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beyondspaceandstars · 4 years ago

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While You Sleep

Chapter 12

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: kidnapping, violence Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

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“They couldn’t take that from me. They could never take you.”

“I never want to bring you pain or worry, okay? That shouldn’t be what… we do.”

Bucky’s words rang in your head as you sat in the lonesome cell, fighting for release any way you thought to try. But naturally, these attempts of wrangling yourself out of this had fallen flat and you weren’t trying anymore, that’s for certain. It only made the restraints dig into your wrists more. Not to mention you were beyond tired hitting a point of exhaustion that you didn't know was possible. You weren’t given a chance to relax as you sat on edge, waiting. Waiting for what - or really who - you didn’t quite know.

Sure, you had an Avenger for a soulmate (at least, that was what you considered Bucky, despite his humbleness) but you weren’t exactly up to date on their enemies. From your understanding, between the looks of the facility and your soulmate’s history, this was seeming like the work of Hydra. But they had been abolished...right? Apparently, you didn’t know anymore and doubts rang in your head as you feared you weren’t some random victim.

The first signs of daylight were just beginning to peek into your cell from a very tiny, thin window located near the top of the wall beside you.

Suddenly, a grumbling voice called from outside the cell. “She’s up.” You whipped your head towards the sound, just barely able to make out a figure illuminated by the early morning glow. There was probably some comment to make to whoever this was about how you hadn’t really slept but you couldn’t find your voice at the moment.

“Excellent.” A deeper, possibly older, voice called from down the hall. The man sounded way too excited for your liking. Your stomach threatened to empty its contents as heavy footsteps began making their way towards your cell.

When the steps stopped, you tried squinting through the minimal light but still couldn’t make out much of either man. If you had to guess, they looked like some doctors of sorts in long lab coats with notebooks in hand. One thing you definitely could tell was that they didn’t hesitate to stare back. You could feel their eyes taking you in over and over again making your heart pound in a weirdly familiar way.

“Does she speak?” The first man asked with a humorless scoff. You twisted in your wrist restraints wishing for some courage to get up and maybe put space between you.

Mustering a scrap of energy, you turned away from the men, hoping maybe your matted hair falling in your face could block them out forever. Because really, couldn’t this be forever? How would anyone know what happened? Your best bet was your coworker noticing your absence but then you thought of Bucky… He was away for now and by the time he caught wind who knows what would be of you. Tears began welling in your eyes at the thought of this being it for you -- whatever this was. You still weren’t sure what about you compelled these men to kidnap you in the middle of the night.

“Hey,” the same voice called out to you this time, pulling you from your troubling thoughts. Slowly, you turned back to him, taking in more of the doctor (fake, you guessed) persona now. “I asked if you speak.”

“No,” you grumbled. You didn’t know where this smart response came from but it made you feel a bit better like you were coming back to yourself. Really, though, you were in no position to start getting smart with anyone.

He let out a joyous laugh that sent far more fear through you. “The Soldier’s soulmate has an attitude, huh?”

Soldier? Bucky. Your heart panged at another thought of him. If that’s who they were referring to, this was to be about Bucky, you realized. These men knew him and whatever connection was festered there, it hadn't fizzled and you were caught in the crossfire. This actually couldn’t be them… But it looked like it.

Suddenly, the cell door opened with a loud screech, and the two men walked into the full glory of the morning sunrise. There, on their white coats, you saw an emblem of what appeared to be some tentacle-bearing creature. Your suspicions were regrettably confirmed.

They walked towards you, their eyes looking over you as if you were an experiment and they were memorizing you. With fear racing through you, you slowly began scooting backward trying to get as far away as you could. Your back eventually hit a wall and they just kept coming.

“Quite the squeamish one for being chained to The Soldier,” the second man observed, writing something down in his notebook. You could see now that he was much older, having that wiser look in his older years. You guessed he was a leader of sorts (at least, that was how you were going to file him in your head) and the other man, the one who was so kind to comment on your attitude, was some kind of assistant. You couldn’t take your eyes off the logo on their coats as it was practically screaming in your face. It all felt impossible and yet here you were, in the belly of the beast.

“W-What am I doing here?” You asked, your voice scratchy and nervous. Honestly, you were just glad you had the guts to make any noise. The assistant looked a bit humored at your question.

“Wow, she speaks full sentences,” he commented with an unsettling smirk.

The “leader” of the pair shot him a look before turning back to speak to you. “We have some observing to do, my dear,” he briefly explained.

The vagueness of it all was certainly not helping you - like anything realistically could in this moment. Still, you pursued it. “Observing?”

He hummed in response, turning back for a moment to write a few more lines in the notebook. Truthfully, you wanted to just kick it out of his fucking hand. Your eyes flicked quickly to the assistant but he wasn’t handing out any hints, just looking at you like you were something to be conquered. Oh, how you wanted to vomit on their shiny dress shoes.

“I will explain our intentions to ease your mind,” he snapped his notebook shut, “but first, you are to be moved.”

And just like, as if his words were keys, a hoard of men entered the cell and hoisted you to your feet. You tried kicking and screaming but they were strong. Maybe too strong. A strength you possibly could only recall in two other men you knew. But you didn’t have time to dwell on it as they corralled you easily and forced you down the hall.

Everything was dark again. There was no light from the windows in the hall, just some musty glows of lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling. You didn’t know where to look so you just stared downward, taking in the metal flooring that made you chilled.

After turning a few corners, you were brought to a much larger cell. This one at least had a chair, but you didn’t think it was exactly a nice grand gesture as your eyes landed on the restraints attached to it. The second thing you noticed was some sort of computer-like machine and rolling tables which lined the side. If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought this was just another medical office.

You yelped as one of the large men threw you on the chair, not giving you a second to even adjust before your hands were unbound only to be rebound by the chair’s restraints. You tugged a bit at them out of reflex, finding them as sturdy as expected. Your legs were free, though, maybe offering some tactic but exhaustion and fear overtook you.

Once they deemed you settled in, the army of men left, walking in line as commandingly as they had entered. The leader and his assistant stayed, waiting for you three to finally be alone once more. The door shut with a disturbing bang, really sealing your fate. The assistant stayed off to the side, leaning against a wall adjacent to the chair. The leader walked over to you, taking a seat on some rolling stool. Wow, these guys really thought they were serious professionals or something.

“I hope the trip here was okay,” the leader said with a chuckle. “Comfortable?” He motioned towards your lounging state. You blinked. “I see we are losing that attitude. What a shame, really. I’m sure your soulmate loves a firecracker.” Your body visibly tensed at the mention of Bucky. The elderly man didn’t miss it. In fact, it seemed like you unintentionally gave him the perfect segue into his whole evil spiel.

“Ah, yes, your soulmate.” The leader nodded as if he had just forgotten all about it. “Well, you see, the fact he even has one was news to us,” he shrugged and glanced at his assistant who nodded in confirmation. “We were sure when we wiped him we were wiping everything, so imagine our surprise when we find out he’s out and about dancing - with you on his arm.”

Your throat tightened as the memories of you and Bucky at the dance hall flooded your mind. It had been so busy that night you never would’ve thought you’d have to worry about someone… It sounded so ludicrous to you. You almost wish he hadn’t said it as the thoughts of that night were suddenly a bit darker. The carelessness you two had held seemed foolish now.

The leader watched you carefully. When you didn’t say anything in response, just blinked away more tears, he continued, “At first, we were quite angry we had missed something so big. We could’ve sworn we broke every attachment time after time but, as I said, you just swept The Soldier right off his feet. So, naturally, our sights were set on eliminating you.” He let out a ridiculous hearty laugh. “But then my assistant here,” the man in the corner waved in response, “realized that that would be a waste. There could be potential here for you. For you and your soulmate. Potential rooted in a team. Two unbreakable soldiers, both in bond and skills. What more could Hydra want?”

You gasped, your eyes growing wide, at the explanation. You didn’t know what to do now, your body had a mind of its own as it began shaking your head furiously as your wrists tugged and tugged at the restraints. This wasn’t realistic. They were absolutely mad. What kind of foolishness was this? They couldn’t possibly -

“Now, now,” the leader chuckled and turned to his notebook. He began checking referencing stuff from the monitor to the paper. “Don’t get too excited. We’re still brainstorming the whole concept and while it’s not near execution, it is on the promising side. There is, though, a vital component we seem to be lacking: your soulmate.”

Bucky… Your heart felt like it was going to rip itself out of your chest. Was he walking into a trap? Assuming he was walking in at all? Who was to say he had any idea of what was going on with you? How long could this all be for… You let out a surprising sob.

The leader responded to your outburst with an annoyed scoff. “There’s no reason to cry, dear. He’s sure to be here soon thanks to that little bond you have. If he hasn’t already recognized your distress by now, well, he’s not as smart as we thought.” He shrugged and began typing away on the monitor’s keyboard. “The whole attachment may all work out in our favor after all. Eventually, you two will be reunited, and won’t that be just lovely?”

Truthfully, you didn’t know anymore. You had no doubt in Bucky’s fighting abilities but these guys were… Well, they were pretty much responsible for him and everything you had seen him be put through. Who knows what they could do if (and when) he walked through those doors. You were lucky you hadn’t passed out yet from this anxiety alone.

“Besides, as I said, it’s all later down the line anyway,” the leader said. It had suddenly occurred to you at that moment that you were very glad he hadn’t given out his name. You couldn’t imagine humanizing these monsters. ��For now, though, we are interested in learning more about you. I’ll be honest, on paper you are quite boring. Barely finished high school, left college for a coffee shop job… The pairing is almost comical. We just can’t figure out what you offer him and while, really, who are we to question Fate? But I still think in time we can figure out...well, whatever it is about you.”

You shook your head slowly, your eyes barely even able to focus on him anymore. Everything in you felt so heavy. “I’m not special.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong,” the leader chuckled. “He makes you special.”

As if on cue, a chorus of screams erupted from the hallway. You all jumped and turned towards the door. There was a little window on it but all you three could see were the bodies of the army of men from earlier flying about.

“Sooner than we expected,” the leader mumbled and began furiously typing something into the computer.

You didn’t know what to do besides sit there and wait for whatever was coming. Deep in you, you knew it was Bucky, you could feel it. You could feel him. But there was also a part of you that could also sense… rage. A very familiar, unsettling rage burned within him. It made you wonder if you actually wanted to see him in such a state. Some sick piece of you wished they had just knocked you out.

There wasn’t much more time to consider what you were going to do as the door to the cell was ripped off. Literally, fully, ripped away at the hinges to reveal a very determined, very angry, Bucky. He had an expression you didn’t recall seeing before, even in the nightmares. He looked ready to murder everything in its path but there was no calculated strategy to the madness. It seemed to be just him and his pure desire to eliminate anything and everything. His eyes were locked deadly on the older man, seemingly opting to ignore you. The assistant had begun shifting further away into the corner of the space.

“So nice of you to join us,” the leader said with an unsettling laugh. “I’ll admit, we weren’t expecting you so soon. I barely got a chance to get to know your little darling here.” He motioned towards you.

“I’m only going to ask this once,” Bucky finally spoke, his voice strained, “let her go.”

The leader smiled, “I’m not sure you’ll be asking for anything in a moment, anyways.” He motioned towards the computer. You and Bucky followed his motion with matching bewildered expressions. “In fact, I think you’ll be the one doing what I ask.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “No-,”

But it was already set in motion. With a simple press of a button, the room filled with an electronic voice repeating a series of words in a foreign language. You looked around, unsure of where this could even be coming from and what the hell was being said, Your eyes eventually settled on Bucky who looked completely… lost. You gripped the sides of the chair, begging for this to just be over, as you watched that was so familiar. You could feel the memories rising from the depths of your brain. Hidden away, nearly suppressed... You gasped. The nightmares. That’s what all this was. They had pulled the trigger.

As much as you loved and trusted Bucky, you couldn’t say the same for the other guy. If in that state, could he even recognize you? Like, fully understand your role? You didn’t want to find out, truly. The panic that was settling in now was unlike anything you had experienced that day. Not even the idea of Hydra goons kidnapping you had sparked this much within.

You were preparing yourself for the worst as you watched Bucky try to shake it off. The leader wore a proud expression while the assistant kept his lonely distance, watching everything unfold. Suddenly, Bucky began mumbling to himself as his hands made hard fists. You thought the blow was finally coming and he was going to be gone. Just like that.

But then Bucky lunged. In one swift move, he pounced on the leader, taking everyone in the room off-guard, especially the target of the aggression. The older man hadn’t even had a chance to put his arms up before your soulmate was punching him relentlessly. Bucky’s yelling in the process was of pure, expressive anger, completely drowning out the screams of pain from the leader. You didn’t know what to do. You wanted to look away so badly but you were also hypnotized. Bucky was so determined and unwavering in whatever goal was planted in his head. A bit thankful someone would go to such lengths for you, you had had enough of such danger in your sleep - you didn’t want it in your reality.

Bucky switched suddenly to strangling the man and that seemed to be the final straw for the leader’s life. The older man was soon just a lifeless, limp body on the floor. Bucky was still knelt above him, watching the soul drain from his victim. Your jaw went slack. You couldn’t turn this off.

The assistant didn’t help it as he made some foolish break for the exit but Bucky was just as fast. In a couple of determined strides, Bucky yanked the younger man back by the neck and threw him into the wall creating an artistic indentation. The assistant fell to the floor with a chilling thud.

There was no one left for his sights to land on except for you. Slowly, Bucky turned around. A shiver ran up your spine when your eyes finally met. You didn’t know who was standing before you. Whatever or whoever this was quickly began stomping their way towards you. You shut your eyes and flinched away, waiting for a painful, finishing blow from the Soldier.

But it never came.

Instead, all Bucky did was lean over to turn off the speakers and then began untying your wrists. Hesitantly, you turned to look at him but found he wouldn’t look at you, just was intensely concentrated on the restraints.

“B-Bucky?” Your voice was scratchy as you fumbled over his name.

“It’s me, doll,” Bucky responded with an exhausted sigh. He sounded normal to you, his demeanor not even looking close to what you remembered from the nightmares. He… He was okay. Bucky still wasn’t looking at you as he finished one restraint then went on the next.

“You’re not…”

Bucky shook his head. “Everything’s okay,” he mumbled. “We’re getting you out of here.”

“We?”

“The team is outside handling the other men.”

“You all came for me?”

Bucky finally looked up at you. For the first time, you could see just how tired he looked. A man nearly on the brink of defeat and enduring the fight. Your heart ached as all you wanted to do was crawl into his arms and take the longest naps of your lives.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Bucky nodded. Gently, after the last restraint was undone, he picked you up bridal style. You threw your arms around his neck and buried your face in his shoulder, letting yourself relax and the tears flow.

“Thank you,” you mumbled but Bucky didn’t respond as he carried you out of the facility

***

You must’ve fallen asleep because a few hours later you awoke at some sort of compound. You were lying in what appeared to be a hospital bed but nothing about this place looked like a typical hospital. The technology was too advanced and everything just seemed too quiet. You looked around, letting your eyes adjust to the bright light of the sun shining in from the large room windows. In the corner, you were greeted by the sight of Bucky sleeping awkwardly in a chair.

You twisted in the bed, trying to get more comfortable under the blanket. The super-soldier hearing must’ve kicked in because one ruffle of the blanket made Bucky’s eyes shoot open. He looked at you, panic shifting to relief when he saw you were awake. Quickly, in a few steps, he was out of the chair and at your bedside.

“How are you feeling?” He asked softly. His hand went to touch your cheek but he must've thought better of it and instead lowered it. Your heart broke a bit wondering what self-deprecating thoughts were running through his brain after everything he had to do.

“I’m okay. Just a bit sore,” you shrugged but boy was it the hard truth. You hadn't been in a comfortable position in hours and endured being thrown around like some rag doll.

“Do you need any medicine?” Bucky asked, his voice suddenly having an air of panic to it. “I can call for help if you need it. Are you hungry? Do you need water? Or - Or just anything to drink? I can get you-,”

“Bucky…” You placed your hand on his to calm down. He flinched at your touch. “I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

He shook his head. “Nothing is fine, sweetheart. You were taken from me-,” Bucky cut himself off as his eyes began welling with tears. He looked wrecked as he stared down at you, taking in your current state. You felt the pain, wanting nothing more than to make all these torturing thoughts vanish. “You… You saw things that I just… I never wanted you to deal with-,”

“It’s over.” You took a deep breath. “I’m here, I’m safe, and you’re with me.”

Bucky closed his eyes as if preparing for something. “After what happened back there, do you even want me around anymore?”

Your jaw went slack at his question. Sure, there was absolutely no denying that the events of today scared you, most likely more than you realized. You had only seen Bucky that determined and violent in your nightmares so to see it just steps away was jarring. But you also knew nothing changed within him. He wasn’t a robot or anything. He wasn’t someone just taking commands. He had remorse. You certainly couldn’t say the same for who greeted you in your sleep. It may take you some time to adjust, sure, but you weren’t turning away. At least, you were going to try not to. Healing was just beginning.

“Of course, I do,” you said, raising your other hand to Bucky’s cheek. At first, he flinched but slowly he leaned into the touch, sighing like he was letting go of something. “Bucky, what happened back there… You had no choice. I don’t have to tell you that those were some very, very bad people. They had it coming and the fact you went to those lengths to save me is unbelievable.”

“I’d go to the ends of the Earth for my girl,” Bucky admitted.

You let out a weak giggle. “Thank you.” A pause. “May I ask how you figured out I was in trouble?”

Bucky smirked. “I had a nightmare.”

You raised your brows in surprise. “A nightmare?”

He nodded, “I started to feel weird after leaving for the mission like there was something I was missing. A little later on, I was taking a nap and you of course appeared but it was unlike any other dream I had ever had about you. It was… You were scared, deathly afraid of something, and then I saw what was going on. I practically watched it all play out from your apartment and on. It didn’t take too long to put everything together.”

You hmm’d. “Thank God for nightmares.”

Bucky chuckled and placed a light kiss on your forehead. “Thank God for nightmares,” he repeated in agreement.

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bangtanfancamp · 5 years ago

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Into the Garden (JJK)

∴ masterlist

∴ series masterlist (part one of 2 )

∴ pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader

∴ word count: 5k

∴ rating: pg-13

∴ genre: fluff, romance, strangers to lovers, dinner theater au? Lol

∴ warnings: none to speak of, eventual affection? sexual tension? Probable future make out sesh

∴ summary: It’s a Friday night out with your friends— a perfect opportunity to try out that mysterious new restaurant everybody’s talking about. Always game for new things and a good time, even you never expected to stumble upon the smart, incredibly handsome waiter you meet there who knows his flowers. Who knows where the night will take you now?

∴ vibey playlist that kept me company during writing

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“God, this place is gorgeous.” You gasped.

You felt yourself go still once you’d finally managed to push the heavy wooden doors open. Was it unreasonable to wish you lived in a restaurant if it looked like this? Because it was beautiful in here. Every corner was immaculately decorated- rich, emerald velvet in the waiting area, cognac wood floors, industrial light fixtures… each element carefully designed, but aged and warm, like maybe this place had been here forever, and you’d only just noticed it.

And the plants- there were plants everywhere, on every available surface. Shades of green wrapping and weaving around iron railing. Ivy crawling up the side of the exposed brick like nature was trying to take this luxurious place back for itself. You’d never seen anything quite like it.

This place was all anyone could talk about lately, but you’d never seen it first hand until tonight. It had been your coworker’s bright idea to get a bunch of the staff together and blow off some steam here this Friday night. She’d even wiggled her way into getting the company to pay for it by calling it a “team building experience,” a.k.a “let’s all get drunk together and moan about our problems on the boss’s dime.” You’d be skipping the alcohol tonight, but this place was a million years beyond your “guac at chipotle is a treat” personal budget and there was no way you were going to miss out on a free dinner here.

So far, no regrets as you wandered across the hardwood. You hadn’t even eaten any of the food yet, but it was already your new favorite place in the city on decor alone. And on top of that, you had something else to look forward to. Apparently, the hook here — not that it really needed one— was an upscale version of dinner and a mystery. You wondered how that was supposed to fit with this whole industrial utopia theme.

You hadn’t been to a restaurant that did a show with dinner since you saw Cinderella at a children’s dinner theater in eighth grade, but the shabby, primary colored castles of your memory clashed distinctly with the elegance of this place. The gaping imbalance made you chuckle. Sherlock dinner theater and artisanal hand glazed pottery seemed like an odd mix to you, but you were intrigued nonetheless, knowing you’d have fun whether the plot was brilliant or not.

After gawking an appropriate amount of time in the foyer, you realized you should probably check in for your group since you’d arrived first. Gliding through the Garden in search of the hostess booth, you found it hidden away beneath the shade of an almost prehistorically large fiddle leaf fig tree. You smiled up at the gargantuan plant, fingers tracing the edge of a leaf. If the millennial garden of Eden interior of the place hadn’t already been an indication, this alone reinforced what a miracle worker their main gardener must be.

Every fiddle leaf fig you’d ever owned had died many a gruesome death long before it ever even reached two feet, but this one almost brushed the exposed ceiling beams. You wished you could ask whoever was in charge here for some pointers, but they’d probably smell your plant mom failures on you from a mile away and decide not to waste their time. Plants just never seemed to like you back the way you loved them… oh well. That’s what plastic is for, you supposed.

Getting back to the task at hand, you leaned up on your toes to look for assistance, quickly noticing that the station was empty. Maybe they’re busy watering the crops, you chuckled to yourself wondering if this place really was pretentious enough to grow their own inventory-they certainly could- when you were suddenly greeted by the most stunningly handsome boy you’d ever seen.

“Hello, welcome to the Garden.” The living, breathing Adonis statue could speak apparently. You tried not to stare as he smiled back at you politely, his silky curls shagging about his face as he slid behind the hostess booth. Holy crap. Did they grow him in the back too?

He was beautiful- some undiscovered demigod with broad shoulders and a jawline so strong it could cut glass. He lifted his eyebrows pleasantly, waiting to assist. “I apologize for the wait—how may I be of service this evening?”

You couldn’t help the silly grin that spilled across your face when his wide chocolate eyes smiled your way.

“Um, Hi. I need a table for, lets see… 1,2,3,4...10 people I think?” You counted unashamedly on your fingers as the host’s lips quirked into a smile. “Oh! Actually, you know what? What am I doing—do you guys take reservations? My friend Beth might have called about us earlier?”

“Let me see…” The boy’s amused doe eyes drifted over a computer screen. You fiddled with the edges of a particularly plump succulent on the counter as you waited. “Here it is. Beth party of 10. Now usually when we have a group that big, we do offer the option of one of our private rooms. You guys would have your own separate narrative from whatever the main restaurant is doing….Would you be interested in that this evening?”

“Sure! Why not—that sounds amazing!” You answered, a bit too enthusiastically admittedly, but when his face lit up at your bubbliness, you found you couldn’t be bothered to feel embarrassed. Not when a boy who looked like that was looking at you that way, all soft around the edges. Will you be there? you wondered.

“Okay, then you’ll come right this way. Oh! And you’ll need this.” Dipping into a crystal bowl behind the counter, he fished out a crisp white piece of paper and slipped it into your hand, fingers brushing over yours as he did.

Something in your belly reacted sharply to the contact. Apparently, the electric crackle affected him too. His already round eyes widened, a nervous chuckle tumbling from his lips as your cheeks blossomed a warm, soft pink.

Suddenly, a ruckus erupted behind you, crashing into the tranquil silence. You turned over your shoulder to see your friends piling in the tall front door, laughing and smiling widely at you.

Tearing his eyes away from you with a self conscious gulp, the host cleared his throat before leading you all back past fountains, lush greenery and elaborate floral installations into yet another beautiful space. This room was just as intricate as the rest of the restaurant, with its warm terra cotta-colored walls dripping with ivy and orchids, lit with the dappled light of melting pillared candles piled atop the elaborate raw wood table spanning the length of the room.

As everyone happily clamored to find a seat along the banquet table, you noticed your friend, Erik, crashing along its opposite edge. Erik had been a football player in college, some defensive position you didn’t know the title of. He was a mammoth of a man, his blonde Nordic hair making him look like an off brand, out of shapeThor.

He paid little to no attention to where he threw his weight around like a puppy who didn’t yet know his size. So when he dropped himself onto the neatly slatted bench (gosh, every detail here was dripping in aesthetics) and promptly leaned against the wall, crushing the intricate orchid display, you couldn’t help but laugh. You heard the host’s strangled gasp and giggled at the beautiful boy's wide eyes as his horror-stricken face went pale across the room. Before he seemed to realize he was even doing it, his feet began to march across the floor to say something to your friend, until his politeness overtook him and he froze a few feet away. He grumbled to himself as your friend carelessly peeled himself off of the bench, annoyed complaining about something scratchy digging into his back. The host was positively fuming as irritation ticked in his jaw, but His big brown eyes betrayed his disappointment and downright bewilderment as the bedraggled orchids limped back into place.

“No.... They’re ruined. Now what am I supposed to display?” You heard him attempt to mutter under his breath, but his anger seemed to make his volume louder than intended. He was so flustered—it was oddly...kind of adorable. You couldn’t help but laugh. You knew your friend had meant no harm. He was a sweet guy, but generally oblivious, so things like this seemed to happen a lot. Chuckling under your breath, you couldn’t help but notice the strain in the host’s angular jawline, not to mention how good he looked with his eyebrows furrowed like that. Intense. It made you want to kiss the creases to relax him. Man, this guy was really getting to you...

