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#silver's fast car waffle
screamsinsilver · 2 years
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QUADRANT OFF ROAD DROPPING AUGUST 3RD
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stellariumcircus · 2 years
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it's not my fault you don't like el pt1 [mike centric byler one-shot fic]
part two | part three | mike gets vecna'd and music doesn't save him
“Will? El?” Mike called down the hall, taking slow, mincing steps forward.
They had been here just a moment ago. And Jonathan should be back soon, too, from his drive around the block with Argyle.
It was quiet now. Quiet wasn't the right word - this wasn't on the spectrum of sound, it was the opposite of it. There was no hum of appliances, muffled television, cars rolling outside. Even the walls of the house held their breath and Mike followed suit.
When Mike stepped out of the shadow of the hallway, he wasn’t in California anymore.
It was the Wheelers’ living room, a flight and a world away, all the way back in Hawkins. And in the adjoining kitchen was her. He would know her anywhere, even from the back of her head.
El. Eleven. Jane.
But something had changed about her. She was doing dishes quietly, foaming up the sink, while the stove simmered beside her. She had grown a bit taller, and much older. Silver strands like spun moonlight twined through her brown hair.
There were the silhouettes of children gathered around the dining table, empty plates in front of them while they waited for El to fill them up. 
This was it, their future. His superman, become supergirl, become supermom. She could toast waffles at the speed of light. No one could pack a school lunch as fast as her. Slinging backpacks and babies and dirty socks.
Mike couldn't help but feel he’d stolen her spark. Like he'd whittled her down to nothing.
“El?” He called again, but she didn’t answer him.
His feet moved on their own, legs clad in cloth rather than denim, on a predetermined route. He walked across recently cleaned carpet, still mapped with vacuum lines like paths, to his chair:
The La-Z Boy.
The chair was shrouded in shadow and overgrown, and Mike didn’t want to be king of this throne. But that’s where he belonged, isn’t it? A wife at the stove. A tie at his neck. Time to grow up.
It didn’t really matter whether Mike wanted it or not. He sat, sinking into foam, leather sticking like sweat to his skin. The tie around his neck tightened, a collar to finally choke him.
In the kitchen, El didn’t notice Mike begin to cough.
“El,” he croaked. The tie bit into his jugular. Maybe this was it. This was how he went, in a La-Z Boy, with the shadow of El and three indistinct kids he didn’t know beyond their apparent blood relation. 
El finally looked at him, spatula in hand. “What’s the matter, Mike?” She asked. And though her face had changed, worried lines cut into her forehead and beside her mouth, her voice was still the same. Soft and lovely and soothing. 
Or it should’ve been all those things. He should be soothed. But Mike’s heart beat harder, harder. The leather suctioned to his skin. The tie tightened.
“Isn’t this what you want?” She pleaded, in a voice kept innocent through all the apparent years. She took a step forward, and another, until she crossed the threshold to the living room. “Me?”
He got the words out, if only barely. He’d choke them out with his last breath if it came to it. “Of course I want you, El. You’re being, being crazy.”
El knelt in front of him. Her voice roughened. “Why do you lie?” 
She said all the words like they were separate sentences. 
Why. Do. You. Lie. 
He looked up into her face for something that made sense. El was the wayward one, the one who followed were Mike led. “That’s crazy, El. Friends don’t lie.”
She leaned over him. She didn’t smell like El - butter and baking and sweet body spray. The air was damp soil, rotting leaves, decaying wood. “Do boyfriends?” She asked, her face so close they could kiss. The idea has never been so repulsive.
The idea isn’t repulsive at all.
Why. Do. You. Lie. 
Her breath was sweet as fermenting fruit. Mike leaned away but found only the flytrap leather at his spine. 
“You can’t even admit it to yourself.”
When he looked up, it was no longer into El’s face. It almost wasn’t a face at all. It was a tangle of fleshy roots, of bone, of eye sockets. 
There was nothing to admit. This was what he really wanted. A house in the suburbs. 2.5 kids. A dog. El.
The chair suctioned to him, the leather-sticky graduating to strings of goo that hung like party streamers when he managed to yank his arms free. 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, this is stupid, this is bullshit, this is-“ He coughed, one freed hand going to his throat as the tie cinched. Getting the tips of his fingers under the tie didn’t stop the choking. It only tightened the vice. His vision blackened and vignetted, framing the subject in front of him.
He had never seen Vecna in the flesh before now. This wasn’t a faceless bad guy silhouette, or the little plastic figurine in a D&D campaign. This was terror. This was dread. This was facing himself in the mirror every night after brushing his teeth.
“If this is really what you want,” the voice lowered, lowered, “Why do you fight it?” 
He yanked at his legs, whispering shit shit shit as he tried to rip himself free of the La-Z Boy. 
He thought of himself with a heart-embellished shield. Mike was a three inch tall soldier, a figure cut in acrylic, with a heart on his shield. He could be that, if he only tried.
Mike fought because he was a fighter. He just fought in quiet ways, sometimes. He fought by picking flowers. He fought by keeping his eyes down in the hallways of Hawkins High. He fought by jumping off cliffs, biking in the rain until his calves sear, by recording mixtapes. 
“Give in, Michael.” 
“Fuck that, fuck that, fuck that,” he bit between his teeth like a bullet. The La-Z Boy rocked with the attempts to pull his legs free. It would hurt, but it was a way out.
He pitched his weight backwards, and launched into freefall. The chair slammed to the ground, left his ears ringing and head pounding. But he had what he needed, to be free.
His legs were unstuck from the leather, the tie loosened, and Vecna was feet away from him. Mike was on his feet and he did what he was best at: 
running,
bursting down the hall, acid on his tongue, Vecna on his heels.
Halfway down the hallway, Mike ran into the only barrier he’d never felt held back by; Will. He crashed into his chest, just barely righting himself from taking them both down.
“Will. Will. Jesus, Will, we have to go-“ He clawed at Will’s sleeve, dragged him down the hall. To where? A bedroom?  They could climb out the window, there. Anywhere but here. “Where’s El?”
Will was the smart one. Will the Wise. The one who always knew what they should do next. So he must have had some reason to stop them at the end of the hall instead of fleeing towards any opening out of this place.
“Will,” he asked, voice shaken by something other than how he’d just been choking. “What is it?”
“Why does it always have to be about El, Mike?”
“What?” Mike echoed. This was insane. They were going to die, and this was what they were talking about? “She’s my girlfriend, Mike. And we’re all going to die if we don’t get the hell out of here. Me, you, El, all of us! Together!”
“It’s not all of us, together, is it, though?” Will’s fingers wrapped around his wrist. Cold, ice cold, coma cold, Upside Down cold. “It’s always about you, and El. What about us?”
“What are you even-“ He looked back down the hall. The living room was black and gaping at the end of it. “We’re best friends, dude. We’re always gonna be friends. If we don’t die in the next five minutes we’re gonna be like, neighbors, for life, so can we please go?”
“Neighbors? Really, Mike?” His fingers tightened, tightened until the bones of his wrist groaned. “Do you think that’s normal? To just, be neighbors with your best friend and, what, sneak off from our wives to hang out together?”
“Wives? Will, come on. Whatever you’re going on about doesn’t matter right now. Can we please, please just go and you can be crazy later?”
“Crazy?” His grip tightened until it wasn’t just tight. It hurt, a groaning pain that ached to snap, to get it over with. “You’re the one who’s crazy. You think people won’t notice?”
Mike swallowed down the feeling in his throat like a pill, pulling on his wrist. Will was stronger than he looked, grown by months in the California sun. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 
His voice grew quiet. Mike had shouted it, all that time ago. But from Will, it was close to a whisper and louder for it: “It’s not my fault you don’t like El. That’s all you, isn’t it?”
The hand around his wrist wasn't Will’s anymore, and he raged against it. He yanked, twisted, pitched all his weight back.
But none of it mattered. Vecna had him now.
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whump-town · 1 year
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No Rescue Needed
Slight Rescue Needed
trying to flex my writing muscles to ease into the 50ish pages I've got to write for all my final papers and assignments, here's one of awful productions
word count: 3,000
Warnings: idk hotch gets napped, and beaten... but you know how he is, he's a tough old guy
Derek had only made the mistake once of assuming Hotch needed self-defense lessons. His boxing lesson had ended in the two of them bloody and sweaty, all-out brawling on the ring’s floor waiting for the other to call it. Gideon had come down to find them and he’d wordless called an end to their fighting. His disappointment was clear, even if he didn’t speak a word to either of them. Derek never doubted Hotch again. Under all those suits, Hotch was punky, he fought, and he didn’t play. 
Hotch wasn’t someone who needed to be watched, who needed protecting. 
Derek had always respected that but now he knew it. 
The unsub had killed six men over the last month, quickly with no cooling off. He kept each victim for three days. The first three had died being tortured but the last three had died exposed to the elements. No one was sure that the unsub was devolving – and Rossi refused to make a decision yet, leaving them to argue about it endlessly. It was the same methods so it was the same unsub, all six men subdued by sedatives and their legs broken before they were left in the carpets. The last three had died from hypothermia, blood loss had made it quick but painful. 
Tuesday morning the team met in the hotel’s breakfast bar, and take a moment to enjoy hot waffles. A small break before returning to the men’s partners and three children trying to understand where their father’s went. Dave brings Hotch oatmeal and a coffee to the station, it sits cold in the conference room for three days. 
Hotch was the most considerate to room with because he never sleeps, but when he does, it’s not restful. He tosses and turns, has nightmare after nightmare until one finally wakes him, and then he’s back up again. He’s got sleeping pills, all sorts, that pitch him back into solid black, nothing but hot, dead sleep. But he can’t sleep like that while on a case, that kind of sleep is for a Friday or Saturday night when there’s nothing to do and no one needs him. 
As they stand in his room, all they question why they hadn’t just seen this coming. His room is a mess. His go-bag overturned, his clothes scattered out on the ground. The coffee pot is shattered, coffee splattered out on the tile. There’s blood on the table, a considerable dent where something had made hard contact. Hotch hadn’t gone quietly, but he’s gone nonetheless. 
And they hadn’t noticed. 
Thursday come at unusual speed, each livable second passing at a fourth of it’s speed, and then each second gone having passed within the blink of an eye. Thursday night means tonights the night. 
The back road is deserted except for a single fat possum waiting in the underbrush growing up the sides of the dirt road. Silver eyes in the darkness that Derek sees in a flash as he keeps the car moving steadily along, as fast as Emily will let him travel as she hunts through the dark. It’s all murky black, the moon devoured as if by a caterpillar, the leaves blackening out chunks of its lights. It’s as desolate and unsettling as the rest of the town. 
The never-ending gravel roads, leading down winding paths through the woods were so dense they reached up and blocked the full moon’s light. With nothing but his high beams to guide him, Derek just tries to keep on his route. Emily’s phone had lost service nearly immediately and while they had a map, stopping to turn on the overhead light and attempting to figure out where they were just wasn’t worth the time. All the roads are connected, Reid had assured them as long as they keep on the main gravel road, they’ll find their way back. 
“Stop!”
Derek slams on the brakes and the car jerks on the gravel, tires crunching for purchase on the ground. He looks up and Derek just stares, the man in the headlights looks like something from a nightmare. Long limbs covered in blood, hair down in front of his eyes. Pale as a death. The sort of creature that crawls into focus on a nightmarish video on the internet, seemingly alive but impossible to conceive. 
“Hotch!” Emily runs out of the car, casting her shadow over him, blocking him from the severe light of the high beams and Derek sees. He’s been stripped down to his pants, barefoot. Derek’s too shocked to recognize the man in front of him but Emily doesn’t hesitate a second. 
She gets to him right as his body gives out and there’s nothing Emily can do as he falls back to the ground with a thud. His skin is cold, bare to the elements, and he’s covered in blood. Emily moves her hand over his skin, looking for the wound where the blood must be coming from. But she can’t find one. “Hotch!” she shakes his shoulders. “Hotch!” Emily presses down on his sternum, feeling his bones beneath her knuckles. 
 “Hotch, come on.” She puts her hand against his side, her palm over the curve of his ribs. His chest raises slightly with his slow breaths, and Emily can feel his heart beating. “He’s breathing, I don’t understand–” 
Derek moves slowly to them, not sure yet that he can believe what his eyes see. Emily begins to speak again, still frantically trying to rouse Hotch. Derek slaps him. It all happens too quickly, and Emily can’t stop it. Derek rubs his stinging palm, “come on, man, stop fucking around.” He’s going to go in for another when Hotch’s breathing picks up, his eyes flutter open. He groans a moment later and his eyes pinch shut tight as he grimaces. The breeze pushes through them again, the wind trying to blow them over, but Emily and Derek stay close, listening to Hotch’s pained breaths time the silence. When Hotch opens his eyes he squints at them, taking a long slow moment to place each of them and where they are. 
