#and I gotta wear a baseball cap at work to keep the sun out of my eyes so I’m gonna keep looking bald as hell like girl help | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skellebonez · 3 years

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How's about 45 and 54 where canon MK finds himself in the Inverted AU Universe? Because I think that'd be funny

Poor MK is having the second worst day of his entire life. This is not the situation he should be in AFTER THE FINALE. This would have been way different if I wrote this when you sent it in, but now you get a very sad Monkie Kid.

You may technically be an adult, but you’re still my child./ Yeah well dying generally puts a damper on things.

When MK was knocked out they were on the deck of the drone ship, fighting off some kind of demon that the White Bone Spirit had taken under her control.

When MK woke up they were on the sandy shores of Mount Huaguo surrounded by baby monkeys and one Six-Eared Macaque looking down at them with a face of great concern.

“Are you-” Macaque started to ask them, unable to finish his sentence when MK screamed and kicked out and just barely missed making contact that would have sent him flying backwards into the nearest tree. “Whoa, no, it’s alright! I’m not-”

“What did you do to me this time, Macaque!?” MK yelled, looking around for a weapon, any weapon, something they could use to defend themself. Their eyes fell on something familiar, something that shouldn’t exist anymore and they froze at the sight of red and gold.

“Little one, is your name MK?” Macaque asked softly, holding up his hands as he slowly walked forward back toward the started and confused young adult before him. “I found you washed up on the shore. You need to lay back down, you’re still-”

Macaque let out a yelp of surprise as MK dove, hand firmly grasping the familiar warm-cold center of the staff.

But it felt... wrong, somehow.

They didn’t let go.

"OK, WHAT IS HAPPENING!?" MK shouted, holding the stolen staff in front of them as they turned on the immortal monkey that was their one time mentor. "Is this Jin and Yin again? Is this the Calabash!? Did they change it so my stuff doesn’t work in it anymore!? I'm not falling for that again!"

"I'm sorry, the what?" A new voice rang from behind him. One a little... too familiar...

It was MK. It shouldn't be possible, not if the Calabash was working the same way it had worked before, but it was them. But not.

Like... the way the staff felt.

The Other MK standing in the too bright sun wore a stark sky blue and black instead of his signature orange and red, a large hefty backpack in that same blue slung over his back. And he was... tall. Not unusually tall, just taller than MK was. And also looked incredibly angry as he carried a box of medical supplies.

"The... Calabash..." MK repeated, holding the staff closer to their chest with a nervous gulp. Their hands twisted around the staff nervously, hoping the repetitive action would ground them against the repeating 'THERE IS ANOTHER YOU STARING AT YOU WHAT THE HELL' whizzing in their head. "This... this isn't Jin and Yin again after all, is it?"

MK gulped again, blinking as their vision swam suddenly and their head felt like it was filled with... something. Like liquid but if it was as light as air.

"I don't know which answer would be better for you," Macaque said softly, honesty palpable in his tone. Something so odd for the Monkie Kid to hear in their ears with that voice. "But no. We are very much real."

"Oh..." MK said plainly. "Oh that's bad. That's... Oh boy..."

Before their eyes rolled back in their head and they passed out they were pretty sure they saw a few more overly familiar faces rushing to them.

When MK woke a second time they were once again moved, but to somewhere else far less familiar than the shores of Mount Huaguo and the drone ship... but also too familiar. They also now realized that their head hurt... a lot. Like, a lot a lot.

“Finally, you’re back from the brink of death,” that same overly familiar voice rang our in their ear. They snapped their head to the side, regretting it instantly as it made their vision swim again and lights pop in front of their eyes. “Hey, no, don’t do that!"

The other MK jumped up, kneeling down in front of them and poked them in the forehead. His scowl didn’t seem to let up in the slightest, but it tilted in a way that felt more concerned than angry.

"... why am I looking at my own face?" MK asked, not sure whether they should continue to stare at their own face or to look anywhere else to keep their brain from short circuiting trying to process what the actual hell was happening.

“Considering you were able to pick up my staff,” the other MK said, removing his finger and gesturing to the rod that was still across MK’s chest (how had he not noticed the extra weight of it still in his hand?). “I’d say we have some kind of multi-dimensional bullshitery going on here. Unless you’re, somehow, a robot made of the same shit Red used to get the that thing in the first place, but I don’t think robots bleed from head injuries.”

Ah. That would explain why his head felt like someone had cracked it open and shoved cotton balls into it.

MK looked around, taking in the stark white walls and the overly clean smell and the clean white sheets they were laid on.

“... am I at the hospital?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Other MK yelled, raising his arms in frustration as he paced the room in a familiar excess of energy. “But unfortunately for us you don’t exactly exist here! So we’re figuring out a way to make them believe you’re me with some really fucked up memories my dude! Which is easier with, you know.”

The other MK knocked on his head twice, wincing a bit as the second knock seemed to be harder than intended.

“... but you’re..?”

“I snuck in.”

“OK, well, thanks for the help,” MK started, sitting himself up with more than a little struggle. “But I need to figure out what the heck happened and get back to-!”

“Oh no you don’t!” Other MK said, jumping on the bed and standing over him. That was... well, MK would definitely say that was a very weird but effective way of keeping someone from getting up. “Macaque already ran off without letting me stop him, I barely got him to take some backup, to figure out what in the hell is happening. You are me and I know myself and if you ever tell anyone this I will end you, but you are way too injured to be doing anything right now!”

“I have to do something, Other Me-”

“No, oh no I hate that, just call me Blue,” the other MK said, the scowl on his face softened ever so slightly once again. Just slightly. “It’s a lot better than ‘other me’. And there’s nothing we can do until Macaque gets us some answers.”

"So... what, Blue? Am I just supposed to sit around and wait for someone to come and rescue me if he finds nothing!?" MK snapped, grip on their staff tightening so much that their knuckles paled and creaked in stress. "Just do nothing while who knows what happens to my friends!?"

"No," Blue said, placing his hand on MK's shoulder and frowning when the other shrugged it off and curled in on themselves. "But hurting yourself isn't going to help you get back to them. And as long as you’re here you’re my responsibility.”

“I’m a grown ass adult, you should know that.”

“Yeah, well, dying generally puts a damper on things and you’re not so adult that you can’t escape death,” Blue said, letting himself fall back into a sitting position on the bed. “Unless you got to keep your invulnerability or something, but given the crack in your noggin that doesn’t seem... like...” Blue trailed off, looking at MK with an odd expression. “... are you ok? Like. Emotionally?”

“Huh?”

“You’re crying.”

MK wrestled with one of their hands to free it’s iron grip on the staff (not their staff, their staff was gone, they had to remind themselves that their staff was gone and... and so was so much else), raising to their cheek to discover that at some point in Blue’s retort they had indeed started crying.

“... what happened to you?”

“It’s a long story,” MK said, wiping their face on their arm (they now realized they were wearing hospital dressing). “I...” They grabbed the staff with their now free hand again, twisting the grip carefully and freeing the iron hold their other hand had. “Can I just... keep this for a bit longer?”

Blue looked at MK, looking between the other him and the staff that was rightfully his before sighing and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Not like I need it right this second,” he said, his scowl vanishing completely as he stood and yanked over his backpack and put it back on after he pulled a baseball cap out and squished his hair into it and pulled it down to cover his face. “There’s gonna be someone here with you at all times until you get out, just to keep you in the loop of what’s going on here. We’ll figure out where you’re staying if Mac doesn’t figure out a way to get you home by tonight.” He moved toward the entrance to the room, turning back before opening it. “I’ll be back, I gotta restock my bag. There’s a couple people who wanna talk to you already... don’t... freak out.”

Before MK could ask what Blue meant the young man opened the door and slipped out, talking to someone just out of his line of vision before running off down the hall.

And then they saw the overly familiar sight of Pigsy and Tang... except they weren’t.

Pigsy, their Pigsy, was always in a chef’s uniform unless he was sleeping. Rough edges softened when he smiled or looked at MK or Mei with that exasperated look that MK knew meant he cared. Tang, their Tang, was a scholar who looked the part in every way, old fashioned clothes and books in hand. Always smiling when he could manage it and carefree.

This Pigsy was.. soft. And fluffy. Literally soft and fluffy. And wore oversized sweaters and smiled in a way that fit more on someone else’s face but felt right at home on his. This Tang was...

Well, the only way MK could think to describe the man before them was “skinny biker with probably hidden muscles who would kick your ass”. He looked the same but his hair was more wild, sunglasses pushing his bangs up, decked out in a (probably fake) leather jacket... but he had the same scarf.

And he and Pigsy were holding hands.

“I suppose you already know who we are,” the biker version of Tang said, smile on his face very awkward and seeming somewhat forced in a “I don’t know if this is helping but I’m gonna try” kind of way. “And we know who... you are. Kinda.”

“Yeah,” MK responded, thinking for a moment back to when he was found on the beach. “Were you... were you the ones with Blue, the other me, on Mount Huaguo?”

“Yeah,” the soft Pigsy said and... wow, hearing that voice say something so gently so casually was throwing him through a loop. “M-Blue was convinced we needed to get out of the city for the day and brought us along for his training. We didn’t expect to find... well, another him...” Pigsy frowned, the first one MK saw on his face and it felt so much more openly worried than their own Pigsy’s scowls. “How are you feeling?”

MK looked down at the staff in their hands, then back up to the two men in front of them.

They weren’t the two people MK considered father figures. They weren’t. But they were. And as MK tried to process this they felt their breathing speed up faster and faster and faster until-

“Hey,” Tang said, gentle and soft voice breaking MK from their racing thoughts as he reached out to put a hand in MK’s hair but stopped himself short. Probably in remembering that they weren’t Blue. “You can stay with us if you want. Once you’re discharged and if you need somewhere to stay.”

Well... that didn’t help at all.

No.

Instead it opened the floodgates and MK started crying harder than they had since the final fight with the White Bone Spirit, curling in on themselves as the last few days and what had transpired really hit them.

“What the FUCK did you do!?” He heard his own voice shout from the doorway.

It looked like PIgsy’s apartment. But not.

MK’s hands clenched at air, wishing they still had the staff for comfort. But no, they insisted that Blue take it back when they were discharged.

Blue was still the Monkie Kid after all. He needed the staff to fight.

MK... was just MK here. And they couldn’t fight, not while recovering from their injuries anyway.

But oh how they wish they hadn’t given it back. It felt so right and yet so wrong to hold it. They didn’t realize how much they had grown attached to the object until it was...

“MK?” Once again Pigsy’s voice startled him, not for the first time since they arrived at the apartment and MK took up the extra bedroom that this world’s counterpart had once stayed in until the apartment above the shop opened up for them. “Do you need anything?”

“No,” they responded, hands gripping the edge of their jacket in an attempt to hold something solid. It wasn’t the same. “I can handle myself.”

“I know you can, but you don’t have to,” Pigsy said, coming into the room holding a cup of water and putting it on the nightstand. “And you don’t have to talk to us, if you don’t want to... but it’d probably help. Even if you just ramble about something.”

Had this been the other Pigsy he probably would have something something like “You may technically be an adult, but you’re still my child”. Something firm and gruff and filled with underlying affection for the younger adult. But this Pigsy... there was some of that there. A firmness to his words, though the gruffness was missing. But he could feel the affection he must have had for Blue transferring to themself, the knowledge that they weren’t the same person holding most of it back.

But it was still there.

And MK hadn’t really talked to anyone since the short lived argument with Blue.

“... You uh...” they started, chuckling quietly as they twisted their fingers together. “You said you own a flower shop? My Pigsy, uh... he, runs a noodle shop.”

It wasn’t going to help. MK was certain that talking about their family and friends and how different they were would probably make how he felt worse.

But sitting there and ignoring it would make it worse far quicker in their mind.

So MK talked. For hours. Eventually Tang joined the two, both listening as MK recalled all the differences and similarities and...

Well. They listened. Just like their own Pigsy and Tang would.

... they wondered if they would ever get to go back.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #fanfic #gen fic #inverted au #crossover #mk #Qi Xiaotian #six eared macaque #pigsy #tang #freenoodleshipping #(implied)#MK is having a BAD day and eventually all your emotions catch up to you and you break like a dam #i used they for mk and he for Blue because it got very confusing writing the two of them without referring to their clothing color constant

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bitchassbucky · 4 years

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Ｔｗｉｎｅｄ: ＡＳｏｕｌｍａｔｅＡＵ

📎Word count: 1.5k

📎Warning/s: Mentions of death, f-bombs galore. MINORS DNI.

📎A/N: Hey lovelies <3 @honeyvbarnes and I worked on this Soulmate AU and we hope that y’all like it! I loved working with my bff and we’ll do it again hopefully <3 enjoy!

📎Honeyvbarnes’s Masterlist

📎Masterlist || Ask || AFTERDARK

When Bucky Barnes died back in 1943, he died knowing that he lived his life without a soulmate.

When he turned eighteen, he waited for a flash of annoyance, stress, or anything emotionally malicious that came from his soulmate since emotional pain is supposedly said to connect two wandering souls no matter how far they are from each other.

A bit sadistic, Steve Rogers would say. But Bucky would always counter his friend’s point with, “you see, Stevie when your soulmate gets hurt, you’re the only one who can hear them-- at least in your head-- and you can help them, you can help them find you,”

“Still, I don’t want someone to suffer just to make a connection with me,” Steve said, ever a gentle-hearted (but strong-headed) person.

“They’re not gon’a. Annoyance is enough for them to create a short connection,”

“What I’m hearing is that I get a pass for annoying you more,”

It’s hot. Searing. Humid. The air is so thick, you can almost choke on it.

The beach is filled with people-- couples and families mostly and your mind wanders to soulmates.

You never had one and as far as you’re concerned, you’re better off without one.

Since your eighteenth birthday, you felt a great deal of stress coming off from your soulmate. You had to go through various therapy sessions, evaluations, and couple’s counseling since the supposed love of your life won’t answer to your pleas and calls as to what the fuck is going on inside their head.

They never let you in and it seems like they will never let you in.

Not now and not ever especially since the torment of nightmarish inner turmoil had subsided; granted, there are still some night terrors but it doesn’t compare to the pain you felt back then.

You started thinking maybe they were in the army or something of that sort.

Maybe, maybe. What if, what if

That’s your inner turmoil; the boiling water inside the pot.

You weren’t sure where to start looking for them-- you spent years trying to get through but you never get as much as a word.

So you gave up.

And not a lot of people give up on their soulmates, at least not the ones who never had to spend literal years of their lives trying to coax out a word out of their loved one.

You still get worried and anxious about them. You still try to comfort them after a particularly bad nightmare even though you know they won’t answer back to you. You still tell them that you’re always there, ready to give the comfort only a true soulmate can give.

You wanted to give them warmth not knowing that they dislike the heat.

Bucky had always hated the summer. He hated how everything is so warm and dry and humid. He hated how he can’t stay bundled up in dark sweaters and jackets, he hated the way that the glow of the scorching sun brings out the best in people.

He prefers the cold. The harsh winters remind him of his past, and he likes to suffer, he allows the despair and loneliness to settle deep in his bones. The heat of the summer makes it more difficult for him to keep his mind separated from yours.

Bucky Barnes died back in 1943 without a soulmate, but after his resurrection in Wakanda, he knew you were there. The dull feeling of annoyance would come in waves and he knew you hadn’t felt him yet.

Oh, but you did, he came to realize. Over the years, Hydra had control over him, his mind, and his soul. The constant wipe of his memories not even sparing a chance for him to feel emotion, to feel you. The harsh realization that you had to feel the same pain he had, makes him sick.

Thinking of the years of abuse and torture makes him want to apologize profusely, but would you even understand? Would you ever love the person that’s caused you so much pain? He doesn’t know who you are or your age, and the fact that his soulmate lives in an era where he was never meant to live in, still confuses him to this day.

So he’s built up walls, a mind blockade in hopes that you’d move on without him. He doesn’t deserve love after all that he’s done. Mostly, you don’t deserve him as a soulmate. You deserve better, he thinks.

He feels guilty shutting you out, but he forces the guilt away because he knows you can feel that too. On his bad days, you still assure him that he’s not alone in this world. You give him warmth to soothe his ice-cold heart, but he rejects it, doesn’t want it, doesn’t deserve it, he’ll tell himself.

One fateful summer day changed that though.

As Sam Wilson finished packing the car with what he calls ‘beach essentials’, Bucky Barnes had his mind a thousand miles away.

“You okay, tin man? Got your sunscreen?” His dark-haired friend chides soothingly. Sam was wearing a red Hawaiian shirt, his Raybans clipped onto his lapel, and his skin smelled of berries and shea butter; he smelled and looked like the personification of summer himself.

“Let’s go, Wilson; I don’t have the patience of getting stuck in traffic with the both of ya,” Bucky rolled his eyes behind his dark sunglasses, his hair tied in a low bun, he was wearing a baseball shirt and a summer-themed beach short with seagulls on it, as per Sam’s request. His skin glistened with the newly applied sunscreen he snatched from his go-bag.

“And what’s so bad about it?” Steve wore a flannel and dark jeans combo, his baseball cap was on backwards, because ‘I wanted to try something new,’ he said, and he opted for a pine-scented suntan lotion instead, deciding to get a slight tan.

Bucky decided not to answer the question.

The ocean mist filled your senses as your book chapter hits its end. Putting down the easy-reading material, you stretched out and propped up yourself, thinking if you should join the other beachgoers in the water.

Giving it a quick thought and then glancing at the beach’s showering station, you decided against splashing around. This is more of a reading day for you.

You picked up your dog-eared book again and started to read when a good gust of wind kicked up the sand, sending a few grains your way, you quickly closed your eyes and yet, just as fate intended, you ended up with sand particles in your left eye.

“Ow, what the--” Bucky instinctively put up his arm to protect his eyes when a breeze flew past them, “something’s in my eye.”

Fuck.

Fuckity-fuck.

Your eye has been invaded by sand and it feels like it’s scratching your cornea raw. You can think straight, you’re in pain albeit minimal, it’s still pain.

You try to scramble for the bottle of water you kept close for hydration, hoping it will be enough to put you out of your misery, washing out the sand.

“Something’s definitely in my eye, Sam, I feel it,” Bucky tries not to squirm so much under Sam’s touch, but the pain feels almost invisible, like it’s not his.

“Stop moving so much, I can’t see anything,” Sam said, reaching into his bag to get his eye drop he was saving especially for this occasion, “I got your back. Don’t tell me that I overpack ever again,”

Drenching yourself in water was better than the agonizing pain you felt not five minutes ago. Your left eye was red, pulsating, and tearing up like a mad dog in a shed; perhaps this was your cue to pack up and go home.

Then you feel that magnetic pull again. Stronger this time.

You suddenly remembered the lore and the tall tales of the universe pulling soulmates together, literally, if they were close enough to each other. You try your best not to walk to your left side as the pull dictates.

“Where are you going, Buck? Our spot’s right here.” Steve said, unpacking the food he prepared for their beach day. Sandwiches, chips, fresh fruits, and beer are already in place when Bucky felt a strong pull to his left side.

“I just- I gotta check something out,” He said, not knowing where his feet are taking him.

The lore said when you meet your soulmate, the gravity will shift around you. The magnets of your souls will push you towards each other even if you try to pry yourself away. Your bodies were from the same asteroid before and now the universe wants you together again.

You feel your skin prickle as you try not to look behind you. You’re familiar with the tales, the personal anecdotes, how it feels to be pulled towards your literal soulmate.

Bucky just stands in the sand, his eyes not wandering too far from where you’re standing, your back behind him.

Is this it? Is this his soulmate?

What if you hate him? What if you don’t want to be with him?

Bucky’s heart quickens with the thoughts, his anxiety riddles his brain as he tries to come up with something to call you.

When the pull is strong and the bond is unbreakable, rare cases of soulmates knowing each other’s names before they met is attainable.

A single name popped up into Bucky’s head, “Y/N.”

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staticscreenwriting · 4 years

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California Summer - B.H. Smut [one]

Synopsis: Kings Cove California is Billy Hargrove’s hometown. It’s also a popular summer vacation destination for rich couples and their spoiled kids. (Y/N) is one of those rich girls. Proper, sweet, innocent. Only that all bores her to death and Billy is just the adventure she’s been looking for. It’s all fun and games. A summer fling. Not strings attached. Right?

Inspired by the songs “dreaming of you” and “Kiss it off me” by Cigarettes After Sex.

A/N: This is smut, babes. Filthy. I will sit in the shame cube after I post it. Please if that is not fore you, don’t read it. Also do not interact if you’re under 18, that’s just not cool. Kay, thanks ♥

Might fuck around and make this a series.

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

There’s something about California summers, Billy thinks, thank makes them special. They’re hot and sticky and messy but they’re also exciting and exhilarating. The world seems to be dusted in a perpetual golden glow and days seem endless and full of possibility.

Maybe that sentiment is what brings all the tourists to the little coastal town of Kings Cove, California. A town caught between the undeniable charm of an old sleepy coastal town and the ever-expanding demand for tourist-friendly beach houses in gated communities where rich people can relish in the charm the town brings and then piss off once their vacation days are over.

Billy was born here, raised here until he was 17 and shipped off to forge his path in shitville Indiana. He was miserable then, but a shadow of himself. Angry and sad and overwhelmed by emotions he never learned to properly deal with. Singers and artists always seem to find something poetic about being young and angry and lost. Truth is: there’s nothing poetic about it, nothing romantic or desirable. It’s hard and it kills you slowly. Starting with your heart and then taking over every part of you, slowly but surely.

Soon as he turned 18 and was handed his High School diploma, Billy packed all his belongings into the Camaro and was off. The drive back to California, back home, it felt cleansing. Like a rebirth. A return to life at his own terms.

He got out. He survived. This, Billy is sure, he would always pride himself with no matter how trivial it may seem to anyone else. He got out. Not completely whole. Severely bruised. He got out with a heart so scared he’s sceptical it will ever fully heal. But he got out.

Though coming home didn’t come without its hardships and obstacles. There was nothing waiting for him here but a bunch of questions and an uncertain future. Finding a job, a place to stay, a point from which to start — it was hard. It still is hard. But he’s trying his best.

Kings Cove has a handful of restaurants, some convenience stores, a gym, a few bars, a drive-in, a normal cinema and a bowling alley. It’s really nothing spectacular and yet it seems there’s more and more tourist making it their temporary home in the months between May and September. It started about 5 years ago, that the town started changing with the increase in tourism. They bulldozed the playground Billy always played at, the one closest to the beach and built a bunch of fancy-ass houses and condos and a fucking Starbucks. It pains him to see it. To watch the town he loves so much, the one that holds so much charm, turn into a sandbox for rich people to shape and turn and make it something it isn’t. Something empty and lifeless.

The good thing about those tourists though, is that they are really really rich. Absolutely filthy rich. The kind of rich where they don’t know what to do with their money so you can charge them insane prices for ordinary things.

And that’s what the locals have started doing. A scoop of ice cream used to be 30ct, now it’s a dollar. You gotta bend with the world. You gotta adapt. Surviving means changing even if it sucks ass.

When he first arrived back, Billy had no idea how to navigate this place with all its changes. He felt so god damn out of place in his own home. That’s until he reconnected with Johnny, an old friend from middle school. A kid who grew up in a home filled with anger and sadness just as Billy did. Someone who understood. Someone who understands.

Johnny had it all figured out, adapted and changed. Got Billy a job at the maintenance business he works at. Fixing rain gutters and mowing lawns and cleaning driftwood off the sections of private beach belonging to the beach houses. It’s not the greatest job in the world but it’s alright and it pays good money and sometimes Billy even gets to hang out at the houses when the rich people are out taking surf lessons or doing a wine tasting a town over or try their luck on a god damn banana boat.

Kings Cove is small and the locals know each other. They’re a community tightly bonded through their shared disdain for the change their beloved town went through and the knowledge that though they can’t change anything, they can at least make the vacationers pay big money for everything.

It’s his second summer now and most of the families whose houses he tends to he’s already familiar with. You don’t forget the people who tip you 50 bucks each time. On Mondays, Billy cares for the Millers’ backyard. On Wednesday he makes sure the Callaghans’ pool is clean and still stinks of way too much chlorine. On Thursdays, it’s the Franklins’ estate that needs tending to. And weekends? Those are off.

Weekends mean he gets to enjoy the California summer himself. He goes out to the beach just after sunrise, to catch a few waves or just hang out in the ocean and let it wash away the stress resting on his shoulders from a whole week of hard work. Later, much later, when the sun is about to set, the real fun begins. There’s a bonfire almost every week. No one is ever quite sure who starts it and no official invitations are ever spoken though everyone knows and sure enough, every Saturday a crowd of young people gather by the driftwood pile and hang out and drink and dance as the bonfire crackles on.

It’s not just locals either. There’s always a few stray tourists there. Billy isn’t really all that interested in getting to know them. This is just a blip on their radar. A temporary adventure. But to him this place is home and he’s so fucking tired of these rich kids coming around and acting like they own the place. He’s the first to admit though, that the girls are quite hot and he doesn’t mind a little fling here and there without the fear of having them want anything permanent, knowing their time together comes with an expiry date. They can be quite fun and they’re so willing to let themselves fall into an intimate adventure with a local.

