to his knees, holding his brother again. Trick lets the barbed wire cut into his arms. It doesn’t matter anymore.

“Dok, hey, are you awake, even? Say something to me. Ich bin hier. I won’t leave again, not ever. Maybe you can’t talk right now. Sometimes you get like that. I don’t mind. I never minded. We take care of each other, right? Remember how you used to stay up with me so, so late and rub my shoulders just so I could relax? I was so scared of Anti finding that I hadn’t guarded all night I would stay awake for days at a time. You were my only comfort. I’m here.”

Fingers flicker against his waist. He touches his head against Dok’s, beginning to try and peel the barbed wire off him, but fuck, fuck! Every barb has to come out one at a time, slow and delicate, and he knows he’s hurting his brother from the way he starts to tremble beneath him. Trick’s fingers too are being cut open by the barbs, because it takes real force to begin unraveling these thick bindings, stronger even, perhaps, than the chain. He won’t be able to get this all off in an hour, let alone five minutes.

“I should have stopped this from happening,” sobs Trick, rocking him. “They’re right. Anti’s been torturing you for ages, especially since we came to this house. And I just waited for him to stop being angry. That’s all I did. I should have stopped him. He wanted to make sure you were punished just for trying to live your life without him. Is this the price he asks for? Look at you, my poor Deutsch…”

Wounds beneath the wire. Wounds and bruises beneath the wire. His left hand is swollen immovably, blue and black and red. He has been cut to pieces. Trick has looked at him for only a moment and found a half-dozen injuries.

“What do I do with you, Henrik? Tell me what to do. Come on, you were always the smart one. I won’t leave, okay? Even if he comes back and kills us both. I’m never leaving you again.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Dok? I don't know if you have a camera about you, but... Do you think it would ever be possible to give Trickshot the necklace that protects your head and heart? I don't know if he could ever be fully safe without that magical help. He's deep in the fire, man.

“No, let him keep them,” croaks Trick, stroking Dok’s hair. “They’re for him. They were presents for him. To protect them. You keep ‘em, Dok. I’m sorry I tried to take them from you. I thought I was keeping you safe, but there are more important things than surviving. You didn’t want him back in your head again. He never will be again. I swear.”

He clutches the two ravens on his brother’s heart. Today, the birds do not burn him.

Anonymous asked: Get Henrik and JJ out of there, Chase. The only place you can be safe is far away from him, otherwise there's a chance he'll get into your head again.

“If I carry him they will dig into his body even more.” Trick looks around for help, but he knows none is coming. “I need pliers or something, but where would I get them? Anti locked up everything that Dapper or I could hurt ourselves with. Shovel won’t work. I’ll just - I’ll just have to start pulling them out and hope I can tug him out or something soon. Right? What else do we have? What else can I do?”

Henrik’s tired red fingers rest over Trick’s, still pressed against the necklaces. Trick clings to him, hearing a rough sigh of relief press out of him. It is the only sign of life Henrik has given him other than his breathing. Their hands rest together.

aether-mae asked: Every day I wake up and pray this story isn’t a Shakespearean-esc tragedy. These boys are going to make it. They have to

“Right,” mumbles Trick. “We have to, we…”

Their hands rest together on the birds. He looks at Dok and sees blue eyes slide open.

They hold on to each other.

“You trust me?” whispers Trick.

Dok breathes.

In.

Out.

His body, stiff and aching, relaxes against his brother’s body. His eyes slip closed again, unafraid.

Yes. Of course.

Here they are.

Trick snaps the string of Dok’s second necklace.

Anonymous asked: You guys have been so distant lately. I'm happy for him to have you back Chase, even if just for the moment right now. Also, does JJ still have his lock picking set from Max? Maybe you could break into wherever Anti locked things away.

JJ is standing in the window of the room upstairs, throwing his shoes at the camera above the porch, trying to knock it down.

“I threw the lock pick off the side of a cliff, unfortunately,” he signs. “I was not very future-oriented at the time.”

He has run out of his own shoes. He heads to the closet to get the shoes of the man who used to live here, the man he killed, but when he runs back to the window with his arms full of dress shoes, his brothers are gone.

“Oh, I think he got him,” he says. “He really did move fast. Damn, maybe we should break into Anti’s things though. I’d really like to have some knives.”

Yelling and fighting in the forest outside, and then Anti’s shriek of anger.

Dapper stares out the window, head tilted up, trying to catch sight of someone. Anti flashes back to the porch, shouting threats, but Dok is already gone.

“No fucking way they got to him, I had my eyes on them,” he snarls.

He looks straight up at Dapper. Dapper backs away from the window and goes to hide in the closet. Trick bursts into the room about halfway through and they smack right into each other, skulls slamming together.

“Owwww,” groans Trick, clutching at his stomach.

“Trick! Watch it! Come here, he’s coming!”

Dapper grabs his brother and they slide into the closet, closing the door behind them and hunkering down beneath coats and shirts, hands clutched together.

“Where did he go?”

Anti is stalking around the house, his mouth full of poison and vitriol.

“What the fuck did you do? Who else is here? Dark, if this is you or any of your soldiers, I swear to hell I’ll kill the lot of you!”

They hear Anti shove the bedroom door open, snarling like an animal. He tears the room apart, doors slamming and furniture crashing to the floor. When he finds nothing, he turns towards the closet.

“Where is Dok?” asks Dapper. “Did you - ”

Anti forces his way inside, grabbing them both by the hair.

“Where the hell is he?”

“We don’t know, we don’t know!” cries Trick. “Ow, Anti, ow! He’s not here!”

“If I find out either of you had anything to do with this I’ll feed you to each other!” shouts Anti, throwing them back to the ground. Dapper grabs onto Trick’s shoulder and they press back against the wall, panting.

Anti pauses at the door, eyes flickering.

“What’s that smell?” he demands.

Trick and Dapper exchange glances.

“Moths?” signs Dapper weakly.

Anti stares around the closet, eyes narrow.

“If you catch sight of Dok, tell the cameras,” he says, turning to stalk away.

Trick slumps back against the wall, one hand over his mouth, one hand over his stomach. Dapper pulls him into a hug and they both try to calm down.

Anonymous asked: Is something wrong with your stomach, Chase?

“No, nothing’s wrong, thanks, I, uh - ”

“What are you holding?” asks Dapper, pushing at his hands. “Let me see.”

“No, JJ, stop being a little shit,” scowls Trick, pushing him back, before the sentence has left his mouth, Dapper has stopped still, staring at him.

“What?”

“JJ?” he signs.

“JJ? What’s JJ mean?”

“You just called me JJ.”

Chase blinks, hands loosening on his stomach. “Oh. Dapper, I meant. What’s JJ?”

Jameson looks away, mouth turning down.

“Is that… you? Is that your secret name?”

He’s looking back at him like he might reply when there’s movement in his hoodie. Chase clasps his hands over his tummy again, but too late.

The little white and grey head of a sleepy-looking rat pokes out of the side of Trick’s hoodie pocket.

“Oh,” breathes Dapper. “A baby!”

Trick looks desperately up at Dapper and sees nothing but delight in his eyes. He relaxes a little, letting out another long, shaky breath.

“It’s an important baby. We have to keep it safe.”

“Can I have it?” begs Dapper, cupping his hands.

“No, no,” says Trick hurriedly, holding his hands around the rat, stroking its white head with his thumb. “Gotta let him rest and hide, okay?”

“Little baby… what a pretty fancy rat. It looks kind of sick though. Will we keep him?”

“We’ll worry about that later, okay?”

“Cutie. I’m in love. Oh, don’t let Anti see, he’ll kill a little mouse.”