Maybe it’s time to have some fun, you thought.

Leaning over the edge of the bench, you whispered surreptitiously, “Hey, maybe you should consider wheatgrass instead.” You sent a quick wink in the host’s direction, a thick cloud of giggles falling from your lips. Lashes fluttering , the poor guy seemed startled by your comment. He had been so wrapped up in blinders over his restaurant being ruined that he hadn’t realized anyone had been watching the entire interaction. For a quick second, embarrassment flashed over his features. The sudden chagrin on his face as he nervously ruffled his hair softened him. The Greek god of a man suddenly a soft, flustered boy. He looked so... sweet.

The whole scene gave you the oddest urge to pinch his cheeks and tell him how cute he was. But just as fast as it had appeared, the innocence in his wide eyes was gone, his composure swiftly resettling itself as his shoulders rolled down, his posture lifting him back up to full height. His confidence was back, and so was a lopsided smile that you decided you quite liked. “Might not be the worst idea.... certainly less overhead,” he sighed resignedly, hands hanging low on his hips as the tick in his jaw loosened, replaced instead by the beginning of a smirk.

“Much less upkeep. Less horizontal space. Equal level of pretension. I see no downsides,” you shrugged nonchalantly. You felt your own smile bloom wider the longer your gazes stayed fixed on each other. His eyes were dazzling- coffee brown and deep- as they glittered back at you. “I’ll look into it...might be a solid option. Have,” he hesitated. “Have you been here before? I don’t think I’ve seen you... I get the feeling I would have remembered you.” His face was so soft and unguarded, his pretty mouth just a bit too open as he searched his memory for a glimpse of you. You pulled your lip between your teeth as your smile threatened to grow.

“No,” you shook your head, hair bouncing around you. “It’s my first time here. First time for all of us actually. Hence, my friends lack of good graces with your horticultural displays.” you offered an apologetic shrug.

“May my orchids rest in peace,” he sighed with a shake of his head. “Not your fault though. You guys, uh, celebrating something?” He was suddenly too close for a stranger, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“Oh, no. We just work in that massive upstart down the block. Kept hearing about the place, and Instagram kept hacking our feeds with ads for it so we finally caved. Figured we’d try it out. ” You waved across the table gesturing to everyone. There were all so deep in their own side conversations that no one seemed to pay any mind to you lingering oddly with the wait staff. “Glad to see the marketing is working out,” he chuckled. “Well...if it’s your first time, then you’ll need a proper guide through the story.” A glint of mischief sparkled deep in his chocolate eyes, and you felt something effervescent glitter up your spine in excitement. “I suppose we will.” With a bow from his hip and a nod, he turned on his heel with no explanation, leaving you to smile down at your menu like an idiot in his absence. Trying to read was pointless honestly. The letters might as well have been in Arabic as they swam across the page- you weren’t processing anything. Far too lost in a dreamy eyed splendor over the boy you’d just met until a bony elbow nudged its way between your ribs. “What was THAT all about?” Eileen’s eyebrows bounced with curiosity. “ I don’t know.” You answered honestly as your head shook. At this point, you were smiling so much your cheeks were beginning to hurt. “But my God, isn’t he CUTE?” You hid behind your hands. “Cute??” Eileen shoved you in the shoulder. “He’s not a corgi, y/n. He’s a grown man.” She bit her lip. “A GORGEOUS, full grown man....did you see him when he walked away? God, what a view.” You pressed your forehead into her shoulder and whimpered, “I knowww. His smile, those thighs, my god...and his butt. Did you see it? It’s better than mine.” You both fell into a fit of giggles.

“All I know is that if you don’t give him your number then he’s definitely getting mine tonight. Or anything else he’d like for that matter.” Your jaw fell open at her brazenness. “Hey! slow your roll. You can’t call dibs before I’ve even gotten his name!” you laughed.

“Then you better work fast, babe. Cuz butts like that don’t stay single for long.” She tipped her head to the side matter of factly.

“Oh my gosh, shut up! You don’t know when he’ll come back. He might hear you.” You breathed.

“Let him. It’ll make my job easier.” She bit down seductively on her red straw. Swatting at her, you both giggled before back into the table’s office gossip.

Apparently, Elliot had shown up to the office wasted again today- either from getting trashed the night before or from getting sloshed the morning of, no one was quite sure at this point. Either way, everyone was annoyed as hell that he’d never get more than a slap on the wrist for it since his dad managed their branch. Nepotism still alive and well. Clearly.

Popping an entire potsticker in your mouth, your belly ached with laughter as Sean told you all how his assistant had accidentally walked in on two higher ups making out in the supply closet this morning and how traumatized the poor intern had been. He described in detail how the poor slob had still tried to get around them to get the extra printer paper, and what a mess the whole ordeal had been. He owed you a clean fifty bucks now.

With your keen eyes, you’d been the first person to be suspicious of them- you’d called it a solid month ago- and had put your money where your mouth was. You’d started the office pool that they were in fact a secret couple- a bet you’d clearly just won if Sean bleak expression was anything to go by. Lunch on him all week. Potstickers til i burst? Don’t mind if I do.

It had been a great evening, full of unwinding and bonding. So great, that you’d completely forgotten about the mystery element of the dinner. That is, until a crystalline voice spoke above you, snapping you to attention.

“Pardon me, everybody. But it’s time for the mystery of the evening to begin.”

Surprised, your eyes darted up to see the cute guy from earlier. He was standing right behind you. Your pulse spiked as he sent a smirk your way. What were you supposed to do with that? He was so close now that you could hear the fabric of his dress shirt rustle every time he shifted or gestured above you. With every movement, a burst of his scent surrounded you. It was something citrus, something fresh. A dizzy smile tugged at your lips as it enveloped you like a cloud. God, you wanted to bury your nose in it. You were such a sucker for a good smelling boy...

And this one was so in your personal space. Which should have been off putting, honestly. Especially since you’d barely known him for half an evening. It was a bold choice on his part, to get so close to you. It should have been a turn off. Should have. But it wasn’t. Instead, you found yourself almost vibrating with excitement at the proximity of him. Whatever this gravitational pull was around him, you were perfectly content to get pulled straight into it.

If you’d had the nerve to, he truly was close enough that if you tipped your body back just a few degrees you could’ve rested your head against his lean stomach if you’d wanted to… which, of course you did want to do… but you’d only just met him. So instead, you bit down to stifle your smile, eyes flicking over to Eileen who was just as giddy on your behalf.

God he’s so cute, you thought. Wait- is he still talking? Crap-focus, you scolded yourself, tuning back into his monologue.

“As everyone knows, we all have the same five senses. But what happens when we lose one? How does it affect our instincts? Our gut? How does it change the way we listen to each other?” he paced around the edges of the table, hands clasped behind his tailbone. It made his dress shirt bunch deliciously in all the right places, and you bit back a smile. It was getting harder and harder to hide your little infatuation.

“When each of you arrived,” he continued, “you were each given a character and a backstory- No one should know it but you- but only one of you received the card that said killer. Someone at this table has committed a murder, but who? Often, our eyes can deceive us, so as part of tonight’s story, your sight will be taken from you as you try to decipher the truth. Can you rely on your other senses, your hearing, your intuition to solve this case?” A few other waiters approached the table with baskets in hand before the room went dark- completely.

Not the “the lights are off but we can all still see” kind of dark. It was the “it's so black in here that you can feel it” kind of dark. The kind of complete nothingness you never get with the ambient glow of street lights and screens everywhere. It was heavy and consuming, the absoluteness of the suddenly inky black room.

Swirling your own fingers in front of your face, you saw absolutely nothing. Not even the glint of your own jewelry, and something fantastic bubbled up in you. This is going to be so fun. Your heart began to race in anticipation- you didn’t even know what for yet. You felt your knuckles wrap around the bench beneath you, bracing, waiting, holding your breath, wondering when the night would finally be-

Only to have your thoughts stop. Completely.

Each individual one of them halted in their tracks by the sudden contact of warm fingertips against your skin. The gentle press of a large set of hands melted into the tops of your shoulders, thumbs bracing on the back of your neck. It was him again, wasn’t it?

He squeezed once, tense and hesitant despite his obvious strength, like he wasn't sure touching you was the best idea, but he couldn’t back out now that he’d started. The delicacy of it left you buzzing. In the silence, the pads of his fingers sunk deeply into your skin, and your breath caught. You’d never been this grateful for off the shoulder clothing in your life.

“May I?” he asked, tone honeyed and sweet.

You realized he meant the blindfold you’d heard so much about before you came and nodded your head just once, tension sticking in your throat as you tried to swallow it down. It was only then that you realized he probably couldn’t see you in the darkness. You’d have to gather your wits enough to verbally respond. You hoped he wouldn’t catch the way the “yes” that left your lips was embarrassingly breathless.

You heard him hum in response, holding whatever was left of your breath as his fingertips slowly fell from the tops of your shoulders, dragging across the edges your sleeves like he was in no rush to let you go. It was a strange intimacy from a stranger, but to be honest, you didn’t want him to let go either.

Until, quick as a whisper, his warmth was gone, leaving you alone in the dark. The shift so abrupt that part of you wondered if you’d imagined the last thirty seconds. His lingering hands had fallen away so abruptly at the end. Where had he gone?

It all felt like a fever dream you’d cooked up, like your own subconscious was mocking you for wanting him so bad. For a second, you wondered if you should be concerned by how obviously attracted you were to him. Should you be ashamed by how quickly you welcomed his touch? By the way your traitorous body showed no intention of pushing him away? Maybe you should, but he didn’t give you the time to overthink it before he was beside you again.

“Jungkook.” He whispered, only loud enough for you to hear.

“What?” You breathed, face turning toward his sound in the blackness.

“That’s my name. Jungkook.” He repeated, his voice airy and soft. You hadn’t realized how beautiful his voice was until it was the only thing you had to focus on. You could feel that he was bent low, his chest just brushing the tops of your shoulders. You felt dizzy at the sensation of his warm breath ghosting over the shell of your ear as a cool satin ribbon was draped over your eyes.

“In case you were wondering.” He whispered, pulling the edges of the fabric into a soft bow as he dipped to the other side of your shoulders. “But I’ll also answer to ‘guy with the butt that’s better than yours’ if you prefer.” His breathy laugh filled your ears, and you could practically hear him smiling. “Oh god, you heard that?” the back of your hand smothered your mouth, a smile emerging even as you cringed.

“Oh absolutely. Acoustics are insane in this place. It was kind of nice though... I mean, how often do I get to hear such a pretty girl compliment me ?” You could feel the rush of blood practically crashing into your cheeks. You knew the whole world would see you blushing if the lights were on. “I’m out of witty comments for that one.” “Don’t smile. You’ll mess up the blindfold,” he warned, the endearing softness in his voice undermining his words. “I’ll try. Don’t think I can help it though.” A satisfied hum left Jungkook’s lips as he pulled away and went back to the task at hand.

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And just like that, the mystery began with Jungkook as the narrator and weaver of your tale.

Your group had been given a story set in feudal Japan. Clashing samurai, feuding houses, forbidden love- Your friends all got surprisingly into it, losing their normal voices into the adopted lilts and pitches of their newfound characters.

It really was incredible the nuances you caught when you focused on your hearing. Jin’s voice, for example, was far more nasal than you realized. He had a tendency to react dramatically any time someone pressed him for details- clearly signaling how close they were to the truth the more he tried to hide it. Lina’s expressionless monotone was nearly impossible to read on voice alone, but it made her all the more fun to try to figure out. Despite focusing on the story, you couldn’t help but notice that while Jungkook had the entire table to canvas as he narrated, he still stayed suspiciously close to your side the entire time- like he couldn’t help himself. His fingertips would brush the fabric of your blouse when he’d pass. His taut arms would graze the swing of your ponytail as he walked by. He had no mercy on the fragile hummingbird flitting with wild abandon in your chest at each of his actions. In fact, you could hear the distinct note of something that sounded an awful lot like laughter in his voice anytime he gave instructions to your character specifically. Smug son of a gun. Soon, the story unraveled as it was revealed that Jin had, in fact, been the murderer. He was jealous of Lina’s love for samurai Hoseok and had killed him in a drunken rage but tried to frame Bobby for the dishonorable act.

With the crime solved, the lights were turned back on, a fuzzy halo emerging around the edges of your vision as a staff member came behind each guest to remove their blindfold. You were unsurprised when you were met with a gentle waft of clean citrus as Jungkook appeared once again to help you with yours. The warm pads of his fingers grazed your cheeks when he removed the satin ribbon. It was so quick- it was so hard to tell if it had been on purpose- before his touch was gone again far too quickly for your liking. “I must say, you were particularly clever.” He offered softly as he stood behind you. You dropped your neck back to look up at him, eyes wide. “Anyone paying attention would have known that wasn’t Bobby’s blade work.” “Still, most people don’t catch it on their first time through the story.” He tipped his head matter of factly. “Maybe I just had a good guide,” You winked, tucking your chin back to normal when you saw a faint pink color his cheekbones. He cleared his throat before addressing the table. “You’ll find your individual checks have been placed in front of you, along with a complimentary dessert. Thank you for dining with us this evening. It has been our pleasure.”

He bowed at the waist as he gave his farewell, making his last words spoken dangerously close to your ear. Adrenaline spiked in your veins at his proximity for the thousandth time tonight. As he returned to full height, another man approached the table, this one taller, leaner than jungkook, with a smile so innocent and wide it could have belonged to a child.

“Good evening everyone! How was your experience with us tonight?” His voice. It boomed like a clap of thunder. It was oddly deep for someone who looked so young. Everyone at the table chattered with random superlatives about how amazing the night had been as the man's smile glowed brighter.

“I’m so glad to hear it!! You had a real treat tonight- guided by our finest story teller.” Pride swelling in his eyes, the man clapped an embarrassed Jungkook on the shoulder. “Such a shame it might be the last story he tells here.” The baritone lamented. “What am I supposed to do without my partner?” The man used his other hand to clutch at his chest dramatically, face scrunched in distress, as you felt your heart free fall into your shoes.

Last story? “Calm down, Taehyung. You make it sound like I’m dying.” Jungkook rolled his eyes and swatted at the man. “You might as well be!” Taehyung huffed. “He’s leaving us tomorrow to start his new life! Off galavanting in the mountains somewhere with flowers and goats. Leaving all his old, true friends behind.” He wrapped an arm around jungkook’s shoulder, dragging him against his will into a side hug jungkook vehemently tried to escape. “Quiet down, bro. You’re making a scene.” Jungkook balked, face pale at the unwanted attention.

He’s…. leaving? Your stomach took a swan dive. No. But I just met him. How... where was he going? Your eyes fell back to the table as you steadied yourself.

You’d been so excited about where this all might go. It was hard enough to accept that you’d already gotten this attached to him. Let alone invested enough to be this disappointed…..but, you’d felt something so strong around him. The kind of glittering spark you hadn’t felt with another person in a long time, if ever.

Every time his eyes had lingered on you or his body had brushed against yours, a supernova had ignited in your chest. You’d spent the whole night going mad with the electric possibility of him- just to what? Feel like a fool for being infatuated with a stranger? Look like the naive girl you were, pining over a daydream?

This was ridiculous. You shook your head at yourself. This boy didn’t owe you anything. He was a stranger two hours ago, he’d stay a stranger when you left twenty minutes from now. But no matter how you tried to convince yourself, your poor heart still felt sick about it all. He’d just seemed so— you don’t know, special. So magnetic. And You’d thought he’d felt the same pull bringing him to you too.

Because why else would he have flirted with you half the night? He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to lead you on if he knew it was going nowhere. An assumption you realized was a heck of a leap. You didn’t actually know anything about him, but somehow, something about that narrative just didn’t sit right with you. The look he’d had in his eyes each time he smiled at you tonight had seemed too sincere to be a lie. But from the way his loud friend was still talking, he made it sound like Jungkook was moving to the Alps.

So even if his sweet eyes had genuinely meant every smile tonight, was it really all for nothing? You knew the night was ending, and it was a long shot, but you’d really been holding out hope it might go somewhere beyond this. Apparently not. In an instant, he reappeared by your side, having broken free from the grip of his affectionate friend’s grasp. Jungkook dipped beside you once again as you stumbled to rearrange your now troubled features into something resembling disinterest.

“Hey, Sorry about that. But, I um, really do hope you have a great night. So your uh, your check is on the table.” His poise seemed a bit more rattled than before, but you were too glum to give it much notice.

You sent an out of focus glance in the ticket’s direction and nodded. He’d already told everyone that. Most of the table already had their debit cards out for their tickets. You didn’t know why he was bothering to mention it again when all you wanted to know was where he was going and if it was far.

“I um...didn’t get to catch your name earlier,” the smile he offered you was gentle, hopeful, as his wide brown eyes looked down at you. You felt yourself sigh withought meaning to. You’d have found the sheepish look in his eyes hopelessly adorable just a few minutes earlier, but now all it did was make your chest hurt. “Not a detail you need if you’re moving away though right?” You asked, a sadness creeping in your attempted smile. God, you weren’t fooling anyone. This was pathetic. His brows dipped at your response, confused by the shift in your demeanor. “I’m... I mean, i told you mine.” His gentle eyes tried to salvage the situation. The confidence he’d exuded all night was slipping away, a boyish vulnerability taking its place. There was no harm, you supposed. “Fair enough. It’s y/n.” you conceded. “Y/n.” He repeated, like he was trying to make the shape a new habit for his mouth. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

The smile you gave him back was a limp, pitiful thing, but it was the best you could give. Half an hour ago, you definitely didn’t think him calling you pretty would have made you so sad. Compliments didn’t usually send you into a craving for solitude and halo top ice cream, but this one certainly did.

“Well, y/n, I may not be as far away as you think. Have a good night.” And with that he was gone.

Bummed, you looked over your shoulder as he disappeared into the kitchen. “Shoot. Well, that was a fast track to nowhere,” you sighed to Eileen, slouching in your seat. “I know. Bummer. Seemed like he liked you too.” Eileen commiserated. “Right? So it wasn’t just me? You could tell too?” “Oh, he was totally obvious about it! He also gave you more ice cream than me. Shameless. Boy has no subtly.” You chuckled at her accusation, but sure enough, you did in fact have one scoop more ice cream in your jadeite bowl than the rest of your friends. This boy already knew the way to your heart.

“Still. Why act interested if you’re disappearing the next day?” You pouted. “Why show interest when he’s just a server you’ve never met before?” She asked pointedly, eyebrow arched as your eyes fell away. “People react when they feel something- and clearly you two were feeling something the entire night. His eyes didn’t leave you for a second....We don’t get to pick the timing of when we’re attracted to people, y/n. Nobody’s working with that kind of control.” Flopping onto her shoulder, you heaved a heavy sigh. “Again... you’re right. I just, I don’t know. There was just—something about him. He felt... special.” “He looked special in that outfit. Those buttons were crying.” She mockingly bit her lip as you swatted your napkin at her. “Eileen! Unhelpful! I’m aware.... I guess you just don’t always get to know where things could have gone.” You shrugged, wilting into her warmth. “I know, babe. Sorry.” She patted your head comfortingly. You turned to your ice cream to heal the wound, accepting that beautiful Jungkook would just be a passing meeting and a quick deadend to nowhere. After polishing off your dessert, you pulled out your cash to at least leave him the memory of a good tip when your eyes caught on scribbled handwriting in the top corner of your receipt. Hey, I don’t normally do something like this, but there’s a place around the corner that stays open super late. Meet me for crappy coffee + good conversation at 11? -jungkook xxx-xxx-xxxx You choked on nothing as you processed what was going on.

“Eileen! Eileen!!” You grabbed at her sleeve. “What?? What is it?! Calm down.” She pried your clutching hands off her cropped leather jacket, brushing off any damage you’d done.

“He gave me his number!” You nearly shouted.

“What?” She almost spat out her cocktail.

“He gave me his number!!” You waved the receipt wildly in her face. “He invited me to coffee and gave me his number!!!” You squealed, shrieking at an octave usually reserved for wild piglets. “Shut up! No way!!!” “Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh!” You rambled ecstatically. “But wait!” your face fell,“ we’re supposed to go out for drinks with everybody after.” “And? Is that a joke??? You see us every day! What are you doing talking to me?? Text him! Go meet your man, honey. I’ll cover for you.” She winked as she swung her purse over her shoulder. “Really?? I love you! I owe you!” You yelled as she made her way to the door. “Um, You really don’t, but I’ll never turn down a favor. Let me know how it goes. See you on Monday.” She waved back at you, flipping the platinum ends of her ebony hair over her shoulder. “Hey! Where’s y/n? Isn’t she coming with us,” Jin seemed to be the only one alarmed by your absence. “Nothing to worry your pretty little head about, dear. I’ll fill you in later.” She grabbed him by his shoulders and nudged him out the door frame. “Ooo, bulking up are we, Kim? Feeling solid these days.”

“Yes actually!” His face glowed. “I have been! But you know, muscle tone is 80% genetics anyway. You cant just make yourself handsome, you know.You have to be born this good looking to start with and work from there.”

She knew there was no quicker, sure fire way to get Jin off topic than to ask him about himself. Once that train had left the station, there was little hope if any of ever turning back.

Eileen really took one for the team there. “Call me” she mouthed back at you as they slipped off into the night. You chuckled to yourself at the scene, finally realizing the turn your own evening was about to take. You plugged his number into your phone and shot him a quick message. [10:35pm] Hey, how did you know I was always down for quality conversation? Moments later, your phone began to buzz. Jungkook [10:36pm] Just went with my gut ;)

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eerythingisshaka · 5 years ago

Text

The Bodyguard

[Jason Momoa x Reader]

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: no smut, but does discuss an attempted drugging

His fingers dig into your arm painfully as you try to release yourself from the stranger’s grasp.

“Fuck off and let go of me!” you yell at him as loud as you can but the club’s music drowns your voice out from others around you being able to hear your distress.

When he takes you past security up front, he gives them a smile that at first won you over.

“Can you believe chicks these days? Wanna party all night long when their kid is up waiting for them. Let’s go hun!” The brawny security guard looks from him to you suspiciously but lets you both pass without incident. Out on the street, you kick him in the knee, finally getting freedom as he bounces off rubbing his bruised joint.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he shouts at you with anger in his eyes.

You root around your clutch for your phone, shaking to open it up. “I’m not the one with the problem. I know you put something in my drink. I’m not stupid!”

This catches the attention of the security guard you passed in front of the club.

“Hey Carlos, come work the door, I have a disturbance to check out.” He walks up to your side. “Is he causing your problems, ma’am?”

You hold your phone to your ear waiting in 911 to pick up. “Yes! He is a fucking pervert who wants to fuck unconcious women!”

The guy looks nervous;y around him. “Hey, shut up! I don’t even know you for you to accuse me-”

“He bought me a drink and thought I wasn’t looking but something was floating in it when I almost took a sip. I gave it to the bartender and had them call the cops. Fuckface can’t stir, stupid bitch!”

The guy walks up to you pointing at your face. “You’re gonna quit fucking talking to me like that or-”

The security guard, lays out a long strong arm in front of you, cutting him off. “You wanna try that with me first man?”

He looks up at security with annoyance. “I’m not talking to you, George of the Jungle, I’m talking to this b-”

Just as 911 began to ask what was your emergency, security had him by his throat, walking him away from you.

“You talk a lot for a little guy. And I don’t have a lot of patience for talk. So since my shift is ending soon, I’d like to end it without incident. Do you wanna create one?”

Security drops him to the ground to writhe like a slug on salt.

You hang up on 911 and run up on the pervert, kicking him for good measure. “How you like not breathing when you want to BITCH! You’re a damn piece of shit, stay down!”

Security pulls you back gently but you rear back from his touch, causing him to retreat.

“I’m on your side. But you can’t beat his ass here, plus cops are on the way.”

On cue, you hear the whir of sirens far off, but getting louder by the second.

“Shit! I can’t get a ride in time before the cops get here.”

Security looks back at his buddy Carlos working the door and gives him a thumbs up, which he returns.

He looks back at you tentatively. “Feel free to say no but-”

“Can you give me a ride? Just to get me out of here before the cops get here.”

He blinks a couple times taken aback but mutters in agreement. You turn back to the pervert and kick him once more before running off ahead.

“Hey! My truck’s around back!” he yells after you.

Riding passenger to his pick up you sit closest to the window as possible, nearly facing him. He’s clearly unnerved as he drives, gripping the steering wheel tight. You notice the geometric tattoo poking from under his leather moto sleeve, snapshotting it in your memory. Brownish hair with some scarce light pieces grown naturally throughout. You lean over slightly and notice a scar in his brow that is a unique identifier-

“Could you stop looking at me like that?” he asks coarsely.

You squint at him suspiciously. “After the night I’ve had? It’s just a precaution.”

“You know where I work, they know me and that I’m with you. You have a paper trail, I wouldn’t risk shit like that dickhead back there.”

You raise your chin defensively. “So if I didn’t have a paper trail, you would consider it?”

“What?!” he looks at you incredulously.

You pop a finger in his face. “So you can take me home and just do whatever! They say the most likely serial killers are the good looking ones.”

He rolls his eyes. “A backhanded compliment, thanks. And you haven’t told me where you live yet. I’ve been driving for 15 minutes and you refuse to give it to me.”