“Hotch?”
He lays back, again, licking his lips across his painfully dry lips, “afternoon.” 
Derek chuckles, deep and happy, “you tough son of a bitch.” He reaches down and hugs Hotch, pulling him up into a proper hug. “I knew you had it in you. I knew it.” And Hotch, boneless –  having no control of the majority of his body – sags into the warmth. He stifles a whimper of pain into Derek’s shoulder, pressing his cold skin into the middle warmth of Derek’s shirt and his jacket. The pain in his chest abates quickly back to what’s become its normal pain and Hotch relaxes a little more, pulling his hands up closer.
He’s not shivering but Derek can feel how cold he is. Hotch’s hands are like ice, Derek can feel them through his shirt. “Here,” Derek says, he begins to shift around, trying to bend around and pull his jacket off of himself. The movements cause Hotch’s broken ribs to move and his mouth opens as the air is pushed from his lungs, chest a tight ball of fire. 
“Morgan!” Emily stops him, one hand on Derek’s arm and the other on Hotch’s hip. “Stop moving.’ 
Hotch feels like a statue against Derek, completely tense. “Sorry,” Derek says, slowly moving back to how he was. He can hear Hotch’s breathing change again, easing as Derek does. “You alright? I’m sorry, shit.” He pulls the corners of his jacket around Hotch.
And though Hotch’s first reaction is to let himself move into the warmth, he still attempts a mumbled, “ ‘m fine.” Emily’s coat comes overtop and the cold wind is blocked out entirely, Hotch’s vision blurs, and the ground starts to twist up. He slips away from Derek and Emily’s conversation, vaguely aware they’re discussing him as if he’s not there. And then a cold hand rouses him, and not a moment passed for him, lifting his head up from the comfort of Derek’s chest. He doesn’t remember getting here. 
“You have to stay awake,” she commands but Hotch’s unfocused eyes see right through her. Emily turns her attention again to Derek and Hotch hears only her voice, her words jumbled into another language. 
Derek shifts his weight a little, and pats Hotch’s shoulder, “you up for talking?”
Hotch’s eyes are open, something had roused him but he’d already forgotten what, and now he was focused on keeping his eyes open. Believing it his own thought. “Hn,” Hotch grunts, certain his mouth has formed words. 
Derek is uncertain of the exact translation he should take from that response, so he pauses to think. He rubs Hotch’s arm absently as he ponders, hoping he’s doing enough to raise Hotch’s body temperature to keep him from going into shock. But there’s not much of a way to know. “Hey now,” Derek looks down and Hotch’s eyes have fallen considerably, attempt to close. “No sleeping on the job, Hotch. You know that.” 
“Hn,” Hotch grunts and it takes him a moment, but his scowl falls into place and Derek laughs. 
Derek holds him closer, “there you are.” He’s never been so happy to be reprimanded by a look in his life. “There you are, man.” His celebration annoys Hotch, all his hugging encouraging another grunt, but Derek doesn’t care. Six out of seven were not good odds, but Hotch had done it. Escape one more time by the skin of his teeth.
___________________
The scar tissue in Hotch’s right shoulder prohibits the muscles from extending completely, leaving his weight to rest on his left arm. There’s no way for him to move from the prone extension, his fingers high above his head and pale from lack of blood flow, and his feet do not reach the ground, covered in blood that’s run off him. The pain grounds him through the sedatives, on and off Hotch has the throbbing to grasp at time. To think. 
Hotch knew what happened, and how he got here, but he couldn’t let go of the feeling that it had only been a few hours. Only enough time to pass between being taken from his hotel room to getting here. But he looks down at himself and knows that can’t be true. There’s crusted blood dried over the hair on his stomach, stuck painfully to his pants. Cuts and bruises up his chest. So it can’t be day one.
“You’re awake.” Hotch recognizes the man standing in front of him but not with a name. “How are you hanging in there?”
Hotch has no memory of how the blood got on him, or what injuries he sustained to get here, but he knows he’s heard that joke several times already. Aided by the agony in his shoulder, Hotch is filled with hot-headed rage. The kind that had sat rather dormant and well-controlled in the pit of his stomach. That little voice that he’d learned to ignore. 
He tries to jerk away from the unsub but the man just holds his hip, forcing him still as he plunges another dose of clear hell into Hotch’s thigh. It doesn’t take long for Hotch’s vision to start to fade, his awareness slipping as he’s lowered onto the ground. His feet finally come down to the ground but accept no weight, he can’t feel his legs as they fold limply beneath him. 
He lies on the floor as the unsub prepares around him. He tosses a crowbar at Hotch, hitting him in the chest, and Hotch can do nothing but lay there and gasp, his fingers just inches from the weapon. It’s the third day. The third night, if Hotch had to guess. 
The other six men had their femurs broken, all three bones in the legs shattered and broken. Hotch has never broken a femur. He’s never broken his leg. 
The crowbar comes down over his hip first and it feels like broken shards of glass are being pushed through his skin. Anger comes back quickly, three more hits do nothing but fill Hotch’s head with cloudy red. A fog he can’t see through. 
Hotch sways on his feet a moment later, the crowbar clattering to the ground from his stiff-fingered grip. There’s more blood on him now, he’s standing in it. He looks emptily down at the unsub, at the broken bones he can see protruding incorrectly.
He walks away, without thought. Something in his hip is broken, the glass shards are stuck in the socket, but it keeps moving. He keeps walking, and none of it hurts under the haze, bones do not move as they should, but they keep moving. 
And then there are great lights in his eyes and the cold ground beneath him. 
___________________
Emily moves his hips carefully, lifting his legs and moving with great care to watch for the way Hotch’s jaw clenches tight with pain. He’s half-delirious laying in Derek’s arms, eyes open but fogged, blurrily staring off to the side. Derek shifts slowly, trying to get Hotch up in his arms without jostling him around too much. Emily gives Derek something to push himself up with, finally putting to test all the deadlifts he’d been doing. 
Keeping Hotch at his chest level requires a little too much bending and Hotch stirs uneasily as his ribs shift in his chest. Grating against one another but Derek keeps going, it will be worse to stop. It scares Emily to watch Hotch’s eyes roll back in his head, to hear his breathy pained noises turn suddenly silent. His entire body limp and face pale and slack as Derek stands with him in his arms. “Is he breathing?” Derek asks, refusing to move. He can’t feel it, Derek doesn’t see it either. 
Emily slides one hand underneath his shirt and tries to find the pulse on his neck. She can’t feel his heart beating anymore but he is breathing, and when she focuses for a moment, she can feel his pulse in his neck. “Yes,” she says and Derek sighs, “but not for long. So get in the car.” 
Derek puts Hotch in the passenger seat, properly up in front of the vents in the warm chairs. Emily buckles him in and Derek gets in the seat behind Hotch, supporting his head with his hand. Derek’s other arm goes around Hotch’s chest, hoping he can stabilize Hotch as best as he can while Emily digs gravel up, tearing down the road. 
Emily hits a turn hard and fast and Derek grits his teeth. This is exactly why Hotch doesn’t let anyone else drive. “Is he alright?” Emily asks, glancing over and cautiously shaking Hotch’s knee.
“Eyes on the road!” 
Emily jumps, her hands flying back to the wheel. Then she glares back at Derek, “don’t fucking yell at me!”
The jerking car and yelling rouse Hotch back to consciousness, pulling him from the depths of darkness back to the living. And all too soon. His seat belt tightens as Emily comes to a screeching stop in the hospital parking lot. By the time his vision clears, Derek’s arms are pushing up under Hotch’s knees, and he’s being lifted, pulled from the car. His vision spots for a moment, only vaguely aware of something touching his head. 
“Derek!” The hard thunk of Hotch’s head hitting the door startles them both. “Yeah don’t worry about the head, it’s not like he needs that.”
Hotch can feel Derek respond, can hear his voice deep in his chest. 
He’s laid onto something cold, blue gloves descending onto him as they grasp at his limbs. Hotch panics, lights beam down on him, there are scissors shredding his pants off of him. He can feel himself moving, dream-like limbs refusing to be called in to correct motion. Easily held down and easily manipulated so that the staff buzzing around him can continue their work. 
His voice is a trick to his own ears but he can hear a cry, the noises leaving his own mouth as if through the telephone. Belonging to someone else. 
Cold fingers move his head and Hotch grunts as an IV finally comes to sit in his hand, his eyes on the nurse tapping the needle down. Fingers prod at the back of his head and he feels intense pressure and then nothing, his head fuzzy and weak. His thoughts suddenly slower, everything coming down two paces. His eyes suddenly burned, too hard to keep open.
___________________
Taking a moment to catch his breath, the unsub has a glass of water, lazily checking his phone as he stands there. It gives Hotch time to think, to come back to himself and away from the ledge the pain had walked him to. The crowbar was a favorite, it hadn’t been in the previous murders. The coroner thought he was using a baseball bat, the injuries were more congruent with that weapon. 
Hotch didn’t know how much more he had in him. He couldn’t tell which day it was, how much time he had left. He’d begun to see things in the corner of the room, hearing Dave call his name and seeing Derek standing in the corner, finger over his lips, with his gun posed ready. 
But no one came. 
No one was going to come. 
The crowbar scrapes against the floor as the unsub adjusts his grip before raising it once again.
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Darlin'
Warnings: the Punisher themes, blood, gore, violence, kidnapping, Agent Madani (cause she's a trigger warning for me XD), sweet Frank
Word Count: 9095. This is a long one. Buckle up! MINORS DNI!
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Her father looked at her with his heart in his eyes, her face bruised and marred.
“Darling, I’m so sorry.” He whispers, patting her hand. She smiles at him.
“It’s okay.” She croaks, cracking her cuts on her face when she smiles bigger. He pats her lips with a paper towel, applying a couple drops off water to her mouth. “Chapstick in my purse, dad.” She coos, giving him a chuckle.
“Of course, baby.” He smiled, kissing her forehead and digging into her purse for that little tube of chapstick. She takes it, putting some on and sighing in relief. “I hired a bodyguard. Don’t fight me this time please. A different bodyguard; one more your style. Maybe you won’t run away from this one.” He chides, giving her a half-unimpressed look.
“Pop, it’s not my fault. He was old and boring.” She whines.
“Well, you can rest assured this one is not old or boring.” He chuckles, waving someone in. This beast of man, with broad shoulders, a strong jaw, and a dark look walks in. Her eyes drink him in. His all black apparel, tee shirt, cargo pants, military boots.
“Wow.” She whispers, “definitely not old.”
“I thought you might enjoy his company more. Since he doesn’t talk and he can’t be persuaded to take you out onto the town at three in the morning for waffles.” Frank chuckles. “Can you be persuaded to take her to get waffles at three in the morning?” He asks, jabbing a finger at the man.
“No, sir. I just think it’s funny that a bodyguard could be, sir.”
“Great. Military.” She heaves a sigh and rolls her lips together.
“This is my daughter, Kat. She’s my baby. I need you to promise you’d give your life to keep her safe.” Her father explains, her eyes watching the gold watch on his tan wrist.
“Sir, can I speak to you in the hallway?” He asks, looking at the door.
“Sir, you know who I am right?” He asks, looking to the man with a partially confused look.
“I’m Frank Castle. I killed so many people the US government lost count and gave me a new identity. But please justs call me Frank.” He explains, and her father’s eyes widen for a moment.
“You are Frank Castle. Wow.” He whispers.
“Yeah.” He nods.
“Alright, well. My daughter, Kat, she’s my world. Do you understand that?” He asks, looking to Frank and seeing him nod.
“Yeah, I get that.” He swallows hard.
“Good, now. My daughter is my whole existence. I love her with everything I have. She’s in the hospital because some men were looking for me and she wouldn’t give me up. If you’re ever in that situation, and she’s with you, tell her to give it up. Okay? My life is not valuable if I lose her. Understood? So if she’s ever kidnapped with you, please, give them whatever information they ask you for, okay? And when she gets released today, I’m putting the two of you in a safe house so she can heal.” He offers giving her a smile through the window, waving. Something about the sweet woman laying in that hospital made Frank almost feel weak. His stomach seemed to turn.
“Okay, and who’s supposed to be posted anywhere else near it? I’ll kill on sight if I don’t know them.” He states as calmly as his own name. Her father, Gianno, grins and claps Frank on the shoulder.
“Your huge. You’re a killer. And it’s sweet.” He chuckles, leaving Frank outside for a moment as he goes to talk to his daughter.
“Honey, I need to tell you something, okay? When you’re released in a few minutes, I’m going to have you quietly placed in a safe house away from me. Okay? Until you’re healed. Please don’t be mad.”