Anonymous asked: How goes the fight, Jackie & Blue? Anti seems utterly pissed

“Tell my brothers to get out of the house!” he calls. “We’re leaving today and we’re not coming back.”

Anti screams and glitches towards Jackie in a flash, but Jackie rolls away and Blue is there a moment later, intercepting Anti’s attack with fire and plant life, guarding his older brother.

“Feeling a little useless, I admit,” pants Jackie, circling and loading another stone in his slingshot. “He’s got a fuckton of magic, and me? I have this rock!”

He launches it at Anti and hits him dead on once more. Anti snarls and glitches the wound away, slicing through thick vines with a machete pulled from thin air.

“Your tricks won’t stop me!” he shouts, finding Blue on one of his cameras and transporting towards him, knife swinging.

“He’s not pissed!” Blue calls to you, taunting. “He’s just scared!”

Anti shouts and transforms into the wolf, launching himself at Blue, teeth snapping.

Anonymous asked: JJ is him, yes! Jameson Jackson!

“Jameson?” repeats Chase, and though he remembers very little, the name still seems to fit, somehow, in his mouth. “That’s… kind of awesome. You look like a JJ.”

Dapper seems particularly touched by this, his mouth drawing shyly up again.

“Do you know the others’ names too?”

“It’s not my place to tell you,” says Dapper, touching his cheek for a moment. “Give them time.”

“Well, should I call you JJ?”

He pauses, glancing away.

“I’m not… sure yet. Should I call you Chase?”

Trick stares at him, cupping the rat in his hand. The warm head drifts sleepily against his palm.

“I think that’d be okay,” he says. “Trick, he - he wasn’t always kind to you. I’d like for Chase to be better.”

He tucks the rat gently back into his hoodie.

“Get everything you need from the room and let’s go.” Chase pulls Dapper to his feet, stroking the rat in his pocket with long, soothing strokes of his thumb. “We might have to be away for a while, I don’t know.”

“I want a knife.”

“We’ll grab one from the kitchen.”

“Then I think I got everything in here.” JJ grabs a black coat from the closet. It’s too nice and warm to match his thin, worn t-shirt and the short sleep pants he’s wearing, but its pockets are stuffed full of what few things he has - his favorite chalks in a ziploc bag, one half of a torn prayer card, a wad of American cash, the picture of Eshe that Max gave him, a GoPro camera, and a few slips of paper Chase doesn’t recognize. He pulls them from the pocket, flipping them over.

“What are these?” he asks. “What - plane tickets?”

“Anti was going to take us back to England to kill Jack like he said.” Dapper taps the word ‘London’ on the tickets. “There’s four tickets. Figured I’d grab them. I don’t know, I just grabbed everything.”

“Clothes and drawing stuff and everything?”

“Still in the backpack.”

Trick swings the pack over his shoulders. He takes Dapper’s hand and holds the rat inside his pocket in the other.

“Here we are,” he tells them both softly. “Let’s go, okay?”

Dapper squeezes his hand. They race down the stairs together, heading for the backdoor, hoping Anti is still distracted long enough for them to reunite with Red and Blue.

In the trees, Anti sees them step out onto the porch. You see him stop short, expression contorting.

“Get back inside!” he shouts, moving towards them. Chase and JJ exchange glances.

Blue and Jackie are panting in the foliage, taking a second to breathe, already half-exhausted. Blue’s hair is singed from his own fire and his hands are heavy with weeds, while a fresh cut bleeds heavily across Jackie’s forehead, but he hardly seems to mind. There’s a vibrant ferocity burning in his eyes.

“Let’s go,” he coughs, staggering to his feet to race out and protect the others.

“Jackie, wait,” calls Blue, pulling him back down. Jackie looks at him, astounded.

“You called me - ”

“Listen, is this the talisman Dok gave you?”

Jackie touches the raven on his breast. “The necklace, yeah. It doesn’t have any more magic, though.”

Blue grabs his shoulder, looking up at him.

“You can use it, though. When you have it. You burn like a star. You’re my counterpart, my twin. I don’t care if Anti was the one who decided it at first. Now we decide it. You are the other part of me.”

“This is sweet, but my baby brothers are on the other side of Anti’s glare right now.”

“Give me the talisman. It can still hold magic. Take my fire.”

Jackie’s eyes go huge.

But only for a moment. He accepts the idea a moment later, blinking. Mind already ahead. Strategizing. Fighting. Leading again. Like he was always meant to do.

“If you can,” says Jackie softly, pressing the necklace into his brother’s fingers. “Then give it to me. And we will share this fight together, my Blue.”

Blue smiles at him.

And then he lets all the power he can give blaze into that necklace, and gives it to his other self.

“Let’s go.”

Anonymous asked: Go Jackieboy Man, protect your family!! You're a shooting star, Astrifer, and it's time to burn like one!

Ro liked having the light magic. He liked burning like a star. The magic felt like having a blanket of warmth wrapped around his whole body. But even then, that was Emmanuela’s magic, and this - this is Blue’s.

This is Marvin’s.

He would know it without sight or sound or touch. He would know it by the way it comforts him, just like Blue always has. He would know it by the way it makes him brave.

Flame follows Jackie out of the trees, his twin at his side, wreathed in bloom and thorn.

“Look at you two,” snarls Anti. “Aren’t you straight out of one of his stories? I should have known. None of us can avoid the destiny he set down for us. We were always going to end up right here once again.”

“This time,” says Blue. “We finish it.”

“When I raze you to the ground, we will call it finished.”

“Anti,” says Trick quietly, eyes wide. “Don’t, okay? Just - just stop, please. Dap and I don’t want you to hurt them. There’s things we won’t forgive.”

Anti turns to him, lips drawn back in indignant fury. “You little bitch. Don’t tell me what to do. You belong to me so keep your mouth shut.”

Trick’s mouth is tight and trembling. His eyes reflect the fire in Jackie’s hands.

“What if I’m not,” he says.

“What?”

“What if I don’t want to be yours anymore?”

Anti hears himself laugh. He’s shaking his head at Trick, eyes slightly confused. “What? Who told you to say that?”

Trick stands close to Dapper. Anti sees the same expression in their faces - wary and scared, yes, and then something harder underneath. Dapper’s eyes speak to him. After all these years, Anti does not need to look into his head. He can see the change in him.

“What are you doing?” he asks. “Where… did you go? Dapper?”

Dapper doesn’t answer him. Doesn’t comfort him. He steps slightly closer to Trick, head low.

“Get away from them, Anti,” says Jackie. “Just… hell, man, just go. Just leave us alone and don’t come back.”

“No, fuck that,” snaps Blue. “You stay and learn what it’s like to scream in fear all over again.”

Anti breathes out, chest shuddering. The fire freezes over in his bitter blue eyes.

He glitches and he grabs Trick and Dapper, wrapping one arm around Trick’s waits, hauling him off his feet, and grabbing Dapper by the hair.

“Anti, don’t do this!” screams Trick.

“You get the hell away from them!” shouts Jackie, fire lighting in his hair.

Everyone is shouting or signing or both, moving towards each other; fire and plant life and painfully-bright colors burst up around them, Anti has a blade to his little brother’s throat and -

Anti hollers in alarm as something sharp digs into his finger. He looks down at his hand around Trick’s stomach, startled.

“Rat!” he screams, dropping Trick and Dapper immediately, glitching all the way up to the roof of the house. “It bit me, it bit me! Fuck you, Trick, you hid that from me? You - ”

His eyes find the raven on Jackie’s sweatshirt.

Anti looks back at Trick, hiding that rat back against his stomach, eyes frantic.

