Bite Sized Bits of Fic

Leonard Snart was not a man who believed in fate. He was the type of man who grabbed fate by the balls and yanked them off.

On the other hand, his partner, Mick Rory, more than made up for his unbelief. If there was a superstitious belief, Mick had it. For years, the burly Irishman had carried around a four-leaf clover he’d found. And his favorite lighter was the first one Len himself had swiped way back in juvie.

So when they saw the sign for the gypsy fortune teller; Leonard really wasn’t surprised to feel a large hand latch onto his coat. A minute later, he was being towed towards the shop. “Can’t we talk about this?” he asked.

“Nope,” was the succinct reply.

“I’m not paying for it,” Leonard bluffed as he was tugged into the building.

Mick simply favored him with a look.

“I’m not,” Leonard insisted, half to himself.

A tiny, salt and pepper haired woman bustled out of the back room. She almost as round as she was tall, and resembled a Russian nesting doll more than anything. “Madame will tell you future,” she declared. “For a pittance.”

Mick turned his eyes on Leonard, who shook his head. “Mick, no. If you want it done, you pay.”

The pyro grumbled, but dug his wallet out of his pocket. “How much?”

She eyed them for a moment before declaring, “Ten dollars.”

Mick grunted, pulling a twenty out of his wallet and handing it over. “Do him first.”

“Mick,” Leonard tried to protest, even as the woman plucked the bill out of Mick’s hand.

She made it disappear with unforeseen swiftness before grabbing Leonard’s arm with her claw-like hand. With astonishing strength, she towed him towards the table; shoving him into the customer chair. “Sit,” she demanded, then waddled around to the other side. When Leonard made a move to get out of the chair, she tsk’ed at him and he eased back into place. “Hand,” she commanded.

The thief glared, but held his left hand out. After a minute, he said, “I told you this was a crock.”

“This is not your most used hand.” She reached out, grabbing his right hand from where it rested on the table.

Leonard tried to pull back, but she held tightly. For a minute, she studied his hand, turning it this way and that before declaring, “You have eventful life.”

“I could have told you that,” Leonard drawled.

“And you will die in your best friend’s arms.”

Both men froze.

“What. Did. You. Say?” Mick’s voice rumbled out of him, turning darker with each word.

She didn’t look startled by the reaction, staring back at the larger of the two men. “He will die. In arms of best friend.”

This time a shrug was his answer. “All future not always clear.” She made a shooing motion towards Leonard. “His turn.”

“No,” Mick growled. “Gimme my money back.”

She shook her head, her demeanor never changing, and Mick reached around behind his back.

Leonard knew he had a gun tucked into the back of his pants and he grabbed his partner’s wrist, drawling, “Mick. Leave it.”

“Len,” Mick attempted to protest.

“No,” Leonard commanded. “Let’s go.”

Still grumbling, Mick headed for the door. Leonard waiting until the bulkier man had slammed through the door before turning to face the fortune teller. “I don’t know what game you’re playing,” he said in a low voice, “but you won’t win. I won’t leave him.”

The first crack showed in her façade as he stared her down. “Only tell what I see,” she attempted to tell him.

“Next time. Keep it to yourself.” With those final words, Leonard straightened up and went to follow his partner. He would find a way to be sure the old witch’s prediction didn’t come true.

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tigriswolf

Thank you!

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Very welcome!

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tigriswolf

The Flash (2014), Leonard Snart/Mick Rory,

I think I’d rather keep the bullet this time. It’s mine, you can’t have it, see,
I’m not giving it up. This way you still owe me, and that’s
as good as anything.
You can’t get out of this one, Henry, you can’t get it out of me, and with this bullet
lodged in my chest, covered with your name, I will turn myself into a gun, because
it’s all I have,
because I’m hungry and hollow and just want something to call my own. I’ll be your
slaughterhouse, your killing floor, your morgue and final resting, walking around with this
bullet inside me
‘cause I couldn’t make you love me and I’m tired of pulling your teeth. Don’t you see, it’s like
I’ve swallowed your house keys, and it feels so natural, like the bullet was already there,
like it’s been waiting inside me the whole time.
Do you want it? Do you want anything I have?