You turn to face the road now. “I don’t want you to know where I live.”

“Trust me, I’d rather not either, but I’m trying to be nice here.”

“How about I go to yours, just for the night?”

You feel the truck jerk off the side of the road as he parks it abruptly. He turns to you, glaring with fire in his eyes. “You can catch a cab right here, I don’t have time for this.”

“No wait! I don’t mean like that! I just can’t go home! Please!” you say pleading with him.

“What do you mean you can’t?” he asks.

You fall back into your seat pitifully. “I dropped my keys back in the club...swinging my purse at the guy who spike my drink. I can’t call for a replacement until the morning...”

Security leans back, looking toward out his window you can’t read his expression but his body read tired as his broad shoulders melted down from their defensive mode.

He starts the truck back up. “Fine, but daylight is in four hours: you call a cab and you’re out of there.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “Thanks! I won’t impose on a thing. What’s your name by the way?”

He sits there quietly, streetlights rolling over his face ominously. “You need that for your police report?”

“Well maybe…”

“Come on!”

“No I mean with the guy spiking drinks back there, not you and what you’re possibly capable of but I’m not accusing you.”

“Jason,” he says. You share yours with a handshake.

You enter his apartment hesitantly. It has a rustic feel with a lot of old metal works decorations and natural wood furniture.

“You live alone?” you ask.

“Yes, so you can have the couch. Do you need anything before I break myself down for the night?”

You plop on the couch, taking off your shoes. “Got any bottled water?”

“Plastic is ruining the environment and its inhabitants.” He digs into the fridge and hands you a can. “Aluminum is much more sustainable.”

You open the can and take a sip. “Thanks but isn’t plastic recyclable?”

“Not nearly as much as aluminum. Now if you’ll excuse me…” He walks off to the back room as you settle into the sofa sipping your water. Your phone beeps warning you that it needs recharging. Your eyes catch a vacant cord in a corner outlet. Luckily it fits your phone as it beeps happily.

Sitting back down you finish your water and look around your surroundings.

“No TV?” you say, judging his choices. He probably has a big ego to match his huge stature.

You look through your phone a little bit to mindlessly scroll social media until you feel an urge to pee. Jason hasn’t come out of his room, he might be asleep. Not wanting to wake him, you tiptoe to find which door most likely led to the bathroom, turning a promising knob.

Opening the door, your nostrils are hit with a sweet smell of bath oils and the sight of a man reading in his bubble bath with pink scrunchies catches you off guard.

“What are you doing?!” he howls.

You can barely compute as you slowly smile at the picture in front of you. “Your pigtails are the cutest!”

“Get out!” he growls, adjusting the bubbles to ensure he is at least modest in front of you. You close the door and giggle to yourself until you remember your main goal.

“I’m sorry, but I have to pee!” You knock on the door so he knows you’re serious but you’re glad there’s no glass because you are still clearly amused. A big man in a bubble bath is just too rich.

“Give me a minute!” he says. You hear water sloshing around and silence until the door opens on you. Your face lands on his soft pink tshirt covering his firm chest.

“It’s all you,” he says in a monotone, letting you by as he made his way to his kitchen.

When you come back out, he is sitting with beer, looking up at you. “Want one?”

You shake your head. “I had enough to drink today.”

He takes a healthy glug from the stein. “Well, I haven’t started yet.”

You sit across from him, feeling awkward. He looks at you curiously. “So what happened with that guy anyway?”

“At the club? Just same old stuff. Guy says hi, gives a compliment, and offers a drink. He was a great conversationalist, just rattling on about what he does and how beautiful I am but then he tried to say he knew the owner and pointed him out to me. I looked behind me but I didn’t know what he looked like, so when I turned back to ask, he looked like he just moved and was posed unnaturally. I asked him what the owner looked like but he brushed off my question to raise his glass up with mine, cheersing to a good night, but this film was on top of my drink and all hell broke loose.”

“Fuck that scum,” he says, taking another drink.

“Exactly. So I hand it to the bartender and told them to save it and call 911. He may not have heard me but when the bartender didn’t dump it, he got pissed, grabbing my arm asking what I said.”

“Where was he taking you?” Jason asks.

You shrug. “I don’t even want to think about it, I have no idea but I wasn’t going to go no way. Thanks for stepping in when you did.”

Jason wipes his beard of the excess beer. “I’m just glad you spoke up and got attention on him. If I wasn’t on the clock, that guy would’ve been in the dumpster with the rest of the trash.”

You think back to the moment, getting dragged and the pain in your arm. You lift your arm and see some purpling form on your bicep and Jason notices.

“Let me get ice for that.” He makes an ice bag with a dishrag and loads it up with cubes. You lay your arm down on the table for him to place the ice on your inner arm.

“Hold it there. Does it still hurt?”

You shake your head. “But I’m sure in the morning it will.”

“Yeah that’s gonna be nasty, but the ice will lessen it.”

“Thanks again, for the help.”

“Please don’t mention it. I just wish there were less dipshits on the street messing unsuspecting people.”

You nod, and feel a yawn coming on. “I think it’s about time I try to catch some Zs. I have, what, 3 hours left?”

Jason puts his stein in the sink. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t work until night again so just rest. I was high strung back there when I said that.”

“I get it, but really, I’ll be out on time.” You get up, adjusting your dress and head for the couch.

“Do you want a shirt and shorts or something? You’ll be swimming in it but it has to be more comfortable than your night look.”

You mull it over. “Uh, a tshirt would be good.”

Jason goes back to his bedroom for a minute,coming out with a black Slayer tee.

He tells you good night, closing his bedroom door as you peel off the hot pink bandage dress that peels slowly off your body like a second skin. You feel like a new woman slipping on the tshirt, fitting you perfectly loose for comfort, smelling Jason’s musk embedded in its threads. You lay out on the couch with the ice under your arm as sleep swept you away.

---

You wake up slowly to the smell of food wafting in the air. You stretch, inhaling the heavenly smell, almost forgetting until you opened your eyes that the place you slept was not your own.

You wince at the awareness of your arm as you sit up and see your burly friend over the stove,

“Good morning! Breakfast is about ready,” he says in a jovial manner. You get up and take your phone off the charger, reading the time as 11:47 am.

“Shit! I overslept!” you say, gathering your dress and shoes. “I’ll give this shirt back. I need it for the ride back to my place.”

Jason looks disappointed as he lays out some eggs on a plate. “No, I said you didn’t have to worry about that! You need food, come on, eat.”

He sits down, shoveling a forkful into his mouth waving you over.

“It does...smell great.” He smiles, handing you a plate to help yourself to eggs, sausage and toast.

“I didn’t get this size by skipping meals, little lady. And breakfast is best after a night out.”

You reach over for a piece of toast but the ache of your arm holds you back. Jason takes your wrist gently, rolling up the shirt sleeve to study your bruise.

“Yeah, they look worse as they get better.” He gives it a gentle rub before returning to his plate. “So you survived the night?”

“Yeah, that is a good couch.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

You swallow some juice, taking a couple bites of egg. “Sorry again for imposing. I’ll blame my previous drink on that boldness. I don’t do this often.”

He shrugs. “I don’t bring strange women home after work either, just so you know.”

You smile. “Well luckily I’m not strange.”

His eyes widen as he locks his jaw.

“You think I’m strange?!”

He lifts his juice glass. “I meant that I don’t shit where I sleep. I respect boundaries.”

You feel slightly disappointed with this information. “Oh, well thank you. I am glad I got a glimpse of the man behind the leather and toughness. Bubbles and pigtails, I just can’t!”

“And I’m not apologizing for it lady, so tough shit! A man can enjoy the finer things in life.”

“You bet your ass you can. You earned it.”

You fill up no breakfast enough to get you going and get ready to go.

“I’m ordering my car now...coming in 2 minutes.”

Jason stands at his front door with you, hands dug in his black and white horizontal striped pants. “Ok, I’ll just see you off.”

“You don’t have to. You’ve already done a lot,” you assure him.

Jason shakes his head. “I want to.”

Silence passes through the two of you as you wait. Seeing him in the daylight for the first time, he doesn’t look so serial killer scary as you once thought. His wavy brown hair looks heavenly and less wild man. Even the scar above his eye has character.

“How’d you get that?” You point at his face.

“What?” he asks, rubbing his face. “Is there some egg on my face?”

“No, here.” You step up to him and reach his brow carefully. “Right there.”

The softness of his brow welcomed your touch as you lightly stroked the area. Jason’s eyes glisten innocently at you, never once flinching under your hand. He doesn’t say anything, and you’re glad. You willed him in your mind to take hold of your hips and pull you to him-

Beep Beep

Your notification ring tolls that your ride has arrived. You look at your phone and into the parking lot.

“I guess that’s my cue,” you say in a monotone, walking off slowly.

“Hey wait!” he calls after you.

You turn to him quickly. “Yeah?”

His mouth hangs on some words he wants to say but blurts out, “Make sure to keep some ice on that arm.”

You nod as your heart falls.

“And if you happen to collect numbers, any chance you would want mine?”

You bite your lip running up to him to slap his arm. “You think you are so sly, don’t you?”

“Like the Family Stone. And I need to contact you for my shirt back, so don’t think you’re getting away that easy.”

Masterlist

Tag

@chaneajoyyy

#jason momoa x reader #shakafic

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anxiouslymalicious · 6 years ago

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Losers Club Plus One Part 5

A Richie Tozier x daughter!reader series

To read the previous part, click here and for the complete Masterlist, go here.

A/N: I am so sorry this has once more taken so fucking long but things happened and then more things happened and then word and my computer crashed and I had to rewrite like a lot so here we are.

Anyway, thank you guys so much for all the sweet comments and messages and asks, I appreciate them all so much, I appreciate you guys so much.

This has a word count of 3,000 ish words just for your information and there are descriptions of anxiety, however there is also some fluff in here that’ll hopefully make up for the little kind of angsty parts.

Enjoy!

A pregnant, solemn silence took over the losers as they held the shower caps in hand, thoughts of Stan flooding each of them uncontrollably. Memories of the first time they admired Ben’s hard work that he told them was nothing. Remembering Richie and Eddie fighting over the hammock, even the smoke-hole ritual didn’t seem nearly as far away anymore.

Ben was sitting with Y/N, animatedly telling her about how much effort he had put into the small club house. Her eyes travelled over the construction, a wondrous gaze raking over the dusty items, the faded posters, the carvings and blemishes that the place had endured over the decades.

“This is fucking incredible.” She breathed. “You’re a genius”

Ben chuckled, tearing his own eyes away from what he had created at such a young age to look at the girl next to him. He, like many of the losers, hadn’t really taken the time to look at her. She didn’t look much like Richie, possibly she took after her mother more look-wise, but the way she talked, the way she acted, the swearing, the messy hair, were so much like her father, it was almost scary. Like a female version of teenager Richie had gotten lost in Derry ages ago, but never aged. Ben’s eyes fell onto a spider in the young girl’s hair, an involuntary grin spreading on his lips.

“What’s up Haystack?” asked Richie suddenly, effectively breaking the comfortable silence.

“Stan really was ahead of his time.” Ben replied, slowly trying to plug the spider away from the mop of hair on the girl. The girl shuddered when she spotted just what he was doing as the other losers chuckled. Those weren’t the happy, almost childlike chuckles Y/N had heard more times than not coming from the members. No. Those sounded broken and, although not watery, they were still thick with unshed tears. Tears they didn’t want to cry. Not again. Not out of disappointment or disrespect towards the man they grew up with, quite the opposite really. Remembering who he was as a kid also made each of them remember what a kind and compassionate soul Stan was. Smart, often acting more like an adult than a child, but the one thing that was crucial about Stanley was that he had reasons for doing what he did. Reasons he carefully thought about. So, although no one dared to speak, they knew that Stan had carefully thought about this and had a reason for doing what he did. They just couldn’t figure out said reason.

“Hey Mike, what are we doing here?” Richie spoke up, finally, diverting the attention, changing the painful topic to another dreadful one. One that scared each of them more than they would like to admit.

“The ritual. It requires a sacrifice.”

“As a sacrifice we can take Eddie.” Richie dryly said, motioning towards the smaller man who now looked at him in a state of shock and something Y/N would almost identify as fear.

“Wait what?” Eddie asked. As Ben, under his breath, mumbled ‘Peep-peep, Richie.’

“You’re little. You fit on a barbeque.” The taller man replied, making his daughter snort in shock. Ben ruffled up her hair at that, a smile on his lips at the sincere reaction of the teen.

“I’m average height in most countries.” Eddie waved Richie off, slightly offended at the comment. “Besides, why are we not sacrificing Y/N? She’s literally my height!”

“Because I still have hopes of growing taller, unlike you.” Y/N fought back, an incredulous smile on her face, trying to hinder the giggles bubbling up inside her from surfacing.

“It’s not that kind of a s-s-sacrifice.” Bill interrupted the bickering, much more serious than Y/N, Eddie and Richie had previously been.

“Your past is buried. But you have to dig it up. Piece by piece. And these pieces, the artefacts, that’s why we’re here. That’s what we have to sacrifice. And since Stan isn’t here to find his, I think that we should all be here together to find his artefact.” Said Mike, his voice dark, rough. Y/N knew that it was taking a toll on everyone to be back. How bad it was the first time around, she still didn’t know, but she was curious to find out.

Her eyes travelled to Eddie, shower cap in hand, then to the tin can on the ground, next to his feet. She got up from her seat next to Ben and moved to sit next to Eddie instead, following his thought, and fishing one of the caps out of the can.

Both of them pulled the caps onto their heads. They shared a glance. Then, their eyes landed on Mike.

“I think we just did that.” Replied Eddie and Y/N nodded along.

One after another, the losers plus one climbed out of the club house, Y/N being the last, gratefully taking Mike’s hand in support. Hastily, she took a few deep breaths, her airways silently thanking her for finally breathing in fresh, clean air. It wasn’t bad, but she had to admit that breathing in the dusty and musty air was getting quite exhausting and she rarely appreciated the cool air in a forest as much as she did in that moment.

“Okay so where do we find our artefacts?” Eddie asked, nervously pacing over the soft soil. Mike took another second, making sure that the girl he had pulled up was alright on her own before considering Eddie’s anxious figure.

“Yeah, I gotta be honest, man,” Richie started, scratching the back of his head, his lips pressed into a tight line, “all due respect, this is fucking stupid, alright? Why do we need tokens, alright? We remember everything. Saving Bev, defeating IT, I mean we’re caught up.”

“That’s not everything.” Mike tried to calm Richie, get him to admit that he didn’t know as much as he liked to say. There were still things Richie, like the other losers, didn’t want to remember. “We fought. But what happened after that? Before the house at Neibolt?”

Everyone was quiet for a moment. Y/N, not knowing how to feel, stood behind Mike, watching the scene unfold. The group looked dumbfounded for a moment, not even remembering the fight. Slowly, carefully, she strolled a bit away from the group, not wanting to interfere with a moment like that, with a moment as important as that one would be. Once more, she felt like she didn’t belong and she almost started regretting even suggesting as much as following her father to Derry. But what choice did she have? It was in those moments that she felt pitiful for herself, for the lack of a mother, a family. Of course, she was incredibly thankful for her father. She loved Richie dearly, but there were certain moments when she really needed a female adult in her life. Like when she had gotten her first period. Oh lord, how uncomfortable and awkward she felt that day. And how much it hurt to know that her mother had just left her, not wanted her any longer when she was just a baby.

How much it hurt knowing that she didn’t have grandparents like the other kids in class.

How weird she felt when the only family pictures she could bring to primary school while other kids brought pictures of themselves with their grandparents, with their aunts and uncles, cousins, siblings, whatever kind of family they had. She also remembered feeling shy in front of her father that day as she had to ask him about his parents for a homework assignment.

How lost she felt when Richie took her shopping for bras and other clothing. Richie did offer to ask one of his female friends to take her or ask her friends’ mothers to help her out, but Y/N refused. She would have felt even weirder going shopping for underwear with people she barely knew. Hell, she didn’t even want to take her friends in fear of being embarrassed.

The girl felt anxiety building up in her veins, her chest growing tighter, troubling her breathing. With nervous eyes, she searched for her father, who was vigorously shaking his head.

“I’m not letting her alone. I’m going to take my daughter with me.” Richie told Mike before stomping over to her, gently grasping her arms and making her sit down on a tree stump. Richie had noticed that his daughter was breathing unevenly, erratically. He was torn between staying and making a point to his friends and taking his daughter to a quiet place, away from all the trouble that caused her anxiety to skyrocket. The look she gave him was one he understood perfectly though. She didn’t want them to be alone.

“I gotta say… Statistically speaking, if you look at survival scenarios, we’d do much better as a group.” Eddie joined into the conversation, almost anxiously uttering his opinion. From the corner of his eye, he could see Y/N grasping her father’s arm tightly, eyes wide like a young doe, as she was fighting herself. None of the Losers dared to get close to her though, too afraid that Richie might lash out at them.

“Yes. Splitting up would be dumb, man. We gotta go together, alright? We were together that summer, right?” Richie looked to his friends in hopes of them agreeing with him, getting Mike to see how stupid his idea was. Eddie nodded in agreement and Richie got his hopes up. Until Bill spoke up.

“N-no. Not that w-whole s-summer.” And with that, they remembered the fight. They remembered how they physically had to separate Richie and Bill so they wouldn’t smash each other’s heads in, how they spent time separated from each other, each of them too stubborn to face what, deep down, each of them knew would be necessary.

“What happened?” asked Y/N, voice shaky, eyes innocently looking up at her father, then the other Losers. She had managed to calm down enough to speak, but she knew that she was still on the verge of breaking down. No one answered, each of them just let their gaze wander over the greens surrounding them. The trees started losing their leaves and they instead graced the ground, covering the soil in endless shades of red, yellow, orange and even a few brown spots.

“I’ll bring you back to the hotel, then get that stupid token.” Richie finally said, reaching out a hand to help his daughter, who suddenly seemed a lot smaller than she really was, up. Gratefully, she grasped it before sliding her hand up, trying to find some steadiness and comfort in grasping her father’s arm until they were out of what she felt was a danger zone.

The forest made her feel alerted. Something could be lurking behind every tree.

Behind every bush.

Behind every tree stump.

There was room to flee, yes, but at what cost? If they ran and were to be separated, she would easily fall victim to whatever IT was. Y/N didn’t know her way around and Richie wasn’t sure he still knew the place like he did when he was younger and spent almost every day of a whole summer lurking in the shadows, hiding away from the Bowers gang, making plans of how to kill IT and just enjoying the warmth of the summer that took not only his innocence, but also his friends’.

“I’ll join you.” Eddie spoke up, stepping closer to the leaving pair as each of the Losers awoke from their little trance, daring to move now that Richie accepted that he had to find his token on his own. Neither Richie nor Y/N said anything, instead, they started walking, hoping that they were somewhat on the track they had taken earlier to get to the clubhouse. Once they had reached the edge of the Barrens, however, the Losers wordlessly split up and went their own ways. Where to exactly, no one knew. They went wherever their feet, their subconscious brought them. Maybe it wasn’t even that. Maybe something bigger than each of them was leading them, something that they knew existed, but they couldn’t remember yet. It was irking them. Teasing them. Lost somewhere in the back of their minds with the rest of their memories of the last summer. About to burst through that thin layer of blissful ignorance, it just needed a little push to break through to the surface.

All of the Losers gave in and started their little journey through the place they grew up in. Well, everyone except for Richie, Eddie and Y/N.

“Eds, I appreciate your concern, but Mike said that we all have to do this on our own. You should get a head start, we all know your little legs slow you down.” Richie said, sluggishly joking around. He didn’t have the energy to make fun of his friend now. Not now that his heart was beating restlessly like a kid on Christmas morning and he knew that he had to leave his daughter, the only family he had left, to fend for herself.

“Don’t call me that. I want to be there for you two. She’s your daughter, that makes her a Loser by blood. Besides, I just wanna make sure that you don’t up and leave with her.” Eddie smiled at the pair and, with that, Y/N felt how her chest filled with warmth. She hadn’t ever known a family bigger than her and her father, but knowing that at least one more person, if not the whole Losers Club was right beside her, made her feel like she belonged. Like she had an identity, was a person important to something bigger than being your average high school student.

Y/N gave the man a warm, genuine smile. “I wouldn’t let him leave.”

“I know, little one. I know.” Eddie smiled back at her, laying a hand on her shoulder, not sure how affectionate he could be with the girl without it becoming weird. After all, she was almost like a new addition to the mismatched family of losers and he didn’t want her to feel left out just as much as he didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable or suffocated by the affection shown.

“Watch it, I’m going to outgrow you. There is still hope for me.” She smirked as they slowly started making their way to the hotel. Richie scoffed, hands in the pockets of his jacket.

“Don’t get your hopes up too high, squirt. I don’t think you’ve grown in the past six months and- “

“Fuck off, dad.”

“Don’t tell me to fuck off, without this smart mouth here, you wouldn’t exist.” Richie reminded both her and Eddie, making the pair cringe.

“Beep-Beep, Richie.” Eddie said as he felt himself shudder against his will. Only moments later, a harsh wind blew their way, sweeping the hair from their faces, creating ripples of shivers on their bodies.

“I think I’m gonna leave you guys alone. It’s not far anymore and I feel like I have to go elsewhere.” Eddie said, awkwardly mustering the father-daughter-duo.

“You’re not gonna make sure that I won’t run off with her?” Richie asked, confused at Eddie’s sudden change of plans.

“I trust you, Richie.” Eddie replied, lips twitching up into a playful yet shy smile. Y/N couldn’t hold back her grin at the gentle exchange between the men and watched happily as Richie stepped closer to the smaller, insecurity-ridden man, wrapping his arms around him in an almost therapeutic hug. Obviously, they hoped to see each other again later that day, but were they sure they actually would?

“Come here, squirt. Group hug.” Richie motioned for her, lifting one of his arms to give the girl room as Eddie nodded encouragingly. Joyfully, she complied and wrapped her arms around the two men, as far as they would reach.

“Stay safe.” Y/N whispered as she felt a sudden pull in her chest. It was unexpected, hit her out of nowhere and coating her in an uncomfortable cold. The uncertainty of the situation, the dangers connected to each of them going their own way finally caught up to her and, as it seemed, not only her. As the men heard the raw concern in her voice, they hugged her just a little closer and a little tighter in hopes of consoling her in some way.

“Don’t worry, I will. I’ll see you later in the library and all of us will be fine, alright?” Eddie replied, knowing that he wasn’t speaking the truth. He knew that splitting up was the most dangerous thing they could do. He knew that they might not all return to the library that day. He knew that IT was after them – and IT was seeking revenge. But he felt that, in that situation, it would be more important sugar-coating the whole situation and not worrying her too much rather than telling her about the actual risks of the situation.

“You two stay safe. I’ll be waiting for you.” Eddie told them as he pulled out of the comfort of their arms, leaving to go his own way, not knowing which horrors would be waiting for him as he would be looking for a simple artefact to sacrifice. Richie smiled, nodding a little, then laid a hand on his daughter’s back, pushing her forward. Not before she could wave to Eddie one last time though. Eddie smiled and nodded in reply.

The Tozier-Duo walked in silence for a bit. Until Y/N decided that she couldn’t stand the tension for another moment and decided to speak up with a question that she had been dying to ask for a bit now.

“What is it with you and Eddie, Dad? Have you always been this close?”

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

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kyberphilosopher · 5 years ago

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Chapter Two

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Talik and I head out while the rest of the group keeps our ship safe. I can’t help but feel a deep despise for them landing so far away, because walking in sand is extraordinarily frustrating and terrible. I swear, it gets heavier to pick my foot up with each step.

The Twi’Lek is far more inclined than I am, occasionally kicking some of the golden dust my way on purpose. The specs stay glued to my dark boots, making them look messy and sloppy. I don’t say anything though. I’m not much of a talker anyways, and Talik is babbling on about something.

I just keep my eyes down, away from the light of the setting, tangerine colored sun and orange cast across the world. It’s not that I particularly mind the scenery, but it’s simply not Ilum. It’s all warm tones and bland tans, when the place I consider my home is frost white and blue stars. Though, besides that, I would feel better walking alone here.

After an eternity, we reach the ship. Up close, it looks even more detailed and destroyed. Giant wires and panels hang from above. I can see the engines filled with glass and rubble. I can’t help but feel excited and adventurous, and then I try to remember I’m staring at someone’s grave.

The Venator is split in half, so when we look up we can see the main deck and Bridge, filled with rows of computers and desks. The wall to get inside is too flat and tall to climb, and Talik pulls out a grappling hook. She throws the hook up once, but it doesn’t catch on anything. She throws it the second time a little bit harder, and it latches easy enough. Giving it a few tugs for support, she turns to me with a flash of a smile.

“Ladies first,” she smirks, her hot pink lips grinning. I watch her heave herself into position, and begin to climb. Once she’s up, she signals me to follow and I do so, thankful for my gloves protecting me from rope burn.

By the time I’ve reached the top, my forehead and underarms are dabbed with sweat. I’ve always had more difficult with things that require arm strength, to be honest with you. I’m better with my legs and abdomen, and even then I wouldn’t consider myself muscularly gifted or anything.