“Dok,” hisses Anti. “You… you, Trick… you took him off the porch, you - all of you… all five of you, the ones that belong to Jack… traitors.”

ari-trash asked: Oh- oh my god, the last raven necklace! Dok is the rat?? Is he okay? D:

“Uhhh, no, this isn’t Dok!” says Trick hurriedly, pressing him down into his pocket. “He’s fine, I hid him! Dok’s not here and he’s definitely not this rat, no way.”

“You… turned my brother into a fucking rat?” says Blue.

“Hey, I got him safe! He trusts me! He’s fine. Aren’t you, Deutsch?”

The rat does look remarkably settled in that hoodie pocket, its tired eyes closed and its little body rising and falling with soft breaths. Anti is gripping his knife so tightly his fingernails cut into his palm, panting almost to the point of hyperventilation. Fuck, muscles and bones confining him, animal flesh coating him, caging him…

“You keep that thing away from me,” he warns. “Trick. Even Trick. Even Trick has… you really are just Jack’s, all of you. Dapper is the only one who… fuck you, fuck you…”

Jackie keeps his eyes trained on Anti as the others surround Trick and Dok, Blue desperately checking on the little body in Chase’s hoodie, stroking his little head and calling sympathies at his younger brother.

“Anti,” says Jackie.

“No, no, no,” Anti is chanting, pupils shot. “No, no, no.”

Anonymous asked: The time has come, Anti. You are alone, utterly fucking alone. As you always deserved to be. They won't take abuse from you any longer.

The trees are mocking him.

Monoliths erected in the deep rich earth, subject to the will of a magician and dotted in his cameras, playing out messages to him - alone, alone, alone.

He can hear laughter. His head spins. He runs his hands along the smooth cool surface of a pumpkin, turns his green eye toward you in a red hallway, sinks beneath Jameson’s skin, tilts his head at the Darkness and laughs, stares at you without saying a word, eye twitching. He hears Jack whispering his name and Chase asking who’s there, feels the heat of Marvin drawing away from his own prophecies in terror, smells the scrap paper and ink of a trashed research room with a doctor sitting at a table, trying to fix everything gone wrong.

And he remembers something unseen by the cameras as well, something you have only heard of - screaming out for Jack to save him while his body mangled into hollow bones and winged flesh, watching his creator turn away from him.

There was grief in Jack’s eyes, but no pity.

“No,” he groans. “I wiped all that away. I’m beyond it now. No. You don’t remember.”

He hears one of them breathing and the bloody beat of their mortal hearts.

“We don’t have to remember, Anti,” comes a small, sad voice. “Not the past. You’re right, it doesn’t matter. Not really. But Anti, we want… we want to be happy now. We don’t want to get hurt anymore. You have to let go of us, Anti. We won’t stay here anymore. They’re right… it’s done.”

His eyes flash open and he is present again, his shadow cast over the group of siblings standing below him, guarded and together, shoulder-to-shoulder, side-by-side. They all have the same blue eyes.

And he sees grief, and rage, and hurt, and fear, and love, and determination.

But no pity.

Not one fucking shred of their pity.

“Very well then,” he hears himself breathe out, and he watches alarm fill up their faces as his body begins to shift beyond his control. His face is twitching. He can feel it, but only distantly. He’s numb and his ears ring, high-pitched and screaming. His body distorts and spasms, blood racing down his ivory throat. “You want to play Jack’s games? Let’s play. I only need one of you. And he will be mine whether he wants to or not.”

Dapper steps back, shaking his head, but too late. Too late.

Anonymous asked: None of them belong to you. Not even Jameson. He always said the day the rest of them turn is the day he too abandons you. You don't own any of them, you utter mythic glitch bitch.

“Jameson!”

“Dapper!”

“Leave him alone!”

His body crashes to the ground, fingers scraping at his skull. He feels Anti in his head again, just like he has been since that first day.

“You will never get free of me,” he hears his Anti’s voice scratch at the inside of his brain.

“Stop, stop!” his hands cry. His brothers are screaming for him, crying out.

“Possessing him won’t do anything! We’ll stop you from hurting him!”

“You’ll just confine yourself to flesh, coward. Fight us in your real form!”

“Dapper doesn’t deserve to get hurt, let him go! You’d have to be able to possess all of us at once to get away with this, Anti. You can’t make us your slaves ever again!”

“Fine!” screams Anti’s voice from all around them, and Jackie, Marvin, and Chase all falter to the grass, grabbing at their heads. “You think I can’t? You think I won’t control you all at once with nothing but my own power? I never needed your faith! I will make you mindless!”

Jackie hollers in pain, his skull pounding with a terrible pressure. Chase is on his side, protesting with the voices he can hear. Marvin grips at the grass, shaking his head out, shaking, shaking, shaking.

“You’re - you’re losing control,” he gasps. “You’ll destroy yourself, Anti.”

A foot presses against his throat and chokes him. He opens his eyes, wheezing, and sees, looking back at him – himself. With green eyes and hatred in his face, glitching and broken, distorted and transparent, himself. Marvin and Anti and Blue all in the same being. Turning his gaze with a desperate cry, Blue sees broken beings like shadows standing around his brothers, too, dark versions of themselves, corrupted and in pain.

And he hears a bitter voice, his own bitter, aching voice, lonely and afraid:

“So be it.”

#chapter four

[queenk00k]

but what if we were pure gold all along? jj maybank (chapter 2)

Summary: After the assumed death of their best friend, the Pogues are falling apart at the seams. With Pope and Kiara getting closer and JJ left with nowhere to go, he finds himself left to his own devices. Feeling lost and rejected, his luck seems to turn when he meets Scarlett - a Kook who doesn’t treat him like shit and has an affinity for partying. JJ gets sucked into her world as she promises to help him forget.

How much longer can he keep running from his demons? And what happens when he starts sharing a bed with one?

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, child abuse, angst, sexual content, drug use, underage drinking.

Author’s note: Hi all, this is my multi-chapter fic I’ve been working on. My oneshots & Rafe series have taken off so I thought it was time to share this one too. Let me know what you think!

Word count: 1.9K

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

the one where those damn kooks are charming when they want to be

JJ had never really gotten used to a beating. He knew when to expect one, based off Luke’s mood when he got home, the glint in his eye, the way his tone changed when he spoke to him. Thanks to being scared shitless of his dad for the majority of his childhood, JJ was well attuned to the subtleties of other people’s emotions. Silver lining, he figured. Means he always knew when the other Pogues were pissed at him without them saying anything, always knew when Rafe was looking for a fight.

Didn’t make having the crap kicked out of him any more enjoyable.

“You think I wasn’t going to find out you stole from me, you stupid boy?” Luke spits his words as if they were venom, standing over JJ who’s clutching his stomach in pain on the floor.

JJ looks up at his father, jaw clenched. “I was helping John B, Dad! I thought you’d be happy I was screwing over the cops! We didn’t know about the storm!”

JJ quickly comes to realise that was the wrong thing to say.

Luke’s eyes are aflame with rage, his stare boring holes into JJ as his dad hoists him up by the front of his shirt and slams him into the wall, fists clenched around the cheap cotton.

“Happy?! Boy, nothing about you makes me happy.”

A punch to JJ’s gut.

“You cost me thousands –“

Another blow, this time to his jaw.

“- spend your life doing fuck all except smoking weed-“

JJ attempts to throw Luke off him but the older man is stronger, despite clearly being drunk out of his mind, and he slams JJ back against the wall, knocking a picture onto the hardwood floor in the process.

“And now you’ve stolen from me, you ungrateful, worthless piece of shit!”

Luke slams his fist into the side of JJ’s head and his father’s red face, contorted with rage, is the last thing JJ sees before he falls, unconscious, onto the floorboards.

When JJ comes to, head pounding, he blinks his eyes open slowly and raises his hand to the side of his face. He brings his fingers away from his cheek shakily, notices they’re sticky with blood, touches his lip gingerly and realises that’s split and swollen too.

