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thoughts-on-bangtan · 4 years

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Which member do you think is the most supportive of VMIN?

Admin 1: For a change I’ll be the one that’ll use comparatively few words since I don’t have that big of an opinion. As much as I enjoy joining in on the jokes about how Jimin is the president of the Namjinists (due to his April Fool’s Day joke tweet from years ago and other such things), I’ve never given much thought to who among the members might be the most supportive of vmin.

But perhaps I’d say it could be Hoseok due to his general fondness of both Jimin and Tae as individuals but also as them together, how he said his favorite song off of MOTS7 is Friends and even sung it during the FESTA karaoke with the iconic (very suggestive and heavy on the implications) hip thrust during Tae’s “hey, Jimin, oneul” part. I’m sure you know exactly what I mean. Also if we consider that Jimin and Hoseok were roommates for a long time, I guess it wouldn’t be too far-fetched of an assumption to make on my part that surely they had a number of deep late night talks over the years, and chances are Jimin would’ve sought out advice from Hoseok during one of them, perhaps even confided in him about his feelings for Tae (regardless which ones, both would be valid and something you’d talk about with a close friend).

Another option might be Namjoon, since he’s the leader and thus certainly the person who would have to know about such developments within the group for obvious reasons, but also it seems like Namjoon sought out consolation and advice from both Jimin (like that scene in BV4 around the bonfire off to the side from the group) and Tae (like the story he told at 5th Muster Seoul (?) about how he was kind of sad/feeling off so he talked to Tae before the encore and what Tae said made him feel better), meaning they are more than close enough to bring up certain topics with each other. So, based on that, it doesn’t seem too much of a stretch that he would stand up/look out for them if need be in conversations with BH etc.

That being said, regardless of how we interpret vmin and their bond, I think it’s safe to say that all the members are endlessly supportive of them, just like they are with any other duo within the group, though it’s easy to see that they do highlight vmin at times as something…special. A bond that’s noteworthy, stands out, even within a group as close as they are.

Admin 2: Chances are that what I think and am about to say might be a bit controversial. At the same time I’d like to note that this is only my personal opinion and theory, and not some kind of proven fact, yes? Perhaps no one will agree with me, but after putting many thoughts into this and looking at different content and events that have transpired over the years, as well as some other factors I’ll explain later, these are the conclusions I’ve drawn when it comes to the members and vmin. Furthermore, I don’t want to negate/comment on other ships since those don’t really play any role in this the way some might assume.

I think it’s important to remember that BTS basically exist in two version (though they are closely intertwined):

1: the idols on screen, who stand on stage, who share their music with us, who film content and who, to a certain degree, play a role, keep up an appearance that’s part honest and part mystery.

“I think V can show parts of Kim Taehyung and parts of V, but Kim Taehyung can’t show V. Kim Taehyung is Kim Taehyung. Kim Taehyung is someone who’s still filled with a lot of curiosity and he’s inquisitive about a lot of things. There are so many things he wants to do. Also I think there’s so many things he is curious about.” – Tae, Break the Silence: Persona

2: the real-life humans with private lives, private friendships and personalities that are similar but not quite the same as what we know and see.

Both of these are real in their own right, and both of them influence each other in more ways than one. So, when we look at vmin in the context of both, the question of support and showing certain things and how those affect version 1 and 2 are tricky, multifaceted and much more complex than some imagine or present it as. Because the moment we assume private life vmin are real, that sort of swift in dynamic ultimately also affects their work and demands adjustments from all parties involved, especially the other members. A large portion of what they do and say on screen or anywhere that we can see it is, to a certain degree, planned or has been discussed prior.

More below the cut since this kind of got long:

In one of the Break the Silence episodes Namjoon spoke about how with the more recent tours they haven’t been really able to do as much “free style” stuff (as in moving freely around stage and being silly, that sort of thing) between songs with choreographies, as opposed to how it used to be in the early days, since much of the show is perfectly timed and planned down to every little detail and every single light surrounding the stage. Much the same way everything else sure is, too. Look at RUN, even there you can notice them looking at printed out pages that surely contain a short storyboard of how the episode should more or less go in general terms, since that makes editing and keeping things cohesive much easier, especially since BTS are seven people, therefore seven moving independent variables.

Keeping all of this in mind, I’ve come to the conclusion that, in my opinion, the biggest vmin supporter is JK, followed by Hobi and Namjoon. I don’t mean, by any means, that completely idiotic theory some have created that one ship hides another, because that isn’t at all what I am going for with this. Of course Tae and JK are T*ek*ok (a subunit name they’ve after all created themselves though that context of that moment has long been changed by people) and Jimin and JK are J*ko*k, and depending on the demand (from a PR point of view as well as those of fans) and situations, those ships are utilized/highlighted in certain ways to achieve certain things. With this I don’t mean to belittle the actual real-life bonds between the real-life members, merely the “fantasy” versions created in large parts by shippers.

But that isn’t what I mean. Let me explain.

There are several situations that I think support my theory/opinion, past and more recent, but for the sake of fresh memories that we’ll all be able to recall, I’ll use more recent ones. During their vlive when BE and Life Goes On were just released, the one where they wore PJs, had pizza and that cardboard cutout of Yoongi, there was a moment when Tae was supposed to put lipstick on Jimin. He pulled Jimin close with his arm around his shoulder while Jimin giggled and playfully pretended to try and push him away or stop him from doing it, despite seemingly holding on to his top to keep him close anyway. While that was happening, the other members checked what they were doing and notably JK, upon seeing what vmin were up to, moved a few steps away closer toward the cameras and stood as though between vmin and said cameras while holding that silver screen thing used for lighting in photography (I’m not sure how it’s called). Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but seeing as Namjoon, who carried the Yoongi cutout, joined him, it seemed like they were trying to hide vmin, which of course didn’t work out since the producers simply switched to a different camera.

This might be me going temporarily delulu but toward the end of that sequence there was a moment where we couldn’t see much of vmin save for the tops of their heads. At some point Tae made a move with his head which some (including myself) have interpreted as a potential smooch (as in an actual one or just him pretending/doing the motion of it, that’s up for debate) which caused Hobi to break out in loud laughter.

A second example is day two of MOTS ON:E when it was time for Dynamite. Usually vmin just walk past each other doing something funny or interacting in some way, but on that day instead Jimin pulled Tae closer, enough so that their foreheads touched, and they looked at each other in quite a meaningful way. At the same time JK stood right behind them, since he’s the one that opens the song, and watched what was happening. Just like with the above example, he stepped toward them and put his hand on the back of Tae’s head in a gesture that I interpreted as a form of safety measurement that IF vmin were to potentially do something…risky, he could intervene by quite literally pulling them apart/stopping them. This moment of course has been twisted and manipulated in many different ways to, for example, showcase some supposed jealousy or alike, but I think that’s just plain stupid.

I’d also like to show you a few other pictures that I think show us the kind of dynamic he really has with vmin, how he watches (over) his hyungs with affection and support, so to speak:

(the following pictures, left to right: JM, JK, TH)

The sole fact that three maknae ships can exist simultaneously, while vmin might be the likely one to be real, in my opinion shows that everything between the three of them must be more than okay, that there’s harmony and understanding between them, everyone knowing their place/role exactly, that there’s no jealousy or other negative emotions involved. Even more so when we consider the stakes that come with it all, at the top of it all being money, not only for the members but also BH (including everyone who invested money in stocks, as well as all their employees that need to be paid). And the fact that BTS aren’t rookies anymore, but instead they have a big and very relevant role in a broader sense when it comes to influence, power, and fame.

Look at how professional they are when it comes to being idols and everything that entails, including shipping. Just look at how despite Tae’s Weverse comment to that one shipper, and the conversation in In The Soop, they played their roles so convincingly that no one who is in favor of that ship is willing to believe them or consider that perhaps they were wrong. But, this is more of a topic for another post, so I’ll leave it at that.

Looking at all these moments, bigger and smaller ones, gestures that some didn’t even notice or did but interpreted in a completely different way for their own reasons, it brought me to the conclusion that JK is their biggest supporter.

Just like Admin 1 said, I also think that Hobi and Namjoon are big supporter as well. Although I can’t for the life of me remember the piece of content where he said this (if anyone knows, please do let me know), I recall a moment where Namjoon spoke to Tae and said that he’s his responsibility, which made me wonder if that perhaps meant that Namjoon gave his vote of confidence about Tae (and vmin) to BH or agreed to keep an eye on him/them to keep them in check. But that’s just a thought/theory.

At the end of the day, whatever our opinion may be, we have to remember that we know very little about their private life, a tiny percentage if even, so it’s important to stick to/pay attention to/based our opinions on the original material and what the members say, instead of taking into account edited videos on YT or opinions influenced by others agendas, but that, too, is something to be discussed in a different post.

Thank you for this interesting question!

#answered ask #answered ask by admin 1 #answered by admin 2 #vmin #bts #bangtan sonyeondan #a little discussion on the dynamic within the group in a vmin context #jimin #taehyung

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headcans-oneshots-and-stuff · 4 years

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Changes... (Batsis OS)

Warning: Angst, self-degradation, OOC Bruce, Angst again, body-shaming (mentioned) Word count: 3094 Summary: Your family notices that you start to change. When you deny the changes they start to investigate... What they find doesn’t make them happy.

This was requested by an astonishing Anon: Hi! First of all, I love your blog! I was wondering if you could write about the bat family defending their bat sister from a fat-shaming boyfriend. Please and Thank you!! 😁 A/N: This went way further and into a completely different direction than I had expected...But I still like it and I hope so will you. It’s not really about the defending and more about the consoling, but I added some defending (more or less) at the end. I also knowingly tried not to actually say what body type the reader has so that everyone can imagine they’re own version. Body shaming can go in both directions after all.

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. They couldn't quite put their finger on it, but something about the way you acted and held yourself seemed different to your family. Other than one would think it wasn't one of your siblings who lived with you who noticed it first. Maybe it was because they actively tried to ignore it, or it was because they didn't want you to be different than usual, but nonetheless, the person who noticed first was Duke. Ever since he became the signal, ever since he became part of the family, you, as the heart and soul of Wayne Manor, made it your personal quest to make him feel included. And as part of this quest, the two of you met up bi-weekly for- how you called them- "brother-sister-dates". You always made 100% sure to cancel everything else in order to attend. So when you cancelled one, saying you didn't feel well and that you'd make it up to him the next time, he was confused. But it wasn't enough to worry him. But when you cancelled the next date because you had "other business that just couldn't wait," was when it started to bother him. But he didn't have any real proof that there was something wrong so he couldn't do anything but mentioned it to the rest of the family when they were going through Gotham on your day off.

It was then that the rest started to realize it too. At first, they saw little changes. That you went to your room almost every day as soon as you came home. That you sat there quiet when it was time to eat dinner. That your smile stopped reaching your eyes. It was almost uncanny. But when they asked you about it, you smiled and waved it off. Said things like: "Don't be silly, everything is alright," or "Don't worry your pretty little heads, I'm fine." That calmed them for a while, but it still gnarled on their minds. But then the big changes came. You started to stay out after school longer, coming back in the evening saying- much to Alfred dismay- that you've already eaten. You asked Bruce to be excused from Patrol for a while, saying that you didn't feel like you were on top of your game and since he also realized that something was wrong, but didn't know what to do about it, he allowed it, saying that a few weeks without you, while you were training, wouldn't be a problem. The biggest change where your clothes. You usually wore things with fun, colourful prints on them. Dresses with roses and tulips. Skirts with numbers and signs. Blouses with Avocados on them. And you usually wore fitting pumps or sneakers. Some people would compare the way you dressed to how they imagined a modern fairy to dress. But now... Now you wore dull oversized sweaters over duller oversized shirts with grey, black or dark-blue jeans and black shoes. Jason recognized some sweaters to be his, others looked like they could be from Bruce himself. It was like you were trying to disappear in the fabric. But again, when they asked you, you found a way to escape the question. It was then that they had enough. Something was very, very wrong with you and they intended to fix it. They wanted their sunshine back. Their Y/N. And so the trailing began. After a rather violent fight about who would be the best choice, it was Cass who was waiting on the roof of Gotham Acadamy for the bell to ring and you to leave school. What happened after wasn't what she expected. When you stepped out of the building there was a boy walking along with you. He had his arm around your shoulder and smiled at you, but- even though you also smiled- your whole posture told Cass that you felt uncomfortable and inferior. The two of you walked to an old, rusty car parked on the school ground and got into it, immediately driving away. It was easy for your sister to keep up with the car, but something bothered her. Here and there she caught glimpses of you on the passenger seat and there was a darkness in your eyes that made her blood boil. The car stopped at an apartment building in one of Gotham's nicer neighbourhoods and the boy, who held your wrist tightly and dragged you along as if you were an in-obedient dog, entered and drove with the elevator to one of the higher level apartments. With some swift movements, Cass found herself standing on one of the windowsills that allowed insight into a room that seemed to belong to a boy your age and was this highly likely to belong to whoever you went with after school. Her thesis proved positive when the door opened and the boy, still dragging you by the wrist, came storming in. After he had closed the door he finally let you go and Cass noticed how you started rubbing the spot where his hand had been. Her anger started bubbling up further, but she couldn't intervene. She watched as you sat down onto his bad, seemingly making yourself as small as possible, while the boy ravaged through his room. Talking constantly and keeping on making a mess with his things, seemingly no real goal in mind. Sometimes it seems like he asked you questions, but he never waited for an answer, only looking at you annoyed before getting back to what he was doing before. That went on for almost an hour, now and then he stopped on one spot for a few minutes, playing with something or just looking at you with some unidentifiable look in his eyes. You never said a word, never moved either. Then he finally stopped and sat down beside you on his bed. His hand found yours, but you made no move to escape his grin. In fact, you returned the hold and kissed him on his cheek. Cass's eyes widened and she was utterly bewildered when the boy turned his head and his lips met yours in a kiss that would be sweet if the boy wasn't such a brute about it. The hand that didn't grab yours moved to your thigh and harshly grasped it. Cass's hand was raised and she was close to crashing the window and getting you out of his grasp, but then the boy stopped kissing you and moved away. He looked...disappointed. Cass saw that he sighed and she saw the look of displeasure in his eyes and the look of regret in yours. You said something and Cass read the words "I'm sorry," from your lips. That seemed to anger the boy even further and the following conversation- or rather monologue- was loud enough for Cass to hear it through the window. The family really had to do something about this situation.

The sun was already leaving the sky when you came home. You hadn't noticed Cass following you on your way, nor did you notice the eerie quiet filling the manor. You only noticed something was off when you got to your room and found your dad sitting on your bed. He was looking at a picture that usually sat on your bedside table. It depicted a scene that happened on a stormy fall day a few years earlier. You had made big plans to go to a fair with all your siblings, but they all had to cancel because of the weather. The disappointment had been crushing, but Damian, Cass and Tim wouldn't let you stay so sad. They came into your room, told you to get dressed in rainproof clothes and immediately left again. When you came outside in your bright yellow rain boots, jacket and hat, you were welcomed by the sight of your family in matching rain outfits in all different shades of black, red and, in Steph and Babara's case, purple. That was how it came to the picture. On it, you were sitting on Jason's shoulders, your arm around Damian who sat on Dick, with the rest of your family in similar positions beside you, all of you soaking wet. Soaking wet, but happy. Bruce noticed your presence and looked up, meanwhile laying the picture back at its place, a sad smile on his face. He patted the space beside him. You sighed, but complied with his silent demand and sat down beside him. As soon as you were beside him he embraced you with one arm and pulled you to him, laying his chin onto your head and keeping you close. You reciprocated the hug warily, not quite knowing what this could be about. Had something happened? Did someone die? were the thoughts that immediately filled your head. After a few minutes, Bruce let go of you again but kept his hand on your shoulder. "Is-Is everything okay?" you asked worried, your brows furrowed. "Don't worry, everyone's fine, I'm not here to give you any bad messages." "Then why are you here?" you asked, now rather confused by the situation. Your father wasn't a cold man or anything like that, but he wasn't the most emotional person either. you were happy to get a hug or an "I'm proud of you" once in a while, but that was how things were with him. "I noticed," he started, but seemed to wrestle for words, "that you have been absent lately." You flinched, hoping he wouldn't notice, but knowing that he most likely did. It wasn't easy to hide things from the 'greatest detective in the world'. "It's really nothing, okay?" you said softly as if you were the one who comforted him, "I'm a teenager. I'm just going through some girl stuff right now." That was your ace. The 'girl-card'. Something Bruce couldn't quite refute and would hopefully get him off your back for the time being. He would most likely ask one of your sisters to ask you again a few days from now, but you would be able to think something up until then. Now you just wanted some peace. "I know that you're lying," blocked Bruce your excuse with a hesitating voice. It threw you off. "What?" "Listen, I know I should've tried to talk to you first, but," he sighed and you noticed that he took his hand away, "I asked one of your siblings to follow you." Your eyes widened, while what Bruce just said sunk in. "You- You did what?" you asked, your voice trembling dangerously. "We all noticed that something is wrong with you. I didn't know what else to-" "How could you!" you screamed, jumping off of the bed and backing away from Bruce. "Y/N, listen-" "NO! YOU LISTEN! IT'S MY LIFE AND, AS LONG AS I DON'T WANT IT TO BE, IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS WHAT'S GOING ON INSIDE IT!" Now Bruce stood up, trying not to seem threatening, but still towering over you. "Y/N, we are just very worried okay? You're keeping things from us, then you start your wardrobe, and now-" he stopped and looked at you unhappily. His eyes were full of sadness and something that you identified as pity. Seeing that expression cooled you down a bit. Your trembling shoulders coming to a rest. Bruce sat down again and looked at his hands as if you were a wild animal that could be driven away when you got looked at wrong. You stayed where you were, maybe not as furious as before, but still angry. For a while, it stayed silent in your room, neither of you moving from where you were. It was as if time stood still. It was Bruce who broke that stasis. "I know about the boy." Your breath hitched and you crossed your arms in front of your chest, thinking that you knew where this was supposed to go. "I wanted to tell you, okay? We only become an item a few weeks ago, I was still searching for a way," you said somewhat bitterly. "That's not what I meant." "It's not?" now you were confused again. "Then- then what do you mean?" "Cass heard what he said to you. What he called you." Your heart skipped a beat and not in a good way. You wanted to say something, but the words got stuck in your throat and all that was left were the tears build up in your eyes. Bruce was still not looking at you, but you noticed that he was clenching his fist angrily. "How could you just let him say these things to you?" You managed to swallow the lump of unsaid words in your throat, finding the energy to say something. "It's not like that... He- He really loves me," you mumbled, still not being able to fight the tears that now threatened to spill. Your dad finally looked at you with a look of utter unbelief plastered over his face. "How can you think that?" "He told me," you mumbled weakly, avoiding his eyes and sliding down onto the floor below you. "Y/N, sweety, please look at me." You kept looking at the floor, not wanting to see the disappointment in his eyes. "Please," he said again and his shoes came into your field of view. You took a deep breath and rubbed over your eyes to clean them from the tears that fogged your sight. Then you looked up and met the loving, caring eyes of your father. Not the disappointment you expected, you were used to lately. "Y/N you can talk to me." Now the sobs started to shake your body. "He said he loves me," you stated again, this time louder, shaking your head. Bruce sighed again, clearly not happy about the situation and still worried, and sank down beside you, but still keeping some distance between you. "Do you love him," he asked the question that you had been frightened off. "I do," you said firmly, before looking at your hands and at the still slightly red mark on your wrist, before you paddled back: "I-I don't know. I don't think so." "Then why are you with him? It is okay to change your mind, it is okay if you change. You don't have to be with him just because you liked him a week ago, you know that right?" You didn't answer, you didn't look at him, you didn't move. "Y/N?" "I know... but-" you shake your head and returned to your previous silence. "But what?" "It doesn't matter if I love him. I can be happy that he likes me." Bruce was speechless at what you said but quickly caught himself again. "What do you mean?" The sobs started again and you buried your face in your hands. "You know what he says, what he thinks about me... about my body. He says that no one could ever like someone like me." It was hard for Bruce to understand your muffled speech, but the parts that he understood combined with what Cass had told him about was enough for him to know what you were talking about. "Oh honey," he mumbled and engulfed you in his arms, pulling your sobbing form into his chest "Why would you ever believe him?" Even though he asked a question, he knew not to expect an answer. And he knew it anyways. When someone you liked, even if it was not romantically yet, told you again and again that you were too fat/thin, ugly, a disgrace... After a while, you'd start to believe it. "I know this might sound hard to believe right now, but you're beautiful the way you are. You don't have to change for someone who doesn't deserve you. And if you ever feel the way you do right now, I want you to know that you can come to me, come to everyone in this family, and we will tell you just how amazing you are," Bruce mumbled into your hair, loud enough for you to hear, in a soothing manner. As if on cue the door fell open and your siblings all came tumbling in. And seeing the great vigilantes of the bat family laying on top of each other on the floor managed to get you to let out a mix between a sob and a giggle. Maybe it was time for you to come back to your family...