Every time I see the ship from a different perspective, I swear it gets more detailed. Two screens are still twinkling and beeping, while the rest are completely dead. It’s clear this is where the command center was, up in the Bridge, and I have no doubt some Jedi stood where we stand and oversaw some epic space battle. Towards the front is what appears to be a skeleton in a tan uniform, but I turn away to focus to the other half of the ship. That’s where the money will be.

I don’t mean to brag, but I’m pretty indifferent to death at this point.

“So,” Talik starts, looking around with her hands on her hips. “You’re the scrapper. You think there’s really anything of worth in here?”

“If there is,” I say, “It’s going to be down there.” I point to the other half of the ship, which is completely open and in decay. You can see the thrusters and the engines, and the bones of the technology that actually powered this thing. I’m big enough to admit that ships like these are big pieces of junk, and every time I see one I just remember all the callouses I’ve gotten from taking them apart in the rain. However, taking ships apart and getting callouses from it has showed me the beauty in the math and science that goes into all this. I appreciate it.

I start towards the right, to the edge of the wall we climbed up. I can see the sand below us in the gap, and beyond that, the other side half of the ship. The imagination in me goes wild with all the possibilities that lie in that metal landscape. It’s almost like I’m staring into the beyond.

Observing my surroundings, I see a long, metal beam that stretches across about seventy-five percent of the gap. It breaks off a while into it, but it’s enough to jump from and get to the other side.

My boots clang against the floor, then against the beam. Steady and slowly, I keep poised on my toes to avoid pressing my full weight against the unstable structure. It’s lucky I’m not afraid of heights.

I jump to the other side a little less gracefully than I would’ve liked, but I think that might’ve been a good thing, looking back on it. Not that it would’ve ended up mattering.

“Alright,” I say, looking back at the Twi’Lek. “Your turn.”

“Oh goodie. Into the ghost ship we go,” Talik mutters.

Once in the other half of the ship, we decide to start on the floor we are currently on rather than working from the bottom up. Talik goes to the right, while I take the left. I tell her to keep whatever she finds that’s shiny and I’ll tell her if it’s worth anything.

The skeleton of this floor seems to have been as a kind of living space. I see multiple rooms through dusty glass that look like sparring or training rooms, and down some of the hallways there are rooms with bunk beds and little nick-nacks. As I walk through, squeezing through some of the barely opened doors, I try to piece together a story.

During the Clone Wars, the ship was used by the Republic and was home to some Jedi and their padawan. The training rooms were used by the Jedi, padawan, and clones alike to hone their skills. When Order Sixty-Six came through, the Clones turned on the crew and the Jedi, and the ship crashed on the closest planet. The padawan either made it out in pods or died- that I can’t yet determine. No doubt, there are other ships with a story like this one. I just wonder how many.

In one of the training rooms, there’s a floor above with a glass panel for observation. I found some valuable pieces from the control panel in there and the escape pod thrusters. I count all the escape pods to be in order, meaning no one made it off the ship alive. The padawan probably died protecting their masters or all huddled together.

It’s inside one of these rooms that I find something haunting.

I don’t like the Clones. I just can’t stand the thought of them. Every time I see something that reminds me of the soldiers, I remember how they pointed their blasters at me. My blood starts thumping in my ears with red, hot fire, and I’m sucked back into the memory of my first real kill.

It’s not that I feel bad about killing that Clone. I don’t. But everything that happened in that moment haunts me. It haunts my waking, and sleeping existences.

So, you can imagine how my heart stopped, if it was even still beating, when I saw the helmet of a Republic servant on the floor.

I drop to my knees, my eyes glued to the outline of the object. I have to squint from the lack of lights across the area, but the stark white color is unmistakable. Dusty, riddled with dents and bruises and scars. There’s dried flecks of brown blood staining it.

I pick it up into my hands, feeling the weight of it. My thumb runs over the helmet, clearing a swipe of grime away in a way that would look sentimental to anyone else. I wonder what happened to this one, and I feel almost sad for a moment. To be honest with you, I can’t remember the last time I felt sad. I guess this is the closest in years.

After my eyes run over the piece of armor, taking in the story and imagining the face under it, I throw it back onto the floor. I don’t want to touch anything in here much longer. Least of all, something that belongs to the Clones.

I leave the room quickly and briskly.

Down a hallway across from the escape pods I come across a bridge and a room with a large metal column. A few lights on the column flicker when my boots clang across the bridge, but I decide they’re not salvageable. Instead I find my way to another bridge, but the middle section has long since broken off.

It’s too big for any normal person to jump. I consider giving it up for a moment, but then decide that it’s ‘what the hell’ anyway. I take a few steps back, lean on my back right leg, and sprint across the bridge. My toes point up, and I spring into the air. Flipping once, twice before landing perfectly on my feet and jogging around the corner. If I had a master, I bet they would’ve just said something about how my form was sloppy or the force was very strong with me today. Ugh. Just the thought makes me want to strangle myself.

I ‘round the corner and ignore the glint I see from behind a vent as I pass. Glint?

“Don’t you go that way!”

Again, this is one of the times where I should’ve just ignored something.

I stop. Who said that? I mean, there have been times where I could’ve sworn I was going crazy, but I’ve never heard actual voices in my head. I know it’s not Talik, and it definitely wasn’t myself. Something tells me there’s no one else scrapping inside this Venator either. So… what is this?

I turn around, hearing the voice from behind me. It’s a woman’s. It’s older than my own. It’s a voice I don’t recognize, yet it bounces around in my skull.

“Get back here!”

“MASTER!”

A shiver runs down my spine and I narrow my eyes at the vent. Two voices now- one young and one older. The younger, a boy. Cautiously, I take a step forward, remembering what Talik said about this place being haunted.

Now, I’m not one for ghost stories either. But this is… a little off. In my book, at least.

“Master please,” the younger voice sobs in my head. Yes, it’s definitely coming from the vent. I take another step toward it, and the sobbing fades away until there is silence. I slide the pack from my shoulder and dig around for the screwdriver I know I shoved in here. Aha- found it.

I crouch on my knees and begin twisting out the screws from the corners of the vent. I can definitely see something behind the slats besides strange red light now. The final screw comes loose, and I slowly remove the cover and place it down next to me.

In the vent is a silver colored cylinder, maybe the length of my forearm. The emitter is sleek and simple, a little clunky but not too bad. The switch is nothing but a small button and the rest of the it is covered in a simple metal and matching pommel. A lightsaber.

The sobbing starts up again, louder this time. “Master… I won’t leave you…”

“You must padawan. They must never find you. You must hide yourself in the force.”

“Master… please don’t leave me… Master?”

Words from a not so distant time bounce around in my head as my right hand slowly stretches to touch it. The voices get louder, more focused- and my hand slides around the hilt and they stop. I am left alone in the quiet once more.

So… the ship is under attack during Order Sixty-Six, and the padawan is caught running around by his master. She is injured and gives him final words of wisdom before she dies, though he refuses to leave her. He hides his lightsaber in a vent and runs to the escape pods, though apparently, he never made it. He must’ve been shot down by the Clones before he could get there. He just didn’t hide himself well enough in the force I suppose.

What a shitty joke. Whatever, I’ll keep it in.

My thumb glides over the weapon, feeling all the little divots and scratches embedded within. He must’ve been clumsy to get it so scratched up like this.

Why did the saber call my name? If it believes I am its owner, it is mistaken. Its owner was killed three years ago, and I, somehow, am still very much alive. I’m no Jedi. I’m just a force sensitive. Honestly, I don’t care about the good or bad side of the force. At the end of the day, what matters to me is where the force will take me. To put it simply, there is no good or evil. There is only the air that binds us all together, whether we are decent or bad or living or dying.

The Jedi believe that the path of anger and fear is the path to the Dark Side, but people can do great things even with anger in their hearts. Fear is within everyone- no amount of the fate or destiny will change that.

I stand, still studying the lightsaber. Then I decide to try something.

I position my feet apart, and hold my left hand out. Pressing the switch button, the lightsaber comes to life. It extends in a green glow and the quiet hum dies out with the beating of my heart. While I feel no connection with this saber, I feel it as part of me. I feel it as the Force all around me. I feel it as the Force within me.

Closing my eyes, I try to lose focus on the… on the everything. Losing focus on the Force, is how you focus on the Force. It isn’t just a tangible thing that you can grab and see, it’s something you have to feel like a rhythm. Sometimes it’s fast and choppy and urgent, and other times it’s slow and soulful and overly sweet. Whether it’s violent and urgent, or slow and waiting, it is balanced to each force user’s agenda, I think.

I’ve never cared about my balance.

I take a few steps forward- one, two three- and stop. One more step and I fall to my death. I pick my left leg straight up without bending it, slowly but surely feeling it stretch before twisting my body into the air and having nothing on the ground to support me. My legs go into a split and one lands on the edge smoothly by my tip toes, holding me from falling to my sure death.

I turn around now, eyes still shut tight. The lightsaber is raised in front of me again, this time with both hands wrapped around the hilt. I jab it straight forward, whirl my body 360 degrees and thrust it out again. The movement clears the air in front of me, and I find myself continuing to move despite my original move being completed. I twirl into the air once more, bringing the blade down against the nothingness of the empty void once before positioning my body into a straight line with the saber over my head. I land on my toes silently, raining the saber in an overhead strike across something that makes a sizzling noise, and whirl around to point in the face of my intruder.

Opening my eyes, I am met with Talik’s wide eyes staring into mine with fear.

The lightsaber casts a green light across her face, light that she is afraid of. I can see in her smokey, seductive features that she is shocked and appalled, but more scared than anything else.

This is how the force users are more powerful than the common people- it doesn’t matter how good their intentions may be, one wrong move and they are deadly to everyone.

It’s nightfall by the time we head back to the ship. Talik didn’t actually find anything good, but I felt a little guilty about scaring her, so I told her she had basically gathered a fortune.

She doesn’t kick sand at me this time. While I’m grateful for it, I know it’s more out of that anguish she feels in her stomach than simply not being in the mood.

Nobody in the troupe knows that I’m a force user. When I escaped from Ilum, I promised myself that if I wanted to survive, I really had to keep everything to myself. Luckily, living outside the knowledge of the Republic to begin with helped a lot. There were no records that I even existed, so no one came after me. I don’t have to bother with fake names or backstories- it’s not like I lie. If someone asks about my past, I tell them I used to be a scrapper on Bracca. That’s not a lie. Does it leave out the truth? Yes, most of it. But it’s still the truth. And it’s not like other bounty hunters have never lied in their lives! See, I’m one of the good ones.

Another lie.

I told Talik I found the lightsaber and wanted to try it out, though whether she actually believed that or not is always up for debate. I can sense the anguish inside of her- some anger bubbling within as well. But she doesn’t seem to suspect me as a Jedi or former Padawan, and I won’t take the chance of putting that idea into her head. Instead, I opt to tread through the sand silently with her.

In my gut, something tells that something is wrong. I don’t know if it’s the anxiety of possibly losing someone I consider myself close to, or the knowledge that she’s totally calling bantha shit on me, but something feels off. The closer we get to the ship, the more intense the feeling becomes. Normally I can read what my gut is trying to say very well, but now it’s being awfully ambiguous and coy.

“Are you going to keep the lightsaber?” Talik cuts through the silence.

Now, choose your words very carefully, Keres. “Could be useful for the parts.”

Silence, silence.

“Have you ever seen a Jedi?”

Carefully, now. Careful.

“No. I didn’t grow up under Republic law.”

“They’re monsters,” Talik seethes.

‘I know’, I want to say in turn, but I can’t. I decide to just leave it, because I can feel the rage growing in the pit of her slim tummy. “Alright,” I say instead, quietly.

Talik scoffs, and this is what pisses me off. If there’s one thing in the galaxy that really grinds my gears, it’s passive aggressiveness. Honestly, I’d rather someone just be straight aggressive.

I stop in my tracks trying to quiet the angry spark in my chest. “Are you pissed off at me or something?”

Talik turns back to face me, her lekku whipping around. Something flashes in her eyes besides that spark of mischievousness. “Or something? You could’ve gotten us killed, you piece of shit.”

“Not even close,” I say calmly, because I know that staying cool and collected in an argument will always let you win. Plus, it pisses the other party off even more, and that’s one of the great joys of living.

“Oh, fuck you,” she hisses.

My mouth and throat are starting to feel dry. I would gulp that terrible drink she gave me yesterday right now if I could.

“Your life isn’t a toy, and yet when you held that thing you danced around like it was all nothing more than a fucking game! Lightsabers are stupid pieces of dung that bring nothing but pain to everybody in the area.”

“Like you’ve never taken a risk in your fucking life,” I say, a little louder than I meant to. “All you do is-”

“No- a lightsaber isn’t a risk- it’s a death sentence, Keres. You hear me? A-”

Talik stops. I feel it too. A large shadow looms across the moon, moving both fast and slow in rhythm with our fear. Both our eyes are fixated on the ship. It covers up the stars and flashes red as it passes by and lands next to our own heap of wings and metal.

Oh, that can’t be good.

Talik and I start sprinting towards the ship as fast as we can in the sand. Even though it might look like nothing, it’s always something. It’s an Imperial ship. We just both know the ship that’s landed next to it is not friendly. I can see a figure emerge from our ship- Mur- and another figure groggily stumbling behind-Kip.

“What the kriff is that?!” Talik screams over her heavy breaths.

“I don’t know!” I tell her. My cool demeanor has all but faded away, eaten up by the sand that seems to eat up my speed and make my thighs feel like they’re burning.

“Now what the hell-”

BOOM.

A shot from the enemy ship hits ours clean in the side. It erupts in a cloud of orange heat and sends shards and pieces flying to the air. I am thrown back from the sheer impact of the explosion, sinking into the sand beneath me as my ears start to ring louder and sharper. I can see Talik run past me, not surprisingly considering she was farther behind me during the run. She must’ve missed being knocked down. God, what about Kip and Mur? What about K-19 and Jarvers?

They were still inside weren’t they?

I force myself to sit up, my abdomen howling in pain where a large bruise will surely form. If I don’t get internal bleeding from this, then I need to force myself to reach my crew. I can see now however that outside the enemy ship, Stormtroopers have gathered in their own little army.

“We have learned that a dangerous devotee of the treasonous Jedi Order is among you,” says a voice through a megaphone. Honestly, my vision is a bit blurry, and my ears are ringing too hard to be sure of his words. “Turn this criminal in or face the consequences.”

Maker, how? I’ve been as careful as can be! Someone must have seen me in the Venator, but the only person there was Talik. Even then, she didn’t know. So, how did this happen?

I can make out blurry bits and pieces of the scene that was our ship. Mur is standing, but his gun is now out too. His armor looks a bit burnt. Kip is beside him, slumped over on the ground, but not dead. The ship is on fire, with burning rubble sprawled across the landscape. Smoke joins the air in black puffs of poison. I can’t see K-19 or Jarvers anywhere, but I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

“We have no such criminal here!” Mur roars back. “We are simple traveling merchants- nothing more, nothing less!”

There is a scoff into the megaphone. “Merchants? You’re awfully well armored for a merchant.” I know Mur well enough to tell the man is squaring his jaw in annoyance at that. “Hand over the traitor and we will be on our way.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you. We don’t have any traitor.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” replies the man with the megaphone.

Is he going to leave us alone then? No, of course not. He lowers the object and gives a nod to the trooper next to him. The trooper fires a shot right into Mur’s chest, through his armor and watches as he drops to the ground quicker than I ever thought he would.

“NO!” I scream out, the oxygen leaving my body making my head hurt with dizziness.

From the ramp to the ground, a figure appears- Jarvers! - wielding a gun and pointing it at the trooper. He shoots the Imperial slave down and aims it at the one beside him next. On the officer’s signal, half the troopers fire on Jarvers, and the other half is coming right for me.

Oh no, no, no, no, no, no.

Their ship fires another shot at our own, and I can just see Jarvers being hit twice before being engulfed in flames. Our ship crumbles in on itself this time, and I think I’m the one screaming but it’s not me, it’s Kip. Several troopers are grabbing him, kicking and screaming, and hauling him onto their ship. Ah god- K-19 is gone too.

I need to get up.

Frantically, I scramble to my feet despite my ringing ears and snatch the lightsaber off of my belt. I see no sign of Talik, but I do see about five troopers coming my way, accompanied by a very grouchy looking man in dull colored uniform. He must be the one with the megaphone.

I ignite the saber and hold it in front of me defensively, the reverse grip coming to mind immediately and naturally. The man in uniform stops and puts his hands behind his back, wording something to himself I don’t frankly care to listen to.

The first trooper runs at me full speed and attempts to hit me with the blunt end of his rifle, but I evade and swipe the lightsaber at his legs. He falls to the ground screaming, and I stab my weapon into his chest and through his useless armor. I quickly pull it out the ready myself for the next attack- blasts from the next trooper. If I angle my blade correctly, the shots bounce off the saber and hit a trooper behind the one that fired it- two down.

One of the remaining three is running faster than the others, and I throw my hand out to stop him. Immediately, the Force rushes through my veins faster than blood and he drops his weapon in favor of gripping his neck. I hold him up in the air, deciding I can block with one hand on the saber. Number four shoots a few times before he gets too close for my liking, so I throw the trooper in the force choke on top of him and they collide with thud.

Now, where is number five? Ah, you’re behind me. How clever of you.

I spin around and hold out my hand, and the shot is frozen in midair not a foot from my face. Instead, I twist my fingers, wrapping them around the shot to throw back to the trooper he shot them. My hand makes a tight fist, and the beam of light goes backwards and into him instead of me.

Five troopers down- one dull dressed man to go.

The air is both quiet and violent, between us. Most people would call what I just did ‘serial killing’. Other people would label it self-defense. This guy would name is treason.

“Yeah,” says, bringing his wrist to his lips. “We need backup.” Then he turns on his heel and starts to walk away, like this was some kind of audition.

The Jedi would tell you to let him go- to spare his life. Killing him would not make me feel better and his life is not mine to take. The Sith would stab him in the back right here, right now. And I’m sorry if you’re big on forgiveness here, but I’m not. The dark side is your friend in anger- I promise you.

Red fire is quick to rush through my veins like rage. I feel like a volcano of everything in the galaxy. To be honest, it feels good.

I throw my lightsaber out without really thinking about it, letting my anger take over. Sure enough, it spins around him, and he stops. The lightsaber returns to my awaiting hand like a boomerang, and then his torso falls clean off his body and his legs fold in on themselves.

His ship, however, is now up in the air and about to jump into hyperspace.

My Jedi reflexes make it easy to throw my hand out in a snap. The heap of Imperial junk stops, then begins twirling and divebombing towards the ground at the same time. I don’t know if I want to destroy it or not, but a gust of wind comes, and I’m made aware of my tear stained cheeks and dry throat. I can see Kip’s face from the glass windows on the side, and though it pains me to do it, I drop my hand and let the ship free. It jumps into hyperspace immediately, leaving me alone until the reinforcements came.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars fandom #story #chapter 2 #jedi fallen order #fanfiction #gray jedi #lightsaber #jakku #empire #tie fighter #star wars story #new story

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mathewmurdocks · 5 years ago

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Tag Game: Dig a Little Deeper

tagged by @impractical-matters 🥰

do you prefer writing with a black pen or a blue pen? black pen

would you prefer to live in the country or in the city? this is hard. i really like both. they have significantly different feels but i love both of them.

if you could learn a new skill, what would it be? god, i could list a shit ton

do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? sweeeeeet teaaaaaa

what was your favorite book as a child? because of winn-dixie

do you prefer baths or showers? showers

if you could be a mythical creature, which one would you be? bro, idfk. i wanted to be a mermaid forever, but maybe like a sorcerer or some shit idk.

paper or electronic books? certain books need to be paper, but electronic is more convenient.

what is your favorite item of clothing? sweatshirt

do you like your name? yeah, its fine lol would you like to change it? i used to when i was younger but its just a name i guess. i wouldn’t even know what to change it to.

who is a mentor to you? idk, i’ve had people help me in my life but never one person over a long period of time. can i say myself? idk if that makes sense but it’s my answer.

would you like to be famous? yes and no. i always wanted to be an actor and/or writer but never the celebrity side of it. just known so that my work is known and appreciated.

are you a restless sleeper? Y E S. i have stories...insane ones. who the fuck moves the whole ass bed or punches the wall in their sleep? ME wtf

do you consider yourself to be a romantic person? i can be, but it’s not a constant state

which element best represents you? sometimes i’m water and sometimes i’m fire which is actually pretty accurate considering the walking paradox i am

who do you want to be closer to? plenty of people. well, i guess everyone cause im not entirely close with anyone. no one really knows me or wants to know me. might be my fault, might not. idk

do you miss someone at the moment? my grandparents and i always have this nagging feeling like im missing someone but i don’t know who they are.

tell us about an early childhood memory. pretending to fall asleep on a car ride home so my dad would carry me inside and to my bed while holding onto my special blanket with my name on it.

what is the strangest thing you have eaten? idfk. maybe sand or dirt? im a pretty picky eater so i don’t try a lot of things.

what are you most thankful for? that i have things others don’t and may never get. i have food, clothes, a home, and other luxuries some people can’t afford.

do you like spicy food? N O

have you ever met someone famous? yeah, but nobody too famous. i met a bunch of rock/screamo bands (bless the fall, bmth, mayday parade, we the kings, 3OH!3, we came as romans, of mice and men, crown the empire, the devil wears prada-a couple of the band memebers actually took me to their merch tent and gave me water when i almost passed out from a heat stroke-, pierce the veil, echosmith, a couple others but i can’t recall), some popular christian artists, luke benward, ezra miller, and shailene woodley. i feel like i’ve met others but can’t think of them 🤷🏻‍♀️

do you keep a diary or journal? i used to. i had accumulated like 100 over the years and i still have some of them. i don’t write in one anymore, but sometimes if i’ll vent by writing a note in my phone or something just so i can release somehow.

do you prefer to use pen or pencil? pen

what is your star sign? aquaruis

do you like your cereal crunchy or soggy? crunchy

what would you want your legacy to be? that i was a good person who tried and cared

do you like reading? yes, but its really hard with my adhd

how do you show someone you love them? acts. i do things for them by going above and beyond.

do you like ice in your drinks? only at restaurants or fountain drinks

what are you afraid of? being alone and unwanted

what is your favorite scent? idk, but i don’t like strong or floral scents. anything calm and natural

do you address older people by their name or surname? depends on who they are. the older i get the less i do it i think

if money was not a factor, how would you live your life? i would live simply and comfortably. nothing too extravagant. i mean, there are some things i would go all out on, like a car but having a home thats nice and big enough for me, not like a mansion or anything. i’d love to travel too, but not site see but to live in a place for like a year or two and experience it.

do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? ocean

what would you do if you found $50 in the ground? unless i knew or saw who dropped it, just pocket it cause what else are you gonna do?

have you ever seen a shooting star? did you make a wish? yes and yes

what is one thing you would want to teach your children? to be accepting and open minded.

if you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? i already have some and want a bunch more

what can you hear now? music from my headphone in my left ear and my mom typing on her computer in my right ear

where do you feel the safest? in my room with music in my headphones when its dark

what is one thing you want to overcome/conquer? my depression, anxiety, paranoia, and dependency on others.

if you could travel back to any era, what would it be? roman empire

what is your most used emoji? 😂

describe yourself using one word. paradox

what do you regret the most? i don’t know if i really have any significant regrets. anything worth regretting would change who i am and i like who i am for the most part.

last movie you saw? spenser confidential

last tv show you watched? hunters. wait, thats a lie. the librarians but im rewatching it with my mom

invent a word and its meaning. uhm, idk. i’ve done this before but i can’t remember any of them.

if you wanna do this feel free!

#tag games

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wiseabsol · 6 years ago

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20 Mewtwo Fanfics Recs

Since I’ve been getting more Mewtwo asks recently, I thought I would make a post to promote some of the Mewtwo fics that have caught my eye over the years. Here is a round-up of the ones that were the most memorable and influential to me when I was growing up, as well as some that look promising for other fans to check out!

MEMORABLE FICS:

1. Damaged by Cheshire Kat24

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8906040/1/Damaged

Summary: Living life to its fullest is never easy. A lesson Mewtwo learns the hard way after sustaining an injury that even his abilities cannot heal without help. With his new friends, he embarks on a journey that will define not only his place in the world, but that of his entire species.

My thoughts: While I never managed to read the entire story, this is a classic and was probably the first long, multi-chapter story with Mewtwo as the lead.

2. Shadows Like You by cosmicmewtwo

Link: Not available, though you can hit her up on Tumblr for the file.

Summary: Driven by his hunger for power, Giovanni creates three new Mewtwos. The clones seem to be under control...but for how long? And how will Mewtwo himself be affected?

My thoughts: This was incredibly influential to my writing, being a huge part of the inspiration behind “TPRS.” The Mewthrees introduced here were great and I checked every day for updates until this fic was complete. As a humorous aside, when I was a wee lass with barely any fic to my name, I sent cosmicmewtwo a message asking if I could use Mewthree characters in my own story, without realizing that cosmicmewtwo didn’t own that concept. She, bless her heart, confusedly told me to go ahead with my story and supported some of my earliest fics.

3. Anomaly by Dark Magician Girl Aeris

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3173119/1/Anomaly

Summary: When Mewtwo erased his memory from the minds of Team Rocket, he overlooked the computers they used in studying him. Now a second member of the race has been created by even more unorthodox means than the first. And boy, is she mad!

