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roseknightred · 2 years

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Santa’s Babies (OT3)

AO3

Ship: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer (Pre-Slash)

Fandom: Leverage | Missing Scene(s) from s5 e14 ‘The Toy Job’

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences (for swearing and an implied bj)

Words: 7,571 (One-Shot)

~*~

The team is on another job.

Corrupt toy CEO this time.

A puppy plushie with a level 3 choking hazard of all things. Turns out the material its nose is made out of will expand significantly in contact with bodily fluids, risking infant deaths upon swallowing… And we all know it will get swallowed by some kid. 'Get that out of your mouth' is just as common a phrase to new parents as it is pet owners.

Eliot's even growled the phrase more times than he can count with Things 1 and 2 under his wings. Mostly in regards to the junk they try to pass off as food but the sentiment stands.

Parker's breaking into one of their vaults to get the safety inspection records but if Eldon was fired for not cooking the books chances are they just got someone else to do it instead.

Nate's voice brings him back to the conversation over coms, "I'm saying that we, ah, we went overboard on Christmas gifts last year."

"Nate, I love my Ecosse motorcycle from last Christmas. Compliments of my Santa-baby," the distinctive sound of Parker's drill starting up.

Eliot barely suppresses his eye roll. "You spent $100,000 on a motorcycle?" he hisses at Hardison next to him. It's not the money Eliot's frustrated about, though the 25 dollar Walmart waffle press he received stings just a tad stronger, it's the arrogant indulgence. Parker has perfectly functional bikes of varying calibers and in the year she's apparently had it he hasn't seen her use it once. With her obsession with money it's probably sitting uselessly in a vault, Hardison customizing aforementioned functional bikes for her anyway.

Speaking of customization, Hardison just continues to solder more equipment like it's a regular Tuesday and it's no different than knowing their coffee order. "Don't hate the gift. Hate the elf."

"I do hate the elf." Well, Eliot really really wants to hate the elf, but Parker deserves to be spoiled. They're good for eachother and Eliot shouldn't be judging.

It's not his place, he'll get over it.

"So, are you saying no Christmas presents at all? Not even something small?" To Parker, 'small' could mean anything form a lollipop to a diamond, and they'd yield the exact same positive response.

"No gifts," Nate stands his ground.

"But… How are we supposed to do Christmas without any presents?" Parker sounds like she'd about to genuinely get upset. Eliot hates the hurt tone in her voice.

He's about to crack and pipe in when Sophie beats him to it, "Let's just put a limit on spending."

Sounds like a reasonable compromise, if they weren't thieves who would just steal it anyway.

"Say $1,000 a…" she'd cut off by Nate pointedly clearing his throat.

"$100 a.." she tries to correct before cut off again.

"50 bucks a person." she rushes before anyone else can but in.

"Fine, whatever. I'm in," the conversation is well and over as Parker finishes up the heist, getting in and out with no trouble at all.

Eliot's just tired.

So he does what he always does when the teams finally safe and on standby until further notice, makes his way to the kitchen and distracts himself with fixing up the disaster that is Hardison's brew-pub menu ideas.

~*~

Yup, the books were rigged; unusable and irrelevant.

Nate cooks up a scheme with a rival toy, "We're gonna steal Christmas."

Parker ignores the Whirlie-Glee-Glee in retaliation but also because it just looks dumb. Even with her admittedly messed up childhood she'd never known a kid to get exited over a frisbee. Boomerang maybe. Eliot taught her how to use one of those when she asked if they'd really started out as weapons. He'd been very patient with her, never using the anger she knows he's struggled with. It was inspiring to finally let go of the anger she grew up with herself.

She finally understood what if felt like to be safe, that no matter how much she pushed those boundaries and anticipated that familiar anger, it never came. Family was never supposed to mean pain. Eliot would never be angry with her, even when she looked back and though he had the right to be. Maybe he'd had just as much trouble identifying and sharing emotions as she had.

She looks to the left of the Wobgly G-Whatever and knows, without a shadow of a doubt in her mind, 'This is it.' She wants 2. One for herself and one for Eliot's Christmas present. She can't cuddle him, since apparently that would be weird, or so she's pieced together from other interactions and similar topics in Hardison's coaching, but she can cuddle Mini-Eliot as much as she likes!

It ends up being the toy they feature in their con but she hopes the sentiment will translate all the same when she gets to present it to him in person.

Hardison thinks it's stupid, so for now she maintains that he's stupid. How dare he doubt her.

"Anything can be sold," Eliot defends her over the com, so she settles down for now. But it still hurts…

No Mini-Eliot cuddles for Hardison! He can cuddle Hardi, Parker 2.0 or whatever, this week.

~*~

"Look, it's happy. It's not so happy, but then it's happy again. It changes moods. It's pretty cool, right?"

Of course Nate would try to get the toy out there with the drug dealer approach. Because why the hell not. It's not like Eliot has been to this Farmer's Market before.

He couldn't look more like a stereotype, handing out free toys to random kids on the corner with his long hair, hoodie and rough appearance. He's generally pretty good with kids but today's just a bad day.

"No? Hey, here, take it. It's free." Any hesitation the girl had quickly evaporates as she takes the doll and excitedly shares with the other kids she sees.

He's cranky; he's uncomfortable. He's out here while the crew is talking as if he's not even there, because he's not.

He's just lonely.

They're already moving on, arranging the next steps in the con, things they don't need him for.

The dolls are all handed out and he's technically 'done' for now.

There's a cute Hawaiian kid working in one of the vendor stalls a little ways down. He'd passed by 4 times already, probably to see if Eliot was going to be a threat to their little market, but seems to have deemed him safe. Even sent a few stray kids his way toward the end there.

He caught Eliot looking his way and smiled shyly when he noticed the empty booth.

'To hell with it,' there's nothing wrong with Eliot taking a moment to his downtime.

He welcomes the distraction.

Making his way over with a suave smile Eliot peruses through what's left of the vegetable selection.

"Hey there," he maintains eye contact as he lightly teases his forefinger down the length of a rather girthy carrot. "What time you gettin off today handsome?"

"You tell me Sir," the young man boldly lets slip before blushing profusely and babbles a bit correcting himself. "I mean, I guess I'm almost done for the day. This is usually when the crowd dies out and there's usually some stuff left over that people didn't want when I pack up. Wh-what did you have in mind?"

"Shame to let it go to waste, I'll take the lot of it," Eliot finds the rambling cute and tries very hard not to let it remind him of another stuttering darker skinned young man. "What say you, wanna help me with my load?"

The double entendre isn't lost on him as Eliot notices pupils widening and plump lips parting with a hitched breath.

"T-totally," his grin widens to take over his whole face and nervously condense everything down in to two crates.

Eliot slides behind the booth and slip the cash into his back pocket, gently palming the soft globe. Before they can get distracted and in trouble for public indecency Eliot swiftly manhandles the larger of the crates, letting his arms flex more noticeably than necessary, leaving the tiny crate for his new friend. Swaying his hips Eliot walks a few feet in the direction of his car and does his best 'come hither' expression. The man nearly trips over himself in his haste to flow, almost forgetting the second crate.

"I'm Alex, by the way. Alex Parker."

'Oh fuck me!' Eliot decidedly Does Not Think About It.

"Carl," Eliot leaves it at that. He tries not to leave anything he can be looked up by but he's pretty sure that's the alias he's been using lately.

~*~

Alec throws himself into his paparazzo persona watching Sophie sneak the demented doll into Sandy Matteo's bag. He does not worry about Eliot's absent commentary. He's fine, the man can take care of himself. Hardison has work to do. He has to focus so that he doesn't miss his opportunity or his shots.

'There. Got em. Done. Time to go.'

He does not check his systems again for signal from Eliot's com. The seven previous checks were for everyone's coms and perfectly rational intervals. The mark's career used to be in weapons.

'Can't be too cautious.'

Eliot's own rule.

So where the hell is he? Surely the dolls had all been handed out by now.

~*~

Eliot's a gentlemen first and foremost. So once the produce is safely in his car he offers to help clean up Alex's booth and they put away all their equipment like the rest of the vendors as the market closes for the day.

Alex seems pleasantly surprised and loosens up a bit, not rushing for anything and enjoying each other's company.

Splitting for a moment in the parking lot, Eliot pulls around and picks Alex up to finally drive back to one of his places. He has four scattered around the city, all staged to appear lived in as he rotates which pantry to keep freshly filled.

He rushes around to the other side after parking to open the door as he had when picking Alex up, receiving a gentle kiss for his efforts. The tension builds as they navigate around the entry way and down the fall., exchanging heated glances and more daring touches.

By the time Eliot's door is closed and locked behind them they're pressed flush against eachother.

He's long since turned off his com but his phone volume is up in case there's an emergency. No one's contacted him yet and he plans to take his time. He might look like a flirt around his team or on a job but it's been months since he's had the pleasure of taking care of someone.

He can't even recall the last time he'd gotten off but it's never really been about that. He's given out so much pain in his life, he can only balance it out by giving pleasure.

It's like an itch.

The one addiction he can't seem to curb.

Doesn't really want to.

Doesn't want to think either, so he doesn't.

He turns 'Eliot Brain' off and 'Carl' sinks to his knees, as easily as breathing. Breathing in the musk of the arousal he's caused. The pleasure he eager to give.

~*~

They're all back in the office after another day of grinding their gears. Plotting and conning and all the meticulous prep work Alec prides himself in providing for his family.

Their numbers still aren't high enough.

"Santa's little helper here is right. The doll's a bust," Eliot still sounds a little stand-off-ish but not nearly as bad as he had before the Farmer's Market so at least there's that.

Alec refuses to ask where he went afterwards and no clues have presented themselves.

"Whirlie stupid thing would have done worse," Parker on the other hand is sounding more irritated but the minute. She's stood unusually strongly about her doll.

He get's it that she's got some trauma and stuff going on upstairs but he can't get the memory of the fallen look off her face when she tried to present a second doll to Eliot in person but he'd already headed out for the night. Usually they finished off long nights with him cooking for them and escorting them to either Parker's warehouse or Hardison's penthouse suite; but that night they'd been left to fend for themselves.

"And you're an expert on this because?"

"GUYS!" Even distracted with the con Nate tried to cut the atmosphere.

"Because I was there. It spoke to me!"

"It spoke to you?"

"It reminded me of a toy my social worker used to make me do exercises with."

"You kidding me with that?"

"Oh, like you always do what you're supposed to?" Sophie didn't like the new tension either.

"E-exercises... What kind of exercises?" Nate redirects.

"Identifying emotions or something like that."

Well now Alec felt like shit. It made so much sense now. He could see the lightbulb go off in Eliot's head and winced in sympathy.

There's no way his self-sabotaging ass isn't going to add this to whatever redemption list he's compiled.

Alec won't even be mad when his anticipated steak dinner get's replaced with Parker's favorite Eggplant Lasagna tonight. Maybe they can put on one of her Christmas movies and crash on his couch, reconnect and make it up to her. Lord knows those two need all the anger-healing bonding opportunities they can get.

It's a different lightbulb that goes off in Nate's head. "That’s it. That's it. It's obvious. We can't con a 6-year-old. You know who we can con? Their parents. Okay, so, Hardison you get on that lecture thing, Eliot you get on the mommies," and the con evolves.

"And he doesn't mean that literally," Hardison can't help himself, trying not to sound bitter.

"That joke is never funny," Eliot sounds angry again as he gets up to storm out. There's something in his tone but Hardison can't place it.

"It's always funny."

"No, it's not. Comedy's about timing, and you don't have it!"

Good thing Hardison's studied early childhood development in the past, he's about to need it.

~*~

Right. Cause that's apparently who he is in the others' eyes.

Just a horndog. No self control. Not able to understand the directions Nate gives him.

It was One stinking time!

'Take them out Eliot.'

'Like, on a date or …?'

Eliot storms down to the kitchen on autopilot.

Basil. Ricotta. Tomatoes. Eggplant.

His consciousness resurfaces to the setting of a timer and dish safely in the oven.

Hands absent of further distraction.

Picking up a knife Eliot goes through the motions of a meditative exercise. He keeps his movements fluid and practices techniques to pass the time while his mind is already planning arrangements to make it up to Parker. He didn't stick around to walk them home after the long night stealing the toy and he regrets that now. He just needed the night alone. He was torn, defend her interest and initiative was basically rewarding disobedient behavior when his training demanded she stick to the plan.

Divergence was messy and risky.

He'd had the urge to spread her across his lap for a spanking.

There was no way he'd let himself carry out that thought, so he nipped the impulse in the bud and left.

Looking back he wouldn't be surprised if his counselors had tried to use something similar with him. Then again he got enough shit for his 'feminine interests' like cooking, tailoring and medicine. Relevant skills he'd defended himself but he'd still been forced into sports, history and mechanics. He didn't mind them and they'd all proved useful; he still wishes he'd at least had a say in it.

By the time the young couple made it to his kitchen he'd just finished setting the table.

It was a rather quiet affair with everyone deep in thought.

Parker's mood seemed to lift somewhat with her favorite dish.

Hardison didn't make a peep about the routine dinner selection's change, probably anticipated it long before Eliot even decided. Smartass.

When they'd finished Hardison quickly took over cleanup without any prompting, pointedly declining offers to help.

Eliot took the opportunity to pull Parker in for a hug, physical comfort being something new they had both been slowly warming up to.

"Wanna talk about it?" he gently asked into her temple.

Shaking her head slightly she gave him a small smile. "I think you get it," she whispered back.

He spotted Hardison observing from the doorway, kitchen and table clean, lights ready to be turned off for the night. Waited for the moment to end he prompted, "Movie night? My vote's on Elf."

Parker's eyes lit up further as she dragged Eliot with her through the door. With each of the boy's hands in one of hers, no one let go the whole way there.

With credits rolling and twin snores coming from his chest-turned-pillow Eliot let himself relax.

It wasn't a good position for either to stay in long but he could wait and carry them each to bed after his 90 minutes of shut-eye.

'It's so right. It' not enough. It's too much.'

He'll take what he can get.

If he happened to stay knocked out for roughly 150 minutes, well that's no one's business but his own.

~*~

Hardison wakes up slowly and groggily. Parker curled up on his left with the demented baby-doll sandwiched between them.

His heart stops momentarily in fear that the doll has eaten and replaced Eliot between them before his brain catches up with his nose. Coffee and turkey bacon.

He and Parker's stomachs let out simultaneous loud gurgles that wake the blonde up.

"Morning," she whispers into his lips before her head swivels around in search of something. Not finding whatever it is in his room she drops a quick kiss to the dolls cheek and darts off the bathroom to start her morning routine.

He doesn't know why he's still laying there, basically cuddling the doll but he is.

Waking himself up further he makes the bed, tucking the thing in since he thinks it'll make Parker happy, he then makes his way down to the kitchen in nothing but his sweats.

He doesn't remember changing but it's not the first time Eliot's taken some liberties after they've fallen asleep on him. He originally thought the line about only sleeping 90 minutes a day was bullshit but turns out the guy was rounding up for their sake. It was more like 40 any time Hardison caught him and accidently woke him up breathing too loud from another room altogether.

Speaking of liberties, looks like the laundry has been done, plants watered, den put back together and local news playing lowly from one of the speakers.

Megabyte walked, fed and sleeping soundly by the door to his room. The dog somehow has already learned that he won't be getting table scraps and instead guards over him while Eliot and Parker are preoccupied.

Alec really wishes he could get them to move in already.

He gets that they need their own safehouses for peace of mind and all that but he never feels this settled and complete when he wakes up alone or to his admittedly horrible housekeeping habits.

He's gotten a set of drawers and closet space set aside for things Parker's left over and Eliot has 2 emergency bags, one in the closet one in the back of the secluded garage unit. There's a drawer dedicated to nothing but new, unopened, toothbrushes in the bathroom since both of them are weird about letting 'theirs' out of their 'sights'. The kitchen is pretty much off limits to the couple in fear they'd burn down all the hard work stealthily customized for the brute. The ventilation shafts were one of the first things he'd looked into before signing.