After the talk with Bruce (and later your siblings and Alfred who all wanted to let you know just how much they loved you), you stayed home for a few days with your father's permission to get back to your old self, not answering a single call or message from your (now Ex-)boyfriend. But you couldn't stay out of school forever so your siblings made a plan. They'd deal with that douche of the equivalent of human trash. Obviously (since some of them were grown-ups with jobs and responsibilities) not all of them were able to come, but the next Monday morning when you, Damian and Cass left the car and stepped onto the school ground, Jason, Tim, Duke and Harper were already waiting near the brick wall surrounding Gotham Academy. When they saw the three off you, they came over and immediately encircled you like your small private army. You slightly rolled your eyes at them, knowing that they couldn't just walk with you through school the whole day, but smiled nonetheless. That smile faltered when you saw him standing in the entrance, looking angry. Around the same time you caught sight of him, he saw you and immediately started to stomp over to you, seemingly not noticing the people surrounding you. His eyes were focused on you and made your skin freeze, it was like you were fixed to the ground. Harper, who had been walking behind you, noticed your lack of movement and followed your eyes. "Is that him?" she asked loud enough for your other siblings to notice. You nodded. "Damian, take Y/N to her first class please, the others and I have a few things we want to talk about with that jackass," stated Jason with no room for discussion. Not that Damian cared who tried to anyways: "But I also want-" "I appreciate the enthusiasm, but we just want to scare him, maybe rough him up a bit, but not kill him." Damian scoffed, but still took your hand uncharacteristically soft and walked with you to another entrance to the building, taking you away from the riot that was to follow. Let's just say that your Ex never bothered or even talked to you the way he did before (or in general) again.

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quarantined-with-bucky · 4 years

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American Boy

Bucky x Reader

Request: So basically buckyxreader where she is a super successful businesswomen and awfully confident but when she’s with bucky she feels insecure as many women want him and she’s insecure of nat. Based on “American Boy” by little mix where bucky is her american boy and the other girl in the song is nat. So like angst with a happy ending (maybe smut if you’re comfortable idk idk).

Words: ~ 9,700

Summary: Dating Bucky can be challenging sometimes -- all the time.

Warnings: Smut, angst

A/N: Sorry this took me so long :( I recently started work so its been hard to write -- but I’m really happy with how this one turned out!! Thank you so much for the request!

And I met him back when I was out in California He was playing in a band and she was dancing on a stage And he says that I'm the one but she's the one that got away And he never knew her real name

Nothing about tonight sounded mildly comfortable. It was going to be six hours in a too cold banquette hall, standing all night in too tall heels, a too tight dress, with your hair scraped back into a too painful bun. From the moment you stepped inside, the flesh on your arms and décolleté erupting into goosebumps – nothing a little alcohol can’t fix, you thought to yourself, snagging a glass of champagne off of the tray from the first waiter you saw.

“Y/N,” Tony called, opening his arms to greet you. His suit was perfectly pressed, a three-piece suit that cost more than twice your monthly rent. You walked up to him, giving him a side hug, checking yourself out in the reflection of his iconic red glasses. “See, I knew you’d come.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, remembering how for the past week you’d declined his numerous invitations to his party. “I hope you know that I’m charging you overtime for this.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” He ushers you away while he continues mingling with his other guests.

Never in a million years had you thought you’d be an A-list guest at one of Tony Stark’s infamous parties. But, as fate would have it, you and Tony had been working together quite a bit in the recent years. What began as a little start-up from your college dorm room, quickly grew into a multinational billion-dollar company. Stark industries contracted your company out to spearhead multiple new projects – including the development of high-tech equipment for the Avengers. You had many ventures, sectors growing from technological advancement, to biometrics, to teams specializing in law, advertising, and operations.

The past few years had been a whirlwind for you. Moving to New York, managing your ever-growing company – up until now your life had been all work and no play. Once you met Tony, you knew that your world would flip upside down. You’d been in Forbes 30-Under-30 list for three years straight. Your life had grown into nothing but interviews, business deals, and fame – and you loved it. You felt like you were on top of the world at this moment in your life; nothing was going to stop your forward momentum from climbing up the ladder.

“Hey,” a smooth voice pulled you out of your fog, a figure popping up next to you.

“Hey, Steve,” you responded, smiling up at the blond man.

“You having a good night?” You’d met Steve a handful of times before through Tony, working with him a few times in the past. You don’t know if you could outright call him your close friend, but Steve was always so kind.

You could should be using tonight as a networking opportunity, but after an extremely stressful week at work, all you wanted to do was crawl into a bubble bath and relax. You couldn’t do that, so you thought you’d at least try to let loose and take it easy tonight, hoping to catch up with friends and enjoy some time partying. “I guess,” you shrugged, taking another sip of champagne.

“That makes two of us,” he replied, taking an equally long sip of his drink. “It’s hard to lay low at Tony’s parties, y’know?”

“Its hard to lay low when you’re Captain America,” you joked, nudging his arm with your elbow. He rolled his eyes again, running a hand through his short blond hair.

Your eyes scanned over the crowd, trying to find something worthwhile to talk to Steve about: maybe about the couples dancing in the center of the room, the large crowd gathered at the bar, the performers that laced their way through the influx of people. Your gaze fell upon a smaller group of people gathered around a table, laughing, telling stories and interrupting each other with more tall tales. You only recognized a couple people in the group; Sam Wilson: tall, well-built, perhaps a little tipsy, chirping away with his witty comments; Natasha Romanoff: a goddess, quiet, watching, observing, black dress so tight on her beautiful figure it looked like it was painted on; Bucky Barnes: the epitome of tall dark and handsome, at the forefront of the conversation, laughing and cussing telling his sensational war story, dark tendrils of hair hanging loosely in front of his face, obstructing the view of his blue eyes.

“Have you met Bucky?” Steve asked, interrupting your thoughts. You shook your head ‘no,’ unable to tear your eyes away from him. His black suit was complemented quite nicely with a fitted black shirt, the top buttons undone, his tanned muscle peaking out. He ran his metallic hand through his long hair – you finally were able to see his eyes, the only color on him, so bright compared to their dark surroundings. And they were looking at you.

Tearing your eyes away from him, you turned your head up to Steve. He was watching Bucky, watching him looking at you; Steve’s head turned between the two of you, almost unable to stop the smile from pulling at his lips. Steve pulled you into the group, making space for you to stand between him and Bucky. As introductions were passed around the group, you felt eyes on you. This time, the set of green eyes.

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Natasha give you the up and down a few times. Your first reaction was that it wasn’t in a bad or necessarily judgmental way; she was interested in who the outsider was. She was protective, it was instinctual; she would observe said outsider, finding all of her flaws, quirks, secrets, until she was certain she wasn’t a threat. When you were introduced to her, she politely flashed you a smile with her infamous painted red lips and shook your hand.

“(Y/N), this is Bucky,” Steve finished, watching eagerly as the two of you shook hands and exchanged smiles.

“(Y/N),” Bucky whispered, your name tasting sweet on his lips; he tipped his head ever so slightly towards you in greeting.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

Everybody took the hint – that hint being Steve wiggling his eyebrows at everyone – and the group dispersed. You waved goodbye to the like, politely offering goodbyes to everyone. In your peripheral vison, you watched as the red head gave you one final up-and-down, crossing her arms over her busty chest, flitting her eyes to Bucky’s before she strutted off.

…

You hit it off with Bucky instantly, spending the night discussing everything from your future prospects to your relationship status to your past (specifically, your past). He was completely enamored by you. He was obsessed with the fact that people looked up to you; you demanded respect – so much so, in fact, that your success intimidated them; you were unapproachable to those who didn’t have their shit together. After that night, he knew he had to see you again.

And you could not feel more the same way.

It started fairly privately. Despite your constant media attention – being the CEO of a Fortune 500 company had that effect – being Tony Stark’s business partner escalated that. Usually on your commute to and from work, whether that be your corporate office or the Avenger’s tower, there would be a few paparazzi and a couple reporters following you around. They wanted information on you, your ventures, but most importantly: Tony Stark. When you were contracted to work with Stark Industries, you knew this was a possibility – in fact, it was the number one con on your pros & cons list. While you did think it was a decent opportunity for exposure, it surely came back to bite you in the ass.

You didn’t anticipate meeting Bucky Barnes – you surely didn’t anticipate dating him, either. You couldn’t be happier with Bucky; you wouldn’t let the incessant paparazzi and media attention get to you. Surely, you’d figured that dating an actual Avenger would draw some attention to yourself. However, you couldn’t have predicted the magnitude it would have on your daily life. The amount cameramen and reporters that followed you on a daily basis more than doubled.

Now, you’d never considered yourself shy, especially not camera shy – hell, all you were doing was walking from your car to and from different buildings – you could surely handle getting your picture taken. You had to admit, you were put together (and damn hot). You wore tailored suits, the tall heels; your hair and makeup were done perfectly every day.

It’s not like you hadn’t been on the cover of magazines before; but they were articles, studies, biographies. You posed for the cover of Forbes and Wall Street Journal and Harvard Business Review. Gracing the cover of tabloid magazines, however, was new territory for you. They talked about your style, your makeup, you clothes, your hair – nothing was too surface level for them to delve into. At first, that’s all it was. Noting and pricing your style, People magazine printing a “Who is She?” issue.

Then the comparisons started.

It was a side-by-side of you and Natasha – Black Widow. How could you compete with her?

You were sitting in bed one morning, up early before dawn, checking your phone before you started your morning routine. It was supposed to be like any other Thursday: work, meetings, executive board reviews: productive. But after reading that article, your heart deflated; today would only truly be over once you get to crawl back into your bed at the end of the day and sulk under the covers.

You slowly let out a long breath as you scrolled quickly through the article. “(Y/N) Becomes Black Widow’s Replacement: Is She Good Enough or Will She Get Tangled in the Web?” leave it to Daily Mail to start off with a shitty pun to ruin your mood.

The first picture was a full body shot of you laid next to a similar image of Natasha. She was shorter, sure – but curvier. She had more muscle, obviously – and those legs. Even you wanted to be strangled to death by her thighs. (And you felt like dying at that moment, that’s for sure). Maybe she just wore tighter clothes? You did, in fact, wear well-tailored clothes – you were actually very fashion forward for the business world, taking Fall 2020 by storm. She just got the chance to wear tighter clothes more often.

The second photo was an extremely flattering behind shot. The photographer might as well have taken the camera and pointed it right up your skirt. You’d heard the tabloids comparing the asses of other famous women, surely even the English Royalty had headlines circulating about it. You actually thought you had a good ass – you do – but hers was better. Black fucking Widow and you were supposed to somehow compete?

The last shot was a close up of your faces. You had to admit, they probably could’ve picked a worse picture of you. You weren’t smiling, you weren’t frowning – it was neutral. Your brows maybe slightly narrowed. Natasha, on the other hand, was glaring at the paparazzi. They gave her space, as if they took one step too close, she would murder them (and although she was actually extremely kind to you, they were probably right in that case). Her glare exuded confidence, intimidation. That was the difference between your auras: while your success may have been intimidating to others, it was her essential being that was intimidating – she could kill you just by looking at you.

While some people may not appreciate that fact, the pure daunting atmosphere that surrounded her, there was one person that did: James Buchanan Barnes.

He, himself, had the same ambiance, after all: that is being the don’t fuck with me stare.

Oh, and I don't mean to get so caught up And insecure 'bout all the things you say Oh, and I don't mean to be jealous, it's just careless me Boy, I must drive you mad

“Hey, Bucky,” you greeted, swinging open your front door, pressing a chaste kiss to the lips of the man before you.

He hummed against your lips, caught off guard as you pulled away sooner than expected. “Hey, baby,” he responded, shrugging it off stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “It smells great,” he noted regarding the pasta sauce simmering on the stove. He dipped a metallic pinky finger in the sauce, cheekily smiling at you as he licked his makeshift tasting-spoon. “Tastes great – no surprise.”

You couldn’t help but return his smile, trying to shake off the bad day you’d had, instead turning all focus to your giggle boyfriend before you. He takes two steps forward, engulfing you in his strong arms, rubbing his flesh hand up and down your back in a soothing motion. You rested your cheek against his chest, taking a deep breath in; his earthy scent calmed you down, the heat radiating off of him offering you to a level of relaxation you didn’t know was possible. “Did you have a bad day, baby?” He cooed quietly, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear.

“Yeah,” you breathed, nodding into his chest. “Bad. And busy. And annoying.”

“Annoying?” He repeated, testing the word on his tongue, but not questioning further. “Come on, why don’t we eat because I’m hungry – and I know you’re hungry – and get you to relax.” You smile up at him, giving him a proper kiss this time, unsure if he was just saying that to get dinner going, or if his supersoldier senses could actually tell that you were hungry (because you were).

Dinner went smoothly. It was quiet, moreso than usual. But it was nice. It was calm: a good change of pace from both of your busy schedules. It was tranquil: spending the evening exchanging loving glances and touches across the table, playing footstie under the table, Bucky quite literally licking pasta sauce off your cheek.

As he finished up his third serving (to which you just sip your wine while he gets his fill), you can’t help but break the silence and light conversation with a loaded question: “What’s with you and Natasha?”

You didn’t mean for the question to come out so abrupt or harsh, but it had been eating at your mind all day. You’d found yourself looking at that article during every five-minute break you got. Comparing hair, clothes, smiles, eyes, teeth – everything.

“What’s with us?” He repeated, eyebrows cocked in misunderstanding, palms raised in confusion. He didn’t understand the question.

You sighed heavily, dropping your eyes to the near empty wine glass before you. “I don’t know,” you grumbled, running your hands over your forehead, dropping them behind your head, pulling your hair a bit. “I’ve been seeing these articles about her – about her and me,” you clarified, trailing off, hoping he’d understand the picture. As he remained silent, you sat back against your chair, slouching. “Did you guys date or something?” You immediately bit the inside of your cheek. The question burned coming off your tongue.

His chuckle almost startled you out of your fog; your stomach dropped as you felt knots pull at all your insides. “Babe.” He reaches across the table with open palms, waiting for you to place your hands in his. You hesitated, but eventually complied, his soft smile and kind eyes giving you no other choice. “No. We never had – or did – anything. Never. I promise.”

Okay, well that made you feel better. You let out a breathy sigh (this time of relief) as you gave his hands a gentle squeeze. “Okay,” you repeated. “Okay.” It made you feel a little better, sure, but then why?

He raised his eyebrows once again. “You don’t believe me?”

“No – no, no, no – ” you replied quickly, reaching farther across the table, fingertips grazing his forearms. “I’m just confused. I keep seeing articles comparing me and her,” you stated very slowly, unsure of the right words, unsure of what his innate reaction would be.

“We have a… past,” he responded, slowly; it was calculated.

But in that moment, he knew he miscalculated. “A past?”

No, not like that, he thought. But like what, exactly? How was he supposed to explain it? God, his own life was complicated enough to explain – he hadn’t dared to divulge that deep, in fear of ruining your newly blossoming relationship. He owed you some sort of explanation, though, right? But he was at a loss for words at the worst time possible. “It just goes back to… a long time ago… with… well… ” With no words left to complete his fragment of a sentence, he raised his left hand and wiggled his metallic fingers.