“Mad? Is Hercules going?” She giggles, pointing to the large man with his back to the door. Her father just nods and laughs. “Then I am not mad. I’ll be holed up in a one bedroom apartment with that sweet, huge man and I cannot wait.” She explains.
“Wow, you know you can’t sleep with him, right?”
“And if I did. I’d never tell you. Who’s packing my stuff?” She asks, looking at him quizzically.
“Lyla is, currently. I figured if any girl knew what to pack it’d be her.” He laughs. The door opens, Frank nodding to her father.
“Hello! I’m Doctor Haas. I’m here with the paperwork for you, dear.” The woman nods with a gleaming smile. Handing over a clipboard, Kat signs the paperwork in record time and happily changes out of the gown. “We’ll grab a wheelchair from the hall and--”
“No! No, please. No wheelchair. Between pop and Hercules I’ll be fine. Honestly. I wanna walk out on my own.” She whines, standing on quaking legs.
“Alright! No problem.” She smiles, giving her a nod and sending her on her way.
“Honeybun, maybe you should think about using the--”
“No! Pop, I’m not using it.” She gingerly steps into the hallway. Frank looks down at her for a moment, taking in the situation. Before he can say a word, she looks up with shimmering grey-blue eyes and a pleading smile. “I can’t use a wheelchair. I have to walk out of here.” She whispers, gripping his hand.
“Okay.” He whispers back. With a look at her, he tucks her under his arm, holding her up at her waist to keep her on her feet. Even when her legs start to give way at the exit door, Frank holds fast and gets her quickly to the car.
“You can do it.” He whispers as the steps get closer and closer, the car only a yard away. “Come on. If anyone can do it, you can. You didn’t take a wheelchair because you know you’re strong.” He coos, getting her to push through the last ten steps before collapsing into the SUV.
“Thank you.” She whispers, hugging his neck as he lifts her onto the seat. He climbs in next to her, buckling her in.
“Safe house.” Her father states as he gets into the passenger seat with a little smirk on his face.
“Tell me, Hercules. Where are you from?” She asks, gripping his bicep and gleaming up at him.
“Queens.” He smiles, his eyes scanning around them while he talks to her.
“You married?” She asks, looking at the necklace that hangs around his neck.
“I was.” He states, looking out the windows for suspicious cars.
“Ah sorry. Divorced?”
“Killed. My wife and two kids.” He states, looking to her with pain in his eyes.
“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.” She coos, patting his shoulder. “God I’m tired.” She murmurs, tipping over onto his shoulder and falling asleep. He gently leans her to the other door onto the padded seat back and sits back up, eyes scanning again.
“Mister Luccianni, that silver grand am to your right, has been following us for the past two miles.” He states, grabbing for his weapon. “Gimme the go, I’ll smoke em.” He offers, narrowing his sights and putting his finger on the window button.
“Stand down. They’re your test. You passed. Good eye. Is she asleep?” Her father asks as they pull into a parking garage.
“Yeah.” He nods, the car coming to a slow stop in a parking spot.
“The silver car has her things in it. It’s the most common car in the state of New York it seems. So, Lyla, her best friend is in the car. She’s sex-crazed and will probably hit on you. She’s got Kat’s things and she can help put them in the apartment. Now. Next, I need you to carry her in, as unsuspecting as possible. It’s midday and people are out and about. Try not to give yourselves away. Lyla is dressed in a mover’s uniform. Short brunette, pencil straight hair. There will be neighbors out. You two are newly married until you get in that door.” Her father debriefs him with a smile and gives him a nod.
“Got it, sir. Is she to stay in the apartment all the time? Will she sneak out? What do the men look like who did this to her?”
“Don’t keep her cooped up the whole time, she’ll go crazy. Call a driver first. The driver confirms with you. You bring her out as your new wife. You get into the car. She will sneak out. Lyla will probably convince her to sneak out so they can go wine tasting or something. Lyla’s a good girl, but she’s crazy. The men who did this? They look dead.” He answers all the questions and he nods. Frank found her interesting. “She’s been engaged, but never married. He was killed, much like your family.” He coos, looking at his daughter with a loving, sad smile. “Alright, it’s time to go in.” He smiles, letting Frank get out first, scooping her out of the seat and starting towards the door.
“What-what’s happening?” She asks. Half awake, half asleep, the jostling is all to familiar and she kicks out, diving to the ground and waking up immediately. Frank stares down at her with wide eyes and a little smirk.
“You good now?” He gruffs, sticking out a hand. She takes it, allowing him to pull her to her feet.
“Yeah, I’m so sorry.” She whispers as he tucks her under his arm.
“It’s okay, hunny. Those men can’t hurt you again.” He states out loud, his big hand covering the side of her face and holding it against his chest. “We’re married when we leave this aparment.” He hushes as they walk, never missing a beat.
“Well, alright then.” She giggles loudly, letting him keep her against him. As her father lets them into the apartment, Frank almost has to peel her off of him. “Aw, c’mon hunny! I’m not done cuddling.” She whines, making grabby hands at him. “You’re so warm.” He just chuckles, heading into the room with her father and other guards to discuss what the next plan is. A knock at the door has Frank’s undivided attention. Peeking through the peephole, he sees the described woman who was bringing her things in. He waves her over, signaling to be quiet.
“Is this Lyla?” He asks, covering her mouth as she gasps. She nods violently, grabbing for the handle. Frank’s hand is faster, tugging hers away. “Go over there.” He hushes, pointing behind the couch. Huffing, she rolls her eyes and wobbles to the couch. Frank carefully opens the door and finds a petite woman with a cart full of suitcases. “Name.” He barks, hand resting on his pistol.
“Lyla. I’m here for welcome party.” She grins so widely Frank finds it odd, but when he peeks out, he sees a neighbor looking over at them.
“My wife must’ve invited you! C’mon in!” He cheers, waving her in and shutting the door. “The arsenal arrived.” He chuckles, waving Kat over.
“I’m so happy to finally see you!” She cheers, gripping her best friend in a warm, tight hug. When Kat groans at the slight throb in her ribs, Frank’s head flips back to them.
“You okay?” He asks.
“Yeah.” She assures, heading into the bedroom and Lyla follows, dragging the bags along with her. Frank laughs, heading back into the room with her father and guards again. She curls up onto the couch after waving goodbye to her best friend. Frank had tossed his jacket onto the couch with his duffelbag and when she saw his coat, the only blanket-like thing near her, she draws it to her and covers up with it.
“But we’ll head out so you two can get better acquainted. The fridge and cupboards have been stocked up for you. Drinks are in the island, as well as wine in the cabinet. If Lyla tries to kidnap her, just shmooze her with wine tasting.” He chuckles, kissing his daughter atop her buised head and stepping out.
As she wakes from her nap, she sees the most glorious sight. A glass-walled shower with frosted glass and her bodyguard’s naked body in said shower. He climbs out, wrapping the towel around his waist. Combing through his hair, he feels eyes on himself and looks out the open door to see she’s awake.
“Hey, hot bodyguard.” She gives an awkward wave, jaw still on the floor.
“Hey, Kat.” He waves, dropping the towel just outside of her eyesight, returning a moment later dressed in a gray tee shirt and jeans, hearing a audible groan.
“It’s Frank, by the way.” He chuckles, offering a hand.
“It might be wise to know my newly wedded husband’s name. In case the neighbors ask.” She laughs, patting the couch with an inviting smile.
“You should shower.” He ruffs, helping her to her feet. “Doctor said first night you shower, try not to lift your arms too much. So I’m the best you got.” He smiles, a little excited to see her naked, frosted glass or not.
“Great. So you’re name is Frank, you’ve known me twelve hours, and now you’re going to see me naked? This is a fucking treat.” She rolls her eyes, but Frank just laughs.
“You didn’t think you’d be the only one to get a show, did you?” He asks.
“Hey now! I happened to wake up at the right time. That’s not my fault.” She laughs, defending herself as she gives a grin.
“It is now, c’mon, doll.” He chuckles as she digs through the suitcase for underwear, a bra, and a shirt. She’d found shorts already.
“Did you just call me doll? Should I call pops and tell him you already have a crush on me?” He just rolls his eyes as she walks to the bathroom. Tugging off her sweatpants and underwear, she feels exposed, but she can’t get her shirt off. Snapping her fingers, she hooks the t-shirt’s collar onto the towel hook and tugs the shirt off, sobbing when her arm is raised so high. Frank comes through the door.
“You okay?” He asks, looking around her to find her shirt hanging on the hook.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” She nods, letting Frank’s eyes drink her in. “Actually, Frank? Can you unhook this? I can’t get it.” She whines, pushing on her bra with one hand.
“Sure.” Unhooking her bra, his knuckles brushing her smooth skin, his eyes travel down the gauze pads that pepper her back.
“Those have to come off too.” She whispers, meaning the gauze pads. He peels each one off gingerly to find a variously shaped cigarette burns on her back.
“What the hell?” He whispers, his finger running between the burns. She shivers at the intimate touch and he jerks his hand away. “Sorry, I-”
“It’s okay.” She whispers, putting Frank’s hand back on her shoulder and letting him trail down again.
“It looks like a constellation.” He whispers, pulling away his hand.
“Thank you.” She coos, letting the hot water start.
Frank washes her back and shoulders, gentle around her burns.
“Thank you.” He puts the loofa down and steps out of the bathroom giving her a little privacy and himself a little space. He didn’t know why he felt this way, but he wanted so badly to kiss every little mark, trailing down her back. Huffing to calm down his nerves, he heads to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Not finding any, he mixes up a couple mugs of hot chocolate.
“So, uh, no coffee. But, I found some hot chocolate.” He smiles. Offering a mug of steaming hot cocoa.
“No coffee?” She asks, looking at him like he’d just sworn at her.
“Right? No coffee.” She pulls out her phone and sets up a delivery for starbucks in the morning.
“I probably shouldn’t drink any, anyway. It’s late, ya know. I should sleep.” She groans as they finish off the hot chocolate.
“Yeah, you hit the bed. I’m on the couch.” He explains, pointing to the bedroom.
“No, no. I can’t sleep there while you--”
“It’s my job. Okay? So you get in there and go to bed.” He orders, letting her get up and walk to her room.
Almost an hour passes when he hears her voice softly muttering under her breath.
“Darlin’?” He asks, looking into the dim room to see her thrashing on the bed, a scream filling the room. He bolts to her bed, grabbing her shoulders and hugging her against him. “IT’s not real. It’s not real. You’re in a safehouse. You’re name is Kat. You have a bodyguard named Frank. Your father is a mob boss.” He whispers things that are real as she comes out of her nightmare.
“Thank you.” She sniffs, curling into herself. He sits gently on the edge of the bed and draws her against him.
“No problem. Sometimes I get ‘em too.” He ruffs, looking at her with a small smile.
“Really? How do you make them go away?” She asks.
“I killed the men responsible.” He offers a crooked smile and she laughs. “Go to sleep.” He coos, smoothing her hair as she starts to drift.
“Oh, Frank? Tomorrow morning there’s supposed to a delivery driver at the door. I ordered coffee for the morning.” She smiles, letting him hug her against him, resting his chin atop her head.
“I’ll try not to kill them.” He hushes as he hears her lightly snoring. Sleep starts to push his eyelids closed and slowly, he leans back against the headboard, exhausted. Soon, she’s climbing on him in her sleep, cuddled as close as possible under his chin and on his chest. His arms curl around her instinctively. Safety washes over her as she peeps through one sleepy eyelid to see Frank so close to her asleep. Smiling, she tucks her head back under his chin and goes back to sleep.
A knock sounds at the door, waking them both out of their comforting bubble.
“Ssh. Don’t move.” He rises, scrubbing his face and stalking silently to the door. She takes a ten from her wallet and slides it under the door. “Put the coffee down, take your tip and walk away.” He demands, never opening the door. Once the man’s out of sight, she slips out and snatches the two coffees and the small bag of coffee grounds.
“Frankie!” She calls, handing him a coffee when she finds him standing in the kitchen making breakfast.
“Yes, coffee.” He chuckles, taking the cup and sipping the hot caffeinated drink.
“Thank you for last night. Ugh, sounds weird to say like that, but you know what I mean. I didn’t have a nightmare when you slept there. Can-I just-well-sorry. It’s stupid.”
“Nah, ask.” He assures, sliding a plate across to her.
“I just wondered, you know, if maybe--if you wanted to--possibly sleep in the same bed again. It doesn’t have to get weird. I just--that was the first night in almost two weeks I didn’t have another nightmare. It was exhilarating.” She stammers, so afraid of what the big brute might say.
“That’s fine.” He nods, sitting down to eat, but not before he pats a hand to her shoulder.
“So tell me something about you.”