He may or may not have put the lease in the names of each of their three aliases, it's not like they pay that close attention to his paperwork anyway. He'd be insulted if the blind faith didn't do funny things to his chest.

He doesn't even care how long the day is about to get, the morning was perfect enough to carry his good mood through.

Or… so he thought.

~*~

"All right, cut," Eliot turns off the camera after Hardison's educational bit. "Dude, how do you come up with this crap?" He'd be impressed if he wasn't avoiding the 'Hardison will make a good dad - wait that means Parker would be a mom - who would I be to them' train(wreck) of thought.

"I studied early-childhood development. Look, man. Video's done. I make it seem like I'm talking to hundreds, upload it to the blogger mom sites, we're good to go."

"Dude, the blogger moms?" He knew it was gonna come up, Nate told them the plan last night. It was going to continue being a thing, doesn't mean he's looking forward to it.

"Yes, blogger moms. They talk about parenthood, schools, life at home. You get one of these sites to endorse you, your toy's gonna go viral. Trust me."

So not helping avoiding the 'Hardison's gonna be a good parent' topic.

An example of said blog is brought up with an attractive enough woman in the profile.

"That's a blogger mom?" he can't help but ask, not because she'd pretty, even though she is, but because of her eyes. She doesn't look tired, or proud; just like she knows she'd pretty and that's enough to give her a platform. The cheerleading job was enough to remind him that that's all that people really need, unfortunately, but with what he's seen his life he wouldn't give her the time of day for any level of credibility. Maybe not even an avocado toast recipe.

"Ah, Chardonnay Mom? Yeah, that's Allie Stanbrook. She runs one of the top blogger sites in the nation. She's local, too. PDX, baby," there's something in Hardison's tone that suggests he's on the same page as Eliot about her but when he looks over it's obviously not that.

Chardonnay Mom? Yeah, he can see her towing the line between believable caretaker and wine-snob.

Here we go, not like he has many choices here.

"All right, look, listen to me, if I'm gonna do this, all right, I want to be tough dad. You know what I mean? Cool dad. Just enough to turn her head. Don't go overboard on this. Keep it simple. You know, someone who's not afraid to make a PB&J, but still wants to go out in the yard, get dirty, kick the soccer ball around. Strict... but fair."

He's projecting, he knows it.

But my god he can't avoid the downward spiral of his thoughts.

If Hardison and Parker ever do want kids, that's the kind of uncle he want to be.

~*~

"After my wife passed, it was, um, it was very tough for me and my son, Dashiel, to communicate."

Well, it's been hard for him to communicate. Period. Let alone with the two adults he's unceremoniously adopted, but the best lies lie closest to the truth. Even if the imaginary kid's name is a nightmare in and of itself.

"But, that's when Baby Feels-A-Lot came into our lives. And, yeah, listen, don't get me wrong. I’m-I'm one of those dads, I had a problem with my son playing with a doll. But… I'll tell you something. It worked. We were talking again. You know, we were father and son. And I felt the duty. I had to get this out there. I had to let the other dads know what this product did for us. So, I started a blog."

Well, Hardison started a blog, and put his face on it.

Eliot feels creepy talking to these women. They all have kids, those kids have fathers, and they're looking at him like they want more. They think that he'll be for their kids what he appears to be for his own. And the widower persona hits a little too close to home remembering his own dad.

There's no way he'd have lived in an area like this growing up. He doesn't think he'd want to. One of their kids is probably name Skyler or Fennel or some crap. Sam. Sam was a good name for Nate to choose.

They still don't know what Parker's birth name is, and that's fine with him. He doesn't know if Alec is short for anything either. It's kind of Sophie's thing that Nate doesn't know her name, or pretends not to?

He's never thought one way or the other on his own. He tried to go by Spencer for a bit but felt to militaria.

Eliot doesn't even know why he's thinking about it.

It's never been a problem before, not since high school.

Since Aimee…

'Time to go.'

~*~

Alec can't believe this is his life right now. Sending Eliot off to mingle, and probably hook up flirt with the Desperate Housewives of Portland while he stews at his computer over what kind of parent Eliot would make.

Not just think about it, write it.

He listened to the few directions Eliot gave him, he swears he did. It was said with such conviction, like he'd been thinking about it. Like he wanted it.

Alec wanted it for him too one day, he does.

But selfishly he doesn't.

That would mean letting him leave.

Be something else for someone else.

Would he still protect and coddle he and Parker?

He knows they'd stay in touch, that they're stuck with eachother. He already had the schematics set aside and started for their next lives together as robots. Even though Eliot said he didn't want it, he's getting it.

Alec always knew he'd have kids one day.

Multiple, whether they were little carbon copies of himself or adopted like he was.

But now he has Parker, and they actually have to talk about those kinds of things.

'Fuck. Does Parker even want kids one day? It's a big enough deal she sees them as family now. Focus! Stew later, blog now.'

So he starts to reminisce about the father he wanted. The man missing from his life until Nate and Eliot came along.

He thinks about the adventures they've already been on, like finally trying the sandwich named after the guy after his evolution into loving baseball. It was almost as good as the sandwich he stole out the fridge so long ago. The one he thought was made for him after realizing how close attention Eliot paid to each of their preferences.

Firmly pushing any identity confusion into the 'never to be touched' folder of his mega-brain, Hardison let's the words flow freely.

It's an emotional roller-coaster, knowing that the team will be reading this, but it's also freeing. An outlet he didn't realize he needed right now. There are several entries he locks away not to ever be shared but he eventually edits it down into creative entries that highlight Eliot as he would be.

In another life. One untainted by the violence of his past.

'If only they'd met far sooner.'

Indulging himself with gummy frogs and orange soda Eliot's voice echoes in his head.

That they're not food.

That food is life and he needs to care more about what he's doing to his body.

He doesn't notice he can't finish the bag, replacing the urge for more by sucking on his thumb in between typing sessions.

He's barefoot, last year's Christmas present wrapped securely around his shoulders. A black and blue blanket Eliot had obviously crocheted himself, even if he hadn't verified the fact. Megabyte curled up on his right and Baby-Feels-A-Lot in his lap.

It's growing on him, sue him.

Parker pointed out how similar his scowl was to Eliot after he caught her calling it Mini-Eliot and now he can't un-see it.

Blogs posted and queued up Alec remains in his little bubble for a while, enjoying the floaty headspace he's slipped into while it lasts. Soon they'll be back on the grind and this will all have been just another project for the job. They'll move on and forget he'd blended up his projection of 'Future Parent Eliot' with 'Father He Never Got to Have' all balanced and stuck to stern but protective 'Daddy Eliot' caricature.

Trying not to startle himself into being big enough to analyze any of that Alec cuddles his doggy and his girlfriend's dolly and falls into an uneasy sleep.

~*~

"Okay, I've written 3 months' worth of blogs for our sensitive dad over here. I got prices for the braces, Dashiel's chess club…" Alec still feels a little out of it after his impromptu nap earlier but the change of scenery into the office and Nate's intense presence help pull him back.

"You put in there we went to the Super Bowl?" Eliot sounds incredulous. Why? They were supposed to go together before job got in the way. Alec suspects he wasn't supposed to know Eliot had gotten them tickets but what did he expect when Alec was the wizard behind their identities and finances. It even helped him build a few files on Eliot's mysterious 'buddies.'

"Oh, yeah, man, yeah. You even met some of the players. Now, what I was thinking... Tell me what you feel. Ah, you guys go on like a-a road trip cross-country, you do a tour, something like that." Parker will still want to jump off of stuff but Eliot's been trying to get him to go camping. This is kind of his way of breaking down and agreeing to go, without the humiliation of actually having to say it.

"Yeah, I like that. I like that. Or... And I'm just gonna put this out there... What if I took him on a tour of all the ball parks in America? Hardison, huh? Or maybe took him to the opera or the moon, huh? Believable father-and-son stuff!"

"A little focus," Nate tries to intervene.

"Look at the picture he used, man!"

'What's wrong with the picture?!' It's one of Alec's favorites. He barely has any pictures of Eliot's truly infectious smile. He feels himself bristle and get defensive. He's not in the place he needs to be to have this conversation. It's like dry ice being pursed down the back of his shirt in less than 3 seconds flat.

"Hey, hey. Excuse me, man. I'm sorry if this kind of writing opens me up creatively. I'm stuck looking at codes all day. Maybe I was writing the father that I wanted one day," woops. He stutters to carry on, "What's the problem with getting emotionally butt naked?" Please shut him up!

"Oh, please, don't. Please, we-we don't want to see that," Nate's presence is both a blessing and a curse.

"I'm trying to share my feelings on paper," Hardison lets that be his final piece.

"Please, please don't. Now listen, Hardison, I'm very happy with your creativity and everything, but what I want to know is, what do you have on the blogger moms about Eliot?"

'Whoop-da-dee-fucking-doo…'

"Oh, what did the mamas say? Oh, what are they saying about the sensitive dad? I got something for you. I got something for your ass," he pulls up the tabs he couldn't bring himself to close after reading. "Boom. Chardonnay Mama. She cute, though, ain't she fine? Look what she says. 'Oh, this week, I was introduced to an amazing new toy called Baby Feels-A-Lot, thanks to a gentleman who couldn't be more kind, more handsome, or more sensitive single dad.' You don't deserve none of that!" Hardison pointedly ignores Eliot preening. It's usually kind of cute but today it just sucks.

"Now how are we doing with the toy's popularity?" Nate moves the conversation along.

"Saturation indexes are ticking up 'cause I did my job."

And just like that they're moving on to Sophie's update.

~*~

The job wrapped up rather nicely. Hazlit publicly humiliated, dangerous toy not going to market, Eldon getting his dream job. Eliot even got to avoid the blogger moms, only reaching out for the safety study and basically labeling himself celibate when their interest pressed past his boundaries.

Eliot watched Parker play with another of the same doll. He and Hardison had been given their own for Christmas, "Promise me those things will never hit store shelves."

"Ah, I'm keeping them all to myself. I've got them lined up in my warehouse like an army of joy and rage."

"You don't ever want to be in that warehouse alone. Ever," Eliot doesn't doubt that for a second, thinking back to wonder when Hardison might have been. Parker's still very peculiar about the privacy of her things.

"I think it's really sad that we're so cynical about gifts. I used to, ah, I loved Christmas as a child," a nostalgic warmth spreads across Sophie's face.

"Yeah, well, nothing's genuine anymore," Eliot can't help himself from pointing out.... rather hypocritically.

"That's not true, no. I've been thinking about this, and yo-you know what is genuine? Trust."

"Trust?" Parker sounds so confused. Poor thing's struggled with trust is no secret to the room.

"Yes, trust. I think, no, seriously. I think we should give each other some trust for Christmas."

"What, like that exercise where you fall back and someone catches you?"

"No, not like that."

"Good, because I did that once, and I dropped the person, and they had to get stitches."

"Still hurts."

"I know."

Eliot winces in sympathy, he'd been the one to administer the stitches.

It wasn't a few, over a small area. It was 11 down the back of his shoulder, 3 blending in with his eyebrow and 5 in the left V of his hip. They still wont tell him 'where' they'd tried it.

"I just think that, well, we've been through so much together, all of us, and we should give each other something personal this year, like, um, I don't know, a story or a secret."

Does he really need to be here for this? Eliot looks at his empty wrist pretending to check the time. Like he's got anywhere to be after this besides another movie night at Hardison's.

Thing is, he still got them presents.

Not everybody, but he saw them displayed in the window while they'd been out and couldn't help himself. He knows they'd been bummed and stressing over the 'Stealing Christmas' mess. What was he supposed to do? Continue watching the frown? He'd rather chop off hit foot with a spoon. But that's for later.

"No, come on. Bear with me, please. Please. Who's gonna go first?"

"Eliot."

'Really Parker?' Eliot can't help puffing out his chest a little bit, of course she saw the opportunity and snatched it.

Nate takes the 'head of the table' role upon himself to go first. Eliot doesn't let it bother him since he is kind of like a surrogate parent to the couple with Sophie having made the suggestion.

"All right. When I was a kid, I wanted a trumpet one Christmas. My father played Sinatra all the time, and, ah, Sinatra had this trumpet player named 'Sweets' Edison, Harry 'Sweets' Edison. Great sound, amazing. I wanted to sound just like him, you know? Christmas rolled around, and, ah, there was no trumpet, just a pack of baseball cards. My father said that Santa must have had a-a rough year at the track. So, there's... Anyway, a couple of days later, I wake up in my bed, and at the foot of the bed is, ah, is a trumpet. It's all tarnished and dinged up, my dad probably rolled somebody for it, but-but there it is. And I, ah, I played that trumpet every day for 10 years. You know, I never, I never ah, ended up sounding like ah, 'Sweets' Edison, but…"

Hardison looks down and Eliot want Nate to finish up so they can move on.

"So, I gave it to, um, I gave it to Sam on his 8th birthday."

Now Parker's looking down. Does he not see what reminding them of the child he's pretending to replace with them does? How fucked up it is? They probably don't even realize they're trying to live up to the ghostly parody of a dead 8 year old.

"And that was, um, his, um, first trumpet lesson was scheduled for the day, as it turns out, that he went into the hospital. And I, so, he… I don't have anything left from my childhood, but I did keep the trumpet. I keep it on the boat."

Sophie looks sad but Eliot can't tell if it's the atmosphere that's been created or sympathy for the man she loves. Maybe both. He get's it, kinda, but the guy could at least acknowledge that they don't have to be his replacement. That he's still proud of them as they are.

"Okay, who's next?" Eliot hold his tongue and instead settles on a story that'll bring the mood back, lest Sophie start waxing poetic about Fort Devereaux or some shit.

"I've got a nephew," Eliot bites the bullet before he can chicken out.

All eyes around the table snap to him and jaws hit the floor.

"Sorta," Eliot closes his eyes and leans back as if to look through the ceiling. "J named me their son's godfather just a few months before that first job. It's why I'd tried to retire before Dubenich sent me that offer. One last score before goin straight, or as close to it as I would have let myself get. Set up a nice college fund. I still touch base maybe once a year. Never on a holiday and never on a birthday. But if anything happens to me, I trust him with you." He makes sure to look both Hardison and Parker dead in the eyes with his final statement. Leave himself open, just for a moment, to let the sincerity and desperation shine through. Prove to them that they're enough, that they're perfect the way they are.

They may live in the shadows as thieves but he won't let them live in the shadows of the dead.

They're the light he'd once lost.

And one of these day, he will die to protect them.

~*~

Parker's too choked up to share much, not even sure she's doing this trust thing right.

"I blew up my house once to get back my bunny. They said to either be a better kid, or a better thief. It's obvious which one I chose." She's quiet and a little scared, but Eliot reaches below the table to squeeze her hand and she thinks she sees pride in his eyes. "He… He's snuggled up in the middle of my money, in one of my vaults."

She did it.

She said it.

And she'd not going to lose them over it.

The same feeling she has when she's jumping blooms in her chest.

She's freefalling and knows she's safe.

She… She thinks it's safe to retrieve bunny, and let him snuggle between Mini Eliot and Hardi.

~*~

Hardison feels emotionally wrung out. First the blogging, and the accidental little-space and now this. He knows little-space is what happened the other day, it'd happened before but not that deep in a long long time. It's almost what he shares, he's dying to freely be as little as Parker sometimes lets off. But not here, Not 'yet'.

Instead, "Hell… I've been arrested in drag."

Sophie sprays Nate in the face with the water she'd been sipping.