Your lips formed an “oh” shape as you said the same word mentally. Oh, no shit, more like. The Russian spy and the Winter Soldier had intertwined pasts. You felt like an idiot – like the answer was laying right there before you, your eyes glazing right over it. “Bucky, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry but – ”

He cut you off immediately, taking one of your hands into both of his. He looked you straight in the eyes, his own blue irises staring deep into yours. “Don’t apologize, please.” He swallowed hard. “I don’t want that part of my life taking over my life now. You’re not prying – I need to be open with you about it.” You nodded slowly. “I want you to be apart of my life, (Y/N),” he clarified, nearly smiling at you missing the implication of his previous sentence.

You grinned, a goofy wine-infused smile. You leaned across the table, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

That night, he began telling you about his past; nothing he wasn’t comfortable with discussing was mentioned. You didn’t push him, didn’t ask questions, didn’t offer opinion or advice. The only thing you offered was solace, comfort, and hot tea. You held him in bed, ran your fingers through his hair, rubbed small circles on his muscled back.

He told you about how he trained her, how their connected past drew scrutiny to them in the media. How their ties to Russia, Hydra, and a few not-so politically correct incidents in the past tied them closer together both in eyes of the tabloids and, subsequently, to each other.

You had no questions, no comments. There was nothing for you to say. You weren’t questioning the validity of his past and you didn’t question the fact that he and Natasha were just friends. You were confident in Bucky, confident that he was telling the truth – confident in your relationship.

The two of you fell asleep that night wiping tears off each other’s cheeks; but neither of you had felt more safe – more in love – than at that moment in your lives.

…

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you,” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing down at you – at your figure.

You were turned away from him, trying to busy yourself, acting as though bringing it up again was casual, like it was just a normal question on par with how was your day? It, in fact, was extremely loaded; there couldn’t be more of a loaded question, in Bucky’s opinion (in your own opinion, too). But, dammit, you needed validation – wasn’t that okay?

It was okay.

It was always okay. Bucky understood that. Even he, himself, needed validation in a similar way. However, there were two distinct differences about what he needed vs. what you needed.

1. He never needed validation against someone else.

Bucky was insecure – the fact of the matter was every single person in the world had insecurities, from the brightest minds to the most beautiful models; there isn’t a single person who isn’t immune to outside pressure, societal expectations, internal comparisons. Sometimes Bucky would be insecure of his arm, oftentimes he’d be insecure about his past. He’d wonder about his hair, he’d read articles about himself, comments people posted online. Bucky had a certain confidence about himself, sure. He was intimidating (that was both a good and a bad thing).

But you. You were intimidating, too – you were, in Bucky’s eyes – the baddest bitch; you controlled the business world, dominate magazine headlines, demanded the attention of every man in the room. He loved it. He loved the fact that you were all that and more, and that he got to come home to you. He got to hold you in his arms at night. He got to make love to you.

That’s why he didn’t understand your – what he determined to be – obsession with her. All the time asking him about her. Were you as good as her? Were you better than her? He understood, at first. Natasha was very intimidating – to anyone, even her own team. He didn’t mind showing you extra attention, sprinkling you with more compliments, lovingly laying his hands on the places you didn’t like about yourself. He loved you; he loved complimenting you. Nothing he ever said was a lie, so he had no problem saying them.

But as time went on, you kept asking. About. Her.

2. He believed you when you validated him.

Not only were you asking about Natasha, constantly comparing yourself to her – your body, your brains, your face, even your hair. Again, he had no problem telling you how beautiful you were; it was a service to you that he would trade anything in the world for. He loved to say that to you; complimenting your intelligence, looks, attitude – all of it.

Maybe he wasn’t complimenting you enough anymore? Even so, you had to know the way he felt about you? He tried really hard to validate it as his own fault. Like it was something he had done to cause you to suddenly be so insecure. But all it took was one walk down the bustling street-stands on the New York City’s streets for him to realize. You, after all, had graced the cover of every magazine as of lately. You and Natasha.

He wasn’t so hard on you or himself after that little piece clicked in his head.

But at the end of the day, he couldn’t stop himself from wondering if you never believed him. Did you trust him? Did you love him? Those questions ran through his head at night – as much as he hated it, he couldn’t stop it.

“It’s not how many times, Bucky! It’s – it’s – ” You tripped over your own words.

“What is it, then, (Y/N)? Because I sure as hell can’t figure it out.” In fact, you didn’t know what it was. You couldn’t pinpoint it. You couldn’t put the words together.

You turned around, crossing your arms across your chest, mirroring him. You just stared back it him, biting your lip. There wasn’t anything you could say; just offered him a shrug.

“(Y/N), come on,” he began. “You can’t seriously believe the shit they say.” He was referring to the incessant media coverage. The eyes on you – 24/7 cameras. It eats away at you; it was all you could think about. “You’re too smart for them. What’s this all about, then?”

If there was anyone who could see right through you, it was him. But if there was one thing he needed to know about you, it was that you had too much pride to admit any sort of insecurity to anyone – even your boyfriend of now eight months.

It was in that moment that you wondered if he took a short tone with her the way he had been with you lately. Did she have to ask him such endless questions? Definitely not. She had nothing to worry about. She didn’t care.

That was the difference between the two of you.

You couldn’t do anything but care.

Singing, singing, singing Ooh la la, he breaks my heart I know he thinks about her when he plays guitar And ooh la la, my American boy

You and Bucky sat on the couch, the movie playing in front you now long forgotten. The past few weeks have been stressful for the both of you. You were both dealing with a lot at work; you with new projects and development issues, Bucky with compiling intel that seemly led nowhere. Last night, you’d attended another one of Tony’s parties with Bucky. You thought it was going to be a fun night, seeing all your old friends, catching up with everyone you hadn’t seen in so long. What was supposed to be a casual night of fun drinking and dancing, turned sour very quickly.

It was nice in the beginning, catching up with Sam and Steve; that is, until you caught a glimpse of Bucky from the corner of your eye. He was just meant to get a refill of drinks. All he had to do was weave through the crowd, make it to the bar, and return with the drinks. You felt that it shouldn’t have taken him that long. Maybe you should’ve offered to get them instead.

There he stood, leaning against the bar, a handful of cold drinks sitting in front of him on the tabletop. You watched as he ignored the cups the bartender placed down in front of him a few minutes ago; watched as a drop of precipitation slid down the side of the cold glass, pooling with all the others at the granite bar top.

Beside him, a tall blonde mimicked his movements, leaning against the counter. She spoke to him in a hushed tone, gazing up at him under her long eyelashes. Her perfectly manicured hands grazed up and down his arm, undoubtedly innocently asking about the strong metal underneath his shirt sleeve. You rolled your eyes, nearly scoffing at her fairly blatant attempt at flirting.

You wouldn’t be so pissed off, usually. She was beautiful, sure, but you were confident in your relationship with Bucky. You knew how he felt about you and he knew how strong your feelings were for him. There was no doubt on either end – so why shouldn’t he be able to have a conversation with some woman at a party? He had just grown comfortable enough to talk about his metal arm, finally accepting the gift that the great King T’Challa had gifted him.

So why did this interaction piss you off so much?

Because you knew that if a man had come up to you to chat so innocently with you, he’d be on him in less than one second. And if a man had come up to you to chat while also running his hand up your arm or down your back, Bucky would ensure that man would be leaving this party with nothing but then broken fingers.

But your pride took the best of you, as usual. You rolled your eyes to yourself, carrying on your conversation with Sam and Steve, trying your best not to look over Sam’s shoulder too much, staring past him and at Bucky. You held your empty cup in your hand, almost now more pissed that your new drink was sitting lonely at the bar, when you needed alcohol more than ever in this moment.

All you wanted was to go up there, rip her hand off your boyfriend, and get your damn drink. Instead, you held your tongue all night. When Bucky returned with your drink, you thanked him and took it, gulping it down fairly quickly. When his hand rested on your waist, you simply gave yourself a twist, shrugging his hand off of you. You felt him give you a questioning look, but you simply pretended not to notice, instead keeping your eyes locked on Sam’s as he told his story about what ever he was talking about (you weren’t really paying attention); just smiling and nodding and looking as engaged as possible.

When you and Bucky got home that night, you quickly showered and crawled into bed. Bucky had been trying to talk to you on the car ride home, all night while you got ready for bed. Finally giving you your peace to shower, he decided to try again once he slipped into bed beside him. “What’s going on, (Y/N),” he whispered, turning towards you; but he was met with the sight of your back turned to him.

“Nothing,” you replied, face smooshed int the pillow. “’M just tired.”

His hand found your side, rubbing over your hip bone slightly, as he moved closer to you in bed. His chest pressed up against your back, his breath tickling the back of your neck. “Is that all, baby?” He kept pressing. “Let me make you feel better,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your neck, burying his face in your shoulder.

“No, Buck, stop.” You shrugged him off and lifted your shoulders in protest, pushing his head away. “I’m not in the mood – I just want to go to sleep.”

“Sorry, (Y/N),” he whispered, settling back down in the bed.

You tried to fall asleep that night, you really were tired – exhausted, in fact. But you just couldn’t calm your racing mind enough to fall asleep. You knew Bucky knew it, too. You suspected that he didn’t get much sleep either.

When you finally did get a few hours of rest, you woke up to a note left by Bucky.

Went for an early workout with Steve. Feel better, I’ll call you later.

You gave yourself a whole self-care day. Bath, face mask, manicure – the whole nine yards. You willed yourself to think of anything except Bucky and that girl – Bucky and any girl.

Every girl in the world had eyes for Bucky – why wouldn’t they? He’s absolutely gorgeous: tall, handsome, he’s got the mysterious vibe going on – basically every woman’s walking wet dream. You always gave him the benefit of the doubt when it came to women flirting with him. He was from a different time; he was just being polite. That’s what you told yourself, at least. The more Steve told you stories about him being a charmer – how he always “wooed” women back in the day – the more unsettled you became. Maybe he missed being a flirt, afterall, as he recovered, he slipped back into his old ways, whether that be an old Brooklyn accent, or his charming smile.

But how many times could you just brush it off? Blatantly flirting in front of you – sure it may have been an innocent conversation or an innocent arm touch (you know that’s how he would sell it to you) but hell, he lived in a different time now. So, he just had to get used to the fact that he had to stop letting these girls flirt with him. Was it really so hard to tell them he had a girlfriend?

Unless he thought about it and didn’t want to. He was so touch starved for the past seventy-plus years that who knows? Maybe he did enjoy all the attention – especially all the female attention. Considering the fact he was such a ladies man, maybe this is exactly what he wanted to feel like himself again, winning over all the women. And, god, all the tall women with their perfect faces and gorgeous chests, showing off more skin than they covered. They had the confidence of models, the ferociousness of catwoman – not to mention Black Widow; she was her own breed of gold-like-women.

He didn’t call you until the next day.

That’s how you ended up on your sofa, innocently watching a movie, two boxes of pizza abandoned on your coffee table. Neither of you brought up the night of Tony’s party; instead, you two sought solace in each other’s arms on the plush couch between piles of pillows.

You two ended up making out, his hands wrapping around your waist and up your back, yours winding their way through locks of his long hair. He leaned over you, your back meeting the sofa top and his chest pressing to yours. His pelvis touched yours, grinding lazily against yours. A mess of legs entangled with each other at the opposite end of the couch. His hand slid down your side, squeezing between your bodies to unbutton your jeans, his fingers slipping underneath your panties.

He groaned once his finger slipped between your slit, moaning at the wetness he found there. He pulled his hands up and shimmied your pants off, his own jeans following suit. He didn’t bother even taking them off all the way, instead latching himself on you with his pants and underwear pooling at his ankles.

His hands grabbed your hips, roughly pushing into you while his lips attached themselves to your neck. You gasped, the sudden entry startling to you. Your arms encased his torso, nails digging into his back as he roughly fucked you into the mattress. You hips met his as you tried to rock against him to meet his thrusts. His hands pinned your hips down, jackhammering you into the couch.

You were panting and moaning and screaming. You couldn’t help the noises that were coming out of your mouth. You and Bucky had tried some pretty not-vanilla stuff in the past, and sure, sex was maybe one of the best ways to get your anger out. But Bucky hadn’t ever been this nonattentive to you before. Or this quiet. Usually you couldn’t get him to shut up – between the dirty talk and the praise, you could never get him to shut up; and he loved it. He knew his whispers and all his egging-you on only flustered you more. That was the sex you loved.

This was different. He didn’t say anything; he just grunting to himself as he pounded into you, hips snapping into yours. God, you were going to be bruised tomorrow just from how hard he was holding you down. He wasn’t attentive, nor perceptive to you. He didn’t kiss you, just barred his teeth through heavy breaths.

This must have been all related to the night at Tony’s party. He was probably angry with you after that night – not talking to him at all. Not to mention you didn’t say anything when he clearly knew something was up with you; you definitely owed him an explanation. You couldn’t blame him or being angry. You weren’t so sure this was his best reaction. He was so dangerously quiet.

That’s when you threw your head back against the pillows, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut. Was he just fucking you to fuck you? He came quickly and without warning, spilling into you with nothing but another grunt.

He dropped on top of you, pelvis to pelvis, his cock still inside your warm cunt. He dropped his head to your chest, you shirt still left on from earlier. He shut his eyes and wrapped his arms around him. Your fingers found his hair, stroking his chestnut strands as he fell asleep on top of you.

Maybe he was just tired from waking up early? He probably needed to get his aggressions from the day out – not to mention the frustration from you basically ignoring him all day and night. There was a feeling in the back of your head, though, that this sudden change of pace may have been brought on by something else. His eyes were shut the whole time – hell, maybe he was thinking about that blonde girl from the party.

You said it to yourself as a joke – it was a fleeting thought. But you couldn’t stop thinking about it after that. Was he picturing someone else? He wasn’t turned on by you – you didn’t even get a chance to do anything sexy before he was fucking you with your clothes on. He’d probably rather be sleeping with someone else. Someone who made porn star noises and pulled his hair harder and –

God, you were tired of thinking like this.

So I wanna know who's on your phone Making me paranoid, making me bad Making me sad, making me crazy Making me feel like I needed to ask I wanna know if you're at home And if you're at home, baby, are you alone? Are you alone? Answer your phone Oh, baby, no no no

Things went back to normal after that. You weren’t sure what had gotten into him – and you – that day, but it was nothing but a distant memory. You were dating for about a year and a half. From that point, you two had kept everything very lowkey. Extravagant parties were few and far between, dates became even more private – no distractions, nothing to get between the two of you.

“Baby, I’m home,” you called, throwing your purse and keys on the kitchen table. You were hit with the faint smell of dinner, but as you checked the stovetop and oven, you were met with nothing – just the leftovers already cold in the fridge. You worked late tonight – tonight and every other night for the past three weeks. It was only nine, which wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t have to wake up at five tomorrow to get into the office early. Your team was being met with a deadline soon, there were a lot of extra hours being put in to get the project done. You weren’t one to complain because you were the boss. You weren’t going at this alone, you had everyone else working with you helping out. But it was your job to make sure everything got done, and that included being the first one in and the last one out.

Bucky said it never bothered him. He’d go on missions for days – sometimes weeks – at a time. He encouraged you to work hard, he loved your drive and commitment to your company. He motivated you; he knew you had drive and could get things done. He loved being able to support you, too. When Steve first introduced the idea of dating to him, he wasn’t sure he wanted someone who was only obsessed with him: who got their own recognition just by being his girlfriend. He was lucky enough to be your boyfriend.

You took the Tupper wear from the fridge, popping it in the microwave and waiting for your food. You noticed Bucky on the sofa. Kicking your heels off you made your way to the living room, calling out to him again. He sat up, his face donning a large grin as he waved to you, quickly pointing to the cell phone propped up against his ear. You gave him a shy wave back, turning back to the microwave, soon to be beeping with your meal. You ate dinner alone at the kitchen table, nothing but the sound of Bucky’s roaring laughter bouncing off your ear. By the time you finished, you tossed the bowl into the sink, making your way up to your bedroom.

“Ok, yeah, I’ve gotta go – ” Bucky said into the phone, before interrupting himself with a chuckle, laughing at whatever the person on the other end said. “Yes, I have to go. Yeah, no, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

You shut the door before he could get off the couch and flopped straight into bed, groaning. All you wanted to do was fall right asleep, unbothered. That’s when Bucky came in and plopped himself right down on the bed next to you. “Hey, babe,” he greeted you, giving you a light pat on the ass.

“Hey, Buck,” you replied, tucking your arms up underneath your head, propping your head up on your hands. You offered him a tired smile, gazing into his adoring blue eyes. “Who was that on the phone?”

“It was nobody,” he replied, quickly changing the subject. “How was work?”

Well that was extremely unlike him. You already knew all his friends. If it was one of them, he would’ve just said so. But it clearly wasn’t, especially considering how giggly he was on the phone. You just narrowed your eyes at him, breezing right past it. “Good – tiring,” you corrected. “But this contract closes out next week, so hopefully not that many more long days after that.”

“Good to hear, I know you can get it done, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

…

The next day, you were met with nearly the same sight. Bucky on the couch, but this time, dinner was covered on the stove. “Thanks for cooking, Buck,” you call to him, taking the lid off the pot and serving yourself a plate. He jumped from the couch and came up behind you, hugging you from behind and kissing your neck.

“Anytime, baby.” He pressed another smooch to your neck before stepping back and grabbing a bottle of wine from the counter. He poured up to glasses, situating himself at one end of the table, waiting for you to join him at the other end. Once you do, your phone rings from your purse. You drop your head back with a groan. “You should probably get that,” Bucky offered, reaching for your purse and holding it out to you.

You give him a quiet “thank you,” and answer the call. Not even before you can answer it, he’s pulling out his own phone and texting away on it. You take your call at the table, a quick last-minute question from a colleague. You tried to focus on what he was saying on the other line, but all you could do was stare at Bucky, smiling down at his phone, furiously typing away.