My thoughts: Aeris is excellent at writing Mewtwo, to the point where this is probably the most canon-compliant depiction of him that I’ve come across. This adventure story is also well-written and has a lot of feel-good moments. I wish that she’d managed to finish it, but what she has, along with the connected one-shots, is worth digging into.

4. The Sword and Shield Series by Kayasuri-n

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3535877/1/Sword-and-Shield

Summary: Detective Brenda Johnson was looking for something suspicious when she entered the lab, not a connection between Team Rocket and gym leader Giovanni Rocketto. She certainly wasn’t expecting Mewtwo. Rated M for Murder and other subjects.

My thoughts: So if you’re looking for a super fun murder mystery ride, this one is for you! I still desperately want to see what the remake would look like. That said, there are several entries in the old series, all of which are great.

5. More Than Just Shadow by Kirlien

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3602934/1/More-Than-Just-Shadow

Summary: Amy was sitting quietly on the doublebed, watching over the wounded Pokémon. “Mewtwo…What are you?…Who are you?” she whispered faintly, her fingers brushing against his cheek slightly in a soothing motion.

My thoughts: I remember this fic for how it captured the golden feeling of innocence in the Pokemon franchise. While dark things were happening in this story, there was a sense of warmth and compassion that I’ve always admired. This is another one that I wish had been finished, but what is here is worth digging into.

6. Between Two Worlds by Leonardo Mystic

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/505048/1/Between-Two-Worlds

Summary: Ki is a teenage girl with special powers. Who one day accidentally discovers the Team Rocket project of Mewtwo.

My thoughts: This was one of the first Mewtwo fics I ever read and was the most memorable in the romance category. I’d call it one of the classics and an interesting rewrite of the original movie.

7. Forgotten by Melora Maxwell

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/926885/1/Forgotten

Summary: The humans have a most strange saying. Curiosity killed the cat. I suppose in my case, it would be curiosity killed the clone. For it is what I am.

My thoughts: This one was responsible for the genesis of “Angelic Shadows.” It’s angsty and, despite being lean in the way of descriptions, it has a strong emotional impact. It’s a shame that it never got an ending, because it seems like it was within a few chapters of being complete. Even so, if you like gritty, this is a good one to look into.

8. Eclipsed by Meriah

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4468231/1/Eclipsed

Summary: A young woman named Sutichay carries Arei, a miraculous child, whose birth will bring about a religious conflict. Later in the chaos, Arei is made the priestess of Mewtwo, and her growing attraction to him stirs the anger of Sabrina, his wife.

My thoughts: While this fic only has a few chapters, the premise is imagination, the writing is lovely, and it deserved more attention than it received. This was also the inspiration for my story “Hollow.” When Meriah discarded the original prologue for “Eclipsed,” she allowed me to use it—and the character Arei—as a jumping off point for my own story. The result was two very different tales with similar thematic cores.

9. The Incomplete Soul Saga by Miyuutsuu

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/888889/Miyuutsuu

Summary: What is my true purpose in life?

My thoughts: If you’re looking for more grit, we have this odd series by Miyuutsuu, who wrote his stories with the Rule of Cool. Want Mewtwo to have a sword? An angsty romance with a gym leader? Possibly some loss of limbs? Then here you go! It’s a dark action/adventure story with a different flavor than anything else on this list.

10. Of Moonlight Shadows and Echoes Past by ZeoViolet

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/620186/1/Of-Moonlight-Shadows-and-Echoes-Past

Summary: A Psychic teenager named Sharie, daughter of one of Mewtwo’s creators, finds a baby Mewtwo Giovanni forgot about…and eventually, runs into Mewtwo himself.

My thoughts: This was my favorite Mewtwo fic and one that I still think of fondly. The writing is lush, the premise is solid, and I definitely wanted to see where it would have gone. It’s another classic of the fandom.

11. If You Let Me by Byoshi

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4129309/1/If-You-Let-Me

Summary: Every Pokemon Smasher must have a master, and the rule is no different for Mewtwo. A tug-of-war begins between Peach and Ganondorf, conflicted but united in their attempt to use Mewtwo to overthrow Master Hand.

My thoughts: I don’t have much to say about this one, other than I really enjoyed it, found the premise intriguing, and wished I could have seen more of the central relationship in it. Sadly, like many of these entries, it was discontinued.

PROMISING FICS:

These are fics that I haven’t actually read, but appear to have pull in the fandom and have definitely had a lot of hard work put into them.

12. Mute, Too by FalconPain

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3931388/1/Mute-Too

Summary: After losing a battle to the dark Pokémon Darkrai, Mewtwo awakens to find that he no longer has his psychic abilities. No longer able to float, read minds, or even talk to humans or Pokémon, he must rebuild his life. But how much of this can he take?

13. Forsaken by lilpurplebird

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5842142/1/Forsaken

Summary: Being a Legendary isn’t always a good thing—they realized that too late when the world came to an end. Mercifully, they were given another chance, but at a cost: They had agreed in a previous life to become mortal should they have failed to uphold their duties. Unbeknownst to them, however, there is a dark power lying in wait, targeting Mew and Mewtwo to do its dirty work…

14. Crossing of the Paths by MMMAJ Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/1252581/1/Crossing-of-the-Paths

Summary: Mewtwo can no longer stand living with humans, so he creates a dimensional portal and randomly wanders the web of infinite universes. This is the tale of the places he sees and the people he meets.

15. Lines in the Sand by Shinymonkey8

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6847646/1/Lines-in-the-Sand

Summary: After finally escaping from Giovanni, Mewtwo has a chance to live his life free, and sadly alone… But when fate leads him to something he would have never expected, a female of his own species, his life is turned upside-down….

16. Human, Monster, Hybrid Series by TheFrogFromHell

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3082844/1/Human

Summary: When Mewtwo lured six trainers into his trap on New Island, he’d planned to begin his reign of terror on the human world. He hadn’t planned on being nearly destroyed by the battle that ensued, or on being nursed back to health by a human—a member of the species he’d despised enough to want to eradicate from the earth. Now, Mewtwo is torn between his hatred for his creators, and the new, mysterious emotions he feels for Misty, the human that saved his life. One again, his true purpose is in question: will he still choose to destroy the world, or will these unfamiliar insights change the way Mewtwo views humans, pokémon, and even himself.

17. From Dark To Light by Whozawhatcha

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7659746/1/From-Dark-To-Light

Summary: Mewtwo falls for a Gardevoir, but hesitates to reveal any of his past to her, considering the circumstances. However, his past and Team Rocket do catch up to him, and how will they manage? And with strife with this Gardevoir’s mother, how will they continue to be together? What are her true motives for keeping her daughter from this mysterious pokemon?

18. The Mewblade Series by Vaporeon Lugia Krabby

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2967855/1/Her-Beginning

Summary: Welcome to the real complexity of the Pokemon World. Here we experience the full extent of this world alongside Mewblade, a Mewthree. This prologue introduces Mewblade, following the beginnings of Mewtwo. This opens a larger plot, full of depth and death.

Note: While this isn’t a Mewtwo-centric fic, it has been a prominent work in the fandom for ages.

SOME CAUTIOUS SMUT RECS:

So looking up Mewtwo smut can be dicey, since many of the writers of said smut tend to prefer dub-con or non-con scenes, with Mewtwo being a dominant alpha male/sexually-aggressive character. This can be triggering for some readers. The following two stories are not exactly exceptions to that pattern (well, “The Mewtwo File” is, but I have different qualms about it), but the romance in them helps to mellow them out.

19. The Mewtwo File by Alisonven

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/4200365/1/The-Mewtwo-File

Summary: This is the story of the young clone Mewtwo and Aiko, his only human friend, the daughter of his creator.

My thoughts: This is a well-written story and has some good Mewtwo/Ai content in it, albeit features an AU version of them. That said, I have qualms about the sex in here, thanks to the difference between Mewtwo’s and Aiko’s psychological maturities. Aiko is clearly an adult, while Mewtwo reads more like a teenager. Some readers were fine with that; I felt squicked. There is also a casual use of sexual assault in a later chapter, so be aware of that going into this.

20. Primial Instinct by Sonic Sunshine

Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3486169/1/Primial-Instinct

Summary: Mewtwo tells us the story of how he found and nearly lost love through his eyes. His journey of discovery is one filled with dilemmas, and even the most powerful Pokemon is helpless to stop it. Mewtwo x Lucario.

My thoughts: There are also casual uses of sexual assault in this, including from Mewtwo, which I wasn’t keen on. That being said, this is well-written and the central relationship is interesting, so who knows, it might scratch the yaoi itch for those of you who love the genre.

#Mewtwo #fanfiction recommendation #Pokemon

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redhoodieone · 6 years ago

Text

Here with You

A/N: Hi everyone! This is my first requested fluffy fic from @yeetthatpussy. Thank you so much for the idea! This was fun and a big change for me since all I do is write smut and nasty things hahaha. Also, I want to point out I did not give Bruce an age or the reader, since I believe readers should imagine Bruce and themselves the way they want. I personally imagine Bruce like how he was in the animated movie, “Justice League War” since I happened to be watching that particular movie a while ago (because some of you might imagine Ben Affleck, Christian Bale, or the new Robert Pattinson). So other than that enjoy the story!

@randomdcfangirl @jasonredtoddhood @lady-of-the-abyss @psychovigilantewrites Enjoy this my friends.

Warnings: Language and just pure pink, yummy fluffy cotton candy!

It became a habit; a tradition really, when Bruce and I would have free time to hang out. Every Friday night is our “friend date time”, the title came from Bruce, when he realized over the past two months that I’m the first female in his life who has remained by his side and hasn’t put up with his bullshit.

True, women have come and gone throughout his life, specifically Selina Kyle. I’m no stranger to her, since she has played a pretty big part in Bruce’s life. Although she was always civil to me, I admit, I couldn’t help but feel envious of her beauty and body.

I sometimes wonder why Bruce permanently let her go.

I consider myself average. Maybe not overly beautiful like supermodels, but I’ve been told by family and friends I’m awfully pretty, sweet, funny, and kind. I’m about average height, and I admit I do have feminine curves. But overall, I’ve learned to love myself, and I’ve also had my fair share of ex-boyfriends and dates.

But none of my relationships have lasted more than three months. Considering my anxiety and what my doctor has described as PTSD from the eight year mental and physical abuse from my alcoholic father and uncle, my past boyfriends left me because I’m a nutcase (they really didn’t know how to help me or understand my past and current issues). Let’s just say I’m too much to handle when I’m alone or in a too comfortable environment.

And my latest ex-boyfriend Josh (who was a sweetheart, but I broke up with him because I just couldn’t be in another relationship at that moment) has been hinting to get back together with me for some time. But after I realized I’m never going to be able to move on from my past, I accept the fact that I should be alone and stay alone.

Because at least I would never betray or hurt myself, I believe.

But here I am. I’m being escorted to our usual table at one of Bruce’s restaurants. The waiter smiles once we meet up with Bruce at our table.

Knowing Bruce for a few years has given me reason maybe some men aren’t so bad. The media and tabloids have always painted him as a man-whore and spoiled rich boy, but after witnessing the doofus trip over his own shoes at work, (I happened to be at Wayne Enterprises for an interview with him, as I am a journalist) I realized he was exactly like everyone else.

Clumsy, foolish, and funny.

Bruce stands to greet me, while looking extremely handsome in black suit. His hair is nicely combed, and his grin is his usual smirk. His blue eyes brighten the room from its golden décor.

“Y/N, you look beautiful,” Bruce compliments me, with a kiss to the cheek.

It’s true. I feel more confident tonight since I’m wearing my favorite short black Gucci dress. I decided to curl my hair a bit and wear little makeup since I try very hard to look more natural to love myself more.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Bruce,” I respond politely. I sit down, and he pushes my chair in. As he takes his seat, the waiter quickly brings our appetizers of loaded potato skins and mozzarella cheese sticks and marinara sauce. “Didn’t you want to stay home and order pizza and watch a movie?”

“We did that last week. I figured...why not treat my favorite girl to a fancy dinner so we can talk shit about the rich people around us while we pig out on our favorite food?” Bruce answers, and gives me a soft smile.

“I guess you have a point since food is always a way to win me over,” I chuckle and then raise an eyebrow at him. “Did you just say I’m your favorite girl?”

“Well, you are Y/N. I mean, you gave me a chance to show you the real me. You didn’t let the media and tabloids change your mind about me. You know me better than most people think they do. Hell, you’ve even been there for me during the anniversary of my parents’ deaths. You’ve even seen me in my darkest times, and not once did you leave me or try to change who I am,” Bruce confesses softly. It sounds as if he wants to continue on with his confession, but he stops himself. He ends up smirking at me. “Anyways, is Josh still bothering you so you can take him back?”

“No, I mean…I haven’t heard from him today. What about Selina?” I tease him back.

“I haven’t spoken to her in four months. But I guess I wouldn’t know if she’s called the manor considering you take up most of my time anyways. I swear, the more we hang out with each other, the more we become like a married couple.”

“A married couple?” I repeat.

“Yes, since we’re always together and you know me better than any other woman. Hell, I don’t think I even allow most women to know certain details about my parents’ deaths or my sons. I have to protect so much of my life, but with you, I just found out I want to protect you as well,” Bruce explains.

I’m stunned to hear this right now. Of course, I know about Bruce’s parents’ deaths. I even know about his sons: Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian, too.

The sweet, handsome charming Dick Grayson.

The tough, strong and huggable teddy bear man Jason Todd.

The smart, wise, and computer genius Tim Drake.

And of course, the small, mature, handsome Damian Wayne, Bruce’s miniature version of him.

I knew Dick, Jason, and Tim were Bruce’s adopted sons (and he loves and worries about them so much) and I’ve even come to love every one of them, especially Damian. Bruce had told me Damian’s mother had left him with Bruce, and even though Damian had been arrogant, rude, and sometimes defensive, he’s come to respect me and even likes me hanging around the manor as long as I don’t steal his father most of the time.

And being close to all of them, I see Bruce has made a wonderful family, and I envy almost everything about that.

I even know Alfred. He’s a one real son of a bitch who doesn’t put up with Bruce either.

But the way Bruce is speaking of me kindly is starting to freak me out. I was never one to receive compliments or kindness before.

I decide to change the subject quickly. We both serve ourselves our favorite appetizers and dig in.

“So, what are your sons doing tonight? Causing trouble or just lounging around the manor?” I ask, with a small smile.

But Bruce seems to not realize what I did; unless he’s hiding it.

“Dick is probably out with Barbara. And I believe Jason, Tim, and Damian are bothering Alfred for their usual nighttime snacks,” Bruce replies, and then exhales heavily. “Y/N...I-I really need to talk to you and I just need you to listen.”

“Bruce...” I warn him. My heart already aches because I’ve been keeping a secret of my own and I finally realize what frightens me.

Bruce.

Bruce terrifies me.

Why?

Because I’m in love with him.

My mind flashes back to the memories of when Bruce tripped, and how everyone chucked at the Prince of Gotham, and how I helped him with a small smile on my face, because he took my breath away with his natural charm and handsome good looks. And when he showed up at my apartment with pizza and horror movies because I was too sick to leave and go out into the chilly rainstorm.

Or how when my younger sister got married, Bruce offered to be my “date” since he knew I couldn’t find a date in time. But he also showered the bride and groom with gifts and surprised my sister and my new brother-in-law with an amazing already paid honeymoon to Paris and Italy for an entire week! The whole night we spent dancing together, my head rested against his chest, and then I suddenly felt my heart beating inhumanly fast and slow at the same time.

Bruce’s hands remained on me the entire night. Just him touching me made me feel I was dancing on clouds the entire night.

Just the thought of Bruce makes me want to faint and fall because these feelings are scaring the shit out of me.

“Please listen to me, Y/N. I need to tell you what’s been going on in my head lately, because I don’t know how much longer I can keep it to myself,” Bruce begins, appearing more nervous than before. The usual confidence and smile on his face is now replaced with his eyes pleading for me to listen to him and his body is tense. “I-I don’t think I can keep pretending to be your best friend anymore. I can’t keep acting like I just want to be your friend. I can’t stick around anymore and see you date assholes who don’t know the real beautiful, kind, funny girl, you really are. Just the thought of you dating them makes me want to beat the shit out of them and possibly drop them off on a deserted island forever...okay that last part was supposed to be a joke, but I guess my sense of humor is different than most. Maybe I’m not kidding at all...”

I can feel my stomach hurt from this stressful situation. Bruce sees me eyeing the exit.

“Y/N, I-I love you. I love you so much that just saying these words isn’t common for me, because after all these years of meaningless dates, hookups, and reckless partying, I think I see why love is very rare. I didn’t think I would ever fall in love, and I even trained myself not to either. My parents were the true definition and example of love, and with them gone, I suppose I really let myself fall more into the darkness and isolation than I ever thought I could reach. But knowing you, you just showed up in my life as sunshine; just bursting with energy and life in a room when all my life I felt alone. W-what I’m really trying to say is, I want us to give us a chance.”

I slowly look up at him. I instantly felt betrayed, as if this is just a joke. “You...want to date me?” I barely whisper.

“Of course, Y/N. I’m serious about this,” Bruce says, appearing as if I’ve offended him and doubted him. He looks distraught and anxious. “I’m-I’m in love with you. I want us to be together. Official.”

When those words leave Bruce’s mouth, I suddenly realize, he’s NEVER, EVER said those words before. The words sound raw and rare; like a child speaking for the first time in their lives.

The thought of being close to a man like Bruce sends waves of paranoia and fright throughout my body. The last time I was intimate or even lying next to a man resulted in nightmares and fears of being hurt all over again.

I was just a child when my father and uncle would come home from work drunk, and how they would request my little sister and I to climb in bed with them. Being the oldest, I tried my hardest to protect my sister, and I ended up fighting them back; defending us from their violent drunken behavior.

Which always resulted with me getting hit, slapped, kicked, and thrown to the ground. Even though I eventually learned to fight back, I would always panic and feel defenseless until I fight back.

But it would always come down to that first hit to the face that would make every memory and nightmare come back to life for me.

I can just feel my father’s fist striking my mouth again.

The pain feels real again.

“How could you be in love with me if you don’t know a thing about me?” I ask. I realize I sound harsh and bitter.

“What?”

“Let me just say one thing, Bruce. You don’t really know me, because I only let you see what I want you to see,” I snap. I fill with sudden anger and pain. If only Bruce knew the real me. If only Bruce saw what kind of pathetic mess I am. “Unlike you, your life is Gotham’s most known story of your parent’s generosity, luxury, and their deaths. You don’t have to hide anything. I myself, have to hide a lot just so I don’t lose my mind and get locked up in Arkham and so I don’t lose those closest to me because I’m a walking, fucking time-bomb. Do you know how hard it is to put on a strong, brave, face even when I want to cry and show everyone how hurt I am and how much pain I go through each day?! You don’t because your life is fucking perfect, so why don’t you leave me alone and go find the perfect girl because I’m too damaged to love and fix!”

The pain, anger, and fear take over me. I knock all glasses of wine and plates of food off the table and I storm out, leaving a poor, terrified Bruce Wayne behind.

I’m rushing down the sidewalk to go far away, anywhere from here. The tears fall down my cheeks, and I start to hate myself even more for letting my past get the best of me.

After everything that’s happened, I don’t think I’m fully capable of being in love, in a serious relationship, married, having children, or just a family in general.

Only good people have that; the people who were never hurt or touched dangerously in their whole lives.

Just when I think I’m far away, Bruce manages to catch up to me by running VERY fast. He grabs my arm to stop me, and just that forceful touch awakens something within me: I go into defense mode to protect myself.

Just like all those years ago.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” I yell. My fist makes a hard connection to Bruce’s jaw; knocking him to the ground.

People around are watching us; gasping and pointing at us. Bruce looks up at me and holds his jaw. “Ow...”

I begin to breathe heavily before I begin to cry again. Bruce immediately gets back on his and comes to me.

“Y/N...please tell me what’s bothering you,” Bruce says softly. He doesn’t lie a hand on me, but he’s watching me intently.

“My past. I-I can’t seem to move forward without having to be dragged back every mile,” I answer quietly.

“Is this about your father and uncle?”

My eyes widen. I look up at him. “How did you-”

“You talk in your sleep. I’ve heard you have nightmares before, and after listening and lying beside you for some time, I put the pieces together. They abused you, and you tried to get out,” Bruce admits, before he sighs. “The reason why I never told you I knew about it is because I wasn’t sure if telling you was...appropriate, and considering you never made the attempt to tell me yourself. I just...didn’t want to cross a line and make you feel more pain, but I suppose I fucked up by not saying anything.”

“It’s not your fault. I always figured, ‘why bring it up if you’re just going back to past when you just want to be here’...in the present,” I mutter under my breath.

I think back on the times Bruce and I would fall asleep on his couch. After our movie nights, I would fall asleep on his arm and he would hold me until the morning came. Ever since then, the couch has been like a bed to us; the closest to a bed we’d ever share.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I-I didn’t know how much pain you’ve been in. But please let me help you,” Bruce begs, and reaches out to touch my hands but removes them quickly after what happened. “You don’t have to be alone during this time. Let me be there like you were there for me.”

“I’m never going to get better, Bruce. I have so many ugly scars, I could never be loved for who I am and what I've been through. After all this time, I thought I would be my best, but I ended up just getting worse. Maybe I should just give up and be at peace with myself for the first time in forever,” I whisper. “I’ll just keep trying again and again, because I don’t think there’s a reason to keep going forward, because I never will.”

Bruce’s mouth opens to speak, and the horror takes over his face when I find the little strength to stroll over to the street and walk into the fast driving cars in traffic in hopes of dying the quickest way possible.

A taxi is speeding down an open lane and is heading right for me. I stop in my tracks and look at the driver in hopes my past will never hurt me again.

Because I’ll be dead.

But strong arms pull me out of the way; knocking me and whoever saved me back onto the sidewalk. I’m on top of a big, hard body and the time I sit up to look down, I see Bruce, breathing hard.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Bruce asks me. He sits up as I stand up. Once he’s on his feet, he quickly removes us from the eyes of the public and we both head into an abandoned alleyway.

“I would have been okay, if you didn’t stop me,” I answer, slightly angry from him stopping me. “Why did you stop me, Bruce? Why can’t you just let me finally let go of everything?”

“Because if I lost you, I wouldn’t have a reason to go on either,” he says quietly. “Please don’t ever do that again. I-I can’t lose you. I need you in my life. I need you with me.”

“What about your sons? Alfred?”

“I love them, but I also love you too, Y/N. Dying...is never the answer. It’s darkness that you’re trying to escape, but no matter what, it will be with you forever. I’ve seen death, and I’ve also seen good people who allow the darkness and fear change them into people who could never be saved. I may not know everything that happened in your past, Y/N, but I know you’re stronger than you think you are. And you’re beautiful, Y/N. Everyone has ugly scars, including me. But if you managed to get this far in life, I would say that’s an accomplishment not many people can achieve,” Bruce says softly, before he finally holds my hands. I let him, and I let myself cry more. “Trust me, there were times I almost let my inner demons take over my life and emotions. I almost let go at a young age too. But then I have come to learn from an old friend that in every darkness, there’s light. You just have to find your light, and you’ll never be alone.”

I wipe my tears and smile up at him. “Alfred?” I ask.

“Yes, Alfred taught me that. Do you know who my light is?”

“Your sons? Alfred?”

“All of you,” Bruce answers.

“Even me? How?” I ask, completely shocked.

“Because after I met you, I...I felt normal. Human. I don’t have to try too hard with you, and I don’t have to put on a face of confidence and behave like I’m better than everyone. The playboy billionaire title doesn’t exist to me, because when I’m with you, I’m here with you, and that’s all that matters to me. I can laugh at stupid jokes. I can walk around in just a t-shirt and regular jeans around you. Hell, I can even talk shit about other celebrities with you. I can even tell you about my own nightmares, and how someday, I hope I really can make my parents proud of me. I trust you with all that and only you, Y/N,” Bruce reveals.

He finally takes the first step. Lowering his head to mine, he kisses me. Our lips connect like magnets, and the heat between us is hotter than hell, I believe. With one hand, Bruce holds my face gently, as the other holds my waist.

And for the first time in forever, I’m not afraid.

After Bruce pulls away, he looks down at me with a small smile. He pushes a strand of my hair behind my ear.

“I really care about you, Y/N. I love you, and if I have to wait a bit to be with you, then I’ll wait as long as I need to,” Bruce says.

“Thank you...for being patient with me and for just being there Bruce,” I say.

“I’ll always be here for you, because there’s nowhere else I rather be than be here with you, Y/N.”

“Same for me too,” I admit.

Bruce wraps an arm around me and leads me back to the restaurant. “How about pizza?” he asks curiously.

“And a movie?”

“Of course.”

“Will the boys be there?”

“Most likely but as soon as that movie ends, they’re gone. It’ll just be you, me, and my couch.”

I smile, a real smile that’s not forced for the first time in a long while. “I’d love that. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“I know what you mean,” Bruce whispers to me. “Because all I want is you here with me.”

“And I’ll be here with you every day.”

Was it good? Let me know please! I’m used to smut and I think it’s safe to say that this fic was a challenge but a good one!

#dc comics #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne fluff

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hergan416 · 5 years ago

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First line meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 15 stories. See if there are any patterns. Then tag your favorite authors!