“I was in a special forces military ops.” He offers, finishing his plate in record time.
“Wow, that’s explains your nightmares.” She wags her brows, almost halfway done with her plate.
“No, it doesn’t. My family was shot in a park. While I was there. It was meant for me but they didn’t get me. They got my son, my daughter, and my sweet wife.” He husks, his throat starting to close. Springing from her seat, fork clattering to the plate with a glass ‘ting’ she jumps into his arms, wrapping her arms around him and gripping tight.
“Christ, I’m so sorry. My husband was shot down while working with my father. The bullets were meant for my father, but the killer got the wrong info.” She whispers, and Frank’s arms wrap around her, hugging her tight to his hard body.
“I’m sorry.” He whispers, letting her hold him for what seems like hours.
“Frank? Can you promise me something?” She asks as she leans back a little.
“Sure.”
“Promise me you’ll do everything you can to stay alive. Okay? You’re a good man, Frank, and I don’t want to be the reason you die. I--You could walk out and I’d understand. You can leave.” She assures, elbows resting on his shoulders. Frank rises to his feet, towering over her and grabs her chin in his thumb and first finger.
“I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere. I already made a promise to your father to keep you safe if it kills me, so his negates yours. Sorry, hunny.” He hushes, grinning at her.
“Ugh, no fun.” She whines, tugging her face away from from his warm, firm grip and finding a sweatshirt to put on. It was chilly, Frank found it soothing, but his roommate not so much and she came back into the room in his black hoodie, almost drowning in it. He couldn’t hide the the small chuckle. “Hey Frank? Do you think we could go out today?” She asks, rolling the sleeves once so she could use her hands.
“No. I think we could not.” He mocks in a high pitched voice. She crosses her arms over her chest and pouts. Frank huffs, not sure if he should take her out. Grabbing his phone, he dials her father. “Why do you need to go out? We have coffee now, what else do you need?” He asks.
“I want fresh veggies from the market. I’d love to make something for dinner but all we have are like--lettuce and carrots.” She complains through a hand at the fridge in exasperation.
“Lettuce and carrots, fresh veggies! By the way! And you’re complaining.” She grabs his hands and gets right up to his chest.
“C’mon sweet husband of mine. Don’t you want to go out with your new bride?” She asks, jumping a little in excitement.
“Darlin’. Listen to me-- Yeah!” He answers his phone as her father calls him back.
“Hey Frank! You rang?”
“Yeah, your daughter wants to go out to the market right down the block. She wants to buy some veggies. I’m on my A game, sir. If you’re fine with it, I’ll take her.” He offers, shushing her with his hand clasping over her mouth. She looks at him with a smile, Frank feeling his heart swell.
“If you believe you can handle it, I don’t care if you two love birds go out.” Her father chuckles. “Put her on quick.” Frank puts the phone to her ear.
“Hello?” She asks.
“Hey baby. Listen to me. I don’t care if you two leave, but you have to stay at Frank’s side. You have to stay glued to him. You understand?” He asks into the phone, his expressions matching his words as if he were speaking to her face to face.
“Yeah, pop. Like glue. I love you!” She smiles into the phone, her father saying it back before they hang up.
“You ready?” He ruggs, offering her an elbow after letting her put on her white Gucci sneakers with her shorts and Frank’s sweatshirt. Sweater paw on his elbow, they leave arm in arm. His grips her hand as they step out. “Also, I’m Pete, your Honey.” He smiles, earning a half-upset look from her as they get into the elevator.
“Alright Pete.” She coos as they get into the car waiting for them. Driving them the two blocks, Frank gets out first, eyes scanning the perimeter. Finding nothing alarming, he nods to let her out. Her sweater paw reaches for his arm, but his hand cups high on her hip, pulling her against him as they walk through the market. “Aw hunny, over here! Some tomatoes! And some fresh basil, oregano, thyme, and ooh! Parsley!” As the two pay for their vegetables at each stand, Frank notices the man a few yards back, following them. Frank tries to hurry her along, but she’s intrigued by every stand and wants to look at everything. With two bags of veggies, a bag of chicken, and a grin as wide as Frank’s chest, he convinces her to get in the car just as the man reaches for her. Frank’s hand comes down hard and fast. When the man sees Frank’s face, his heart hits the floor and he turns, running away.
“Hunny, did that man just run the other direction?” She asks, looking to him as he shoves her into the car and they get into the apartment as fast he can. Once in the door, Frank’s hands graze over her body to be sure of no injuries, but she laughs it off.
Stepping into the kitchen, she opens the cupboard and heaves a sigh of relief.
“Thank god they brought cooking wine.” She assures, reaching but not quite grasping it. Climbing onto the counter and grabbing the wine bottle, her hand slips and she falls backwards but she and the wine bottle, never hit the floor.
“You are so clumsy.” He chuckles, righting her small frame and handing her the wine. “What are you making?” He asks, looking to her with a smirk.
“Chicken cacciatore, my nonna was the best at it, but I try my best.” She smiles shyly as she starts cooking.
As Frank takes his first bite, his eyes roll back and he moans. His reaction catches her offguard and she looks at him with a confused smile.
“It’s good. What can I say?” He shrugs, giving her a smile.
“Right, thank you.” She coughs, going back to eating her own. It didn’t taste like home but it almost did. She was happy to have it. She thinks back to earlier when the man trying to attack her saw Frank and ran away. It was remarkable yet a little unnerving. “Hey, Frank? Why did that man run away from you?” She asks as he takes a bite of dinner and looks up from his plate. His eyes are calculating, not sure what he should say. He assumed she knew about him. Since her father had found out, he assumed that she knew.
“I uh, I killed a lot of people. Bad people, but, still alot of people.” He wags his brows, holding his breath.
“How many?” She asks, taking another bite as if this were small talk.
“Thirty five.” He coughs, trying to disguise it. She looks up for a moment and a grin crosses her face.
“Wow, thirty five? My father’s record for one day is only ten.” She blabs, continuing to eat.
“It wasn’t in one day. I killed all the people responsible for my family’s deaths. Everyone.” He hushes, looking at her as she continues to eat. When she glances up, her eyes meet his and she gives an apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry, Frank. Holy shit!” Her fork clatters to her plate and she jumps to her feet. “Frank Castle! Holy shit! Oh my god! You’re Frank Castle! Holy fuck.” She stammers over and over, staring at him with wide, loving eyes. “Sorry, most girls crush on celebrities, but not this one. I mean, you are a celebrity, a dead one. But still, wow. You are beautiful.” She coos, staring at him. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you. Wow, Frank Castle. I gotta call Lyla! She’s never gonna believe this!” She crows like a teenage girl, fumbling for her phone. “We used to watch your news pieces and when you killed all those people in prison, amazing.” He plucks the phone from her hand and he laughs.
“No out calls.” He laughs, trying to compose himself.
“Oh come on! I just made the discovery of a century, and you won’t let me call my best friend?” Whining, she stamps a foot like a child and he gives her a half smirk.
“I’m sorry, darlin’.”
“Stop calling me that.” She huffs, her playfulness gone for a moment.
“Why?” He prods. A knock sounds at the door, making both of them jump. His hand grips her wrist across the table and he creeps around, putting her against the wall. Sneaking to the door, he looks through the peephole to see Lyla standing there, but instead of her giddy self, she’s rather squeemish, shifting from foot to foot, looking around nervously. Frank carefully opens the door, but it comes blasting in on him, sending him soaring into the couch.
“I’m sorry!” Lyla sobs as three grown Russian men shove in, grabbing Frank and throwing fist after fist into his face. Looking for her, one Russian reaches over the counter to grab her, but she stabs him with a knife in the arm. The man growls, yanking his arm back. Dislodging the knife, he tosses it aside to find she’s gone. Hunting for her while they kick Frank. A gun shot echoes and one of the Russians falls to the floor. Lyla stands with the gun in her hands, tears in her eyes as another Russian jumps on her, grabbing her by the hair and throwing her into the wall. Kat finds a gun in Frank’s bag and she shoots the large man beating on her best friend and just as she points the gun at the one on Frank, she sees the man’s dead body flop over onto another of the Russians. Frank rises to his feet, blowing air out his nose, blood spraying as he did so. Foot steps slow and calculated as he walks to Lyla, her scared whimpers enough to break Kat’s heart as Frank grabs the front of her shirt and drags her to her feet.
“You brought them here?” He growls low, his voice dark and feral.
“I-they were gonna kill my mom and me if I didn’t tell them.” She whimpers, tears falling down her face.
“And they almost killed you and her.” He barks, pointing to Kat, who stands in shock, quaking with a gun in her hand. Frank limps to her, slowly drawing the gun from her hands and placing it on the couch. “It’s okay.” He whispers, letting her drop her head to his shoulder. She hiccups and then sobs, gripping the back of his blood soaked shirt.
“Frank--you--you’re--” He covers her mouth with a bloody hand, shaking his head.
“I’m fine, darlin’.” She huffs and smiles, tears staining her cheeks. When her eyes lift over her shoulder, she sees the front door still wide open. Giving a shriek, she slips from his grip and slams the door, locking every deadbolt and chain before running back to Frank and gripping him tight.
“Frank, you-you’re bleeding.” She coos, carefully taking him to the couch. Appearing a moment later with a kit in her shaking hands. “Lyla, grab the bottle of rum from the cupboard. Also, it’s Frank fucking Castle!” She cheers as Lyla brings the bottle to her. When her eyes finally meet the man’s face she gasps.
“Holy shit. Your serial killer boyfriend is real.” She laughs, trying to calm her down. Taking a couple swigs from the bottle, she offers it to Frank.
“You want any?” She asks.
“Nah. Really I’m fine.” He hushes, letting his hands cover hers.
“Shut up, Frank.” She nips, swatting away his hands. Cleaning up his face, she puts a couple butterflies on the cut on his forehead, and a bandaid on the little ones on his cheek and chin.
“Darlin’ c’mon. Stop it.” He huffs, pushing her hands away. Jabbing a finger into his chest, earning a groan.
“Quit. Calling. Me. That.” She bites, clapping the kit closed and stomping to the bathroom to put it away.
“What’s her problem?” He huffs to himself, grabbing his cellphone and dialling her father.
“Yeah?”
“So the friend we thought we could trust, not so trustworthy. I need a discreet clean up crew.” He explains, when he sees her appear again. She hooks her arms under the man’s arms and drags him over to the pile of two more bodies and groans in disgust. “Hey, quit touching those.” He hushes, covering the mic on the phone.
“No! I want them gone.” She cries, tears starting to fall down her face.
“Ssh, it’s okay. Calm down.” He cuddles her against his strong body and coos in her ear.
“Clean up crew is on it’s way. Now, tell me my daughter is okay.” Her father’s voice calls to Frank.
“She’s fine, sir. She was cracking jokes earlier.” He chuckles, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
“Good. The clean up crew is four men. They’ll bring a laundry cart up, say they’re here for pickup. You let them in.” Her father says as someone knocks on the door. She dives for the pistol and points it at the door, quaking as Frank carefully opens it to find a two laundry bins and four men.
“Sorry, she’s still scared.” He offers, reaching out and pulling the gun from her hands.
“It’s okay, sir. We just want to remove the bed bugs and get you cleaned up.” The man informs, putting the bodies into the carts and cleaning up in less than an hour. A deep breath escapes her as she sags against Frank, relaxed. His arm closes around her shoulder and he pats her clothed back.
Two Weeks go by, fun had by the two holed up in a small New York penthouse.
“Hey doll, I’m gonna head down for coffee. Don’t let anyone in, okay?” Frank’s gravelly voice washes over her for a moment as he walks through the door. “Lock all of these. I’ll knock twice and call out to you.” He smiles, patting her arm before stepping out and shutting the door. Frank listens as the door locks click, breathing out softly. He was nervous to leave but he hadn’t heard a sound, and there were other men posted outside the room and the building.
He gets to the bakery just down the street and orders her coffee, and his, getting a strawberry turnover with a little smile. Paying for the items, Frank looks at the bag and coffee cups in his hand and he gives a chuckle. He thought to himself, for a moment that he could have this. This life could be his. Getting coffee and turnovers in the morning like some kind of domesticated husband, the kind of husband he wanted to be for Maria. He chuckles, shaking his head. As he gets up the stairs, he sees two guards knocked out, laying in a pile.
“Shit.” Sprinting into room, the coffee hitting the tiled floor and splashing out, splattering up onto the bottom of the sofa where they sat comfortable in each others silence for almost four weeks. His eyes drop to the blood on the couch and the blood on the table, smeared like fingers grasping for the edge. His breath hitches, trying to breathe, but he can’t. “Kat! Kat!” He shouts, screaming at the top of his lungs.