There’s no chase, no effort from him. The only annoying thing is they usually don’t grasp the idea of a summer fling and get clingy to the point where it becomes frustrating.

It’s a bonfire like any other, when his eyes drift across the beach, filled with people mingling all clutching a bottle or a cup. Nothing feels different or spectacular or special. But maybe that’s the thing about special moments — we don’t realise they’re special until we look at them in retrospect. And then they mean everything.

His eyes meet hers across the way. There are no fireworks. His heart beats at a normal rate. Whatever the movies and the songs try to sell you, that’s not how it really happens. Your world won’t shift and there will be no hummingbirds going wild in your stomach. It’s just a glance, a flicker. A moment that seems to hold no significance at all.

Billy can tell she’s not from here. Her outfit says it all. She’s wearing a long flowy skirt and a white tank top and some denim jacket over it that looks like it probably belongs to some boy with a trust fund and a name like Kyle or Charles. In her hair, there’s a clip with a fake flower on it. She looks expensive and fancy and like a piece of work that he’s not willing to put any effort in. He bets the guy beside her, the one that keeps playing with her hair. The one in the polo shirt. That’s probably her boy. His dad owns a boat for sure and probably fucks his secretary.

And even though he pulls his eyes away, he can feel his thoughts drift back towards her. As if some magnetic force tries to keep his mind there, with her. On the way she smiles, or how the wind blows through her hair and makes them looks messy and disorderly and — hot. On how he wants to be the one making a mess of her. He wonders what she feels like, tastes like, sounds like. Even Billy can’t deny he wants her. She’s just his type though something tells him she’s different from his other flings. There’s something deeper in her eyes. A secret he wants to unravel. It’s hidden there and it’s screaming out to him and only him.

As he turns back towards her, he sees her looks straight back at him. With those eyes full of secrets and that smirk on her lips.

Maybe his heart does beat a little faster then. Though he’ll never admit it.

That night he goes to bed and dreams of her and the beach and California.

California summers come with heat but they also come with thunderous storms. Mighty and unforgiving and rough.

Billy makes his way down the roads of Kings Cove, windshield wipers just about dealing with the heavy rainfall as it drums down onto his car window.

“ It’s the wrath of all women scorned and mistreated “ his mother used to say when he was younger and a storm washed over them. He always thought that was silly. Women aren’t thunderstorms, they’re April showers. They’re sunshine on your skin. They’re dewdrops on the lawn.

It’s so dull and gloomy he almost doesn’t see her. Only the peach coloured baseball cap makes her stand out against the grey. She’s slowly walking along the side of the road, unbothered by the downpour. Casual and relaxed as if she’s not getting soaked right this moment. There’s a Slurpee in her hand, blue raspberry.

He wants to drive past and no let himself be bothered with it. This, she, it’s not a mess he needs to get involved in. This can only end in a disaster. Rich boys don’t like you picking up their girlfriends. Rich boys also don’t like you lusting after their girlfriends. And rich boys who see you as a threat can get your ass fired real fucking quick.

And yet he pulls up to the curb and rolls down the window. “ Do you need a ride? “.

She smiles at him, the same way she did that night at the beach in the glow of the bonfire. Her lips are cherry red and for a second he wonders what they taste like. It’s like a primal desire, to taste her. To have her. God, he’s such a guy.

“ Need? No. I’d like one though.”

It’s the first time he hears her voice. It sounds so proper, so innocent. And yet there’s an edge to it. She’s all riddles and mysteries and things he wants to unpack and unravel. Something tells him all the red and the ribbons are only the outermost layer of who she really is. And wouldn’t he like to see more of her?!

“ Get in then,” he instructs with the nudge of his head. A gust of wind follows her as she opens the door and slides into the car. She smells of sunscreen and salt and artificial raspberry flavour. She smells like summer.

“ I’m Billy. “

“ I know. “

That catches him off guard. Sure he knows the locals and some of the kids whose parents he works for but that’s about it. He’s not nearly as prolific as he used to be in Hawkins. He’s a bit more mellow now if he can say so himself.

“ And you are?”

“ (Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N). You tend to our beach house on Tuesdays. I saw you clean our pool the other day”.

That’s news to him. The fact that the (Y/L/N)s have a daughter. He thought it was only her parents alone in that big house in some attempt to rekindle the fire of their marriage. Last year it was only them two, he could swear.

“ Is that so? I could’ve sworn it was just your parents in that house. “

“ Was just them last year, I was in New York City last summer. This time they decided to bring me. Let me enjoy the California sun. “

“ So you enjoying it? “

“ Verdict is still out but I quite like the view yeah. “

The teasing edge in her voice does not get lost on him. If Billy Hargrove is good at one thing, it’s realising when a girl is flirting with him.

“ You watching me then? What does your little boyfriend think about that, huh?”

“ Boyfriend? “ she sounds almost offended at those words, spits it with a certain malice that takes Billy by surprise. “ You mean Dawson? “

Dawson. Of course, that’s his name. Fucking Dawson. Dawson with the swoopy hair and the polo shirt. Dawson with the trust fund. Dawson with the DUI and the state attorney dad. Dawson with the scholarship.

“ Dunno his name.”

“ He’s not my boyfriend. He’s a friend that’s a boy that thinks if he waves around his money I’ll spread my legs for him. As if I don’t have my own money. It’s so unsexy it makes my pussy dry as the Serengeti.”

Billy has to stop himself from pushing the brakes too hard. It’s not something he has expected her to say. Not this outright at least. Something about her brashness and her honesty is truly charming though. It’s endearing for sure.

“ Wearing his jacket though, poor guy thinks he’ll score soon enough.”

“ Eh. Maybe I’ll let him. I’m getting a bit bored. If nothing better comes along— “ she says it casually and shrugs her shoulders but Billy swears there’s an open end to that sentence. Almost like an invitation.

“ Hope pretty boy does it for you then. So — where to? “

She faces him, peach baseball cap on her head and cherry smile on her lips. “ See, the thing is that my parents aren’t home right now and I don’t have a key so … “

“ So...? “

“ Just wanna hang somewhere until they get home tonight. Maybe somewhere dry? “

Everything in him screams at him not to do it. Not to get tangled up in this. He knows, god he knows, this is a bad idea and yet he says it anyway.

“ Do you wanna chill at my place? “

She bites her lips then takes another sip from her Slurpee. “ Yeah, sounds good to me.”

God Billy, you are such a dumbass.

Billy’s apartment is small but he feels more at home here than he ever did in any house he shared with his father.

There’s an open kitchen/living room area, a bathroom and his bedroom. It’s not much but it’s his and that makes all the difference.

“ Well uh — this is my place. “

He almost expects to see some kind of disdain on her face, disappointment too maybe. She’s used to big fancy houses with white shutters and stucco ceilings. Though when he turns to look at her there’s none of it. Just curiosity. No judgment. Not even a tiny spark. Not even at all.

“ It’s nice. Do you uh — I’m soaked. Do you have a shirt or something you could give me?”

It’s now, that he lets his eyes travel down her body, and notices her shirt clinging to her body. She’s not wearing a bra and it’s painfully obvious and he swears he dies in that moment. There’s only so much a guy’s heart can take.

“ Uh. I — mmh.”

As if his body works on autopilot, Billy hurries towards his bedroom and rummages through his closet until he finds a shirt that’s even baggy on him and will surely work for her. God, seeing her in his clothes is gonna give him another little heart attack.

“ Here you g — “ she’s naked. Not completely but her shirt and jeans are gone and all she’s in is a pair of red underwear and no bra and some socks and that damn peach baseball hat.

“ Huh? you never seen a pair of tits before? “

“ No, I have. “

“ Good. “

“ Yeah. Here “

She smirks as Billy hands her the shirt, doesn’t break eye contact. Not even once and she slips if over her head and almost drowns in the fabric. It reaches down to mid-thigh and she looks glorious. Wet hair clinging to her skin, shirt covering everything but just barely. Bily is usually suave and charming and smooth. Why not now? Why not with her? What is it about this girl that she plays his games better than he does it himself.

“ You want something to eat? “

What the fuck, Billy. There’s a half-naked girl in your kitchen and you’re asking her if she wants food? What is going on?!

“ Sure, what’ve you got? “

“ Lemme see — “ Billy says and turns towards the kitchen cabinets and (Y/N) slides up and sits down on the island. Her ass must be flush on the counter and Billy has to stop himself from following that thought any further because that would result in a serious hard-on right now.

“ So I got some Nachos aaand — “ he says and squats down to open a lower cabinet, “ I think there’s guacamole somewh— “

A soft thump interrupts him and, as he realises what’s caused the sound, his heart drops straight down into his pants and his whole body goes hot. Like his entire system is going haywire.

His hand reaches out to take the flimsy red fabric into his hand. Her underwear. This has crossed flirting long ago. This is an obvious invitation and if this was any other girl or any other situation he’d already be balls deep inside her so why not now?

As Billy turns to look at her, the teasing smirk is back, her eyebrow is raised in a way that tells him she’s challenging his next move, and the secrets are back sparkling in her eyes.

“ Oops “ she says though he can tell she’s all but sorry.

“ What are you doing? You have a boyfriend. “

“ Uuuugh ” (Y/N) moans in annoyance, “ I told you, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a boy who doesn’t get it. I have a lot of boys in a lot of cities who all do not get it. They think because they’re rich and their parents have influence, everyone has to do as they wish. They’re not used to not getting what they want and I like to see ‘em get pissy once they realise they can’t have me. Billy those guys — they are so boring. So dull and if I have to listen to one more lecture about politics or their scholarship or how their daddy helped finance the university’s library I am going to off myself. “

“ So what role do I play in this game? You’re just a rich girl who’s bored with her suitors then, huh? What am I ? “

“ Exciting. You are different. You are you, no ifs or buts. You are your own person not a clone of your wealthy father and his even wealthier father. You are exciting and so. fucking. hot. “

Billy doesn’t notice it happening but suddenly he’s so close he can feel her breath on his skin. She’ so close. So close. All he has to do is reach out and grab her. Touch her. Kiss her. Taste her.

“ Fuck me.”

“ You sure? “ he murmurs, voice low and deep and soothing. “That’s all this is gonna be. Sex and fun and nothing serious. “

“ Just fun. No strings. I’ll leave at the end of the summer anyway. Until then we can — explore. “

“ Explore? “

“ Mmh. There’s so much we can do.“

“ Sounds good to me. “

Billy doesn’t give her time to reply before his lips descend on hers. She doesn’t taste like cherries or chapstick or sugar. She tastes cold and like fake raspberry slushy. Billy thinks it’s his favourite flavour now.

His hands wander up and down her sides and hers get tangled in his curls, combing through his hair and tugging slightly. She’s breathing deep, quick breaths as his lips make their way across her neck and down towards her boobs. He bunches the shirt up and pulls it over her head leaving her naked on his kitchen counter. She’s absolutely fucking breathtaking and his jeans are getting awfully tight around the front.

“ You’re so hot “ he murmurs against her skin as he buries his head in the crook of her neck. Her skin is flushed and there’s a cute red tint to her cheeks. Maybe he was wrong about it on all accounts. Maybe she’s not as innocent as he has first thought.

Her fingers slip down his body and straight into the front of his jeans, grabbing his dick and squeezing his hard on softly. Yeah, she’s definitely not as innocent as he had first thought.

It’s a clash of teeth and a tongues and a lot of saliva. This is messy and raw and rough and he feels like he’s died and gone straight to heaven. With every second, his lips wander a little further down her hot skin, placing kisses one every inch he can reach until he’s kneeling in front of her. Her eyes lock on his as she spreads her legs further letting him see just what he’s been lusting after since the first moment he’s laid eyes on her. He feels like a man starving being presented with an all you can eat buffet.

Their eyes lock as his lips kiss the spot where her abdomen meet her thighs. It’s not where she wants him but it’s enough to make her go fuzzy in the head.

“ I’ll make you forget about all those rich fuckboys, baby.”

And he does. God, he does. As soon as he licks at her clit she can’t recall a single name of any other boy she’s ever met. He devours her like he was born to do nothing but eat a girl out. There’s kisses followed by kitten licks followed by more kisses. It’s driving her crazy, the way he flicks his tongue.

(Y/N) lifts her leg to rest on his shoulder as her hand reaches down burying herself in his hair. The way she tugs, the slight pangs of pain, it’s delicious. Billy can’t get enough of it. He adds a finger, then two, slowly in and out, the faster, then even faster. He knows she’s close by the way she throws her head back, bites her lips. Her lipstick is everywhere, her hair clings to her skin now from sweat instead of rain. She’s a mess and he’s so proud of getting her to this point. He further spreads her lips, lapping up the wetness, sucking at her clit, making her come undone right there on his kitchen counter.

The moans that fall off of her lips are almost pornographic, he wonders if her parents know the kind of activities she gets up to when they’re away. He bets they don’t. She’s a princess at home. Nice and proper. A princess who spends her free time getting fucked by their poolboy.

Billy pulls away at the last minute which (Y/N) really doesn’t enjoy. She pouts at him, gives him a sound of pure dismay. “ Why did you stop? “ she questions, voice breathy, almost incoherent.

“ Cause I wanna feel you cum when I fuck you. “

He’s not usually this bold and brash. Girls like lovely words. They like soft voices and hushed whispers and for boys to say nice things during sex. Not her. She wants the dirt and the mess and the honesty.

(Y/N)’s hand finds its way back to his crotch, pulling down the zipper of his jeans and freeing his solid boner.

“ No boxers? “ there’s a glimmer of mischief playing in her eyes.

“ You complaining? “

“ Fuck no. I’d suck you off but I want you inside me — like right now. “

Billy only nods, before fumbling a condom from his wallet and pulling it down his cock. He shares her sentiment. All he wants to be right now, is inside her.

Rough hands grab her hips and turn her around before pushing her down. Her boobs as flush against the counter, ass on full display. She’s a sight for sore eyes. A masterpiece.

Billy can’t keep his hands off her ass. He has to grab a handful, squeeze it, caress it. There’s boob guys and butt guys and then there are guys like Billy who know that both those features are mutually phenomenal and to limit yourself by choosing one or the other is a move only a fool would make and he ain’t no fool.

Billy lines himself up at her slit. He can’t wait to feel her around him, wet and warm and throbbing and —

“ What are you waiting for? “ she grunts, impatience clear in her voice and she tries to wiggle her ass closer to him.

“ Patience, baby.” Billy instructs as he grabs onto her hips and pulls her even closer. Her skin is so soft, so perfect. There’s a primal desire in leaving his marks of passion there so he leans over and places little love bites on her shoulder. They’ll be easy for her to cover up with a shirt but he’ll know they are there and that’s all that matters to him.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he trails his erection up and down her entrance, coating it in her arousal. He’s really not looking forward to clean this mess later on but right now it’s damn worth it by the way she’s trembling and wiggling underneath him, desperate for some stimulation.

“ Patience is not a word I know, sorry “ she’s so god damn desperate it almost makes him cum before he even gets a fuck in.

“ Yeah me neither. “

With those words he sinks into her and it feels heavenly. Engulfed by her warmth, her wetness, her passion. Quite frankly, he’s convinced, there’s no better place to be in the entire world, than buried in the pussy of a pretty girl.

Billy moves his hips slowly, deliberately, set a rhythm and a pace. He watches his cock disappear inside of her then slide back out in a delicious cadency as he dings his fingers into her hips, surely leaving bruises.

The moans tumbling from her lips are almost pornographic though he can tell they’re real and honest. There’s no reason for her to fake anything. He’s pretty sure she’d set him straight if he was doing something wrong.

“ more. “ she gasps, breath hitching as she pushes back against him, taking him even deeper. This girl is a dream if he’s ever seen one.

Billy speeds up his movements, slamming into her at a faster pace, pounding her against the counter. The air is hot and both of them are so sweaty and the room smells of sex and salty ocean air. God, he loves California summers and pretty girls.

There’s a fire lit in his lower abdomen as she whimpers and arches her back off of the counter. Billy lifts one hand off of her hips and grabs onto her front, caressing her soft tits and pulling her upright so her back is flush against his chest. The sheen of sweat covering them makes it hard to figure out where one of them ends and the other begins. Right then, they are one. Her peach colored baseball cap falls off of her head and onto the floor, where the rest of their clothes lie discarded.

His hand desperately moves across her chest, squeezing and teasing and trailing fingers around her nipples, hard from arousal.

“ Oh fuck yes. “

The confirmation that he’s doing something right, that he’s making her feel good, makes Billy’s ego grow 3 sizes. He’s such a sucker for validation.

He snaps his hips faster, harder, tries to go deeper. His hand grabs onto her thigh and lifts it up so her knee is resting on the counter letting him fuck her at a whole new angle.

At the way she cries out in ecstasy he knows he’S doing something extremely right. “God, right there. “ she almost sobs. Billy’s sure she’s biting her lip so hard it must be close to drawing blood.

Billy buries his head in her messy hair, softly traces kisses and love bites up and down her neck, tugs on her earlobe with his teeth. “ Yeah? Your pussy is a dream, baby. A fucking dream.” he grunts, voice laced with lust.

“ I’m gonna cum, Billy. “

He can tell, by the way she trembles, clenches around him. By the way her breathing hitches. And he’s right there with her.

There’s a fire pulsing through him, shockwaves rippling. It bubbles in his abdomen then boils over. With every snap of his hips the movements get more arrhythmic, messy, uncoordinated, desperate

A bunch of expletives fall from her lips but Billy can hardly make them out as his own orgasm washes over him. It feels like time slows and every sound disappeared into a white static. Nothing matters then but to chase that high and catch it and get some sweet release.

Billy feels her cum around him, squeezing him tightly in the process. The way she moans his name, as if it’s both a secret and a confession to himself and the world, that’s what does it for him.

Grabbing her hips with both hands, he holds her in place, before pounding into her with a few last uncoordinated hard thrusts. And then his vision goes black for a moment and his brain stops functioning as he cums into the condom.

For a moment there’s no sound but them trying to catch their breath as they slump down against the counter, spent from the activities. Sweaty, filthy, messy. But oh so satisfied and content.

Billy pulls out of her and for a second he misses her warm and tight around him. Like he was meant to stay there forever. Fuck, he’s such a guy.

Another heartbeat passes and (Y/N) lets out a melodic but breathless giggle. “ I could go for some Nachos and Guac right now. “

This girl is really something else.

They devour the snacks while lazing on his couch. Naked as they came to this earth, unbothered. Maybe this is what makes him go so absolutely feral about her, the fact that she’s so uncomplicated. Yeah she comes with all kinds of warning signs and bad news for him but being with her like this it’s so easy. Like they’ve been some kinds of friends for a long time.

Their bodies are always touching in one way or another. As if they can’t get enough. Billy’s sitting on the couch, feet resting on the coffee table while her legs are places on his lap, cigarette dangling from her fingers. The air is sticky and humid and even the late afternoon breeze doesn’t bring any cooling-off.

As his eyes fall onto the clock on the wall, Billy lets out a frustrated grunt. “ Fuck.”

“ What’s the matter?”

“ I’m supposed to meet my friend Johnny at the gym in about 10 minutes. Totally forgot about it. “

“ Do you have to go? “

“ I really should. “

“ You’ve had quite the workout today though. “

Billy scoffs a laugh at her words before plucking the cigarette from her fingers and taking a drag. He lets the smoke sit in his chest for a moment, hoping to capture even a bit of the warmth he felt when buried balls deep inside her cunt.

It doesn’t work.

“ He’s waiting for me. “

“ Aw, that’s too bad. “ she says grabs the cigarette back and, after one last drag, then stubs it out in the ashtray resting on the coffee table. “ I was just about to ask for a round two. Guess I’ll have to do it by myself then. That’s fine. “

Her fingers trail down her body, teasing her nipples before descending towards her slit. She slowly circles her clit. Billy is honesty sure she’ll be the death of him. This girl is so sweet yet so dirty and he’s not sure he’s ever met someone like her.

“ You gonna sit there and finger yourself on my couch ? “

“ You gonna sit there and watch and not join in? Come on Billy, I can give you quite the workout. No gym necessary. Do I have to beg? “

Yes. God he wants to hear her beg but that makes him feel a bit — uneasy. He doesn’t want her to think he doesn’t want this just as much as she does. Maybe they can leave the begging for another day.

“ You’re insatiable, huh? “ he asks as he settles himself on top of her, lips colliding with hers ina fiery kiss.

(Y/N) just nods, a satisfied moan slipping from her lips as his fingers nudge her hand away and replace them softly trailing up and down her slit, slipping inside every once in a while.

“ What can I say? It’s a bad habit I just can’t seem to quit.”

Maybe this is a really bad idea. Maybe he’s getting himself into more trouble than he needs right now. But the way she feels and sounds and taste make it worth it.

As the sun sets upon the horizon and the summer storm has long passed on to another coastal town, Billy thinks that it’s so worth it if only he can feel like this for the rest of the summer.

There’s really nothing quite like a California summer and a pretty girl with a dirty mind.

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove fanfics #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things smut

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bitchassbackup · 3 years

Text

Twined: A Soulmate AU

Word count: 1,580

Warning/s: Mentions of death

A/N: Hey lovelies <3 @honeyvbarnes and I worked on this Soulmate AU and we hope that y’all like it! I loved working with my bff and we’ll do it again hopefully <3 enjoy!

Bitchassbucky’s Masterlist

Honeyvbarnes’s Masterlist

When Bucky Barnes died back in 1943, he died knowing that he lived his life without a soulmate.

A bit sadistic, Steve Rogers would say. But Bucky would always counter his friend’s point with, “you see, Stevie when your soulmate gets hurt, you’re the only one who can hear them– at least in your head– and you can help them, you can help them find you,”

“Still, I don’t want someone to suffer just to make a connection with me,” Steve said, ever a gentle-hearted (but strong-headed) person.

“They’re not gon’a. Annoyance is enough for them to create a short connection,”

“What I’m hearing is that I get a pass for annoying you more,”

—

It’s hot. Searing. Humid. The air is so thick, you can almost choke on it.

The beach is filled with people– couples and families mostly and your mind wanders to soulmates.

You never had one and as far as you’re concerned, you’re better off without one.

They never let you in and it seems like they will never let you in.

Not now and not ever especially since the torment of nightmarish inner turmoil had subsided; granted, there are still some night terrors but it doesn’t compare to the pain you felt back then.

You started thinking maybe they were in the army or something of that sort.

Maybe, maybe. What if, what if

That’s your inner turmoil; the boiling water inside the pot.

You weren’t sure where to start looking for them– you spent years trying to get through but you never get as much as a word.

So you gave up.

And not a lot of people give up on their soulmates, at least not the ones who never had to spend literal years of their lives trying to coax out a word out of their loved one.

You wanted to give them warmth not knowing that they dislike the heat.

—-

One fateful summer day changed that though.

—

As Sam Wilson finished packing the car with what he calls ‘beach essentials’, Bucky Barnes had his mind a thousand miles away.

Bucky decided not to answer the question.

—

Giving it a quick thought and then glancing at the beach’s showering station, you decided against splashing around. This is more of a reading day for you.

—

“Ow, what the–” Bucky instinctively put up his arm to protect his eyes when a breeze flew past them, “something’s in my eye.”

—

Fuck.

Fuckity-fuck.

Your eye has been invaded by sand and it feels like it’s scratching your cornea raw. You can think straight, you’re in pain albeit minimal, it’s still pain.

You try to scramble for the bottle of water you kept close for hydration, hoping it will be enough to put you out of your misery, washing out the sand.

—

“Something’s definitely in my eye, Sam, I feel it,” Bucky tries not to squirm so much under Sam’s touch, but the pain feels almost invisible, like it’s not his.

—

Then you feel that magnetic pull again. Stronger this time.

You suddenly remembered the lores and the tall tales of the universe pulling soulmates together, literally, if they were close enough to each other. You try your best not to walk to your left side as the pull dictates.

—

“I just- I gotta check something out,” He said, not knowing where his feet are taking him.

—

You feel your skin prickle as you try not to look behind you. You’re familiar with the tales, the personal anecdotes, how it feels to be pulled towards your literal soulmate.

Bucky just stands in the sand, his eyes not wandering too far from where you’re standing, your back behind him.

Is this it? Is this his soulmate?

What if you hate him? What if you don’t want to be with him?

Bucky’s heart quickens with the thoughts, his anxiety riddles his brain as he tries to come up with something to call you.

When the pull is strong and the bond is unbreakable, rare cases of soulmates knowing each other’s names before they met is attainable.

A single name popped up into Bucky’s head, “Y/N.”

#bitchassbackup

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leiascully · 4 years

Text

The Wong End of the Telescope

By @agirlcalledNarelle: submission for Angst fic exchange in Apr 2020. Prompt was ‘Mulder and Scully on the run angst’! Trigger warning: suicide reference, disordered eating. How did Mulder & Scully end up in the UH?