JJ grunts and moves to roll onto his back before attempting to get up.

Attempting the operative word, as a searing pain in his side forces him to lay back down briefly, hissing at the pain.

Great, he thinks. He’s really done a number on me this time.

JJ lays there for a few moments, staring up at the slightly dilapidated ceiling of the Chateau, listening for any telltale signs Luke was still in the vicinity. He wouldn’t be surprised if Luke stuck around to lay down another beating but he’s grateful for the silence that confirms he’s been left alone once again.

After a few shaky breaths, JJ finally finds the courage to stand to his feet, wincing at the soreness in his body and making a mental note to find an icepack somewhere in the kitchen. Kiara used to be the one to look after him when he showed up at the Chateau after disappearing for days, her gentle touch calming him more than he liked to admit, soothing his bruises and making him feel like someone gave a shit about him.

JJ swallows thickly. He wishes Kiara was here now.

JJ scoffs at the thought and the feeling of tenderness dissipates as quickly as it appears, replaced by the more familiar feeling of bitterness that rises up like bile.

Resigning to the fact that he won’t see Kiara for a very long time because she doesn’t want to see him (conveniently forgetting that it’s not like she has that much choice in the matter), JJ sighs heavily and makes his way down the hall.

JJ ignores the feeling of complete desperation and confusion as he enters his old, dead friend’s kitchen and opens the fridge, silently praying the cops at least had the decency to leave their beer alone.

For the first time in a few weeks, something’s gone his way and JJ cracks open a Budweiser, letting himself smile ever so slightly.

He’s surprised he remembers how.

--

Drinking alone is never as fun as you think it is.

JJ’s sprawled out on the steps of the porch at 1am, beer bottles surrounding him like a shrine, his Zippo the only form of light in an otherwise unusually dark night.

Suddenly, JJ gets the overwhelming urge to take his bike and ride it across the island to Figure 8.

Never mind that he’s drunk, never mind that he knows he’ll find his way back to places that painfully remind him of his friends, and never mind that by taking the risk of going to the other side of the island he could run into a Kook.

Maybe JJ was looking for a fight tonight.

Before he’s had a chance to think rationally (but when does he ever?), JJ is speeding through the streets of Figure 8, past big Kook houses and Kook golf courses, struggling to keep his bike straight as his vision blurs.

He’s doing reasonably well at staying on the road for someone of his inebriated state, and he’s honestly pretty impressed with himself, enjoying the feeling of the warm wind whipping through his hair.

That is, until he realises he’s going past the Crain house and he sees Rose Cameron’s face on a placard and he’s filled with overwhelming rage and he’s distracted and all of a sudden the bike swerves off the road.

JJ panics and makes a futile attempt to straighten up again, but its too late and he skids off the road and is catapulted into a thicket of trees.

JJ groans and pats himself down, checking that he still has all of his necessary limbs. He breathes deeply and squeezes his eyes shut.

Typical, he thinks.

JJ plans to stay lying on the side of the road for the rest of the night, if he’s honest with himself, before a girl’s voice snaps him out of his reverie.

“You know you’re supposed to keep the bike upright, don’t you?”

JJ opens one eye to see someone, a Kook, standing over him. She’s slender and dressed in a white sundress, the contrast stark against her tanned skin, her dark hair tied back in a braid.

JJ huffs. “What do you care, Kook?”

The girl crouches down and looks at his battered face, wincing. It’s not the usual disdain JJ is used to – he thinks he can actually see some pity reflected in her features.

“You look like shit, what happened?”

“Leave me – wait, do I know you from somewhere?”

--

JJ knows he’s a good friend, but sometimes it feels like he’s loyal to a fault.

That’s how he finds himself in the middle of a Kook nightmare, pressed against rich assholes dressed in designer clothes, all for the annual Midsummers party.

JJ’s walking around the perimeter of the country club, looking over his shoulder for Rafe and his henchmen and cursing John B under his breath for putting himself in this situation in the first place.

He’s needing to pretend to be a waiter, so JJ is absentmindedly picking up empty glasses as he goes, feeling grateful he hasn’t had to speak to someone yet.

That is, of course, until he almost trips over a figure crouched down on the patio.

“Woah, you trying to kill me?”

JJ looks down and sees a girl in a black dress, bending down, her fingers wrapped around the neck of a vodka bottle.

“Can I point out that you’re the one in my way? This is a tripping hazard.”

The brunette girl rolls her eyes and gives JJ the finger, but he can tell its not malicious.

“I’ll make you a deal, Pogue.”

JJ widens his eyes in panic. Cover blown.

The girl chuckles. “I know you’re a Pogue. I’m drunk, not stupid. Plus, don’t think I haven’t seen you around at the boneyard.”

JJ hates that he wants to flirt with her, and he clears his throat. “What’s your deal?”

“I won’t tell the Camerons you’re here, practically committing fraud, and you won’t snitch to the country club that I stole their top shelf vodka to spice up my evening.”

JJ’s mildly impressed. “I guess we’re both criminals,” he replies and moves to walk away, before turning back briefly. “I didn’t catch your name.”

The girl smiled mysteriously. “Unimportant.”

--

“Yeah. You nearly tripped over me at Midsummers,” the girl replies, holding her hand out for JJ to take, which he does, and helps him onto his feet.

JJ attempts to dust himself off. “Do I get to know your name now?”

She smiles. “I’m Scarlett. You’re JJ, right?”

JJ nods. “How’d you know?”

“I know some people that know you, but it’s unimportant. I’m sorry about your friend.”

JJ doesn’t want to talk about John B, least of all with a Kook. “Right, well, I best get going,” he says as he turns towards his bike, dreading the ride back to the Chateau.

Scarlett looks at him incredulously. “You look nasty as fuck.”

“Thanks,” JJ responds bitterly.

Scarlett rolls her eyes. “You didn’t let me finish. Let me take you back to mine, help you clean up a bit.”

Then, sensing the hesitation in JJ, she adds “At least let me give you bandaid or something, and you can do it yourself if you’re so tough.”

JJ figures there’s no harm in using someone’s supplies, especially a Kook’s, and it’s not like he can go home to anyone else.

He shrugs. “Sure, whatever, thanks.”

--

After Scarlett convinces JJ his bike will be just fine hidden at the Crain property (the Camerons have more pressing issues at the moment, Scarlett tells him, her voice catching), they make their way to Scarlett’s house.

It’s the biggest and most impressive house he’s ever been in, and JJ can’t help but feel extremely uncomfortable at the thought of stepping into a Kook’s home.

“Where are your parents?” He asks, as Scarlett rummages around in her drawers for first aid supplies, his arms folded over his chest.

“They’re out,” she replies simply, and brandishes cream and bandaids at him. “Are you going to let me do this for you?”

JJ furrows his brow and snatches the supplies from her outstretched hand.

“I’m good, thanks. I can do it myself.”

Scarlett nods and sits down at the edge of her bed in silence, as JJ clumsily cleans his cuts, face scrunched in pain as it stings. He successfully places the last bandaid and looks at Scarlett, who hasn’t said another word.

“I, uh – thanks, I guess,” JJ says awkwardly, placing his hands in his pockets. “I should go.”

Scarlett looks at her phone at the time, 3:30am, and shakes her head.

“You can stay here, it’s late and I have a feeling you’re not quite up to the ride home.”

JJ panics, eyes wide, and resorts back to guarded defensiveness. “I’m not sleeping here. I don’t even know you.”

Scarlett sighs. “You didn’t seem to have an issue with that when you came home with me. Look, you can sleep on my couch,” she says as she gestures towards the plush couch in the corner of her large bedroom.