He chuckles a bit and reminisces, "It was actually the highlight of my night. I'd gone out to this nightclub but had already been banned for 'stealing peoples cards' even though it's not my fault the bartenders couldn't remember who was who and each one thought I was a different person. I hope they got to keep the generous tips! Anyway, I liked the place and wanted to go back, decided to experiment. Turns out I was pretty convincing until I opened my damn mouth. Not too tolerant for what later turned into a gay bar. The cop that came on shift later that night was cute and asked me to teach him how I did my eyeliner. They'd accidently mixed me in with the girls cell and we had a good ol time. I think one of em left their abusive ex and settled down with eyeliner cop's partner."

He'd avoided eye contact through the whole reveal but looking around now, he couldn't suppress his grin at the variety of responses.

Parker seemed cool with it, as if it were no different than saying 'I didn't wear green on St. Patty's, what A rebel.'

Nate looked similar to when he'd tried the first beer he'd tried to brew but wasn't disgusted. More like he was going down memory lane looking for clues he'd obviously missed. A blow to his mastermind ego but not uncomfortable.

Sophies face was brighter than the Christmas tree Parker put up in his den, and the building's electricity bill had effectively doubled that day.

'Oh god! I've just doubled the opportunity of characters for her to write! I should have gone with the little-space reveal, or that he's got a new foster sister that's trying to rival him on the web, or lie about a tattoo…'

He looks to Eliot for help and…. He thinks he broke Eliot.

~*~

Sophie better pipe the fuck up before Eliot does something very inappropriate!

His lips are dry and his vision has zeroed in on Hardison's features, imagination spinning. He sees mascara and blush and lip gloss and long legs propped up and crossed as a dress skirt teasingly falls up to reveal shaven thighs. Heels. Hardison is already taller than him, everybody is, but in heels he'd tower over him. And fearless Parker would climb that like the Empire State Building. Freefalling for him to catch and sandwich between them….

'SOPHIE?!'

His soul sister finally comes to his rescue, "Tara and I first met pretending to be lovers. My cover had gotten really rocky and in walks this confident hot blonde, just my mark's type. So I rushed over and kissed her, praying she'd play along. She did, far more effectively than I was ready for, and without any prior coordination we'd convinced everyone we would have been married by then had the laws been different. Our backstories were a little rocky at first but was easily covered up with the 'having a story for the closet' excuse. We immediately got competitive once we figured out eachother were grifters, but it took a few weeks to 'come out' as it were."

That actually makes way more sense than he wants it to. No wonder Tara was so particular when judging Nate.

Eliot finds his footing again and beams around the table. This was actually a pretty good idea.

And Nate's face was PRICELESS!

"Merry Christmas you guys."

~*~

Parker and Hardison wait (im)patiently on the couch. No sooner had they made it through the front door had Eliot pointed to the couch and told them to sit and wait a moment before disappearing into the attached garage unit. Tonight feels like a fever dream, like any moment now they'll wake up in the middle of March to go after a new mark, business as usual.

They don't want to wake up.

Before their nerves become too much, out walks Eliot, in the Santa suit!

Hardison is so glad he put security cameras in the den. He WILL have pictures, videos, of this!

Parker wiggles excitedly by his side.

Rolling his eyes and opening the Santa Sack he passes them each a perfectly wrapped box. His is blue with a black ribbon and Parker's is green with a red ribbon.

They each scoot to a side and pull the man down between them, waiting patiently for the go ahead.

Hardison's already given them their upgraded phones and personalized art pieces. After all the forgeries he's done they encouraged him they'd cherish his original work as well should he chose to pursue it. He doesn't really remember what he gave Eliot last year but he hopes he'd like it.

Parker gave them each a sketch she's made from memory how the three of them looked when they first met. He plans to mount it either over the fireplace or in the master bedroom.

Reclining back with his legs splaying out and arms resting behind them across the couch cushions, the hitter waves his hand in a smug 'what are you waiting for' gesture.

It's a race to open theirs first but happy tears spring to their eyes as they look inside.

Wood carvings stare back at them.

Beautiful mahogany whittled and grooved and polished to display a small wolf pack.

Three wolves encompass the majority of the center, two playfully teasing the third while he stands vigilant, tails wagging. What are presumably the alpha pair in the background watching fondly and a variety of animals mixed in with the surrounding foliage. The forest community if-you-will.

The pair look to eachother in wonder, turning to the man between them and reaffirm then and there:

They're never letting him go.

They don't think he'd mind.

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faithinlouisfuture · 2 years

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Look at this cutie 🤍

#omg look my first official gif #he looked so edible I had to #ltwt22: behind the scenes #IGTV #I made this #mindofwalls #louisprojectstracks #louisupdates #lfltracks #dailytomlinson #as the frisbee obsession continues #my ltwt22 content #louis tomlinson #louis tomlinson gifs

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frenchfrywrites · 2 years

Note

Ok so I was thinking of what they would do if they were to be ghosts and they find themselves having a crush on the new owner of the place they inhabit--

I think Levi would be a very shy ghost, who was so glad that the previous owners left so he had the entire house for himself. Now he can do anything he wants and be alone and not have to interact with others!! Yay!! Except there's a new owner. I think he would be shyly spying on you, trying to figure out who this new person is and what their intentions are and accidentally dropping stuff as he passes through the house. (He drops a glass on the floor. You scream. He screams. None of you expected it.)

I also think he's so used to grabbing things and misplacing them he wouldn't even realize he is lowkey freaking you out.

He would be so perverted too, if you thought Luci watching you shower was bad wait until you hear about Levi, he's a whole ass freak. He watches you piss 😭😭. He's like "Woah!! That's so cool, I wonder if it's warm! *tries to touch the stream and ends up smearing it all over you/the wall*"

MC: 😑

Okay but when you bring the ouija and try to ask him if he is going to hurt you (you have a feeling he won't but you might as well ask), he's so self conscious!! He's also super ashamed of his freakiness. You ask him if he was who dropped the shampoo. He starts "S-O-R-R-Y. I-M. S-O. G-R-O-S-S-H-J-K-L-U-P-YES-NO-A-B-A-S-K-D-K-L-J..." and next thing you know the ouija is flying outside the window like a goddamn Frisbee. Ghost equivalent of a keysmash.

OMG AND WHAT IF HE DIED IN AN ARCADE. First of all: OOF. Second of all, that would be so funny though. You work the night guard shift an arcade, and you think it's a normal job until every friday at 12 am one of the games starts playing itself. (what is this? FNAF? i know.)

It's the oldest game of the arcade and the one almost nobody plays and it's playing itself almost perfectly, so you think the game is just not functioning anymore. Until you see the game ??? lose ??? on itself ??? and then something is thrown on the floor and you get shivers down your spine, someone screams "FUCK THIS SHIT!". And, oh god, is the game possessed?!

No. Leviathan just ragequits after losing.

Eventually after meeting him he asks you to play the game for him because his fingers are too ghost-like to properly press the buttons!! You make one (1!!) mistake and he's mad at you and you're just like. Bro I just work here😑.

ANYWAY anyway here is page 1/190 of my thoughts.

- ♟💙

ohhh my god if you chose to give me more, I cannot wait for your continued thoughts, because already I'm obsessed.

Levi would be such a shy ghost!!

Every thing he does is a complete accident and he freaks out as much as you do. Like every scare has been wildly unintentional. I'm sure the first few weeks are hard for both of you, as he'll forget you've moved in and just behave as usual. But once he does fully register your presence you're all he thinks about.

Definitely watches you all the time, gets off on stuff that you do, then cries because he's so self deprecating around his perversions. You'd piss and then 5 minutes later there's moaning, and a little later a sobbing sound is coming from one of your empty rooms.. safe to say you're terrified lmao. He'd also try to touch you, but since he's shy and scared his hands feel very soft and light causing you to question if there really were arms wrapping around you or are you going insane.

OBSESSED with Levi keysmashing the Ouija board. It takes forever to get a solid response out of him. He'd be swinging the planchette around wildly and throwing it around the room accidently when he gets too nervous. It'd be far better to have him possess your laptop and talk to him through a google doc or something.

I also love the idea of Levi haunting an arcade. I'm sure he's played every game in there, making the owners go crazy because they think their games are breaking constantly. I think your first experience watching him rage quit would be pretty frightening so imagine you find safety in the bathroom or something, from there you hear things get quiet (when he realizes he's upset you), and eventually you come out of your little safe haven and there's a bunch of stuffed animals from the claw machine where you normally sit as a little apology from Levi 😭💖

#ahh again im so sorry it took me so long to reply #french fry replies #p/iss #spice #ghosting #♟💙 anon

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st4rlabsforever · 3 years

Text

post-episode 3 fix-it

words: 2.9k

notes: i started a long fic based on this post after watching ep 3. i cannibalized some snippets from another fic i wrote last week so if you see similar scenes, that’s why. i think this will end up being 12-15k words endgame sambucky by the end, but i refuse to post on ao3 until it’s complete. this is the first 3 scenes. feel free to comment and message me your thoughts since i’m still very much in the writing phase :)

summary: “It’s the kind of statement that should be screamed into Bucky’s face, but he’s learning that when Sam’s angry – when he’s truly angry – he’s just as soft-spoken as he is when he’s in one of his pensive moods. And he lets his anger build and build and build until it bursts in spectacular fashion.”

“I didn’t back Steve on the Sokovia Accords,” Sam says unprompted one day. They’re so close to apprehending the Flagsmashers and wrapping up this ridiculous saga.

“I don’t follow,” Bucky says.

“I was the one who refused to sign it first. Not Steve.”

Sam says it so softly that Bucky has to strain to hear him. Sam is loud and chatty and half the time he keeps up a constant stream of chatter just to get on Bucky’s nerves, but Bucky’s coming to realize that when he really wants to make himself heard, he’s soft spoken and mild. Bucky doesn’t entirely follow his train of thought, though.

The thing is, Sam is unreadable when it really matters. He offers words of comfort where needed – in Germany, after seeing Walker with the shield that wasn’t his, knowing that it had affected Bucky just as much as himself; in Madripoor, Bucky’s hand on the throat of some henchman or other, Sam’s hand on his when the Soldier’s memories threatened to overtake him; even in Riga, when Bucky’s guilt over releasing T’Chaka’s killer bubbled to the surface and Sam had checked in with him even though he couldn’t have possibly known about Bucky’s meeting with Ayo. Sam speaks with his eyes, always a searching look that leaves Bucky raw and feeling like he’s been x-rayed. I see you, is what those eyes say.

In contrast, Bucky’s words of comfort feel hollow. He knows that Isaiah is still a live wire for Sam, checks in with him after Madripoor when he can tell the conversation with Nagel weighs heavy on his mind. But he doesn’t see the way Sam does. He knows he’d missed something important because that conversation had ended in an argument and a threat from Sam to destroy the shield.

He never gets a chance to ask Sam what he’s getting at, because Torres signals to them that they’re at the drop point before all hell breaks loose.

***

In the end, after Karli and the Power Broker and whoever else decides to show their head from the emporium of supervillains are dealt with and they finally have a moment of peace, Bucky says, “The shield looks good on you.”

Sam freezes a few paces ahead of Bucky, the shield strapped loosely to his wrist.

“We make a good team,” Bucky says softly.

What he doesn’t expect is for Sam to whirl around suddenly. The look of barely restrained fury is enough to nearly knock Bucky off he’s feet. They fight without ever really fighting all the time, squabbles over who went left and who went right and who was supposed to lead and who was supposed to follow, but never has he seen Sam look like this before. The fury verges on hurt and it’s so fucking visceral that Bucky can barely breathe.

“You don’t get to say that,” Sam says quietly. His voice shakes and he closes his eyes like he’s steadying himself.

“I said I’d squash it until the mission was over, and I did. But you know what? I’m not doing this anymore.”

“Sam–”

“You don’t get to tell me what a good team is. Not after all the shit we just went through. You invited yourself to Munich, and I thought, ‘Fine. I could use the extra set of hands.’ We went through it together against Thanos and I respected that.”

Sam shakes his head. “But then you went off on some lone wolf woe-is-me bullshit, and look at where it got us. You broke Zemo out without even asking if I was down with that. You knew I wasn’t and you forced my hand. Now I’m an accomplice.”

“He was our only lead–”

“Bullshit. That field trip to Madripoor led us right back to Karli. Torres ended up tracking them to Riga anyway.”

“But the Power Broker–”

“–showed his ugly face in the end. All we got out of Madripoor was you digging up your trauma and us getting our faces plastered all over the internet. I promised Sharon one goddamn thing and I can’t even deliver on that now.”

“But I went along with it, fine,” Sam continues. “I knew it couldn’t have been easy reaching back into that headspace, doing what you did to Selby’s men.” The memory blindsides Bucky. “So I tabled it.” Sam taps out a tally with his fingers.

“And back in Baltimore, you’d been too keyed up about Steve being wrong about you to even listen to what I had to say. Again, I tabled it.” Another tally.

“I’ve been meeting you halfway this entire time, man, and I’ve gotten near nothing in return. You kept Isaiah a secret from me, and at first I thought you were just clueless about how damn significant it would’ve been for me to know about him.” Sam shakes his head.

“But then we met him. You saw what they did to him. The one Black supersoldier – a fucking hero – and look what they did to him. You saw it with your own eyes and you still sat there and lectured me about what you thought I should’ve done with that goddamn shield.”

“There’s precedent for it, you know,” Sam says. It takes Bucky a moment to realize Sam is expecting an answer.

Bucky doesn’t know, is the thing. He feels like he’s all of five years old again, put on the spot. He’s reminded of when Zemo just had to let him know about the African American experience; he’d felt chastised and embarrassed enough to pretend like he’d had any clue what themes lurked in Marvin Gaye’s work. Sam just searches him with those eyes, searches Bucky for something yet unfathomable and decides he hasn’t found it. That hurts more than anything else; Bucky wishes he could sink into the ground, make himself as small as possible. Sam doesn’t notice, or else doesn’t care, and just plows on with a scoff.

“You don’t even know the true history of the country you’re living in. Figures.” He shakes his head. “You’re not ever going to be able to separate the shield from the history Black folks have endured at the hands of this country. Not now, not ever.”

Sam doesn’t even look angry anymore. Angry, Bucky can deal with. It would be a relief, even.

Instead, Sam looks at him with a disappointment that somehow surpasses what Steve could have ever accomplished.

“Whatever. I tabled that, too,” Sam says. “And then after Madripoor, after we heard that doctor go on and on about Isaiah’s blood like he wasn’t even a real human-being? I said my piece and all you did was throw that shield bullshit back in my face.”

“Sam–” Bucky tries again. He’s mortified to hear the crack in his own voice.

“It’s honestly breathtaking,” Sam says with something that might be akin to genuine wonder, or maybe even morbid curiosity in his voice. “We saw the same things in Baltimore and Madripoor, but your head was so far up your own ass that you never once stopped to think all of it was just proof to me. That the shield in the hands of a Black man wouldn’t make any damn sense.”

It’s the kind of statement that should be screamed into Bucky’s face, but he’s learning that when Sam’s angry – when he’s truly angry – he’s just as soft-spoken as he is when he’s in one of his pensive moods. And he lets his anger build and build and build until it bursts in spectacular fashion.

Sam’s not even done yet. “And that’s another thing. Stealing the shield from Walker…” Sam rolls his eyes at the memory. “You want to run around with that giant frisbee, fine. That’s your business. But then you forced it on me–”

“That’s not fair,” Bucky says immediately. Desperately. “You didn’t have to accept it.”

“The whole damn country was watching,” Sam says hotly. “It was either accept it, or shit all over Steve fucking Rogers’s legacy and make myself into the villain half the country was already hoping I’d turn out to be.”

“You were dead wrong for that,” Sam says. “I stuck around until we took down Karli because it was the right thing to do. After Munich, though, this little adventure was all you. Zemo, Madripoor, the shield.”

Sam shoves the shield into Bucky’s arms, the impact so sudden that it forces him back a step.

“Since you’re so obsessed with this thing, it’s yours. Congrats,” Sam says sarcastically. “I’m sure you’ll do it proud.”

Bucky lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

“For what it’s worth,” Sam says, “Steve might not have understood everything about me. But in Vienna, when it came time to sign the accords? He was considering it. I put my foot down first and he listened.”