6,8K words. Here on AO3

Cotton candy pink grazed the tops of the darkened hills. It was the hour of magical thinking, when dreams fuse with reality and imaginary adventures are tethered once more by the earth’s physical laws. Scully pulled up at a trailer park, her eyes on the dirt track in front of her rather on the hills above. The energy of the hour moved around her like the parted Red Sea. Mulder stirred beside her, stretching his arms over his head, and wiped spittle from the side of his mouth.

‘Where are we?’ His voice was hoarse from sleep. He looked at her in a daze, so boyish and trusting, having slept for the last seven hours. She wanted to reach over and stroke his warm, pink cheek, but instead she sat on her hands and stared outside.

‘Crockett, Texas.’

‘Why?’

‘Sun was coming up,’ she answered tersely. ‘It meets the criteria, and we’ve been on the go for over 12 hours.’

The sky was now a cloudless blue. Dry air promised a hot day ahead. Their last town had been in flat and endless prairie country. Scully had ached to see mountains, the hodgepodge of nature competing for survival, so she subconsciously delivered them to a town surrounded by hills in the neighbouring national park. She used to like arriving. She would enjoy discovering what made each town tick, uncovering their customs and values, until she realised every place was the same in that they would one day leave it behind.

The door to the trailer park reception opened and a dishevelled woman eyed them suspiciously.

‘We don’t open til 7,’ she called, her features distorted with annoyance. ‘Y’all will just have to wait til then.’

Scully looked at her watch: it was 6:55am. Mulder opened his mouth to speak, but Scully got there first.

‘That’s fine, we can wait. Thanks for letting us know.’ She attempted a smile, but it sat foreign on her lips. The woman said nothing and closed the door.

‘It’s only five minutes, Scully,’ Mulder muttered, kicking the gravel. ‘I’m sure she could have sprung us a key.’

‘What’s the point in drawing attention to ourselves?’ Scully replied sharply. ‘We just got here. I don’t want to have to leave before we’ve even had breakfast because you’ve gone and made yourself all memorable. We’re living by your rules, you know.’

Yesterday, she had returned to their trailer to find Mulder urgently packing the car. Gotta move, he had said. The Sheriff had come into the store where Mulder worked stacking shelves, and Mulder didn’t like the way he’d answered the Sheriff’s innocent questions. Felt there was too much room for scrutiny, and he got his feeling. The feeling when someone looked at them for too long or asked too many follow up questions. Before she’d had a chance to shower, they were leaving town.

At precisely 7am, the sign on the door of the lodge switched from Closed to Welcome! We’re open. Scully paid in cash for a week while Mulder sulked by the car. She left him to carry in the bags while she entered the stuffy trailer in search of the bed.

She found work a café off a main road which offered all-day breakfasts for the laborers, and milkshakes and relative privacy for the high schoolers. The first time Mulder had been a fugitive, the Lone Gunmen had set up a couple of bank accounts in different names for him to access. Now they were nearing the end of their second year on the run as a pair, and without the Gunmen’s help, they worked to supplement themselves. As Mulder liked to say, their opportunities dried up as quickly as the money in those accounts.

Ed, the manager, had thought Scully would be perfect for front of house. She preferred something along the lines of washing dishes and his expression revealed that it wasn’t the first time he’d received such a request. He’d looked her up and down and nodded slowly. Shift is 6am to 2pm, 6 days a week, Ed said daringly, you think you can handle that?

Scully filled up the sink on her first day when a boy entered, skinny, with mousy brown hair in need of a trim. He slipped an apron over his standard teen uniform of black jeans, band t-shirt and converse. She guessed he was 17, maybe 18 years old. He stopped still at the sight of her.

‘Who are you?’ His voice was both deep and weedy, still adjusting to itself.

‘Denise.’ Another of Mulder’s rules: keep the same initial. Easier to roll off your tongue. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Chet. I’m the morning waiter until 2pm, when Sasha’s in.’ He reached across her to wash his hands. It had been a while since someone other than Mulder has stood in such close proximity. Feeling crowded, she inhaled quickly and concentrated on tying her hair up. ‘You’re different to the last washer.’ Scully didn’t say anything. ‘You new in town? Did you just arrive?’

‘You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?’ Scully busied herself with the pots, and Chet took the hint. They didn’t talk for the rest of the shift.

‘Do you think it will work?’ Mulder asked when she returned 8 hours later, accompanied by the smell of cooking oil. The afternoon was caught under a bell jar, hot and still. Mulder was sprawled on the bed with newspapers spread in front of him, looking for any information that could potentially threaten them. Scully was sure that, should she ever ask him, he wouldn’t be able to articulate exactly what he was looking for.

‘It’s fine.’ She removed her shoes and sat on the end of the bed. Her feet were humming from the day’s work followed by the 3 mile walk back. ‘Same as that place in Burlington.’

‘Kansas?’

‘Sure.’ She crawled fully onto the bed and tucked her hand under the pillow, her back to Mulder.

‘Good. The more anonymous the better.’ Mulder pulled the papers from under her. ‘It looks like there are two local newspapers, but the most popular one here is USA Today.’

‘Well that’s a surprise.’

‘Whatever, Scully. I’m not doing this for fun.’ She felt him lie down next to her. The hairs on her back stood to attention, hoping he wouldn’t touch. The silence between them was a black hole, and Scully jumped right in.

‘I found work at a local motel. They’re renovating for Summer.’ Mulder said quietly after a few minutes.

‘Ok.’ Scully stayed on her side.

‘I stocked up at the store, so we don’t have to go for a little while. Do you want anything to eat?’

‘No.’ She closed her eyes against the daylight.

The mirror in the trailer was placed such that she could only see her shoulders up. Mulder had to crouch to see himself, and Scully very nearly had to stand on tiptoes. Before, this would have made her laugh.

Around her 40th birthday, she had gone through a phase of avoiding mirrors altogether, but now she studied her reflection with interest. Her pronounced clavicle snaked around the bottom of her neck like two thin arms buried under the skin threatening to strangle her. Feathery lines sat under her eyes from months of squinting at the road. Her cheekbones slid into shadowed gorges and levelled out to her soft chin, slack and furry with little hair. Freckles splattered like paint on a pale canvas. Grey dominated the natural auburn at her temples so that when she pulled her hair into a ponytail her mother’s face gazed back at her. The first time she saw the likeness she had gasped, remembering her father sitting next to her Christmas tree, little Emily asking to be set free in a wooden church. From then on, her hair was always down unless at work.

Mulder made her wear a baseball cap when she was out. If she dyed her hair, she was allowed to leave the cap at home. The idea of being anything other than a shade of red panicked her: this was her last thing. She was already hollowed out, a tinman pretending to have a heart. If she lost her hair colour, she felt she would finally rust over and be lost forever. What else did she have left?

Scully was scrubbing stubborn scrambled eggs from a large frying pan. The effort made her arm ache, and she felt slightly dizzy. Though they had shared fewer than 10 sentences since she started a week ago, she welcomed a break when Chet walked quickly into the kitchen.

‘Trade places with me,’ He said urgently. She looked at him properly for the first time. His head was ducked, chin covered in the duckling fluff of a teen too keen to prove his maturity. He was tall, she realised. She hadn’t realised how tall, given his movements were soft and quick. She wondered what his mother felt when she looked at him.

‘Why?’ She asked suspiciously. ‘I need to stay back here.’

‘Please, would you just do it for me?’ He pleaded. Scully scanned the room to see a table of girls laughing over their menus.

‘You want to avoid those girls?’

‘Something like that,’ Chet mumbled, cheeks flushed. Scully sighed and took the apron out of his hands, her palms sweaty with nerves. She took their order and found she had forgotten how to move her face. Her reactions felt too big, too staged. She tested her limits by taking another order from another girl sat by herself. When she returned to the kitchen, Chet had scrubbed off the remaining egg.

‘Thanks,’ he said gratefully.

‘I’m not going to do it again,’ she snapped, snatching the brush from his hands. He left, and she leaned against the sink, hating herself for snapping. After almost three years on the run, her ability to make connections was off. She wrapped her right thumb and middle finger around her left wrist, measuring its circumference. Her wrist didn’t touch the fingers, and she was pleased when she could circle her wrist freely their grip. The bubbles in the sink crackled as they burst, slowly revealing a yellow glob of egg.

She would wake before Mulder to get to the café on time. He slept soundly, in a way he never could previously, on his back with an arm over his head. The conspiracy hadn’t been enough: he needed to be fully consumed by something, eaten, removed from life as he knew it, before he found peace.

He was enjoying his current line of work. She could tell because he once described the paint brush gliding like a toboggan, or by his swagger as he removed his t-shirt after a day of manual labour. Previously he was all about exposing the designs of others; now he was the creator. He was proud of himself. She had picked a hangnail on her pinkie, dry from constantly being in water, as he told her a tale about some wood and nails. Or it might have been shelves and a spirit level. She hadn’t listened too closely, knowing that whatever he found here would last only as long as he felt safe. Soon the time would come when his house of cards would fall.

‘What are you doing here, anyway, Ms Denise?’ Chet asked her. He was standing in the doorway, at a loose end. Rain kept the breakfast regulars away. Scully’s wet ponytail was plastered down her back and her soaked t-shirt stuck to her leggings. Her hipbones, sharp and round like pin heads, pressed against the sink as she leaned over, missing the usual padding of a dry t-shirt. They would bruise by the end of the day.

‘What do you mean?’ She asked flatly. With no customers, she kept busy by dismantling and cleaning the fat fryer.

‘Just that.’ Chet helped her remove one of the baskets. ‘Why did y’all come to Crockett? To work in a café? What’s the story?’

‘No story. Just in need of a job.’

‘No story.’

‘Nope.’

‘You’re here just because you need a job. All on your lonesome.’

‘Yep.’ She popped the ‘p’ sound at the end.

‘My uncle had a friend who just turned up out of nowhere,’ Chet said. ‘Turns out he had two different families over in Louisiana. Weren’t long before he got sprung and had to go back. Now he’s awaiting trial for polygamy.’

‘So what?’ Her forehead suddenly prickled with sweat and she wiped it with her wrist. She met his gaze and held it in a silent threat.

‘Nothing’s never nothing, s’all I’m saying.’ Chet left to serve a customer, and Scully exhaled shakily. The oil mixed with the soap in the sink to create rainbows on the slimy surface. This kid was smart. A liability best kept to herself for now.

Scully ate an apple each morning as she meandered down the dirt roads to work, its crunch made louder by the darkness. She emptied her mind and savoured her surroundings, appreciating each ditch in the road, and the way a particular shrub resembled a sheep as she passed the ‘Welcome to Crockett!’ sign. Sporadic streetlights illuminated her solitary figure like the beacon of a lighthouse.

They had started out as crusaders, underdogs who would come out on top having prevented the end of the world. However, it was clear a few weeks in that without FBI resources, and the very real talents of the Gunmen, they were doomed to exist on the fringes of society, chasing wicker men. On their first night running she had told Mulder that she wouldn’t accept defeat if he didn’t, a memory that now makes her prickle with discomfort. That Scully is a high school student scribbling love hearts on her exercise books. That Scully doesn’t realise that unconditional love is actually anguish, pain, boredom, compromise, rage, sacrifice, not just sometimes but all the time until you’re so far in you can’t see where you stop and the other begins.

She used to feel like Mulder was the one holding the other end of the rope. But while they had been distracted buying cheap second-hand cars with high mileage, crossing state lines, eating store-bought sandwiches in the middle of the night, the rope had frayed and snapped. They each still had their end, but their futile attempts to mend it hurt so much that after a while, she just stopped trying.

‘Scully?’

My name, she thought idly as she swam from the depths of sleep. Not my never name, though. Not Dana. It’s my sometimes name. She tried to ignore it, but it repeated until she slowly became aware of her dull head, her dry mouth, of Mulder’s voice coaxing her back to him.

‘Mmmh?’ Forcing her eyes open, she saw Mulder sat on the bed. He didn’t touch her, she noted, and her shoulder shivered in the absence of his hand. The space in the trailer compacted with Mulder’s return. The walls closed in as he crossed the threshold and there wasn’t enough room for her. She could see his mind humming with thoughts, but not knowing what they were, she would feel like an intruder.

‘You’re asleep again.’ He said with a hint of accusation.

‘Mmmh.’ She closed her eyes and sighed. If she was lucky, she could fall back to sleep quickly.

‘I’ve brought food.’

‘What?’

‘I’ve brought food.’

‘Oh. I ate at work.’

‘That was 6 hours ago.’ She opened her eyes again. It was 8pm already? ‘You were sleeping when I came home at 6, and it looks like you’ve not moved.’

‘I took a sandwich home with me,’ Scully lied. ‘You woke me when you left again, I ate then.’

He met her eyes and she realised she couldn’t remember the last time they’d properly looked at each other. His face was worn. She spied blue paint by his ear. He hadn’t shaved in a few days. Like her, he had flecks of grey around his hairline, and his eyes seemed smaller among the creases of his cheeks. But there was energy coursing behind his irises. He can handle this, she realised enviously. This lifestyle suited him.

She shrank as he studied her in return. He had always been interested in her mind, had always valued her level-headed scientific approach. She knew he had found her beautiful at some point, but his true love affair was with her intellect. She counted on the fact that he wouldn’t ever really see her. She liked feeling invisible. But now he had noticed what she saw when she looked at her reflection.

‘Are you eating enough?’ His question landed heavily in her stomach. She circled her left wrist with her right fingers and twisted, drawing confidence from the gap.

‘Yeah.’ She avoided his eyes.

‘Are you sure, Scully?’

‘I told you, I already ate.’

‘You look thin.’

Scully fluffed her pillows and lay back down again. ‘It’s just from being on my feet all day. And the walk there and back.’

‘Do you need a ride there each day? I can get up earlier. I don’t want you –’

‘I’m fine, Mulder. Please.’ She rolled away from him, not caring that she was still fully clothed. She felt sleep stalking her in the periphery and prostrated herself ready for it to snatch her.

The first rule Mulder created was that they avoid being in public together, the net result being a lot of alone time for her when her shift finished. She was to go home straight away. He would pick up their groceries on his way home, comfortable with his own vulnerability, but he resisted her attempts at independence beyond what was absolutely necessary.

Every day the trailer was oppressed by afternoon heat. The air refused to move so it felt like she was wading through blankets. She would sleep the afternoons away, passing out so heavily that she felt drugged when she awoke, limbs heavy, clinging on to unconsciousness as her senses fired up. More than once, she thought she was still in her Georgetown apartment, and it took a few minutes to remember. She would try to wake up before Mulder came home, but recently that was proving more challenging.

Her bones were dragging.

‘Can you trade with me again?’ Chet arrived at her elbow. She instinctively took a step back. ‘Please?’

‘I told you the last time,’ Scully replied, ‘no. I need to stay here.’

‘Please. I can’t go out there.’ He sounded so desperate that she sighed and scanned the restaurant for the table of girls.

‘I don’t see those girls here,’ she said.

‘That group of girls? With the headbands and the lettermen?’ Chet scoffed. ‘No, not them.’

‘Then who?’ Curious, Scully couldn’t help but look again. She saw in the corner a small girl with brown hair to her shoulders reading a book. ‘That girl over there?’

Chet backed away, his cheeks blushing

‘Yeah,’ he sighed. ‘Amanda Jones.’

‘She seems nice?’ Scully asked, unsure of what to say.

‘She is nice.’ He ran his hands over his hair. ‘She’s super smart, and she really thinks about things. She’s not one of those girls you saw the other day…’

‘Those other girls don’t think?’ Scully bristled at Chet’s casual dismissal.

‘I don’t know if they do or not. But they’re not very nice.’ He paused, looking out at Amanda. ‘Please. I can’t go out there.’

Scully sized him up before holding her hand out for his apron. She remembered how teenage love teetered between affirming and soul destroying. The girl looked up and ordered a coffee with such self-possession that even Scully had to admit she was impressed.

Dana pulled up outside her mother’s dark house. It was 7pm and she was expected for dinner, but she was met with silence. Her mother’s purse was on the hall table. Shopping sat on the kitchen counters. There was a sweet, fermented smell of rotting fruit.

Professional instincts kicking in, she drew her weapon and checked downstairs before making her way upstairs. Her mom was on the bathroom floor, eyes closed and congealed blood at her temple.

‘Mom!’ Dana cried as she kneeled beside her. She patted her mother’s cheek urgently, and Maggie’s eyelids fluttered open. Relief washed over Dana and her arms shook as she moved.

‘Dana….’ Maggie whispered. ‘I fell….’

‘Mom, I’m gonna help you,’ Dana was unable to stop her voice from wavering. She held a damp washcloth against the side of her mother’s head. ‘When did this happen?’

‘Two days ago maybe… or three…I’m not really sure.’ Scully held a second wet, clean cloth to her mom’s lips for her to suck. ‘I couldn’t get to the phone…. I’ve been here for such a long time.’

Maggie closed her eyes and went limp. Dana felt her mother’s pulse weaken, and she screamed.

Scully sat bolt upright, throat wheezing as she desperately sucked in air. She panted, sweat rolling down her back as she held her hands out to orient herself. There was the bedside table. There was the side of the bed. There was Mulder, his strong back to her, snoring. Her mother was back at home, and Scully had to believe she was alive and well.

She slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Mulder, and sat on the steps outside. It was warm enough to sit in her t-shirt. She put her arms around her knees and lit a cigarette. She struggled to sleep past 2am these days.

Some nights she would reach around Mulder to wake him with her hands. She would take him in her mouth, and he would push her head until she gagged. Their bodies grew slippery together, and she would dig her nails into his back to gain traction as she sat on him, feeling him plunge into the cavernous depths of her. She would cry his name – his real name - in her throaty voice, the black night their only witness. It was always quick, vicious, and she rarely had her turn although she didn’t want that. She wanted to be entered, to be filled up. They wouldn’t speak after, but the next day there would be a new charge in the current between them which almost made the situation almost bearable.

Most nights, however, she would simply sit outside and smoke. She savoured her secret cigarettes, this tasty rebellion. The orange glow soared through the air like a grown-up sparkler.

The expanse of the stars made her mind spin as she gazed upwards. She remembered her childhood astronomy, spotting the Big Dipper and the Big Bear. She heard her father’s commentary. In these moments, Scully wondered if she was even really there. She might blow away on the wind’s currents, floating higher and higher until she was as far away as the stars. She felt like she was looking at life through the wrong end of the telescope.

The day in May came, around which all others moved, and she dragged herself to the café when all her instincts told her to stay in bed and spend the day remembering his gummy smile and the sound of his cry.

The day before, she had eyed a bottle of whiskey as she replenished her clandestine cigarettes on her way home but had ultimately decided against it. Throughout the years they had both tried to escape this day via alcohol. For her, it resulted shame and hazy memories of tear-soaked grief, Mulder’s clumsy hands holding her hair back as she vomited, raging against his strength as he tried to contain her. On his part, he turned inwards, growing snarky, mean and morose. He channelled his energy towards the cruellest insults which swirled in her head for months after. You call yourself a mother? You give him up and then claim to be a mother? You’re a selfish bitch, Scully, that’s what you are, and you have to live with that for the rest of your life.

At the café, she saw Chet hanging around her sink. Her heart sank when he smiled as she approached. She wasn’t sure she could handle him today.

‘Ms Denise!’ He greeted her enthusiastically. ‘I have news.’

Scully said nothing and turned the tap on. Chet wasn’t put off by her indifference, having worked with her for 7 weeks now and seen little else.

‘I was riding home from work yesterday and I saw Amanda had a puncture,’ his thin, reticulin fingers gesticulated as spoke, ‘so I helped her fix it, and we walked home together and had the best conversation. Turns out she’s reading '1984’, which is my favourite book. We both think it’s so clever, you know, how they reduce thought by altering language. Kinda like what’s going on now, all this war on terror talk. You know what I mean?’ He laughed to himself. ‘Man, I can’t believe she actually spoke to me.’

Scully shook her head slightly to refocus. She was bothered by something he said.

‘You love '1984’?’ She asked, looking directly at him. He had shaved his fluff but kept a small, patchy moustache on his baby face. His hair had greasy roots, and she wanted to tell him to take a shower. He was clean and musty at the same time. ‘How old are you, Chet?’

‘I’m 19. I’ll be 20 in October.’

‘Why aren’t you in college?’ She asked sharply. He raised his eyebrows cynically.

‘College? What college am I going to go to?’ He replied, voice squeaking. ‘You’ve seen this town, there’s no college here.’

‘You’re a smart guy.’ Scully seethed at the waste of his potential. ‘There are colleges nearby, with scholarships –‘

‘No, I’m just gonna work here, get some money behind me,’ Chet interrupted. ‘I’ve been talking to Ed, maybe one day I can take over this place.’

‘Chet, you can have bigger dreams than the local café for the next forty years,’ Scully was desperate to make this boy see the world was bigger than this. ‘You can do whatever you want.’

He shook his head slowly. ‘No, I can’t. I’m not that guy.’

‘Chet….’ She saw his face harden.

‘Anyway, what about you?’

‘What about me?’

‘What all are your dreams, why are you lecturing me about mine?’ His voice was raised, and Scully’s heart ticked like a metronome on the highest setting. She stepped back from the sink. This was too much attention. ‘You’re hiding something. You don’t wash your hands like a normal person. I reckon a doctor, or surgeon, someone who has to keep clean. And then there’s that cornfed guy working at the motel on the other side of town. Funny how he pops up same week as you, same accent as you, yet you don’t know nothing about anything. So who are you really, Ms Denise?’

He reeled, surprised at his outburst. Scully blinked back tears, her hands shaking as adrenaline bled through her. He reminded her so much of Mulder: observant, passionate, gentle, and he had her number. Yet this wasn’t her mini-Mulder. He was elsewhere celebrating this day with strangers, and she was in a kitchen in small town Texas. She heard waves crash in her ears.

‘I’m nothing,’ she muttered, and pushed past Chet. ‘Excuse me, I’m not feeling well.’

He called her name as she ran out the back door and threw up beside the bins. It felt good. Chunks of apple, half dissolved by acid, lay at her feet, and her teeth chattered. Chet appeared with a glass of water which she took gratefully. Her stomach churned as the water hit, but it stayed down.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. He stood next to her, unsure of what to do. ‘Today is a hard day.’

‘I can tell Ed you’re not well,’ Chet said awkwardly. ‘You should go… I can handle it today.’

It was mid-morning by the time she turned down the dirt road towards the trailer park. Mulder would have just left for work, and she wanted to crawl in bed and close off the day. She wasn’t sure what four-year olds were even like: she had a vague recollection of Matthew being into trains. She couldn’t imagine his hair colour, what his voice sounded like, whether he could count to twenty, or if he could do puzzles. She had no idea, and her ignorance of rudimentary childhood development made her feel worse.

On a whim, she ignored her thirst and walked past the trailer park entrance to the natural bushland at the end of the road, lured by the refreshing shades of green. The ground was covered in grass, with natural tracks running between the trees. Leaves and sticks scraped her ankles as she walked, and she soon found herself deep within the bushland, with only the track behind her for navigation.

She walked until her shin bones ached. Suddenly the path dropped away. The cliff was 40 feet or so and framed by the overhanging branches from the nearby trees. A creek ran through the lush valley at the base of the cliff. It looked so quiet, so unspoiled. She crept closer to the drop and looked down to see rocks directly below her. Standing tall, the breeze blew temptingly across her face and her toes crept over the edge. Then the balls of her feet. Her weight shift to her heels. She knew if she closed her eyes, her balance would falter, and who knew which way she would fall? The risk appealed. She felt dizzy. Reckless. Her hands opened by her side, her fingers stretching downwards to feel the breeze on her palms. She imagined feeling weightless.

A rustle next to her made her jump back, her natural instinct to survive proving to be stronger than her desperation to for everything to stop. She fell as she retreated, landing hard on her coccyx. The pain brought tears to her eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she heard herself cry. Her chest heaved twice, three times, as she inhaled to support more sobs. Pain dripped like mercury from her fingers. She gripped her hair by its roots and let out a huge scream which echoed around the valley as her rage tumbled out. It was a relief to finally feel something. A fox squirrel shot out from under the scrubland and stood still, eyeing her as she wept. It tilted its head and ran up a tree trunk. Her right fingers wrapped around her left wrist, and she twisted her wrist in the gap. Tears splashed on the rocks beside her.

When she got back to the motel, Scully stayed away from the bedroom. She drank three glasses of cold water and took her towel to lie on the grass outside of the trailer, enjoying the solid ground beneath her shoulder blades. Studying the leaves above her, she realised that she still had choices. She could decide things. She could identify her limits, but it came down to how much she was prepared to fight for herself. She was a hologram of the person she used to be, and she wondered if she even had the strength to stand up. Eventually she was lulled to sleep by the rhythmic lullaby of leaves in the breeze.

She woke when Mulder pulled up. Her sleep had been light, leaving her unusually refreshed. The importance of the day crashed on her chest once more, but she recognised a very, very slight shift in perspective: today could be about more than grief. What should I do with this, she wondered.

‘Scully?’ He approached her with caution, wearing his own memories of this day on his face. ‘What are you doing out here?’

‘It’s a nice day.’ She folded her towel and stood. ‘I just wanted to be outside.’