JJ huffs. Kooks, he thinks, but he nods reluctantly.

It’s the feeling of overwhelming loneliness, coupled with the fact that someone actually cared about him, that leads JJ to spend the night sleeping on a Kook’s couch.

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#tw: violence #tw: child abuse #jj maybank #jj outer banks #jj maybank x oc #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks fic #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #obx #obx fanfic #obx fic #obx imagine #obx fanfiction

[resinatingbeauty]

In Memory of The Best Friend I Ever Had - RIP Shadow (assumed)- 4/30/2021

Shadow showed up at my parents house where I lived at the time, one night back in 2016. I had just gotten home from working at a local country club late in the evening, tired, and physically burnt out from working 40+ hours a week on top of going to college for my associates degree. I saw something pass by the driveway out of the corner of my eye. Something massively fluffy, tail straight up in the air, trotting along. There are many feral cat colonies in this town and many cat owners that lived on that street. Needless to say, I didn't expect this one to whip back around and start chirping at me, rubbing my legs after I called to her.

My mother was adamant when my last two cats had past 8 or so years prior that she wasn't looking for any more pets. My mom loves animals, but she also loves her home and was thinking about doing renovations before adopting any new companions. I knew I was in trouble when this cat came to me with nothing but affection, clearly malnourished, but strangely well groomed. I knew she had to be owned by someone, I had no idea who.

That night I went inside after spending some time enjoying her company. At the time, I was calling 'Charlemange'' as a play on 'Charlemagne'. I had been taking a medieval humanities course at the time and the name seemed fitting enough considering how much scraggly fur she had. Huge paws. Big, fluffy tail and mane. I had never seen a cat so gorgeous around the area. All the feral cats are short hairs, reinforcing my notion that she had to be someone's pet.

I watched through the window slit of the front door as Charlemange played with the moths and other bugs that were attracted to the lamp post my parents have at the end of the driveway and regretted leaving her out there.

I simply thought that Charlemange would return home where she belonged. When I went out to my back screened in patio, whom do you think was waiting for me? Meowing? Charlemange. To my mother's horror, she would launch herself at the screen and hang there to get our attention. Imagine this big ass cat hanging from your screened in porch you've been trying to renovate by all her claws.

She was persistent and Charlemange NEVER returned home, wherever home was.

Eventually, I sealed the deal, low key giving her a can of tuna. Now you see how Shadow went from Charlemange to Shadow.

For about a month, all I had to do was make a high pitched noise and Shadow would come out of wherever brush she was stalking, running and talking until she found me. One evening, I went to give her her dinner, and she shot in the front door.

Mortified, I watched as she scooted right into the one place that I dreaded her to go. My parent's room. That night, as a 20 something, I received a lecture from my father about how my mother felt about pets. 'She isn't a kitten, you know,' he said, 'thats a grown cat. Someone else's cat.'

I just listened and acknowledged what he was saying. I knew there was no point trying to explain what exactly happened. When my dad got done going off on the back porch and went back in to bed, I heard a meow from the patio door. Shadow had been standing at the door, waiting for him to leave , almost like she was saying, 'Hey, I'm really sorry about that, sis,'

Shadow would go on to live in or around the property for nearly a month. I made an effort to find her owners and return her to no avail. Eventually, a single mom I had been working as a private tutor for as a side hustle agreed that she would take Shadow. This would only last for a few months. The family had another cat, Karma, whom had been declawed (I abhor this) and two little girls who had no respect for animals (especially cats) because of this. I knew how the oldest handled Karma and my only solace in handing Shadow over was that I knew she wouldn't be hit by a car, would be fed, loved to a degree, and would scratch the shit out of them if they fucked up.

Their mother ended up calling me, giving me money to bring Shadow in to the humane society, saying she was a wonderful cat, just not the best fit for the girls. I could only imagine what Shadow went through at that house, because the time there changed her. The collar I had on her was returned to me snapped in two. It looked like it had been pulled off. I cringed thinking about it and never put another collar back on that cat. At the time, a woman had been busted hoarding 100+ cats that had all been relinquished to the humane society and local rescues. The humane society's solution for most was euthanasia and I wasn't about that for Shadow. Back to my backyard she went.

Eventually, Shadow won over my mother and my father, especially my father, whom you would never think would love that cat so much. When my mother brought Shadow to the vet, we were surprised to find she had a chip in her ear registered to someone on our block. As per protocol, animal control was sent out to investigate. The woman told animal control that she didn't want the cat. All she did was run away. Shadow's real name was Holly, but she was still Shadow to me.

Shadow became the best friend I ever knew. Not a night went by where she wasn't under my covers sharing the pillow with me, laying stretched out on her back or side as the little spoon. If she wasn't in my bed, she would sit at the door to the bedroom, guarding me or in a chair next to me, always watching. I could do no wrong in that cat's eyes. She was the highlight of my day when I got home from every crappy job I had since. A furry coat to soak up the tears shed during long nights of insomnia and depression. An inspiration for my art and spirituality. My familiar and kindred spirit. If I would talk to her, she would respond with chirps and meows like she knew exactly what I was saying. If someone else was in the room giving her attention and I walked in, she would perk up and run toward me like they never existed. Shadow was the second cat that chose me. I have never chosen a cat from a shelter or adoption / rescue facility. This is how I acquired both my childhood furry friend and Shadow.

It all began when I noticed Shadow's fur was sticky and stiff, like she had been sitting in honey. Just the end of her tail at first. She always had this silly habit of sitting in her food tray, so I cleaned it and her and thought nothing of it until the drooling started.

Shadow had always been a drooler, but not to this extent. Drool bubbles would pop from her left lip. One night, when I came home from work before I started my leave to focus on my Etsy shop, I was horrified to find her sitting on the couch with a bloody chin. Now, there wasn't a large amount of blood, but this alarmed me significantly. It was time to see a vet, like, yesterday. Thankfully, my shop sales had been great and I didn't have to fret over the bill- I was ready to pay whatever it was to make her feel better.

The vet confirmed what I knew deep down and didn't want to acknowledge because the thought was just too painful. Cancer. No chance of survival even if I wanted to go through the hell of treatment, which involved removal of the tongue and jaw. I brought Shadow home and cried, hoping for the best -that the antibiotic would work. The vet said she had been wrong before, it could just be an abscess and it would heal. Shadow was still doing cat things. Shadow was still my best friend, she still loved me, she was still trying to cuddle me at night and surrounding me with the reminder of death in the odor of her breath.

Yesterday, I brought Shadow in to be put to sleep. The decision was made when I looked up from making a rune set and saw puddles of blood on the floor, a stream of it from her face as she was sitting in the window sill. I have never felt so heartbroken. Not even at a family member's funeral. I asked to bring her home, burying her under the tree where I buried my last cat and childhood familiar, Elmo. When I saw the standard biohazard bag peeking up through the dirt, I knew that was where she belonged. With her sister. Yesterday, my heart was buried with that cat. Eleven years was not long enough but each one filled with so much love and happiness. I stood with her until the end. The only peace I feel is that I know that she is no longer hurting. I know she knew I loved her.

I miss you Shadow. To those of you who have recently lost your best friend, your familiar or the love of your life, my heart goes out to you. I hope that someone else can read this and share my pain. I understand that there was nothing I could do but love her. Love your pets. Love them as long and as well as you can- nothing is immortal. We accept this when we commit to caring for our (mostly) furry (sometimes scaly or feathery) friends. This doesn't mean that it hurts any less when we lose them.