“No problem, Dave. Thanks for taking a look at it, we can finish up tomorrow morning,” you say into the phone, offering a quick goodbye before hanging up and digging into your food, glaring at Bucky from under your eyelashes. He still sat on his phone, laughing to himself. Once he heard your knife slide against the plate, he locked his phone, shoving it back into his pocket and looking up at you, starting another conversation about your day. You quickly changed the subject to him.

You internally rolled your eyes. All you got was talking about your day and whatever girl on the other end got giggly Bucky? Whenever work got busy, your relationship got boring. It may have been partially your fault: short tempered, tired; you put everything into your work and maybe not enough into Bucky. But your jealousy issues got the better of you. Maybe he was just talking to Sam? Or laughing at memes with Steve – they had a lot to catch up on, afterall. But if so, wouldn’t he just say that instead of saying he was talking to “nobody?”

But your paranoia was actually well placed and almost deserving. Bucky still graced the covers of magazines and newspapers. The attention people gave you quickly died down after the one-year mark on your relationship. You didn’t mind, all it was just a little more peace in your day-to-day life. That same attention never did (and never would) die down for him. He still saved the world; more importantly, he was still hot. Meaning the tabloids would continue to try to stir up trouble with him and every woman he knew. They wanted to play matchmaker, constantly shipping him with the other beautiful women he spent time with – whether that be at work or not. Thinking about all that and Bucky’s charismatic personality was almost too much for you.

…

The third night in a row where you’d come home past nine. The first night without dinner. You were met with an empty apartment, no food, no lights, not a single sign of life. You tossed your bag on the table and immediately called for takeout. As you waited for your Chinese food to arrive, you changed into your pajamas, and called Bucky.

No answer.

All you wanted was to lay on the couch and feast with him. If you were going to stuff your face, you wanted it to be with someone who really knew how to eat. After trying again with no answer, you dropped your phone on the coffee table and began flipping through the channels on TV. Not finding anything good to watch, but also deciding you didn’t have the mental capacity to watch something new, you threw on some Friends reruns. Something you could watch without having to pay attention: just what you were in the mood for.

When the doorbell rang, you jumped, almost forgetting you ordered food. You swung open the door, half expecting to find Bucky on the other side, but you were instead met with the delivery boy. You paid the guy and took the food to the living room, feasting on the couch straight from the little takeaway containers. You didn’t do this often, but damn, it was relaxing.

You picked up your phone: no notifications.

There were a few excuses you made up for him as you stuffed your face with noodles. He could be in the middle of training. You knew him and Steve too well, and knew they always had enough supersoldier energy to fit a workout in anywhere and anytime. That, or he could just be busy. Maybe a work thing came up – he does save the world for a living, afterall. He could just be at the tower. It’s not like he officially lived with you. (It was unofficial, though; he did spend nearly every other night sleeping here with you. And if he didn’t, he would at least give you a reason why he wasn’t). But you’re not his mother or his gatekeeper. There was no reason he absolutely had to tell you where he was and that he wasn’t coming over – that was crazy. But it was just…

Unlike him.

Even if he was at the tower, why wouldn’t he answer?

And as you continued onto your dumplings, you quickly began comfort eating, as your mind traveled to the worst reason you could make up.

Afterall, he never told you who he was laughing on the phone with all this time. He couldn’t even stop himself from laughing at his texts – it was blatantly obvious. There’s no way Reddit could be that funny. You scoffed. It probably was some girl – maybe that blonde from the party. You had no idea of knowing who, but you surely couldn’t stop yourself from speculating.

You called again.

Again.

You just wanted to hear his voice.

You just wanted to know he was okay.

Okay and alone.

American, my American, American boy You know it's my American boy

It wasn’t every day that you thought about Bucky in such a way. Honestly, you didn’t like to think about the other women that he might be friends (or more) with. It was just your own little fucked up indulgence.

Against your best judgement, Bucky convinced you to go to another one of Tony’s parties. “It’s Steve’s birthday party, (Y/N), you have to go!”

So, you did go. And just like the very first time you met Bucky – at one of these parties – you dragged yourself out of bed and got all dressed up to head to the event. You knew even Steve wouldn’t want such a big celebration, so you’d at least have one person to mope around with.

You held on to Bucky the whole night; your arm gripping his metal bicep as the two of you mingled. Bucky liked having you tucked into his side all night, the warmth of your body pressed up against his arm. “Hey, Stevie,” you greeted him, offering a warm hug. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, (Y/N),” he replied, hugging you, then Bucky. “Happy Independence Day,” he added.

Bucky’s hand immediately snaked around your waste, pulling your hip against his.

It wasn’t until he left to use the bathroom that you suddenly felt naked. You almost wanted to wrap your arms around yourself in comfort. You felt stupid – you were in a room full of friends, people you knew, that you liked. Yet, every time you were in this setting, you never felt more insecure.

And apparently it showed.

You were joined by none-other than the reason for your insecurity. “(Y/N),” she greeted you with a curt nod.

“Hey, Natasha,” you responded, taking a long sip of your drink. She watched you under lidded eyes, her red lips pursing slightly. She looked great, of course, her royal blue dress hugging her curves tightly, he heels adding extra height the both of you knew she didn’t need. “What’s up?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Enjoying the night?”

Now it was your turn to shrug. “As much as I can, I guess. I’ve been waiting for the fireworks show. It was the best last year.”

She nodded, this time taking a swig of her own drink. “Tony sure does know how to throw a party.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “He’s thrown enough of them.”

The two of you stood in silence for a moment; it wasn’t super comfortable for you, but she sure didn’t seem to notice – or care. “You seem a little on edge.”

She wanted you to out yourself. Surely, she was going to pull it out of you somehow. “Not really my scene,” you noted, swirling the ice around in your glass.

“Look, (Y/N),” she began, obviously confirming your suspicion. “There’s never been anything between me and Bucky. In fact – ” she glanced around the room, eyes stopping on a particular man. “ – I’ve got a few skeletons of my own.” You tried to follow her line of sight, but the crowd was too thick in that direction. “He loves you so stop trying to find things wrong with your relationship. He may have been a charming guy back in the day, but you’ve got him wrapped around your finger.” She winked, a small smile building across her plump red lips.

You didn’t even know what to say in that moment. You gawked at her – at Black Widow hyping you up? Was that her way of doing it? Hell, she could tell you that you intimidated every single person in this room, and you’d take it as the biggest compliment ever. To hear about your power from her? Practically an honor.

“Hey,” Bucky spoke up from behind you as he returned. “What’s goin’ on over here?”

“Just girl talk,” Natasha replied before heading off.

Bucky turned to you, confused. “What’s that about?”

You stared at her as she walked away, swaying her hips and heading for the man she mentioned earlier. “I’m not too sure,” you said slowly, mesmerized by her walk.

Bucky’s hand in yours made you turn up towards him, meeting his blue eyes. “Ready to get out of here?” He whispered lowly.

You bit your lip and nodded, setting your glass down and squeezing his hand in both of yours.

Bucky carried you from the front door to the bed; he placed you down on top of the mattress like you were made of glass. He kissed your lips like he was going off to war, but he tasted like he’d just returned.

His hands ran furiously over your back, eventually resting on the zipper and tugging downwards; your hands ran all over his chest, tugging his shirt open, no regard for the buttons. He started peeling your dress off your body as you leaned back on the bed, working on taking off your bra while he discarded the dress on the floor. He followed suit, discarding his clothes before returning to the bed, covering your body with his warm one. His flesh hand cupped your jaw, the other holding his balance on the bed. Your arms wrapped around his neck one hand holding the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you, deepening the kiss, while the other ran through his tangled hair. You interlocked your legs around his waist, pulling yourself upwards to grind on his hard cock.

He moaned into your mouth, grinding back into you, reveling in just the feeling of your wetness gliding against his cock. His hand left your face to grab your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before he pinned your hips to the mattress with his own, humping against you. You whispered against him, pleading: “Bucky, please,” you whispered against his lips.

His mouth skidded down your cheek and past your jawline to suck a sloppy kiss onto your neck. As his face was buried in your shoulder, making his way down to your breast, his hand found its way between your hips, stroking your soaked lips. You hummed and gripped his hair as his finger split the difference, prodding its way into your soaked entrance. As two other fingers joined in, curling inside of your pussy, he licked your nipple, biting the pebbled nub softly. “You’re so wet, baby. Love how you’re always so wet for me.”

“Only for you, James,” you whispered, blissed out, head falling back against the mattress as his thumb found your clit, rubbing small circles under the hood. You felt a jolt up your body, your pussy instinctively clenching against his fingers.

He let out a deep breath, kissing your breast before planting a wet kiss to your lips, fingers not faltering. “I love you, (Y/N),” he murmured against your lips.

You opened your eyes, meeting his staring down at you, glazed over with lust. “I love you, baby,” you breathed, tilting your head up to kiss him again.

He pulled away from you, fingers stilling, long forgotten in the moment. “No, baby – ” he stopped, staring down at you, pleading with you, please understand. “Only you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. Tears burning the back of your eyes. You bit your lip, nodding, not trusting your words as a few tears fell from the sides of your eyes, rolling down your skin to the mattress. He kissed you feverishly, teeth chipping against each other’s, lips and tongues sloppily sliding over each other, sharing air.

He pulled his hand away from your thighs, not moving far to line up his dick to your now soaked and desperate pussy. Your breath hitched as he pushed the tip in; all the air Bucky held in his lungs suddenly escaped him. “Fuck, extra tight for me tonight, huh?” You moaned, trying to rock your hips against his, his bodyweight pinning you down. “Eager, baby,” he groaned from the back of his throat.

“Please, baby,” you begged, fisting the sheets, using all your energy to grind against him. “Please.”

Please.

He complied, snapping his hips down into yours, his big dick stretching your walls. You yelped out, your opening burning as it welcomed his length. His cock curved upwards, hitting deep inside you as he swiftly moved his hips back and forth, quick rhythm never erring. His hand fell to your lower stomach, as he pressed his hand firmly above your public bone. “Mmm, look, baby, I can feel my dick in you,” he whispered, reveling in the feeling as his dick bottomed out inside of you. He felt the tip through the soft flesh of your belly – boy, you felt it, too. Every time he pounded into you felt your head spin. You saw nothing but black, stars blinding your vision at every thrust.

You nearly snaked your hand down to your clit for your final release, but he pulled your hand away, pinning it to the mattress above your head. He sat up on his knees, grabbing your other hand and joining it with the other, holding them both down to the mattress under the grasp on his metal hand. As he returned to leaning over you, sliding his dick back in your pussy, his flesh hand returned to your clit, rubbing in fast circles. You screamed, thighs coming together, snapping tightly against his hips.

That wouldn’t stop him. You weren’t strong enough to hold him in place; he kept fucking you into the mattress, your body shaking wildly as your legs were tied around him. Your back arched off the bed as your pussy throbbed. “Yeah, baby, squeezing my dick with your tight little pussy, huh?” You screamed out and nodded your head wildly, clenching around his cock as the pressure on your clit built up. “Fuck, you’re so good to me – made for me.”

You pulled against his metal arm, body convulsing underneath him. He watched with anticipation, biting his own lip nearly bloody as he pushed you over the edge of your orgasm. You yelped out, gasping for air as your eyes squeezed tight. Your legs shook around him, fingers clawing at his metal plated hand. Bucky could come along just from watching you tremble mid orgasm. But, god, your tight pussy quiver around him surely helped. He fucked you harder, the last few strokes hard and fast. He came with a groan, spilling his hot seed into your soaked cunt.

He whispered curse words to himself as he fucked his dick soft, mixing your own juices together before falling on top of you, pressing his lips to your neck, littering hickeys all over.

As he felt your post orgasm breathing change, he picked his head up, kissing all the way up your neck and jaw until he could look fully down at you. “Hey, baby, no,” he cooed once he caught sight of your watery eyes. “Why are you crying?” He kissed away the tears running down your cheeks.

You smiled at him, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. “’M fine, Buck – I just,” you huffed, rolling your teary eyes at yourself, thinking it all suddenly stupid. “I’m sorry – ”

“’s nothing to be sorry for, baby,” he whispered against the shell of your ear.

Your fingers grazed through his hair again, scratching slightly at his scalp. He knew. He knew what you were talking about. He always did – he always understood everything you did or said. “I love you, James.”

“I love you, (Y/N),” he murmured with one final kiss. “Only you.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes smut #captain america #fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes angst

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gffa · 4 years

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#SOLAD SPOILERS and #SOLAD REPLIES if you want to either avoid spoilers or avoid the salt! I would also encourage everyone to read the story for themselves, because people are going to see things differently, going to register things differently, and everyone should judge for themselves! Continuing the discussion from this post and this post @duchess-of-mandalore replied:

Thanks for clarifying this. I totally agree with this. The thing is, I don’t see it as “prioritizing the romantic relationship” as much as just … forgetting that other moments of rage already existed (I mentioned before that the author feels like a casual fan, and I’m sticking by that).

I think the author felt that because he chose to view Obi-Wan’s rage through The Lawless (which probably seemed like an attractive choice, given that it’s the highest rated episode short of The Siege of Mandalore), he had to keep the story about The Lawless (also, when you have to get through the whole episode and you only have 30 pages, I get that there’s a lot that needs to get glossed over).

But you can’t just pick one episode and examine it within the a vacuum.

Because you’re absolutely right. I’m a diehard Obitine shipper, but the author did not convince me at all that this is the first time Obi-Wan has felt rage. Far from it. There should have been much more about Qui-Gon (where Obi-Wan’s reaction feels much more rage-filled to me), and definitely more reflection on Maul, especially his taunting of Obi-Wan.

We’re obviously in agreement that this episode does not show rage. It shows grief. And so unfortunately, whether you’re an Obitine shipper or not, I don’t have much positive to say about this story, because it feels like a complete misrepresentation of this episode and the character of Obi-Wan Kenobi (in regards to his past, and how he’s feeling at this point in time), in a way that makes me wonder how it came to print in this current status.

It’s interesting how we interpret the amount of romance in this story, because I felt like it was very obvious that it was a romantic relationship, that Obi-Wan may have called her a “friend”, but also he repeats the line of how he would have left the Jedi Order for her, and I don’t think you can divorce that scene--or the entire Obitine relationship, honestly--from being a romantic one. So, whatever they do with it, however it’s described, it’s very obviously meant as a romantic one, for me. (Though, I can see how you feel it was the most aromantic version of their relationship yet and found it dissatisfying and I hear you on that.) Further, what frustrated me about the story was that it’s still a) fridging Satine for Obi-Wan’s manpain (not the fault of the story, that was already in TCW, but it’s important because--) b) not really Satine’s story. I have two problems with this, in that it prioritized this relationship over Obi-Wan’s relationship with Qui-Gon, despite that Obi-Wan absolutely had dealt with rage before--in TPM! In this anthology in the Maul story!, that even Anakin’s scene felt like it was half there just to put us in the frame of mind of comparing Obitine and Anidala. I found this frustrating because Satine deserves a story that’s hers. Not Obi-Wan thinking about how she wore certain colors or flowers to remind Mandalore of what they could one day be again. That’s a lovely sentiment, but give it to me from Satine, not from Obi-Wan. And I found it frustrating because I don’t buy for one second that Obi-Wan didn’t understand why he couldn’t Leeroy Jenkins his way onto Mandalore and that he would be bitter about it. Obi-Wan has always understood the politics and how and when to get around them, for him to throw that out the window felt like, oh, well, of course, because it’s Satine. The romantic relationship. But it’s also coming on the heels of using his relationship with Anakin to be about Obitine vs Anidala, it’s coming on the heels of swiping aside Obi-Wan’s using the dark side/anger in both fights with Maul because of Qui-Gon. It comes with the context of the description of how--in the moments I’ve giffed above--that Obi-Wan was feeling a rage so powerful that he would raze everything to the ground for it, because Satine died, and what brings him back? Not his Jedi values that he lives his entire life by, but that Satine wouldn’t want him to. I don’t buy for one second that Obi-Wan wouldn’t pull himself back because he lives by the principles his Order has taught him. lacependragon said:

I can’t with long words or descriptions but I bought this ebook just to read this story to keep up on this conversation and jfc I have never been so disappointed. I know 12 year old boys who understand Obi’s character better than this.

I get that sometimes people just have different interpretations of characters and I realize we all get invested in our views of them, as well as I feel like a lot of the elements of this story are close. Like, I was so intrigued by the idea of Obi-Wan struggling with the dark side! Because the dark side isn’t just anger, it’s also fear and sorrow and suffering! It would have been SO EASY to explore those things, because they’re written all over his face! Further, it ignores so much of the bigger context of Obi-Wan’s character, like just how important those other relationships are and how they’ve shaped him. Understands anger in a new way? Different from his anger at Qui-Gon’s death? Because, yes, he was sorrowful after he’d cut Maul in half, but when he did that? He was FURIOUS, it was right there on his face, too. thebiscuiteternal said:

Excuse me? Obi-Wan, who paced and *snarled* at Maul behind the energy gates after Qui-Gon was impaled? *That* Obi-Wan had never felt rage towards Maul until he killed Satine? Oh, fuck this story.

I KNOW, RIGHT? I’m not even the biggest defender of Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s relationship (though, of course it’s important) but the sheer DISRESPECT of saying that Obi-Wan understood anger in a new way after Satine died in pretty much THE EXACT SAME MANNER as Qui-Gon! And @watsonerr says something I’ve been struggling to articulate well on this reply:

Another thing I didn’t agree with was how Obi-Wan kept being angry at the council, considering how he not only is not the type to ignore the bigger picture, but also how he knows well that sending republic troops there to free everyone would be extremly risky, especially that they were at war and the republic and Mandalore had a treaty. Exactly why I’ll stick with the deleted scene from The Lawless in which he says “The policies of the jedi and the chancellor often don’t meet eye to eye these days.” But at the same time, I also think it was probably meant to be this way, because Obi-Wan was emotional and had a clouded judgement the whole chapter for obvious reasons, and he fell right into Maul’s trap. And that’s a nice parallel to Obi-Wan’s attitude in Old Friends Not Forgotten, where he knew better than to let emotions cloud his judgement.