That evening, they sat outside with a beer to toast their son. They talked, though not about William. He was interested in her trip to the bushland. She told him about the sound the trees made, and the squirrel, but not how the whispers of the breeze had dared her to see if she really was immortal.

She had grown used to the smell of old cooking oil and grease. It seeped into her skin and her hair. Having been there for two and a half months, it smelled as much like home as anywhere had. Half-way through her shift one Tuesday morning, she asked for a plate of scrambled eggs, which the chef handed to her in surprise. Out back, past the bins, she found Chet on his break, and sat wordlessly beside him.

‘You taking a break today?’ He asked incredulously. ‘You never take a break.’

They had reached a truce after William’s birthday: he chewed her ear off about whatever he wanted, and she offered sparse but pertinent advice. Each day, he brought her some new piece of information about the youth of the town, and she found herself invested in spite of herself.

‘First time for everything,’ she replied, hoping she sounded light, carefree. The fork was awkward in her right hand, plate balanced on her lap. The eggs were yellow and solid; she sliced into them with the side of her fork. They felt like stones clogging her throat. Her mouth salivated as she ate. Scully tried to ignore how heavy the food felt inside her stomach and cleared her throat nervously. ‘Can I eat with you tomorrow too?’

‘Sure thing, Ms Denise.’ Chet balled up the paper from his bacon sandwich. ‘You don’t have to ask.’

She managed half her plate, and fought against the itch in her fingers, the urge to lock herself in the bathroom afterwards.

That afternoon, as she was leaving the Mom and Pop store, Chet and Amanda cycled past. He was in front, and he said something which made her throw her head back in laughter, her hair trailing behind like a mermaid. Scully felt a spark in her chest: a tiny flame, a burst of energy. She drew warmth from its glow.

They started to spend the warm evenings outside together, the fog between them slowly dissipating. She told Mulder about the legend of the Ozark Howler, a cat-like creature with horns and glowing eyes. It was said to be found in the Ozarks but there were sightings as far reaching as Texas too. Mulder’s core ignited with new folklore, curling himself towards her in his plastic chair. She presented tidbits of information to him like proud child. They found themselves in a discussion of whether it’s realistic for one cat-like creature to cover so much geography, or if it meant a growing species, and whether that contributed to or undermined its veracity. His eyes narrowed when he learned that Chet had told her about it. Careful Scully, his tone immediately changing, you don’t want to get too close. Keep your distance. She had smiled thinly, ruffled his hair, and walked back inside before he could see her tears because, for just a minute, she had forgotten and they had felt like a normal couple again.

‘Mulder?’ Scully approached Mulder as he lay on the couch in the tiny living room reading the papers. Three months in and she could see he was starting to twitch. It wouldn’t be long until he wanted to up sticks, and she wanted to get in first.

‘What’s up, doc?’ He smiled. She sat next to him and pressed her knees together. She had recently bought some dye to patch over her grey hairs. Her cheeks were starting to fill out with her daily plate of eggs, though she still couldn’t consider anything more solid without her palms sweating. She noticed he had started to look at her differently: he had stopped looking through her, and she felt herself take up more space.

‘Mulder…..’ She sighed and looked at the floor. ‘Mulder, I need to go home.’ She glanced up and saw shock, fear, pass over his face.

‘Go home?’ he repeated dumbly. ‘Scully, I can’t…. you know what waits for me there.’

Scully closed her eyes, not wanting to remember Mulder’s sentence: death by lethal injection. The danger had always been real, but somewhere along the way she had lost the sense of it as she had lost herself. With this request, she had to face it once more.

‘There must be a way,’ she said, her voice shaky. ‘Please. It’s… I’m …. I’m not doing well. I’m… vanishing.’

‘I know that Scully,’ he said in his crinkly voice that reached into the dark shadows of her. ‘I see you. I think you’re right, I think you may have reached the end of this road. But what choice do I have?’

‘There must be a way,’ she repeated, the lump in her throat making her voice thin and tight. ‘We can email Skinner. I don’t want to leave you. I hate the thought you being by yourself.’ She paused to compose herself and reached for his hand. ‘You’re good at this life. You know how to duck and weave. The threat gives you energy, purpose, as it always has. I see you too, you know.’

‘You’re my gal. You’ve always seen all of me.’ He kissed her knuckles. ‘I know you’re struggling. I don’t know the last time I saw you eat more than a banana. I wake in the night and you’re not there.’ She stiffened but made herself stay in the conversation. It was the first honest talk they’d had in months. ‘But can you give me some time? Just a little. Please, Scully. Let me get my head around it some more.’

‘Mulder….. There’s Matthew. My Mom.’ She hiccupped the last word, and to her frustration, started to cry, releasing the pressure in her chest. She wiped her eyes. ‘I mean, what is our plan here, exactly? Wait for an apocalypse that we’re powerless to stop? Well, I don’t want to welcome that one without my family. Or maybe it doesn’t happen, and we run for the next 20 years. Or do we draw the line at 30 years? And what happens if you fall from a ladder, or even just get tonsillitis?’

They sat in silence. Mulder had abandoned the newspaper, and Scully circled her wrist. There was still a sizeable gap and her satisfaction at this quickly turned to guilt.

‘Ok, Scully.’ Mulder said finally, exhaling heavily. ‘Let’s email Skinner. See if there are options.’

That Sunday they drove two hours out of town to a random internet café. Mulder set up an email account and then they sent Skinner a cryptic message. Mulder drove three hours in the opposite direction two days later to see his reply, and he didn’t let Scully come. Too conspicuous for both of them to miss a day of work, he’d reasoned. Scully had wanted to throw her coffee mug at the wall in frustration.

They hadn’t spent more than a work shift apart since 2002, and Scully was bereft as she waited. She dropped a stack of plates at work, and spent the afternoon peeking out of the trailer window at the sound of every car rumble. It felt like snakes had taken up residence in her stomach.

She was sat the small table in the kitchen when he returned, a plate of celery, carrots and hummus in front of her. She cried out with relief as she heard the car pull up and ran to hug him as he exited the car. His sweater was soft, and she remembered how solid she felt when her body locked against his.

Once inside, he handed her a printout from the now deleted email account. Scully scanned it, seeing words like pardon, obstruction of justice, requalification, but her mind raced over the email before she could comprehend its meaning. She looked at him expectantly.

‘It looks like there’s a shot,’ Mulder said nervously, rubbing his palms together. ‘A long shot. Skinner thinks he could get any potential charges against you dropped as long as I continue to lay low. But he thinks there’s a possibility for us both to return.’

‘And we’d be together?’

‘Yes. We could be together.’ He finally slipped a smile. ‘I may not see daylight for the foreseeable future, so I hope you like the anaemic vampiric look.’

Scully covered her face with her hands and pushed all the air out of her lungs. Her fingers were hot, and her head tingled. She laughed, feeling a little light-headed and hysterical. She pictured her Mom’s face and the laugher turned to loud sobs of relief. Mulder kissed her head and held her tightly while she calmed. The energy in his eyes had already been replaced with fear, and she realised the price of the choice he had just made for her. For them.

‘Pack your things Scully,’ He started pulling their bags from the cupboard. ‘We gotta move.’

#submitted #submission #submission summer 2k20

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kingyeoms · 5 years

Text

neuroscience TA! joshua

pairing: joshua hong x reader (n) genre: it’s all fluff sorry warnings(?): swearing and just really casual writing in bullet points lol word count: 2,044 a/n: i barely proofread this and this is nothing like what i usually write but i’ve been thinking about this since the start of the new semester and welp here we are. a/a/n: i just realized.. people might not really know what a TA/teaching assistant is! usually someone who is working towards their doctoral degree and are obligated to assist teaching a course in their department, usually in charge of teaching discussion/supplemental sections~ ♡ best read on desktop, use mobile browser if you can’t read under the cut ♡

3rd year phd candidate

does research on neural circuit mechanisms in aging adults

big geek about brains, shows a thirty minute long video of a sheep brain dissection for the first day of section

people fell asleep but it’s fine bc josh is so excited about the video and everyone finds it endearing

always dresses so casually!! comes to class wearing sweats and plain black t-shirts (probably buys them in packs for $3)

but he still has the reputation among the undergraduate students as the “hot neuro TA”

cracks jokes w/ his students all the time

literally everyone wants to take the class that joshua hong is TAing

“joshua what are you teaching next semester??” “topics in advanced neuroimaging, you gonna take it?” “never mind, good luck”

brings his dog named peanut to class all the time

peanut is a giant ass st. bernard who likes to walk around the class and sleep next to people’s feet

super adorable but also a big Drooler

you’re the other teaching assistant for the same neuroanatomy class, but in the psychology department

you’re super down to earth!! honestly you treat your students like friends, talking to them super casually

but when class starts, you know how to get down to business and you’re super passionate about what you’re talking about

the psych undergrads have a ton of respect for you, because not only were you chill but you were mad smart too!!

your kids walking into class: “y/n guess what fucking happened in lecture”

you: “listen, you probably shouldn’t say the f word in front of me but tell me what the fuck happened”

anyways, here’s a funny coincidence: your lab and joshua’s lab are on the same floor

so it’s not a surprise that you and josh have this ongoing “feud” of which is more superior: psych vs neuro

“psych is for people who can’t handle neuro” “neuro is for people who hate themselves”

your office is opposite of his, so he’s always stopping by your room to annoy you or steal something from the jar of candy on your desk.

you: “why am i constantly out of kit-kats?”

josh, fistfuls of kit-kats behind his back: “damn, you should probably buy some more”

he’ll mess with your powerpoint slides, swapping photos of the cerebellum for photos of him and peanut

which SUCKS when you’re teaching,, and josh’s dumb face pops up on the projector,,

your kids: “nice one josh”

when you’re holding office hours for your students, he stops by and says some dumb shit to your kids like “come to my office instead, y/n doesn’t know what they’re talking about”

“fuck off, joshua” “oooooh you curse in front of your students? i’m telling the professor”

you just roll your eyes and the two of you just laugh at each other

the students who come to your office hours swear you two have a thing going on

and honestly? you wish

you’ve always thought josh was pretty cute

being a phd student was stressful, especially with research and teaching, but he never failed to put a smile on your face!!

you two were often the last ones on the floor, in charge of locking up rooms and cleaning equipment

he always insists on walking you to your car at night because “the raccoons might attack you”

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about kissing him in your office but shhh

during lecture, you guys share a google doc to take notes on what to teach your students

he thinks it’s funny to delete everything you write

you, sitting next to him in the front row: “joshua hong if you don’t press ctrl + z right now i swear to god i’ll change the lock code to the EEG room”

josh: “wait don’t i have a study tomorrow”

proctoring exams with josh: “i can pass out tests faster than you” “are we five???? but no you can’t”

he’s really good… at catching people cheating? the dude has eyes like a hawk lmao and you don’t even notice honestly

“see the kid with the blue baseball cap on? give him a 0″

anyways the professor asks you and joshua to come in on a weekend to grade midterms

you: but i made plans

josh: i’m not ?? even getting paid ??

but you guys do it anyways because it’s not like you have a choice lmao rip

he brings peanut and he’s just drooling all over your bag

peanut not josh

i guess josh is metaphorically drooling because… you looked really good today

not the usual jeans and college sweatshirt you wear during the week

you had originally made plans with your friends to go to the farmer’s market

it was a really nice day :( sunny outside and you actually tried to not look like a mess for once!! you actually brushed your hair today lol

anyways, peanut is still drooling and you look at josh, confused but also a little grossed out

“why is peanut drooling?” “do you have food in your bag?” “i don’t think so?” “oh. maybe he just likes you”

peanut: pulls out a granola bar out of your bag

anyways… you two are grading exams, checking over the answer key for any mistakes

you furrow your brows as you look over the answer choices, so you ask josh to take a look at question 23

“yeah, what about it?” “look at the answer choices, there are two possible answers.” “ah fuck.”

turns out… a lot of the questions are like that..

you and josh just look at each other and groan, realizing you two have to redo the entire answer key

you call your friends to cancel your plans, saying you were stuck at school

joshua feels really bad so he reaches over to grab your stack of tests

“you can go if you want! i’ll finish it, no worries”

you shake your head, pulling out a box of red pens from your bag

“no thanks, my boyfriend would miss me”

a confused josh: “no i wouldn’t?”

“… i was talking about peanut?” but you’re giggling because josh’s face is beet red at this point

joshua: “anyways, question 40 right?”

truth is, joshua has always found you cute and he liked the fact that when he teased you, you weren’t afraid to tease him back

he just felt.. really comfortable around you

and seeing you smile after he cracked a joke?? best thing in the world to him besides peanut

even when you roll your eyes at him, he thinks it’s so cute!!

cliché moment where you two reach for the answer key at the same time and your hands touch

but neither of you let go wow so cute and you guys kind of just !! grade tests in silence, holding hands

joshua’s the type to rub your the back of your hand with his thumb i’m lowkey crying thinking about it

anyways, you guys end up finishing grading and the sun is starting to set

josh realizes that you two spent the entire day stuck inside the office, so he offers to take you to the farmer’s market

but you don’t wanna be a bother or anything so you shake your head, “no it’s okay!!”

josh insists that he takes you, saying “i gotta take peanut on a walk, come on let’s go”

so you two go to the farmer’s market, the crowds starting to die down a little bit since it’s the end of the day

josh holds your hand and peanut’s leash in the other

peanut keeps dragging you guys to all the booths that sell homemade peanut butter and he’s never been happier, he keeps getting free samples and head scratches

you’re looking at a booth that sells homemade jewelry, think leather bracelets and dainty finger rings

“josh, what do you think about th-” you turn to your side, but josh and peanut are nowhere to be found

and you look through the crowds and the booths next to you, but you can’t find them anywhere

you kind of panic,, because you didn’t think josh was the type to ditch someone? on a date?

was this even a date you weren’t sure to be honest,, but still :( you were kind of upset

but you finally see peanut dragging joshua back to you, a small bouquet of sunflowers in his hand

joshua’s cheeks and ears are tinged a slight pink when he gives the flowers to you, “i saw a stand selling these and they just looked really pretty, so i bought them for you”

and the flowers are so beautiful and your jaw literally aches from smiling so big and josh thinks you’re so beautiful!!

you two walk around a bit more, hand!! in!! hand!!

josh: trying to pull peanut away from all the friendly people willing to give him free beef jerky

tired from all the walking, you two buy ice cream, sitting on a bench in front of the tiny shop

peanut eats josh’s ice cream when he’s not looking

josh: peanut what the fuck

you offer to buy him another one, but he shakes his head, taking the cone from your hand, biting into the soft pink scoop

“let’s just share, strawberry is my second favorite anyways”

your jaw just drops because,, who bites into ice cream?

but it’s cute, you two talk about how much you hate the professor and which students you think are annoying

you two don’t even realize how dark it is until you hear peanut snoring, curled up at the bottom of your feet

josh is the first to stand up, his hand reaching out to yours, “it’s getting a little late, i’ll take you home?”

and so that’s how you and joshua ended up at the front door of your apartment

your hand clutching the sunflowers, the other intertwined in his fingers

and when he leans in, you don’t hesitate to close the gap between you two

kissing joshua? definitely better than you expected, the taste of strawberry ice cream still slightly lingering on his lips

your lips move in perfect harmony with his, joshua placing his hand on the small of your back

as soon as you feel josh pull you in closer, you feel a... wet.. tongue on your foot? you both break away to find peanut,, asleep,, drooling,, on your toes

“damn it, peanut” josh groans as you giggle, resting your forehead against his

“i’ll see you on monday, yeah?” you grinned, kissing him on the cheek

"yeah i really,, gotta take this kiddo home,,” and he sighs, waking Big ol’ peanut up “but i had a lot of fun tonight, we should do it again sometime”

“as long as we don’t have to grade 600 midterms again, it’s a date”

the both of you blush because,, was this even a date??

yes, it was

but seriously, what a super cute start to your relationship with josh

you don’t even get mad when you find out it’s josh stealing all of your kit kats

he leaves a giant bag of them on your desk one day to make up for it

but also joshua is the Worst

joshua: “how does it feel to be dating the hot neuro TA on campus?”

you: “shut up before you become the hot single neuro TA”

sometimes josh stops by your class when you’re teaching to give you a kiss on your cheek before he goes to do research,,, embarrassing you in front of all your students (even though pda is probably something that shouldn’t be happening in front of them)

literally Everyone: “we fucking called it”

definitely still makes fun of you 24/7,, just with more kissing

friday nights with joshua: skimming academic papers and talking shit on faculty LOL

going to the farmer’s market becomes a weekly thing for you guys!! mainly because the peanut butter booth would be devastated if they didn’t get to see Mister peanut

sooo,, you may or may not have done it on your desk in the lab LOL

josh in lecture: hey i think you’re pretty cute, maybe we should get dinner tonight?

you: josh can you pls stop flirting with me on google docs you’re LAME

#kpop scenarios #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen au #i don't even know what to tag this #m:jisoo #gr:fluff #g:svt #number one peanut stan #i would kill for neuro josh bye

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redrobin-detective · 5 years

Text

Street Kids Do it Best

“I had a fight with B, needed to get out, let me crash with you for a few days,” Jason shrugged, hiking his backpack high on his shoulder. Billy Batson blinked and then decided it was totally worth it to die by Batman’s hand in order to spend time with his best friend.

Now edited and up on AO3

The sound of knocking at his door instantly awakened Billy and sent him into panic mode. He was an incredibly light sleeper and had trained himself to wake up when anyone walked by the hallway outside his door. The fact that someone was able to get all the way to his door to knock meant he was dealing with someone who knew how to move without being noticed. None of the people he hung with in the city knew where he lives and, even if they did, they wouldn’t be stopping by at just past 4 am. He supposed Toyman or Monsieur Mallah wouldn’t waste time knocking but tell that to his paranoia? He grabbed a baseball bat he’d found at the dump and held it at the ready in front of the door.

“Who’s there?” He demanded in his deepest voice, trying to channel Batman as best he could.

“It’s Goldi-fucking-locks, now let me in dipshit,” Billy relaxed instantly, lowering the bat and opening the door to reveal Jason Todd, his best friend and also the latest Robin. He looks almost bored with Billy’s attempt at defense but when you live with Batman, everyone else kind of pales in comparison.

“Jay, jeez you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here anyway, B didn’t tell me about any uh work stuff,” Billy added, holding the door open for Jay to come in. He noted immediately that Jason was on edge; his eyes wouldn’t stop casing Billy’s one room, broken down apartment and his free hand was twitching against his thigh. The other hand was tightly wrapped around the strap of an overfilled backpack. Billy has a bad feeling about this.

“I had a fight with B, needed to get out, let me crash with you for a few days,” Jason shrugged, hiking his backpack high on his shoulder as if he hadn’t asked Billy to hide him from the World’s Greatest Detective and probably the World’s Most Paranoid Over-Protective Father. Of course that wasn’t the real issue here.

“A fight? What was it about?” Jay’s frown deepened at the question so Billy diverted. “Please tell me you at least told someone where you were going. Batman’ll rip my arms out if he found out I kidnapped his sidekick, how’d you even get here?”

“Drove my bike to Bludhaven and used one of the Zetas there to get here, made a couple of other stops to throw off the trail.” Jay said clinically, dumping his bag on the floor and flopping onto the bed, making himself comfortable on Billy’s pillow. “And I’m not a total moron, I told Alfie. He saw I needed to blow off some steam, said he’d keep the Bat off my back for a day or two but don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair by then.”

This is way too much for Billy to comprehend at 4 in the morning so he joined his friend on the bed and rubbed at his eyes. He’s seen Clark do this when dealing with Batman and some of the Titans with Nightwing so he guess it was just a Bat thing.

“Let me get this straight,” Billy drawled, “you decided you wanted to leave your fancy mansion in order to slum it with me for a few days, practically inviting the goddamn Batman to wring my neck, because you’re in a pissing contest with him?”

“Pretty much but I brought food, the good shit and B will never know I was here,” Jay countered. Unlikely but whatever, he’s too tired to think about this right now.

“Fine, but the sun’s not even up and Captain Marvel had a busy day yesterday so I’m going back to bed,” he dramatically rolled over on top of his friend, eliciting a squeak of protest. But he already gave Billy one heart attack tonight and was totally messing up his schedule which is probably why he was letting Billy use him as a giant heat pack.

“For what it’s worth Jay, it’s good to see you,” Billy murmurs into Jason’s chest.

“Shut the hell up and go to sleep, Batson,” Jay growled back but he didn’t protest the contact. Content, Billy let himself drift back to sleep still curled up in his friend’s side.

XxX

Billy woke for the second time that day considerably more comfortable than the first time. For one thing, he was warm which was unusual considering it was February and he didn’t remember his pillow being this soft… or breathing. He peeked open one eye and saw Jason watching him with a bored look.

“About goddamn time, I lost feeling in my arm hours ago, probably gonna have to chop it off now,” Jay said, pushing Billy off of him. Billy himself just shook his head to catch up, right, Jay stayed the night er morning, was gonna stay in Fawcett until Batman tracked them down and killed them both. Cool.

“You coulda moved me,” Billy yawned as Jason rolled out his arm.

“You looked like shit kid, you clearly needed the sleep. You gotta take better care of yourself or you won’t be doing anyone any good,” Jay sneered.

“You’re barely six months older than me,” Billy frowned but Jay got up and stretched anyway.

“Might as well be six years, I see how the Cap acts out in the field with all his ‘aw shucks’ charm. It’d be sickening if it wasn’t so goddamn genuine.”

“At least I’m wearing pants, Mr. ‘I like to feel the wind on my bare thighs,’” Jason turned and stared at Billy with an intense expression which Billy returned. It lasted a solid 30 seconds before Jay cracked and grinned at him. Billy returned the smile; this is why they were best friends.

“Alright fuck, way to hit below the utility belt,” Jay said, still smiling slightly as he ruffled his wiry, slightly curled hair and looked out the dirty window. Now that he’s more awake, Billy saw Jay is wearing a sweat stained t-shirt and tight black work out pants which he wore under his costume when it was cold out. Did he come straight from patrol? Jay got pissed at Bruce all the time but he’d never shown up at Billy’s doorstep with a packed bag before. This might take more than a few days separation to heal but there’d be time for that later.

“How about some breakfast, there’s a shop up the street that sells uneaten food off plates for 1/3 the price,” Billy chirped.

“I’m not making you spend your meager savings in addition to putting up with me,” Jay rolled his eyes, his Gotham accent coming out especially thick as he grabbed for his bag and pulled out a Tupperware. “I told you I brought the good shit, Alfie made those obnoxiously sweet fruit crepes you like.”

“Please tell Alfred I would die for him,” Billy responded automatically as his mouth watered.

“Me too man but I won’t pass that one, he’d just get all sad,” Jay smirked and conversation kind of died off as they attacked the lukewarm crepes with mismatched forks. It tasted heavenly and Billy closed his eyes, letting him enjoy the sensation of eating amazing food prepared just for him. Jay could have had these baked in front of him, fresh and warm with a glass of sparkling water or whatever rich people drank. He chewed thoughtfully, looking at Jason through his bangs. He’ll open up eventually, Jay was terrible at hiding things that upset him and Billy could be patient and wait until he was ready to talk. That’s why they worked so well together.

“Alright, what’s the plan, Bill?” Jason asked, wiping off some blueberry from his face with his arm. Jason was the only person who called him Bill; he said Billy was too childish for someone who could punch out Superman. Billy liked his name but he couldn’t deny a thrill of pleasure at having a special nickname from his best friend.

“Um I didn’t really have anything to do today so why don’t I show you around Fawcett,” Billy shrugged.

“Yeah but like show me the real deal,” Jason stressed. “I don’t want to see the clean tourist shit, I want to see what you deal with every day. Wanna make sure you’re taking care of yourself out here plus I gotta prove that I still got the stones after almost a year living the high life.”

“Uh okay,” Billy said, quirking an eyebrow. It was weird but considering that it was Jason, it could have been way worse. “Let me get dressed and we’ll head out.”

Their day ended up being pretty uneventful. True to his request, Billy dragged Jay along to his usual haunts: the diner where they let Billy sit even when he didn’t buy anything, the nice ladies on the street corner selling their wares, the library where Billy tried to catch up on his studies, the homeless shelters where Cap went for information and Billy got food if he really needed it. Jason acted his usual self: sizing up everyone they saw and spoke to, asserting himself to anyone who even thought about hassling them. One older teen looked like he was gonna go for Jason’s bag when Jay flipped out a big-ass switchblade Billy knew the Big Bat didn’t authorize. Billy is a notorious pacifist in their little community; he knows going to have a lot to answer for being seen with someone like Jason.

Jason bought them hot dogs with the frankly ridiculous amount of money he brought with him and they sat on a park bench and munched in silence.

“You got any work lined up tonight, you know, for the big guy?” Jay questioned through a mouthful of hot dog. Billy shook his head because his mouth was also full but he didn’t like talking with food in his mouth unlike some people. Honestly, which one of them lived in the fancy mansion again?

“Sweet so you and I can go out,” Jason grinned and Billy almost choked.