To my customers, who have been patiently and diligently awaiting orders while Etsy forced hiatus on my shop, preventing sales during this crisis in addition to my sister in law's wedding and me poking my own eye out back and February- you all are really the best turn of luck I've had. You do not know how much I appreciate you allowing me the time to spend these last few precious moments with her. It truly means the world to me and I hope at the end you receive something worth your time and patience. I have not forsaken fulfillment, and orders are still shipping. Unfortunately, I NEED to reopen and accept new orders, as Etsy is demanding payment for $600 worth of shipping labels. My shop is still appearing as in hiatus at the moment, but I ask for all the support my friends, supporters and followers can offer at this time as I essentially will be working for free when I reopen to pay these fees. Great, right?

If you are awaiting refunds, there is literally no money in the account associated with Etsy. However, as the funds become available, I will be processing refunds / cancellations. I'm sorry for the delays, I never thought I would say I found success at the worst possible time. I urge the rest of you- if you have a deadline for your order for the love of goddess TELL ME. I am getting a little frustrated with buyers (who are frustrated with me, understandably, but still, my item descriptions are clear about relaying deadlines) who are upset or complaining about meeting gift deadlines or other deadlines I literally had no idea about. I'm a decent psychic, but not perfect.

~ Samantha

(Owner/Designer/Creator blursedbaubles.etsy.com)

#cats in boxes #handmade #witchcraft #funny cats #rescue cats #witch familiar #familiars #text post #witchy #witch stuff #ecletic pagan #witch shop on etsy #memorial #remember #cat story #dealing with grief #grief journal #spirit animal #animals #happy pets #pet pics #cats #paganism #crystaljewelry #crystals #witchblr #wiccan #witch cat #witchs familiar #witches of etsy

[jadekitty777]

On Your Six, Chapter 4

Already at chapter 4 - we’re halfway there!

Day 4: Role Swap for @taiqrowweek

Rating: T for this chapter, M for overall

Words: 2.5k

Summary: Qrow was what most of society would call a small-town criminal. But to those oppressed, he hoped only to be a healer. In an effort to make a change in the world, he moves from kingdom to kingdom, searching for branded omegas in need. His goal? To turn the derogatory words the reformatories forced them to bear on their skin into works of art.

Then one day, his past catches up to him in the form of Taiyang, his former best friend, with a brand of his own stained onto his skin and a plea for help in his eyes. Qrow has no choice but to answer, even if it means he’d have to face his mistakes once and for all.

[An ABO-style universe in a modern-day style Remnant. No Grimm, because people are the real monsters in this one]

Ao3 Link: On Your Shoulder

When Qrow was ten, he was declared old enough to be able to spend a week away from home without his folks tagging along. Which meant he was allowed to join Tai’s family on their week-long vacation at their cabin in the woods they went to every summer.

On one condition: He had to bring Raven.

One grisly agreement to do all her chores for an entire month later found him leaping at imaginary foes in the backyard with Tai as they weaved around the maples trees forest of doom.

“Hi-yah!” Tai roundhouse kicked a beowulf into dust. “Harbinger, watch out! Three behind you!”

“You thought you could sneak up on me!” Qrow bellowed, swinging his scythe around him and sliced the three right in half.

Tai rushed past him. “Hurry! I see the exit!”

He followed him, his shorter legs struggling to keep up. But in this case it was a benefit, because he could see his friend’s path was leading him to a patch of dirt ahead. “Tatsu, watch out! Quicksand!”

“What? There’s no – oh noooo!” He wheeled his arms, flopping onto his stomach. He flailed about like a fish. “I can’t get out!”

Qrow frantically flittered at the edge. “Hold on, I’ll get you out!” He circled around to where Tai’s front half was, squatting down. After a moment’s consideration, he scooted off the grass so he was in reaching distance.

“You’re in the quicksand.” Tai whispered loudly.

“I’m not gonna pull you out by your butt.” He whispered back before going back to hero mode. “Reach! I got you!”

Silently agreeing to the no-butt policy, his friend carried on as normal. “No, it’s too late for me. Go, you have to save the kingdom without me!”

“I’d never leave you behind. It’s you and me against the world and we’re gonna stick it out to the bitter end.” Qrow vowed, hoping he sounded just as brave as the Rosette did when she was encouraging her team into the big battle during the finale of Silver Eyes. “Now take my hand!”

Tai stretched his arm out as far as it could go. Qrow scooted a bit more forward, grabbing on.

Just as he was about to pull out his friend and be the big hero, his sister ruined everything. “What are you guys doing?”

They both groaned loudly, pulling themselves off the ground.

“Raven!” Qrow whined. “You’re supposed to stay in the castle until we knock on the door!”

She gave a dismissive glance back at the shed she’d been in since they started their epic journey across the land. “You guys were taking too long. And I finished my book already.”

“Well go get another one and go back in there!” He stomped his foot angrily. Why did she always have to be the worst? They let her be the Last Boss and everything and she still couldn’t get that right.  

“Nah, I’m bored. Besides you’re not even playing it right.”

Tai looked up from the dirt he was trying to pat out of his shorts. “What do you mean?”

“You’re supposed to be the one saving him.” She explained, waving to Qrow. “Omegas aren’t strong enough to save people.”

He hunched down until his shoulders were practically touching his ears. He hated it when his sister was being a know-it-all. “Shut up. It’s our game.”

“Yeah. Besides, Harbinger is a hero. Heroes can do whatever they want.” Tai agreed, reminding Qrow why he was his best friend in the whole world.

Raven wrinkled her nose, making her face look ugly. “That’s dumb. You gotta do it right. Here, I’ll show you.” Then, with no warning at all, she strode over and shoved her hands into Qrow’s chest, knocking him down.

He yelped, trying to catch himself, his palms getting scrubbed raw on the dirt. He bit his lip, eyes starting to water.

“What are you doing?!” Tai cried as he hurried over, pushing Raven back.

Though she stumbled, she didn’t go down like Qrow had. “I said I was showing you! Look he’s already crying.”

The dam he was trying to hold back overflowed the second they were both looking at him. He scrambled to his feet, trying to hide his face as he ran away. Normally, he’d go hide up in his room but he didn’t want Tai’s parents to see him crying because then they might call his parents. Then he might have to go home. The idea only brought more sniveling.

Instead, he found himself clambering into the Secret Cave Tai had shared with him on the first day. It was a hole under the porch where the lattice had broken in. It wasn’t wide enough for an adult, but Tai and he had no problem squeezing through. The ground was littered with random odd and ends – leaves, rocks, a single black feather. They’d collected it all when they had been dragons and were gathering their hordes. He crawled around it all and made his way to the very back where the porch met the foundation of the house, sitting against it and burying his face into his knees.

He was mostly better by the time Tai crawled in beside him.

“I brought you something.” He offered him one of those prepackaged cupcakes with the little white swirls on top.

Qrow scrubbed the last of his tears away, and took the treat with a quiet, “Thanks.” The smell of chocolate hit his nose immediately as he tore into the plastic, taking a huge bite to get right to the frosting inside the middle.

Tai started picking up some of their rocks, throwing them at the lattice. The ones that didn’t slip in between the diamonds made a pleasant knocking noise as they bounced off the wood. When he’d run out of things to throw, he asked, “Wanna go and play some video games?”

The idea of leaving his hiding spot and running into his sister filled him with dread. Unsure how to say that, he just shook his head frantically.

“Okay.” Tai gathered more rocks, giving him a handful. It wasn’t a competition but Qrow started to keep count in his head as he tried to throw more of them through the holes. Though, it quickly became clear who was going to win when his friend was already up to three by the time he got his first one.

He felt like crying again and he didn’t know why.

“Tai?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah.”

Qrow sat on his knees and grabbed his arm, very serious. “You can’t tell anyone else, okay? Not even if they threaten to scratch out your eyes. Not even then!”

“I won’t!” Tai motioned an X over his heart. “I swear.”