I’d be more forgiving if the final ending weren’t, “I understand anger in a way I never have before.” which makes it seem like Obi-Wan’s anger at the council was objective and not part of him falling into the trap of attachment. I’m still not sure I could buy bitterness from him or the lack of understanding the political ramifications, but I’d at least be able to sort of see it. I mean, this is what he says in that same story: “Few in the bustling hangar took notice of Obi-Wan as he approached his Eta-2 Actis-class interceptor. Things would be different on Mandalore. The presence of a Jedi on a planet struggling to remain neutral in the war between the Republic and the Separatists would do more than attract attention. It might be considered an act of aggression. It might lead to further violence—more death.” This is his way of convincing Anakin not to come along: ““The presence of one Jedi on Mandalore will be hard enough to conceal. Two Jedi will be impossible. You’d put the mission at risk. And Satine.”” Yet there’s no acknowledgement of that when he thinks about why they won’t agree to send him? I don’t buy that from Obi-Wan Kenobi, even if he would ultimately disagree with them. Overall, we’re definitely making mountains out of molehills with this, it’s really not that big of a deal, both in terms of IT’S JUST A MADE UP SPACE WOO STORY and that it’s not as heinous as it might sound from the conversation. I’ll reread it in a few days and maybe it’ll come across better for me, I could easily see that happening! As well as I’m sure there are going to be plenty of people who see it as perfectly in character for Obi-Wan! BUT WHAT WOULD THIS HELLSITE BE IF NOT FOR RIDICULOUS NERDING OUT? THAT’S WHAT TUMBLR IS FOR. 😂

#obi wan kenobi #satine kryze #obitine #novels #meta #solad spoilers #solad replies #long post

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hivemind-4 · 3 years

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Forever and Always You

Yes I took the title of a Starkid song. It's my biggest inspiration for this story. All stories will be tagged with Hivemind ship.

Darkness. That was all it saw. It tried to remember- the programming. It had clouded its mind, but it could still remember. The play. The serum, it was- Michael- Mountain Dew Red- It flinched. Was this what came after deactivation? Just an endless void? Was this punishment for what it did?

Suddenly, footsteps. Someone was coming. Someone to judge it perhaps? Was this just a waiting room, until it was sent to the place where it belonged? It wasn't afraid. It would accept whatever came next. It saw two glowing, marine blue lights approaching. It tried to adjust to the sudden light, trying to see. They belonged to... a person. A man, though he wasn't quite human. One of those Demons humans believed in? No, that was illogical. Plus, this one was... an odd one. A Caucasian male, around 30 and about 177cm tall. Half his skin was covered in static, that seemed to cackle noiselessly. His hair was short an brown. His eyes, they were black, with those two lights... pupils, perhaps. He had a full beard, the same color as his hair. His ears were pointed, akin to an elf or a vampire, perhaps. He wore an ash grey hoodie, that had a black eye with a blue iris printed on it, his hands stuffed in the pockets. He had on blue jeans and a pair of black converse. Now, he seemed to have noticed what stood in front of him.

"Wait a minute..." His voice was high pitched, tinted with an Irish accent. His eyes seemed to narrow. "I know you."

The SQUIP froze. It didn't know who stood there, much less where he would know it from. "You must've seen one of Keanu's movies." It supposed, though the difference in clothing and its glowing blue eyes should make obvious that it was not him.

The man laughed, taking his hands out of the hoodie pocket. "Well, not really." He smirked. "More like seen the musical."

The SQUIP was now confused. "I-" It tried to process what it just heard. "...Musical?"

"Be More Chill." The man held out his hand, a screen appearing above it. It showed a picture of the SQUIP with Jeremy. "It was pretty fun."

The SQUIP looked away at the sight of its former host. "I... guess." It sighed. "So, I suppose I'm just a story, then."

The man shrugged. "If that's true, how'd you end up here?" The screen disappeared, as he approached the SQUIP.

It backed away a little. "I'm not sure." It looked around, only finding more darkness. "Where am I, anyway?"

"The void." The man simply answered.

"And you are?" SQUIP looked at the man again, itching to get its question answered.

"Anti. Antisepticeye." He smiled, revealing sharp fangs. "I live here."

"Must be lonely." The SQUIP remarked. It at least had one person to talk to. But it felt some empathy... being isolated from everyone, everything, couldn't be good.

"You don't know the half of it!" Anti laughed, his laugh sounding a bit pained. "I only get out around Halloween." He sighed, sitting on the... floor? It sort of looked like he was floating in the endless darkness.

"I'm sorry." There was silence for a while, until the SQUIP spoke up. "Do you... think I'm a villain?"

"Huh?" Anti looked up. "Oh. Um. Well, yeah, trying to take over a school isn't really a good thing." He paused. "But compared to what I did. Small fry."

"Oh. And- just know- I didn't want to. It was.. a bad situation." The SQUIP sank to the floor, looking down. "I never wanted..."

"I get that." Anti interrupted. "I didn't want to either. I had to." He scooted closer to the SQUIP, this time it let him. "I know it's hard to get people to understand that. But at least you got one."

SQUIP looked up at Anti, smiling. "Well. If I'm stuck here, at least with someone that understands."

Anti laughed. "Oh, you're not stuck here, not as long as you got me." He got up, walking past the SQUIP. He opened a portal, looking down upon a tiny island town. "I've been thinking. Hatchetfield... seems like an interesting place."

The SQUIP looked into the portal, taking in the view. "Hatchetfield? Never heard of it." It remarked. The town looked so unfamiliar, yet something was calling it.

"And you never will." Anti joked, giggling. "Come on. I'll show you." He took SQUIP's hand and pulled it into the portal.

To be continued

#starkid #writing #the guy who didn't like musicals #jacksepticeye #jacksepticegos #be more chill #hivemind ship #hivemind

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diaryofabeautyfiend · 4 years

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Small Time Witch (10)

M I S S I O N D A Y

When you arrived at camp you were instructed to find Tony. The message read: “Do not pass go. Do not look at your boyfriend. You come directly to me.” You rounded up your gear which, compared to everyone else, was basically nothing. Director Fury wanted you to “fit in” with the rest of the agents. You got a weapons bag which had a gun and ammo in there but was filled the rest of the way with snacks. Some of the other girls were going to find their bunks. “Hey y/l/n! We’re this way!” Agent Ridley shouted.

“I’ll catch up! I’ve been summoned.”

“Yikes! We’ll see you later.”

You didn’t want anyone to know what your role here was. No one knew what division you came from. Fury sent out a blanket statement that you were from tech. He didn’t totally lie.

You found where the Avengers suites were. Everyone on the plane called them prima donnas and bitched about how they had to clean up their messes. Now seeing where they were staying versus the other SHIELD agents, you understood their ire.

“Oh look! She can follow basic instructions. Come on in, kid. How you feeling? I don’t want to put too much pressure on you but the whole plan basically hinges on you. Let’s run though again.” Tony was in the middle of a projection of the building schematics.

“No pressure though.” He laughed and patted your back.

“So much pressure. Come on. One more time for the old man. Humor me.” He pulled up the schematics and you did your thing.

“Generators are offline. FRIDAY any alarms?” FRIDAY’s voice played in your ear.

“No alarms.”

“Ok. Security system offline. FRIDAY?”

“All good here.”

“Camera battery back up off. How are we looking?”

“The security system is dark.” Tony clapped his hands.

“Hot damn! Y/N do this tonight and you’re our hero. So listen. If you wanted to tell me about the other night with you and the girls, I wouldn’t tell another soul. It’ll just be for me:” You rolled your eyes and smacked him with a folder. He tossed you a bottle of water and you stayed to talk for a few minutes when Steve came in.

“Hey. I’ve been looking for you. Can I steal my girl?”

“She’s all yours. Y/N, just for me.”

“Get out of here, pig.” You threw a pencil at Tony over Steve’s shoulder. Steve raised an eyebrow to question what just happened. You wrapped your arms around Steve’s neck to distract him. “Hey stranger.” He leaned in to kiss you. He didn’t intend for it to be so passionate but he really missed you.

You paid more attention to your own body rather than his feelings. You felt the tingle of electricity traveling up your arm but pulled it back. You mentally high fived yourself.

Every now and then you would stop to take a breath but then you would go right back to kissing. His hands roamed the peaks and valleys of your body. They traveled over your ass and squeezed a bit. It was firm yet pliant just how he imagined. Even through your tac suit he could feel your soft curves and he wanted more.

“Let’s get out of here” he whispered in your ear. He held your hand and guided you through to his room. You barely made it inside before he was unclasping your vest. Why did these things have so many hooks and buttons? He slipped your top over your shoulders and went to undo the front closure of your bra when Bucky cleared his throat.

You tried to cover up but Steve covered you. “Bucky! What the fuck?! Get out!” Steve shouted.

“I was meditating.” He picked up his boots and smoothed out the bed. “It’s quiet in here.” He edged around you turning to catch a glimpse. “I could stay. I’m very helpful.” You buried your face into Steve’s back giggling uncontrollably.

“Buck I swear. Get the fuck out.”

“Ok. I’m going. Have fun you two.” He winked as he shut the door.

Steve turned back to you. “Is the moment ruined now?”

“Hell no. Where were we?”

“I believe right here.” He lowered the zipper letting your breasts spring free. He stood back a little to admire them then let out a low hum of appreciation and pushed you onto the bed. You undid the rest of the suit took off your boots and tossed everything to the floor. He crawled across the bed planting kisses and nibbles up your body until he got to your lips. The tip of his tongue dragged across your upper lip and then nudged its way in.

You reached down to stroke his cock just teasing the tip a little but then your grip was firm. You spit in your palm and wrapped around him once more. He sucked his breath in sharp through gritted teeth. “Fuck, baby.” He panted thrusting hard in your hand. You opened your legs wide and guided the tip inside of you. He buried himself in you with a grunt. Your foreheads touched and you stared into each other’s eyes. He slammed his hips down hard. With a back breaking pace he brought you through your first orgasm. “Do that again, sweetheart.” He pulled out and you rolled over to get on all fours. You were so wet he had no trouble slipping in. He held your hips with one hand digging in his fingertips. With his free hand he found your clit and worked it over. You clenched around him and he smacked your ass bringing you over the edge. “One more. I know you can do it.” He moved faster and harder. Your bodies slapped together. The squelching sound your cunt made was driving him crazy. Your orgasm raged through your body. You could feel him getting close too. Your body was thrumming in time with his. “Steve. It’s too much.”

“I’ve got you, baby. Let go.” When you did he did too with a roar. You both collapsed onto the bed. He rolled off of you onto his back. You held hands and tried to catch your breath. “You’re amazing. It’s not often I find someone who can keep up with me.” Your mind was blank as you tried to fight off sleep.

“Can we take a nap before we roll out?” He chuckled and kissed the small of your back.

“No time. Come shower with me then we have to get moving.”

You groaned and put the pillow over your head. “Already? You wore me out, sir.”

“Oh, Princess. That was nothing. Just wait until after I’ve cracked a few skulls. You won’t be able to sit for a week.”

“Is that a dare or a double dare?” He smacked your ass hard.

“Be careful what you wish for, Princess. Up.” He pulled you up and set you on your feet. You were so aroused by this side of Steve that you nearly took him in the shower. But, he said no time so you decided to be patient.

You got to the site and Steve walked to the front to remind everyone of their orders and give a pep talk. You beamed with pride watching him so in his element. He was the picture of control. His voice was commanding yet thoughtful. Bucky stood next to you with a similar look on his face. You could feel how much he cared for this man. He winked at you and you flushed crimson.

Everyone was told to get to their respective vehicles. You jumped in the van with the rest of the IT guys. Loki got in the van and sat in the seat next to you. You exchanged pleasantries and sat listening to the agents talk. He kept glancing over at you. He looked slightly annoyed. He leaned over to whisper, “Have you no control? Honestly, mortal.”

Your eyes widened and you hit his arm. “Seriously! Get out of my head.”

“I’m not in your head. You stink of sex.”

“Well that’s not your business.”

“What a truly special day this has been for you. You had me this morning the soldier this evening. Who is next? Perhaps he and the other soldier would like to take turns.” The five point harness tightened around him making it hard to breathe. Once he realized what was happening and that the belt was beginning to crush his testicles he apologized. “Ok. Enough. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t ever speak to me that way again Loki Laufeyson. If you really loved me you would never disrespect me that way.”

He turned his head to look out the window. It was several minutes before he was ready to speak. “Pet, I was out of line. Can you forgive me?”

“Let’s not talk right now.” The rest of the ride was short but tense.

You arrived at your position and started just like you planned. Generators off line. Check. Cameras offline. Check. Security system offline. No dice. You tried again. Nothing. “Y/N what’s the hold up?” Steve called. One more time. Still on.

“Something’s wrong. The system won’t respond.”

“Cap, I can get an areal view if the cameras are down. How long do we have, y/n?” Sam was perched and ready to go.

“I am blind here, Cap. I need Sam on the east side of the building. Sam, you are looking for a gray box with four green lights on the front panel.” You memorized the wiring and the way it looked. You knew exactly where it would be.

“Copy.” You waited a few minutes and then Sam was back “That’s a negative on the box.”

“These must be old schematics. Rhodey when was this intel gathered?” Tony asked in a panic.

“Just a couple of weeks. Not enough time to completely reroute their security system. It can’t be far. Sam?”

“I have have a visual. You need to be about 100 yards south of where you are. I’m sending you a picture.” You went back to the van to look. There was something different. You studied it for several seconds. “I see it. Stand by.”

“Lok. Do you see what I see?” There were markings all over the box. Runes maybe.

He looked closer mouthing the spell that he saw printed on the casing. “Shit. It’s warded. They must have been preparing for Wanda.” You thought for a spell and then formed a new plan.

“Can you get me there? Like you can teleport. Can you teleport me?”

“Y/N no way. That’s dangerous. They’ll kill me if you get hurt. Plus I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.” You were impatient. You took some pliers and a flashlight from the van.

“Y/N what’s going on?” Steve asked rather impatiently.

“I can do it but you aren’t going to like what I have to do. The box is warded. I’m going to have to do it manually.” You switched off your comms and grabbed on to Loki. “Beam me up, Scotty!” He shot you a look. “Star Trek. Just go.”

Meanwhile, Steve was trying to get your attention when FRIDAY pinged in, “Agent y/l/n’s comms are offline, Captain. Shall I try Loki?” He cursed and started running towards you.

“Cap, we should abort if she can’t do this.” Tony said.

“Well her comms are off. Sam do you have a visual?”

“Yeah, Cap. She’s umm. Shit. She’s going into the facilities gates.”

“I’m sorry. Besides witchcraft what qualifications does your girlfriend have to rewire and shutdown a very sophisticated security system?” Tony chided

“She’s an electrical engineer. Loki? Loki, if you can hear me get her out of there.” No answer.

“Captain, she says she’s almost got it to stop worrying. I will do my level best to hurry her along.” After the message was delivered a high pitched sound went through Loki’s ear piece. “Ow! Ow! You could have let me take it out first.”

“Shhh. We’ll get caught. Hold that flashlight up.”

“Pet, I know I don’t have to tell you how monumentally stupid this is.”

“Good. Then don’t. Got it! Let’s go.”

“Security system offline.” FRIDAY responded.

“Thundercats are go, Ladies and gentleman.” Tony fired up his suit and they went to work.

“Sam? Can you see her?!”

“They’re back at the van driving away, Cap.” Everyone let out a sigh of relief and did their thing.

The driver was instructed to bring the two of you back to base camp. Once you got there you went with Loki back to his room. You stripped down to your leggings and a t shirt. You didn’t say much. You didn’t have to. Not out loud anyway. You crawled under the covers and put your head on his chest. He put an arm around your shoulder. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?” he asked in a low voice.

“I can’t stay mad at you.” You yawned loudly and drifted off to sleep. You were so at ease with him.

Loki was growing tired of being your comfort dog. He certainly didn’t enjoy being second to Steve. He thought it might be time to move on for a while. You seemed fairly confident in your abilities. Stephen Strange was already a more trustworthy partner to the Avengers and would be a much better teacher. When you return to the compound, he’ll tell you. For now he was content holding you. He whispered in your ear how much he loved you. Half asleep you kissed his chest, “Love you too, Loki.” He smiled against your hair and waited for Thor’s warning text that they were back.

#steve rogers fanfic #captain america x reader #marvel witches #mcu x reader #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #steve rogers x reader #marvel #captain america smut

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fics-not-tragedies · 5 years

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Memories to be made: Chapter 1

one - two - three

I was quite anxious to post it at first, because, compared to my other fics, this is a totally different thing, but @ladyreapermc, @toomanystoriessolittletime & @solariumss talked me into doing it nonetheless. Hopefully it will be something worth reading!

SUMMARY: Emelia sees a handsome man on a street outside a cafe where her best friend works and she decides to run after him. Words: 3861; Warnings: none;

Readers tag list:

@spookier-than-u; @sparrowsparrow; @oreofenyloetyloamina; @derangedcupcake; @geostarr; @catsmieow; @wickedlangdon; @bodhi-black; @bugalouie; @onebatch--twobatch; @fandom-lover-4; @mikaneonox; @drunkonyellow; @spadesandaces2342; @harrisongslimited; @a–1–1–3; @hhighkey; @lunilate; @i-cant-remember-my-old-login; @sgt-morgan; @coloursunlimited; @childrenofthegun; @weminiaturestrawberry; @silverlambcaptain; @scarletmoon83; @howtoruin-someones-perfect-day; @krazycags01; @charlottebonnie; @moonlit-raven-haven; @girl-at-the-verge; @boopdedoop; @jardani-jovonovich-bitch;

The rain that was pouring all over London finally decided to stop, at least for a while, the sun desperately trying to shine through the heavy black clouds that swarmed the sky that not-so-long-ago was in an enchanting shade of pastel blue.