“Woah,” he wheezed, catching his breath. “Woah are you insane? I thought you were trying to keep a low profile? I can’t have Rob- you know who running around Fawcett, what would people say?”

“I didn’t say Cap and Robin would go out,” Jay whispered under his breath, still with that animated, half crazed look in his eyes. “I say you and me throw on some cheap masks and take out some baddies the old fashioned way, no powers, no fancy toys, just our fists.” And Jason’s grin is all fire and teeth and Billy can instantly see why Bruce took one look at this crazy kid before deciding to bring him home. What was he getting involved in, being friends with Bats?

XxX

“Jay, I don’t know about this,” Billy whispered, incredibly uncomfortable in his friend’s slightly too big work out pants while gripping his wooden bat. He went out fighting bad guys all the time, yeah, but unlike Robin he was used to being a 7 foot tall god, not a scared kid in borrowed clothes and an itchy domino mask.

“Don’t say my name,” Robin, and he was Robin right now no matter what he’s wearing, warned. He stood tall, weight perfectly balanced for ass-kicking, playfully spinning a piece of pipe they’d found lying around. Billy, meanwhile, felt terribly exposed and had literally no training in street fighting. He should have called Batman when he’d had the chance, too late now.

“What am I supposed to call you then?” Billy spat back but kept his voice down.

“Well try not to call me anything first off but I guess Rob works if you really need my attention, you can be Marv,” Jay grinned and Billy felt his eyebrow twitch in annoyance. Normally that’d get at least a good-natured groan but he’s not exactly happy with his best bud right now. He was going to suggest, once again, that they head back to his place and do something notlikely to get them beat up and in trouble but Jay’s smile smoothed out into something serious. He held up a hand to be quiet and then stalked forward, not making a sound and clinging to the shadows like he belonged there. Billy watched him go with an incredulous expression, how the hell was he supposed to do that? He tried his best, creeping after Jay but he knew he was too loud and too noticeable compared to the other boy. This is why he was not the street rat chosen to be the new Robin.

“Hey ass-lickers!” He heard Jay say confidently, Billy stepped forward and found his friend confronting no less than 6 guys in ski-masks with a crowbar jammed under a window to pry it open. Amateurish compared to what Rob and Cap have dealt with but those adults were more than enough to do serious damage to a couple of street kids. Well to him anyway. “You’re about to have your butts handed to you.” Jason didn’t waste any more breath on the meat heads, immediately diving into the fray and unleashing some wicked martial arts on the criminals who sure as hell weren’t expecting it. Billy would almost feel bad for them if he wasn’t terrified and angry at the same time.

“You little shit,” one robber hissed, ducking away from Jason and speeding towards him. Billy planted his feet and swung his baseball bat with all his might into the man’s side. While he hunched over and wheezed, he brought the bat down again onto the back of his head and he went down like a lead balloon. His heart swelled with victory as he gave the bat a little spin. Not bad considering it was his first proper bad guy taken down as regular ole Billy. Of course, Robin has taken down all the others by the time Billy got the one. Jay finished tying up his goons and gave him a thumbs up.

“Way to go, Marv, felt good, didn’t it?”

“No,” Billy frowned as the brief high crashed down around him. He looked down at the groaning man at his feet then at the bat in his hands. It suddenly felt a lot heavier than it had earlier that morning. He wasn’t used to his fights being this, intimate. “This isn’t what being a hero supposed to feel like.”

“Yeah well it is for us mere mortals,” Jay sniped, “Don’t get on your high horse, Cap. You live on these streets; you know how ugly shit can get and sometimes you gotta get dirty to take care of it. Now come on, help me drag these suckers out to the sidewalk and we’ll keep going.” Billy pursed his lips and did what he was told but already his stomach was twisting with nerves.

Luckily it turned out to be a quiet night in Fawcett; they stopped one attempted mugging, kicked around a few drug dealers and returned a lost toy to local girl. Billy gave thanks to the Gods he knew exist but still wasn’t sure he believed in because he’s not sure he could have dealt with anything bigger tonight. They’re on a rooftop and it’s clear his partner wasn’t as relieved as he was by the peace. Jay had the same restless energy he’d had when he first arrived that morning. It took some convincing but Jason eventually, reluctantly, agreed to turn in for the night. He remained sullen all the way back to the apartment, changed into his nightclothes and fell into bed without saying a word. Billy did the same, he’d grown used to Jay’s mood swings and he knew sooner or later, the Boy Wonder would crack. He slipped underneath the covers next to Jason and watched his friend angrily rub at his eyes.

“Feel better?” He asked quietly.

“No,” Jay hissed, “fuck, no, I’m sorry Bill,” he covered his eyes with one arm. “I shouldn’t have made you go out like that. You ain’t like me, that’s not your scene. You’re better than that and I was annoyed enough to try and drag you down to my level.”

“There are no levels, one is better here. We’re both just dumb kids Jay, but I accept your apology anyway,” Billy said before letting a few moments pass. “What did you fight with Bruce about?”

“Fuck, I don’t want to talk about it,” Jason cursed before turning his back to Billy. Billy huffed sadly but decided he’d simply try again in the morning. He was just getting comfortable in bed when Jason spoke again, quietly this time. “B said he loved me for the first time.” Oh Jay, Billy thought fondly, Only you would get upset about that.

“Oh really?” He coaxed and Jason turned onto his back again, his arms crossed protectively across his chest. He rustled his legs under the scratchy blanket like an angry cricket before continuing.

“We’d just got back from patrol, cracked a big case we’d been working on for the past week. I said something that helped B figure it out so I was riding pretty high, y’know? Alfie made those lemon scones he knows I’m apeshit for and B ran his hand through my hair and said, well, said the L word.”

“That’s great, Jason,” Billy said warmly, genuinely meaning it. It’d been so long since anyone had said those words to him but he’s still happy for his friend. Jason is amazing and deserving of love and Billy is so glad he’s finally receiving it.

“I freaked out,” Jay huffed. “Got skittish, you know the way I do. Bats turned back into an awkward potato and said some things that set me off. I screamed some stuff at him that I uh really shouldn’t have. Real deep shit about him and Goldie’s fucked up relationship and how I’m just some weak attempt at replacing him. B started getting mad, I got even madder and I just left which doesn’t make things any better, I know, but I did anyway.” Jay sighed and scrubbed at his face.

“I came back ‘bout an hour later, all filled with apologies and overheard the big guy complaining to Alfred about how he just doesn’t get me, how it was never this hard with Dick. My head was still kind of fucked up so I wasn’t really thinking when I grabbed my Go bag and left again. Was halfway to the ‘Haven before I realized they’d flip if I just disappeared so I called the house and told Alfie I was visiting you and I’d be back in a few days. He at least seemed to understand me,” Jay grumbled the last part.

“To be fair, you’re kind of a mess Jason, not even Batman can be expected to figure you all out,” Billy teased lightly and was rewarded with a light chuckle.

“You know it, Big Bill.”

“I know this may seem kind of sudden but Bruce does love you,” Billy whispered, scooting a little closer. “It’s obvious every time he’s with you. He brings you up all the time in League meetings; he’s like stupidly proud of you.”

“I mean I guess I know but it’s just so weird,” Jay said, pulling up the blanket a bit. “I mean, I came to him with a suitcase full of problems and that’s not even factoring in all of B’s bullshit. I just don’t know how to deal with people actually, y’know, liking me. Plus we all know I don’t fit in there.”

“Jay…”

“Nah shut up it’s true. I’m not fucking Dick Grayson with his award winning smile and magnetic personality that just makes everyone better, made Batman better. Fuck, I guess,” Jay sighed heavily and curled in a little on himself. “I’m just afraid I’m gonna screw it all up. Bruce… he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me and he’s out there doing honest to god good shit, as both Bruce and Batman. I just know I’m going to mess it up, mess him up. He’s too goddamn soft, if he really does love me, he can be hurt by me and I’d rather go back to the streets than drag one of the only good men I know down.”

“Jason,” Billy said, closing the distance between them and setting his head on Jay’s chest, wrapping his arms around his friend and listened to his fast beating heart. “I can’t speak for Batman but all I know is that we love you, warts and all and it would be a privilege to be hurt by you because that means we got to have you in our life.”

“Fuck man, no wonder that wizard guy gave you superpowers,” Jay mumbled in a watery voice. He brought a hand up and tightly gripped Billy’s and they cuddled like that for a long while, just feeling each other with all their faults out to bear because there was no one else to judge them for being less than the ideals they strived to be. It was so freeing just to be for a change and Billy relaxed into his friend’s absurdly warm body.

“You know the same goes for you, Bill,” Jay added on after a bit, sounding half asleep. “You got a lot of people who love you, including me, Alfie and B who know who you are under the cape. I want you to have your freedom but fuck man you deserve so much better than this shithole. You know you just need to say the word and B will have you in the Manor in a heartbeat. We could be brothers, much better than the awkward thing me and Dick got going on.”

“Thanks Jay,” Billy muttered. “I know you and Bruce mean well but Fawcett is my home and I’m happy here. I have my normal friends, my job as Captain Marvel, the League, you; I don’t need any more and besides,” he gently kicked Jay from underneath the covers. “We’re already kinda brothers; don’t need any papers to tell me what I already feel.”

“Christ you’re sappy,” Jason huffed but he sounded a lot better than he had earlier. “I’m going to sleep before you make me vomit with all that sweetness.”

“Night Jay,” Billy grinned but he suspected Jason was already asleep. He probably didn’t sleep much at all yesterday; Jay was someone who let issues keep him awake and as soon as they were solved was out like a light. He was kind of dumb that way but Billy loved him anyway. With Jason asleep, he took the time just to watch his friend. The way his whole face just completely relaxed, how many teeny tiny freckles he had all over his nose and cheeks and spotting down to his neck and collarbone, how long and thick his eyelashes were, highlighted by the moon.

Billy thinks he might have a little crush on his best friend, is it weird to think your bro is kinda attractive? The Wisdom of Solomon he has when he’s Cap tells him that it’s just Billy’s loneliness latching onto one the only true relationships he has with someone his own age and turning it into something more. Still, all that seemed so far away when he’s half on top on a boy who’s the most wonderful asshole he’s ever met. He decided to stop thinking about stuff he can’t figure out and let himself enjoy the moment, falling asleep himself, warm and with the undeniable knowledge that he is loved.

XxX

Billy was woken up by the sound of violent cursing. He bolted up out of bed for the second day in a row and turned to see Jay’s face twisted in a snarl as he held a note. He peeked over his friend’s shoulder and recognized Bruce’s neat handwriting, ‘Let me know when you’re on your way home.’ It was folded with Jason’s name written on the front, obviously left near Jay’s portion of the bed for when he woke up. Billy scrubbed at his eye, he probably should be more mad about Batman breaking into his place but he’s growing desensitized to the level of bullshit that comes with Bats. He and the others should form a support group.

“I thought Alfred would hold him off longer,” Jason grumbled, throwing the note across the room.

“Probably just wanted to make sure you were where you said you’d be. I bet he was real worried when you didn’t come home,” Jason hummed, still annoyed but with a note of understanding in it. “You know, he didn’t make you go back with him. He’s trying to give you the space you asked for, you can stay as long as you need to.”

“Nah,” Jason breathed out. “I can’t keep sponging on you and I need to own up to the things I did and said the other night. I’ll treat you to breakfast then head out.”

“If you insist,” Billy said, stretching out his limbs. “But seriously Jay, stop by anytime. It’s nice to see your dumb face outside of League business where we gotta act like a wise god-like adult and the perfect little sidekick. Just like, tell Batman where you’re going next time.”

“No promises Captain Lame-o,” Jay answered in a mocking tone with a little salute and Billy pushed him over. He loved having Jason Todd in his life. There weren’t many other kids his age who knew not only what it was like to be a superhero but also dealing with all the shit that comes with being out on your own at a young age. So yeah, one of these days Jay was going to talk him into something that got them into massive amounts of trouble and B’s totally gonna ream him for willingly hiding his son away from him. But it’s totally worth it to spend some time with his best friend

#my writing #billy batson #jason todd #this was so cathartic to write #reblogging again because this is cute dammit #there isn't nearly enough Jay/Billy friendship content out there #and I will fill that gap

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babybluebex · 5 years

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Wait For Me pt. 2

some soft snafu with a kid bc we as a fandom deserve it

“C’mon, MJ,” I said. “Your daddy’s train’s gonna get in soon. We gotta meet him there. He’s so excited to meet ya, suga.”

My little baby was the spitting image of his father, with his clear blue eyes and unruly black hair. Merriel Junior— MJ, as I called him— had my fair skin, but he was his daddy’s boy through and through. Merriel had been overseas for MJ’s whole life and they would finally meet each other. I knew my son was nervous, but I constantly assured him that his daddy would love him. MJ has drawn a picture at school that showed him with Merriel, a large “Me + Daddy” at the top. I showed MJ photographs of us, mainly ones from graduation, and, like the little gentleman he was, MJ always told me that I was pretty.

That was difficult for me for a number of reasons. During my pregnancy, I was so afraid and nervous about Merriel that I managed to put on a little weight, and I never got rid of it. It was mainly focused around my stomach and thighs and covered in dark stretch marks that no amount of home remedies could cure. Where I used to do my hair every day, it was a miracle if I managed to not wear it up. I hadn’t felt beautiful or even pretty in so long, and MJ was a sweetheart for telling me that.

“Is Daddy nice?” MJ asked as he put down his crayon. He was finishing one last drawing for Merriel, just a nice win and flowers with his name written in the corner with his J backwards.

“Nicest man I eva met,” I replied easily. “You’ll love him, and he’ll love ya. You’re his baby, it’ll be impossible for me to not love ya.”

MJ slid off of the chair at the kitchen table and clung to the skirt of my dress, and I bent down and hugged him tightly. “Don’t be nervous, baby,” I told him. “He’s your daddy.”

“But I ain’t eva met him,” MJ sniffled. “What if he don’t like me?”

“MJ, baby,” I sighed. “The night that I told your daddy that we were gonna have a baby, he was so happy that he cried. Every letta he’s eva sent me, he always asks ‘bout ya. He’s excited ta meet ya, MJ, and I know that he’ll like ya.”

“Daddy cried?” MJ asked.

“He did,” I nodded. “I know ya think your daddy’s all big and bad ‘cause he fought, but he’s very nice. He got Delilah for me ‘cause he knew how much I wanted a cat. He always woke me up with a kiss and, when I was goin’ through school, he helped me study every night. Your daddy’s the nicest man I eva met; I married him for a reason.”

“Andy said ya and Daddy ain’t married,” MJ mumbled.

“We are,” I said simply. We were engaged, but we couldn’t arrange a court marriage before Merriel had to leave. We just always said that we were married for simplicity’s sake. “And, next time Andy tries ta say somethin’ bad ‘bout ya mama, what d’ya say?”

“That ain’t true!” MJ said and cracked a smile. He was missing a tooth on the left side of his mouth, and I smiled back at him.

“That’s right, suga,” I said. “Put your coat on, you’ll catch your death waiting outside.”

MJ happily skipped ahead of me as we walked to the train station, the tip of his little nose turning red with the winter nip. The war ended in September, but Merriel had to stay to deal with reparations for another six months. I knew that it bothered MJ because all of his school friends had their daddies back, but the Marines of K Company has to stay behind. That made it January, and January in Baton Rouge wasn’t the warmest.

“MJ, darlin’, come hold my hand,” I said, and my son turned and skipped to me. He took my hand, encased in a prim white glove, and I smiled as he tried to skip while keeping pace with me.

“Mama, ya walk too fast!” MJ pouted.

“Maybe I’ll just skip with ya,” I smiled, and MJ giggled as we skipped together to the train station. The mood was so high and clear, and I knew that MJ was buzzing with a newfound excitement. My heart was beating so quickly that I felt like it would burst out of my chest, and I clutched my coat around my neck.

“That train should be here soon,” I mumbled. MJ took after his daddy in the size department, and I easily picked him up and set him on my hip. My mother got onto me for babying MJ as much as I did, but MJ liked it and so did I, so I kept doing it. In my experience with Frankie, there would come a time where MJ would want nothing to do with me, so I relished the moments where he wanted to sit in my lap or sleep in bed with me. “Holla if ya see the train, MJ.”

“‘Scuse me, ma’am,” a gentle voice said from beside me, and I turned to see a man in Marine uniform, his cap off to expose thin, wheat-colored hair. “Do you know when the train’s gettin’ in?”

“Shoulda been ‘bout five minutes ago,” I said. “Ya waiting for a brotha?”

“Brotha in arms, ma’am,” the Marine told me. “He has to stay behind once the war ended. Ol’ Snafu hated that, but he did it.”

“I’m waitin’ for my husband,” I said. “And this little one’s daddy. They ain’t ever met before.”

“Eugene Sledge, ma’am,” the Marine said and offered me a hand.

“Daisy Shelton,” I told him and shook his hand. “And this is little MJ.”

“Shelton?” Eugene repeated. “Not Merriel Shelton?”

“Yes, Merriel,” I smiled. “Did ya serve with him?”

“Hell, Mer was my best friend over in Japan,” Eugene laughed. “Kept me sane once I got there. I was waitin’ for him too. He said he was from Nola and I thought I’d offer him a ride back. It’s on the way to Mobile, so it ain’t a big deal.”

“Merriel and I grew up together in Nola,” I said. “But we moved here for college.”

“Snafu ain’t eva mention college,” Eugene chuckled. “What’d he study?”

“He ain’t study anythang,” I said. “I went to LSU to be a computa. That got put on hold with little MJ here, but I’m happy to be a mama first.”

“Snafu never said anythang ‘bout a wife,” Eugene told me. “Or a kid. I didn’t take him to be the type, really. If I may, what d’ya see in him?”

“Well, Merriel’s real nice,” I began. “He got inta Tulane but turned it down so I could go to LSU. He’s real smart too, but I guess I’m responsible for that, ‘cause I tutored him all through high school. He’s very thoughtful and funny, and just a little sarcastic. He’s my perfect match and my best friend, ever since we were kids.”

“Are we talkin’ ‘bout the same person?” Eugene asked slowly. “Merriel Shelton and nice don’t seem like they fit in the same sentence.”

“Did somethin’ happen to him?” I asked.

“Mama!” MJ cried and tugged on my sleeve. “There’s the train, I see it!”

I turned to see where he was excitedly pointing, and I saw the steam from the train billowing out into the sky. It was getting closer; my Mer was home. “He’s here, suga,” I said, and MJ nuzzled his cheek into my shoulder.

The train chugged into the station, and MJ was kicking his little feet with nerves. I watched people unload, then I saw an olive-green cap bob off the train. A yell bubbled from my chest before I could control it, and I cried, “Merriel!”

“Dai?” He called, and I gasped. “Daisy!”

Suddenly, I was being crushed in the tightest embrace, forcing every breath and tear out of myself. I struggled to release MJ before hugging my Merriel and crying into his neck. He was home. He was safe and okay and home. He picked me up around my waist and spun me around as he laughed, and he kissed me deeply. Five years without his hugs or kisses, and I was going insane. “Don’t cry, princess,” Merriel whispered and brushed my tears off of my cheek with his thumb. His skin was darker with sun damage, his hair frizzier than ever before, but his eyes were the same icy blue. He had a few small scars on his face, and I sniffled as I examined them.

“I can’t believe you’re in fronta me,” I giggled. “You’re home.”

“I’m home, Daisy,” Merriel told me. “And I ain’t eva gonna do that again. Biggest mistake I eva made. I missed my son being born, and I know that that’ll always tear me up.”

“Speaking of the little devil,” I said, and I turned and ushered MJ forward. “Merriel Shelton Sr., meet Merriel Shelton Jr.”

“Hi, Daddy,” MJ mumbled, and Merriel kneeled down to reach his height.

“S’like lookin’ in a mirror,” Merriel chuckled. “Hey there, sport.”

MJ threw his arms around Merriel’s neck and hugged him tightly, and Merriel grinned as he stood up and situated MJ on his back. “Sledgehamma!” Merriel exclaimed when he saw Eugene lingering behind us, and he gave him a harsh salute. “How’re ya?”

“Doin’ alright,” Eugene said. “I met your lady love here; why didn’t ya eva mention her?”

“I hated thinkin’ ‘bout it,” Merriel said. “It hurt me knowing that I left them alone and that I might not come back, so separating myself worked best. But I’m home now, and I’m ready to be a daddy and a husband for the rest of my life.”

MJ was drowsy by the time we got back to the house, and I carried him in and settled him on the couch for a nap. I turned to speak to Merriel, but I saw him standing at the doorway, staring at the painted door jamb. I moved to hug him, and my eyes caught what he was looking at. A small engraving in the paint: Mer + Dai, 1940. “Christ, Daisy,” Merriel sighed heavily. “I’m so sorry, darlin’. I don’t know how I can eva make up for this.”

“Ya don’t have ta,” I told him. “It’s alright, Mer. Ya did what ya had to do and I respect that.”

Merriel looked at me and hugged me tightly, and I held him. I knew that he didn’t want apologies or anything of the sort at that moment, and I held him and let him cry for a few moments. He looked up and focused on MJ, still in earshot from his place on the couch, and he quickly cleaned himself up. “That’s him, huh?” He asked with a weak voice.

“Yep,” I said. “He’s more and more like ya everyday. He had a part of ya from the start; when he was born, he was cryin’ and hollerin’ like nothing else, but when my mama and I started cooin’ at him, he went quiet and started laughin’. He’s a good kid, and he’s excited for ya to be home. He wants ya to play baseball with him.”

“A baseball playa,” Merriel chuckled. “My son plays baseball.” He rubbed his jaw with his hand, and he slowly blinked as he processed everything. “My son. It hasn’t sank in yet that I’m a daddy.”

“And it probably won’t for a while,” I shrugged. “But that’s fine. It took me a while to get used ta bein’ a mama.”

“A hot mama, at that,” Merriel whispered in my ear and wrapped his arms around my waist. “When did ya get this goin’ on?”

“Baby weight I neva gave up,” I said. “Mama said I look healthier with more weight.”

“Well, shit, Daisy,” Merriel chuckled lightly. “Ya keep lookin’ like this and we’re gonna have ta get started on a baby sista for MJ.”

“Naughty soldia-boy,” I giggled. “S’that all ya think ‘bout?”

“I ain’t had a woman in five years,” Merriel told me. “I ain’t had you in five years. I’d be insane not to think ‘bout it. Anyway… Consider it. A little girl runnin’ ‘round, tyin’ bows on Delilah’s neck at Christmas, wearing pretty little ribbons in her hair.”

“Slow down, cowboy,” I smiled. “One thing at a time. Come sit down and have some dinner, then ya can help me with supper.”

“Maybe Daddy can have some dessert,” Merriel whispered and kissed my cheek.

I smiled. “Maybe,” I told him. “We’ll talk ‘bout it.”

“Daddy?” MJ mumbled, and I turned to see him sitting up and sleepily rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah, suga?” Merriel replied.

“Can ya come lay down with me?” MJ asked, and Merriel’s smile grew.

“Sure thang, sport,” Merriel said. “Mama, ya wanna come take a nap with us?”

“I’d love ta,” I said. MJ climbed off of the couch and moved to Merriel, and he tugged on the sleeve of his jacket for a moment before Merriel picked him up with ease. We were snuggled up in bed together quickly, MJ sandwiched between the two of us, and it took everything that I had inside myself to not burst into tears.

“I love ya, Merriel,” I whispered and tucked a rampant curl behind his ear.

“I love ya too, Daisy,” he whispered. “I ain’t eva leavin’ ya. That damn war…”

“I was talkin’ ta your friend ‘fore the train got there,” I said. “And he called ya somethin’ funny.”

“Snafu,” Merriel said simply.

“Yeah,” I said. “What’s that mean?”

“It’s a military thang,” Merriel said. He looked down to MJ, asleep with his head in my chest, and he said, “It stands for Situation Normal, All Fucked Up. I was just a damn mess ova there.”

I nodded slowly. “Everythang’s gonna get betta, Mer,” I told him. “I know it.”

#rami malek #rami #snafu #merriel shelton #the pacific #fanfic #mine

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photochoco · 5 years

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Two Sides of the Same Coin

Chapter 2 Introduction Surrounded by adversaries, Touko settles in. Team Plasma says trans rights.

-- The sun beat down brightly as the small group made their way along a rocky path. It was the beginning of summer, the air was not yet hot enough for the breeze that lazed by to be troublesome. All the same, Touko wished she had her baseball cap. Having black hair didn’t help, the back of her neck heating up uncomfortably. She grumbled and bunched her hair into a low ponytail. Brandon didn’t seem to mind the heat at all, even in his Plasma uniform which covered every inch of skin and had a slim-fitting hood. Indeed, he hadn’t even broken out in a sweat as he, Touko, and several other new members they had met up with at their destination walked towards the Plasma base. Touko had no clue where this base was; as far as she knew they were in the middle of nowhere. Figures Team Plasma would have their base creepily away from civilization.

“Over here,” Brandon called to the newbies. He was standing in front of a small cave entrance that definitely looked like it led to...something. One by one, everyone was ushered in by Brandon, with Touko squeezing in last.