Satisfied, he settled back, though the franticness inside him only seemed to increase. Faced with the realty of saying the words aloud was more terrifying than he expected.

But if there was anyone he could trust, it was definitely Tai.

He took the biggest breath he could and let it all out in a rush, “I don’t want to be an omega.”

“Because of what Raven said?” His friend guessed.

“And everything else.” He threw a rock as hard as he could. It rebounded from the wood with enough force that it dropped back between his feet. He threw it again. “You know how we had to go get those tests done at the doctor’s so we’re ready for P.E. next year? I asked mom if I could get the special one like Raven so I could join wrestling too, but she said no, ‘cause it’s too rough for me. I hate it. I can’t do anything Raven does! They always treat her like she’s better.” He hugged his legs again, clutching onto his pants. “And you know what dad said to mom when I was begging to come here with you? He said to let me go because in a few years I won’t even want to be friends with you.”

Tai looked just about as distressed as he felt. “Wait, why wouldn’t you want to be friends with me anymore?”

“I don’t know!” He cried. “‘Cause I guess being an omega means I can’t have fun and I don’t like people and I’ll be sad all the time.”

“I don’t think that’s right.”

“Well, my mom cries almost every day and when I asked dad about it he just said it was an omega thing.”

Still frowning, Tai shook his head. “But my dad doesn’t do that. The only time I’ve seen him cry is during movies.”

“He’s probably hiding it.” Qrow claimed, because it was the only thing that made sense. His mom used to do the same thing. He only knew back then because he could hear it through the wall of his bedroom.

Tai was quiet a long moment, considering that. When he spoke again, it sounded like he was trying to work out the words as they came out of his mouth, “Maybe your dad’s wrong. Maybe it’s not an omega thing, but your mom’s thing.”

“My dad wouldn’t lie to me!” He shouted.

“Maybe he doesn’t know he is. Parents can be wrong.”

“No, they aren’t. That’s why they’re parents.” He claimed, the statement a universal truth.

But Tai had always been better at arguing than him as he pointed out, “Okay, if your dad’s right about everything, then that means he’s right about us not being friends when we grow up.”

Hearing that should have made everything better, but it just made things worse. If he couldn’t believe his mom and dad, then maybe everything was wrong. That was too much to think about.

Qrow turned his head away, curling up even tighter into a ball. He didn’t like this conversation anymore.

There was a bit of shuffling as Tai pressed in close, hugging him.

They didn’t talk again for a long time.

~

“I can’t believe you remember that.” Qrow remarked. His pen was buzzing out brown ink to shade the cave that had sparked the memory in the first place. With the onset of July, the room was sticky and hot, furthering the illusion of that long-forgotten summer day.

Tai peeked an eye open to give him a cursory glance, before burrowing his head further into his arms as a few sweeps came close to his spine. His voice was tight when he spoke, “Well, they say the mind is the first thing to go.”

“The next is motor functions.” He quipped right back as he pulled back to ink up, faking tremors in the hand still lying flat along Tai’s back. “Might just make a mistake here.”

“Don’t you dare!”

Chortling, he steadied before the needle met skin again. He continued the conversation almost absent-mindedly, “I really made a big deal out of nothing back then, huh?”

“Only seems like nothing in retrospect.” Tai contended mildly. “You know, the kids in my class are just like we were back then. Most of them are already worried about presenting – and they’re only eight! The worst of ‘em have parents like ours, who put so much emphasis on what they think their child is going to become and have already started raising them that way.”

“Yeah. It messes with their heads. As if growing up ain’t hard enough.” He scoffed. “Though even if I was raised alpha to begin with, pretty sure I was always destined to have a messy childhood.”

“Well… yeah.” The omega trailed off, unsure what to say.

What could anyone say? Between his mother’s depression that landed her in the reformatory and later death, and his dad’s developing alcoholism that resulted in Raven and he practically raising themselves from middle school onward, Qrow probably had enough issues to fill a lifetime drama series.

(Sometimes, he thought about seeking out his old man. Telling him it wasn’t his fault. That none of them knew how to help mom, least of all the suits who claimed it was just a common case of chronic hysteria.

Thought about it up until he looked in the mirror and saw the scar above his right eyebrow and reminded himself just why he had left home to begin with.)

“Still.” Tai cut through his thoughts, “I think you turned out pretty alright.”

As he pulled back to survey his work thus far, his reply was cheekily derisive, “I’m only a criminal constantly on the run from the law. So, yeah. Doing spectacular.”

But his friend had always been good at giving back what was dished out as he cupped a hand around his ear, “Oh sorry, what was that? Your newest customers are a trio of triplets? And you’re planning on spending the next several days making sure their tattoos match? Wow, you must be really dedicated to what you do to go through so much effort.”

“If you’re going to use my clients as ammo, I’m going to stop telling you about them.” Even to his ears, it sounded painfully childish. Tai grinned like he knew it too. “Come on, break time. I got to switch to the rounders for the yellow.”

Qrow undid his pen from the power cord, heading into the kitchen. His motions were practiced as he started undoing the screws that held the needle chamber in place before popping it open and taking out the needle itself, tossing it in the trash. He turned on the sink, and while he waited for the water to run hot, he heard footfalls beside him. Tai lent his hip against the counter, still modestly fascinated by the way the device came apart despite how many times he’d seen it by now.

Or maybe he just wanted to continue their conversation. “You know, I told myself early on I wouldn’t make the same mistakes my parents did.”

“Meaning?” He asked as he thrust the chamber under the steaming waterfall.

“I want to give my kids the opportunities we didn’t have. So if Yang wants to learn kickboxing and sewing, then damnit, she’s gonna learn kickboxing and sewing. And if I turn around one day and Ruby’s constructed a – a scythe, then I don’t want to tell her how alpha that was of her, I just want her to know I’m proud of her.”

“Bullshit.” Qrow laughed. “You would not be proud of her for making a scythe. You’d have a level five meltdown.”

He smacked his arm. “I was exaggerating! The point is, I want my kids to be able to explore who they are without worrying about upsetting me. Or give them lifelong doubts of whether they disappointed me by not turning out the way I expected them too.”

They weren’t talking about Ruby and Yang anymore.

The water was shut off. Qrow gave his friend a gentle glance. “Lucky for them, they’re being raised by you. You’ve never let stuff like that get in the way before, you won’t let it start with your kids.”

Tai blinked, then beamed bright as the sun. “Thanks Qrow.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now cut it out. You’re gonna make me melt.” Too late.

He already had.

#qrow branwen #taiyang xiao long #Taiqrow #taiqrowweek #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

[angeltrapz]

saw ur post 4 saw asks n im here to deliver!! (also fully gonna answer the one u sent me i just had a busy night 💚) — hmmm would personally love to hear more abt the Matthews-Faulkner-Stanheight-Blank family dynamic? esp maybe Daniel + Art, but rlly just anything u wanna talk abt there! maybe if they have any sorta family traditions, what holidays look like for them, that sorta deal

shfajs tysm!!!! (also tht's totally okay, take yr time!!!)

also oooo I love this question okay. so like u mentioned this when I asked abt what Eric n Daniel's relationship would b like post-trap, but I think it's very very good fr Daniel 2 like. see tht Eric has ppl who love him n who don't mind helping him when he needs it n who are THERE fr him bc again, like you've mentioned, seeing a parent so utterly shattered th way Eric was after his trap is incredibly difficult, esp for a kid (though Daniel is like. at least seventeen? still). knowing tht his dad has a good support system n is surrounded by ppl tht care abt him helps put him at ease bc he knows he can trust Adam n Art. he knows they'll keep Eric safe n tht they'll help him to heal, tht they love him n want 2 see him do well n get better. plus, Daniel knows tht if he needs to talk 2 some1 abt how difficult seeing his dad like tht is, he knows both Adam n Art r there fr him and tht helps a lot. of course, he also has Rigg + maybe Hoffman (until th whole. u know.), but they don't live w Eric. they don't see him every day th way Art n Adam do. that's not 2 say they don't know Eric is struggling, but there is a difference btwn them n Eric's boyfriends. basically, Daniel is very much grateful fr Art + Adam.