“Frank Castle. It is Castle, right?” A voice calls, and when he turns, he finds a small woman standing before him, Agent Madani.
“What the hell are you doing here?” He barks, voice low and eyes on hers like lasers.
“Saving your little girlfriend you’ve been playing house with. She’s safe. Undisclosed location. Thinks her father is in questioning. No worries, nothing incriminating. But, tell me, Frank. What would you do if I weren’t watching this place, huh? I need to make a deal with her father, but he needs to know it’s the FBI. He will go to a maximum security prison for the rest of his life, but he and his daughter will be safe. The safest she can be, which I think is a little important to you.” She informs, arms crossed over her chest, watching Frank stand there, his chest heaving.
“You have her? Is she under surveillance? Can I see her?” He barks, storming towards her like a black cloud.
“After you get me a meeting with her father, Gianno Lucciani.” She retorts, not letting up. Frank steps closer, hand gripped around Madani’s neck, ready to squeeze, but he doesn’t.
“I’ll see.” He whispers, yanking away the hand around her neck he grabs his phone, calling her father.
“Frank?”
“Yeah, Gianno. Listen to me, man. You gotta come down here to the safehouse.” Frank tries to be calm but his voice wavers slightly.
“Frank, what’s wrong?” He demands.
“There’s some FBI agents here. They’re questioning Kat. They want to cut you a deal. They said they’ll let Kat go when you’re here.” He informs.
“Okay. I’ll be there in five minutes.” He barks, hanging up.
“You gotta handcuff me. When he gets here, he’s gotta think you busted in and got me down first. You’re gonna wanna bring Kat back in too.” He offers. “If his daughter isn’t here, he’ll kill everyone in here if he doesn’t see her face.” He shrugs, putting his hands behind his back and letting them cuff him. They cuff his ankles too for good measure and just as they drop him onto the ground her father comes bursting into the door.
“My daughter.” He growls, gun jammed into Madani’s head. “Unlock him. He’s just her bodyguard. Pete Castliglione. You’re name is Pete right? Why is he handcuffed?” He barks, jabbing a finger at Frank on the floor.
“Yeah, listen, Madani knows. I’m Frank fuckin’ Castle. Okay? We need to see Kat now.” He barks as they take the cuffs off.
“Bring her in.” Madani calls, waving to a couple agents as they head out, returning with his sweet Kat.
“Shit.” He whispers as she piles into him, clinging to him like a lifeboat in the middle of a raging sea.
“Frank, Frank. They broke in. They-the government. They took me to a room. Questioned me. Frank, I--”
“Ssh. Ssh. Ssh. It’s okay, darlin’.” He whispers, her father stepping out into the hallway with Madani.
“Frank I said--”
“Don’t call you that, but it’s important today. Okay?” He coos, grabbing her and kissing her forehead. Her father walks in just in time to see Frank holding her tight against him. His big arms wrapped around her, making her look small and frail.
“Kat, baby, you okay?” She twists around in Frank’s grip. As he starts to let go, her hands grip tightly to his forearms and she chokes on a sob.
“It’s okay. I’m right behind you.” He coos, tugging his arms away as she stumbles to her father.
“Baby, you’re okay. Listen, daddy’s gonna be going away for a while. Okay?” He coos calmly, as if he’s still talking to the same little girl from twenty years ago.
“Daddy, what--”
“The government woman is--”
“Quit talking to me like a child!” She shrieks, screaming at him and stamping her foot.
“I’m taking your father into custody for all the money laundering, the murders of five men, and for running a drug ring underground that we now have you admitting to.” Madani informs loudly as they cuff her father and start walking him down, out into the parking lot. “Put a vest on her, call it protection, whatever you need to do to put her into safety. We’ll shoot her. Take her as crossfire. The Russians and the Cartel will be down there. He’s safest in prison. And we’ll get him there. I need Frank removed safely. Once we’re out of here, they’ll load her into a body bag and get her somewhere safe with Frank. No one tip off Frank or the father. If they know something’s up they’ll take her, whether they think she’s alive or not.” She informs her agents as they load Frank and her father into cars. When she screams at them, the firing of pistols and semi-automatic hand guns fills the air.
“No! Daddy!” She screams, running to the car, but as the car pulls away, an agent strategically shoots her in the chest twice, Frank’s heart hitting the concrete.
“No!” He cries, shaking violently in his cuffs as he tries to get out. Slamming his head into the window, he doesn’t even crack it.
“No! My baby!” Her father screams, following Frank’s actions. They leave her lying on the concrete, tears falling down his face more and more as he fights harder. Madani draws Frank from the car and drags him kicking, into another building.
“Listen!” She shouts over Frank’s heavy, deafening breathing.
“Madani, let me outta these goddamn handcuffs or I swear on Christ I’ll kill everyone in here. You too.” He growls low and hard, his eyes dark burning into the agent as she stands her ground.
“Frank. Frank, calm down.” She coos as they roll a stretcher in with a body bag. “Frank, her father’s going to a white collar prison, he’ll be safe. Frank. Calm down. I’m gonna take these off but please--”
“The bag. What’s in the bag!?” He screams. As the cuffs come off, his hands wrap around Madani’s throat, squeezing until hse’s gripping at his hands, his knuckles white.
“Frank?” Her soft voice takes his breath from his lungs and he drops Madani on the floor, her gasping just quietly in the background. “Frank I’m right here.” She whispers, rising from her bag like a zombie.
“Darlin’. Baby girl. Holy shit.” He whispers, gripping her and holding her against him.
“Frank, my dad. My dad, he thinks I’m--”
“Your father thinks you are dead, and that’s the safest thing for him to think right now. He’s going to a good prison, where he’ll be safe, but he wanted you as safe as possible, and if he, the Russians, and the Cartel believe that his only daughter is dead you are in no danger.” Madani explains, giving her a soft smile.
“My father thinks his only daughter is dead! He’s being arrested and sent to a prison? Frank?” She looks at him with betrayal twinkling in her eyes and Frank chokes, grunting at the pain. She’d never looked at him like that before. “Did you know?”
“Yeah.” He whispers.
“You knew? You helped them?” She cries, grabbing his shirt and shaking him.
“It isn’t what it looks like. You’re father--”
“Your father needed to be safe, and taking him into a facility where the cartel and Russians can’t get him is as safe as he can be.” Madani tries to explain. Kat turns, a fire in her eyes that Frank might’ve been scared of any other day. He folds his arms around her, constricting like a boa, holding steadfast as she begins to kick and hit, screaming at the top of her lungs for Frank to let go.
“I’m gonna kill you, bitch! I’m gonna kill you!” She screams, kicking and slapping at Frank’s stony arms. “Let go of me!” She cries, pushing his arms away and running for the door.
“No! Don’t go out there!” Madani yells. “There’s a Russian mob and a mexican Cartel being arrested right now with the help of your father’s information and willingness to cooperate.” She stops in her tracks and faces Frank.
“You-you knew about this?” She whispers, shaking her head in disbelief. “I trusted you, Frank.” Shaking hands run through her hair as she stands near the door, unsure of what to do. “Frank, how could you?”
“Hun, I just-I wanted to keep you safe. You’re father asked for safety. This is the best I could offer him. I’m sorry.” He explains.
“Me too.” She grabs the handle of the warehouse and walks out into the daylight, pushing her way through the throng of curious eyes and speculating lips.
“Kathryn?” A voice calls, and when she turns, a gun is jabbed into her side she knows she’s messed up. “If you move or set off that Castle, I’ll kill ya for real this time.” The thick Russian accent gruff and low in her ear.
“Eyes on the bait! Eyes on the bait. Moving southeast with a russian, six feet five inches, short black hair, two tattoos on his hands, can’t make out what they say. Getting into a van now, license plate echo-six-bravo-nine-two-eight.” Frank listens quietly before he grabs the nearest gun and charges out the door.
Eyes scanning the vans, he sees one pull away from the curb and follows it.
“Castle is on the move.” Madani calls into the mic.
Frank sets into a sprint as he follows the van. Getting into the warehouse, he listens to hear her give a scream.
“Tell us about Frank Castle.” He growls, stabbing a small pering knife into her thigh. Crying out, she looks around and something about the empty warehouse didn’t feel empty.
“I don’t know any Frank. And that’s saying something, I’m Italian.” She giggles through harsh breaths as he slaps her. The crack across her face sends Frank into a frenzy of rage, killing every man but the man who stands between him and Kat.
“Pete!” She exclaims, rattling the chair legs on the ground. The Russian man’s eyes fall to where hers are locked he raises his brows, gulping audibly.
“Castle.” He growls, looking to Frank as his eyes narrow and he tries to put on a dangerous front. When his eyes meet Frank’s he finds something feral there, something predatory, and he steps back. Frank raises a gun, shooting the man between the shoulder and heart, dropping him on the ground. Gasp. Gasp. Frank ignores the man as he draws Kat from the chair.
“You okay?” He coos, leaving her with a giggle on her busted lips.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Punisher.” She laughs as she hugs his neck, pressing sweet little kisses to his cut face. Frank Castle, the Punisher, New York’s scariest vigilante, and yet these arms that had strangled, hands that killed were comforting her; they were carressing her body with such comfort that tears fell down her face. “Are you okay?”
“I just--I’m so mad at you, but I love you.” She whispers, sniffling. He sucks in a sharp breath.
“You mean that?” He coos as he walks her to his car. Stiffening, he looks at her rigid form and stops them, looking to her with a grin.
“I--”
“I love you too.” He assures, kissing her forehead as he meets Madani at the a roof top across town. Pulling into a parking garage, he leads her to the roof where Madani waits, a small bag in her hands.
“This is yours.” She hands the bag to Kat with a smiling nod. Skeptical and mad, she snatches the bag and hands it to Frank without a second glance.
“No, darlin’. It’s for you.” He smiles, handing it back. Glaring at the bag, she tugs it back to her and opens it. Drawing out it contents, she reads over them carefully.
‘Marriage Certificate
Katalina Jane Foster and Peter Michael Castiglione
Were married at Wilson City Courthouse
July 15th, 2010’
Among the items in the bag was a social security card with her new name, and a driver’s license, passport, and the deed to a house in Atlanta, Georgia. Frank looks at her with a smile.
“Well what if I didn’t want to marry you?” She asks with a challenging smirk.
“Then I’d have to take this back.” He pops open small, velvety red ring box, exposing a dainty piece of silver jewelry with pretty little blue sapphires in it. With a huge grin on her face, she jumps into his waiting arms and kisses his face. Madani watches on with a smile as Frank loads his new bride into a car and they drive away.
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sorcerersofnyc · 3 years
Text
The Last Thing Left (Zemo x F!Reader) 7/9
If it wasn’t so painfully ironic (and hilarious to watch,) Helmut would find the relationship between Sam and James a little sad.
Ghosts weren’t enough to hold two people together.
While they wait for Torres to locate Donya Madani, Zemo brings Sam and Bucky to the home he once shared with you.
You reunite and he reflects upon his relationship with you (his wife's friend and his friend's wife) and your journey from being people with mutual friends to partners.
Part Seven: Zemo keeps his promise
Angst, various mentions of death & mourning, Zemo's wife's name is Heike because of comics.  I use Serbian Cyrillic as a stand-in for Sokovian. The reader likes waffles (this is a non-negotiable fact).
Note: Main Character is neutral in most regards, but the story was written with my own cultural background in mind. (In other words, I won't say what she looks like but I envision her as being black.)
First Chapter | Previous
***
You looked beautiful that night, beautiful in a way he never quite noticed before.
As Helmut held your hand to guide you from the seat of the car, feelings of guilt, and fear, and hope, and longing all swirled around his abdomen. And when you smiled at him, your eyes deep and pooling with emotions he wasn’t really ready to confront yet, electricity sizzled in the air.
You stepped inside with a word.
“That was really fun,” you said, breaking the silence as you toed off your shoes. “We’ll have to go again next time.”
“I’d rather not return there,” He replied, pulling his dark coat from his shoulders. "I much prefer the classics.”
Helmut knew those were fighting words, words that would keep you in his company for just a moment longer.
“You need to be more open-minded,” You scolded him, a playful challenge in your voice. He accepted it with ease.
“I’m open to plenty of new possibilities, I assure you.”
“Are you?”
“Indeed.”
There was something more to your banter that evening, something that spoke of many new possibilities.
*
He received a message from Oeznik one day, a reminder to check on one of the other estates.
He didn't really want to go — he finally narrowed down the identity of the Winter Soldier's handler and it would only be a matter of time before he found his hiding place — but he needed to investigate some financial discrepancies and make an effort to preserve his family's legacy.
So he invited you to accompany him and together you traveled to Italy, to a massive building miles away from any city. The building itself was ugly, a horrific mix of Romanesque and Rococo architecture, but the surrounding land was a lovely stretch of woodland and soft plains.