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tigriswolf

Animorphs, Tobias/Rachel,

The way you slam your body into mine reminds me
I'm alive, but monsters are always hungry, darling,
and they're only a few steps behind you

Edited Date: 2017-09-23 05:04 am (UTC)

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tigriswolf

Supernatural, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, I will come back from the dead for you. / I’ll keep walking toward the sound of your voice.

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Any, any, what have become of my dreams?

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Any, any/any, hell is the distance between our lips/heaven is the taste of your kiss

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Any, any, moon

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profshallowness.livejournal.com

Gotham looks different in moonlight, a little softer, almost beautiful. Selina should know. When the moon comes out, the cat will play, even in this jagged playground. Sometimes she wants to be alone, but sometimes she wants a playmate, and the Batman is such fun, with his jaw of disapproval.

She’s touched that jaw with light fingertips, before it knew stubble, but the strength of the bone was always there. A kiss in Gotham Manor, when Bruce had been impossible, as always, trying to be a knight she was determined not to need, and yet the fact that he cared had got under her armor. So, she’d sheathed her claws for him, and not for the last time.

Some nights, she feels the crazy pull at her blood, and she cartwheels and dances in her own way over the rooftops that are so familiar. Some nights, she’s focused on a job, on following all the steps she’s planned out that’ll get her the score she needs to survive and then some. Some nights, Batman spoils her fun, or some jerk tries to burn down their city and she has to decide what side she’ll land on.

Selina sighs, watching her breath fog up the glass of this penthouse window. The moon is going down now over the bay. The city is as safe as she thinks Gotham will ever get.

“Come back to bed,” Bruce mumbles, an echo of the Bat-voice in his rumble, which makes her think he’s woken up enough his doze to be ready for round two. Deciding she has better things to do than stand and wait for the sun to rise, Selina turns her back on the window, and returns to the bed with a sway to her hips that makes him chuckle.

From:

Awesome!! Thank you so much!!!!

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profshallowness.livejournal.com

You're welcome. Thank you!

From:

4bdnsn0wflake.livejournal.com

This is wonderful. Great job!

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profshallowness.livejournal.com

Thank you very much.

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Harry Potter, Harry Potter (gen), ripple effect.

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Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Buffy Summers, "Sometimes you fight what you are, and sometimes you give into it. And some nights you just don't want to fight yourself anymore, so you pick someone else to fight." (Laurell K. Hamilton, Incubus Dreams)

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Any, any, shooting star.

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Any, any, the truth is hard to swallow when you're choking on your pride.

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Any, any, flip a coin.

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Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, reunion

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Any, any m/m, one wants a family and the other doesn't

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Marvel Cinematic Universe, Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes, apartment hunting

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After Steve’s mother died, Bucky had joked about Steve coming to live with his family; joked about throwing a mattress on the floor and Steve doing laundry to earn his keep. He never thought that he’d be searching for an apartment to share with Steve.

“Did you find anything of interest today?” Steve asked as he entered their Tower suite and dropped his bag to the floor.

Since Bucky returned from Wakanda and they’d defeated Thanos, the two friends had been staying in the Tower. Steve and Tony’s relationship was still tempestuous, but at least Tony was no longer attempting to kill either of them. Bucky honestly just tried to stay out of Tony’s sight.

Bucky shrugged in response, blue eyes scanning Steve as the other man moved across the room. He looked tired, but Bucky couldn’t see any visible injuries.

Steve sank down onto the couch next to him, slowly listing over until he was leaning up against Bucky. “I’ll get up and make dinner in a minute,” he mumbled as his eyes drifted closed.

“I can cook, punk,” Bucky said affectionately.

“Jerk,” Steve retorted, apparently too tired to come up with more of a response.

“I found a couple of apartments for us to look at,” Bucky said when nothing else was forthcoming from Steve after a minute. “A couple of them are even in Brooklyn. I thought we might take some time tonight to go check out the neighborhoods.” He looked down when there was no response and realized Steve had fallen asleep sitting up. “Or you can sleep,” he said, looking at the other man fondly.

Shifting into a more comfortable position, he settled in. He’d waited for worse things.

So it doesn’t exactly follow the prompt… if you want me to try again, just let me know.

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Who says it has to exactly follow the prompt? That's just inspiration, and I think you nailed it in any case. Woo!

I love that Steve and Bucky are looking for their own place, but even more I love Steve falling asleep on Bucky, and Bucky just settling in for the duration. So sweet!

Thank you so much!

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