I feel like Art wld be VERY good at lending an ear fr when Daniel needs 2 talk. whether that be abt their trap + tht whole experience, Eric's trap n the consequences/rough aftermath, just plain venting, etc.; Art is there 2 listen to them + offer a solution if they want one. most times I think Daniel just wants to b listened to, esp when it comes to what they went thru in the Nerve Gas House - tht's smth they don't feel comfortable discussing w Eric right away fr obvious reasons, but therapy can only do so much. I think th two of them have more in common than they might realize at first, bc hey, Art Killed A Man Because Trevor Was Going To Kill Him If He Didn't, and Daniel Killed A Man Because Xavier Would Have Killed Both Them And Amanda If They Didn't. I feel like Art is like. very reserved abt th details of his first trap + how they affected him (and th second one tbh; it's not smth he vocalizes often at all), but fr Daniel he wld gladly talk abt it if it meant Daniel didn't feel alone. if it meant it could help them, reassure them that hey, it wasn't yr fault, u did what u had to, n I know tht can be hard 2 believe right now n that's okay. u need to process things at yr own pace.

and so Art tells them abt the Mausoleum, bares a part of himself he keeps locked away where he doesn't often give it much thought/actively ignores it. n I think tht's healing fr him too, maybe. there's solace in tht shared experience, as horrible as it was in th moment. 2 know there's someone out there who has even th faintest inkling of what u went thru + what u had to do to survive. of course Daniel relates 2 Adam fr this reason too, but like. Art will use his Lawyer Voice n make sure Daniel understands tht what they did doesn't make them a bad person or confirm tht Jigsaw Was Right And They Deserved It. n tht's rly important fr Daniel 2 hear, esp early on. it's honestly one of th first times Art is truly honest abt his feelings on th matter + the Mausoleum, n it's just. a step tht much closer to healing for both of them.

family traditions!!! they do have a few! in the summer, every sunday they have Daniel w them, Eric Art n Adam go out fr ice cream, even if they get it at the drive thru n eat it in th car bc none of them want 2 be around all th people/sit outside in th muggy weather. it's a good way to get them all out of th house fr a little while, something enjoyable tht doesn't require too much energy or even interaction. it's just smth nice they can do where they're all together n chilling n just enjoying each other's company!

this is mostly a Daniel one but every year around April Fools he just. puts fucking googly eyes on everything. n every time some1 discovers some, it doesn't matter where in th house he is, u can hear him cackle abt it. Adam thinks it's an absolute delight n has assisted on multiple occasions. tht's abt as far as pranks go fr them, bc none of them like surprises like that, but god is it ever hilarious 2 hear Eric frm the kitchen while Art Adam n Daniel r in the living room when he says "I found another one!" while he's looking fr smth in the fridge kjdkfsf.

holidays!! every Christmas they all sit down in th living room n watch a couple of movies w the blankets spread out on th floor w snacks n hot chocolate. the first Christmas following his trap, Eric was sat on th couch between Adam n Art while Daniel chose to sprawl out on th floor, n he just looked around at his boyfriends n his son n the fake pine tree they had all decorated together n he like. needs to take a moment bc this is it. this is all he cld ever want out of life right here. this is a level of peace Eric never knew he wld ever be able to reach after what he went thru fr those six months. n he just sort of presses his face into Art's shoulder n breathes thru it. he doesn't even have to say anything fr Adam n Art to know what he's thinking bc Adam's hand is on his arm n Art's resting his cheek against th top of his head, n he might cry a little, but he's happy. surrounded by th ppl he loves n who love him, love him enough to keep the lights down low n the volume on th television soft, to use subtitles so he doesn't get overwhelmed, Eric realizes he has a home n it's just. oof.

fr Valentine's Day, this one was actually Adam's idea initially: wht they do is take sticky notes n write little affirmations on thm fr each other, n stick thm in places where they'll see it. sometimes Daniel joins in on this one, but usually it's an Art Eric Adam thing. so like it'll be little things, like a note frm Adam telling Eric how proud he is of him, or one from Art letting Adam know he couldn't have had a better best friend, or th one from Eric that thanks th both of thm fr helping him w his rashes + helping him 2 accept tht part of him n start to see it as nothing to be ashamed of. it starts on th first day of February and ends on Valentine's Day itself, n sometimes they get those packs of cards u get fr kids just to write goofy shit on thm to pass back n forth n make each other laugh. they also get th discounted candy!! (Adam steals all th twix bars tho. tht's okay bc Eric likes snickers anyway n Art is fond of reese's peanut butter cups. they share th sweet tarts + conversation hearts!)

Halloween is when they get a big bowl of candy 2 leave on th porch fr the kids who're trick-or-treating while th three of them stay inside (+Daniel sometimes!) n watch some classics, like their Christmas tradition. they Also add in some bad movies 2 mix it up a lil bit bc sometimes u just need a laugh. I am like in Lov w the idea u had abt Eric n Adam sometimes building cozy pillow forts, so they do tht n the three of them just vibe in there n lay together n look n talk. n like it's So Much Fun 2 have ppl to like. discuss movies w while yr watching them! esp when they're ppl who won't be annoyed w u when u wanna share a thought! like Eric n Adam will get into this deep discussion abt horror movie decisions n Art will just lay there n listen bc he loves them so much n loves hearing them get amped up abt things. he'll offer his own two cents if asked too! mostly he listens, but he can definitely contribute.

inevitably at some point, someone's hand ends up in Eric's hair n he's just. asleep not too long after that. usually on someone's shoulder or against their chest, n depending on who's still awake, they either try 2 move to th bedroom or they just sleep in th living room (i.e.: Art will try to convince Eric n Adam to come to bed properly, whereas Adam will just b like "fuck it" n pass out right there. has this led 2 them waking up sore b4? absolutely. but it's like. "we r adults who live w our decisions n this one happened 2 be sleeping on th floor" so.

n then a minor one is on their birthdays, some1 (usually Art, to be completely honest w u) will cook tht person their favourite comfort food fr dinner n they all help make cake/cupcakes/cookies/something dessert-related of their choice. so like Art rly likes brownies, Adam is fond of strawberry jello poke cake, n Eric can make some RLY good carrot cake cupcakes w homemade frosting too. it's just smth fr them to do together + like! it's celebrating! they've all been thru so much hell but they're still here! n that's rly th focus for the three of them. sometimes they have ppl over too - like Rigg, Gibson, Brit, Mallick, Lawrence, William (all of them best-case, obv); it's nice 2 have a lil party sometimes! after what they've endured they've kind of earned it I think!

thank u sm!!! this was so fun 2 think abt fjdkjsk

(lil random hc: when Daniel was little, Eric used 2 write letters to him frm Santa. eventually Daniel got "too old for that," but honestly? they cherish tht memory. I wanted 2 include it bc it makes me kjehfje!!!)

#thank u so much I love getting asks frm u!!!!!! #mutual support hours <3 #saw #eric #adam #art #daniel #others r mentioned #listen. a family can be u yr dad n his two boyfriends n yr all traumatized but yr coping together. #it pulls u together instead of tearing u apart. #which is a concept I desperately wish we could've seen more!! it's what they all deserved damn it!! #long post #asks #gnna go thru n tag these w that so I can like. maybe make a masterpost l8r? #if any1 is interested in tht!