Sam shrugs. “Whatever you thought we were, it's not a team.”

Bucky knows where to drive the knife in to kill a man in as few twists of the wrist as possible – a brutal economy of movement and technique. But Sam...it pales in comparison to what Sam’s capable of. His weapons aren’t knives and his targets may not be made of flesh and blood, but he knows exactly where he needs to strike to rip Bucky open raw. Bucky feels like he’s been flayed alive.

“How about that long vacation?” Sam says, and claps Bucky on the shoulder.

And we’ll never have to see each other ever again goes unsaid.

Fuck.

***

The thing about ignoring Sam’s texts was that Bucky responded if they were actually important. It just so happened that most of the nonsense Sam sent was inane prattling about his day, about his job, his sister, his nephews. Now that he’s on the receiving end of it, though, it feels awful.

3/25/21, 2:58 AM

I’m sorry.

Delivered

3/28/21, 1:51 AM

Can we talk?

Delivered

3/31/21, 3:05 AM

Let me know what to do and I’ll do it.

Read 3:34 AM

4/1/21, 12:42 AM

Or if there’s anything you need.

Read 1:05 AM

Yesterday, 1:00 AM

I’m available if you need another body for a mission.

Read 1:02 AM

A week into the admittedly one-sided exchange, Sam turns his damn read receipts on. It’s ridiculous and it’s fucking asinine and it gets under Bucky’s skin immediately. It’s a form of twenty-first century psychological warfare that he’s unfamiliar with and already can’t stand. Mainly, he hates that it makes him seem desperate (he’s not), needy (he might be, especially when he realizes with horror that he actually misses Sam’s rambling texts), and ridiculous (he definitely is, because he’s letting petty mind games get to him).

Normally, Sam would send him nearly daily updates on his comings and goings – whether he’d been in New York, D.C., or New Orleans. The radio silence is unsettling. Bucky wonders if Sam made good on his promise to take a long vacation. And then....

The thing about apologies is that Bucky isn’t sure he’s ever done a proper one in his entire life, at least nothing beyond a rote “I’m sorry” with the “let’s move on” part left unspoken. But it stands to reason, Bucky thinks, that a proper apology can’t be given if he’s not completely certain what he’s dealing with. That’s all well and good because he’s got the world at the tips of his fingers, is what Yori always said. And when he grows frustrated with reading on his tiny phone screen, the New York Public Library is only a train ride away.

Sam had mentioned precedent, so Bucky’s first search is for medical experimentation. He knows for a fact he was good at this once, a memory of Steve whining about him being too good at exams coming up unbidden. He reads voraciously. Anything and everything that might offer a clue on what he’d missed. And it doesn’t take long for him to find what he’s looking for.

He reads with dawning horror. The Tuskegee syphilis experiments. Eugenics. God, the fucking Nazis had even modeled their race science on the American school of thought. The things that the history books left out. Some of it was even happening under his nose in the 30s, he’d just been blissfully unaware. He somehow ends up down a rabbit hole where words like `prison industrial complex’ and `school-to-prison pipeline’ make increasingly more persistent appearances. New Jim Crow. COINTELPRO. War on drugs. The way all of these horrors reached their long arms into the twenty-first century.

Bucky’s going to be sick. The memories come up one after another.

Just give him your ID so we can leave.

You think you can wake up one day and decide who you want to be? It doesn’t work like that. Well, maybe it does for folks like you.

So you’re telling me that there was a Black supersoldier decades ago and nobody knew about it.

This is what you’re not going to do. You’re not going to come here in your over-extended life and tell me about my rights.

The shield wasn’t yours to give away.

He spends the next week in his downtime reading. With the mission being over and his parole in jeopardy, his downtime mostly coincides with every day of the week.

Had Steve known?

No, he thinks. Steve was compassionate, but he wouldn’t have known because he’d taken one look at the problems of twenty-first century America and decided he’d had enough. Then he’d ran back to the 40s to live out some fantasy that simply didn’t – couldn’t – exist anymore. Had he eventually become aware of all the issues plaguing this country that they’d been able to ignore as starry-eyed kids in Brooklyn? Bucky hopes not, because that would mean he’d...no.

A part of Bucky thinks he’s so surprised because he’d thought things – race relations, civil rights, not things, his brain amends – had been getting better in the 40s. Deep down, though, he knows that’s a lie. A 2 AM read through Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States confirms it. Shady politicians. Klansmen who went back to their day jobs as cops, judges, firefighters. Mass incarceration taking its place as the new king on the throne of segregation. Evidently,

There had been plenty of folks – white folks – raising an uproar about these hidden horrors back then. The seeds of those movements had even been there in the 30s. Bucky tells himself that he’d been raised during the Great Depression, that his family had been too focused on putting food on the table to focus on social movements, but that, too, ends up being a lie. The poorest and working class whites – some, at least – in movement and solidarity with civil rights. Not him, though. Apparently he’d had his head up his ass back then, too.

Bucky can see the bigger picture a tiny bit more clearly, now.

Fine. So he’s been disarmed of the little lies he’d used as shields, and he also owes Sam one hell of an apology.

Somehow, he doesn’t think “I’m sorry, I was ignorant then but I read some books and now I know better” is going to cut it. Maybe a commitment to do better would work? Perhaps after Baltimore, but not now. That ship had long since sailed. Some grand act of service, then? He’s sure he can think of something Sam needs in this post-Blip world that he can provide. He vaguely remembers Sarah mentioning something about a ship and bank loan. That could be a starting point.

It doesn’t take much time to find the public records on the Wilson family business and then the not-so-public records on the denied bank loan. It wouldn’t take much for him to pry a little, not when seedy bankers were astonishingly amenable to the threat of violence. But he’s reminded of Zemo and figures that he ought not to do anything so drastic that could jeopardize Sam’s family situation further.

He snorts. Did growth that came several months late still count?

In the end, he decides to rip the bandage off quickly, which is how he finds himself in the sticky Louisiana heat with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, staring back at an incredulous Sam through his open door.

“I did some reading recently,” Bucky says.

“Hmm.”

It’s not outright refusal, so Bucky continues.

“About, um, the things you mentioned last time. Precedent.”

“Huh.”

For someone who’s normally so expressive with his language, Sam’s one-word answers as nerve-wracking as anything.

“I didn’t fully appreciate the situation that you were in. That you’re still in,” Bucky amends.

Sam shrugs. “It’s cool,” he says in a way that doesn’t sound like he really believes it. Bucky wonders if this is a test; he feels just as lost as he did on that plane a week ago.

“Let’s do this outside,” Sam says, closing the door behind him and ushering Bucky away from it. “Walk with me.”

They head down to the pier mostly in silence until Bucky breaks it. “I’m sorry for making it all about me,” he says.

Sam stares at him. It’s true Bucky might stare a little too much on occasion, but Sam’s stares are utterly unnerving in the way he seems to see right through Bucky when he really wants to, like he’s already mapped out all there is to know.

#sambucky #sam wilson #Bucky Barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws spoilers

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bananaflavoredlemonade · 3 years

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Can someone please take THIS Maura and THIS Jane and continue THIS AU I started work on and cannot for the life of me manage to find the time nor energy to work on.

RIZZLES COLLEGE AU

She was an enigma, this mystery woman. You’d probably seen her a dozen times before you even spoke a single word to each other. She was always just around. You’d spot her leaning casually against the side of an old black Jeep Wrangler, jeans hanging low on her hips and ill-fitting Red Sox t-shirt slung over her frame. She’d wizz past you as she chased a frisbee across the quad, or pause her rush out of doors to silently hold them open for you before fleeing back off. Her laugh would catch you mid-bite of your salad and without fail every time you’d spin to find her cackling with her mouth wide and half chewed food balancing precariously on her white teeth. For reasons you could not explain, you were obsessed. When her air freshener caught your eye, you’d gone home and spent hours scouring specialty air freshener companies to figure out who the man was who’s head was lucky enough to grace her presence. Someone named Jim Halpert was quite the lucky gentleman. And maybe if knowing exactly what her car smelt like before you got anywhere near it filled you with butterflies and warmth well… who could blame you.

She pulls into her typical parking space and waves enthusiastically at a beautiful young man with deliciously creamy chocolate skin and your heart stalled into a palpitation. Watching her tug on a t-shirt over her bikini top and taut abs certainly didn’t help. But when she climbed from the topless car in the sweltering summer heat and clapped a hand on his shoulder blade in a friendly greeting, you caught your breath and heaved a small sigh of relief. Maybe becoming enamoured with a complete stranger was not the best decision.

You’re staring down at your phone, speed walking across the quad to get to your next class when heavy footfalls start landing beside you. Black Nike slides are beside your birkenstocks as they pass over the grass you’re crossing and you immediately question the motivations of whomever would choose to wear white tube socks with a sandal-style shoe. That is until the culprit speaks and you realise that you absolutely should’ve picked it sooner.

“Maura Isles” the gravelly voice speaks as a hand casually comes to your lower back and averts you from becoming roadkill under the size 13’s of some speedy and oblivious jock running across your path. “You’re quite the hazard. With your head down all the time, or staring off into space. One of these days someone is going to wipe you out and I’ll have to take out a douche in a jersey, then we’ll have trouble.”

Her eyes are such a deep brown that you’re unsurprised you’ve been unable to make out her eye colour from afar. “You know my name.” it’s a ridiculous statement to make, but instead of judging you she simply laughs with her head thrown back and hand still burning a hole into your lower back.

You’re almost at the study hall that you’ll be trapped in for the next hour and for once you aren’t looking forward to class. “Of course I do.” You quirk your brow at her, because you’re almost certain you’ve never interacted with any of the people you’ve seen her around, she’s definitely not in any of your classes, and this is the first time you’ve spoken. “It’s on your phone case.”

In your palm, you flip over your leather encased phone to survey the back where – as you already know – ‘M. Isles’ is imprinted in silver. “Ah, yes.”

“I usually only see those with initials. But then again; I’m no phone expert. Mine are typically held together by duct tape and desperation.”

Your eye roll is instantaneous and unavoidable as you helpfully relay to her, “My mother. She insists that I ‘take pride’ in my name. So when I requested a personalised phone case with my initials on it and opened this, I was truly unsurprised.” You pause to laugh “displeased, but unsurprised.”

Her feet stop suddenly as you reach the lecture hall and her calloused hands disappear into the pockets of her short black shorts, fingers outlined within her pockets as the tips force the inners of the pockets from the bottoms of her shorts. “Well, this is you.” You look up and it is. You open your mouth to ask how she knew, but she’s already speaking. “It was nice speaking to you, Maura Isles.” It’s absolutely salacious the way that your name rolls off of her tongue and for the first time possibly ever, you’re pleased to hear someone use your full name.

Only, you’ve just realised that you’re unsure how she knows your first name. By the time you get around to asking, she’s already backing away with you with a smirk on her face. “Hold on! How did you know my name is Maura? That’s not written anywhere.”

Her singular stride back towards you is so deliciously long and your eyes are helpless against the tantalising display of thigh muscle on display when she leans towards you to whisper “You have quite the intriguing Tinder profile. I put two and two together.” Closely resembling a fish out of water, you watch as she chuckles and backs away with a wink. “Have fun in Bio.”

“What’s your name?” You call after her much louder than is necessary. She says absolutely nothing as she raises her hand in the air above her head so that you can see if over her shoulder and makes a repeated swiping motion, her thumb moving to the right repeatedly before slipping back into the pocket of her shorts.

And if you spend your entire class with your head down and eyes intently focused on the app you’ve left untouched for months, swiping left for the next 37.5 minutes until a tanned and angled face with sparking eyes is looking at you from your screen over aviator sunglasses; well you’ve never been known to back down from a challenge. “Jane” you say aloud before closing the app on a photo of her chiselled abs and bulging biceps straining against the weight above her head.

Two days later you pass her once again leaning against her jeep in the ridiculous socks and slides combo that makes you smile despite the fashion atrocity that’s being committed. You’re not close enough to speak, and even if you were, you’re unsure you’d be able to stop the beautiful black boy in his monologue long enough to get a word in. But her eyes are on you below the sunglasses she placed on her head as you began to approach. When you quirk a smile and silently mouth “Hello Jane” you know that she’s caught your greeting. And as a smile takes over her face, you raise your phone between you and swipe left on her profile. “Work for it” you mouth with a wink.

It’s worked. Her mouth drops open, pupils and eyes blowing wide. You can feel them trailing after your swaying hips and short shorts, and the burn they leave on your ass is delicious. Game on.

It’s over a week before there is any indication that Jane is going to meet your challenge with anything more than a heated look and tantalising lip bite from across the quad. However hope is struck every day that you spot her loitering around the college grounds, and that’s just enough to keep you from giving up. You’re walking out of your Tuesday morning chemistry lecture when she sweeps in next to you.

There’s a single yellow sunflower in between the fingers of her left hand and her right comes to rest hotly against your lower back. She’s dressed unseasonably warm in a white button-up and black jeans that are folded up at the ankles and skimming the top of brown leather boots. It makes you feel inferior in your simple sundress and standard birkenstocks. “For you.” She smiles, holding the sunflower in front of you. The nervousness in her eyes sets off butterflies in your stomach.

“Thank you, it’s beautiful.” Her nervous energy shifts to confidence as you sniff the flower and hold it close to your shy smile. “What’s the occasion? It feels like such a privilege to see you in something other than jock couture.”

“Jock couture?” she snickers. “What exactly is jock couture?”

You look her up and down appraisingly with a cheeky raised eyebrow before muttering “Socks and slides” disapprovingly with a nod towards her feet “running shorts, oversized shirts, baseball caps.” She laughs at you with her head thrown back and her perfect white teeth on show. “I would make the assumption that if we were to open your closet, you’d be able to dress the entirety of the football and baseball teams with its contents and not have anyone question it.”

“I don’t know, I don’t think Frost would look nearly as good as me in my shorts.” Your eyes shift to the parking lot where unsurprisingly your eyes clap onto the beautiful African-American man you’ve seen Jane talking with previously. “Now can we please stop slamming me for how I have been dressed, and appreciate the effort I put in today?” Your eyes run over her form again and you do have to agree that she looks great. “I’m sweating my ass off to try and look half decent.”

You stop her in the middle of the footpath and turn to look at her approvingly. The hand on your back slips off and comes to rest in her pocket as she watches you looking her up and down. “You do look very handsome.” Her approving smile has you nervously shifting your bag up your shoulder and you have to shake your head to dislodge the smitten look on your face. “Now why are you looking so dashing?”

“You’ll see” she winks as she spins you back into motion and suddenly you’re striding back down the footpath towards the restricted Phelman quad that sits to the side of the western lecture halls, and at the base of the Phelman dorms. You’re about to comment that the area is only accessible to tenants of the dorms when she tugs the Red Sox lanyard from her pocket, swipes a fob against the gates keypad and pushes against the ornate entrance. She guides you in and gestures to a picnic blanket set up in the centre of the grassed area. “Everyone’s gotta eat.”

You’re too busy standing in awe of her to follow over to the blanket. However, your eyes track her over to the set up and watch as she rests down on the mat, pulling out containers and drinks from a cooler. She sets down a tray of assorted sushi, a bowl of salad, a packet of your favourite lentil chips, and a tub of homemade guacamole. It all looks delicious and your mouth salivates so aggressively that you doubt you’ll need the soda water or iced tea she’s brought to wash down your meal. “How?” you mutter in disbelief, and it shocks you when Jane smiles up at you charmingly. You were sure she’d not’ve been able to hear you.

“I.. um…” She rubs the back of her neck nervously and you finally see another side to the cocky seductress you’d spent weeks surveying. “I guessed at most of it, but I saw you eating these chips the other day while you read under that big oak by Mossman Hall, and I’ve seen you pick this iced tea from the vending machine before. So I figured they were both a safe bet.” She shifts the tray of sushi out of the way and pulls a wireless speaker from the cooler to put in its place. “I got some vegetarian options if you don’t eat meat, but honestly I don’t know a twenty year old who doesn’t like sushi so..”