“What in the…” The sentence escaped her mouth, riding on a gasp that came out with it. Standing tall, deep in the wide, vast cavern, stood a massive building. There was only a faint light to illuminate it, but it sparkled. The other people around her had a very similar reaction.

“This is Team Plasma’s base?? You’re--” Touko was so caught up in her awe, she very nearly broke character. Cursing inwardly, she took a breath. “It’s-- wow!”

It really, truly, was the last thing she expected from Team Plasma. How did they afford such an extravagant structure? Brandon finally cracked a wide grin.

“Seeing the reaction of new members to our King’s castle is one of the best things about orientation. Come on, inside you’ll all receive your uniforms, identification cards, and rooming assignments!”

Touko made sure to stay right behind Brandon, ahead of the rest of the group. She absolutely had to see everything first, this was incredible!

Inside, the castle was even more grand. Shades of gold made up every surface, and the floor beneath their feet reflected like a mirror. There were even large fountains and indoor ponds lining the walls. The whole place looked like it cost a fortune.

Does N really own this place? Or does Ghetsis? Touko wondered. It certainly seemed much more aligned with the old geezer’s more opulent tastes, as far as she could tell. Once inside, the group separated based on where they’d be rooming (based on gender orientation). Touko went off with a much smaller group of women, while the men and went off in another. A third group was directed to the gender neutral barracks.

“Helloooooooo people!” A woman’s loud voice grabbed the attention of everyone. A new Grunt was standing with a hand on her hip, the other outstretched dramatically.

“Welcome to Team Plasma! My name is Andrea, and I’ll be helping you settle in. We are so grateful for your decision to serve our King and do whatever you can to help him achieve his utopia for Pokemon. As members of this organization, you will have a duty to uphold the integrity of our collective dream, so when you are both in uniform and out, be a good example. Remember, you represent Team Plasma!"

“Yes ma’am!” came a few enthusiastic replies from the group.

Andrea flashed a friendly grin. “That’s the spirit! But enough from me. Let’s get you all your uniforms, shall we? You gotta look the part!”

Touko struggled with her hood as it bunched her hair uncomfortably against her neck. Why did these stupid things have to have such tiny hoods?!

“Havin trouble, kiddo?” Andrea addressed Touko from where she was helping another Grunt select a uniform in their size.

“A little.”

“Here, let me show you a lil’ trick I’ve seen some other members use.”

Touko stood still as Andrea fiddled with her black locks. A sudden thought struck her.

“Hey Andrea, do you have any tips for uh...for staying cool in these clothes?”

“Ahahaha, you’re not the first newbie to ask that! Not to worry, the fabric of these uniforms is specially designed to breathe, allowing you to stay cooler in the heat and warmer in the cold. But, if you still feel like you’re standing next to a Magcargo, find some shade. There!” She stepped back to admire her work. Locks of Touko’s hair had been tugged out of the hood, the rest comfortably tucked against her head and neck; the weird-looking bulge had disappeared.

“Ah, thank you!”

“No problem! Now when we’re out in public, usually at rallies, you’re expected to keep your hood up because it looks more professional, but when we aren’t at events, you can pull it down. And! While I have your attention, it might be a bit interesting to tell you the history of our uniforms. As you have probably seen before arriving here, our uniforms are unisex, with the only noticeable difference being the smock length. Feminine aligned members tend to typically prefer the shorter ones I‘ve noticed, but you can choose which length you’d prefer, depending on which makes you more comfortable.”

A fond look crossed over Andrea’s face. “That was really helpful for my boyfriend, he was still transitioning when we joined. It helped alleviate some of his dysphoria. In Team Plasma, there is no room for transphobes or queerphobia. If anyone gives you a hard time about your smock length or anything else you wear off-duty, you come straight to me, and we’ll take care of it.”

Andrea’s words were heart-warming and reassuring, but all the same, Touko could not help but feel a twinge of irony.

So accepting...and yet. I’ve only ever seen you all be nothing but condescending and outright hostile to anyone who doesn’t have the same views about Pokemon as you.

A voice called from behind them. “Andrea?”

Touko froze. She knew that voice. Instinct made her turn.

N was standing there, and Touko felt a flurry of emotions explode in her stomach. Anger, hostility, nervousness, fear--

Fuck! Remember your training, Touko! Don’t let Bianca down she drilled you so haaaaaard--

Forcing an awestruck expression on her features (It was pretty hard), Touko quickly bowed low, taking care to obstruct her face.

“N--I mean-- Lord N!” she squeaked, taking great care to make sure her voice was pitched. “It’s an honor!”

“Oh no, please, there’s no need to be so formal with me! Er, you don’t have to bow.”

His tone of voice was one Touko had never heard him use before. It was much more casual, and much more pleasant. Her heart pounding in her chest, she raised her head. N’s eyebrows shot up, and for a terrifying second, Touko thought she had been found out.

“You look rather young,” N commented instead.

Pathetic relief washed over the teen. “I-I uh, I look rather young for my age, I’ve been told. I’m 19,” she mumbled.

“What’s your name?”

“Lysandra.” Feeling more confident, Touko added, “It means ‘liberator’.”

She and Cheren had spent a good while scoping out all varieties of baby name websites, looking for the perfect name for her alias. She figured the meaning would do a little to help her win favor in the organization. And it seemed to work, because N smiled widely. Touko had never seen him smile like that before, except when he was around Pokemon. It was a smile that reached his eyes, lighting them up even under the shaded brim of his baseball cap.

“What a beautiful name. Well, Lysandra, I want to express my gratitude for you, and all the rest of you who have joined today,” he said, addressing everyone else in the room, “Thank you, all of you, for joining our cause. I do hope you will continue to serve us, for a long time.”

With that, N excused himself from the room and was bowed out, much to his amiable protest. Touko watched him go, dazed. She’d done it. She’d fooled him. If she could manage to fool Ghetsis as well, she was really, truly in. She really could do this!

Andrea leaned to the side and caught an eye full of the grin that had crept across Touko’s face.

“Hehehe, another newbie caught in the snare of our Lord N’s good looks, huh? No wonder you seemed so nervous.”

Touko jumped. “W-What?!”

Another senior grunt laughed. “Don’t worry, love, you’re not the first newcomer to be completely taken with our King. But alas, even though he is a total heartthrob and breathtakingly hot, we aren’t allowed to flirt with him. The Seven Sages says he needs to focus on his objective, he can’t afford to fall head over heels with anyone right now. It really is such a tragedy…”

Andrea looked at her and snorted. “Le Fin, you are literally the biggest lesbian in Team Plasma.”

Le Fin looked mockingly affronted. She huffed and tossed her hair. “I may be a giant gay, but I can still appreciate a beautiful man when I see one!”

As the two playfully bickered with each other, Touko watched them, feeling oddly at home. Was it right to feel this way? She had not at all expected to be welcomed so warmly, nor had she expected everyone to be so...chummy with one another. They reminded her a lot of her two best friends. An ache rose in Touko’s chest. She missed them. She missed her Pokemon. But she couldn’t turn back now, she just got here, and successfully at that! She was going to see this through, welcoming atmosphere or not.

They’re still standing against me. They’re still aiming to take away everyone’s Pokemon, I won’t forget that.

Still, there wasn’t any harm in integrating herself a bit more. If she was going to play this part, she was going to go all out! --- -- --- <- Previous Next -> AO3 Link

#tsotsc #pokemon #pokemon fanfiction #pokemon bw #pokemon black and white #fanfic #fanfiction #pokemon fanfic #team plasma #N Harmonia #Touko pokemon

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steve0discusses · 6 years

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Yugioh S2 Ep 29: Everything Explodes, Cranes Fall, Everyone Drowns, Kaiba Gets Real Freakin Weird(er)

Happy Halloween everyone, I’m waiting for the trick or treaters that will never arrive at my house on a hill without any streetlights. As an adult, it’s not really a thing to go party hopping on a Wednesday (I don’t even know why we celebrate Wednesday Halloweens, they’re the very worst ones), so, lets talk about a ghost story tonight and recap a very long episode of Yugioh.

Bro was just steeped in excitement for my reaction on this one, because this is his favorite episode, I guess, and he did tell me “listen, this is peak Yugioh. It’s all downhill from here” and I was like “when were we uphill? Have we not been launched rapidly downhill straight from a Sonic-the-Hedgehog-style spinner since this series has started, whisking Yugi’s Grandpa’s soul through a VCR tape? Isn’t watching this series spiral out of control the whole point?”

Anyway, he gave me fair warning and I’m still not quite sure what happened this episode.

I mean I know what happened, I was here, I watched it, I watched it again to cap it, wrote some copy, edited it over with bro a bit, talked it out...

I’m still not sure what happened this episode.

Again, I get WHAT happened...it’s more...I don’t get...the laws of physics? Or Why certain people did certain things or...this episode, but that’s OK because it splattered all over the wall into this Rorcshach Test...and I don't know if the writers even want to bother explaining it. I mean...why bother at this point? We’re watching Yugioh. The main character is 50-99% definitely a ghost, don’t think about it.

First off, Marik’s boat.

Not pictured here: this room of this boat only has three walls. Marik is facing a steep drop into the sea, meaning that if there’s an rain or any waves or whatever, it just crashes directly into this room. If anything picks up the boat and kinda slams it around a bit, you just fly right out of this room and right out the back. I don't get this boat. I don’t get how you keep this room clean and free of nasty ass seagulls.

I don’t like boats and I don’t spend too much time on boats, so if this is normal and natural boat behavior, my bad.

In case you forgot, Joey is about to murder Yugi.

Every character on this show has run out of ideas and is onto their very last wit.

It’s just a whole lot of everyone pointing a card-shaped gun at each other and themselves and just shouting at the top of their lungs.

(read more under the cut)

And then the show does a sweeping half-episode review of every duel you have seen so far that had a Joey cameo in it. I mean...I guess it works. But it kinda feels like one of those filler episodes of Friends where they couldn’t come up with new content so they just did a “remember this cool thing that happened last season? haha, this isn’t a real episode” and so initially I was like “bro, I dunno if this episode is going to be as weird as you say it is.”

And so Joey decided he’s not going to kill his friend, but don’t be fooled, he’s still going to punch out many more people in the episodes to come, I am absolutely sure of it.

This is the first time Yugi’s decided to attempt to mind wipe someone without using Pharaoh. Aw. Kind of sweet, look at him grow up to be just like his Ghost Dad.

PS I just realized this, but why didn’t Yugi just mind wipe Joey!? It’s been heavily implied that he already has so many times--this seems like the one time Joey would have been totally OK with it. If I had a Marik situation in my brain, I would have been like, yes, please use the pharaoh ghost to break my brain into pieces, I’ll figure that whole recovery situation later, but at least I won’t be a murderer.

But whatever, they’re going to do it without magic, although Friendship is also magic in this universe. But the semantics are better.

Yugi uses his millennium cell phone signals to face chat with Marik. Kind of. This was probably just a visual analogy. I never know with this show, although Pharoah really did do a Shadow-world face chat with Pegasus last season like it wasn’t any big deal. Twice.

This whole 4 episode arc was just Yugi realizing last minute that Marik was wasting everyone’s time.

And once Yugi’s baited Marik into killing him before the time runs out, Joey lit up with bolts of crazy ass electricity as the Power of Friendship mindwiped saved Joey.

Almost half this episode is when the clock is at 30 seconds. There comes a point when you have to explain why your clock got stuck. Anyways, lets see what else we can do in 30 seconds:

So what will be the plan of Seto Kaiba, boy genius? What is this great master plan of the boy who can hack any system, who has a computer installed into every piece of clothing he owns down to his dockers and socks? The boy who once hacked a satellite and used it to crash all of the digital security systems in North America?

Blue Eyes’ only effective form: as a vehicle for a real nasty papercut. This will the only time I’ll accept a Blue Eyes win as canon.

I did a lot of math last episode that I don’t want to do right now, but how hard do you have to throw a card to do that much damage, and how fast would Seto Kaiba’s baseball pitch be, and how fast is that compared to the baseball pitches of My Hero Academia? I mean we have the stats on all of these things.

It’s a good thing for every one else on this cast that Seto Kaiba has never figured out what dating is. He would destroy them. Of course this is me saying that anyone on this show knows what dating is. Which they don’t.

Also, off screen he threw himself at the mook who is prone on the bottom right corner there. Kaiba just went ape out of no where. He stood perfectly still for about 3 episodes and then he just completely lost his nut all for...Tea?

Because Mokuba’s like “We owe Tea a favor because she failed to climb a bunch of empty boxes?” Like uhhhh way to really awkwardly over-return that favorrrr

Like we have to address the elephant in the room here wearing about 9 belts on all four of his limbs and torso. Seto may have a God card now, but he’s so enamored by his dragon that he’s still in this awkward phase where he really wants to cosplay as his dragon literally all the time but he’s hoping he can pass it off as normal fashion and no one will notice. Kaiba is clearly more involved with his Blue Eyes than anyone else on this show is involved with any other card.

So, the hell is he doing risking his literally irreplaceable Blue Eyes that launched the events of the entire first season?

I’m sure the creators didn’t intend for this to happen. I’m sure they were like “and then he threw his Blue Eyes, because that would be funny!” but when you break this action down, it makes Seto Kaiba--who is supposed to be The Worst--outshine Yugi this episode.

Like first off--Tea? Yugi x Tea is supposed to be the flagship of the show. But Yugi’s kind of tied up right now, so instead, Seto saved her? That pairing just came out of nowhere. And I’ll be honest with you, Kaiba x Tea makes more sense to me than Yugi x Tea, and that is pretty wild that this show made me think about those two in any context.

I mean, it’s not going to happen, the writers would rather just toss a ton of explosions at it rather than leave any space for anyone to talk to each other and say “What the hell do you think you’re doing!? Did you just seriously do that?!” That conversation would have been absolutely hilarious, but it did not happen.

This crane blew up not once, but TWICE.

PS, we have more proof here that this chair was really just a kinky chair because um...look how easy it is to get out of that thing. This is not a real lock.

And second weird thing about Seto tossing his Blue Eyes...

This entire card arc was about Yugi giving away that puzzle to Joey as this beautiful symbol. Yugi said “Listen, Joey, I’ve known you forever, you’re my best friend and you are the sun and moon to me, have the most precious thing I own, even if you throw it into the ocean and destroy it”

But, then on the other side of the harbor Kaiba’s like “Listen, person who’s name I don’t recall, I don’t really know you, I don’t care about you at all, have the most precious thing I own, and I’ll just throw it out over the ocean myself, and on top of that--I’ll destroy one of my own helicopters, too.”

Makes Yugi’s sacrifice look real chump, I gotta be real. Again, I don’t think this was intentional on the writers part, but it sure is a thing that happened and is canon now.

And then no one thanks him. They thank Mokuba instead. No wonder Seto freakin hates them all so much.

And while I was watching, I was thinking “well, Seto’s doing all this because he needs to save Yugi to duel him later” much like Seto’s been trying to do for nearly 10 episodes, but that whole thing where Seto followed Yugi around and was like “I will be dueling you after this is over” is no longer a thing. He gave up on Yugi after saving Tea. No explanation.

You know it feels like every 20 episodes or so, Kaiba will do something real nice and then immediately run away from the situation and switch back to being a jerk again. He’s kind of like a reverse Bakura, but without the ability to force everyone to forget. He’ll be awkwardly hanging back here for the rest of the episode pretending like he doesn’t like these people while Yugi’s off being the worst on the other side of the harbor.

Remember, that Joey’s just snapped out of it, and a low flying helicopter caused a crane to freakin explode behind Yugi without any explanation. Twice. The crane exploded twice.

And then Yugi throws a fireball at himself before the timer hit zero.

I guess he had to do something to show up Seto Kaiba and the only other option left was death.

It was very tragic, and for once, Pharaoh wasn’t there to say anything. I guess the Pharaoh batteries have finally run out, and I’ll be real, the lack of Pharaoh in this episode does more to make this sad than if he was there saying how sad he was. It really is just Yugi there at that moment and we rarely get to see Yugi as just Yugi. I guess that was the way he wanted to be remembered rather than just a vessel for a ghost.

To be clear, this took like ten more minutes and the timer was at like 3 seconds for all of that but in context of the show, he died riiiight before both were tossed into the sea.

So this is exactly Seto and Mokuba S1, right? Like Seto was like “I will jump off his ledge to save my brother’s life!” and Pharaoh was like “WHAT TYPE OF ASSHOLE DOES THIS!?” ya, just checking.

So, ways to defeat Yugi Muto:

Threaten to kill yourself, Steal his stuff mid fight, Rock Paper Scissors, or threaten to kill Joey.

I just want to note that before Yugi tossed that fireball, he finally took the duel disk off. He was like “I gotta die, but I don’t want to die in that.”

Joey, who was very upset by Yugi’s brash decision, desperately looked for a way to save both of them did something that I don’t understand at all.

I’m not sure why the Red eyes attacked Joey (I guess it was a special skill?) But--the game’s over! You can’t lose after you’ve won! What even is the rules of this freakin game?

Whatever, it didn’t matter, Yugi absolutely cannot get hit by fireballs, it’s a real weakness for him. He is out for the count and cannot reach his own key.

Serenity, sensing her brother’s bravery, whisks off her bandages, and this is the first thing she sees.

Ya so.........

..........Yugi’s great wonderful sacrifice of his own life.....

....didn’t matter. Joey went in anyway.....

And that’s how Yugi got upstaged by Kaiba, yet again, in the same episode.

At least the person Kaiba successfully saved is here to start screaming at the ocean instead of like...swimming

In Joey’s defense, he was not there for the long, detailed explanation of how the key system works. He didn’t really know it wasn’t a one key fits all situation.

He’d be the smallest Whole Set in the world but the kid cannot sink. Like look at this. Look at how high this kid treads water without even trying. He’s got his armpits out of the water even. Should have given up the cards and gone to polo.

I love how we went through all that work to get Tristan here and he didn’t even do anything. He jumped in, pushed Yugi a little bit (who as I said before is a natural floater, it’s very impressive), and then Serenity did all the heavy lifting because I guess no one else on this show can swim?

Don’t they live in Japan? An Island? Isn’t it a requirement when you live on an island that gets tsunamis every so often that you must learn how to swim? Like I live in California that only has one coast and we learn how to swim real good. Like we learn all about rip tides and water safety, and we all end up doing the part-time lifeguarding job at least once.

Every single one of these people should be in the water and going after Joey, what is this bystander effect nonsense?

Hey so........she’s fully healed now?

RIP Kaiba x Tea, it was a very weird 2 minutes.

Which, if this guy ever dated, would probably be the tagline of all of his relationships.

Yes, this really was the moment Joey realized his sister could see. AFTER she dove in the ocean to pick him out.

This is real nitpicky but I just noticed the pier that Tea was gone is absent in all of these shots. Maybe they didn’t want to draw the aftermath of what happened to that crane.

Seto doing that anime thing where he’s hiding his eyes because he’s gettin freakin emotional in the back.

He’s all over the place this episode...I don’t know what happened.

And then to cap it off, they decided to watch a romantic sunset at the place where they got abducted, held in a warehouse, possessed by a cult, strapped to a bunch of bondage death devices, and then were nearly murdered at.

Also that ghost ship is still there and way spookier at night. Only Yugioh would be like “a perfect happy tapestry for friendship!”

Not only is Pharaoh still inexplicably here, but so is Kaiba. I guess he decided to hang out with them for like an hour until, at the first instance of Duke saying “CAN WE PLEASE JUST EAT DINNER LIKE NORMS!?” Seto very quickly spun on his heels and ran away as quickly as he could.

Ah, so the tourney continues tomorrow...it’s...this wasn’t the finale? Sure felt like it.

I just realized...the only thing you get is the chance to win a bunch of cards and just a title--a title that Yugi already owns, so if he hadn’t gone into the competition, then you’d have two people with the same title.

Like...is this entire tourney just a honeypot? But for cards? Is this whole tourney just a honeypot tourney?

Kaiba really is a cop.

Anyway, if you just got to these reviews, here’s a link to read them from Episode1 Season1, knock yourself out, it’s Halloween on a Wednesday, I know you’re not doing anything else.

#Yugioh #Yugioh recap #photo recap #S2 ep29 #yugi muto #seto kaiba #joey wheeler #tea gardner #serenity wheeler #mokuba #kaiba #marik ishtar #an exploding crane #an exploding helicopter #tristan taylor #weaponized card throwing #duke devlin

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darknessfactor · 6 years

Note

Prompt: Post-CW. Romanogers. Steve has saved Bucky, and he's rescued his friends, but Natasha is still eluding him, and he realizes that he would tear apart the whole world to find her.

A/N: It’s been 84 years… actually I don’t even remember when I got this prompt because Tumblr asks don’t have timestamps. Anyway! I was supposed to write this a LONG time ago and I… didn’t. So I’m doing it now.

Steve starts in Moscow.

It’s a little bit on-the-nose, but going to the Barton farm is out of the question (especially since Clint’s there, on house arrest), and he doesn’t know any of Nat’s other haunts. If she’d ever talked about the months after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., he might have a better idea of where to look.

Nat’s never been the talkative type, though.

So, Moscow it is. One of the fake IDs from T’Challa is enough to get him across the border and into Russia, and his dyed hair and stubble is enough for most people to not look at him twice. He’s thinking he’ll let the beard grow a bit, to keep his face from being recognized. He keeps a careful eye out for cameras as he walks down the street, checking in at a little hostel where the receptionist is only a little bit critical of his accented Russian.

(It’s almost easier to speak Russian than it is the other languages he’s amassed over time. Natasha had been teaching him, and would slip into it at random moments to keep him on his toes. She’s said that his accent probably can’t be helped. “But at least you can ask where the bathroom is,” she’d said, smirking.)

He’s playing the part of a tourist, but one that was born in Russia, whose parents moved to Switzerland shortly after his birth. That’s how he explains the accent when one of the women in the communal kitchen asks him about it. He’s able to chat amiably enough with the other hostel residents, asking them about the sights in Moscow and where he ought to go.

Someone mentions the Bolshoi, and his mind clicks. He asks directions to the theatre, giving a nod of thanks at the man who tells him. He heads there, wearing his customary baseball cap to keep the sun out of his eyes and a light jacket.

Steve doesn’t find anything at the Bolshoi Theatre, which doesn’t surprise him. He knew that expecting Natasha to be in Moscow was a long shot, but he also knew that he had to start somewhere. He stays in the city a few more days, wandering around, trying to find some kind of clue as to where Natasha might be, but there’s nothing.

After day four, he leaves. He can’t afford to stay in one place for long, anymore.

Steve is a bit more suited to life on the run than he thought he’d be.

The only other time he’s had to deal with it was in D.C., and then it had felt wrong, as though he were sticking out like a sore thumb. It’s easier now - easier to roll with it, to use his ‘natural awkwardness’ (Natasha’s words) to his advantage. Most people look at him and see a good-looking, kind of bumbling guy, and it works, somehow.

He has a couple of close calls. He’s fairly sure he gets made in Monaco, but he books it over to Nice on a bus before he can see who’s after him. He takes a ferry to Moracco and loses himself in the blistering sun for a while. There’s still no hide nor hair of Nat, but everyone else has checked in with him multiple times.

Wanda is somewhere in Hong Kong, apparently with a shaved head, color contacts, and heavier makeup. She explains that it’s a disguise that she and Natasha worked out before everything went to shit, and Steve rolls his eyes at Natasha’s ‘creative streak’.

“You probably could’ve found something a little more low-key,” he points out.

“I am told that that is ‘no fun’.”

Sharon’s playing things close to the chest, slipping back to America and keeping a low profile in Chicago, of all places. Their conversations are friendly, and she gets a laugh out of Steve more than once, but it settles into something more like friendship than what he thought it might be back in Berlin. Either way, he’s always glad to hear she’s doing alright.

Clint and Scott don’t check in - too risky for their families. Sam, however, is currently running around in Cape Town, enjoying the sights, but also keeping an eye out.

“Last person to see her that we know is probably Tony,” he says, during his phone call. “And even then I doubt she said ‘hey Stark, I’m going on the run now, you can reach me at this address’. Not exactly her style, you know?”

Steve snorts. “Nah, her style is more ‘see you never’ and then jumping out a window.”

“Kinda like you?”

“I wouldn’t open the window first.”

“What makes you think she would?”

Steve huffs a laugh.

“Look, man… I doubt we’re gonna find her unless she wants to be found. No news is good news - if we’ve heard nothing, then it means that she’s probably fine. Sitting on a beach somewhere, drinking vodka cranberries. Something with vodka. So why are you so hung up on finding her?”

Steve pauses for a moment, and lets out a long breath. “She didn’t have to do what she did,” he says. “She risked everything to help me and Bucky. Her heart was in the right place more than any of us, and it feels wrong that I just… left her to the consequences.”

“She got out,” Sam says quietly. “She must have. It’d be all over the headlines if she hadn’t.”

“I know.”

“Look,” Sam says. “My advice? Be patient. When she wants you to find her, she’ll let you know.”