“How many estates do you own, exactly?” You asked, gazing out the window of the car as it entered through the gates.
“Only a few,” he shrugged. “You know about the 1908 Revolution, don’t you? When Sokovia’s nobility was forced to give up their land claims? My family lost claim to our Barony but my third Great Grandfather invested assets outside of Sokovia as a safeguard to his wealth." It’s a story he was told many times. It was meant to be a point of pride for the Zemo family, but all he came to realize was how paranoia drove a wedge between his family and the nation they claimed to serve.
For generations, his family held influential government positions and made the rules for others to follow while placing their money, and their trust, elsewhere. "Though this particular estate was passed down through my Mother's side of the family. As you can see they had a...interesting sense of design, much like you."
When the car stopped in front of the estate, a lovely older woman with a long nose and round face escorted you to the Sun Room.
The large windows offered an impressive view of the gardens and expanse of the woods beyond them.
“Hey,” you turned, calling for his attention as he dipped his fingers in a basin of soapy water. “What’s that over there?” Beyond the trees were tall lights, LED panels stuck to the side.
“A racetrack,” he answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Oh. Doesn’t it get loud?”
“No, why would it?”
“Because of all the people? And the cars?"
“No, no, you misunderstand, my friend. The track is mine.”
"Huh?" You snapped your head back at him.
“I like cars,” Helmut shrugged, “remind me again to show you the collection in Berlin.”
“The collection in Berlin?” You raised both your brows. It wasn’t your first time hearing about it, but you must have forgotten. “Is there anything you don’t have?”
“Beach-side property?” He suggested, a sly smile on his face.
“Oh, no! Whatever will you do without one, Baron?” You rolled your eyes exaggeratedly.
“I suppose I’ll have to buy one quickly. Where would you like to visit next?”
A maid wheeled in a cart before you had the chance to reply. She nodded toward him politely but looked at you as though she were confused. She had the skittish look of someone who had something to say, but remained silent as she began to set the table.
"Leave it," Helmut told her with a raised hand. She paused again.
“Baron?”
“Leave it,” He repeated, much lower this time. The maid lowered her head before retreating, leaving the room with a puzzled look on her face.
You shot him a concerned glance.
“You ok?”
“Of course,” he told you, “have a seat.” He
set the table instead.
Helmut wasn’t particularly angry. Rather, he felt annoyed. He didn’t appreciate the look the maid gave you, as if you didn’t belong there.
He could certainly understand the confusion.
News of Heike and Carl’s demise spread throughout his network of employees, even the ones he himself never checked in on (he counted on Oeznik to do that for him.) So when he arrived with you as his company, they must have assumed he already moved on.
You took a seat at his request and allowed him to pile food upon your plate.
“If you’d like to go for a ride,” He began, returning to your prior conversation, “I can have someone prepare the track for us. I have a collection here as well, though it isn't large.”
"I thought you said you had to work." You met his gaze.
"I can spare time." He said, because at that moment, as the sun poured into the windows and framed your face like a halo, he’d do anything for you.
*
The delectable smell of sun-dried tomatoes, garlic, olives, and warm buttered bread wafted through the air as Helmut told of the time he spent here as a child. He had many stories of running through the gilded halls, playing with decorative swords, and badgering Oeznik with questions about his supposed history as a soldier and spy.
You spent a long time talking. He eyed the bottles that lined the shelf on the wall but ignored them for the sake of keeping sharp senses.
And when your lunch settled, he escorted you outside.
A car needed to be called to reach the garage through the thick patch of trees that surrounded it.
The garage was another monstrosity, a wide cement structure that resembled a bunker, but it served its purpose well. It was warm, and the fluorescent lights gleamed off the paint of his sports cars, vintage and modern alike.
Someone, his mother, he believes, had a viewing lounge built behind a thick glass wall. Sheets covered the couches and chairs, but he knew it to be a comfortable place.
“Take your pick,” he offered you, gesturing to the cars all parked in a line.
After a few moments of wide-eyed gaping, you settled on a Bugatti in electric blue. Helmut approved of your good taste.
Like a gentleman, he opened the passenger door for you. He grabbed a pair of gloves from the glove compartment as you marveled at the soft leather and strapped yourself inside.
He smiled and, unlike a gentleman, lied when he told you, ‘I won't go too fast.’
He sped up quickly.
"Slow down!" You demanded, bracing yourself as he neared the car's top speed.
“Don’t worry,” he assured you, arrogance heavy in his voice, “I’m an excellent driver.”
The track wasn't perfectly symmetrical, in fact, it was quite abstract with its curved roads and the long lanes flanked by trees.
You eased up little by little and by the time of your third go around the racetrack, your eyes were wide with unfettered joy.
“See? What did I say?” He offered you a smug smile when he turned into the garage once again. You might have laughed at the look of disappointment on your face when he didn’t go around a fourth time. "Would you like to go around again?" He adjusted the fit of his gloves nonchalantly.
"Yeah, let’s do it again!" You nodded.
"The same car or a different one?"
"Do you have one that's faster?"
"Do you truly have to ask, Драга? Of course I have one faster."
Your excitement was infectious. He nearly forgot what it was like to truly let go and lose himself in the fun of the day. Instead of working or plotting or even thinking of those things, he showed off each of his favorite cars—the red Porsche, the orange McLaren, the silver Lamborghini—and took you for a ride in each of them.
And then, you asked about his darling—perhaps not his; it was produced and acquired nearly a decade before his birth, but he adored it all the same— the silvery-blue Jaguar E-Type Roadster.
There was no particular reason why he adored it, (‘aside from the fact that it was beautiful, he thought. Like any man of his means and interest, Helmut admired beautiful things.
He watched you admire the sleek, rounded design.
“What about this one?” He imagined, for a moment, sitting with you inside the convertible, your legs stretched before you, your hair pushed back by the wind, your form, and your laughter the only thing in focus as the world blurred by.
“This one isn’t for driving.” He decided quickly, because the road might not have held his focus and driving wouldn’t have been what he wanted to do. “And the clouds are coming through.”
It was meant to rain that evening and, true to his words, clouds gathered and grayed the sky.
When it got dark, he turned on the bright lights that framed the road and took you out one last time.
"I'd let you drive one if you wanted," he told you, before adding, "on the straight road," rather quickly.
"We can do it again tomorrow? You won't be too busy?"
Your smile was free of worry, free of doubt or hesitation; it was beautiful. He's glad he didn't take you out in the Jaguar.
"We can do whatever you want, Драга."
"I just want to spend more time with you, it doesn't matter what we're doing."
*
After dinner, Helmut escorted you to your bedroom.
You bid him goodnight and disappeared behind the ornate door.
Helmut retired to the library, not quite ready for bed. It was a large room with tall shelves stuffed with books of many shapes and sizes. He spent nearly an hour perusing the shelves until stumbling across a worn copy of Il Principe, The Prince. He was well familiar with the text. He was tempted to pick it up, to slide into a chair near the window, and read to the soothing sound of rain outside the window. He flipped through the pages with idle interest and wondered what you thought of Machiavelli. ‘You certainly wouldn’t agree with his philosophies,’ he thought. He considered bringing you the book, anyway.
But then he sighed. He spent the entire day ignoring his responsibilities in favor of spending time with you.
But just as he moved to slide the book into place, he heard soft footsteps moving toward him. The person approaching was used to going unnoticed.
“Oeznik,” Helmut greeted when the man reached the edge of his periphery
“Good evening, Sir.” Oeznik greeted, bowing his head respectfully. “Did you enjoy your day out on the tracks?”
“I did,” Helmut answered truthfully, the book still in hand. “Were you able to speak with the staff today?”
“Yes, I believe I’ve found the source of the discrepancy.”
“Thank you, Old Friend. I’ll take care of the rest.” He slid the book back in place and planned to leave, but Oeznik watched him carefully as if he was considering something.
“Was there anything else?”
“Forgive me Sir; I was just thinking. The rain will clear soon, so you should enjoy the new day.”
Helmut raised a brow. Helmut’s known Oeznik for far too long to think that his seemingly innocuous comment had anything to do with the weather.
“You think I should spend another day without working?” Spend another day with you.
“Time off is good for your health, Sir. I’ll handle what needs to be done.” Oeznik stood with his back straight, his eyes focused and clear. He trusted Oeznik with many things, but he wouldn’t leave his mission to anyone else.
“Regarding the staff?” Helmut asked, leading him toward the conversation he wanted to have. But Oeznik was old and stubborn. He’s known Helmut since he was a child and knew each of his games.
“Whatever else needs to be done.” Was his stern reply.
“I appreciate your offer but I’m fine.” Oeznik didn’t answer, he simply hummed. And that hum, that simple sound of dismissal, annoyed him. “You think I’m not?”
“You are. And it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you this way, sir.” It was Helmut’s turn to hum now, to demise what he knew Oeznik wanted to say.
It’s been a long time since he’s seen him happy.
“Perhaps you should take a stroll out in the garden,” He says suddenly, turning to leave as he does. “It’s still nice for this time of year. Goodnight, Sir.”
“Goodnight.” Oeznik exits the library and disappears from view. Helmut presses his lips into a thin line and returns to his room and go to sleep—but not before taking Machiavelli down from the shelf and calling for a glass of whiskey.
*
“Would you like a tour of the estate?” Helmut offered after breakfast—he needed to inspect everything anyway. You agreed.
So he offered you his arm and took you through the gilded halls, recounting the building's long but turbulent history.
"I'm surprised you don't have a horse or something," you joked, looking over the southern balcony and into the grounds below.
"Would you like a horse?"
"Find me a unicorn and I’ll buy it myself.”
After the tour, you put on your jackets, and Helmut took you through the garden path. The warm weather plants weren't thriving, but it was beautiful nonetheless.
"This is nice," you sighed as you sat together on a bench. "I'm glad you invited me here, it's like a vacation."
"As am I," he answered, and the truth in his words surprised him.
Helmut was happy you were there, sitting beside him on a bench on a wild winter day in Italy. It was simple, but Helmut something inside him stirred and his heart swelled with affection for you.
You stayed like that for a while, relaxing beneath the shelter of winter flowers.
But then a chilly wind blew., you pressed a little closer, and he turned your way.
Your eyes met briefly.
“Are you cold?” He covered your hand with his own, warming them between the soft leather of his gloves. You met his gaze again and then your eyes fell lower, over his nose, his mouth, his neck, down his chest, and to the place where his hand held yours.
“Thank you.”
“Of course.”
You released a shuddering sigh and then, with newfound confidence, gazed into his eyes again.
"Helmut," you said, voice just above a whisper.
"Hm?"
“Is this ok?” It was an open-ended question, one that could have meant anything and everything all at once. But somehow he knew exactly what you wanted to say.
“Maybe,” was his honest reply.
And then, as if pulled by some magnetic force, you both leaned forward as if the answer could be found in the space between your lips.
Neither of you made it very far before and he pulled away, turning his gaze toward the garden path.
You both looked away, the silence that settled between you louder than any words either of you could say.
"I just wanted to thank you…” You said softly. “I know you were supposed to be working today. It must be hard to have so much to manage. With...Dominik,” You said his name with some measure of difficulty, “There’s just money in the bank he left, a few stocks that manage themselves but you...it must be hard to be a Baron." You rambled nervously.
"... I'm glad to spend this time with you." He confessed.
There was little else he'd rather do.
*
Neither of you acknowledged what happened—or rather what failed to happen—and how it left you wanting, aching for something that couldn’t be said.
So instead you smiled politely, exchanged the usual pleasantries, and went about the rest of the day.
You were right; he had work to take care of. There were contracts to renew, work orders to approve, and papers to file.
So while you got cozy with a lovely charcuterie, he acquired an entire bottle of whiskey and set to work.
*
That night he thought about what happened in the garden, what might have happened had he not pulled away.
He let himself imagine the sweet press of your lips against his own, the hesitant glance you might have shared before taking the plunge and moving into deeper kisses and maybe something more.
The very thought made him yearn for you—and he certainly wouldn’t find an answer to that in a decanter.
Helmut sat up in his bed and glanced at the wall. You were there, just on the other side, and he wondered if you felt the same, if you felt the same need for him as he felt for you. But before he had the chance to rise, to knock upon your door and take you in his arms, he received a message on his phone.
Oeznik, true to his word, had done some work. He uncovered a piece of important information, something about the UN meeting setting a date for late March.
There was to be a vote on legislation meant to limit the power of the Avengers.
He was out of time, he realized, dread bubbling up to the pit of his stomach.
He had to leave.
*
You ate breakfast together the next morning and once again went your separate ways.
“Come find me when you’re done working, ok?” You said, looking as though you had something important to say. He ignored your expression and nodded, taking the last bite of food on his plate.