I was tagged by @touchmycoat and I will pass this on to anyone who wants to do it. Even if I don't follow you, or you don't think I mean you, I mean you if you think this sounds fun. Feel free to tag me so I can see what you learn!

About formatting--I am considering each chapter in the fic "Thirty One Days" a unique chapter for the purposes of this meme, as they are written to be loosely connected one shots.

I am using both of my pseuds to better get a picture of my writing history, so if you end up looking up my yugiomo pseud...know that there WILL be omorashi and consider this your warning. If you do not know what this is, and are over 18, use urban dictionary or something.

Astonishingly, all of the first lines of all of the fics are tumblr safe. Horray. Most of the fics aren't. If you look up any fics, PLEASE pay attention to the ratings on AO3, and any content warnings.

Patterns: Every. Single. One. Of my new (2019 holiday season forward) fics starts with the name of a person and a paragraph. This paragraph immediately sets up the person's thoughts. Previously, I had begun fics with much more action, often with dialog, or specific thoughts or actions. "Keijo!!!!!" was sitting in my drafts for years before it was finished and posted, so it makes sense that it followed my old format, despite falling on the newer side of the break I took writing. (It is the only thing I published besides the 2018 YGOME before the 2019 YGOME started me writing again.) The long break coincides, to my memory with the tumblr purge and me entering a long-term relationship with my current partner. I should maybe think about adding more action into my writing again.

15. "War of Love: The Game" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Draw!” Atem yelled as he pulled the card out of the deck and looked at it.

14. "Dignity Lost! The Ship Ride to Duelist Kingdom" (yugiomo pseud, and yes apparently I'm mainblogging that now). --- Anzu grit her teeth as she listened to the gentle sound of water on the hull of the giant boat, every wave torturous to her ears. Finally she stood from her position crouching next to Honda. “I’m at my breaking point,” she complained, her voice a slight whine.

13. "Paladins: Champions of the Realm" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Enemy double kill... enemy triple kill!” the automated voice announced. "Enemy killing spree.”

12. "Failure" (yugiomo pseud) --- Stupid Kaiba and his stupid rules! Jounouchi thought, desperately working at the restraints that held him him in place. Who even made desks like this anyway? It almost seemed like the chain was built in, like it was meant to be on the desk. But that couldn’t be right. Kaiba had said he’d had this desk as a kid.

11. "More Sex Play" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Want to play something other than Duel Monsters this afternoon?” Atem suggested to Kaiba as he dug through the golden box for his deck. “I live in a game shop, surely there is something else you’d like to try to beat me at.”

10. "Alone" --- All Kaiba wanted was to shrink away from the music, the noise and the crowd. He didn’t want to play this part anymore, but he had to, for Mokuba’s sake. Mokuba was all that was left.

9. "Trying (On) My Patience" -- “Look, all I’m saying is that you need to find something other than a discarded school uniform to throw over your shoulders. And maybe some better jewelry.”

8. "Keijo!!!!!" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Don’t you think we should check it out?” Atem insisted, his intense gaze meeting Kaiba’s across the desk. “It’s the latest competitive fad in Japan. According to Yugi, men are going crazy for it.”

7. "Liquid Gold" --- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9XaS93WMRQQ

Atem sat at the computer, simply searching the internet while he waited for Seto to finish up with his work. While he almost exclusively had been using this specific computer in Seto’s office space since coming back from the afterlife, occasionally Seto would use it to set the ambiance while Atem was gone. What Seto didn’t know is that Atem had figured out how to search the browsing history, and that he had recently seen that there were nearly 20 plays of the same youtube video.

6. "All I Want For Christmas..." --- Yugi yawned as he watched out the window of the Kaiba jet . It was the private one, not the blue eyes white jet; Yugi had always been secretly nervous about that plane’s capability of flying, and regardless, there wouldn't have been enough room for Mokuba, Yugi, and Seto to fly in the dragon-shaped jet together. He’d been woken by the announcement of the plane’s descent, as dawn broke over the unique arrangement of city and harbor that forms Sydney, Australia.

5. "Help Me Doctor (I Have Sinned)" --- Marco always had an eye out for sails as he went about his daily tasks on Whitebeard’s peaceful home island. He’d been expecting Edward Weevil to make his way there eventually, and in the meantime needed to protect the small island from bands of low-class marauders. So, when he was walking down the beach and he recognized the telltale black flag, he immediately pulled out his spyglass. The jolly roger showed a skull surrounded by a fluffy pink scarf, with giant red lips and a brown and pink tricorne on its head, and Marco’s heart rate immediately increased.

4. "Shimmering Blush" --- Tony Tony Chopper woke up bright and early, excited to go back to see his friends. The last two years in Birdie Kingdom without seeing any of the other Straw Hats had been long, even with the new friends he’d made here. He knew he was stronger, and would do his best to support everyone now that he would finally get to see them again.

3. "House On A Hill" --- Marco wasn’t about to listen to Katakuri (of all people) lecturing him on selflessness. They both had always been the kind of people that would prioritize their families over themselves. That was why they had ended and Marco was cursing Katakuri for not leaving the island after yet another ill-advised tryst.

2. "Relief" (yugiomo pseud--you thought this died in 2017, didn't you?) --- Ryou had, for the most part, reached an understanding with the Spirit of the Ring. Unlike Yugi, Ryou was well-aware of the other person that had come attached to the Millenium Ring, the Item his father had gifted him from one of his archeological digs. Most people probably would have assumed they were cursed the first time they saw the disembodied Spirit following themselves around, and thrown the Ring away as far as they could. Ryou, in contrast, turned around, faced the Spirit, and said hello.

1. "Shared Nightmares" --- Robin has had nightmares about the Buster Call that destroyed Ohara ever since she escaped her fate. Sometimes it’s just the kids back home that picked on her and called her a devil child, all in the rescue boat and dying because she might have made it on board, sometimes it’s the burning of the Tree of Life, sometimes it’s Saul’s laughing face as Akoiji froze him solid.

0. "Seek and Ye Shall Find" (I miscounted and started a fic late and I am not spending time readjusting this nonsense) --- Atem was so happy he’d finally found a way to at least view what was happening back in Domino. Rather than getting surprised by the Gods’ future requests at world-saving, he could keep an eye on things from the afterlife. It’s not like he could transport himself to Domino without the Gods’ help, so it was more a way to keep an eye on things in the meantime. The Kaiba Dome seemed the best place for the mirror into the realm of the living; after all, Seto Kaiba now seemed the center of all the trouble.

youtube

#long post #my writing #writing meme #mobile doesnt have see more #Youtube

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tara-the-quiet-bookworm-2016 · 5 years ago

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Cycle Chapter Three

Authors Note- And look at this I am here again with Chapter 3 in tow. Now, in this chapter things will get a little interesting, a little dark but I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Also, since I’m in the habit of putting warnings in my Authors Notes like this, this story with have things such as stalking, and really dark thoughts. But, in all honesty I hope that don’t deter you, now that we got that out of the way here is chapter 3 of Cycle. Enjoy!

Chapter Three: What If I Followed You Home?

You. It was the first thing he thought about when he went over the edge of that roof with the deviant. And it was first thing he thought about when he slowly reactivated. You.

Something about you called out to him. Something about you wanted to haunt his every thought, and part of him couldn’t help but embrace that when he knew he should be concerned. But he wasn’t... in fact since the moment you first entered his thoughts he found himself wanting to know more about you, but his objective, his purpose kept him from that. Now however...

*Rebooting Systems.*

*Downloading Systems*

*Downloading RK800 Memory.*

ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR

*Warning System corrupted*

*Force Reboot*

“Rebooting Systems*

You frowned as your eyes remained glued to the screen, toying with the necklace around your neck. Rows upon rows of code scrolling past. Something was wrong with Connor, lately he had been getting errors whenever you and the others tried to download his subconscious into a new body. At first you and the others merely thought it was a glitch, but after the countless time this happened you were beginning to get worried.

Tearing your gaze away from the screen you turned to where Connor lay, looking as if he were asleep. Jumping you turned to your computer when it let out a beep, indicating that the download was complete, this time things went smoothly.

Getting up from your seat you moved to Connor’s side.

Static filled his vision when he first came on-line, static which slowly faded, and he was greeted by the sight of the very woman he wanted to see. Despite himself he found a smile breaking out across his face, his thirium pump skipping a beat as he propped himself on his elbows.

“How are you, Connor?” you asked, your ever present clipboard in your hands, pen tapping against it as you waited for him to answer.

“I’m fine. Though I take it Cyberlife isn’t too happy with me?” he asked, sounding sheepish.

“I don’t think the higher ups are ever happy...with anyone. Of course it probably doesn’t help that the number of deviants rises every day.” You said. “But enough small talk, let’s go through the basics, shall we?” you asked cheerfully.

Nodding enthusiastically Connor went through the same motions as the two of you always did whenever Connor was brought back to life, so to speak.

Odd. You thought worrying at your bottom lip as you looked down at your notes, despite the recent errors he seemed to be in working order, but still...

“Is everything okay?” Connor asked.

Turning towards him you met his gaze evenly, you saw no point on hiding anything from him, or anyone. You recorded everything when it came to your work, your work on Connor was no exception and these constant error constantly bothering you.

However what good would telling Connor do? He was simply a machine there was a good chance that he had no idea about the errors, after all they only seemed to occur whenever he had to be brought back to life. Maybe it would be something you would bring up next time you were at one of the many, many meetings Cyberlife tended to have.

Forcing a smile to your face, you shook your head. “No, nothing just got lost in thought there.” You said, toying with your necklace.

Deciding to let that go Connor swung his legs over the side of the bed he was laying on, his eyes immediately going to the necklace you were toying with. You didn’t have that the last time he was here, did you?

“You okay?” You asked.

“I was just admiring your necklace, it’s beautiful.” Connor commented upon realizing he had gotten caught staring, his eyes still glued to the little green dragonfly on it.

“Oh, thank you. S-someone I-I’m involved with gave it to me.” You said, your cheeks flushing a light pink.

Involved with?

Connor’s LED flashed yellow as he processed this, blinking a few times. Involved with as in a relationship with? Confusion and something else formed in the pit of his stomach. You were in a relationship? Connor felt sick...

But it kind of made sense, from the moment he woke up today he noticed you had looked...different. Your hair that was normally in a messy bun was now in a braid that went down your back, your features were also different as well, you were wearing make up, you obviously liked this person if you were going through lengths to change your look for him.

“You recently start seeing this person?” Connor asked, he felt sick. His LED continued to flicker yellow continuously.

“Actually he and I have been seeing each other for a while, today is our one year anniversary.” The soft smile on your lips, a smile Connor would have loved but now...

Now that he knew someone had your heart, that there was someone you loved he found himself growing angry with you. Had you ever considered his feelings? How he felt about you? You were the one good things in his bland, pointless life it seemed, nothing but you made him happy, and now? Now he had to find out that you were with someone else, when you should be with him?

Gritting his teeth Connor glanced at you, as you busied yourself typing something on the computer, seeming oblivious to his feelings. How easy it would be to wrap his hands around your throat and-

No!

Connor shook his head, shoving those dark thoughts from his head, it wasn’t your fault, it couldn’t be. You had no idea how Connor felt about you, you merely saw him as a machine, as did many people. But, he had hoped that with time you would see him as something else, someone else. And in doing so he would be able to tell you how he felt.

Connor flushed, it was almost silly, he hardly knew you and yet...

This isn’t the end you know...

A voice whispered in his mind, and Connor felt himself calm down, his eyes still glued on you. He couldn’t be mad at you, you were tricked into being in a relationship with someone you didn’t really love, so you weren’t at fault, but despite this he knew he couldn’t just sit back and let you slip from his grasp. He would get you one way or another, he just had to wait, bide his time and wait.

Connor smiled he had been built to hunt deviants, but it looked like he’d be hunting you. Getting up from his seat he wished you a good night and, with some difficulty, a happy anniversary as he headed for the elevator. Any other day he would have headed right back to the precinct, but that was not the case, he needed to dig up some info on you...

________________________________________________________________

Looking up where you lived wasn’t the hardest feat Connor had overcome in his short life, nor had hacking the Cyberlife files to find info on you. Imagine his elation when he found out that when it came to friends and family you had very few. You had a brother who lived in New York, parents were dead, no one would truly miss you if you did go missing, would they?

At least... not yet. And by the time they did notice you were missing you would be long gone, in his grasp, away from prying eyes. Away from people who would steal you away, and if he found that you didn’t like being his and his alone well... Connor felt a cruel grin spread across his face, as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Well, then he’d have to do everything in his power to make you see things his way. Even if that meant hurting you just a little.

But for now he would wait, and watch as he was doing now. His eyes glued to your apartment window, apparently you didn’t think to ever buy curtains as he could see right into your living room, and if you looked out you would see him too, though you probably wouldn’t recognize him as he had ‘borrowed’ some clothes from Hank. Not like Hank would mind, or even notice as when Connor had gone to his house to borrow some clothes he was blissfully passed out on his kitchen floor, an empty bottle of Jack Daniels laying a few feet from him, his slobbering mutt Sumo cuddled up beside his master.

Out of consideration Connor at least helped him to his room, to his bed before helping himself to some clothes. Now, here he was, leaning against the wall of the building that sat across from your apartment dressed in a baggy grey DPD hoodie, beanie which covered his LED from any prying eyes, and jeans. Should you look out the window you would only see a young man waiting for someone, and if he really needed to he could hide in the bushes beside him.

He enjoyed watching you, to watch as you went about your business, book in your hands as you slowly paced around your living room. Occasionally toying with your necklace, however Connor found himself interrupted from watching you as someone pressed the buzzer, you also seemed startled as your head jerked up before moving to your apartment door. At the door was a young man in his twenties, wearing a tan suit, shoulder length black hair combed back. Black sunglasses sat perched on his head as he pressed the buzzer again. This time you opened the door, and greeted him by throwing your arms around him and pressing your lips to his.

Connor’s LED flared red as he forced himself to watch this. So this was your other half, Connor’s lip curled as he scanned the man. Zander Marlow, huh? Connor would remember that as he watched as the two of you head towards a black dodge charger, Zander proving himself the gentleman opened the door for you, in which you thanked him and climbed in, watching as Zander got into the driver seat Connor watched as the two of you drove off.

Good, that meant he had time to snoop around your apartment, the question is...how?

Crossing the street he looked up at your building, there had to be away in...Ah ha! Connor’s eyes lit up when he found the fire escape, knowing which floor was yours he slowly and quietly made his way to your apartment. And what was this? It seemed in your haste to meet up with Zander you had forgotten you lock your bedroom window. Biting down on his bottom lip he slowly slid that open, casting a glance over his shoulders to make sure no one was watching him he climbed in.

Closing the window behind him, he took a moment to look around, smiling when he noticed the cute little glass figurines of various animals on a shelf. Turning away from it he looked around some more, noting bookshelves bursting with books, to your unkept bed. You obviously weren’t someone who kept things immaculate and he loved that, loved that you weren’t as perfect as him. Moving on he moved to the desk across from your bed, noting your laptop sat on top of it, as well as various pictures, including one that had caught his eye.

A picture of you laughing, Zander standing behind you, placing a kiss on your cheek, both of you looked so happy...looking the picture Connor felt anger swell in his chest, then without thinking he tossed the picture across the room, it hit the wall with a satisfying crack, glass shattering on impact. He could make you happy, he would. He’d be everything you ever wanted, he knew you wouldn’t be too accepting of him at first. After all, he was only an android and no one really thought androids could fall love, he used to think the same way, and now...

Shaking his head he moved to your living room, pictures upon pictures of you and Zander adorned the walls and sat on shelfs, however there was one that caught Connor’s eye. Sitting on the coffee table was a picture of you, smiling brightly, your arms wrapped around a warm eyed German Shepard dog, you looked happy. Happier than you did with Zander, you looked breath-taking. Without a thought Connor slipped it into his pocket, he wanted something to remind him of you while he worked out the rest of his plan.

Heading towards the bedroom he caught a glimpse of another picture of Zander, first step of his plan, getting rid of him Connor thought as he looked at the picture once more, a scowl gracing his face as he made his way to the window, and he knew exactly how he would do it, then he would worry about how he would get to you...

#DBH #dbh connor #Yandere! Connor #Connor x Reader #reader x oc #tw stalking #dark thought #Chapter 3 #I'm tired #long chapter is long

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squiddytentacles · 6 years ago

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Squidward’ll Be Okay

a pre-therapy Therapy fic.

“ Squidward's mental state takes a dip in a bad direction, and he possibly gets pushed into doing something good for himself. “

a compact 1373 words, of mild squidbob and soft squidward angst.

A bad day, a bad week, a bad month, almost a bad year. He's long since lost any taste for bemoaning his situation. Squidward's theatrics, as second-nature as they are, have been stymied down. His reactions range from hums in mild annoyance, to a dismissive sigh. He shows up to work every day, attends his post, and goes home. He says what he needs, to communicate with customers, to demand his paycheck, to ask Spongebob to quiet down (not very kindly, either).

It's hard to say the squid is irritable, though, because lately even Spongebob's daily adventures don't draw much of an emotional reaction from Squidward. He's mostly destitute, fading in and out of the world around him. Bringing misfortunes onto himself with his attitude, which only get piled onto his soiled luck in general. He can't see any good, which it's true sometime's he'll be dramatic about his depression - which is very real, but only briefly talked about during his check-ups. Internal embarrassment held him back from discussing it any deeper.

Keep Reading

Usually, there's a glimmer of good off in the distance that Squadward can look forward to. A recital, a vacation, a shift without Spongebob, but Mr. Krabs has been locking himself in his office more often, leaving the two of them to maintain house. Squillium Fancyson recently won another prestigious award for his Clarinet play - while Squidward can't even get a venue to book him. He loves his clarinet, but as talented as he believes himself to be, it's hard to continuously face the musical world with no validation.

So he doesn't play it. He doesn't both turning the TV on anymore, because he doesn't watch it. Spongebob has finally gotten the picture and stopped inviting Squidward on his boneheaded little adventures. Which was great, until Squidward realized Spongebob and Patrick were the only two seacreatures who want to spend time with him in the first place. Even his mother had been kicking him out lately.

From his own point of view, his life is astoundingly depressing.

It's the realization, one day at work, that he's just as blind to his incredible qualities as anybody else. As boastful as he tended to act in the recent past, he can't see it in himself. He feels like every insult that's been thrown at him in his life. It's startling, to him, to be so aware of his own failings. He puts his head down on the cash register and, with little effort, he cries. Almost soundless, if not for his hitching breaths. The metal is cool against his face, which feels warm and uncomfortable. As if his mere existence was embarrassing to him. He leans in applying hard pressure, even though the buttons hurt a bit.

"Woah, hey Squidward, Mr. Krabs isn't going to like seeing you sleeping on the job!" Spongebob says cheerfully, through the window.

Squidward sighs, and relaxes the pressure on the cash register - the money draw pops out and hits him square in the stomach. He's sent reeling a bit, after shouting in pain. He wants to feel angry at the register for hurting him, but he's numb about it. Just another blow in Squidward's life of hard knocks.

The cashier looks at his frycook before realizing he hasn't wiped his face, or blinked the tears out of his eyes. Spongebob's eyebrows bunch in worry, but the Manager's Office door slams open, and Mr. Krabs is scuttling to the rescue of his beloved Betsy the Cash Register who was being accosted. "Out of me way, Mr. Squidward!" He shouts, manhandling his employee out of the boat, and situates his machine. "Don't worry, baby, papa's got you."

Squidward can't even muster a 'whatever'. He's thinking it, so why can't he say it? Gosh, he feels more pathetic than ever. He looks down at his feet and listens to the squeak of Spongebob's shoes as he exits the kitchen.

"Um, Squidward," The little sponge's voice isn't discreet at all. "Why are you crying, are you okay?" But as loud as he is, his innocence shines through. His question tinged with genuine worry. It's too much for him to really handle, Spongebob cares so much it's almost physical.

How awful is he, that he's getting some sort of weird validation from the one person he was cruelest too.

Squidward's eyes once again burn with unintentional tears, but he takes a shaky breath. "Yes, Spongebob," He says sarcastically, "I am just fine." He looks anything but fine.

Before Spongebob can protest, having not understood the layer of sarcasm as always, their boss pipes in with a "Yeesh, Mr. Squidward, you're looking worse than usual!" He has a slight laugh in his tone, despite it not really being the time, and he picks up on his faux paw a few moments too late. He rubs the back of his neck with a claw, and shrugs with his other arm. "Is it something you want to talk about?"

He's met with a blank, unimpressed stare from his cashier.

Spongebob, who's been worrying his hands together, steps in front of Mr. Krabs. "If you don't wanna talk about it with us.." He looks off to the side, shyly. "Maybe you could talk to someone else.. Like a professional." The sponge offers a small smile, like he's hopeful or something.

For the first time in what feels to Squidward like forever, he feels something beyond hopelessness. And it's not good. It's white-hot, a contradicting feeling of rejecting the cook's idea and a small, small part of him that's been dying for such a thing singing out. His preconceived notions on the sort of people who go to therapy seriously getting in his way to see the rational in Spongebob's words.

"I don't need YOU, of all the hooligans under the Sea, to tell me I need therapy." Squidward bites out. Conveying emotion in his tone after a period of monotonous lilting. He glares at the frycook, trying to convey as much hate as he possibly can in his eyes. Spongebob looks.. sad, and Squidward tries to convince himself it makes him feel good. "Everyone needs be in therapy, but you're not gonna see ME dole out the little money I have just to have some pro-fesh-onal tell me things I already know." He waves a tentacle dismissively.

"Now if you will excuse me," Squidward says, trying to redeem his own dignity as the high of emotion makes him slightly self-aware. "I am going to take my break." He sniffs, and walks towards the exit.

Spongebob and Mr. Krabs let him go with a very pointed silence. He spares a glance at Spongebob even though he knows he shouldn't, his neighbor's looking at his shiny shoes dejectedly. He probably can't even stand to look at him anymore, and Squidward can't blame him.

In an effort to keep the buzz of emotional energy he's displaying, Squidward spends the first half of his walk home digging up all his unpleasant memories of Spongebob. All the peace he's shattered, all the activities he's butted in on and ruined, all the pain and torment he's forced Squidward through. The needlessly annoying antics, senseless destruction of property, complete disregard for his privacy. He picks every moment apart, and dwells and dwells and dwells.

And eventually, wanders to how he could avoid so much conflict with his neighbors if he'd not been so manipulative, or had been more patient with them. Shown a little more compassion, been even the slightest bit more kind, maybe they wouldn't have pushed him so far. Maybe they'd still be inviting him out for the antics that bring a little bit of excitement to the food service worker's life.

Squidward makes it home, and sits alone. He can't stop imagining the genuine worry etched into Spongebob's face. The dejection in his shoulders when the squid told him off. He drags himself to the front of his computer screen, scowling for a moment at his reflection before the monitor boots up. He's so unhappy with what he sees in himself, during this weird confrontation with himself, it actually scares him....

When he looks up therapists in his area that night, he doesn't call himself a hypocrite. He needs this.

-----

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! consider leaving a comment on the ao3, they always make my day when i notice them haha!

this was written in an hour and edited vaguely in 30 minutes so leeway is appreciated xD

#Spongebob Squarepants #Fanfiction #Squidbob #Squidward Tentacles #Eugene Krabs #CPUart

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cheekaspbrak · 6 years ago

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take me back to the night we met

I’ve posted the first chapter of the sequel to “little boy afraid” and I’m incredibly nervous because I am so incredibly proud of it. I want to note that while this is supposed to be a sequel, I will be trying my best to make it as “stand-alone” as possible. This first chapter feels like a brand new story, so feel free to read this first and consider if you would like to also read “little boy afraid”! I will link it below :)

Chapter 1 : your eyes were filled with tears

Summary:

These eyes never blink, they just stare. There’s so much emotion in those wide, brown eyes, and it stings. He doesn’t have to hear them speak to know what they’re saying. He knows them like the back of his hand. They’re his only weakness, the only thing that could pry him open. They’d pull at his ribs until his organs were revealed, but they can’t because they have no hands. He wants to stick his tongue out at the eyes and mock them for their lack of hands. They do have hands, though, just not here. Somewhere far away, somewhere like California. OR Richie and Eddie fell in love fifteen years ago, but it comes to an end, like all things do. They're both too stupid to realize that it's hanging over every minute of their lives, like an all-consuming shadow.

“What are you thinking about, Eddie?”

She asks him that question a lot and he’s never sure why. It’s a habit. The way some people push their glasses up their nose even when they’re not wearing them anymore.

He still does that. Eddie has seen the interviews on YouTube.

“Hello! This is Jessica Wilson here with Richard “Richie” Tozier and…”

Eddie never listens. He just watches him talk and press his fingers against his cheek, trying to adjust something that’s no longer there. A phantom limb .

What is Eddie thinking? His wife’s guess is as good as his own. What does she think he’s thinking about? Probably her. The question is rooted deep in her insecurities. “You’re thinking about me, aren’t you?”

He’s never thinking about her. Object permanence. She only exists when she’s standing in front of him. Conversations feel tired, like he’s saying the same thing to everybody. He learned a long time ago that they all pretend to hear the words, but nobody is listening. Especially his wife. He never has to think about what he’s saying to respond to her.

“I’m fine, dear.”

“I missed you today.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

His brain runs on autopilot. It sounds like the hum of an old computer, hmmmmmm. He wishes the noise would go away. He wants to hear his ears ring in the silence. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard silence. Just once, many years ago.