Steve’s about five months in to his status as a fugitive when the rumors start. He’s started to build connections outside of the law, even though some of the characters he meets are… less than savory. Still, it makes it easier to have contacts that know the goings-on of the international underworld.

If any of them recognize him, they never show it. Instead, they start nicknaming him ‘Nomad’.

“Big guy like you,” says Rajiv, his contact in India, “you could probably pick up a few jobs. Make some money.”

Steve has been gathering money from various caches that Natasha had insisted he set up after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, but even though he’s been frugal it’s starting to run dry. He considers the idea - mercenary work isn’t exactly all that different than avenging, although it often involves more dirty work. But when he’s playing cards with his contact in Vancouver, he hears some interesting news.

“There’s a new merc on the scene,” Mina tells him. She owns the bar they’re sitting in, and runs guns through it. “Rising star, gaining infamy fast. Like, crazy fast. Never fails a job. She’s good.”

Steve pauses, glancing at his cards. He’s shit at poker, but it’s the best way to loosen Mina’s tongue. “Uh-huh?”

Mina smirks. “All the ones who get their weaponry from me are pissed to hell and back. Lotta people want to give the best jobs to her. Never gives a proper name, though, so everyone just calls her Recluse. Kinda funny, huh, Nomad.”

“Maybe she copied me,” Steve says blandly.

“Maybe, if you’d actually taken any jobs,” Mina retorts. “C’mon, Nomad, everyone who’s worth anything can see that you’re good in a fight. I got a few clients around here who’d be willing to pay you some good money.”

“Recluse, huh?” Steve asks. “I’ll think about it.”

Later, he’s the one to contact Sam. Sam’s voice is groggy, like Steve had just woken him up, but Steve doesn’t give him time to recover. “What’ve you got on a merc named Recluse?”

“A merc?” Sam groaned. “What, are we gonna be vigilantes, now? We taking out big-name mercs?”

“Not sure yet.”

Sam grumbles for a moment, but his voice is more alert when he speaks next. “Recluse, huh? You know, I think I have heard the name come up a few times. No one knows her name, but she’s good. Doesn’t fail a job. She’s getting expensive quickly.”

“Yeah, that’s what I heard, too,” Steve says. “You think it might be…?”

Sam pauses, then starts laughing. Steve opens his mouth to explain his reasoning, but Sam beats him to the punch.

“Nah, sorry,” he says, still laughing. “I’m not laughing because - because I think it’s ridiculous, it’s just - “ He chortles some more. “You ever heard of the recluse spider?”

‘Nomad’ ends up taking a job in Amsterdam. He’s just starting out, so he’s aware that he doesn’t have too many choices, but he manages to get a job taking out a human trafficking boss, and he doesn’t feel all that guilty for that.

It’s fairly simple - he pulls on a mask, beats the shit out of the guy’s security, and breaks the guy’s neck. He grimaces afterwards, but the job is done, and at least it was quick. He would’ve preferred to detain the guy, but he’s had to get his hands dirty before, and now that he’s a ghost, it’s harder to avoid it.

He gets a hefty sum for his work (in cash, thankfully), and a slap on the back from his contact in the city. It’s the first building block for his reputation, and the more jobs he takes, the more people are buzzing about him. He’s careful to dial down his strength as much as he can, so that the various agencies in the world looking for Steve Rogers hear about Nomad and only think about a dangerous but normal mercenary.

“Kicking ass and taking names, Cap,” Sam says, during his next call. “Man, what will people say?”

“A guy’s gotta eat,” Steve answers.

Eventually, he gets asked for by Samia, a retired mercenary living in Algiers, who tells him that she’s got ‘a real big score’ lined up for him. He scouts out around her house before he rings the doorbell, but it’s not Samia who answers.

He feels like he’s been expecting this moment for months, but it still takes him by surprise.

The hair is the biggest change. It’s a platinum blond, now, and it’s short again. The green tac suit is new, too, as are the unusual batons she’s wielding. The smirk she’s wearing as she looks at him, though, is familiar.

“‘Bout time, Nomad,” she teases, waving him inside.

Steve nods at her. “Recluse.”

She looks pleased.

Samia’s eyeing the two of them from the entrance to her kitchen, but she doesn’t seem that alarmed by their exchange. “Didn’t know you two knew each other,” she says.

“We don’t,” they say at the same time.

The job is more of a heist than anything else, but Natasha makes it look natural. They break into a mansion in Malta that has more security than most agency buildings, grab a flash drive from the owner’s bedroom (with the owner sleeping, in the bed, not five feet away from the safe they crack). They’re in and out, no one’s the wiser, and they split their earnings between them.

Steve half-expects... well, he isn’t sure what to expect. He’s grateful, though, when Natasha doesn’t disappear on him, instead accompanying him back to the hotel he’s staying in. He sends her an exhausted, but grateful, smile when she suggests she go buy them some celebratory vodka.

“I know you like vodka,” she calls as she leaves, having changed into street clothes. “Even if it can’t get you drunk.”

Steve takes the time to shower as quickly as possible (the water in his bathroom isn’t always guaranteed to work), and changes into jeans and a sweater just before Natasha gets back. Her eyes are warm as she waves the bottle at him, holding up two glasses.

“Where’d you get those?” Steve asks.

“Borrowed ‘em.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

Even though it’s been nearly a year since they last saw each other (and that hadn’t been under the best of circumstances), their conversation is light and casual. When he relaxes enough it feels like she’s never been gone, and it’s only when he remembers that that he realizes just how much he missed her.

“So,” he says, pouring himself another shot. “Mercenary work?”

Natasha shrugged. “It’s familiar,” she said. At his raised eyebrow, she elaborated, “it’s what I did before S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Thought you were with the K.G.B.”

“I was.” Natasha paused, a haunted look appearing in her eyes. “This was... in-between, I guess. I burned down the Red Room and ran away, and becoming a merc was the only thing I could think of to survive. It was a rough time. Kinda surprised that you picked it up, though.”

Steve chuckled. “Sam figured it out, and I couldn’t really think of a better way to send a message back. Figured you’d know it was me.”

“Big, buff guy named Nomad pulls off jobs with ruthless efficiency only a little bit after I started building a new rep?” She elbows him lightly. “Yeah, it wasn’t hard to figure out.”

“It’s not so terrible,” Steve admitted. “Nice to be able to pick and choose stuff. Most of the time.”

They fell silent, after that. Their glasses forgotten, they opted instead to pass the bottle back and forth between them. Natasha didn’t seem to be the least bit affected by the alcohol, something that Steve had learned not to question.

Steve finally musters the courage to say, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For leaving you to deal with the fallout. At Leipzig.”

Natasha shrugs. “I had it handled. Stark gave me a head start. Which, he was smart enough to know that giving me any kind of head start meant that he wouldn’t be able to find me.”

“Still,” Steve says. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with that on your own.”

Natasha’s smile is hollow, this time. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

The smart thing to do would be for them to split up after Algiers - to go their separate ways so that they have less of a chance of being caught.

They don’t.

Instead, Steve and Natasha end up masquerading everywhere as a tourist couple. Either that, or (when they find a job worth their time) they partner up for work. It reminds Steve of back when they were partners at S.H.I.E.L.D., even though that feels like a lifetime ago.

Pretending to be a couple is almost ridiculously easy - mostly because they like to try to one-up each other with how sickeningly in love their covers are. Natasha’s currently winning, having actually recited poetry while they watched the sunset. (It was somewhat ruined by Steve almost falling over laughing, once they were back at their hotel and away from prying ears.)

Doing mercenary work is even easier. They barely have to talk to anticipate each other’s moves, and planning the jobs is familiar, a relic from their days leading the Avengers together. It’s comfortable, but they’re both careful to keep it from getting too comfortable - always moving on, never quite trusting their contacts in the underworld.

Steve calls Sam two weeks into their partnership.

“Told you so,” Sam says, when Steve explains.

“Hi Sam,” Nat says into the receiver, appearing out of nowhere next to Steve and making him jump and glare at her. She wiggles her fingers at him and then heads to the bathroom to shower.

“Hi Nat,” Sam says, sounding amused.

They’re in a hotel in Tokyo when something shifts. Steve isn’t sure what it is, only that suddenly their hotel room is too confining, and he tells Natasha that he’s going for a quick walk. The streets in Ikebukuro aren’t as brightly lit as other parts of the city, but they calm his sudden anxiety, and he takes longer than he’d expected, wandering the city.

When he gets back, Natasha’s somehow managed to fit herself on the windowsill, staring down at the street below them. She turns her head and shoots him a tired smile.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” he says.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Sleep for Natasha doesn’t seem to happen very often, from what he’s noticed, but this is the first time she’s admitted it out loud. Before he can put too much thought into what he’s doing, he settles himself on his bed and pats the space beside him. It’s not much, but it should be enough room for Natasha.

She raises an eyebrow at him, but Steve just gazes at her. After a long moment, she uncurls from the windowsill and lies down next to him, unreserved as she presses into his side. He wraps an arm around her waist.

It takes maybe half an hour, but eventually he hears a light snore from her, and smiles.

Steve wakes up to find Natasha wearing a hole in the floor.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Natasha proclaims.

Steve pauses in folding his socks. “Uh...”

She stops pacing, and turns towards him, jabbing a finger in his direction. “You. I like you.”

“I like you too...?”

Natasha makes a frustrated noise, and then takes two steps forward and kisses him.

It’s not exactly new - they’ve been kissing each other whenever they’re in public, selling the idea that they’re a couple. But this feels more honest than that, and Steve relaxes, settling his hands on her hips. When she pulls back, she looks a little bit less nonplussed.

They stare at each other, breathing heavily for a few seconds, when Steve says, “You actually had me thinking you were, like... smooth when it came to romance, or something.”

Natasha snorts. “What gave you that idea?”

“Yeah, obviously I should’ve known better. Now I’m just grateful that you never actually succeeding at setting me up with someone, seeing as how it obviously would’ve ended in disaster - “

She shuts him up. Steve doesn’t mind.

#stagpotter #romanogers #romanogers fic #steve x natasha #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #mcu #mcu fic #my fic #amaya writes fanfiction #i'm sorry this is so late maggie #like SO LATE #i'm sorryyyyyyy #also i'm a little rusty on how i like to write their dynamic #unedited

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piecesofscully · 6 years

Text

The After: ch. 2

A/N: please note, the updating schedule is pretty loose, but I’m planning to post new chapters every 2-3 days.

Chapter 1

Scully stands at the sink, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and her hands deep in soapy water. A smile spreads across her face when she feels him come up behind her, grazing his fingertips along the curve of her waist.

His nose nudges against the outer curve of her ear and he whispers, “Hey.”

“Just one more minute,” she says. “Almost done.”

The plates that had served their spaghetti sit clean in the drying rack, and she pulls a drinking glass from the suds and begins to rinse it beneath the faucet. Dinner and a movie had seemed cliche when Mulder suggested it earlier in the week, but the way his fingers are toying with the skin beneath her sweater has her rethinking the eye roll she tossed him before agreeing. His touch is delicate with the prudence of a new lover, but it’s purposeful.

Scully places the glass in the drying rack and turns to him, her face merely inches from his chest. He brushes her hair back, tucking some of it behind her ear, and presses his lips to her temple. Scully sighs and leans into him, then tilts her face upwards, her gaze meeting his.

“You’re ditching me,” she deadpans.

His brows furrow. “What do you-”

“Mulder, there are only two circumstances that prompt you to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Tuck my hair behind my ear. You do it when you assume I need comfort, or, lately, when you’re about to break the news that you’re ditching me,” she answers. “And I’m not in need of comfort.”

He purses his lips, and after a moment he nods, conceding. “I won’t be gone long,” he says. “Two hours, maybe three at most.”

Her eyes narrow and he chuckles. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll bring back some of that chocolate ice cream you like.”

Scully runs her hands up his abdomen, feeling the lean muscles beneath the soft cotton of his t-shirt before they come to rest on his chest. “And?”

“And I promise,” he says as his hands grip her hips and pull her closer, eliminating any space between them, “that you won’t be getting any sleep tonight.”

Scully laughs and kisses him back when he presses his mouth to hers. “Better get moving,” she whispers against his lips. “Don’t want to keep your mysterious informant waiting.”

After one last peck on her lips, he pulls on his jacket and heads for her door.

“Mulder.”

He stops in her doorway, and turns to look at her.

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

His eyes light up when he smiles. “I would never,” he says finally, then closes the door behind him.

“Mul-” Like silk, his name slips with ease from her lips as she wakes, but catches at the tip of her tongue as reality sets in. Her apartment fades as she becomes more alert, her cozy furnishings replaced with the drenched walls and ceiling of the trailer, the white noise of her refrigerator running and murmurs from the TV hushed by the sound of the rain. She immediately covers her mouth with her hand, desperate to preserve the lingering taste of him for a few moments longer.

Over the last two years she’s found herself dreaming of him frequently, more often than she would like to admit, especially to herself. When sleeping her consciousness steals the reigns of control and replays memories from years past, torturing her with his touch, his laugh, his voice. Her mind toys with his existence, reminding her of who he was and who he had become to her.

One minute she’s balled up around her backpack, and the next she’s standing at home base with a bat in her hands, Mulder pressed tightly behind her and the stars shining brilliantly in the night sky. Or she’s relaxing on his leather couch with a cold beer, very aware that his bedroom, the destination for the evening, is just a few steps away. Or they’re in her bed, the early morning sun peeking through the break in the curtains as he shifts his weight over her and settles himself between her legs. His whispered promise that they would make it to work on time earns a chuckle from her, and her skin flushes with fresh goosebumps as his teeth skim across the sensitive flesh of her neck.

With a shake of her head, what’s left of him falls away, and she is left with nothing but the present.

She rubs her eyes with her fingers, and forces herself to listen for any indication of impending danger, but hears nothing. The kitchen is still illuminated under the blue glow of her lantern, and the storm outside has lessened from a torrential downpour to a soft pitter-patter. With a groan, she eases herself into a sitting position, and a shiver rakes across her body. She pulls the blanket tight around her shoulders, balling the excess up in her hands.

Coffee. God, she thinks, she would give anything for a hot cup of coffee right now. She salivates at the thought of it. But coffee is a luxury, and luxuries are not something the After has to offer. Not unless you’re willing to pay the price, and most times that price is far too steep.

Her jaw slacks at an awkward angle as she yawns, raising her arms above her head to stretch the tight muscles that line her spine. The blanket drops to the floor and she quickly gathers her belongings, donning her outerwear and slipping the hunting knife into her boot. She makes no move to close cupboard doors as she rummages through the kitchen, signaling to a future squatter that the place has been picked through and to save their time.

Many things may have been lost in an effort to survive the After, but common decency doesn’t have to be one of them, she thinks. A can of carrots and a can of diced potatoes are added to her backpack before she shrugs it on over her rain coat.

The road looks as it did yesterday, and she takes her place on the yellow center line, continuing her journey down the same path. The air bites at the skin of her cheeks, and she allows some of her hair to fall forward in a lame attempt at warmth. By her calculations it’s early June, the beginning of summer, but the temperature has been falling quickly, a bitter warning that snow is in the forecast.

Following the events of two years ago, the change of seasons has been altered. Winter comes late June, blustering through July and August, and a wet midwestern autumn spreads across the rest of the twelve months. Tornadoes and hailstorms are a constant threat for the most of the year, and the only reprieve is the feet of heavy snow, when it’s too cold for the finger of God to swipe away whoever has managed to survive.

“Hey, lady.”

The prepubescent voice jerks her from her thoughts, and she stops in her tracks when she sees a boy standing a few feet in front of her. He couldn’t be older than fourteen, but he appears to be well nourished. The jacket he wears looks to be a size too small, the zipper pulling at the edges, straining against his little belly. The sleeves fall a few inches above his wrists, and he wears a blue baseball cap to hide his chubby cheeks. Her hands grip the straps of her backpack, tightening them as he steps closer.

“Please, Miss, you gotta have something in that bag,” he says. “My family... we’re all starving.”

“I have nothing,” she insists and takes a step forward, but stops when he sidesteps again into her path. “Let me pass.”

“Just one can of food, anything- even dog food. My younger sister, Mara, she’s five. She’s, like, skin and bones, because of not having enough to eat. You could help her.”

Scully steps forward and pushes past him, but he grips her forearm. “Let me go.”

“But my sister Kara-”

Scully turns to him and glares. “You said her name was Mara.”

The kid stares at her with wide eyes as his mouth opens and closes. Scully can practically see his mind spinning in search of a line to patch up his lie, before he finally screams, “Uncle Chris!”

Out of the corner of her eye Scully sees two men and a woman appear in the road, the group of three swarming around her and the kid as his fingers dig into her wrist.

“I have nothing you want,” she calls.

She looks at the faces of the adults approaching her, her eyes flitting from person to person, taking in their appearances and searching for vulnerability. The man to her left wears a green ratted sweatshirt with the hood pulled over his head, it’s loose fit making his tall and lanky frame appear thin. His shoulders sag with what can only be exhaustion, the most common ailment in the After. A woman stands a few feet behind the kid and appears to be just as thin as the man. Even under the parka that engulfs her, Scully can see the dark circles that bruise the skin beneath her eyes and the way she carefully balances her weight on her right foot. No obvious weapons.

With the clear weaknesses between the two, Scully’s free hand twitches at the thought of the blade tucked safely in her boot. It would only take a moment to reach down and-

A jerky movement to her right catches her attention. Scully turns to look at the last adult, the man she’d nearly forgotten about, and gasps. His dark hair hangs in short spikes around his face, directing her gaze to his protruding nose and full lips. If it weren’t for his brown eyes, she would have sworn that it was Mulder.

“Just give them your backpack, lady,” the kid says. “We wanna get out of The Wash as much as you do. Just hand it over, and you can go.”

“No one has to get hurt here,” the Mulder lookalike says. The others nod in agreement, and all falls quiet. The beat of silence feels as if it stretches on for hours as Scully remembers the woman from Ohio, the memory of her blood-stained sweater creeping from the back of her mind. She remembers praying as she pulled the boots from the woman’s lifeless feet, and the many apologies she whispered as she searched her pockets before finding a knife along the inner lining of the woman’s jacket.

The law of survival.

Scully closes her eyes and sighs deeply, before taking a final look at the four strangers, and whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“Whatcha say?” the woman in the parka asks.

Time seems to slow as the three adults shift on their feet, but Scully says nothing as they advance on her. The woman reaches out, but before she’s able to make contact, Scully breaks free of the kid and shoves him. He stumbles back and trips on his feet, landing on his butt with a startled “oomf.”

They appear stunned at her sudden act of aggression, and Scully takes advantage of their lapse of control by leaning down and pulling the knife from her boot. She spins on her heels and shoves into the woman’s left side, knocking her back. Scully slashes her knife to the left and the right, and the woman cries out as the blade cuts through the down filling of her jacket, slicing twice into her upper arm. The woman recoils, wailing as she limps back a few steps, cradling her bleeding arm to her chest.

In her periphery, Scully vaguely registers seeing the kid lose a shoe as he scurries backwards, still on his bottom, with wide eyes.

The man in the green hoodie rushes Scully with his arms opened wide, and she ducks beneath them, then loops her arm around his neck, pulling him to her as she thrust her six inch blade into his lower back.

“Chris!” Scully hears the Mulder lookalike scream.

Drips of blood fling into the air as she wrenches her knife free and turns around, paying no attention as her attacker slumps to the ground with a deep groan. Instead, she glares at the last man standing, watches as he squares his shoulders.

“Colin, get outta here,” he hollers over his shoulder without taking his eyes off of Scully. The kid grabs his shoe and sprints out of sight without putting it back on.

Scully’s chest heaves as she struggles to control her breathing, each breath thinning the adrenaline that surges through her veins. Her fingers tighten around the butt of the knife, and she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her eyes daring him to make a move.

“Don’t follow the kid, Red,” he says through gritted teeth. His hands ball into tight fists.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Scully replies.

The Mulder lookalike glances back at the woman in the parka, then to his friend that lay bleeding at Scully’s feet. “Take your shit and-” he starts, but is interrupted by the woman.

“What? No fuckin’ way, she doesn’t get to just bail!”

Scully cringes under the feeling of his eyes scanning over her, trailing from her head down to her boots, then back up again. He smirks. “She’ll get hers,” he says finally.

A trial sized container of shampoo rolls from the pocket of the fallen mans sweatshirt, claiming Scully’s attention as it bumps into her boot. Holding the Mulder-lookalikes glare, Scully squats to retrieve her souvenir, then takes her time wiping the blood that coats her knife onto her pants and tucks the blade into her boot. Then, without another word, she pushes past the man and woman, training her eyes from the road before her, refusing to look back at the group. With each step she purposely keeps an easy gait, slowly putting more distance between them. Running shows fear, and fear leaves you bleeding to death in the middle of the road. Her hands begin to shake once her footfall drowns out their bickering about how to handle their fallen friend.

The group is a distant memory when Scully approaches the road’s end, forcing her to choose which way to continue her journey- left or right. Both directions appear the same- long stretches of asphalt, equally deserted and wet. A greyish brown swampland lay open before her, extending to the horizon’s edge like a sea of chocolate malt. It feels like a lifetime ago that she and Mulder were met with the same predicament, chasing trains carrying the alien virus in the dead of night, surrounded by desert and cornfields. He’d chosen to continue straight ahead, staying true to his rebellious nature and forging his own path.

Scully stands stoically at the intersection, and slips her hand under her jacket, mindlessly brushing the edge of Mulder’s picture. Her faith in mankind may have faltered, but her faith that she will find him hasn’t. She has been vigilant in her search for him. Long days were spent along the new coast, and hundreds of miles were walked inland. She looks for him in each face that passes, examining the men in every bar and brothel. His picture has been laid with hope on many tables, only to be crushed by the the words ‘never seen him’ or ‘looks familiar, but couldn’t tell ya which way he went.’

New town, same disappointment.

She runs her thumb along the corner of his picture one last time, closes her jacket, and strides with her head held high to the left. She’ll find him. The journal that hides at the bottom of her backpack may be the true purpose of her journey northwest, but she’ll never stop looking for him.

>>>Next Chapter>>>

#the after #the after chapter 2 #my writing #msr fanfic #txf fanfic

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sosmark · 7 years

Text

twice in a lifetime | 01

pairing: Jinyoung x Reader

genre: fluff with a bit of drama

word count: 2.3k

a/n: ok so this is the first chapter of series I have been working on for awhile! Big thanks to @wenotes and @hobijoon for helping me out with this! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

“I don’t know how you do it, babe.”

You sighed looking at the mess on the desk. Sheets of paper, everything from reading assignments to flyers for a frat party were cluttered across the surface, accompanied by the remnants of old water bottles and some ramen cups.

“I don’t either,” he said with a breathy laugh.

You looked at him. A beautiful smile graced his face as he sat at the cluttered desk. There was that famous Jinyoung grin, the same one on an old campaign poster that hung on the wall above you.

“Jinyoung Park, GOT president,” you read aloud.

He moved to stand next to you, staring up at the poster with a proud smile on his face. You wrapped your arms around his waist giving him the warmest smile you could muster.

“I believe in you.”

He smiled down at you, pushing a strand of hair off your forehead, replacing it with his lips. You laid your head on his chest, melting into his embrace.

“Thank you,” he sighed, resting his head on top of yours.

You hummed in acknowledgment before letting the silence overtake you both. Jinyoung held you in his arms, swaying and humming some calm, silent melody.

“Okay, enough. You need to get back to work on your essay. I’m gonna go grab us some food. What do you want?” You asked, walking over to your purse to grab your keys.

Jinyoung shook his head, “Just grab some ramen.”

With a smile on your face, you nodded, sprinting down the stairs and out the front door. The convenience store was only a few blocks away, a short distance to walk considering any other food establishment would require a longer commute. Plus, you had been coming here for as long as you had been dating Jinyoung, so it was kind of like a tradition. With a ding of the bell, you stepped inside.

“Hey, Mark,” you smiled, walking past the quiet brunette who stood behind the counter.

He nodded in your direction, an unspoken hello, one you had grown quite accustomed to. You heard the familiar bell of the front door chime and a stranger strolled through the doors. You watched as he walked past you, giving Mark a curt nod. Dark sunglasses shaded the stranger’s face, along with an old baseball cap. You barely noticed the inky black hair peeking out beneath the back of the cap while desperately trying to focus on scanning the shelf before you to choose your ramen.

Finally grabbing something suitable for both Jinyoung and yourself, you approached the checkout. You had a hard time keeping the cups in your hand while you rummaged through your jacket pocket looking for your wallet, just to realize that you undoubtedly left it at Jinyoung’s.

“Shit!” You cursed silently, catching Mark’s attention.

Mark furrowed his brows, looking up from his phone. He watched in amusement as you hastily grabbed at yourself, hoping that for once you didn’t forget something of necessity.

“Again, Y/N?”

You felt your face flush red, digging through your pockets to find your phone and text your boyfriend. Sighing, you realized you left that at home as well.

“I’m sorry…” you said sheepishly.

Mark let out a chuckle, “Who doesn’t have 2 dollars to spend on ramen?”