Helmut took his time to survey each of the rooms, talk to the staff, and confirm that everything was in its proper place.
Next came the troublesome part, the part where he needed to plan for you. He needed to make arrangements to ensure your wellbeing and prepare you for a future he couldn’t be a part of, no matter how much he longed to be.
The work was tedious, and though he cursed himself for failing to have done so months prior, Helmut persisted. He spent the entire day tucked away in his office, talking to various lawyers and financial advisors.
Unfortunately, their ‘advice’ was all but useless.
He poured a drink.
Within a few hours, Helmut learned it wouldn't be wise to give you his entire estate under the contingency of his death, imprisonment, or other incapacitation. There was very little that obligated you to uphold the ‘Zemo Legacy.’ Though Helmut knew they only cared about lining their own pockets.
At first, he didn’t care. But then he realized how the act of giving you his fortune would place you under public scrutiny.
The last thing he wanted was to cause you trouble, for rumors about mistresses or infidelity to fly. Marriage was completely out of the question, but a partnership... a partnership would work.
He had the paperwork faxed to him right away and had someone draw up an addition, something stating that you, by right, would inherit his assets and estate. Later he'd assemble a team of trustworthy people to assist you and ask Oeznik to guide you through everything.
He paid a fortune in expedition fees, but it was worth it in the end.
The only thing you had to do was sign.
*
By the time he found you, it was dusk. You were in one of the sitting rooms, a mug in hand as you caught up on some American show he never quite saw the appeal of. The main character was charming and savvy but the romantic subplots were repetitive and tiring.
“I’ve concluded all my business here,” Helmut told you, lingering near the door. “We can return home as soon as you like... unless you’d prefer to stay.” Helmut didn’t mind the idea of leaving you in there, in that estate.
It was large, remote, and fully staffed. You'd want for nothing living there.
“It’s been fun, but I should get back to my work soon.” You gave him a noncommittal shrug, placing down your mug down on a coster.
“I can have your supplies sent here,” He offered.
“Vacations have to end sometimes, Helmut,” you teased. “At least they do for us normal people, maybe not so much for Barons.”
He pressed his lips together in a tight smile.
“It doesn’t have to,” he insisted.
“Do you want to move?” You paused the show you were watching and sent him a wary gaze.
“Would you?”
“Well... I never thought about it. I mean...it’s been fun but I don’t think I’d want to live here. We’re miles away from... everything.” You gestured toward the window, out to vast stretches of land that seemed to go on forever. “It’s been nice to have people wait on me hand and foot but if we moved, I’d miss my friends—And I’d rather live somewhere less... remote.” You decided.
We.
Your choice of words wasn’t lost on him���your plan for the future included him. You expected him to be in your life. ‘As a friend?’ He wondered, ‘Or something different?’ Helmut opened his mouth to speak but shut it again just as quickly. He couldn’t bring himself to ask.
“I see then. I'll return you home whenever you’re ready.”
“Return me home? Is there something going on?” You ask, shifting out of the blanket you were wrapped in. You looked confused, afraid of what he might say and what it would mean for the future you hoped to have together.
“Something came up, Драга, I’ll be leaving again.” He confessed, falling back to half-truths.
“Oh.” Though your voice was a soft whisper, your disappointment hardened that simple phrase, turned it into something piercing.
“I hoped you’d consider staying here while I was away,” He continued, “but if not I’ll hire a housekeeper, someone to keep you company—”
“Where are you going?” You pressed.
“To take care of business.” Had he met your gaze then, Helmut might have broken completely.
“When will you be back?” You pressed again, a deep scowl coming across your face.
“I don’t know.” He replied softly, and silence enveloped the room.“I thought we moved past this, Helmut. Why are you keeping secrets from me?” He didn’t have an answer.
“I have no intention of receding my promise to you. You’ll be taken care of-”
“Are you coming back?” You cut him off.
Helmut could feel your gaze burning through him. And when enough time passed, he turned to face you with a heavy heart.
“I don’t know,” he finally replied. He hated himself at that moment, more than he had in a long time. Because you didn’t look angry, you didn’t even look sad, you looked as though you’d just been betrayed.
“I’m sorry,” he offered, but you weren’t interested in apologies.
The breath you released was ragged as you struggled to hold back your confusion and outrage.
“Is...is this about what happened in the garden?”
“No,” He said quickly, closing the distance between you. Helmut stood an arm's length from the couch, hoping you would understand. But you turned your gaze away.
Kneeling, Helmut cupped your face between your hands, forcing you to turn his way once again. “This isn’t about you. This is about my work. I have enemies-”
“Helmut,” you cut him off, placing your hand upon his chest, your tone softer now, pleading. “Please don’t run off again. Please don’t leave me. I'm sorry about what happened, I’m sorry I tried to kiss you-”
"Don't apologize." You offered him far more than he deserved: happiness, stability, love—a good life. But as he stared at you, gazed up into your beautiful eyes, he knew that a happy future would never come to be.
Because if he kissed you, he would never want to stop. He would stay, and he would be happy by your side. But happiness in a world without Carl, without Heike, without his Father or his friend...it was far too much to bear. He wasn’t strong enough to bear it. He would always be a broken man. And you deserved something better, something more than the shattered heart he could provide.
“I hope one day you can forgive me.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But I must fulfill my promise.”
And he left.
He didn’t answer your calls or your texts—he didn’t even open them. There was no need. When he used his phone, it was to listen to his voicemail, to hear Heike's voice.
Because what he needed was conviction, an anchor to his grief. He needed to remember what he lost, not what he chose to leave behind.
***
Helmut rises from bed and prepares for the day ahead; He cleans, shaves, and dresses before heading to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee.
There’s a subtle connection between love and cooking, one that Helmut feels as he sets about quartering one cup of strawberries and combining them with sugar and water over heat. After all, he wouldn’t make syrup for just anybody (Sam and James will have to accept whatever bottled variety of syrup you kept in the pantry.)
He then rolls up the sleeves and sets to work, mixing flour, eggs, milk, and sugar into the base of a waffle batter and pours it into the heated cask of your beloved waffle iron.
He pours a cup of coffee into a mug and takes a drink.
As the delicate aromas fill the air, he hears a quiet conversation between Sam and James grow louder as the two approach the kitchen.
“Gentleman,” Helmut greets, not bothering to turn around and meet their collective gaze. He opens the waffle iron and shuts it once more because they weren’t finished yet. He decided to give the test batch to James.
“Zemo,” Sam says first, “They found Madani—dead. She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea. We have to get moving.”
Helmut quieted for just a moment. He underestimated the severity of Madani's condition, overestimated the time he had to share with you.
“I see,” he speaks, finally turning toward the two.
Sam appears to be well-rested, but James... James looks about the same as always, tired and tense. “Riga, you say? I have a place we can go.”
“Any more surprises we should know about?” Sam asks, nodding his head toward the stairs, to the room where you still slept.
“Nothing of the sort. I’ll have the plane prepared and we can be off by noon.”
Helmut wanted to spend more time with you, but it seems he was out of time once again.
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sonnetthebard · 3 years
Note
Sypaul getting ice cream?
You know that SAF Horror Movie post that was supposed to be headcanons and I wrote it into a oneshot instead? Yeah, I'm back at it. Look, there's nothing I love more than those two wholesome gay werewolves. Genre: Fluff/ Romance Words: 2054 TL;DR: Paul and Sybilus go out to get ice cream? Is it a date? Not officially. Could it be? Very possibly. TW: There's literally none. It's all wholesome. It’s just a lot of gay panic.  ________________________________________________________
Paul sighed, walking down the streets aimlessly. He was back in Connor Creek, just for a visit. He liked to visit as often as he could- especially around the full moon. It made things a *lot* easier on him. Because even if he hadn't gone full werewolf yet, he did still experience a lot of the struggles that came around that time of month. It was good to be around other wolves- especially Desmond. And of course with the silver reserves, most of the less-than-ideal urges that came up that time of month were kept at bay. The full moon happened to be in two days, so... here he was again.
He wasn't quite sure where he was going. He was just walking, a bit bored. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he pivoted... so quickly that he fell flat on his ass. Smooth, Paul. Even worse: It was Sybilus. Sybilus, the one person he didn't want to see anything like him flat on his ass. Paul had developped feelings for Syb. He had always though Syb was cool, but... he'd started to catch himself daydreaming. He was good looking, sweet, smart, and... god, he had the coolest name! Paul hadn't meant to fall so hard, but... damn. Both men blushed at the situation they found themselves in. Paul felt bad, reacting like that. He was a bit jumpy... especially with the full moon so soon. Sybilus offered him a hand gently, and Paul took it, standing up.
"T-terribly sorry to have startled you." Sybilus blushed. "I, um..."
"Nah, my bad." Paul chuckled softly. "I'm just jumpy."
"I only meant to say hello... and ask you if you had any t-time- ah! P-p-plans?" Sybilus bit his lip nervously.
"Well... hello." Paul smirked. "And no I don't. Why?"
"I-I was thinking p-p-perhaps we could go into town." Sybilus proposed. "Not this town... the r-real city. M-m-maybe get something to eat?"
"Oh... I actually just had lunch at the Dead Canary." Paul told him. Shit. What was he doing? He actually wanted to go out with Syb.
"We could get ice cream, then. For d-dessert." Sybilus offered.
"Oh yeah! I would be so down for that!" Paul grinned.
"I only say we go into town b-b-because... I-I was going to suggest ice cream anyways. W-w-we don't have a-any real i-i-icecream places here." Sybilus sighed, walking with Paul. They now knew where they were going. To his car. "I-I would start one myself, but I'm rather busy with my other work."
"Maybe I should move here and start one." Paul thought aloud.
"Oh, Paul... y-you've got a very important job." Sybilus shook his head. "We need people like you t-t-to keep sharing the important news with the world."
"Oh yeah, but... I could podcast from up here. Drive into the city to record when I need to..." Paul theorized.
"Well... if you wanted, we could live together." Sybilus offered. "I-I mean you could live a-at my house. You're welcome."
"You know, I'm genuinely considering this." Paul chuckled, climbing into the car. "This could be fun. And it makes sense for me to be here, right? Why just... keep visiting for full moons?"
"You make a v-v-valid point..." Sybilus considered.
"Are you actually cool with me crashing with you?" Paul checked. "Because like... it makes sense, with the two of us being wolves."
"O-of course." Sybilus assured him, starting the car. "And you're right."
"Well that settles it. I'm moving to Connor Creek, running an ice cream shop, and working on my podcast from here." Paul decided.
"M-maybe you should think it over a little bit m-m-more." Sybilus chuckled, driving down the road.
"Yeah, you're right." Paul chuckled nervously.
There was silence in the car for a bit. Neither Paul nor Sybilus knew what to say. Paul had honestly just kept talking about the ice cream shop because he didn't know where to stop. It was awkward, but not tense. Overwhelmingly, if either one had been paying attention, they would have noticed the romantic tension. Both were very evidently interested in each other. But they weren't even able to look at each other with nerves. Paul tapped his fingers nervously. God, now he’d committed to *living* with Syb. He was so nervous that he couldn’t look at the guy but apparently he was going to live with him now. God, he was an idiot. Paul rested his head on his hand, looking out the window. 
“So... have you any idea w-what season three of Wayward G-guide is going to look like?” Sybilus asked. 
“No clue. Lesly hasn’t even told Artie and I that we get to do it yet.” Paul chuckled. “Who knows who it’ll go to.”
“Oh.” Sybilus frowned. “But you and Artemis did so well with it!”
“Yeah. Lesly’s weird like that.” Paul sighed. “Last I heard he’s looking for siamese twins. Who are also podcast hosts.”
“Have y-you considered podcasting independently?” Sybilus suggested. 
“I mean... kinda.” Paul shrugged. “But like... I don’t know. There’s something about Wayward Guide specifically that I just... I loved it.”
“Do you know what in specific that s-s-something might have been?” Sybilus tried to help. 
“I... not really.” Paul admitted
“Could it have been the s-story you were t-t-t-telling and not the actual podcast itself?” Sybilus pointed out. 
“You know... you could be right.” Paul realized. 
“Well... m-m-maybe you could do a podcast on the h-history or Connor Creek while you’re here. S-s-set up a little studio. My office is always rather quuiet, so you could use that.” Sybilus suggested. “M-maybe you could do a podcast on p-paranormal and s-s-supernatural histories throughout our country!”
“You know, that would be really cool.” Paul agreed. “I’ll talk to Artie about it. You know, since... we’re a pair.”
“Oh, of course!” Sybilus nodded. 
“Yeah...” Paul bit his lip. He looked to his feet. “Hey, Syb, can I ask you a kinda weird question?”