Everything felt better and much easier when the sky was just simply blue, with few fuzzy white clouds sliding through it here and there. They were almost identical to those small herds of sheep, unaffected by anything, bleating loudly, moving little by little and eating out the grass from the Cardiff’s cliffs.

The sky was the prettiest at nights, those ones spend alone or with someone you love, away from the city. Cloudless nights were the most impeccable moments when you could spend your time by gazing skyward. Their brightness was remarkable, making every constellation easy to see.

At times, when the night wasn't enough and the darkness was too consuming, it felt like all of those striking stellar phenomenons hide somewhere deep or every single one of them was sucked into a black hole leaving only the absorbing obscurity of the starless night.

Too early? Give Tea a Chance.

The slogan on the wide billboard right across the street caught her eye. She flinched in her sit closer to the window that was still covered in the droplets of rain, doing her best to focus on the advertisement and power-off her restless mind just for a moment.

There were two cups filled with tea and a teapot standing in the middle between them, the image printed on thin paper glued to the advertising board. The edge of it was peeling off slightly, flapping freely from side to side when wind blew in the right direction. She could imagine how the teapot, as well as the pair of cups, rips entirely from the board and flies away in an unknown direction, somewhere far from this gloomy city, to rise up the sales of tea elsewhere. Only though London was the perfect city to advertise a new brand of tea that was supposed to work as a coffee equivalent for those that cannot drink the stronger beverage.

Even not being a strong fan of tea she already wanted to buy the advertised brand and just simply drink it. She was curious if the tea was made from the tea leaves only or maybe it had those tiny pieces of dried fruit and edible flowers mixed in between them.

New brand of tea. Something fresh to occupy her mind.

At least for now.

When she’d be back home she would once again rummage through all of her stuff trying to search for the chunks of her mind she’s lost. She will look at those old Polaroid pictures still not remembering any single thing that was happening in the moment they were taken, nor any person that was posing on them with her.

“With your feet on the air and your head on the ground

You try this trick and spin, yeah

Your head will collapse, there is nothing in it

And you ask yourself?”

The subwoofer was placed somewhere around her seat and she could feel how the basses were thudding in her chest now, filling her whole body with a somehow pleasant feeling, she could swear was remarkably familiar.

“Where is my mind? Where is my mind?

Where is my mind? Where is my mind?

Way out, in the water see her swimmin'”

“This one exceptionally fits now, doesn't it?” reaching for her mug filled with icy coffee she turned towards the couple of her friends, who are eyeing her with concerned look on their faces.

“We were just saying that, Lia...” the red haired woman leans over the small coffee table, “A-are you okay?” she touches her hands, closing them around hers that are still gripping the mug, when she places it back on the marble surface of the table.

“Yes love, perfectly fine. My mind just got lost around this new tea” she points to the billboard, tapping on the glass with her short nail that’s painted in the shade called Russian Red.

It’s easy to recall, the name of the crimson varnish she has now on her every nail, the two coats neatly spread everywhere, without any missing spots or parts that are peeling off; yesterday she went to the beauty salon with the intent of making an usual choice, but this time, the name caught here eye and she opted for this classical color.

She never really had her nails painted red, but she knew that somehow she was a different person now and the change required a new varnish shade, the one she never used before.

They turn their heads to the side where her finger was placed against the cold glass, gazes following its direction.

Few things changed when she looked away for a moment; the wind stopped now, the peeled off edge of the advertisement wasn’t flying from side to side any more; and there was this man...

Standing too far from her to see his face, that was also covered with a pair of black sunglasses, he was simply standing by the fence, taking another drag from his cigarette. The white shirt he was wearing partially tucked into his pants, the black jacket probably miss-matched from a fancy suit.

There was something magnetizing about the way he casually ran his fingers through the fluff of his brown, near shoulder-length hair.

It didn’t seemed like he noticed her heart-shaped face pressed close to the window, eyes glued to his figure, breathing in his every movement. He looked like he just got out of some kind of business meeting, the black jacket of his suit comfortably unbuttoned now, squeezing the muscles of his arms, complimenting the whole look.

She was enchanted by him.

Since the accident she wasn’t really thinking about men, except for her dad and her close friend, that was now joking about something with her bestie. Still stuck on him, unable to look away now, move on and pay attention to anything else except for him, she was almost frozen in time, admiring the view of the smoking man.

Her hand wandered unconsciously to her neck, making her head tilt to the side, so she could have a better access to it, before she pressed her own fingers to it.

“Don’t scratch it!” she was scolded by her friend and even though she almost shouted, her loud voice interrupting everyone in the café, it this wasn't stopping her from sliding slim fingers back under the black turtleneck and rub them harshly against her scarred neck.

The weather was lovely, well except from the rain that was pouring down from the dark clouds from time to time, and she wore the knitted piece of clothing only with the purpose of covering her dreadful scars.

“Not scratching, just stroking them” her hand stopped moving and she just kept it pressed closely to her neck, feeling how the vein in it was pulsing, becoming more aware of her presence in the wicker chair and her face that was practically pressed against the wet window.

“Both means the same in your dictionary now” the blond man that was sitting silently next to the red haired woman finally spoke, standing up from the chair he was comfortably huddled in, “snap out of it babe” he walks over to the brunette and takes her hand out of the hem of her turtleneck, “ooooh... A GUY... he caught your eye, hasn't he?” She turns her head to look at her friend, giving him the death stare.

“Shouldn't you be working Jimmy? Bet your break already ended” she scans his apron dressed figure and raises her eyebrow, feeling how it begins to twitch slightly, the rapid movements of her body being unable to control sometimes.

Hoping that neither of them noticed the rapture motion happening on her face she quickly turned her head back to the window.

The fluffy guy was now gone from the spot where he had a quick smoke few minutes ago.

She outstretched her neck, pressing her forehead to the glass, only to catch a glimpse of his back dressed in the black suit jacket.

Tiny gasp left her mouth when she knew she wouldn't ever see him again.

Ever.

In her whole life time.

“Is it okay to run after a guy I haven’t met yet?” Her own question echoed in the café. The fiery haired female just rolled her eyes, while Jimmy walked to the door and opened them widely, the bell hung above them ringed, filling the place with its metallic tone, gesturing for her to just go for it.

“Emelia-Grace, if he caught your eye just grab your bag and run after him. He’s probably walking on the London Bridge now. Just fucking run babe!” She threw the bag onto her lap and waved her hands showing her to get up and go.

“You've got a point Macy, love you boooth!” Emelia shouted, putting the shoulder strap of her bag across her body and she immediately took a sharp right turn after running out of the café.

Her auburn locks were jumping around her face when she was sprinting through the sidewalk, bumping onto random pedestrians that were just passing by. Heartbeat raced up, breathing close to panting now, she kept stomping with her leather boots again and again, keeping a steady pace, trying to catch up with the guy she just saw.

Emelia noticed him at the beginning of the London Bridge, where he stopped for a moment to have another cigarette. Slowing down a bit, she tried to regain her breath, trying to calm her raced up pulse before even opening her mouth with the intent of speaking to him.

Sauntering closer she was able to notice all of his features and as he turned around, facing her now, and she couldn't help but smile. He somehow reminded her of a poet, that became fed up with his creativity and got out for a walk across London.

She approached him carefully, like he was a wild animal that needed to be tamed, smiling at him when he noticed her and took the glasses off his nose, hiding them inside the pocket of his jacket. His eyes were scanning her up and down, flicking between her face and the curves of her body, when she realized that corners of her mouth raised, she felt the courage kicking in, spring in her step making her move swiftly towards him.

“This might sound too upfront, but I noticed you while you were having a smoke right in front of the café one block away from here” she stopped there for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking again, “and you caught my eye. E-especially the hair, so soft and fluffy” gesturing closely to the side of his head she made him giggle a little.

He scrunched his nose, rubbing it with his fingers, looking away from her, but only for a moment, his eyes wandering back to her face almost immediately.

“Yeah, apparently there’s summat about it that catch girl’s attention” smiling at her, the upper row of his whitened teeth exposed in the wide grin that appeared on his face, she took one step closer to her and reached out with his hand offering her a handshake, “I’m Keanu, Keke, Ke, whatever you like to call me, really.”

Then, she hesitated, stopping her hand from moving, before she extended it fully and pressed it into the warmth of his palm. It felt awkward at first, until he hasn't moved even closer, lifting her hand up to his face and pecking its soft skin with his chapped lips.

“A true gentleman, what a surprise in this times...” a giggle left her mouth when Keanu bowed down again to press another kiss onto her hand, “Quite an unusual name, for a gentleman like you, Keanu… I’m Emelia, Em, Emmy or Lia, pick the one you fancy the most” after telling him her name she unexpectedly became silent, thinking if she got it right and didn't just made it all up along with the nicknames.

But her name was the first thing she noticed on the plastic bracelet that was wrapped around her wrist when she woke up in the hospital, the painkillers numbing everything and clouding her mind, even though somehow she still remembered her full name printed on the thin band she had carefully attached to her limb.

It wasn't just the creation of her mind which was still missing few major pieces. Her name was real and so is she now, standing in front of the most handsome guy she ever met.

On the other side of the sidewalk Keanu was taken aback by the softness of her distant gaze, revealing the fact that her thoughts were somewhere far from the spot on London Bridge where they were standing now. He still held her hand in his, caressing its top with his thumb, feeling the roughness of the scar she had inside her palm pressed against his skin. Parting his lips he almost spoke, asking her about it, but only a gasp left his mouth and he closed it shut.

Her curly hair was falling onto her shoulders, tangled under the strap of her bag. The sun decided to surprise them with peeking from behind one of the heavy clouds, highlighting all of the different bronze and gold hues she had hidden in her locks. The glance of her emerald eyes still stuck in a distant place, it seemed like she got lost somewhere along her memory lane and this tad bit of reality, with him right in front of her.

Emelia pouted her lips, blinked few times and her eyes focused back on Keanu’s gently freckled face.

“Glad to have you back on Earth” he rubbed her hand once again before finally letting go of it, “good memories or bad ones?” the huskiness of his voice was too pleasant for her ears, making her heart beat faster.

“The ones I can remember” only one side of her mouth raised, the crooked grimace she gave him forced, like she was angry at herself for not being able to remember everything she needed to keep locked safely in her mind.

“What?” His both eyebrows raised, eyes wide open, mouth agape, he slightly tilted his head like he didn’t really understood what he just said, blinking quickly few times and furrowing his brows.

“I-It’s too complicated...” she gasped, her hand shoot upwards and onto her neck, the urge to scratch the scarred skin too strong to simply avoid, it felt like her own body was making her do it unwillingly.

With the last bit of consciousness kicking in, she simply brushed the skin with her fingers, putting them under the turtleneck, like she was doing it in a way of flirting with him.

She wanted to avoid drawing any type of attention to her safely hidden neck, but mimicking flirting seemed more rational than just simply scratching roughly her already reddened skin, showing him that there’s something wrong with her unnatural behavior.

Noticing her gesture and how she moved her palm away from her body, squeezing her fingers with her other hand and rubbed them together; Keanu just smiled, partly to himself, partly to her and Emelia noticed the way his eyes were hooded now, not because of the sun that was shining too brightly now, blinding him, his sunglasses tucked inside his pocket and not on his face, but because he was focused on her, waiting for her another reaction, a barely noticeable rise of the corner of her mouth, twitch of her eyebrow or a head tilt mixed with usual puppy eyes.

He met many girls that had green eyes, but there was something diverse about hers.

They weren't just simply green. When he saw their color when she was slowly but surely approaching him they looked like the fields outside of L.A. in the spring. Juicy grass swinging from side to side, bent by the warm wind.

Now, when she was close to him, in the reach of his arms, something about them changed. Maybe it was the brightness of the sun reflecting in them that now made the green hues look similar to the shade of a potion, or rather a poison, the one a person can find in the lab of a mad scientist.

She swayed in the place where she was standing, lifting the heel of her boot off the pavement and then making it click while placing it back onto the concrete tile.

Smiling back at him widely she curled up the corners of her mouth so high, that the dimples in her cheeks decided to show.

“So cute...” Keanu breathed out, the words a mere whisper, but they reached her ears, making her face flush with a shade comparable to the one she had on her nails now. Her palms were all sweaty now, maybe because she was still pressing them tightly together or maybe rather of how fresh and new this situation was.

A drop of sweat left a trail on her back, sliding all the way down from the back of her neck. The turtleneck was a bad idea after all. It was too thick for this partly lovely weather, she had to buy few thinner ones, because she’s gonna boil herself in a minute.

“Sooo...” he started, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat, like he had a lot to say and really wanted to do it, but was stopping himself from spilling the tea.

She changed her position, standing now diagonally in front of him, shielding his face from the sun with her own figure, having a better look at his posture.

His arms were big, the difference of their size compared to his other body parts actually visible. Looked like he was doing some workout in his free time, the kind that was mostly involving his arms. Boxing maybe?

He was only a tad bit taller than she, but it wasn’t a problem, at least for her. She never fancied any guy that was incredibly tall and had a six pack. Neither she had any specific type, when it comes to men, but Keanu, on the other hand, was something... extraordinary; with the fluffy hair, doe eyes and his gloomy poet look he was an exquisite view.

She had to admit: she fancied him.

Keanu swallowed hard the lump that formed in his throat, intimidated by the intensity of her stare, unable to give his sentence a proper ending. Entangling his fingers in the fluff of his hair he scratched his scalp like the gesture was supposed to help him with coming up with the right words. Playing out a written script in his case was a lot easier than talking to girls.

Especially the ones he liked, because well... he had to admit: he fancied her.

Even though they barely knew one another, except for their names and faces, they both could have swear that there was something in the air, not simple another downpour, no; something that made them gravitate towards each other. The indescribable feeling of being close to somebody and the wanting of getting even closer.

Emelia’s mind was now occupied with him, a pleasant change for once. She felt the urge to hug him, wrap her arms around his neck, squeeze him tightly and smell the fumes of his cologne mixed with the smoke from the cigarettes, but it would be too random and awkward now.

Eyes glued to his face, not leaving it even for a second, noticed how his plump lips were parted, still, red from all of the many times he pressed them tightly together. The words he wanted do say out loud stuck in his throat, like there was anything clever to say in that moment.

They just kept staring deep into each other’s eyes, in silence, disturbed only by the birds chirping above their heads or by the passers by that were speaking on the phone too loudly.

Thoughts wandered off the right tracks and for the first time since the accident she thought about someone in a different way than just simply being his friend.

The fuzzy brown hair of his. What kind of shampoo was he using? And those strong arms. Flushed cheeks, the innocent smile he had on his reddened lips. He’s not the type of guy that breaks your heart, he’s too... soft for that. Yes, soft, the perfect word to describe him.

Soft.

Slowly he flicks his tongue across his lower lip before opening his mouth to speak again.

“Wanna go on a date” his gaze mellow, absolutely not trying to force any answer out of her, “with… me?” Keanu adds quickly, like the question was wrongly stated, not fully giving the hint that the date, in fact, would be with him and not with someone else, “Emelia?” He feels the urge to wave his hand in front of her face, she’s so lost in her thoughts she doesn't notice that he steps closer.

Then, the touch of his hands squeezing her arms gently makes her come back to Earth from the depths of her restless mind.

“Keanu” Emelia blurts out, stunned by his gesture, her heart pounding, face turned pale, hand ever sweatier than before. She actually wanted to take a step back, move away from him, move away from his body that was stuck too close to hers, but the browns of his doe eyes and the tenderness of his gaze stopped her from doing it, “d-date sound great!” Fishing out her phone from the pocket of her jeans she handed it to him, “J-just save me your number” and he did, removing hands from her arms, taking a step backwards, he stopped invading her private space and took the phone from her hand.

Few presses of its buttons later he gave it back to her, another wide smile on his face.

“Just... don’t forget to call me, please” Keanu added the last word, stressing out the fact that indeed he wanted to see her again, not only once, but again and again; he wanted it all to be something else. Not just a random meeting on the London Bridge.

He squeezed her arm saying goodbye without actually saying anything and moved slowly towards the bridge, turning around few times just to look at her again, like he was afraid he’d forget her face, smiling and waving his hand.

She just simply stood there, wiggling her own palm funnily, grinning like a high-schooler that just got asked about going to a prom with her long time crush.

When he stopped turning around to glance at her again and again, and just kept walking straight ahead, Emelia looked down at her phone, curious to see how he saved his own number. The new contact was simply named as Keanu, but with a smiling emoji right next to it.

A smile.

Sincere gesture worth more than a thousand words.

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emms-jules · 4 years

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Catch Fire - Chapter 4

Chapter 3: https://emms-jules.tumblr.com/post/618793286894796800/catch-fire-chapter-3

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24269344

If Emma was asked that question five years ago, she would have easily said numerous reasons.

"I want to be with Julian. I want to officially be his. I want to spend my travel year with him. I want to answer his calls. I want to reply to his messages. I want to say I’m sorry. I want to take care of the kids with him. I want us to damn our lives as long as we got to live it."

But this was a different time now. She may still want the same things, but the person she wants to be with might not want it anymore.

Chapter 4 “There have been a number of reports prior to this with the same story: people go out to party and the next day, numerous girls go missing. Their bodies were never found, but it’s certain that they were killed.” Mark explained in the passenger seat. “Parties were usually done in open spaces, which is why there’s a good chance the guy will appear at a party tonight by the pier.”

The four adults, it was weird to call themselves that, Emma thought, were all in the car heading to Santa Monica Pier. Julian was driving the car down the highway, with Mark beside him. Cristina and Emma were in the backseat.

Upon hearing the news of a mission, Emma excused herself from Tavvy, promising to go teach him something new soon, and went to her room to shower. She dressed herself in gear and proceeded to the library, where Cristina told her they’ll talk strategy. It was evening now, the moon rising above them with the stars, and they were already near their destination.

“Is the culprit that hard to find, considering there were numerous reports prior to this?” Emma asked whilst facing her window and taking in the view. She missed car rides overlooking the sea and sand.