Her hands are shifting so nervously over the picnic rug that you feel the need to take pity on her. “Are you making a generalisation Jane?” Her eyes trail you as you hike up your skirt in anticipation of sitting down next to her, and as your fingers skim the tops of your thighs as you lower, you see her breath catch.

Her eyes are on your face as you reach for the container of guac and inspect the flecks of coriander, onion, and chilli that you can see mixed amongst the avocado. “Yeah I guess I was.” You laugh at her and peer up from under your eyelashes. “But it took me a week to figure out the chips and tea, so if you wanted I could go away and come back in a month with a more personalised menu.” She jokingly pushes up from her seated position and you tug her back to the rug with a laugh.

You’re typically hesitant to use colloquialisms or any term that had to be inducted into the Urban Dictionarybefore it could be submitted to Websters, but you know from observing Jane that they’re all frequent participants in her vocabulary, so you resolve to at least try. Starting by venturing with the statement, “Well I guess then that you could call me a ‘typical white girl’, because I am quite fond of Sushi. Though I would prefer traditional Nigiri, I’ve been known to consume a westernised sushi roll in between classes.”

Jane looks as if she is about to choke on the air trapped between her cheeks and you know that the laugh will be explosive when it’s released. “Did that sound as ridiculous as it felt to say?” She nods at you and releases the laugh through her teeth. You laugh along with her and rub your forehead, “Colloquialisms and I are not exactly what you would call well acquainted.”

“You’re just not at all what I would call a ‘basic white girl’ is all.” You blush and reach for your sunglasses inside your handbag, hoping to provide yourself with an escape from both the sun and her stare. “You’re unique, Maur. Don’t ever take that for granted.” You clasp eyes with her before you can secure the Ray Bans across your eyes and the look you share is intense. She’s burning into something so much deeper than your eyes, and you don’t know how to appropriately characterise it without venturing into a belief system that you’ve never before given an ounce of credit. Eventually you both slip from the visual embrace and as you raise the glasses into place, she presses play on the speaker, softly releasing the first bars of Surprise Yourself by Jack Garratt. You’d be flawed by the immediate similarities in your music taste if it weren’t for your brain already stalling at how beautiful she looks tipping her face towards the sunshine. Maybe ‘Handsome’ wasn’t quite as apt a descriptor as you’d thought at the time. With the sunshine on her high cheekbones and rays kissing at her exposed chest beyond the opened buttons of her shirt, she is decidedly striking in a uniquely feminine way that you’d not considered moments ago.

You’d spent some time talking idly about your families – jane has two younger brothers and her mother, her father has been absent for the past few years -, the weather, and your classes that are scheduled for the remainder of the day. Jane tells you about the boutique florist just off campus that she’d visited for your flower and promises to take you sometime when you fail to hide your delight at the news of a new local source for your botany habit. You’ve worked your way through a good portion of Jane’s playlist and its as Falling Down by This Wild Life begins lilting through the speakers that you realise that for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re not uncomfortable with another human being. You slip your feet out of your birks and tuck your legs up under you, sipping at the soda water in your faux flute while you watch Jane swipe a napkin across her plump lower lip. It’s infuriatingly seductive for such an unconscious action. A sigh of contentment runs through you and you shift again to stretch your legs out, flexing your toes into the points that years of ballet had made commonplace. Jane watches the action and you rest back on your elbows, body fully extended and at ease. “What just happened here?” she queries, motioning to your body.

You sigh and tilt your hear towards the sky, “Whatever do you mean?”

“This” she says, eyes raking over your form, “Something just happened with you.”

“I guess I’m just comfortable” you say to the sky, lips parting in a relaxed smile. “humans are.. they’re not an area I excel in.”

Her boot taps the bottom of your foot and she giggles. “Arent you pre-med? I hate to break it to you, but you’ll need to deal with one or two of ‘em after you graduate.”

You smile in her direction in the same relaxed way you had been earlier, “I’m studying to be a pathologist. I know that I’d be a disadvantage to the medical community if I were to work with live patients. My social skills are questionable at best, completely inept at worst. I’m incompatible with most personality types, and my lack of understanding around social queues and societal norms makes me somewhat unappealing to most people.” You meet her eyes when you say the next part, “So to realise that in this moment I’m at ease..” you trail off into a sweet sigh, “it’s so lovely.”

“I’m glad I could do that for you.”

“So tell me about you Jane” you say from your reclined position, eyes closing against the warmth of the sun. “I know so little about you, apart from your family, your evident love of the Red Sox, and the fact that you watch The Office.”

Jane laughs into the air, “How do you know I watch The Office?”

“Your air freshener. It is Jim Halpert from The Office, right?” She gives you a disbelieving look. “I googled it.”

Her smile is infectious and you can feel it projecting into the side of your face from where she sits across from you. “You would be correct Doctor Isles.” She boosts her body up into a more prone position and leans towards you. “Where to start..”

You speak up from your position, “Should we start with what you’re doing on campus? I assume you don’t study here. I’ve never seen you in a class, you never have any books, and you always seem to be the centre of whatever social gathering is happening in the parking lot.” She gives you a comical glare and you challenge her with a quirked brow, “Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not wrong.” You exchange a smile and your face returns to the sky. “A lot of my buddies go here. Frost who you would’ve seen, Riley, Joey, and a couple of the guys from my baseball league. Between their classes and my work schedule it’s easier for us to just catch up here. I get out of my shitty little apartment, and they don’t have to travel off campus.”

“Work” you offer helpfully.

“I’m a security guard. I mostly work nights at private events for the upper crust crowd. My boss, Korsak, he’s an ex cop, teaches me things on the go so that I can be prepared when I finally get around to enrolling in the academy.”

You smile to yourself, truly unsurprised by this revelation. “When are you planning to apply?”

Jane is reaching for the leftover lentil chips from your lunch when she answers you, “Most likely in the winter. I didn’t wanna just leap right in. I wanted to be prepared, ya’know.” She puts a couple of chips in her mouth and speaks while she chews. A truly repulsive habit that you have to keep your eyes closed against. “Work on my form, get all my ducks lined up, prepare my Ma. She’s gonna have a real hard time accepting that I’m signing up to chase criminals and murderers every day. Plus I wanted to take the time to really get myself mentally prepared; Korsak talks all the time about Cadets and Rookies who join the academy all gung-ho and then drop out when they cant hack the pace. The way he tells it, they all crap out because of the mental strain.” Jane eats a whole handful of chips in one mouthful and continues to speak as crumbs fall from her lips, “We all oviuzlee in peak pisikal fom wen we sign up. Couple-a push ups aren’t taking this down.” She slaps a hand against her stomach that echoes hollowly the way that only a perfectly-toned abdomen would. Crumbs dislodging from her shirt.

“Speaking with your mouth full is a truly repulsive habit.” You tilt your head in her direction and look over your sunglasses at her.

“So sorry Mrs Manners.”

Your face tilts back up to the sun when you respond, “That’s an admirable career choice Jane. When did you decide you wanted to work in law enforcement?”

#Rizzles #Rizzoli and Isles #Jane Rizzoli #Maura Isles #modern day college au #Rizzles AU #Rizzoli & Isles #please lord someone write this #it could be soooo cute #Fanfiction #Fanfic #Prompt #unfinished work #hipster jane #boho maura

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buckysbitch107 · 3 years

Text

Home Isn’t Just A Place Part 2 | Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Life in 2023 is very different from your old life 80 years ago. Steve has caught you up on some of it, but there’s still so much for you to find out.

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Slight Allusion to Habits of an Eating Disorder, Fluff, Nudity?

Word Count: 2.6K

A/N: Here’s part two of this small little series. Hope you like this one and I hope it meets your standards! I deeply apologize for not being active for a while. I am going to attempt to upload on a schedule, but school and mental health and COVID are all impacting my life in a negative way at the moment. I have been struggling with my bipolar disorder and depression, so I am in fact trying my best.

“Winnie the Pooh.” Steve calls out, bending his head over the back of the couch to project his voice across the common room. A small gasp and running footsteps are the only sounds heard on that floor of the tower before your figure appears in the doorway of the kitchen and living room.

“POOH!” You squeal, throwing your arms up in the air, the material of Steve’s sweatshirt flopping over your hands. As soon as you found out that wearing your partner’s clothes in the 21st century was acceptable, you practically pillaged Steve’s closet of all sweatshirts and shirts in general. The past two and a half months have been full of learning pop culture and getting caught up with the 78 years you skipped, which included all things Disney. Nat giggles at your response to Steve’s words, and he holds up a finger before leaning his head back again.

“Y/N, what’s the most wonderful thing about tiggers?” He asks, a small smile forming on his face as you gasp and your eyes light up like a kid in a candy store.

“Well, the wonderful thing about tiggers is, that tiggers are wonderful things.” You explain, the smile sticking on your face as you continue reciting the song. “Their tops are made out of rubber, their bottoms are made out of springs. They’re flouncy, bouncy, trouncy, councy, fun fun fun fun fun! But the most wonderful thing about tiggers is that I’m the only one!” You flop down onto Steve’s lap as the finale to the song, and he quickly wraps his arms around you to protect you from falling off the couch.

“Told you she’s obsessed.” He mumbles to Nat, a frown appearing on your face as you overhear his words.

“Not my fault Walt Disney’s a genius.” Natasha silently agrees with you, the small nod she gives you making you pump your fists in victory. As Steve and Natasha continue their conversation, you lay in Steve’s lap and play with the dog tags hanging around his neck. He runs his hand through your hair, slowly lulling you to sleep.

~~~

“But-”

“No! I am on my break!” You exclaim, finishing your extra assigned duty of organizing the different bandages and gauzes.

“Y/NNNNNNN-”

“NO! How many times have I told you? Steve’s shield should not be used as a frisbee, and Redwing should not be used to divebomb your friends.” You screech once more, attempting to brush off the three dipshits you call friends, all with different ailments caused by the shield and the tiny robotic bird.

“How did you know about Redwing?!”

“Part of Redwing is stuck in Buck’s arm.”

“Ah.” Sighing once again, you motion to the table and try not to laugh as all three of them try to fit on the medical bench at once. The three men somehow all fit, squishing each other a little bit but eventually sitting normally. You look at the clock and sigh, knowing your break only lasts for another fifteen minutes. You start with Steve, cleaning off the bruises and cuts on his face, even though they’ll heal in a moment. Moving to Bucky, you pull his arm forward and begin carefully maneuvering the broken piece out of his upper arm. You tug. He flinches. Finally, the piece comes out of Bucky’s arm and the man sighs.

“Thank you.” Bucky mumbles, flexing his fingers to make sure everything is still intact.

“Yeah, yeah.” You say, brushing him off with a small wave. “Don’t thank me until I’ve fixed the only purely human person in your idiotic triad.” Sam looks down at his feet and you chuckle, grabbing an antiseptic wipe and attempting to clean the cut from Steve’s shield.

“OW!”

“It would hurt less if you stopped moving!” This continues for what seemed like hours but was only a few seconds. You were finally able to clean and bandage the cut on Sam’s forehead and hand him some Tylenol for the other bruises after he stopped whining like a four year old. The three of them sat there for a little longer while you finished cleaning up and they thanked you, one by one heading out of the medbay. Steve lingered, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re adjusting really well. I’m proud of you.” He whispers.

“I know! I barely say gas anymore!” Steve smiles and kisses you once more before walking out after the other two. After putting away the bandages and tweezers, you sit down to actually enjoy your break, now shortened to ten minutes instead of thirty. You pick up the nearest magazine and start reading. Everything is going fine, until you reach the advice section of the magazine. And I thought the 40’s were harsh about women.

~~~

What you read in that magazine shook you a bit. You knew that beauty standards had changed over the years, but you didn’t know that they changed THAT much. Women were expected to be so much skinnier and healthier and plastic. After overhearing Steve tell Bucky he’d always liked a girl with a “good figure”, you began striving to look like the girls on the pages of magazines. Cooking healthier meals, working out more, even skipping meals sometimes to not pile on carbs. You realized it wasn’t the healthiest, but it seemed to be working. And yet every day, you looked in the mirror and loathed yourself a little bit more. On this mediocre day, you had just finished a run and were now looking for food when Wanda walked into the kitchen.

“Hey Y/N!” She exclaims, walking over to you as you dug through the fridge. “What’cha making?”

“Oh nothing, just grabbing an apple for lunch.” You say nonchalantly.

“For lunch? Aren’t you gonna eat more than that?” She looks at you worriedly while you shrug and she sighs, pulling you closer to her so she can look at you head on. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“What do you mean?”

“An apple for lunch, working out when just three months ago you mentioned loathing it, and you’ve been skipping dinner with the team a lot. What’s going on?” You shrug once again and she pulls you over to the couch on the other side of the room before staring at you and gesturing for you to talk.

“Well- the future is really new and exciting, but it’s also scary. I picked up a magazine a while ago and it talked about body figures. And I know I don’t have the prettiest body but the future seems really harsh and then I overheard Steve talking to Bucky and saying he likes a girl with a good figure and I’m chubby and-” At this point, you begin to cry and hyperventilate as you vent your feelings to Wanda. She listens quietly as you rant about how you feel overweight and unlovable in the future, and how you think Steve is getting sick of you and might leave you for a different woman. A modern woman. A skinnier woman.