Hmmmmmmmm.

“What are you thinking about, Eddie? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, dear.”

“You’re thinking about me, aren’t you?”

“No, Myra.”

“I waited here at home for you all day. Why are you so cold to me?”

“I missed you today. I promise.”

“You missed me? I missed you too. Oh, I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Hmmmmmmmm.

If someone he knew when he was a kid saw him now they might ask him what happened. He was a quiet kid, but not around his friends. Not around Richie. He was a fireball around Richie. He can’t let himself think about Richie too long. Now he’s tame, subdued. It’s easier this way.

The pair of eyes watching him disagrees. Actually, they do agree. It is easier, but it’s not better. He’s learned to ignore the pair of eyes, unblinking, behind thick-rimmed glasses. They dig into his soul, like a rodent searching for food. I am not something to be searched through, he’d like to say. It’s a lie, and the eyes know it. He’s a heap of dust and bone, crawling with maggots and roaches. He may have been a man once. He isn’t anymore. It reminds him of a quote he can’t recall, but he remembers the jist: everyone will be eaten by maggots, in the end. He’s not dead yet, but he’s crawling with them. The biggest one- an ugly, white thing- looks too much like Myra. Round and wrinkly with a pinched face.

Richie would laugh at that. It sounds different now, quiet and hollow, but it’s still him.

“Myra, turn that off.” The TV is taunting him but he won’t look at it and give it the satisfaction.

“Did you know he lived in Derry? That’s where you’re from, dear. Did you know him?” He hates the way she says things, like he needs to be reminded. He doesn’t have dementia, not yet, as much as she might like him to.

“No. I didn’t know him.” The keys in his hand are incredibly fascinating now. His cab key, his shed key, his house key. He counts them. One, two, three. One, two, three.

“I’ve always thought he seemed so crass. I’m glad you didn’t know him, I don’t think you two would get along.”

He wants to laugh. He doesn’t. One, two, three. He wants to cry. He can’t hear what he’s saying but the sound of his voice is pulling him in. The TV laughs at him, or maybe it’s just the talk show host. He feels like he’s drowning in memories that he promised himself he would never relive.

I’m happy now.

The eyes are watching him. He doesn’t know where they are, probably California. They’re watching him, though. They don’t make a sound. They can’t, but they want to. They want to tell him he’s lying.

You can’t.

They don’t blink. Myra makes a grunting sound as she turns off the television. One, two, three. He sets down the keys and looks towards her. She puffs out air as she gets up from the couch and it makes him sick. It’s too familiar. He feels light headed.

“Lookin’ good, Mrs. K!”

His brain supplies the memory before he can stop it. His mother hated that boy so much. She never talks about him now. He wonders if she’s seen him on TV, too. Maybe she makes comments to herself about how crass he is.

“Are you okay, baby? You look so pale.” He flinches at the pet name. She’s too far away to notice, “Lie down, I’ll get a thermometer.”

“I’m fine, dear.” The frown that follows his words is repulsive, her lips look like they’re melting off of her face. His stomach lurches. He swears her eyelid is twitching, sweat gleaming on her forehead. The way it shines looks like a lighthouse beacon going back and forth. The light hits Eddie’s eyes, searing straight through his eyeball to his brain.

If he keeps looking at her he’ll go blind.

“Blind as a bat, Eds. But I can still see how pretty you are without them.”

Everything burns. He’s on fire.

“I’m going for a walk. Need some fresh air. Gotta stay active.”

She doesn’t argue. If she does, he can’t hear her. When he’s outside the world spins a little less. People walk down the street like they have somewhere to be. They all probably do. The city that never sleeps. Horns honk and buses rumble. He doesn’t think, he can’t. If he lets himself think then it will hurt. He doesn’t want to hurt anymore.

This is how he lives everyday. It’s time to move on. The people of the city wind around him, bumping into each other but never stopping. He’s a lot like them. He keeps moving so he doesn’t have to think. Nobody in this city wants to think either, their brains would bleed like a torn muscle. His brain is like a bicep that hasn’t been used in years. His heart is like that, too. They’re soft, malnourished. If he uses them it will open a vessel, bleed until it’s pouring out of his mouth. There’s too much to be thought about. He hasn’t thought in fifteen years. He’s thirty-three. If he had fifteen years of thoughts all at once he’d drown.

The eyes look at him and they look mournful. They want to tell him that he’s already drowning.

I’m not.

He wants to yell that out loud, but if he did the bubbles from his throat would rise through the water and pop, giving way to the lie. He is drowning.

So be it.

“It’s not safe to travel, Eddie, sweetie.”

That’s not why, though. He hasn’t been there because the eyes would meet their hands, and then they could tear into him. They’d be gentle, carving out skin and muscle with soft fingers to see what’s inside. He’s afraid of what’s inside. He hasn’t seen it in fifteen years. He’s afraid the hands would hold it up and look at it like a rodent. They’d tap it against a rock and try to figure out what it is.

“You’ve changed, Eds.”

I didn’t want to.

A lie. It was easier this way, remember? Easier, but not better. He doesn’t want to see what’s inside. He’d sooner die than see what’s inside. He’d leap off of a cliff, blood would pour through his mouth, maggots would eat him and he’d turn to dust and bone. Everyone will be eaten by maggots, in the end. Even him, even Myra, even Sonia, even Richie.

There are lots of cliffs in California, probably. He doesn’t think there’s any in New York City. When he needs a cliff, he’ll find one. Maybe he’ll finally go to California. Maybe back to Maine. Maybe he’ll make his own cliff, cut out of the corner of the rooftop of an apartment building he’s never been to before.

That should be tall enough. When he needs a cliff, he’ll find one. It will be pretty from up there, even with the sound of rushing water or car horns honking. It will be pretty, as long as it’s high enough. The lights might twinkle, or the stars, just for him. Maybe the brown eyes in his head will twinkle, too. Hiding behind glasses with thick lenses, they’ll twinkle with the lights, maybe from the tears, and then they’ll close. Finally.

“Hellooooo! You can’t just run into people like that!” He’s never been stopped for running into someone before. This is New York, after all. The woman standing in front of him must be a tourist, if she was a local she would have kept walking.

“I’m sorry.” He tells her, but they both know he doesn’t mean it. She looks startled when she meets his eyes, and forgives his ingenuine apology. The tourist brushes by him like she can’t leave fast enough. He’s under a pillar of construction, shaded from the day. He turns to look at himself in the window to his right. The tourist was pitying him, he realizes. She had seen how bloodshot his eyes were. He forgets that most people don’t walk around looking like this, because this is how he always looks.

The eyes pity him too. They look as startled as the tourist did when he looked at her. They stretch out round and wide, like the top of a foaming latte.

He stupidly realizes all at once that they’re no longer wearing their glasses, and they’re not in his mind anymore. They’re staring at him through the window of a coffee shop on Lexington Avenue and 27th Street, unblinking, unmoving. They have no glasses, but they do have hands. They also have legs that are bolting for the door.

He turns on his heel in the direction of his apartment. He won’t run, he can’t cause a scene. The tourist seems to think he’s following her and picks up the pace, but he doesn’t. The construction ends and the sun shines down on him, burning his eyes.

“Eddie! Wait!” His heart quivers in his chest, it hasn’t been used in so long and now it can feel something calling out for it. It rolls over, like an engine about to start. A fifteen-year-old engine.

“Eddie, please!” The voice is closer now, and he keeps walking even though it’s pointless. He’s already been caught.

The eyes' newfound pair of hands thunder down onto his shoulders, hurting him. He’s being turned around like a Spinning Top, colors and lights and sounds all blending together.

Eyes meet with no glasses to separate them from each other. Without the glasses, Eddie thinks their eyes may just meld with each other, fused together by a blowtorch. They still haven’t blinked.

“You remember me, right?” Eddie could punch him. Why wouldn’t he remember him?

“You’re a moron.” There’s no inflection in his voice, but something splits in his chest and splinters like wood. It feels good, like bones popping. His lips- lips that Eddie is just now remembering- curl into a smile. The beginnings of a laugh rumble in his chest, loud and open, much different than the quiet one Eddie had heard on the television. His lips crack when his own face stretches into a smile, like ligaments bending into a new yoga pose. He’s laughing on the sidewalk with Richie Tozier. Someone takes a picture, flushing red when the phone makes a noise.

He looks over at them dazedly. He doesn’t know them. Neither does Richie, judging by the look on his face. Why did they take a picture? He looks behind him, but there’s nothing but a gray brick wall. He remembers the television. Oh. He’s laughing on the sidewalk with World Famous Comedic Actor Richie Tozier.

“I’m so sorry.” The person apologizing isn’t the one taking the picture- they’re already gone. The person apologizing is Richie. Eddie thinks he must be apologizing for the picture, but it sounds deeper than that.

“It’s okay.”

“I still can’t get used to that happening, and it’s been ten years.”

“Does it happen a lot?”

“Three, four times a day. If I only go outside for coffee and a trip to the grocery store.”

“You still grocery shop for yourself?”

“...Yeah? Eddie, I still cook for myself.”

“Oh. Wait. Still? Richie, you set popcorn on fire three times.”

“I’m a changed man, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Wow. You haven’t outgrown the whole ‘dumb nickname’ thing? Seriously?”

“Let me take you out to dinner.” Another picture is taken of them, Richie doesn’t blink. He’s awaiting Eddie’s answer, like a gentleman. Eddie can’t breathe, he shifts from one foot to the other, “As friends.” Richie says, and Eddie realizes just then that his hands have been on his shoulders the entire time. His hold is tight, like he’s scared Eddie will run away. Eddie can’t say he blames him, considering.

“Okay, let’s go out to dinner.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight? Richie, I…” Without the glasses, Richie’s eyes are so open, so vulnerable. He can still read them so well. “I don’t think I have anything else to do tonight.”

“Perfect. Where would you like to go?” He can only think of a handful of places he’s bothered to eat at since moving to New York. He knows so little about the city that he still tells people he’s new to town, fifteen years later.

“I like Chinese. There’s a restaurant a few blocks away from here. We could probably walk.”

When they’re seated in the restaurant, Eddie finally takes him in all at once. He’s changed, his freckles are faded and his hair is shorter with less of a curl to it. It’s still long, but falls more flat around his face. He thinks it must be from years of mismanaging it. He’s wearing an ugly colorblock sweater made up of atrocious oranges and blues, but it suits him the way that everything loud and obnoxious suits Richie. His face is just beginning to wrinkle, like all faces do at thirty-three, and his face is coated in a layer of stubble he wouldn’t have been able to grow fifteen years ago. His eyes haven’t aged a day.

They move around each other like one moves through their home, like they know the way even with their eyes closed. All the furniture has been moved an inch to the left, though, so they occasionally stub their toe or knock something over. They move in sync, but clumsily.

“You’re married.” Richie, who has been staring at him for as long as he has, inquires with the tilt of his head.

“How did you know?”

“Do people put rings on their left ring finger as a fashion statement now? All the tabloids say my style is horrifying, but I didn’t realize I was that out of the loop.”

“I am married, asshole.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?” Suddenly Eddie is incapable of making eye contact. His eyes slide down to the menu he was handed.

“Her name is Myra.” There’s a beat of silence. The menu shakes in his hands.

“Welcome to the Super Dragon!” Their waiter cuts in, looking between them both. He is very smiley, too smiley. He recognizes Richie, “It is an honor to have you here, Mr. Tozier. What can I get you to drink?”

They order. Richie smiles and thanks him, but Eddie knows where to look. The waiter thinks ‘Mr. Tozier’ is happy, but he doesn’t know to look at his eyes. It’s all in the eyes. Richie’s eyes are tired.

“You’re married to a woman?” Eddie is tired too.

“Yep, my beautiful Myra Kaspbrak.”

“Wow.” Richie says, snorting out a laugh. Even in his annoyance he can tell that the laugh is more genuine than the one he had given the waiter.

“Wow, what? ” Richie looks like a kid keeping a secret to himself. He’s forcing his lips to twist down but they don’t want to, careening up into a smile.

“Nothing, Eddie, it’s just…” He laughs again, “You sound like a receptionist that’s been working for 34 years and has nine kids with her husband, Bob who hasn’t had sex with her since child number seven.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“‘My beautiful- ” Richie cuts himself off with laughter, still trying to be serious, “‘My beautiful - it was Myra, right?- Myra Kaspbrak.”

Giggles are flowing steadily out of his mouth, now. He seems to think his impression of Eddie was great. It wasn’t, considering he could barely say it without laughing. With the way Richie is laughing, though, with red cheeks and bright eyes, Eddie thinks it was pretty good.

“Stop laughing, asshole, that’s my wife.”

“My wife.” Richie mimics, putting his hands on his hips and looking stern. Their drinks are delivered and they have to order. He picks something on the menu at random, too distracted by the way Richie quiets back down when the waiter shows up. He pushes against his nonexistent glasses, hand covered by the oversized sweater sleeve. It’s a safety net, Eddie realizes. The glasses acted as a barrier between him and the rest of the world. He searches for them when he’s nervous.

When the waiter leaves, Richie leans forward on his elbows. Eddie’s soul is bared. He won’t stop thinking about maggots.

“You said you were gay, Eds.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t avoid the question.”

“You didn’t ask a question, idiot.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought it was obvious. Why the fuck are you married to a woman?”

The world spins again. He can’t think about these things. His brain is an unused muscle, it will tear in two. There’s no fixing an injury like that.

A dish clatters somewhere in the restaurant. Richie’s hand is closer to Eddie’s than it was before.

“You know why.” It’s all he can manage to say.

“You still talk to her?” Richie really does know why. Eddie knows “her” is his mother. Richie knows that she was his only weakness. She still is.

“I do. I don’t know why, but I do.”

“I don’t talk to my mom anymore.”

“Good. She was a piece of shit.” He knows Richie wants to say “So is your mom” but he doesn’t. Instead he looks at him, long and hard. This is what Eddie was afraid of, eyes attached to hands. One of the hands wraps around his own.

“Richie.” He says. He’s begging and he doesn’t even know why. Or maybe, he doesn’t want to know why, but he does. He’s begging because he knows he can’t stop himself from thinking again if Richie doesn’t let go of his hand.

“It’s okay.” He doesn’t know why Richie said that, there are so many things it could mean. The warmth from his hand starts to sink into his own and he’s amazed at how familiar it feels. They’re rougher, the nails are painted a neon green, but they’re still safe.

“Mr. Tozier, could we take your picture?” The manager of the restaurant has joined them, but they won’t even look at him. They’re talking to Richie, pointing at the wall and back at the digital camera in their hands. It’s a tradition at little hole-in-the-wall places like this, to put up pictures of famous people that have dined in their restaurant. Eddie’s never considered how violating it is until now. He’d nearly cried when he took a picture for his ID and it came out looking like a mugshot. Richie can’t go anywhere without his picture being plastered everywhere. Still, he agrees, smiling as the flash goes off. When the manager shows him how it turned out, he pushes the imaginary glasses against his face again, fingertips falling through the nonexistent frame and poking his cheek. The manager leaves, staring at his camera.

“That’s a cute habit.” He hears himself saying before he even realizes he’s talking.

“What?”

“The- um, well, you push your glasses back, even though they’re not there.”

“Oh.” Richie stews in this new information. He looks taken aback, “That’s weird. I didn’t know I do that. I haven’t worn them since I found my agent.”

“Why? I always liked them.”

“They were hideous.” It’s his turn to sound like sound like a receptionist that’s been working for 34 years and has nine kids with her husband, Bob who hasn’t had sex with her since child number seven. He looks down at his food.

“I liked them.” He repeats. He can’t remember when their food showed up but he hasn’t touched it. He tries to swallow some of the rice.

“I still wear them sometimes, I guess. When my manager isn’t around.” His voice is quiet, like they’re not in a city filled with screaming horns and buzzing voices. He sounds like he’s afraid someone might hear their conversation.

“I always thought you looked like Buddy Holly.” He smiles at Richie and his face shakes like tired legs after running a marathon. He hasn’t smiled this much in years. Fifteen of them. Richie smiles back with a smile that brings memories of sneaking through windows and driving around town.

“Woo-ee-ooh, I look just like Buddy Holly,” Richie sings quietly, eyes sinking into Eddie’s. Eddie joins in on the fun, setting down his fork and dancing with his hands.

“And you’re Mary Tyler Moore!” He likes the way Richie points at him with a teasing finger. He can’t believe he was listening to Myra tell him how he would have never been friends with Richie Tozier mere hours ago.

When dinner ends, they exchange numbers and tight hugs. He thinks Richie might be crying, but it could just be the city lights reflecting back at him. Richie tells him not to forget about him, this time. Eddie thinks it would be too romantic to tell him that he never did in the first place, so he says nothing and goes on his way. The eyes still follow him home.

Tag list: @girasol-eddie @violetreddie @thorn-harvester-ven @constantreaderfool

I’m tagging everyone who has asked to be tagged in the past, but if you want to continue to be tagged make sure you like this post so I know I won’t be bugging you by tagging you!

Also, if you want to be tagged in the rest of this story, message me or comment!

#h writes #reddie #reddie fanfic #reddie oneshot #richie tozier #eddie x richie #eddie kaspbrak #Richie x Eddie #it chapter one #it chapter two

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mischiefandspirits · 6 years ago

Text

Iron Legion (2/?)

Never let it be said that Tony Stark ever does things by half. He might have grown up with little family, but he wasn’t about to keep it that way.

Tony Stark was seventeen when his first child was born, and that was just the beginning.

For Masterpost, AO3, and Fanfiction

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Boy Wonders, Part 1

Tony Stark was twenty-six when his fourth and fifth children were born.

The first time he met Mary Parker, she was on her husband’s arm at a conference Tony was speaking at. The second time he met her, she was relaxing back against the counter of his hotel’s bar watching her husband slip off with a blonde.

“Marriages work out better if you just let each other do what or who they want. Communication and all that,” she’d explained with a shrug and a smirk when he joined her for a drink.

He didn’t remember most of what happened after that, just a few fuzzy memories of fruity drinks and dropping onto the bed in his room with the woman.

When he woke up, it was to an empty room.

He’d shrugged it off, it wasn’t the first time. And when he checked his computer and noticed someone had gotten through his firewalls, he shrugged that off too. It also wasn’t the first time, and she, like the others, hadn’t even noticed the actual security on the computer, let alone gotten past it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Victoria Richards was a feisty woman who Tony had met in a club after a presentation at Tennessee Tech. He’d been deep in his cups when they met, trying to distract himself from the recent loss of Edwin Jarvis.

Then she’d come up, dirty-blonde hair falling loosely onto bare shoulders. His eyes had immediately landed on swinging hips barely covered in daisy dukes.

“How ‘bout a dance, cowboy?” she’d giggled, dropping her cowboy hat onto his head.

“Just a dance?” he’d asked.

She’d winked and grabbed his hand, tugging him up to his feet and nearly falling over in the process.

They’d both been way too drunk to think about being cautious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the two years Happy had been working for Tony, he’d seen a lot of women who swore they were carrying or had carried his boss’s child. It wasn’t a far fetched story by any means; he’d well earned the playboy title. That didn’t mean any of them were telling the truth, of course. Half of them had never met Tony, and those that did gave up at the announcement they wouldn’t even be getting anywhere near him until they passed the paternity tests.

Victoria Richards was different than all the ones that came before.

First off, she came directly to him instead of marching into some Stark Industries building or another and asking for Tony.

“Sir, you work with Mr. Stark, right?”

Happy turned to see a young woman staring at him with arms crossed. His first thought was reporter, but she was wearing a baggy flannel shirt and torn up jeans with her hair up in a frumpy ponytail. Not exactly the usual flirty or professional look reporters digging around into his boss gravitated towards.

“I work for him.”

“You his driver?” she asked, glancing at the car.

“Bodyguard,” he corrected. Technically, he was the one that drove Tony everywhere when he didn’t decide to race Happy, but that didn’t change his actual job title.

“Then you work with him,” she said with a shrug, as if it was that simple. She pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and shoved it into his hand. “Give that to him, would you.”

Happy didn’t respond, too distracted by how distended her stomach looked with her arms down.

Her arms crossed again and he looked up to meet her glare. “I know what you’re thinking, and you can shove it where the sun don’t shine. I ain’t looking for money. Just wanna be sure that when my baby asks why they ain’t got no daddy, they can hate him for not being there instead of me for not trying.”

“And the child support?” Happy scoffed.

The woman’s eyes narrowed even more and she turned her nose up at him. “Like I said, I ain’t lookin’ for money,” she growled and he noticed her accent grew stronger in her anger. “I was raised on a farm, I can take care of myself and my baby on my own. I’m only here because I ain’t gonna lie and tell my baby I tried when I didn’t. I don’t actually expect anything from him.” As if to prove her point, she turned on her heel and marched off. “Just give him the damn letter.”

Happy glanced down at the note and opened it. He quickly read it through to see that it said much the same as she’d already told him, though with the addition of her name and number as well as a note that if Tony could “be man enough” to actually want to see the kid, he could, but if he tried to take them away from her, she’d do something that would really cut into Tony’s playboy lifestyle.

The bodyguard sighed and ran over to the woman. “Hey, I’m sorry, but it’s Stark Industries policy that anyone attempting to speak to Mr. Stark,” he waved the letter, “in any form, about a supposed child has to first allow for a paternity test to be administered before any contact will be allowed.”

He almost thought Victoria would just keep on walking, but instead she turned to him with a huff. “I ain’t paying to have a bunch of doctors stick all their needles in me and my baby.”

Happy blinked at her. “It should only be one needle, in your arm, and Stark Industries will cover the costs. It will all be done in house.”

She stared at him for a moment then shrugged. “Alright then, my flight doesn’t leave until tomorrow anyway. Lead the way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on, Happy, you should have gotten a Happy Meal!”

Ignoring his boss’s joking, Happy accept the bag of food from the woman in the drive-through and pulled away. He drove a few blocks before parking and handing Tony his cheeseburger, fries, and drink.

He kept an eye on their surroundings as he started eating his own hamburger, only letting himself be distracted for a moment when he looked down to grab his ringing phone. “Hogan.”

“Mr. Hogan? This is Dr. Arzt. I’m calling in regards to the test you requested be done for Victoria Richards. The results are in.”

“And?” he asked.

“They were positive.”

Happy choked.

“What’s up, Hap?” Tony asked as he coughed, leaning over the seat.

“Are you sure?” he asked, ignoring his boss.

“Quite. I ran the tests thrice just to be sure, given what a positive would mean. All came out the same.”

In Happy’s defense, he was a little distracted, so he can be forgiven for not remembering what happens when his boss gets ignored.

“What would a positive mean?” Happy heard both from inside the car and coming out of his phone.

He glanced back to see Tony with his phone to his ear. The billionaire gave him a wink.

“M-Mr. Stark! I’m sorry, I didn't know you were on the line!”

“He wasn’t before,” Happy growled.

“I had to know who was making my Happy sad-y,” Tony chuckled. “So, who is this?”

“I’m Dr. Arzt, Mr. Stark. I’m the on-call doctor at -”

“Why are you seeing a doctor?” Tony asked with a raised eyebrow. “And why are they running tests? If you die on me, Happy, you’re fired.”

“Thank you, Dr. Arzt. I hope I don’t have to remind you what you’ll be facing if this gets out.”

“Of course not, Mr. Hogan, Mr. Stark. If you have any other questions, let me know.”

“We will. Goodbye.” Happy hung up the phone and Tony copied him with a raised eyebrow.

“What’s going on?”

“A woman came up to me yesterday. I brought her in and we… initiated Code Arthur.”

“Code Arthur?” Tony asked, but Happy caught him pushing up his glasses. He recognized the code.

“That was the doctor with the results,” he said, not humoring his boss.

Tony sighed and slouched down. “Positive, huh?”

“Apparently.”

“So who’s the lucky lady?”

“Victoria Richards.” Happy pulled the letter out of his pocket.

“Never heard of her.”

“Well, considering what she’s carrying right now, you’ve definitely met,” he snorted, handing the paper over.

Tony frowned at it. “How much she asking for? Or is she in it for the fame?”

“None, and no.” Tony’s eyes widened. “Read it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Just a minute,” Tori called, adjusting the blouse she’d just been about to take off.

As she made for the door, she swore under her breath. Heaven help her, if it was Jackson Willis from down the street again, she’d be pulling out the shotgun.

She pulled the door open with as pleasant a smile as she could manage after working two extra shifts at the diner while four months pregnant. The smile immediately fell away.

She should have brought the shotgun.

“Ms. Richards.”

“Mr. Stark.”

“May I come in?”

“No.”

“Fair enough.”

Tori crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. “Why are you here?”

“I got your letter.”

“Clearly. So you wanted to turn me away in person,” she snorted with a smirk.

He blinked at her then chuckled. “Right, you’re daisy dukes from Tennessee.”

“Why am I not surprised that’s how you remember the woman you’ve slept with?”

He just shrugged. “I like to get around. And it’s not like the ladies I’m with are the kind to expect me to stick around after. Or if they are, it’s not because of my winning personality.”

“True.” Tori had only agreed to go back to his room because she’d been looking for some fun and time away from her pushy cousins. She hadn’t even known who he was until the next morning when she’d woken up to a note giving her permission to order anything she wanted from room service.

She hadn’t taken him up on the offer. Her parents raised her better than that.