You sighed, “Apparently, me. I’ll be right back.”

You turned to leave but you felt a hand on your wrist keeping you in place. Looking up you noticed the guy from before, a smile resting on his lips.

“Let me,” he spoke, nodding towards the ramen.

You looked towards Mark who just shrugged. He was probably just happy that he didn’t have to bail you out this time.

“No, it’s fine, I can run home and grab my wallet.” You laughed nervously.

“It’s 2 dollars, it’s fine,” he chuckled, letting go of your hand. “And no, you don’t have to pay me back. Like this guy said, who doesn’t have two dollars for ramen?”

You smiled, a tinge of blush creeping to your cheeks, “Ok.”

He nodded, cracking a smile as he pulled out his wallet to pay.

“Thanks..” you murmured, a timid smile on your face.

He nodded and you turned towards the door with your ramen in hand, rushing out before anything could get more awkward. Like some mysterious guy just paid for your dinner because you seemed to forget everything. A sigh escaped you as you made your way up to the apartment. The house was quiet when you finally stepped inside.

“I’m home!” You called, locking the door behind you.

You walked into the kitchen to set the bag down only to find Jinyoung sitting at the kitchen table with a stern look on his face.

“You forgot your wallet,” he stated.

“I know…”

“And your phone.”

“Yep…”

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” He asked, his hands crossed firmly over his chest.

“I’m sorry…?” It came out as more of a question than a statement. Jinyoung rolled his eyes.

He scoffed, “You always are.”

“I really am sorry, geez,” you admitted, pulling the ramen cups from the bag which only made Jinyoung quirk a brow at you in question.

“How is it that even when you forget your wallet, you still manage to bring home food?”

“Magic,” you giggled, pouring the water into the ramen cups.

Jinyoung rolled his eyes, taking a seat at the table. You quickly placed the cups in the microwave, both at once since you were hungry and too impatient to microwave them individually like normal people would.

“Did you make any progress on your essay?” You asked, turning towards Jinyoung. He shook his head.

“Too busy worrying about me,” you mumbled, watching the cups revolve slowly in the microwave.

Jinyoung’s breathy laugh captured your attention, pulling your focus away from the oh-so-fascinating noodles.

“Do you have something to say?” You quipped. He shook his head, a big grin plastered on his face.

“Mmmm,” you pursed your lips, narrowing your eyes.

The ding from the microwave caught you off guard, making you jump. Jinyoung laughed as you carefully grabbed the cup of hot noodles with an oven mitt.

“I hate you, Park Jinyoung,” you mumbled, setting the cups down on the table.

“No you don’t,” he chuckled, a large grin on his face as he pulled you onto his lap, leaving a soft kiss on your temple.

“Whatever…”

beep!…beep!…beep!…

You groaned, slamming your hand down on the snooze button of your alarm. Rolling over, you were faced with an empty bed and a slight twinge in your heart. Jinyoung was normally always there when you woke up, which made it your favorite reason to get up so early in the morning.

You grabbed your phone in search of an answer and much to your surprise there weren’t any text messages or missed calls, just a blank screen that displayed a selfie of you and Jinyoung. You smiled as you looked down at the picture before unlocking your phone and typing a quick text to your boyfriend. A loud ringing sound played in the silent air of your bedroom before Youngjae’s face filled up your screen, effectively halting your fingers from typing out anymore words. With a sigh, you answered the phone.

“Gooooood morning!” His voice was always too overly cheery for early mornings.

You winced pulling the phone slightly away from your ear. “Youngjae.”

“Good, you’re awake,” he cheered and you could imagine the smile that was on his face, even over the phone.

“Barely,” you mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck as you slowly got out of bed.

“Are you still giving me a ride to campus?” He asked as you began to rummage through your closet for something to wear.

You stopped for a moment let Youngjae’s word sink in. Then gasped, “Oh crap that’s today?”

“Yeah. Didn’t Jinyoung tell you he had some work to do at the GOT house…?” he asked with a slight chuckle.

“He forgot to mention it…” you muttered, slipping your shirt over your head while still trying to hold the phone to your as you talked with Youngjae.

You heard some muffled voices in the background, obviously belonging the other GOT boys. You heard someone whisper something like, “He’s screwed,” and an uproar of laughter followed soon after. Shaking your head, you sighed, “I’ll see you in a bit, Jae”

After hanging up, you finished getting ready for the day as quickly as you could. Shoving your feet into your shoes, you made your way to the door, double checking that you had everything.

The morning air was crisp and you were glad you had a jacket. You snuggled into Jinyoung’s hoodie as you walked the short distance down to your car.

The sun was rising, painting the sky a beautiful shade of orange that you admired from the comfort of the driver’s seat. You smiled to yourself as you started the car; if only Jinyoung was here to share this with you. Shaking your head, you pulled out onto the road, slowly making your way towards the GOT house.

The fraternity wasn’t that far from campus, yet Youngjae was always asking you to give him a ride. It didn’t bother you much, he was your best friend and you would do anything for him, but sometimes you wish he would carpool with someone else or maybe drive himself. Although the thought of Youngjae behind the wheel was slightly scary, it also made you chuckle as you pulled into his driveway.

To Sunshine: I’m here… and I gotta get coffee so hurry up.

From Sunshine: omw!

Youngjae came bounding down the driveway, backpack bouncing against his back and a goofy grin plastered across his face. Taking his backpack off with a swing and clutching it to his chest, Youngjae opened the door and plopped right next to you in the passenger’s seat.

“So, coffee?” You asked with raised brows.

Youngjae buckled his seatbelt and grinned at you. “Let’s go.”

You nodded turning up the radio, putting your car in reverse. An uneventful silence fell over the both of you as you drove towards the coffee shop.

“How was your weekend?” You asked in an attempt to break it.

“Quite boring. No good parties,” he shrugged. “You?”

“About the same. Jinyoung scolded me last night, so that was fun,” you said with a chuckle.

“You forgot something?” He asked.

“Obviously,” you said as you drove into the drive thru.

“Wallet? Or was it your phone? Maybe your keys, like that one time you forgot your keys were inside your locker and then locked them in there,” he jeered. You slapped his chest earning a whine from him.

“I forgot my wallet at the house when I ran to the convenience store to grab ramen. I came back with some anyway, so he wasn’t that mad,” you shrugged, pulling up to the menu.

You ordered your drinks, a small iced coffee for yourself and Youngjae’s favorite, a caramel macchiato before pulling up to the window.

“So how did you come back with ramen if you forgot your wallet?”

“Oh, some guy paid for it. Seemed rather happy to, actually.” you shrugged.

“Huh, maybe he thought you were cute.” Youngjae grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

You groaned as the girl opened the window. “$7.85,” she said with a smile before you handed her your card.

“Oh look, you remembered,” Youngjae teased. You rolled your eyes at his smart remark, turning towards the window where the girl handed you back your card along with a receipt.

“Why are you my best friend?” You asked pulling up to the next window.

Youngjae shrugged, “Why are you so forgetful?”

You glared at him. A smug grin rested on his lips and you held back the urge to smack it off. The window opened revealing the barista who held your drinks. Quickly grabbing them from his hands, you thanked him, giving the beverages to Youngjae. You pulled out of the drive-thru and back into the street where you continued on towards campus. The parking lot was practically full and you reminded yourself why coffee was a bad idea.

“Maybe coffee wasn’t such a good idea,” Youngjae said, voicing your exact thoughts.

You finally found a spot in the back much to your disappointment. After turning off the car, rotating the key and pulling it out from behind the steering wheel, a sigh fell from your lips.

“Just have to get through this year.”

You turned to Youngjae with a weak smile and exited the car. Youngjae followed closely behind, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he waited for you to retrieve yours from the backseat.

“Ready?” He asked moving in front of your car, drink in hand.

You nodded after locking your car and linked arms with him as you walked towards campus. There was a steady hum that floated through the air, snippets of conversations and laughter fill your ears as you neared the courtyard.

“You ok?” Youngjae asked shaking you from your daze.

You hummed a positive, to which he gave you a soft smile.

“You miss JYP?”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a scoff. “Just because you’re ‘brothers’ does not mean you can give him a ridiculous nickname.”

“You’re bitter this morning,” Youngjae scoffed in return, adjusting the straps of his backpack as he did.

You noticed a familiar black baseball cap lined with inky black hair bobbing through the hallway. You stopped then, accidentally stepping on Youngjae’s toe.

“Dude,” Youngjae groaned, squinting over towards you.

“Are you ok?” He asked while shaking your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just thought I saw someone,” you mumbled continuing onto your class as if nothing had happened.

“Well, this is a college campus and there are a lot of people here.” Youngjae chuckled.

You rolled your eyes, “Let’s just get to our lecture before we’re late.”

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the-tormented-writer · 7 years

Text

Stories For Monday pt. 1/2

Summary: When he- they, came to you that fateful morning, you didn’t know what you were signing up for. Ok-that’s a lie, You did. Hell, everyone saw the headlines: “Steve Rogers and Associates On The Run!” “Has Rogers Turned His Back On the People He Swore To Save?” Ugh, ya know, nothing good comes from watching the news now a days, and everyone’s trying to make a few dollars, even if it’s tearing down another. But Steve Rogers, he was a friend, we’ll sort of. Ok- You didn’t really know him…personally or even met him. Hey! Don’t judge. Anyway, this is my story. And if you’re reading this, it’s become your story too. The story of how you die and everything in between.

Words: 3,254

Warnings: maybe language

A/N- I know I’m a bit rusty

————————————— It began by doing your brother- Sam, a massive favor….

You frowned, lazily gripping the toothbrush, using your freehand to grip the corner of the sink to keep yourself from swaying. You were brushing the taste of liquor and bad decisions out of your mouth from the night before, when you heard the sound of pounding on the front door. “Hold on a min…” You attempt to gurgle out around the foam in your mouth. You move to spit as the knocks become more incisive. Leaning out of the doorway, you look down the hall towards the door. Shuffling softly You grabbed an umbrella before peeking out the peephole. Sam stood arms crossed, wearing multiple layers of clothing. He looks pissed. Rolling your eyes you begin to unlock the door. “Why are you banging on my door Sam? You’ll wake the dead!”

“Looks like I already have!” He laughed clapping his hands together.

“Meeeh!” You mock laying your weight against the door frame.

He calms himself looking around, “Are you gonna make me stand out here or you gonna invite a brotha in?”

“Well I dunno. You gonna behave?”

“Always.” He walks in quickly shutting the door behind him. He turns to face toy without skipping a beat. “Hey why do you have an umbrella? You weren’t gonna hit me with that were you? Awww little sis. Remember honey, umbrellas are for rain.”

“Shut up and talk. I know you’re not here for a visit.”

“Sis, We’re in deep.”

“That’s funny. I could have sworn you said ‘we’ but there’s only you. I told you running off with them would lead to nothing but trouble!”

“Now you know that’s not true. I’ve done a lot of good.”

“What has all that good done for you now? It means nothing. Everyone’s after you and your group. Read my lips, EV-ER-Y ONE! And I don’t even want to know how you got out of a maximum security prison.”

“How do you..? Well I could tell you about it. It’s quite a story, but I need something first.”

“Of course you do! I knew there was a catch! Go on Wilson, I’ll give you all the money I have but you can’t -”

“You were taking longer than expected and that car outside is very small.”

You look over Sams shoulder to see a tall man dressed similar to him. The voice sounded familiar, you stood shocked that someone had mysteriously entered your home without you noticing. Your eyes widened at the strangers.

“Oh yeah, sorry Steve. We were just having a family moment.” Sam looks back to you.

“You mean a family crisis.” You sneer, still gripping on to the umbrella.

“Ma'am.” The figure strides hurriedly in your direction, “I’m Steve Rogers-”

“Ok. First off how old do I look for you to refer to me as ma'am?” Resting your free hand on your hip, you watch Steve remove his sun glasses. “I know who you are! You’ve been around for a while, I would have thought you’d be up to modern speech by now.”

Hearing footsteps from another part of the house you whirl around to see three others appear.

“Whew. She’s a feisty one.”

“Damn it Lang!”

“You!” Motioning towards Sam, “Kitchen. Now! And for the rest of your little entourage- yeah.. make yourself at home but don’t touch anything.”

“Come on don’t be like this.” He looks back at you following him, away from the others.

“Be like what?”

“Like a mom.” He stops in the middle of the living room. You exhale signifying your annoyance. “Someone’s gotta to be the responsible one! I thought it was just you and me? Then you ran off and joined a boy band leaving me here.”

“The Avengers are not a boy band. Sis, I hate it when you’re like this.”

“YOU hate it?! I was left here! Worrying about you day and night! I had not one email, or letter, a freaking carrier pigeon would have sufficed! Nothing! Sam I didn’t know if you were alive-”

“But I’m here now.” Sam grabbed your wrists bringing your hands towards him as he sat on an arm of a nearby sofa. “That’s what’s important. And like I said, I need your help.” He looked up at you with those big brown eyes. Those eyes that say, 'sorry mom I broke a window in the neighbors yard with my football.’

“We all do, miss.” A gruff voice spoke calmly from behind Sam.

“Damn it, Samuel!” Shrieking, yanking your arms from him. You roll your eyes stomping away. “I’m not talking to you, Captain Rogers. WE are having a FAMILY meeting. He is MY family, not yours!”

Sam rolled his eyes heading toward you, “Don’t go getting yourself all worked up.” He rubbed your arm fake pouting.

Steve walked onto the discolored linoleum floor pausing midway from you. “Maybe not but he is my friend. A close friend.” His eyes look downcast. His face appeared aged and worn.

Shaking your head you started over, resting your palms against the kitchen sink. “Please Sam, I’ve lived between worked up and plain crazy for quite sometime now, If you already can’t tell from my appearance. I’ve been questioned- multiple times about your and your 'teams’ disappearance.”

“Did she just use air quotes?” Scott questions, running a finger over his bottom lip.

Natasha and Wanda elbow him swiftly, recrossing there arms in their own laps.

Scott draws closer, moving from Beig sandwiched between the two weary women to Steve’s shadow, “That doesn’t sound too bad-”

You cut him off, raising your hand, “I’ve been wired- that was fun and my phone tapped. I’ve been followed. Where you ask? Everywhere! Pick a place! I’ve been threatened, held at gunpoint and did I mention tortured?” Lifting an eyebrow, you look around at their shocked expressions after listing off everything I had been through. “Ok- mildly tortured, but still a fucking scary experience mind you- all because of your precious leader!” You glare at Steve. He shook his head with his eyes flicking to Sam. Sam was massaging his temples while the others sat motionless and quiet.

“And I apologize- for all of it.” Steve piped up. Finally, after avoiding your line of sight he was ready for you to give him the look he had grown accustomed to seeing. The look he had seen on Tony’s face the last time he had seen him. “I’m sorry, that you had to go through that.”

“Well,.. Thank you.” You mumbled, his apology catching you off guard. You looked to the other members of his broken team, shuffling into the kitchen one by one. They were battered, fatigued.

Sam smirked, arms against his chest. “Ready to hear us out?” The others turned to you. You looked at Natasha now dawning almost platinum short hair, Even under her makeup one could tell Wanda’s cheeks were more sunk in than normal, Scott Lang wore more stubble than you would have imagined, and Steve. Steve’s hair was longer, touching the tips of his shoulders, matching his full beard. The bags under is eyes pulled at your heart.

“Nope!” You simply say, spinning around headed back into the family room. “I like it here Sam. No one knows I’m here- except my editor .”

“Wait what happened to your Job at-”

“Shh, I’m not talking about that right now.” You sigh, rubbing your forehead.

“Sam this was a mistake-” Steve began.

Sam hovers over you, “Listen, you know I wouldn’t have come here if I had any other choice, right?” Sam gripped your shoulders making you face him, “The last thing I ever wanted to do was put you in any danger. Why do you think I’ve stayed away for so long?”

You look at the others, sighing. “Yeah ok. So what does Steve Rogers and his band of misfits need?”

“A place to stay- a safe house.” Steve looked at you, removing his baseball cap. “

"And the first thing you thought was mom and dads lake house?!?” You scoff, walking around Sam heading for the linen closet. “Of course. I guess you can and they can stay. Everyone can stay.” You threw your hands up just as Sam threw his arms around you lifting you into the air, leaving a big sloppy kiss on your cheek.

“Thanks.” He smiles, looking out towards the others. “She said we can stay!” He yells. The others dismiss themselves. Either to remove their jackets and shoes or bring in what little belongings they had from their car.

“Don’t thank me just yet alright?” You return with your arms stacked with folded blankets. “I’m out here trying to take a break from the city, and work on-”

“The novel. Yes. I had forgotten.” Sam wags a finger at you, distributing the items you recovered.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, how popular is this book?” Scott softly speaks unsure of your reaction.

“It’s just something I’ve been working on..” You shrug your shoulders.

“For an extended amount of time.”

“Well I had some hick ups.”

“You mean break ups.”

“Ahem!” You slap Sam on the back passing by.

“You’ve been working on the book since he joined, haven’t you? Knew it!” Scott spoke slapping his knee.

“Just for the record-” You yell over your shoulder, heading upstairs, “I was team iron man.”

“That’s cold! real cold.” Sam retorts shaking his head.

“Boo!” Scott hollers, giving you a thumbs down. He turned to Wanda passing her a blanket. “I like her. She’s spunky. I like spunky.”

———

You knocked on the wood frame of the entree way. “Rise and shine guys. I’ve got the guest rooms ready.” You hear grumbling from the folded out sofa beds. “Due to how many of you there are- everyone might have to bunk up.”

“Ok. Sounds like a soundproof plan.”

“Calm down tiger.” Natasha yawns, her hair mildly staticky.

“I’m sure we are all adults here. Pick your bunk buddy.” You snicker. When scot and sam shoot a cut-throat glance at you, you clear your throat over the high pitch sound. “Well me and you can bunk together big bro!” You say sarcastically. “It’s only far . Natasha and Wanda, Scott and Steve. But we’ll have one room left. Are you expecting any other teammates?”

Steve looks over at Sam, “Bucky’s best in wakanda. He’s safe and I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.”

“Got it.” You nod, “Oh, Where’s the one that shoots arrows?”

“Clint Barton’s At his farm. In short, he’s safe too. Right where he’s needed most- With his family.”

“Ok. Well, it’s up to Sam but since you’re the leader I figure-”

“No we’re imposing on you. Why don’t you guys keep your rooms-ok?”

“Steve-”

“Sam, It’s the least we can do. Scott and I can share right, Lang?”

Sam leaned in towards Steve, “Listen you may not want to hear this but you’ve got a hell of a lot more things going on than running for your life. You take the empty room. Scott will be with me, besides we can work on our team building while you think of a way to get us out of this shitty spot we’re in.” Sam picks up his duffle bag, “Lang grab your crap and follow me.”

“This place is honestly bigger than I thought it would be.”

“Really now?”

“Considering your brother tends to exaggerate- just from time to time.”

You laughed loudly, bringing up a hand to cover the sound. To your surprise Steve joined in. At that moment you knew what ever fan girl meant by how handsome Steve Rogers actually was. His eyes ever so slightly crinkled at the edges, seemed to have gained back some sparkle that was thought to have been sniffed out from the previous months. His teeth were bright and white.The others exchanged glances watching the interaction between you and him.

———

“So Cap, what was all that- that tee heeing you were doing with my sister?” Sam rounded Steve, flopping some fresh clothes and toletries on the dresser.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t. Steve. I haven’t seen you laugh in like -”

“Oh Earlier? It was funny, that’s all. It caught me in a weird- I don’t know. She seemed- like I said, it was funny, at the time.”

“Not you too!”

“Not me too what?”

“Ugh. When we were growing up I couldn’t bring any and I mean any of my friends over, or they would just ogle her.”

“Ogle?”

“You know-Stare at? Drool over? Like she was a peace of meat.”

“Ah. Ok and…”

“You’re being sucked into her vortex of love and sexual prowlessness.”

Steve lets out a hearty laugh, “Oh God Sam. No.”

“You’re getting drawn into her.” Sam began. Steve heard a thump in the hallway as Sam continued… “She’s a good girl, like too good.”

Ok.“ Steve responds, opening the bedroom door to see you stumble, keeping one hand on the wall with another tightly wrapped around the lip of a vodka bottle. Steve turns his head back towards Sam’s direction, "Exactly how good is she?”

“She Stays out of trouble, unlike myself nowadays. She hates attention- any kind it doesn’t matter. Doesn’t drink or smoke-”

Steve watched as you remove your cigarette from your bottling lip. His eyebrows shoot up watching you begin to blow rings into each of the light fixtures you pass by.

“-Level headed, but a stuck up perfectionist and all around, what we call a goodie goodie.”

Steve absentmindedly licks his bottom lip watching you bend over picking up something off the ground, revealing a rose tattoo on your lower back.

“Really now?” Steve rasps, swallowing hard he shut the bedroom door.

“Yes really. So make sure you put everything you use back and exactly the way you found it.”

“Hey are you sure? she may have changed. She might not be the same-”

“Oh trust me. The one thing my sister doesn’t do- is change. ”

———

Besides having to go into town more than usual, having half of the avengers team wasn’t half bad. You were definitely cooking more frequently and really got a taste of how it must have been living with them. Sometimes a tad messy though even with all the movies and board games, you could tell they were becoming nervous and stir crazy the following weeks.

“Hey,” You spoke over Steve’s shoulder, startling him a bit. “I thought I wouldn’t be able to startle an Avenger?”

“I’m not an Avenger anymore.”

“Says who?”

“Everyone.”

“Anyway- umm I figure we could have fish tonight but Sammy’s all thumbs when it comes to fishing. Would you mind helping me out?”

He placed his magazine off to the side looking at you. “What?”

“Nothing.” Clearing your throat you look around unsure what to do.

“Why ask me and not-”

“Really, miss Romanoff fishing? And Scott’s weird. Cmon!!” You grown, looking back at him.

“I don’t think…”

“Please don’t make me beg.”

“What- ” a laugh creeps through his lips. “Beg?” He questions.

You proceeded to get on your knees, resting my arms over the arm of the couch. “Oh please Captain America, I’d love it if you were to accompany me-”

Steve frowns, “I’m no ones captain.” he growls. Getting up he rushes towards Sam’s room closing the door behind him.

“Ohhhh. What was that about?” Natasha looks in from the kitchen. “Oh that one…Trust me y/n, I’ve tried- multiple times- ways to make him not be so down on himself.”

“Welp! I’ll just leave him to his brooding. You’ll know where I’ll be.”

“And where is that exactly?”

“There’s a lake aways from here. You can see it from the porch.”

“Ok. Have fun.” She gave a saluting wave, before blowing off a mug of tea.

—–

You sat on a towel, hands shaking from the wind coming off the lake. You had done a better job fishing than ever before, just waiting on one more nibble before heading inside. Suddenly, you felt a blanket fall over your shoulders. You start to look upward when Steve plops down beside you. “You looked a bit chilly.”

“You could tell that all from the porch? Well…thanks, I appreciate it. Sorry I ended up out here longer than-”

“No worries. The fish bitting?”

“Oh yeah! I want to just make sure I have enough for everyone.”

“Look, I can’t express how much your gratitude means to me and for the others. We haven’t had it easy..” His voice drifted, watching the soothing waves before us.

“I can imagine. Looking over your constantly shoulder. Yeah, been there and I didn’t even do anything wrong. Wait, I’m sorry that came out-”

“You’re right you didn’t deserve that.”

“Neither did you and your friends.”

We both sat quietly while minutes passed, watching as the sun began setting. It’s reflection bounced off the lake. You could feel Steve face you, keeping your gaze on the sparkling lake.

“So you gonna spill about why you’re supposedly no longer an Avenger.”

Steve let out an long sigh, propping himself up with his hands. “Haven’t you heard? They’re no more. Disband thanks to me.”

You nodded, looking across the vast body of water before us. “You know, no matter what may disturb this lake it still remains? If it rains, flood abit- it still stays. When there’s a drought, it may shrink but stands its ground.” You lean over grabbing a rock, “if I throw this in, the water ripples. The ebb and flow of the waves change for a split moment.” I shuffled over to the edge of the sand throwing it. You listen for it to make a plopping noise. It causes ripples that spread across the dark velvety water. “And Now the lake isn’t quite the same, It’s got one more extra rock inside of it. But see how calm it is now? It has adjusted and continues to be… well a lake.” You finish taking your seat back on the blanket. “Ok maybe that was a bad analogy. Horrible. It sounded great in my head.”

“No I get it. That was good. You’re saying, because of all this adapt, focus and move forward.”

“Now you sound like the star spangled man with a plan already!Oh god, I’m sorry.” You cover your face. Suddenly your face feels hot with embarrassment.

“Yeahhh…”

“That just tumbled out.. man, I’m soo sorry.”

“It’s fine. Thank you. I- I needed that. I needed this.” Steve reaches for the fishing pole, pulling his hand back quickly when you go to slap it.

“Oh no sir. You’re not MY captain! Get your own fishing pole.” You pointed to the ones not far from you. His laugh was boisterous as he shot up to grab his own pole. Even in the moonlight you knew this would be the start of your demise.

———

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