“Oh you poor thing.” Wanda whispers, pulling you into a hug as you cry harder. She turns her head, a certain blond-haired man catching her eye as he stands quietly in the doorway. You continue to sob as Wanda glares at your still-fiance and rubs your back. They seem to communicate telekinetically before Steve nods and walks away, leaving Wanda to calm you down.

~~~

You slowly walk into the apartment you share with Steve, your medical bag slung over your shoulder. You slam the door behind you and take off your shoes, setting your bag next to the door. You’re about to stand up when a pair of hands clamps around your eyes. Gasping, you’re about to fight back when a familiar voice begins to shush you.

“It’s just me, it’s just me.” Steve whispers, causing you to relax a little while Steve loosens his hands a little bit. You start to speak as you attempt to pry his hands off your eyes.

“Why didn’t you say that? You nearly gave me a heart atta-”

“Don’t open your eyes!” He exclaims, scaring you once again. Steve can practically feel your heart begin to race once again. “I-I have a surprise for you.” You nod and he stands you up, leading you blindly further into the apartment.

“Should I be nervous?”

“I don’t think so.” Steve answers, leading you a little bit further before taking one of his hands off your eyes, sliding the other to cover both. You hear the balcony door open and wind rushes in as Steve leads you out onto what you assume is your balcony. He removes his hand and you quickly gasp as you look around you. The tiny balcony that had once only contained a single light was now covered in soft yellow fairy lights, a rug placed down instead of the harsh concrete and soft music playing. You quickly recognize this as the song you two danced to the night he proposed. The night he left. Turning around, you find him standing there with one hand out to you and a grin on his face. “May I have this dance?”

“Of course.” Steve quickly grabs your hands and pulls you closer. Resting your head on his shoulder, the two of you slowly sway to the beat of the song, the calming chaos of the streets of Manhattan now just a background noise in your tiny little bubble. You look up at Steve and he’s smiling down at you, occasionally mouthing along to the song. Quietly laughing once more, you decide to focus on the man in front of you, starting with his eyes. “Have your eyes always been this blue?”

“I mean, I think so. Kind of hard to tell.”

“Well they’re pretty.” He smiles at your compliment, and Steve hears you mumble something else. He doesn’t quite catch it all, but he does hear one word. Kids. The two of you dance for a little while longer before it starts to actually get cold, and the two of you head inside.

“I have one more thing.” He says, taking your hand and leading you to the bathroom. The two of you stand in front of the mirror as he slowly starts to undress you, and your mind goes in a whole different direction than what he’s planning. Steve finishes pulling off your clothes and instead of kissing you like you’d hoped, he moves you in front of him so you’re forced to stare at your reflection. You start to squirm as he looks at you, a small frown resting on his face. “I hear you talking to Wanda today.” He starts, immediately being cut off by your gasp.

“Oh god. I’m so sorry. None of that has to deal with you, it’s just me being stupid and-” You quiet down when Steve gives you that look, and he soon resumes talking.

“You’re not stupid. Your reasoning is valid, but I want you to know that you have nothing to worry about. I will always choose you.” But what if you don’t? He can practically see the doubt on your face, so he pulls you closer to him and begins his original plan. Steve kisses the top of your head, lips pressed softly against your hair. “I love your hair because it’s part of you. It’s gorgeous and always seems to look perfect, no matter how much you criticize it.” And he continues doing that. Going slowly down your body and pointing out what he loves about every single part of your being. Once he reaches your thighs, however, you start to grow more self-conscious. How could he love something like that? It’s all cellulite. And yet he carries on.

“I love your thighs because they’re perfect to hold. Whether I’m dancing with you in my arms or having them squeeze my head, they’re perfect in every way. They’re perfect for me, because they’re a part of you.”

Every single body part, from the hair on your head to the feet attached to your legs (he didn’t kiss those, he said no thank you), was properly adorned with love from your fiance. By the time he finishes, there are tears in your eyes, and he stands up with a goofy smile on his face.

“I want you to know this, Y/N. I mean every word I just said. I love every part of you.” You nod slowly and he finally does what you’ve been waiting for. Steve kisses you softly before pulling away and beginning to run a shower. You stand there quietly until he’s done, and he motions for you to join him. Once the shower is warmed up, the two of you make your way in, simply staring at each other for the time being. Steve wraps his arms around your shoulders in a hug, the two of you just standing there silently under the water.

“I love you.” You murmur, some of your words blocked by his chest, the others getting through to him. Your fiance smiles and looks down at you, similar to the way he did outside.

“I love you too.” He gives you a kiss on the forehead before reaching behind you, grabbing your bottle of body wash and squirting some on his hand. Confusion crosses your eyes before he begins washing you, something he does every once in a while on special nights. Your fiance carefully moves his hands around your body, his actions calming from the very hectic day you had. He continues to do this with your shampoo and conditioner, movely slowly in order to not pull you from the beautiful land between sleep and consciousness. Once he finishes with you, Steve lets you rest against him as he takes care of his own shower routine. The one time he moves you is to rinse out your hair, making sure everything is out in order to not have to do it again. He knows how much you hate being woken up.

~~~

Grabbing a towel, he carefully wraps it around your body, drying you off before repeating his actions on himself. The two of you exit the bathroom and you stand in the middle of the bedroom, your fiance moving around somewhere off to your right. Steve returns with his shirt and boxers for you to where, along with some boxers for himself. After getting dressed, the two of you brush your teeth and get ready for bed before finally falling into the wildly-made bed from this morning when the two of you were late. You cuddle into Steve’s side and wrap his arm around your shoulder, the man chuckling at your actions. The two of you sit there for a little longer before Steve turns to you.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“What did you say about kids earlier? After you asked about my eyes?” You stare up at him as you start to blush, and Steve nudges you to explain what you said.

“I said-” You pause. “I said that I hope our kids have your eyes.” You hear Steve gasp and you look down at his chest, the two of you never having the conversation of kids before.

“You-you want kids?” He asks, sitting up to be able to look you in the eyes.

“Of course I do! I’ve wanted them since forever, but back then, you said you were scared of them having your medical problems. And now it seems we kind of don’t have time for them with the whole saving the world thing and-” Steve cuts you off with a kiss, the both of you smiling and he pulls back first.

“I will make time for them.” He whispers, kissing you once more for good measure. “So,” He begins, sitting up a little straighter. “When do we want to start trying?”

Permanent Tags: @wintersoldierslut @breakmy-bedbarnes @stuckys-hot-dogs @andreasworlsboring101 @yaxamarvel @donutloverxo @celaena-carstairs-cullen

Just a reminder that all requests are open! My masterlist is in my bio, so you guys know who I specialize in, but really I do anyone y’all request. As I’ve mentioned, nothing is too fluffy, angsty, smutty, or gorey for me. I mainly write Marvel and its characters/actors. I can also write some characters from other things, you just have to ask! Also please let me know if you want to be a part of the Permanent Tags! My Prompts list is attached to my masterlist in case you need something extra! But please, for now,

Call me Emily

#Steve Rogers #Steven Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #captain america #captain america shield #Marvel Captain America #captain america fic #captain america one shot #Chris Evans #fluff #marvel #Marvel Comics #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #chris evans imagine #captain america imagine

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jewishbarbies · 3 years

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lorraine battle ∞ piotr rasputin (+ deadpool)

(the alternate timeline)

"Look, Colossus—and bride of Colossus—I don't have time for your goodie-two-shoes bullshit right now," Wade spat at the giant metal man and his partner, as he climbed to his feet. Then his head dipped, eyes shifting to the much shorter, teen-aged girl beside them both. "And you are...?"

Lori pinched the bridge of her nose between her index finger and thumb as the girl replied, stoically, "Negasonic Teenage Warhead."

"Negasonic Teenage- what the shit?! That's the coolest name ever! So, what, you're like, uh...their love child?"

"She's a trainee," Lori tilted her head in an expression, looking at Wade through the white eyes of his suit like she didn't appreciate his humor. Which, at the moment, was true. However, she never thought of him or his jokes to be repulsive much at all—only his obsession with Colossus and her relationship with him.

Negasonic sighed as she walked to an abandoned car just feet away, before hopping up onto the lid of its trunk. She watched as Wade walked between Colossus and Lori to return to his nemesis—Francis. "Let me guess," Wade said. "X-Men left you two behind on- what- shit detail?"

"What does that make you?" Negasonic sarcastically questioned.

"Pretending you're not here, Negasonic Teenage Warhead. Can we trade names?" Wade sent his fist into Francis' face, and Negasonic couldn't help but roll her eyes. Lori felt the itch to follow suit, but thought better of it.

Negasonic looked to Lori then, "Can we go?"

"Look, I'm a teenage girl. I'd rather be anywhere than here. I'm all about long, sullen silences, followed by mean comments, followed by more silences," Wade lightened his voice and pretended to flip imaginary hair over his shoulder as he started walking back toward the X-trio. He walked right past Colossus and Lori, making a straight line for Negasonic, still sitting on the car trunk. He rested his hands atop the metal on either side of her to lean in as he continued, "So, what's it gonna be, huh? Long, sullen silence or mean comment? Go on."

Negasonic stared, remaining stoic even so close to his masked face. "You got me in a box here," she replied, voice void of any interest.

But Wade celebrated the victory with a shouted, "Ah ha!" and a wave of his arms, jabbing a finger in Colossus' direction. Colossus opened his mouth to speak but Lori reached up a hand, briefly touching his arm before turning to see Wade. He was lining up a hubcap to throw at Francis like a large frisbee.

"Wade, can we be honest with each other for a sec?" Lori asked, allowing her arms to fall to her sides as she squinted against the sun.

"Heads up," Wade said, as he sent the hubcap flying. It made a metallic thudding sound as it connected with Francis' head, and Wade turned to see Lori behind him. "Oh, I see what you're doing! A little good cop-bad cop. Which one are you?"

"Well, at least I'm not an asshole. Look at what you did! In broad daylight! You don't see how that's the least bit concerning?" her voice rose an octave as she gestured an arm toward the mess of wrecked cars and bloodied bodies behind them all.

Wade shouted, stepping toward her, "I am not in the mood for one of Lorraine's self-righteous, pearl-clutching mother speeches!"

"This is it, Wade. I'm at my wit's end constantly having to defend you and make excuses. Unless you can explain this to me, full transparency—I'm done."

The words smacked Wade between the eyes, and it stung. It wasn't supposed to. Yet, he felt the full brunt of them, and the look in her eyes only twisted the dagger. She'd always held out hope that he would be a hero—maybe not the way Charles wanted, but in a way that worked for him. It was the general consensus that Wade was out of control, far too violent, and either needed to fall in line or go somewhere he couldn't kill anyone.

Every time the discussion came up, every time they found out he'd done something else—each progressively worse—she found herself defending him. Begging for another chance. Her husband humored her, convincing Charles to wait just a little while longer. Wade knew. He'd always known. She had been patient and kind when others weren't and, now more than ever, he wished he could bring himself to talk to her. To explain what happened, to ask for help. But he followed his first instinct and refused to take that chance—to shut down.

"Listen! The day I decide to become a crime-fighting shit swizzler who lives with a bunch of other whiners at the Neverland mansion of some creepy, old, bald, Heaven's Gate looking motherfucker- on that day! I'll send your happy asses a friend request. But until then, I'm gonna do what I came here to do," Wade replied, defiantly. Shoving a finger up at Colossus, he added, "Either that, or slap the bitch outta him."

Lori's throat ached. She expected nothing less—but it burned. Blinking to force her eyes to water without overflowing, she moved them away, nodding slowly as she took a step back. It was then that movement caught Negasonic's eye, and she spoke up, "Uh, hate to interrupt, but-"

"Zip it, Sinéad!" Wade pointed at her next.

Negasonic pointed over his shoulder, "Hey, Douche-Pool!"

Finally, Wade twisted in his stance to look. Francis was escaping on a motorbike, the sound echoing into a fade as he disappeared from sight, and Wade loosed a loud, elongated gasp. "Quite unfortunate," Colossus said, as his arms fell to his sides.

"That does it!"

Wade turned fully to face Colossus and jumped up, swinging with his right hand in a rage. But as his hand connected with Colossus' metal skin, a loud crack sounded, and Wade fell to his knees. He cradled his hand as it hung limply from his wrist. Lori exhaled a deep breath, resting her hands on her hips as she cringed at the sight. "Canada!" Wade exclaimed. "Ugh. That's not good."

Colossus tried to reason with him once again, "Wade, please-"

But Wade was not listening. Instead, he twisted on his knees, thrusting his left fist upward with a small, "Cock shot!" Again, a loud, metallic thud and a crack resounded from the impact of his fist hitting the metal skin of Colossus' groin. Wade whimpered as his second hand hung limp from the wrist, broken.

"Oh! Your poor wife," Wade wheezed out the sarcastic comment.

Lori's lips pulled thin, knowingly, as she tried desperately not to find it funny. Though, this fight wasn't going to go anywhere of importance. That much was obvious, when you consider the fighters. They could trade hits all day and probably not find a winner. Especially not with Colossus' pacifist attitude. So, Lori excused herself, "Hope he's worth it. Knock yourself out, babe."

Wade's eyes followed her as she walked past him, rounding the wrecked car behind him to start the trek toward the jet, parked not far away on an empty patch of highway. "This won't take long," Colossus called after her. She held a thumb over her head to show she'd heard him but kept walking. Looking back would be too much—too much, too soon. Wade hissed and groaned as he got to his feet without the help of his hands. The limp hands swayed with a crunching, sloshing sound and he stared at them a moment.

Then, he spoke quietly to himself, "All the dinosaurs feared the T-Rex."

tag list: @ohmansebastianstan @heirsoflilith @blue-sparrow-15 @lukespatterson @fpxloomis @ben-bcrnes @spacebclls @darknightfrombeyond @jewelswrites-ish @sgtbuckyybarnes (want to be added? hmu ♡)

#lorraine battle #piotr rasputin #lorpete #otp: russia's greatest love machine #criminals #mine #my edits #my writing #gcu #i didn't expect to write the full scene #but here we are #i got a little carried away lmaO #enjoy

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nickpakin · 4 years

Text

You’re like a fucking golden retriever, don’t you give up?

Summary:

Charlie gets Alex an actual golden retriever as a present for their one-year anniversary, but then gets jealous when he starts to see that Alex has been spending way too much time with his pet.

Charlie’s POV:

I have always loved when my beloved boyfriend, Alex Standall, would call me a golden retriever in a human body. So to show him how much I appreciate him using that label on me, I decided to adopt an actual golden retriever puppy as an anniversary present for Alex. After finishing up with work, I drive straight to Alex's apartment. Once I headed to the front door and rang the doorbell, I begin to pose comically with some balloons and the box with our new pet in it as Alex answers the door.

"Happy anniversary, honey bear!" I beamed as I saw Alex's pretty face.

"Charlie, we've talked about honey bear." Alex groaned in embarrassment.

"But it's an adorable nickname." I pouted.

"On Mars, maybe." He joked.

Alex elevates himself on his tiptoes to kiss me. There was never a day where I didn’t miss the taste of Alex's soft, cherry-flavored chapstick. I give a few more cheeky kisses to the most handsome man in existence before settling down on his living room couch.

"Look what I got you." I said as I handed Alex the box.

I watch my boyfriend as he roughly tears off the wrapping paper until the mystery in that box was finally revealed before him.

"Oh. my. god." Alex gasped. "It's so so cute!"

The puppy pops up from the box and jumps right into Alex's arms. My smile widens as I looked at Alex absolutely gushing over the cuteness of the tiny golden retriever.

"Wow it's so fluffy!" Alex said. "Where did you get it?"

"PetSmart." I chuckled.

"Thank you so much, babe.” Alex smiled. “What’s its name? I am already obsessed."

"His name is Max, and you're welcome." I said as I lay my arm around his shoulder. "I love you, baby."

"I love you too, Charles." He says before kissing my lips.

Me and my adorable boyfriend relax on the couch while we both welcome the newest member of our little family in our arms.

"We’re gonna get along real well, huh Max?" Alex gushed while ruffling his fingers through Max’s fur.

"Yes we will." I said, mimicking Max.

In this moment in time, I knew he was right. Max, Alex and I are gonna be one, big, happy family. What could possibly go wrong?

FEW WEEKS LATER

I wake up from my good night's sleep and proceed to text my boyfriend to see if he had any plans for today. After celebrating our anniversary, it had gotten complicated for us to see each other these past few weeks because of Alex being busy with work and preparing for his college final exams all while taking care of Max. As much as I wanted to be there to keep him company, Alex really cares about studies and I want him to thrive and succeed. But at the same time I wish I was there to help him relax from all the stress he had been through.

CHARLIE: Are you up, babe? 👀😊

ALEX: i am now

CHARLIE: So Tyler and Estela invited us to go to the movies with them today. You wanna come?

ALEX: Can’t. Have to study for this stupid college algebra final tomorrow.

CHARLIE: Aww that sucks. 🥺 Well... maybe I could take you out to the mall after you're done?

ALEX: Nope, history exam the next day sadly. anyways gotta go practice with my quadratic equations :(

CHARLIE: ok good luck! Luv you honey bear! ❤️😘

Several minutes pass and Alex leaves me with no reply. My boyfriend has never ended our conversations without texting 'I love you' back. The more I waited, the more worried I became which made me think that something was up. After picking up Tyler and Estela, I decide to stop by his place to see if he was okay. As I parked near the curb, I glance out the window to observe his residence. Just when I thought I would see my boyfriend looking all pretty and studious, I see him running around playing with Max in the front lawn.

"What the hell?" I said, clenching my fist on the wheel.

Alex literally said he had to study tonight, but from what I was seeing right in front of my eyes it seems my so-called boyfriend has somehow completely fallen in love with that dog. He has never lied to me; not even once, until I let Max enter the picture. I started to think that maybe I should never have given Alex that dog for his birthday. Seeing the love of my life avoiding me while being with that monstrosity made my positive energy deplete.

"I guess it's just us, Tyler." I said.

"Okay, cool." Tyler said.

"Can we watch A Dog's Purpose?" Estela begged. "I've been dying to watch it."

"What do you think, Charlie?" Tyler said.

"Uhh... sure. Sounds fun." I nodded. "Tickets are on me."

I start my car and proceed to drive our way to The Crestmont.

"So what happened with Alex?" Tyler asked.