Stark opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by a loud shout. “Hey Vicky, you okay over there?”

Tori shot the tall man a glare from where he was standing on the side of the road. “Get lost, Willis!”

“This guy bothering you?” Jackson asked, ignoring her and stepping forwards, eyeing Stark.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the billionaire. “Get in here before I decide to shoot him.”

Stark smiled and strutted in while she gave Jackson a death glare. “Get off my property, Willis and stop calling me Vicky!” She slammed the door and turned to her unwanted guest. “Mind yourself, Stark. You’re only in here because I’m sick of that hovering act he’s been playing since the town found out about the baby. Now, why’re you here? If you think I’m going to the press you can relax. I don’t want none of that nonsense near me, let alone my baby.”

Stark shook his head. “Yeah, I got that from the letter. You don’t want anything to do with me or Stark Industries. Understandable.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Then why?”

When Stark started fiddling with his sunglasses, Tori felt the urge to yell at him that sunglasses weren’t allowed inside.

God help her, she was already turning into her mother.

“Look, let’s be real. I’m well aware that I’d be an awful father. But -”

Tori scowled and wrapped an arm protectively around her stomach. “If you think you’re taking them, I’ll remind you of the letter.”

Stark immediately started shaking his head. “Woah, hold on. No, nope, no way. Didn’t I just say I’d be an awful father? Horrible really. Terrible! Maybe not the worst, but up there. Down there? Anyways, no, I’m not going to take them from you. That would be a bad idea and I only have good ones.”

Tori snorted and Stark relaxed, smiling once more.

“No, I’m not going to take them, but I do want to help out.”

“Help out?” she asked and despite herself, she felt herself relaxing too. “Like I told your buddy, I don’t want your money. I can take care of the kid on my own.”

Stark gave a nod. “I’ve no doubt, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make it easier on you. I’ve done the research on the flight over. Single mothers tend to work long hours to make ends meet unless they’ve got financial backing from elsewhere or a really high paying job. I can give you either of those or both even.”

“I’m not gonna let you spoil my kid, Stark.”

“Not spoiled, did I say spoiled? No, I was spoiled and look how I turned out!” Stark mimed gagging and a few giggles spilled out of her. “No, just enough to make sure you are both taken care of.”

“Stark -”

“Look… Can I call you V? Vic? I know not Vicky, but Ms. Richards is way too formal and Victoria is way too long.”

“Just call me Tori,” she sighed.

“Right, sure, Tori. Like I said, single mom’s work a lot. I grew up with a parent that spent more time working than parenting, wouldn’t wish that on any kid, especially not one I brought into the world. I won’t force my money on you. You tell me to leave and never return, I will. I’d like to do something though, even if it’s just… What would be the typical child support around here?”

Tori gave him a blank look.

“Right, I can have someone look into that. Or a job, one that would give you both good hours and good pay. I could do that too if you don’t want money.”

“I’m not moving and I’m sure you don’t have anything out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“Money it is then?”

She snorted. “You’re never going to let me say no are you?”

He shrugged. “Like I said, tell me to leave and I’ll leave. I just haven’t heard you tell me to leave.”

She eyed him up and down then nodded. “I don’t need a ton of money, but I wouldn’t mind not having to work multiple shifts. You give me what any of these idiots around here could give me and not a penny more.” He opened his mouth and she put up her hand. “No, my turn. That’s all the money I want from you, but I also want health insurance, the good kind. And with dental and vision too.” Because she wasn’t letting Stark spoil her kid, but she also wasn’t letting them not get the care they might need just because she couldn’t foot a bill. “For both of us,” she added on because she also wasn’t leaving them alone for the same reason. “And college.”

“Of course, they’ll have a full-ride into any college they want!” Stark agreed before she could continue.

“No,” she crossed her arms again. “They’ll have a full-ride into any college they can get into on their own merits. I won’t have you bribing their way through school. I want them to do well, but I want them to be the one doing it.”

“Of course they’ll do well, they’re a St- They’ve got my genes.”

That… was a good point, admittedly. Hadn’t she read that Stark’s father had been a bit of a genius too when she’d been looking into the man? Maybe it was in the genes. Could her child be as smart as him? More so? “Either way, their own merits. And if they don’t want to go to college, or if they’re not as smart as you’re expecting, you better keep your mouth shut about it. You be proud even if they’re destined just to be a pig farmer, you hear me.”

Stark blinked at her. “Would it really matter? It’s not like I’ll be…” he trailed off, waving his hand vaguely around.

“Like hell you won’t,” she hissed, marching up to him. “You want to help out in their life, then you be in their life. That’s my next condition. I won’t have you just being an ATM. I’m not expecting you to move in or something, but you visit your kid. On birthdays, Christmases, and the like, you’re here. And phone calls in between. You got me?”

Stark was actively gaping at her. “You… You’d want me here?”

“No, I’m telling you that if you’re going to be in my life, let alone theirs, you’re going to at least try not to be a complete donkey about it. Now, do we have an agreement?”

Stark looked at the hand she held out like it was a rattlesnake, but took it. “Alright, I agree to your terms. For the record, that last one was a terrible idea on your part.”

“We’ll see.”

#tony stark #peter parker #harley keener #iron family #mary parker

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dreamwritesimagines · 7 years ago

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Don’t You Love Me? 9- Darling, I Can’t Seem To Quit [Steve Rogers x Reader]

A.N.: Your feedback makes me so happy and helps me write faster, please keep it coming! <3

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader, Tony Stark x Pepper Potts, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff.

Warnings: Drinking, mentions of addiction, self destructive behavior, cussing, explicit language, mentions of sex.

Summary: Past never stays in the past.

Word Count: 3659

Read Chapter 1 here!

Read Chapter 2 here!

Read Chapter 3 here!

Read Chapter 4 here!

Read Chapter 5 here!

Read Chapter 6 here!

Read Chapter 7 here!

Read Chapter 8 here!

The beautiful moodboard is made by fictionwillneverdie

Gif’s not mine!

How was it that after years on the run, his voice still managed to give you goosebumps and made you fill with an urge to run away?

It didn’t matter where you’d run. Anywhere but there. Anywhere that he couldn’t get in contact with you, anywhere-

Wishful fucking thinking. There was no way you’d ever get somewhere he couldn’t get to you.

You could feel the panic roaring through your system and you clenched your fists, trying to pull yourself together. You felt like you would actually pass out from fear because the room was spinning around you in full pace and your legs felt way too weak, but you managed to open your eyes and blink fast in order to get your vision back before digging your fingernails into your palms.

“Don’t call me that, asshole.”

Thank God your voice was stronger than how you felt.

He tsk tsked. “Denial gets you nowhere, Y/N. I thought I taught you that.”

You bit inside your cheek hard enough to make it bleed, then turned around. He looked just like how you remembered him, even his arrogant smirk hadn’t changed. His hair was shorter but the way his eyes shone with that dangerous light was exactly the same.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Tony spoke for the first time as Steve took a step towards you, as if he wanted to come closer to make you feel better, stronger even. You grabbed your phone, typing in the password, then stole a look at the computer beside you.

“I’m Trent,” he smiled, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Stark. I heard so much about you,”

“Well that makes it awkward, because I didn’t hear anything about you,” Tony stated, frowning deeply and Natasha walked towards you to stand by your side, as if trying to console you.

“I see that you’re good friends with my wife-”

“I’m not your wife,” You stated, focused on your phone and Trent chuckled.

“We got married-“

“Did we though?” You looked up from the phone and raised your brows, “Show me documentation. It doesn’t exist.”

Trent’s jaw clenched, “Well, that’s because someone hacked into the state’s system and deleted the electronic copy-“

“Yeah, someone…”

“And because of an unfortunate accident on the same day, the hard copies caught fire.”

“Unfortunate accident, yeah. They never found the person, did they?”

Trent looked as if he had tasted something sour for a second, “Nope. Unfortunately.”

“Okay, full offense, you look like a dickhead-”

“Tony!” Pepper whispered and Tony shrugged,

“He does. He got this whole Bond Villain thing going on, do you have a cat too? A spinning leather chair? Why were you trying to steal my files, Trent?”

“You were getting too close,” Trent smiled, “I thought I could introduce myself. After all, we’re both businessmen, aren’t we? We know how business wor- Y/N, it’s rude to be on your phone while we’re talking.”

You ignored him until you punched in the code, then looked up,

“Look at the computer on your right.”

“I’m sorry-?”

“What, did you think you were the only person who has been keeping tabs, fuckhead? Look at the computer on your right.”

Trent turned his head and frowned, “I’m sorry, are you actually pointing a satellite at me?”

“Your office is still in that skyscraper you own, isn’t it?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Don’t try me, you compensating motherfucker.”

“You can hack a satellite?” Tony mumbled and you shrugged, still holding the phone tight.

“You can’t?”

“Speaking of that,” Trent said, “Keeping tabs. I gotta say, I don’t approve your past time activities.”

“There’s a solution for that, you should go and fuck yours-“

“All those people you’ve been sleeping with…” he tsk tsked “And now I find out that you’ve been seeing Captain America.”

And just like that, the room went silent.

"It's nice to finally meet you Cap."

"Can't say the same, son." Steve spoke for the first time, and unlike how you felt, his voice was under control, as if everything was okay.

As if there was nothing wrong.

His calmness had a hint of authority in it, and that was more than enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Okay, what the fuck?

You really weren't supposed to be turned on right now.

Trent's eyebrows rose, "I see," he said "Let's skip the small talk then."

"Let's."

"Steve, don't-"

"Sunshine, I am talking here." Trent cut you off and your eyes narrowed, the fury spreading through you.

"You piece of-"

"You're looking for trouble, Mr. Rogers." Trent cut you off, "I'd thread carefully."

Steve smiled calmly and crossed his arms "I'm guessing your understanding of threading carefully means hiding behind a screen." He stated “Like a coward.”

Trent's smile faded and Natasha shook her head.

"You need to give me this guy’s address so that I can teach him some manners…" She muttered into your ear and you pursed your lips as Trent gritted his teeth, glaring at Steve before turning to you.

"You wanna know what I think, Y/N?"

You looked up at the screen "Not really Trent, no one fucking cares what you think."

"I think you're doing it on purpose." Trent said "You went and found the one guy whom you knew I wouldn't stand, because you wanted to get my attention."

"Yeah asshole, because my whole life revolves around getting your attention."

"You're trying my patience, sunshine. You know what happens when you do that."

And just like that, all the muscles in your body clenched and the panic started bubbling at the pit of your stomach. The memories flooded your brain so fast that it almost made you wince but you managed to keep your expression as still as you could.

"I'll be in touch with you, Mr. Stark. We're interested in a program your company currently possesses, and I'd like to talk to you about that."

"Sorry, I don't do business with people my friends don't approve, and it’s obvious Y/N doesn’t approve you."

"You haven't heard of our offer yet."

"Not interested."

"You will be." Trent said as you felt something cold touching your shoulder and you flinched before you saw Bucky, squeezing your shoulder as if trying to assure you everything was fine.

"Y/N?"

"Fuck off Trent."

Trent smiled again "I'll see you really soon. We'll catch up, okay sunshine?" He nodded at Steve "It’ll be over his grave, so wear something nice."

With that, the screen went dark and the room around you started spinning faster, panic flooding your system.

“Fuck this shit,” You managed to say, then grabbed your bag and stormed out of the room.

"Y/N, I'm serious, you need to stop." Jake said as he sat down across from you. Unlike before, you weren’t by the bar, but this time you had got yourself a table, figuring that less people would disturb you.

No such luck.

"You need to fuck off." You told Jake as you filled yourself another glass and he eyed you up and down.

"I'm cutting you off."

"Do I need to threaten you again?"

"Threaten me all you want. You downed one full bottle, I'm surprised you can even see straight-"

"Listen, I'm not in the mood," you said, "Go back to work, and leave me alone."

"What happened?"

You slammed the glass down "Leave me the fuck alone!" You snapped and he looked taken aback for a second before he licked his lips.

"Don't leave okay? I'll take you home when I’m done."

"I'm not going home."

"To the Avengers Tower then."

"I'm not going there either. What part of leave me alone don't you get?"

"Y/N, you can't-"

"Thank you Jake," both you and Jake turned your heads when you heard a voice "I'll take it from here."

You had no idea whether it was due to whiskey in your system or Steve was actually there, at the sleazy bar. Unlike how you felt, he looked as if everything was under control as he shed his brown leather jacket and rolled up his sleeves while Jake stood up and Steve sat down next to you.

"And a glass please."

"You don't drink." You mumbled at Steve who shrugged.

"I don't get drunk, there's a difference."

You pursed your lips as Jake brought Steve a glass.

“Here, sir.”

“Thank you,” Steve said as he filled it, and Jake walked away. You raised your brows, watching him.

"You drank all of it by yourself?" He asked as he lifted the almost empty bottle and you nodded silently, looking down at the glass.

"Yeah."

"We gotta introduce you to Thor."

"You should leave." You muttered, turning the glass between your hands. You couldn't take it, him being all perfect, not right now.

"Why's that doll?"

The sweet nickname made you pause at the warmth spreading through you but only for a second.

"You know why,” You answered fractiously and he shrugged again,

"Not how it works."

"I can tell you something that could make you run away."

"Hm, and what is that?"

You gulped and reached into your pocket to pull the very small bag filled with drugs. You held it up, waiting for him to go away but he only clenched his jaw before his intense gaze fell on you.

"I didn't… take any." You muttered "I haven’t, yet- I've just... I've been considering it for the last two hours."

Steve extended his hand silently, motioning for you to give it and you tilted your head.

"I'm not good with authority, Cap."

"You would've taken them already if you really wanted to.”

“Yeah well, maybe I’m still considering-”

“Y/N,” his voice was gentle, “That's not the solution, you know that."

You gritted your teeth and hesitated for a second before you placed the tiny plastic bag into his palm.

"Where did you even get them?"

You shrugged "I have a past, so..." You bit on your lip "You should bail."

"What?"

"You've heard what he-" you swallowed "He's coming for me, Steve."

“Let him. We’ll be ready.”

You chuckled bitterly, “We?”

“Yeah, all of us. Me, Bucky- Buck hated him too by the way- and Tony, and have you seen Nat? I mean if I were him, I’d be more terrified of Nat more than all of us combined. She will place his head on a freaking stick, I’m just hoping she will let me watch.”

You wiped at your nose with the back of your hand, “You don’t know him.” You mumbled, “You don’t know what he’s capable of, I just…” Your voice cracked, “I don’t want to be here anymore, I want to go home.”

“Okay, let’s-“

“Not to my apartment. Home.”

Steve paused, “Where’s that?”

You sniffled and twirled the glass around, watching tiny droplets move, “Somewhere he won’t-“ you cleared your throat, “Somewhere safe. There’s no such a thing anymore, is there?”

“Come to the Tower with me.”

You shook your head, “They’ll have questions and I don’t want to talk to anyone. Besides Tower isn’t safe either.”

“I’ll be there, Y/N. Trust me, it’s safe.”

“Yeah well, he could still get me-“

“Over my dead body.”

“Yeah Steve, that was his plan, weren’t you listening?” You put the glass down to see him better but he didn’t look worried at all.

“He’s not gonna kill me.”

You gritted your teeth, “You missed the part where he failed to mention his last name then?”

“What’s his-“

“Besides, I don’t-“ You motioned at him, “I don’t deserve this whole thing. I- I hacked you.”

“Hacked me?”

“Got into your phone, pried into your privacy. I know stuff about you that you don’t think I know- I even went through your google searches – sex on the beach is really a drink by the way, want me to order that or will you leave before that?”

“Y/N, why would I leave?”

“Damn it, Steve-” you shook your head, “I wasn’t supposed to do that, okay? That’s- that’s like really rude and Fury told me not to, and I did it anyway-“

“You know, I got into lots of fights back in forties,” Steve cut you off, “Bucky kept telling me not to. I did it anyway.”

“Nice to know some things don’t change.”

“The point is,” Steve said, “Sometimes you just can’t do what people tell you to do. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad person, it just means you have your own rules.”

You stared at the glass for a couple of seconds as you tried to pull yourself together.

“I don’t…” you mumbled, “I don’t want anyone to lay a finger on me. That’s my rule now.”

Steve nodded slowly, “May I help you establish that rule, then?”

You could feel the sob climbing to your throat so you just nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face to his rock hard chest. He held you tight, as if you would disappear if he didn’t, and pressed his nose to the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your hair. You stayed like that for almost a minute, in silence, wrapped in the scent of him before you felt him rubbing your back, shivers coming back with full force.

“Come on doll. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

You hugged Steve’s brown leather jacket tighter around your body, trying to inhale his cologne as discreetly as you could while you followed him up the stairs. For some reason, your heart was still slamming against your ribcage as you thought about the possibilities, but you chastised yourself in your head, since when were you getting nervous around guys?

“Steve, Fury called-“ you heard Sharon’s voice and you froze on your tracks, holding the handrail tight, unsure whether you should take those last steps but Sharon, being a well-trained agent immediately sensed your presence and turned her head. She paused only for a second before she looked between you and Steve, her eyebrows raised.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had company,” she said, leaning back to her open door, “It’s Y/N, right? I saw you in SHIELD headquarters before.”

You tried to push a strand of your hair behind your ear, but jacket’s sleeves were too long for that so you just ended up brushing the sleeve against your hair, “Yeah. Hi.”

“What did Fury say?” Steve asked as he unlocked his door and you climbed up the last two steps, still feeling like you were intruding in a way. Sharon stole a look at you before she smiled at Steve.

“Nothing that can’t wait,” she said calmly, “Have a nice night. Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Um- yeah totally, you too.”

Awkward…

She closed the door behind her as you approached Steve, then stepped inside his apartment, looking around. He followed you suit and closed the door before switching on the light, and you bit on your lip.

“What would the neighbors think just got much more serious.” You mumbled, making him chuckle.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure she’ll be fine with it? I don’t wanna-“ You shrugged slightly, “Fuck shit up.”

That seemed to make him smile while you followed him deeper into his apartment. It was a nice and cozy apartment, Steve’s characteristics reflecting on objects here and there. There were couple of framed black and white photos on the walls –who even framed photos anymore?- and his shield was leaned against the wall, as if he had just remembered not to take it with him on his way out. A few books about World War II were scattered on the coffee table and on the corner, he had a phonograph.

“There’s nothing going on.”

“Hm?” You turned your head “What?”

“With- uh…With Sharon. There’s nothing like that.”

You scoffed, “She wants to jump on you.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, as if taken back by your outspokenness, “I’m sure you’re wrong.”

“Women can sense that shit, Rogers.” You muttered as you looked out the window. “Nice place.”

“Thanks. When was the last time you ate something?”

“I drank whiskey,”

Steve shot you a reprimanding look, “As in actual food?”

You thought for a second, “Can we make popcorn?”

“...That’s- Y/N, that’s not actual food.”

“It’s my comfort food,” You shrugged, and he looked like he would say no, then shook his head slightly, as if annoyed at himself for giving in. He made his way to the open kitchen and you shamelessly eyed him up and down, and leaned to the kitchen island.

“Sorry about tonight.”

Steve looked at you over his shoulder for a second before he spilled some popcorn into the pot, “What’re you talking about?”

“You know what,” You muttered, dragging your fingernails on the smooth surface, “Everything. I’m sure- I’m sure you have questions-“

“I don’t.”

You frowned, “What?”

“I don’t have any questions. Whenever you want to tell me, you’ll tell me.”

For some reason, that was more than enough to make tears fill your eyes and yet, you found yourself smiling before you took a shaky breath, pulling your phone out of your pocket.

“You know, I made my research. A little.”

“Hm?”

“About how dates worked in 1940s.” You touched the phone and the music filled the room, making him turn his attention to you.

“…And you’re supposed to dance on a date.” You held out your hand and he shot you a look, then shook his head, as if he was embarrassed all of a sudden.

“I’m not a good dancer.”

“And I’m drunk as fuck Steve, we make the perfect pair.”

“I don’t even know this song.”

“It’s my sex song- I’m joking!” You pulled at his hand, “Come on. It’s not very gentleman like to turn down a girl’s dance request, you know. What would forties’ etiquette say?”

He heaved a sigh but let you pull him closer and his arm sneaked around your waist, making you giggle. The soft popping sounds of popcorn filled the air along with the music and you bit on your lip as he swayed you, then you looked up at him as he entwined his fingers with yours.

“What?” he asked gently and you shrugged,

“You’re really pretty, Rogers.”

A faint pinkness adorned his cheekbones, making you smile but he played it cool,

“I’m pretty sure that’s my line.”

“Sucks to be you.” You muttered, “Why aren’t you running for the hills, Cap?”

“Never been the type.” he said silently, as if the minute he talked louder, the magic would disappear. You couldn’t help to smile.

“But you know I’m trouble, right?”

“Oh definitely.”

“That doesn’t scare you?”

“Nah,” he shrugged, “Buck says I have a thing for trouble anyway. Why bother proving him wrong? I’d never hear the end of it.”

You could barely feel him pulling your body closer to his as your heartbeat got faster, and for a second it worried you that he could hear it. You didn’t know why, but you were much, much more nervous around him than any other person, and yet it didn’t make you uncomfortable. It was the same feeling as you had riding a rollercoaster, excitement filled with glee.

“You should check the popcorn.” You muttered and the corners of his lips turned upwards.

“It can wait,” he muttered, his breath warm on your lips and you closed your eyes as you saw him leaning in, excitement washing over you, making your heartbeat go crazy but you were snapped out of your bliss before his lips could even touch yours.

“Rogers!” Natasha’s voice was accompanied by the pounding on the door, “You came back home? Seriously?”

You opened your eyes when you heard Steve’s impatient sigh, as if he was as annoyed as you were.

“What is this music?” You heard Bucky’s voice and a small laugh escaped your lips.

“Is it normal to hate your friends sometimes?” You wondered out loud as Steve pulled back.

“Sorry about this,” he said and made his way to door, then opened it. From the sounds of it, Bucky had just walked in and Natasha was on the phone, following him.

“Guys…”

“Yeah, me neither Pepper.” She said and Bucky heaved a sigh.

“I thought you were outside looking for-“

“Hey there Barnes.” You walked to hall and waved at him, while Steve looked between you,

“Y/N?” Natasha said as soon as she saw you, still on the phone, “No- Pepper, she’s fine, we’re at Steve’s place. No no- you don’t have to-” She stopped talking as Pepper probably hung up and Bucky cleared his throat, as if he didn’t know what to say.

“Your ex husband is a prick.”

Steve shut his eyes for a second, as if praying for patience and you pursed your lips, then nodded and threw up a peace sign.

“Word, man.”

“Potts is coming by to see if you’re okay,” Natasha held up her phone, as if now realizing she had interrupted something, her expression full of regret. “So Tony is probably coming too, to drop her off. Sorry.”

“O- oh? Good-”

“Did we…interrupt something?”

You exchanged glances with Steve, who looked as lost as you were,

“Nah you didn’t,” You waved a hand in the air dismissively and Steve seemed to get the clue because he shook his head fervently.

“No, not really.”

“Yeah nothing was happening.”

“Sure, just… you know. Nothing.”

A silence fell upon all of you and you could tell that neither Bucky nor Natasha bought your lies, but in the end, Bucky heaved a sigh.

“Well since we ruined something, we might as well eat the popcorn.” Bucky said as he and Natasha walked past you and you leaned your back to the wall, huffing out a curt laughter.

“Come on then Cap,” You pushed yourself off the wall as Steve let out an impatient whine, throwing his head back “Good things come to those who wait.”

Chapter 10 is here!

A.N: Now repeat after me: I’ll leave feedback because Dream loves feedback! ❤️ 😂

Special thanks go to: @theskytraveler @asongofmarvelanddc @astanwehave @girlwhoisfearless @fictionwillneverdie @lilywoood @marss-anonymous @icameforthefanfiction @pandalandalopalis @barnesrogersvstheworld @evolutionofkatep @lostkizzy @reallyconfusednow @miss-jen-winter @fandomcrazie @latibulemark @aikeji @dans-les-details @evanstar @thatprofessionalfangirl @minuialeth75 @optimisticheartyouth @laffers18@kiwngsoo @myrabbitholetoneverland @itsyaboyo @avengemebuckyy @freightcarcap @stargeek727 aestheticimagines @kerishet @fangirlbookworm @samwinchxtr @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @marauderskeeper @whogaveuspermission @thewhinersoldier @iamthemaskhewears @sasunarushiita @whatiswrongwithpeople @mischievous-fairy @agent-smoak @allison-rosewood-maximoff @petrashappyplace @swtltlmrvlgrl @imalittlebean @hey-garrett-shut-up @ruffdog921 @hogwarts-and-houseplants @go-crybaby @danielhowellstolemycamera @zabeth716 @imaginecrushes @miss-jen-winter @attorneyl @missmidnightxo @renesmeeharelds , @sippinpeachtea@skeletoresinthebasement @birdandrose @dark-princesse @local-space-ace @bva14 @broken-pieces yourwittywitch @yasssssvictoria @dreamsofcaliforniaadventure @hista-girl @im-only-slightly-psycho @meashy-moo@themessthatismymind soulsofstarsliveinyourveins @nininstinct@charlie1987me @imyxtay @owhatshername1 @raiymaj and lovely anons! Without you, I wouldn’t be able to write this, you’re amazing! <3

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