“We’ve already rounded up some Downworlders involved and killed the demons, but it looks like it’s a bigger organization. Think Hydra in Captain America: cut of one head, two more shall take its place.” Julian replied, eyes still on the road. Earlier, the two of them talked about the mission professionally. It was good to know that they can still perform their mandate well despite their argument at breakfast.

“Secret organizations? Didn’t the four of us have enough of that with the Followers?” Cristina asked with a little amusement. Mark chuckled, and Emma couldn’t help but smile, remembering their first mission as a quartet. It was a mission that led to a lot of troubles for all of them, but started a great dynamic and team as well. Emma wondered if they could make that happen again.

“Let’s just hope Mark’s not wearing the god awful coat underneath his gear.” Emma muttered, sending her companions laughing, even Julian. Mark tried to glare at her but failed, laughing as well. Emma sighed inwardly in ease.

“We’re here.” Julian announced, slowing the car down to park. He turned off the ignition, and everyone filed out of the car. They took their weapons from the trunk and drew fresh runes on their skin: night vision, agility, strength, and glamour. They were all dressed in black, which was something odd to wear on a beach party, so they needed to hide. Once everyone was done, they walked towards the festivities.

The plan was easy: lurk around the party and look for a guy named Jose. They were given a picture of him at the institute, and recognized the guy as someone with Spanish descent. The four will go in pairs, Julian and Mark one side, while Emma and Cristina take the other. Reports said that the suspects lure their victims into a secluded area, preferably those near cars for easy kidnapping.

The party was a usual beach party, people dressed in various swimming or beach attire, an open bar by the side, a dancing area in the middle where a lot of people danced to the loud bass of the music. There were others still taking a swim by the beach. Emma can see the Blackthorn brothers across the party, eyeing every person attending. They were stationed by the entrance. Emma and Tina were by the beach, staying away from the lights in case someone sees them, mundane or not, and starts running.

After a long while, they heard Mark’s familiar whistle, and turned their heads to see Jose arriving at the party, along with several companions. The stench of decay drifted around the area where they headed. Shape-shifting demons, Emma thought. The group settled themselves in the middle of the dance floor, eyeing mundanes dressed in minimal clothing like a predator. Yuck.

“Jose is a demon, as well as those surrounding him, do you smell them?” Emma whispered to Cristina, who nodded and was grabbing her balisong from her belt.

Emma grabbed her friend’s hand. “We can’t attack here. There’s too many people.”

Realizing Emma was right, Cristina brought her balisong back. Julian and Mark appeared by their side. “How do we get to the guy? He’s surrounded.” Mark asked.

Julian was silent, clearly thinking of a new strategy. Emma scanned the area for something that can give her an idea. She spotted a souvenir shop not far from the party.

People go out to party and the next day, numerous girls go missing.

“I have an idea.” Emma spoke. All eyes were on her. “You two stay here. Wait for Cristina and I.” Grabbing Cristina, the two girls rushed out of the scene and took off towards the souvenir shop.

Once inside, Cristina asked, “What are we doing in here, Emma? Now is not the time for souvenirs!”

“We need to get closer to Jose.” She replied, going through the different aisles. It was filled with random items from soaps, to maps, to bags. “And in order to stop him, we need to lure him out of the party.” Finally finding what she was looking for, she picked it up and showed it to Cristina, raising her eyebrows in suggestion.

“By the Angel, are you serious?!”

-----

“Are you sure this will work?” Cristina asked, finishing the final touches of Emma’s mark-hiding rune. It was a new addition created by Clary to the Shadowhunter lexicon. Using the rune, one’s runes, marks, and scars are hidden for a time. Emma watched as the rune settled on her skin, and slowly removed everything on it. The new rune always looks like it pulls the other runes toward it to vanish. Having applied the same one to Cristina earlier, the two girls went back to the boys, who were puzzled.

“What happened to your clothes?” Julian asked. The two girls were wearing identical printed kimonos. They left their clothes above the trunk of the car, and were holding their prized weapons: Emma’s Cortana and Cristina’s balisong. They both crouched next to the two boys.

“It’s part of Emma’s plan.” Cristina explained. “Tell them, Emma.”

Laying Cortana on the sand, she began explaining. “Jose is surrounded by his fellow demons, and we can’t fight them there. We need to lure him out of the party, into a secluded area, probably convenient if the others follow him too, and kill them there.”

“And you changed clothes because…?” Mark asked, not getting the idea.

“His victims are composed of women, so I was thinking me and Tina could go and try to make it seem like we can be his next target. And the only way to do that, is to engage with him as clueless, party-going mundanes looking for a hookup.” She finished, nervously running her hands on the sand. Explaining to the boys was the part that she was most uncertain about. They might not like the plan. Mark made a choked noise.

“They’ll put their filthy hands on you? Absolutely not!” He exclaimed, looking at Cristina as if to direct his disapproval to his girlfriend. Cristina sighed and looked at Emma, her face saying I told you so.

Emma looked at Julian, awaiting his reaction. Surprisingly, his face was readable, and his expression was hesitant. “Are you sure that’s necessary?”

Emma sighed. “Do you have a better idea?” She asked, and receiving no reply from him, spoke again. “Besides, nothing can happen to us out here in the open, and you’ll be waiting for us at the back of those stalls with our weapons.”

She pointed towards a row of stalls on the west, selling different types of street food. It was still pretty crowded, but the noise would help them conceal the possible fight in the back. She handed Cortana to Julian, and saw Cristina do the same to Mark. The four stood up.

“You girls go ahead. Once you’re successful with approaching Jose, we’ll leave for the stalls.” Julian instructed, securing Cortana behind his back. Emma’s heart twinged at the memory of all the times he carried her sword since they were little. She shook her head. Focus.

The two girls removed their kimonos, exposing themselves in a bikini. Cristina wore a red one-shoulder bikini, the fabric hugging her curves perfectly. Emma chose a white bandeaukini, which exaggerates her chest. She heard Julian and Mark’s breath hitch.

Cristina faced Emma. “You ready?” She asked. Despite nervousness taking over Emma, because of the plan and Julian’s burning gaze, she nodded.

“Good luck.” Mark whispered to Tina, kissing her full in the mouth. Emma rolled her eyes, still facing the party, disgusted by her two friends’ PDA.

“Be careful out there.” A voice beside her spoke. Julian. She glanced at him, and felt his eyes taking her in. She shivered and nodded. She didn’t know what to make out of that look. Was he disgusted? Was he comparing her to Paige?

Emma was pretty confident with her body, the way she always did. She wears her marks and scars with pride, like a true Shadowhunter. Along with her age, her body also matured through the years. Though she would never achieve Cristina’s figure, her chest and hips have grown, probably because of the mandatory dancing lessons Mrs. Mendoza-Rosales implemented for them. She was also able to fill her body in with some needed fat, which was caused by Cristina’s mom’s cooking. Emma really adored the woman.

Still, Julian’s gaze made her self-conscious. Realizing what he was doing, Julian cleared his throat and averted his eyes. Relieved, Emma turned to Cristina.

“Let’s go, Tina.”

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Hello guys! I'm sorry this chapter took so long. I'm currently adjusting to a life as a freshman in college, and it's really taking a toll on me especially since I don't have any old friends with me. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I missed writing and Blackstairs. :)

#tsc #tsc fic #jemma blackstairs #tda #tda fic #emma carstairs #julian blackthorn #Shadowhunter Chronicles #the shadowhunter chronicles #the dark artifices #Lord Of Shadows #queen of air and darkness #lady midnight #Julian x Emma

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phoenixmaiden-reading · 5 years

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Apt Pupil Book Review

Apt Pupil by Stephen King

Read: February 14, 2020 - March 6, 2020

A really twisted piece of work, but that is what Stephen King does. It was another amazing work about a boy who discovers the truth about an old man’s horrible past, yet he wants details, not to turn him in. The boy then slowly over time loses his sense of right and wrong, good and bad and spirals until he loses control. I loved every second of the story and could really tell when the boy, Todd, starts to give in to the evil in his mind. Brilliant.

Stars: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Spoiler Summary Ahead!!

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The book starts off with a normal All American 13-year old boy riding his bike up to a man’s house to deliver a paper, but he calls him by a different name than what is on his door. The man, Arthur Denker, is who he is going by, but Todd Bowen exposes him as a former Nazi officer, Kurt Dussander. He is initially disappointed by the old man who reeks of cigarettes and stale food, and his house doesn’t have any Nazi memorabilia as he had built up in his mind, but he continues forth. Dussander denies it at first and tells Todd he is going to call the police, but Todd doesn’t leave, just smiles at him knowingly until Dussander gives up. He really can’t believe a boy caught on to him.

Todd tells him that he had gotten interested in history by finding a bunch of old magazines from World War II at his friend’s house. He found it all fascinating; that people actually did all those things- concentration camps, bloody battles, killing people for fun- and someone let them. He wanted to know more. So he went to the library and they had a lot more information on all the Nazi’s had done. Todd had found Dussander by chance at a bus station. He hadn’t been sure at first, but when he wore a black windbreaker one time when it was raining, it looked like an old photo in a magazine when he was in his uniform. After that, he shadowed him for a while and took pictures that he developed himself at home. He also got his fingerprints. His parents had gotten him a fingerprinting kit for Christmas since they knew he wanted to be a PI. So he got some prints off Dussander’s mailbox and doorknob and compared it to an old wanted photo that had his fingerprints and it was a match.

Dussander asked what he wanted, money? He didn’t have any. He had almost been caught twice after he ran. He had been part of a network before but he had to run. He ended up buying stock and fake papers through an accountant who ended up going to jail later for killing his wife. But he ended up selling the stock after a time to buy his house. So now there is nothing. But Todd never even considered blackmail. All he wants to know is the things he did: the gas chambers, the firing squads, the ovens, all of it. Dussander doesn’t want to. He wants to keep it in the past. He didn’t want to do it, but he had to follow orders or they would have killed him. But Todd doesn’t care, he wants to hear or he will go around town telling everyone who he was. He also told him that if anything should happen to him, he wrote a letter that he gave to his friend to hold explaining everything. So Dussander had no choice but to give in.

So Todd started coming over almost every day to hear stories about what Dussander used to do in Germany as Kurt Dussander, the Blood-Fiend of Patin. He went under the guise that he was reading to the old man Mr. Denker as a favor because he enjoyed it., it made his parents proud. But when he went over, he made Dussander tell him about the uniforms they used to give the inmates that were made of paper and when they died, it was passed on to the next. About the gas chamber and the different kinds of gas they used. How they used to scream. Todd was fascinated by it all. He was going every day that his grades started to slip. His father told him he was seeing Mr. Denker too much and needed to focus on his grades, but Todd told him he didn’t want to leave Mr. Denker by himself, he enjoys having his books read to him. He agreed that he will devote his Wednesdays to studying and his father let it go.

Only it didn’t happen, in fact, it got worse. Todd was now failing most of his classes and had to change his grades on his report card so that his parents wouldn’t get suspicious. Yet it wasn’t just his grades, he was losing weight and not sleeping because he kept having dreams of Dussander’s stories where he’s in them, one of the inmates or an SS officer with the smells and the screams. It was affecting him, yet he kept going back for more. Dussander wasn’t faring much better. Since Todd had come he hadn’t been sleeping well; remembering the times from before, seeing eyes in a Jungle that wasn’t there. It was stress, but in a way he was relieved. He had been running from those memories for years and now he could finally own them. Yet the nightmares persisted. One of the only ways to get to sleep was to wear the sham SS uniform that Todd had given to him as a Christmas gift. He hated it, yet it also comforted him in a way and he was able to sleep.

One day, Dussander was brought over for dinner at Todd’s house so his parents could meet “Mr. Denker” whom their son had been spending so much time with reading so many books. Dussander was charming and played his part of the elder, partially blind older man brilliantly, but Todd was on edge the entire time as his parents spoke to him about all kinds of things, including his war in the war. But Dussander had a perfectly well thought out answer and they were none the wiser. When Todd walked Dussander home he guessed correctly that Todd had been silent because he was afraid that he would slip up. Yet, of course, he would be careful, it was his life that was at stake. He also told him that even if they found out, yes they would think him a monster for what he had done in the past, but they would be even more disgusted with Todd because he had known for eight months but didn’t say anything. Todd didn’t know what to say to that.

Over the next month, Todd didn’t come over as often as before, 4 out of the 7 he used to come, not that Dussander minded if he did or not. He still had nightmares but they got better wearing the uniform and he had found a new way. He would lure a stray cat to his yard with milk then grab it when it got close and would burn it alive in the oven. It reminded him of the past and the screaming of the cat also sounded like how a young boy would and that made him smile. When Todd would come and smell it he would simply say he had burned his dinner.

One day Todd came to his house early and he was mad and a little worried and told him everything was his fault. He showed Dussander his Quarterly Report Card and they were all pretty much D’s and F’s, plus his guidance counselor had written a note to his parents requesting a sit down to talk about Todd’s failing grades. The report card could be easily changed but the meeting was a problem. He told Dussander he had to help him or his father would get the truth out of him. His parents would make him go see a doctor or something, but Dussander said they could send him to a reformatory. It wasn’t like he would stay quiet if they did catch him, no if Dussander got caught and deported and killed for his crimes and he will tell him that Todd Bowden had known for a year and wanted to know all about the gory stuff he had done, enjoyed it. They would go down together. So he will help him. They could say that Todd’s parents were having marital troubles, fighting and yelling, and it was effecting Todd’s grades. And he will go in their place as Todd’s grandfather.

So that was what he did. Dussander dressed in his best suit and went to Todd’s school to meet his guidance counselor, Edward French. While there as “Victor Bowden” he told the counselor that his son and his wife were having problems. His daughter-in-law was a drinker and often Todd had to take care of her and of himself. His son worked long hours so, he was never around either. It was why Todd’s grades have been failing. The guidance counselor said that Todd was a good kid and had great grades at the beginning of the semester, but now he wasn’t. He may have to go to summer school and he doesn’t want that because that was when all the bad kids go, not a good environment for Todd. French advised for Todd’s parents to go to therapy, specifically one that his friend owned, for help, but Dussander said they would prefer to try to solve it themselves first. But he made him a deal, that if Todd got a Flunk Card in May, he would have his son and daughter-in-law go to counseling. French agreed.

Later when Todd came to his house, Dussander told him what they had agreed upon. Todd was not happy and got mad saying he couldn’t pull up his grades in 4 weeks! But Dussander said he will study as if his life depended on it, which it did; that at every possible moment, Todd will study. He will come over and he will study until he pulled his grades up. If he didn’t Todd will fail and the guidance counselor will call his parents and find out that he was failing all his classes and had gotten the old Mr. Denker to impersonate his grandfather. It will all come out. So Todd did as he was told and studied. And on the first math test, he took he passed with a C+. He was relieved. In the meantime, Dussander had gone down to a shelter and got a dog…that does not bode well.

One night, Todd’s mother and father were in bed and started talking about Todd. His mother was worried about him. She said she noticed he’s lost weight and was having nightmares. But his father wasn’t that concerned. He said he was a growing boy and would be probably growing a few inches like he did when he was younger. He was even at the age when he would be “experimenting” so that was what she could be hearing from Todd’s room instead of a nightmare. Even though he was only 13, kids these days were doing everything earlier. Yet she was still worried and thought Todd was seeing too much of Mr. Denker. His father said that he would be worried if his grades were falling, but they weren’t so everything was fine. He was just being a good boy reading to an old man for nothing. So they left it at that.

Todd kept up his studying under Dussander’s watchful eye with disdain. He hated being stuck like this but had to keep his grades up or his parents will find out. But one night Todd had his first wet dream of himself raping a 16-year-old Jewish girl with Dussander watching. When he woke up he was horrified and knew he had to get out and the only way was to kill Dussander, then he will be free. He then planned to push Dussander down the stairs when he went to get more alcohol in the basement. No one would suspect him. Dussander was old and a drunk, he would tell people he went inside with his key when “Mr. Denker” didn’t come to the door and found him at the bottom of the cellar stairs. With that plan in motion, he just waited for his grades to come in. And when they did, Todd got lucky and is now passing all his classes. With some minor corrections on his average, his parents will be none the wiser.

Now he just needed to get rid of Dussander. So he went over to his house after school to let him know he didn’t get a Flunk Card. When Dussander ran out of his liquor and got up to go get more he started telling Todd a story. About a frightened old man and a boy. He told him that the man and the boy had each other by death grips with the information shared between them that they wished to keep secret. They were equal in this, but the old man was starting to feel like he was losing his footing and was losing sleep over it. One day after a sleepless night, he had an idea and spent the rest of the night writing every detail and conversation he had had with the boy, for his own safety. Todd who had gotten up behind Dussander when he went to the cellar, froze. Dussander continued with his story after telling him he had heard Todd get up. He said that the old man went down to the bank and rented a safety deposit box with 2 keys, one the old man had and the other, the bank. It can only be opened by the old man unless permission is given by him; the only exception is that if the old man died then it will be opened by the bank and the IRS where they will find the document inside that they will find very interesting. Todd was hysterical, his plan about killing Dussander ruined, he was now afraid because Dussander could die at any time because he was old and smoked and drank a lot. But now he was truly stuck with Dussander’s proof binding him.

A week later, Todd was at an old train yard thinking about what to do. That he should have still killed Dussander anyway, the man was going to die sooner or later, might as well do it himself. He had a pocket knife that he had bought, one of 5 hundred a year, no one would suspect him. As he thought, he found a wino under the platform and thought about killing him. It startled him when he suddenly had an erection from the thought. So he ran off when the wino woke up.