"He's..." I paused. "I don't... I don't think he loves me anymore."

"What?" Tyler gasped. "Why would you think that?"

"Ever since I got him that puppy, we haven't been talking as much as we used to." I grumbled. "Alex told me he had been studying non-stop but turns out he's been spending way too much time with that golden retriever. It's like Max is his second husband. Like, hello? I'm your boyfriend not him, you should be paying attention to me!"

"Um... I think you're being way overdramatic." Tyler pointed out.

"Am not!" I yelled. "Ty, you're not helping."

"Wasn't the reason you gave him Max in the first place was because you wanted to show how much you loved him?" Tyler mentioned.

"Well... yeah." I said as I calmed down my voice.

Maybe Tyler was right. I could be overreacting. But ever since I heard about Alex kissing Zach that one time long before we officially dated, I had gotten more worried about how there could be other guys out there who would be brave enough to steal my precious Alex Standall away from me. Now I'm literally competing with an animal. A human golden retriever V.S. an actual golden retriever. Never have I ever thought I'd end up in this kind of situation.

"Look, before you know it, Alex will come crawling right back to you." Tyler said.

"Yeah, right." I sighed.

THE NEXT DAY

The next day I attempted to call and text Alex again, but with no surprise, no answer. Good thing I have him on Snapchat to see what he's actually doing when I'm not around. I open his snapchat story to see a video of him teaching Max how to catch a frisbee. Knowing exactly where he's at, I decide to take a trip to the park to have a nice, little chat with my nerdy liar of a boyfriend and his adorable, yet deceiving minion.

"Charlie, hey!" Alex waved while holding Max with a leash.

"Alex. Didn't expect to see you and... him here." I said as my eyes shifted to Max. "How were you finals?"

"Stressful, but I made B's on my english, psychology, and history finals and got a C+ on my algebra exam." Alex grinned.

"Right..." I said longingly.

"Wait why did you say that so long?" Alex said suspiciously. "You okay, babe?"

"Oh now you call me babe." I gagged. "Funny since you've been so busy with your other one."

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Alex asked. "What's up with you?"

I tried my best to avoid answering the question but the more I looked at Max being beside Alex, the more I wanted to let all my frustrations out.

"Charles Hayden Brixton Saint George, answer me." Alex commanded.

Whenever Alex says my full name, I automatically know that he's in a bad mood.

"Because you’ve been spending way too much time with Max." I finally confessed.

Alex puts his hands on his hips in a sassy manner.

"That’s why you’ve been so grouchy?" Alex said. "Because you were jealous of the dog that YOU gave me?"

"Well…" I shrugged.

Just when I thought Alex was going to put me in my place, he laughs tremendously and playfully pushes my shoulder.

"You can be such a drama queen, you know that?" Alex laughed.

"So you love me again?" I teased.

"Always have, always will, you dork." Alex chuckled.

Alex presses his palms over my cheeks and I finally get to kiss his sweet lips again after what felt like a whole lifetime. Then Max runs towards me and lands his paws on my ankles.

"Oh hey, my little one!" I said, picking Max up.

"Don't you have something to say to Max?" Alex said.

"Alright, I'm sorry for my unnecessary behavior." I murmured. "And for thinking you stole Alex from me. You can't understand a word I'm saying anyway."

Max stares at me with those mesmerizing puppy dog eyes, but after a while he begins licking my face very menacingly.

"I guess he forgives you." Alex smiled.

Right after making up, the three of us run towards the open grass, letting Max take the lead. Alex hands me a frisbee and I proceed to throw it towards as hard as I could. Max starts running in its direction while Alex and I follow him. The two of us cheer our golden retriever on as he successfully catches the frisbee. We continue to play and chase each other around in circles until all of our energy got drained. Me and my beloved honey bear were left smiling happily on the green grass, with Max laying down comfortably between us. Despite having second thoughts about bringing that puppy into our lives, it turns out that Max brought me and Alex much closer than ever. I guess having not one, but two golden retrievers in the life of Alex Standall was not such a bad thing after all.

#13 reasons why #13rw #chalex #alex standall #charlie st. george #alex x charlie #charlie st george #13 reasons why fanfiction

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vortexdectectivekitten · 3 years

Text

Aliens discover what remains

While in hyperspace, Xag and his crewmate Haz’lin pick up what seems to be scattered meteoroid field. Almost passing it by a chunk flew by, the scanner scanned it and read: “Planet fragments.”

“Planet? In this system planets shouldn’t be blowing up or exploding in this manner for billions of years!” Xag exclaimed and scanned the field. “There has to be something identifying the planet!”

“Planet scan... Successful. Planet type: Fauna and Flora. Time of Death, 1000 years.”

“Scan for... anything abnormal!” Xag set all sensors to max, trying to learn what happened. He knew what he was looking at, he had hoped to learn about the long gone species and planet. To pay tribute to the fallen.

“You wont find any life. If that’s what you want.”

“Not at all.”

“Scan successful: multiple metal objects with seals. Would you like to activate the tractor beam?” The monotone voice went silent in wait.

Both crewmates stopped, they imagined what could be in the objects. They wondered what species was there.

“Bring them in.” In a few short seconds, 6 different satellites were brought aboard, each in a different language. “Activate translator.” The hologram projected the words into readable language. The first satellite had what seemed to be a primitive flip computer and a solar charged system. Once set up they fond a video with the contents of

> We’re sorry. > Things to know > What our youth wanted you to know.

“Start with the first and go down.” Haz’lin clicked the option and a video containing 5 people in white coats

“If you see this, we are long gone. It wasnt supposed to happen this way, we were given life and instead chose death. If you see this, please learn from us. Learn to resolve problems not with violence but with words. Don’t become consumed with greed, please recognize that even though you advanced doesnt mean you were meant to.” He took a deep breath in at look at something behind the film device, his breathing became ragged and he remained quiet. A female spoke next.

“We’re sorry we couldn’t meet you. I bet you’re really nice, actually. Hey, if we do manage to survive, I’d like to take you to a bakery I really like, its got muffins and coffee and.. and..-” She started to fall silent as well.

“We made this to say, you have one chance. You don’t get another. That includes planets.” He fell silent and the group hugged each other. They looked at the thing off film and closed their eyes.

“Goodby-” The video ends.

“From what it looks like it was streamed to the satellite and encased to ensure it survived.”

“Yea, yea that makes sense.”

“Pull the next one.” Xag inched closer to the screen. The next file pulled up but this time with a new group of people, different colors and they looked to be from different regions.

“We were a species of curiosity. We have- had, a saying here, “curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. We were never satisfied, only hungry. It turned from curiosity to greed and power hunger. But we werent all bad, that why we made this. We created inventions that were straight up dumb! Simply for fun! We made software and a frisbee! We made a world that was once full of life and joy!” She laughed with tears, “we hope to be remembered not as a war species but as one that created and inspired.” The female sat down and a male stood.

“Allow me to introduce everyone here. Allow me to introduce the last introduction. I am Mathias Jones, I like legos and my favorite animal was the Narwhale, really a freak of nature.” He laughed, “this next to me is Daria Kidson, she's my best friend, her favorite color is yellow like dandelions. That one down there in the red is Alonso Cazalla, he really enjoys games and has an obsession with cats.” The whole group laughed, “and the last one is Jin Wen. She loves the smell of the ocean and dreamed of producing music with her brother Sun.”

“We want you to know that even dead we support exploration and peace. We support the movements that signify justice. We support you. We hope you explore to the very edge of the universe, we hope you find space whales, we hope you find you dreams. We hope you advance in a different way than us.” The one called Alonso smiled at the camera. “We wish you luck, travelers.”

The video ended.

The next one had a few files, the first file being a file named “Minecraft”, upon loading it up, fantastic builds and texts from people unknown. A spire from a ravine, a statue of a creature of green, texts that seemed to be signifying who builds belonged to.

“FistofFury was here”

“JelloMan built this, no touchy”

Creations of what someone had envisioned, and now they get to see inside. Large worlds each with different things. The creativity extended the simulations horizons.

The next files were that of music and art. They showed songs of peace but also of violence, resulting in a melodic tune but sinister lyrics. It showed their expression. The files continued with pictures sent in from everywhere. Some consisted of people while others consisted of locations.

“Close it. I’ll look at the rest later.” Xag walked away with his own tears. Watching a very old planet hurdle aimlessly into the depths of space.

“Continue original course.” Haz’lin spoke for Xag, wanting to leave and let the race sleep in peace.

#Aliens #Earth #Humans #when were gone #story

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the-quiet-winds · 5 years

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I Don’t Want to Sit on the Pavement While You Fly, But I Will

guys i’m baaaaaaaaaaack from my trip. i’ll be getting to the asks in my inbox in a little bit, and i promise that i will give you all the juicy details from the show later today.

in the meantime, enjoy a cowritten oneshot by @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts and i!

of all the things jane had to get used to about the 21st century, one of the strangest had to be the concept of ultimate frisbee. first, the fact that tossing a plastic disk back and forth could be considered a sport, then that boleyn would for some reason become obsessed with the concept and drag all the other queens out to the park to play it with her. jane herself excuses herself from the game after about twenty minutes; it personally wasn’t her thing, although the others seem to be enjoying it a lot. aragon seems to be making it her goal to utterly obliterate everybody else, while cleves kept cheating as boleyn yells about it. by the time jane reaches the bench and takes a seat, cleves and katherine have apparently formed a team, with cleves giving katherine a piggyback ride as katherine chucks the frisbee far over boleyn’s head. jane laughs to herself as she watches the chaos, barely noticing as a woman sits down next to her, parking a pram by the bench. she shoots jane an apologetic look as the baby in the pram starts to grizzle, and jane smiles politely back. the woman searches for something in the pockets of the pram, finally finding a small stuffed giraffe toy and letting the baby hold it. jane looks over at the baby and her heart practically melts.

“oh, your baby is adorable,” she comments.

“oh, uh, thanks,” the woman says, somewhat uncomfortably, not looking at jane.

after a long and uncomfortable silence, the woman speaks again. “you a mum?”

jane smiles brightly. “that one’s mine,” she says, pointing to where katherine and cleves were celebrating a point, with boleyn stewing nearby.

the woman looks confusedly between jane and kat. “you seem a bit...young...to have a kid that old,” she answers back.

jane blushes slightly. “oh, i’ve adopted her. quite recently, actually,” jane adds on, a fond smile blooming as she remembers that day just a couple months ago when katherine, half asleep, called her mum.

the woman, however, presses her lips into a fine line and makes a slightly dissatisfied hum, before turning back to her baby.

a wave of defensiveness runs through jane, and despite her mostly non-confrontational nature she can’t stop herself from turning to the woman and asking, her her very politest voice, “I’m sorry, is there something the matter?”

the woman doesn’t turn to her, giving a half shrug as she keeps fussing over the baby. “well, you know.”

“i’m actually afraid I don’t,” jane says, voice almost dangerously pleasant.

the woman sighs, half contemplating dropping the topic. but something deep in her drives her to continue. so she does.

“you know...” she drops her voice ever so slightly, “adopted mums aren’t really...” she trails off. at jane’s confused and near murderous gaze, she almost doesn’t continue. “real mums.”

jane’s blood runs cold. “i’m sorry?” she asks, as if there was any way she could have mistaken what the woman said.

“well, you know,” the woman doubles down, “and in cases like yours where the child is older, well, you’ve missed so much of their life. you’re not really a parent.” she seems to realise how much her words weren’t helping explain her case, but the woman doesn’t let up. “you understand what i mean, right?”

jane grinds her teeth together. “i’m afraid i don’t, ma’am,” she forces out in the most polite voice through a clenched jaw.

“you’re not really her mum. you didn’t get to experience that amazing moment of holding your child after having them, or seeing their first steps or hearing her first word...you just missed a lot.” the woman shrugs. “maybe you’re just more of a best friend to a ‘mum’, that’s all.”

jane can’t stand to hear a single word more. she stands up suddenly, and the woman looks at her.

“i didn’t mean to offend,” she begins, but jane doesn’t stick around to listen to whatever she has to say. she storms back to the group, angry tears welling in her eyes. katherine’s eyes light up as she sees jane approaching.

“mum! me and cleves are winning but boleyn’s being a sore loser and-” she catches sight of jane’s expression and her face falls. “are you okay, mum?”

jane wipes the tears from her eyes and offers Katherine a watery smile. “i’m okay, love. just somebody saying some nasty things, is all. nothing you need to worry about.”

katherine wants to ask what the person said, just so she can go beat the living daylights out of them for daring to insult her mum. but she can see that, whatever it was, really hurt her mum.

“okay,” she murmurs. katherine leans in and gives jane a half-hug. “love you mum.”

katherine didn’t see the slight wince in jane’s eyes at the last word.

as much as jane tries to enjoy the rest of the day out, she can’t stop thinking about what the woman had said. first steps, first words, they had all been something she had looked forward to when she had edward, but she hadn’t even considered that missing katherine’s would make her any less of a mother. were her and katherine just fooling themselves? would they never truly be mother and daughter, even after the adoption?

katherine can’t help but notice something is wrong with jane through the rest of the day and that evening.

that night, remember something that worked before, she tiptoes into jane’s room, a blanket around her shoulders and a book clenched in her hand.

“hey,” she says quietly, perching on the side of the bed. “can we read together mum?”

jane offers her a small smile. "of course, sweetheart. the word 'mum' still sends a pang through her, but she still shuffles over on her bed and pats the space next to her. katherine climbs onto the bed and drapes the blanket over both of them. she hands the book to jane before curling up against her. jane glances down at the book; katherine had brought in Jane Eyre, one of jane's favourites.

jane cracks the book to the bookmark and begins to read aloud. she feels katherine begin to relax against her, before she lets out a tiny, adorable, contented sigh as she falls asleep. jane habitually kisses the top of the girl’s head. a wave of sadness pulses through her when she remembers the woman’s words. she gently extracts herself from katherine’s grip, the girl groans as she wakes up.

“mum?” she asks groggily.

jane doesn’t answer, the melancholy racking her mind. katherine blinks sleepily and rubs her eyes.

“mum, what’s the matter?” she persists. even half asleep, she can tell something is wrong and she shuffled around to face her mother.

jane still doesn’t answer, eyes fixed on her lap and fingers fiddling ceaselessly.

“mum, please,” katherine whispers, gently shaking jane’s arm. “you’re scaring me. what’s going on?”

jane takes a shaky breath, before turning suddenly to face katherine.

“kat... do you ever think that maybe... we’ve been lying to ourselves?”

“what?” katherine frowns. “mum, i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

mum. it was that word again, the word that threw jane’s brain into turmoil. the joy she normally felt when called that was being suppressed by a horrible bitterness, and jane just wanted it to stop.

“i’ll never be your mum!” she finally bursts out, tears welling behind her eyes. “i missed so much of your life.” she buries her face in her hands. “how could i ever think i could be your mum?”

katherine was at a genuine loss for words. her brain couldn’t understand what could have possibly brought this on, not when katherine had been so sure that everything was finally going right for the both of them. all she can manage is to stammer for a second, before blurting out, “what? of- of course you’re my mum!” her voice grows slightly frantic. “you aren’t saying you don’t want to be my mum anymore, are you?”

“i never was your mum!” jane cries. “all i could do was hope and wish that i was your mother but i only met you a year ago.” her voice drops significantly. “how could i ever wish to be a mum to someone as perfect as you?”

“but you do it every day!” katherine can’t stop herself from saying. “every single day, when you make me breakfast and make sure I slept okay and kiss my forehead, or when we go somewhere and you always check i’m alright, or before shows when you reassure me and tell me you love me no matter what.” her voice drops slightly as a sudden wave of emotion hits her. “that sounds like you’re my mum to me.”

jane sniffles and leans her head on katherine’s shoulder. “but before we met...”

“i was miserable, mum,” katherine admits. “before that night at your house, i wasn’t sure how i’d get by.”

“don’t,” jane says quietly, but katherine shakes her head.

“it’s the truth, mum! i was so scared, and lonely.” her voice cracks slightly. “i really didn’t know how i was going to make it through rehearsals, even. you remember how i was, right? i barely ate, i couldn’t sleep most nights, i hardly even spoke to anyone. but then- then you came along, and everything changed.”

jane is silent for a moment. “we became friends, katherine. friends. very, very close friends.” she hangs her head in shape. “i don’t know why i thought we could ever be anything more.”

“mum-“

“stop calling me that!” jane finally yells, voice cracking in despair. “it hurts too much,” she adds, very quietly.

“no,” katherine says, and a strange determined anger filters through her voice. “no, i’m not gonna let you do this. you’re not gonna rip apart the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“but-” jane begins. katherine interrupts her.

“i don’t care that we’ve only known each other for a year. i don’t care that you didn’t know me when i was little. all that matters is that you’re here right now. i’m not going to let you tell me that everything we have, everything we’ve built, is fake. i won’t let you.”

jane is silent for a long time, stone still. her heart aches at the passion in katherine’s words, the pain, all of it swirled into some sort of heavy love.

“kat...” she finally mumbles, turning to face her fully. “i just....i don’t...” she sighs deeply. “there was a woman in the park today,” she admits in a small voice, “who said that i couldn’t be your mother because you were too old, i hadn’t been around long enough...” she lowers her voice more, if that was even possible, “i thought she was right.”

katherine doesn’t speak for a moment, before shifting closer to jane. “that woman doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” she looks into jane’s eyes, honesty and love radiating from her gaze. “you don’t suddenly stop needing a mum once you hit eighteen. and so what if we’ve only known each other a year? that doesn’t make you any less of a mum, and besides, we’ve got the rest of our lives together as well. this life, or any other.” she takes jane’s hands in hers and gives her a soft smile.

“in this life or any other,” jane repeats quietly, unsurely. she leans back against the pillows and rubs her eyes. “i’m sorry kat, i shouldn’t have pushed you away.” she looks back to her daughter. “i don’t care if someone else thinks it’s not real. it’s real. in this life or any other.”

katherine shifts closer again, and jane gets the hint and opens her arms. katherine lets out a tiny happy sound and leans against her, resting her head on jane’s shoulder.

“you’ll always be my mum,” she says quietly. “no matter what anyone else says. besides,” she nudges jane playfully, “you signed all the paperwork. you can’t take it back now.”

“and i never will, kitty-kat,” jane presses a kiss to the top of her head.

———————————————————————————————————–

tag list: @percabeth15 @kats-seymour @qualquercoisa945 @jane-fucking-seymour @a-slightly-cracked-egg @justqueentingz @annabanana2401 @wolfies-chew-toy @broad-way-13 @tvandmusicals @lailaliquorice @aimieallenatkinson @sweet-child-why03 @gaylinda-of-the-upper-uplands @funky-lesbians@thinkaboutitmaybe @hansholbeingoesaroundzeworld @anaamess @beeskneeshuh @prick-up-ur-ears @theartoflazy @justqueentwo @brother-orion @paleshadowofadragon @lafemmestars @beautifulashes17 @jarneiarichardnxel @idkimbadwithusernamesandstuff @sixcago @mixer1323 @boleynssixthfinger @aimieallen @elphiesdance @boleynthebunny @krystalhuntress @lupin-loves-chocolate @bellacardoza16 @bluify

#six the musical #six musical #katherine howard #jane seymour #julie and jess write #i don't want to sit on the pavement while you fly but i will

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faithinlouisfuture · 2 years

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Multitasking like a boss 🚬🥤🥏 (x)

#as the frisbee obsession continues #ltwt22: Milan #ltwt22 #my ltwt22 content #louis tomlinson gifs #I made this #mindofwalls #louisprojectstracks #dailytomlinson #louisupdates #lfltracks #look at this little menace #must smoke drink and play frisbee all at once #monster that I’m in love with

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prorevenge · 5 years

Text

Entitled Kid bullies me and friends of mine for 5 years, and we finally get him back

So, for background. I'm about 15 years old, decent height, and very, very skinny(at that time I was skinny and 13). My friend was at that time decent in height and def. heavier than me, but no more than 30-40 pounds. We had both started school together, and remained in that same school for the entire time. However, this more or less changed when we entered 3rd grade. Enter the EK(who I will not name out of tact). This kid was a piece of work. He had some sort of attention disorder(I think ADHD) and was extremely obsessive. The first words out of his mouth to me were: Give me your pencil! No I am not joking. This little s*** operated in one way, and one way only.

You either did what he wanted, or he cried like a baby till you did.

No I am not joking, at all. This was the kid that you would hate instantly. He demanded that you did whatever the f*** he wanted. If you did not, he cries to the teachers, and they always, always took his side. On top of that, he was a sociopath who found it funny to hurt people, then blame it on others besides himself. We endured this for 5 years. Then, we snapped. This was because the little s*** decided to force another one of my friends, Who will go unnamed, to be his friend. He already was, sort of, but this meant that my friend could only do stuff with EK, and nothing else.

This, is where the fun begins(The Revenge, obviously)

From here on out, this is what these letters mean

OP: me

JF: Friend 1

IF: Friend 2

CF: Friend 3:

EM: Entitled mother

PR: Principal

Our groups whole objective was to let the teachers see what EK would do to those who refused, while the teachers were there(This was at a middleschool, with a no BS policy to bullying, when it was seen anyway). JF was the ringleader of this whole thing, who came up with ways to set up situations to make him tic. CF did the same, but he would try and "lead" EK to zones to try and do his thing. IF was our inside man, who would let us know if anything we did was even sort of working. And I, was what they called: "the blackmailer". No, I did not do actual blackmail, that's illegal. What I really did was handle the technical side of the group, any sort of tech, such as cameras, evidence, stuff like that, was under me. EK continued to throw a whiny fit, but we caught most of his outbursts and got pictures or audio files of said outbursts. We brought them to the Principal, but no real action was taken. We needed the teachers to see it.

Then, a miracle happened.

A group of friends were throwing around a Frisbee with each other. The main guy, now known as WM, was the ringleader of this little group.

EK then walks over to the group and demands to "play" with them. After some arguing, EK then gets WM in a headlock, and wrestles him to the ground. I and the other friends in the group managed to get EK off of WM, and then we look to the school

At the top of the hill, is PR, and EM.

The following Convo. goes like this:EM: YOU LITTLE CRETINS, GET OFF OF MY SON

Me: Uh, maam, your son decided to get our friend in a headlock

EM: I DON'T CARE, I AM ON THE BOARD FOR THE SCHOOL AND AM GETTING ALL OF YOU EXPELLED.

We did not give a single S***, because unbeknownst to her, the Principal had seen the whole thing. We waited for 2 weeks, and never saw EK in class, we did see his parents and hear them arguing a lot with other people. I wait for 2 more days, and then, our labors bore fruit.

EK, had been expelled.

It took all of our energy not to scream in joy, despite going a bit far. I am happy to say that since then, all has been calm for everyone in the school.

Moral of the story: Do not screw with me or my friends. You will regret it.

(source) story by (/u/hostilecode)

#prorevenge #by /u/hostilecode #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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cadday · 4 years

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Collateral Damage - Chapter 6

It’s just about around a week later when he thinks about that conversation with Ansem again. He and Lea are sparring, which is a nice way to say he’s throwing random shit at the kid while the kid tries to use freaking frisbees like a weapon. Bizarre brat needs a better weapon, those plastic nuisances couldn’t protect him from shit. Shouldn’t need protection if Radiant Garden doesn’t fall, won’t fall, can’t…

Braig chucks another stick at the kid, mainly because he’s running out of ammo having exhausted the bouncy balls he commandeered from Ienzo earlier. Which were going to be a pain to pick up but maybe he could push that up on the hot head who just got nailed in the head with said stick he tossed.

Eventually they had petered out into sitting and throwing those bouncy balls back and forth while they took a break for lunch.

“So why is someone trying to kill you? I mean I get you’re an ass but like it’s only half the time.” Braig jumped a bit startled, not expecting the question.

“I’m sorry who’s trying to do what?” He looked at Lea like he had two heads. There was no way the kid had just asked him that.

“The guy who's trying to kill you. It’s why everyone’s weird about things right, and what happened to you, you know. I figure he’s gotta be still around right?” Lea shrugs like this was a completely normal conversation to be having after training for the past hour.

“...why do you figure that?”

“Because everyone is paranoid if you run off for like any amount of time. I heard Master Ansem talking to Dilan about how he thinks someone’s trying to off you or something but you like don’t want to tell them or worry them or something.” Lea looks nervous and he realizes he should probably get on his case about spying, but Lea, Axel, Lea was always so very good at deception and snooping, honestly it could come in handy if the kid had practice, doesn’t matter he’s never going to be in a situation to use.

Braig stares at him before looking down to the ball in his hand. He bounces it off the wall closest to him and catches it. He thinks about how to respond and tries for something close to the truth. Lea isn’t asking him this completely off the cuff, he’s pretty sure Master Ansem has been hinting at them to try to get him to talk and he isn’t sure he blames him. He hasn’t been forthcoming with information but if Lea goes and reports this well that might be better. It means he avoids the other’s trying to get him to explain more and Lea doesn’t seem like he is going to push for more.

“I don’t think he’s still around...He could come back though and sometimes I go to check to be sure he hasn’t.” Lea does look startled. He realises that the kid probably was expecting him to either lie or tell him that everyone was just fussy old worry warts.

“So someone is trying to kill you! Dude that’s fu…” Braig waved a hand at the kid to get him to stop talking.

“Watch your mouth kid, lord knows Even is going to give me an earful if he hears you cursing. He about took my head off for that time Ienzo said the F bomb after an experiment backfired.”

“Oh my god, I would pay to hear Ienzo cuss.” To be honest he thought it was pretty hilarious too but technically it wasn’t appropriate for a kid his age to say things like that. If you're old enough to lose your heart, you're old enough to...

“Anyway the guy wasn’t necessarily trying to kill me, it’s complicated. But let’s go with this, if you see some guy with white hair and yellow eyes you book it out of there, just in case…” Lea seems to consider this so seriously that Braig is shocked the kid is capable of it. But then again he’s been accused plenty of times of never taking anything seriously.

“...okay.” Lea nods like it’s some sort of promise, and Braig kinda hopes that if it comes to it the kid takes it to heart and is gone before any crap hits the fan again. Can’t be again if it never happened to begin with.

The bouncy ball he chucks at Lea nails him in the forehead and Braig literally falls over laughing.

Later Braig convinces Lea to help him clean up the training room, because he was using the balls just as much technically and really hadn’t Braig technically been helping the kid out or something.

The kid disappears to probably go find Isa, and stare at him when he thinks Isa can’t see like he’s made of moonlight or some poetic shit. Braig returns the balls to Ienzo who when asked why he had so many anyway was just told cryptidly that they were for ‘science’. While that was ominous he decided the best choice was not to pry or risk that ‘science’ be directed at him in some way.

Braig ends up outside when evening is getting close, partially because he was feeling restless but also he did obsessively check the place Terra had shown up, hadn’t shown up. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he did appear. He couldn’t just leave him, last time the guy had amnesia, maybe he could convince him he was more Terra then Xehanort, not like there was a keybearer around to…

Red hair girl has. will have, had a keyblade. He stops in the square and just isn’t sure what to do with that thought. The girl was like Ienzo’s age, maybe younger, he couldn’t imagine her fighting much of anything seriously. He has a hard time taking Lea seriously as it is. Terra hadn’t shown up though and might not ever, but something in him, his heart maybe, was telling him that for all things changed for him that Terra, Aqua, and Ventus were not likely as lucky. The girl needed someone to train her though at the very least and if Aqua was gone then she didn’t really have any options. None of the apprentices besides him really had any information about the keyblades and what was to come. There was that mouse king but he wasn’t sure where he even was and how to contact him, or if he would believe him to begin with. Keyblades drew heartless to them and that put the girl and radiant garden in danger. There was no other keyblade wielders running about during this time though…

‘i could.’ Oh right, other heart. And wait what did she mean that she could?

‘teach the girl to use the keyblade.’ Really that was, well not the craziest option all things considered but their in itself lay a serious issue one that had him uncomfortable at the thought.

‘no, you would stay in control. i am not strong enough anyway, but i can teach you to then teach her.’ That was an option but would that even work.

‘it will have too.’ Braig nodded and then realized that he was nodding to himself in the middle of the square probably looking like a crazy person. He quickly continued on to check for Terra but already was certain that he would find nothing. If more heartless appeared he would see to that girl learning the keyblade. Who knew really if it would ever even come to that?

It’s late when he gets back and he tries to ignore the way all the shadows look like they're creeping closer to him the longer he is out. If he all but runs inside the entrance to the castle well everyone should just be thankful he didn’t slam the damn door. Braig tries not to berate himself for being paranoid as he heads to his room. In the hall outside his room is Dilan, which I mean it’s kinda late so that’s surprising, he thought and kinda hoped they would all be asleep. Dilan raises an eyebrow but doesn’t ask where he was which is kinda a blessing because he didn’t have the time to think up a lie or even an explanation that wouldn’t sound just as much like a lie.

“Hey, what’s up? Missing out on beauty sleep lurking outside my room you know.” Dilan huffs but it’s more a laugh and Braig grins at little victories.

“I found it.” Braig looks at Dilan super confused because he wasn’t aware anything was missing until he’s holding out a red fabric something and it occurs to him that everyone had said he wasn’t wearing something. Carefully he takes it from Dilan’s hand and isn’t sure why he’s being so careful. He can’t even remember what was important about it.

“One of those things, the little monsters that have been around had it. Don’t know why.” Braig nods stiffly and okay that’s weird he guesses but he isn’t sure what to even say to that so yeah just nodding works.

“Thanks.” Is what he ends up kinda croaking out in a response and Dilan nods slowly but doesn’t really go anywhere. Braig just stares at the fabric in his hand and thinks he remembers it hadn’t always been his, there had been someone else who wore it first, someone important and he realizes suddenly that there's a lot he can’t seem to remember. Because Braig can’t recall how he ended up Ansem the Wise’s apprentice, or what his parents' names and faces were, he can’t remember why this piece of fabric is so important, and all of this has him leaning against his door as he tries to calm down. It occurs to him that either he must have known these things at some point, and his heart and the other heart both agree that somethings wrong. So it’s easy to come to the conclusion that this was freaking Luxu’s fault again. Braig is missing parts of himself, memories of things and he might not be able to ever get them back and he would be pissed if he could actually breathe right.

When he finally calms down somewhat he is aware that Dilan is not only still there but sitting next to him with his arm slung over his shoulder in some sort of side hug thing. He thinks that this is embarrassing for a second then decides he does not give a damn and leans more into his friends side.

“It was not my intention to send you into hysterics.”

“Not your fault dude. Kinda my new normal isn’t it?” He tries to laugh but it sounds so fake even he’s cringing.

“Whatever happens you know I’m not, we all aren’t going anywhere. You're stuck with us I’m afraid.” Braig can’t look at him. That was well rough, because they might not ever go anywhere but Braig had. He had been forced to leave them, and he wondered if they had hated him for it, they had to, for abandoning them, betraying them, lying to them. But he hadn’t done that. It hadn’t happened and wouldn’t happen and they would never know. Except he does. He still remembers and it freaking hurts all the time.

“Dude, feeling particularly sappy today. If anyone’s stuck with anyone it’s more like ya’ll are stuck with me. I’m like glitter, you ain't ever getting rid of me.” Braig is still leaning on his shoulder and neither of them move for a while. When they finally go to bed Braig is still gripping the fabric that had been returned to him and he falls asleep holding it to his chest.

#kingdom heart #kairi #braig #luxu #luxu is a dick #dilan #ansem the wise #aeleus #ienzo #even #isa #lea #au #fix it #ptsd #fanfic

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