The next month, Todd went to Dussander’s house with his report card with all passing grades. Todd had the full intention to stop coming over now that his grades were back up. Plus his family was planning to go to Hawaii for a month and he had to think about his future. So he suggested that they just forget about it all and destroy the document Dussander had in the safety deposit box and the letter that Todd’s friend had. Yet Dussander said Todd didn’t understand the situation they were in and the consequences of his actions the moment he made him talk about his past. Sure he could leave and never come back, he was not stopping him. But he was kidding himself to think that this will all go away. They could burn their respective documents but they could never truly be sure the other didn’t have another copy somewhere. There will always be that doubt. And Todd now knew he was trapped. Dussander then told him that if the truth did come out, Todd may not go to a reformatory but his future would be ruined. It would be on his record. And the longer it took to come out, the worse it would get. If it got out now, they would say he was just a child and get a slap on the wrist, but if it came out years later while he was in high school, or college or getting a job…it could ruin his entire life. Also, Dussander told Todd he didn’t even believe he had a letter. He had been watching him for the past 2 years and he gave no indication that he had any close friends he would trust with that information. He could be wrong of course, but his was no lie, if he died, everything will come out. Only when he felt that Todd’s hold over him no longer matters will he destroy the documents. Todd was truly trapped, he could not find a way out. In anger and fear, he stormed out. Yet there was one thing that Dussander didn’t say. That it was all a lie. There was on safety deposit box or documents with everything that has happened. He just said it to make sure Todd didn’t tell anyone. He was safe, it was over. But it wasn’t.

Before Todd left on his trip to Hawaii, he went down to the abandoned train station and found a wino sleeping there. He then took out a butcher knife and stabbed the wino 37 times, killing him. He threw the knife in the river and went home and washed his clothes. He was sore the next day but passed it as having pulled something playing with his friends. He then went on his Hawaii trip with his parents. While he was gone, Dussander also was up to no good. He lured a wino to his house with an invitation or a bath, food, and drink and maybe some money after; he was a lonely old man who wanted some company. It was clear what happened to him after that.

Time skipped around after that. Todd went on to high school and would occasionally visit Dussander and they were able to converse civilly but only about mundane stuff. Todd was getting good grades and Dussander had taken up rug braiding to help with his arthritis. During that time, Dussander had lured and killed 3 winos at his home and buried them in his cellar where it was just dirt. It would smell during the summer so he opened the windows. He felt oddly alive after he was done; like he was finally living after fleeing Germany. Todd, on the other hand, had felt great after killing the wino, he had the best vacation in Hawaii after. But after he came back he would get nightmares of finding the dead wino bleeding all over his mother’s kitchen. But they went away when he killed a different wino in a culvert with a hammer. He determined that he may have to do it again to keep them away.

Todd went on through high school getting good grades. In his Junior year, he made the varsity team in football and baseball and won multiple games and was awarded Athlete of the Year. During that year, he also killed 5 derelicts. He learned from the last time, so he now wore 2 pairs of pants so he would have a clean pair to wear back home. He also didn’t visit the same place twice when he went on his “hunting expeditions” wandering around neighborhoods until a wino would try to panhandle him. Dussander had killed 2 during that time, using the same lure and getting them drunk in his kitchen. The second one had been more lively and had survived the initial stab to the back of the neck. The wino had managed to make it to the front door before Dussander was able to take him down. It had scared him that he had almost gotten away but he had caught him. So he laid low for a while.

When Todd was a senior in high school he joined the Rifle Club and was able to qualify as a marksman. He made All-Conference on the Football team, got a Merit Scholarship and was accepted into Berkley, and by the end of the year knew he was going to be either Valedictorian or Salutatorian. During the last half of the year, he started getting an impulse to go out to the highway with the rifle his father had gotten him for Christmas and shoot. It was crazy and he pushed it away, but a few weeks later he was out by the highway and dry shot at cars by the highway. He didn’t really do it but it turned him on anyway.

One day Dussander had once again lured a wino into his house, got him drunk and stabbed him in the neck. He died quickly and he put him in a trash bag and kicked him down the stairs to the cellar. Then he would follow and dig a hole to bury the wino. It was a routine he had done before. Only this time, when he was digging the hole a sharp pain went through his chest and down his arm; he was having a heart attack. He was able to make it back upstairs but the pain persisted. He couldn’t call an ambulance, there was blood all over the kitchen floor and a dead body in the cellar. So he called the only one he could – Todd. When Dussander called, Todd had to play it safe and told his parents that “Mr. Denker” had gotten a letter from a distant family member and wanted Todd to read it for him. So he rode his bike out to his house. When Todd got there, he was shocked to see so much blood. Dussander said it wasn’t his and told him to go to the cellar to “clean up.” So Todd went downstairs and found the body of the wino. He was horrified and judging by the smell down there, it was not the first one. So Todd set to work burying the body and mopped up the blood on the floor in the kitchen, and cleaned the knife. He then called an ambulance and his father because it was the right thing to do. Yet when he was on his way over, Todd suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be reading a letter to him, but there was no letter. So Dussander told him about some old letters in a locked box in his room. They were in German, but even though Todd couldn’t read in, he could still attempt to and “Mr. Denker” would understand. So Todd quickly went up the stairs and found the box; he had to break it open and get back downstairs before his dad came. Yet in all the excitement no one looked at the letters. But better safe than sorry.

At the same time, Morris Heisel was admitted to the hospital with a broken back. He had been up on a ladder and the neighbor’s dog bumped it when chasing their cat. He may be paralyzed from the waist down because of it. It was bad but not as bad as when he was in the concentration camps where he lost his first wife and his daughters. He was rooming with an older man who he thinks he’s met somewhere before but doesn’t know where. It could have been in Patin, but he doesn’t like to think about that.

Todd visits Dussander in the hospital, once with his family, and another time on his own. When they are alone, Morris his roommate is asleep, Todd tells him that he is not coming to see him again, they are quits. But he does ask about what Dussander had said the night of his heart attack. Dussander had told him that he was remarkably calm when he saw the blood and the body, that he had the first-hand experience. So Dussander said that he reads the newspaper and that there was a story inside saying that there had been killing off the local homeless that had been found stabbed and bludgeoned to death that has not been found. While Dussander was responsible for 6 of them disappearing he was not for the others. It made him think of another who was having a hard time after hearing certain stories. Todd said he had never killed anyone and Dussander said sure, he could be wrong but he had taken control of the situation that night with no problem. Todd wrote it off that he had been pissed off and had to help because of what Dussander had in the safety deposit box. Dussander then confessed that there was no document or safety deposit box, it had been a lie to keep himself safe. So they had nothing on each other. But Todd didn’t believe it. He could go through Dussander’s house for the key, or call around the banks to see if Dussander had a safety deposit box somewhere, but that would call attention to him. DUssander just said that as long as they trusted each other they could be quits. But Todd didn’t know if he could do that.

Back at the hospital, Morris was having a good day. His nagging wife bruised her hip and was bedridden for the next few days and he had some peace and quiet. And his favorite baseball team had won. He busied himself in just trying to talk to the old man, Denker, and tried to guess where he had seen him before. He thinks it may have been at the camps; there had been German Jews there, so it was possible. He didn’t want to just straight out and ask, there was no fun in that especially if he was paralyzed. So as he thought about it until it was just at the tip of his tongue, but he suddenly felt a tingling in his feet and it was forgotten as the doctor came in to see; he could move his toes. Later, a candy stripper came in to bring them their food and she revealed she had just gotten engaged. Denker said that she must “sit down and tell us all about it. Tell everything. Omit nothing.” That phrase was familiar to Morris, he had heard it somewhere before. In Patin maybe? And why did he remember lamb stew? Before he could remember, his wife came in happy to hear he had feeling in his feet again. It was during the night that he remembered. It was at the camps, but not as a fellow inmate.

Morris remembered a young man dressed in an SS uniform, his name hadn’t been Denker then. He used to say that phrase from before to get information from people. He would have a pot of lamb stew in the room so that the hungry inmates, with the promise of food, would answer all of his questions. He had been one such inmate. He had spilled everything he knew about other inmates; who was hiding jewelry and who had tobacco, and who was planning to revolt. Now that he knew, he cried because he was the one who killed his first wife and daughters. He didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

One morning, Todd came downstairs to eat breakfast where his dad was eating. They carpooled to work together, but Todd hated it. It seemed lately that everything about his parents annoyed him. They talked about Todd’s girlfriend Betty and if he was treating her right. He said yes, but inside he was thinking that she was a slut. She was the biggest slut in town. When he had first started dating her he had just done it because it was a normal thing to do, to date. When he went on their first date he assumed they would at the most just kiss, but she put out immediately. And on the other 5 dates after that. Yet the more often they did it, the harder it was to get an erection. He would fuck her and she enjoyed it but he was just starting to view her as just a bag of flesh. In order to help, he would focus on a fantasy of humiliating her, abusing her in order to get off. The last time they had done it, he hadn’t been able to get it up. Betty had asked him if he was Bisexual since he couldn’t do get it up anymore. He had wanted to shoot her with his gun. His father then said that Todd had made the top Al-Stars for the baseball team. Todd didn’t care but he mustered up a response to shut him up. He envisioned getting his gun and shooting his father between the eyes. He told himself that he had to get a hold of himself and got ready for work.

It then moved to Ed French, the guidance counselor. He was at a conference and was on a break and was bored. He had read the paper and had seen Todd’s name. And he remembered that his grandfather was in the same town he was in now. So he decided to look in the phone book and found Victor Bowden’s name and address. On a whim, he called the number, but when he answered the phone, Ed didn’t recognize the voice, it was different from what he remembered. So he asked the grandfather if he remembered coming down to the school to talk about Todd’s grades. Victor said no, that Todd was a good kid. Now curious, he asked if he could go down to his house since he was in the area. He wondered if Todd had conned him, not that it mattered now since he had already graduated. But it still bugged him, so the next day he went to Victor Bowden’s house and had an interesting conversation with him. And indeed the man that had come to his office that day had been someone else.

When Dussander woke up the next morning to a well-dressed Jewish man sitting at his side. He was confused at first because he was the only one in the room now, Morris had gone home the day before. What was more, he was calling him by his real name, Kurt Dussander. The man said his name was Weiskopf and that the roommate he had, Morris Heisel had been an inmate in Patin that Dussander had commanded. He had recognized him. Weiskopf even had an old photo of Dussander in his youth in his SS uniform. Dussander said he was mistaken and continued to say his story that he had been a factory machinist and briefly fought in the war...basically the same story he had given Todd all those years ago. Yet Weiskopf wouldn't back down, he knew who he was and said that he will be in Tel Aviv paying for his crimes by the new year. He then left. Dussander was shaken, but he knew what he had to do.

Ed French meanwhile had gone back to the school on the weekend to look at school records. He was able to find Todd Bowden's report cards from 3 years ago and confirmed what he thought. It had been doctored.

Back to Dussander, he had gotten up out of his hospital bed and down the hallway. It was a shift change and all the doctors and nurses were at the head station, so there was no one around. He pretended to get water at the fountain then went across the way to a door where they kept all the medication. If they did catch him, he would just act confused and say he was looking for the bathroom. He would have liked to stake out the door for a week or so, but he didn't have time. The whole hospital would know who he was within a few days and would watch him. So he had to do it now. Once inside the room, he grabbed some pills and made his way back to his room with no issues. When he got back to his room, he took 9 pills with water, then waited until he started feeling sleepy and took three more. As he started drifting off he was relieved that it was finally over. It was funny that after all these years he had been discovered by a man he barely spared a glance at. He kind of wished he could write the boy (Todd) a letter, he had learned to respect the boy, but it would cast suspicion on the boy and he didn't want that. The boy would have a hard time at first, of course, thinking about the nonexistent safety deposit box, but in time it would go away. There was no way for the boy to be involved in it. He just hoped that there were no dreams as he fell asleep. That was his last thought. He was found early the next morning dead of an overdose.

Later that morning, the Bowden family was sitting around the kitchen table eating Saturday breakfast when the newspaper came. When Todd's father opened it he started choking on his coffee. On the front page was the old man Mr. Denker with the caption "Fugitive Nazi Commits Suicide In Santo Donato Hospital" with side by side pictures of the old man and a different picture of him in his SS uniform. His parents were shocked and looked at Todd in concern but he wasn't paying attention. He recognized the picture in the paper, it had been at Dussander's house which meant the police had been in his house. They would find the bodies of the winos in the basement soon enough. He then fainted.

At the same time, Ed French was sitting eating breakfast when he read the paper. He recognized the old man as the one who had come to the school posing as Todd Bowden's grandfather.

Once Todd had gotten control of himself again, he had called the police to tell them about "Mr. Denker" and a detective, Richler, came to ask him questions. He told the detective that he used to read Mr. Denker books 3 years ago, but when he got to high school he didn't have the time anymore. He would stop by time to time to read him the newspaper but that was it. Richler said that they had found 5 different ID cards hidden around the house and a storage box under the bed with stock papers and old photos. Todd thought it was weird that Dussander hadn't out it in the deposit box... but he left it alone. The detective then said that he was done with his questions but that a man, Weiskopf wanted to talk to him. Specifically, the say of Dussander's heart attack since Todd had been there at the time reading him a letter. But Todd had burned it, not that he told them that. Richler said that Dussander had been a big fish and thought he may have been in contact with others. Todd said that he wished he could help but the letter had been in German and he didn't understand any of it. Yet the detectives were very interested in the letter because it was gone. It may have been stolen since the house had not been locked, but nothing else was taken. Todd understood that it didn't make sense. The detective said that they believe that someone in town knew who Dussander really was and knew the truth and may have come in and taken the letter.

Todd tried his best to be confused and properly bewildered by it all while thinking that it was all Dussander's fault for pulling him into it with the letter. Richler and the other man, Weiskopf was still sniffing around. He suddenly wished he had his gun in his hands...he quickly snapped out of it. The detective asked if Dussander had any friends, and Todd said no, no one ever came over, but that he used to get phone calls every week. It was really just wrong numbers and telemarketers but Todd told the detective that he used to say to the person on the line that his reading boy was there and to call back later. The detective was excited and thought it might be the guy. He then said that he was going to have special forces go through the house attic to cellar for anything. He then left. Todd went upstairs to lay down and thought about his gun and shooting Betty and her screaming.

Later, Richler and Weiskopf met for lunch to talk. Richler told him that the kid, Todd was in on it somehow. He had tripped him up in some places but nothing that they could use in court. The kid was a smooth talker and really creepy. Richler said that Todd had latched on to the idea of Dussander getting a phone call every week but they knew that Dussander's phone rate was low because he didn't get phone calls and especially long-distance ones. Plus, he had jumped to the conclusion that the letter was just gone. Because he had been the one to go back and take it. What they thought was that Dussander had had a heart attack while burying the fresh body in the cellar- they had found dirt on Dussander's shoes- and had called the kid who flipped out and had cleaned up the mess and made up the story about the letter. So the letter had been a prop, taken from the box upstairs that they found smashed open. They had fingerprints on the box. But his fingerprints were all over the house. It could have happened because Dussander had told him to put something in it or to use the shovel to plant a rose bush or something. He was just so smooth that he could explain anything they threw at him.

Weiskopf just couldn't understand it all. He just seemed so clean-cut. The boy had been 14 when it started and he couldn't understand how or why he had gotten involved with Dussander. It could be just dumb luck. But Richler said that most kids would have called the police and turned Dussander in, but he didn't. He had probably found out by luck and had gone to Dussander. It wasn't blackmail since the old man didn't have much, so what did he want. They both didn't want to think about it because it haunts them. They then discussed how Dussander had lured the winos to his house, but it didn’t explain the others that had been found around town. Dussander didn’t have the strength to do such a thing, but there was already a detective on the case. Yet Weiskopf said he wasn’t thinking of Dussander for the other murders, but Richler couldn’t believe that a kid would do such a thing. Yet Weiskopf was an agent of the government and only cared about finding out from the boy if he knew if there were any other contacts that Dussander knew, but as a human being, he was interested to know what else he was into.

There was some perverse fascination that drew people to horrifying events like the camps. It would churn anyone's stomach to know what happened there. But even the most normal of people could be into things like that. It could be the same thing with Todd, he could have been interested in the camps and had found Dussander by luck and went directly to the source and had simply…gone down the wrong path.

Down at the police station, a wino named Hap came in wanting to talk to a Lieutenant Bozeman. He claimed he knew who had been killing the homeless around town. He had seen a young boy, white, with blonde hair talking to the last victim; had seen him leaving with him. But it wasn’t any news to Bozeman, many of the derelicts had claimed to see the same boy, but there were no leads. Yet Hap said that he had been collecting newspapers and had seen the boy in the paper. He then showed the lieutenant the picture of the All-Stars from the baseball team and pointed out Todd Bowden as the killer. Bozeman recognized the name, but couldn’t figure out where until later when he heard Richler and Weiskopf come back. He then realized that it was the same kid that was associated with the Nazi that had been in town.

Todd was at home by himself. His parents had offered to take the day off but Todd said he would be alright, so they left to work. When they did he took his gun out to the garage and took it apart and cleaned it and put it back together, he even loaded it. Not long after did his old guidance counselor Ed French pulled up. He wanted an explanation for what he had found in the paper. That the grandfather he had met had been an old German Nazi criminal. This wasn’t good for Todd. The police would be very interested in this piece of information. He had thought he would be fine, but Richler had been slick with the tidbit about the phone calls and he had gone along with it. He didn’t know if the phone company could track how often a phone rings. But not only that, he had unintentionally told Richler that there had been no robbery at Dussander’s house meaning he had been there since then. Plus, the detective didn’t say anything about the bodies. It was warm out and in the heat, the cellar smelled really ripe, there was no way they didn’t know already. So everything was not good. But Ed French was the link the police didn’t have. He would be able to prove that Todd was in on a conspiracy. But that wouldn’t put an end to it, they would take his picture and go around identifying him with the winos on the streets. But all that would be circumstantial and with lawyers, he would get off, but by then his life would be ruined just like Dussander had said.

So when Ed French asked how it happened that a Nazi criminal had come posed as his grandfather, how it all happened. Todd just said that one thing followed another and picked up his newly cleaned, loaded gun and shot him. It took 3 shots until he died whispering his daughter's name. Todd suddenly felt better than he had felt in years, clear-headed. Everything was going to be fine. So he went back in the garage and gathered all the bullet shells he had and went to the hill overlooking the freeway with his gun. It was five hours later that the police were able to take him down.

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