“Of course.” Sybilus assured him. 
“Is there anyone in Connor Creek who’s LGBTQ+ other than Donny?” Paul asked. Oh god. What was he doing? Where was he going with that question. How was he going to play that off? He got an idea. “I mean... just in case APN wants to use that kind of information to celebrate during Pride month.”
“Well... let’s see...” Sybilus thought aloud. “I believe that C-Crispin and Odie Doty were seeing each other before Odie’s unf-fortunate demise. Madison once brought a girlfriend to town council. They’d met at a ‘S-Small Town Law Enforcement Summit’. I always wondered what happened t-to that girlfirend- she was l-l-lovely. And, erm... I’m gay.”
“You are?” Paul started to beam. He caught himself too late, a blushing mess. Goddamnit he was giving himself away!
“Erm... yes.” Sybilus blushed. “I-I’ve never technically come out... no one really d-does in Connor Creek. You just sort of show up with a p-p-partner or two and everyone knows.”
“Huh.” Paul hummed. “I’m bi.”
“Oh.” Sybilus nodded. Paul nearly groaned at what he’d just said. He was real smooth, wasn’t he? Both drove in silence again for a moment. Sybilus pulled into a driveway. “We’re here! T-this is the ice cream shop.”
“So I can get the scoop on my competition.” Paul smirked. 
Internally, he was killing himself. Why was literally everything he was doing and saying to this man today the cringiest, most embarassing stuff in his playbook? Seriously. As far as impressions went... he was not making a good one, and he was sure of it. Well at least Sybilus was gay. He had half of a chance. Maybe if he could just calm the fuck down (or whatever it was he needed to do to stop acting like a total dumabss) he could talk Sybilus into getting dinner with him sometime... or maybe he would somehow manage to drive Syb away after he had made the first move. Paul froze. Oh god. Syb had made the first move.
“Are you okay?” Sybilus checked, already out of the car. 
“Hm? Oh, yeah!” Paul blushed, getting out. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be s-sorry.” Sybilus chuckled. “I get lost in my head sometimes too.”
“Right...” Paul sighed, walking into the ice cream shop with him. Even though it was a hot day, it was just the two of them and the teenage girl behind the counter. Sybilus walked up to the counter ahead of him, knowing how things worked there. 
“H-hello... I was h-hoping- ah! liking- ah! I-I would like two d-double scoop waffle cones please.” Sybilus stammered out. 
“Sure thing.” The perky sales attendant smiled knowingly. “What are the flavours on those scoops?”
“Y-you go first.” Sybilus blushed, looking at his feet. 
“Um... I’ll take one scoop rocky road, one scoop chocolate chip cookie dough.” Paul told her. 
She got to work scooping that. And that’s when Paul found himself doing somethign far too quickly to stop himself: he patted Sybilus’ back to comfort him. He could see how distressed the werewolf was, and... he felt bad. He shouldn’t have to be ashamed of his impediment. Both men blushed, looking to the floor. The tension was high. Paul was frozen, unsure of whether to own his actions or... retreat as fast as was humanly possible. But... he decided to own it, going further and rubbing his friend’s back. Sybilus was blushing even harder. Oh god. Had that been too much. He thought so until... a small smile creeped onto the werewolf’s face. Paul smiled back softly. What in the actual hell was going on with those two?
“Alright, here you go hon.” The attendant smirked, passing an ice cream to Paul. She turned to Sybilus. “What about you, sweetie?”
“One b-birthday cake and one cotton candy.” Sybilus told her. She scooped those two fairly easily. 
“Those ones are always so soft.” She told him, still smiling brightly. She handed him the cone. “Here you go.”
“H-how much d-do I owe you?” Sybilus asked, reaching into his pocket. 
“Those are on the house guys. Happy Pride.” The ice cream scooper winked. 
Both Sybilus and Paul blushed, looking at each other. They seemed to be silently asking each other if they let the girl do that for them. Paul shrugged as if to say ‘why no?’, and they both looked back to her. Paul smiled softly. 
“Thank you.” He sighed, taking Sybilus’ hand and walking back outside the shop. There was a little table out there, and he sat them down at that. 
“Well...” Sybilus chuckled nervoulsy. 
“Yeah.” Paul blushed, chuckling with him. 
“I suppose it would be appropriate to wish you a happy pride...” Sybilus smiled shyly at Paul. “I-I... suppose we’d make a handsome couple- o-or at least she thought so.”
“I mean, she’s not wrong...” Paul shrugged, before freezing. Him and Sybilus just stared at each other for a second, and Paul immediately felt guilty. “I am so sorry if that made you uncomfortable, it just-”
“I agree.” Sybilus cut him off. Both just stared at each other, a look of mutual realization hit them. 
“So, um... maybe she wasn’t so wrong then.” Paul tested. “Thinking we were a couple...”
“M-maybe she wasn’t.” Sybilus sighed. There was a pause. 
“So... is this a date?” Paul checked. 
“I-if you would like it to be.” Sybilus bit his lip. 
“Yeah... I think that would be great.” Paul smiled softly. 
“I-I know of a walking trail nearby i-if you would like to go- ah! W-walk for a bit.” Sybilus offered. 
“I’d love that.” Paul beamed. 
And so the two men got up and started down the road, still eating their ice creams as they went along. Paul hesitantly reached out and grabbed Sybilus’ hand, squeezing it. Sybilus blushed, looking over and him ans smiling softly, squeezing back. Paul supposed now that he had a boyfriend he’d probably have to come out to Artemis... if she didn’t already know. He was like 99% sure she was a lesbian though, so he should be fine. Twinsense... he supposed it made them both gay. He was pretty sure that he couldn’t be any happier than he was in that moment. And he was pretty sure Syb felt the same way. It must be the pride month magic, bringing them together- or maybe it was always meant to be this way. Who knows? Paul was just excited for the journey.
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a-lonely-tatertot · 3 years
Text
Finding Home
First / Wattpad / Ao3
A/N: EYOO BOIS! told ya id post it today once again betaed by the amazing incredible @bookwyrminspiration!
words: 4860
trigger warnings: none please tell me if you find any!
Chapter 8: Kindling
Sophie stood still as stone. She knew she was staring, how could she not stare? Her girlfriend’s twin was standing in the doorway of her once home. His hair longer than she remembered, the top gathered in a messy bun, strands framing his face. Then Sophie realized it wasn’t just his hair that was different, he was wearing glasses.
Rounded bottoms, flat tops, glass that flared in the setting sun. Tam with glasses was not something Sophie was prepared for and she only managed to gap. They were silver-framed, and sat at home perched on his nose; it made him look older, and Sophie didn't know if it was good or bad.
"What's takin' so long Tam?" Mari called out from inside the house. A second later she appeared in the doorway, a cheery smile on her face that Amelia knew would be gone the moment Mari saw her. Obviously, she was right. Mari's eyes landed on the girl in front of her and her entire body went rigid, her face going through a hundred different emotions in an instant before stopping abruptly on blank confusion.
Oh. Mari was standing right in front of her, close enough to touch. Close enough that she could smell the chocolate and the familiar scent of cinnamon and apples and freshly baked bread and cookies that would melt in your mouth. Oh, how Amilia just wanted to run into her arms and cry and apologize and beg for forgiveness until her voice was hoarse. But all she could do was stand, and stare, without the courage to even think of saying something.
None of the group had heard the footsteps approach, or the small gasp, too entrapped by their own hurricanes of emotion.
"Sophie?" a timid voice asked followed by a smaller, "Linh?"
Both girls’ heads snapped up to look at who’d broken the unforgiving silence; Sophie's eyes found Fitz's and both of their faces split into comical grins. Fitz pushed past Mari, hurried and uncoordinated, stumbling his way into Sophie's arms. A startled laugh escaped her lips as Fitz wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her into the air like she was light as a feather. Oh, how she had missed her Fitz.
Eventually, he set her down and ruffled her hair with a grin before glancing back to the group still standing in the doorway. His eyes landed on Linh who raised her hands up in surrender immediately. "Nuh-uh, nope, don't you dare try to hug me," Linh said, her tone playfully serious.
Tam and Sophie finally locked eyes and he gave her a look that clearly said, this is what I have to deal with all the time; pity me.
Sophie didn’t.
Fitz let out a laugh before grabbing Sophie's arm and practically dragging her inside. "Come on! We've got so much to talk about!"
Giving him a weak smile, Sophie glanced back at Mari. The woman's eyes narrowed, "Yes, we really do."
Sophie prayed silently to whoever was listening that she wouldn't be dead in a ditch by the end of the day.
Fitz had pushed his way through the doorway with Sophie in tow, the rest following slowly, not quite sure what to do.
It felt weird, seeing Fitz so at home in a place the exact opposite of where he grew up. But the way he smiled easily, told everyone to take a seat, talked with Linh—if Sophie didn't know any better she'd say he’d lived here his entire life.
"So," Sophie started. The living room was crammed, not meant for the five people and all of the tension. "Can we talk?" She directed the question at Fitz (and tried to ignore the flash of emotion on Mari's face).
Fitz luckily got the hint and nodded, motioning for her to follow him into the kitchen. Oh, the kitchen. She remembered the time that Mari tried to let her make pancakes on her own, which ended with her almost burning down the house. Or the time that she and Tommy got in a food fight while Mari and Angie desperately tried to salvage dinner—until Angie got a face full of mashed potato and it became a full-out war. She missed those days. Everything was so much easier. But then she had to go and mess it all up.
"Hey? You still there?" Fitz asked, yanking her out of her thoughts.
"Yeah, yeah, sorry," she said hurriedly. "So how'd you end up here?" She already knew part of the story, that Fitz left and Tam tagged along.
"Mostly impulse decision. Decided I wanted to be more than 'The Next Vacker' or whatever the hell I was supposed to be. So I ended up leaving; Tam caught me at the last second and came along. We ended up in Europe, and—-after a few failed attempts—learned how to drive and made our way through the place living in this weird RV that always smelled like cheese for some reason. And then somehow we ended up on a plane here, decided more road-tripping was needed. But the car broke down and Mari ended up helping us and let us stay a couple of nights."
Sophie laughed, "Yeah, that sounds like Mari."
"Wait, so how do you know her?"
"Uh. Well, you see, I kinda lived here for a year after showing up at her diner and her taking me in," Sophie said, her hands moving as if she was trying to grasp the explanation out of the air.
"YOU'RE AMELIA?" Fitz yelled, making Sophie almost squeak. "I totally thought that she was Mari's daughter."
She paused at the words. Mari talked about her like she was her daughter? Oh. Sophie felt like she could cry. From happiness or guilt; the jury was still out.
"Well, I kinda ran away? In the middle of the night without telling her? But she caught me and we fought and haven't seen each other since," Sophie mumbled.
"You and your attachment problems."
Sophie gaped at him, "OH! I'm sorry that I got pulled into a random world at 12 and then got betrayed, hurt emotionally and physically, and had the people I cared about die!"
"Yes, but you've got to let someone closer than an arms distance away sometimes," he said with a sigh.
"I have a girlfriend; she's closer than an arms distance!"
He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah I noticed that, but be honest with yourself, she’s not."
Sophie only glared at him.
"Look. You've got issues to figure out with Linh and Mari but I'm not gonna make you fix 'em," Fitz said after a beat. "But Linh and Tam definitely have issues that need to be talked about or this house is going to catch on fire-"
Sophie chuckled. Ignoring her own problems to fix someone else's. She could do that.
The tension in the room couldn't get any worse. Actually, it could, but if it did the house might've blown up. Fitz, bless his soul, seemed oblivious to everything. Asking question after question, talking to Linh, asking what Sophie was studying, and so on and so on until it got frankly exhausting to answer.
The Plan—she said plan, but it was more of a vague idea and a poorly put together execution— was to get the twins to talk and be together so that at least half of the tension would go away. But no, Fitz just had to keep fucking talking. Finally, Sophie had enough. "Suggest dinner dumbass," she eloquently texted Fitz.
When his phone went off he only rolled his eyes in her general direction.
"Why don't I make some dinner?" Fitz asked, getting murmurs of agreement that sounded like music to Sophie's ears.
"I'll help!" Sophie suggested, and Mari's face twisted into poorly concealed horror as she definitely remembered how it went the last time Sophie was in the kitchen unsupervised.
"Nuh-uh," Mari shook her head. "I'm going with; I do not trust you in there." Sophie only smiled innocently; it was all going according to plan. The twins, in almost unison, glanced at each other and back at the three, trying to find a way out. Sophie went over and kissed Linh on the cheek, squeezing her shoulder.
"Don't worry, it won’t be long and I'll come back if you need me," she whispered, trying to ignore the confused looks Tam was giving her.
"You better," Linh muttered back. Sophie gave her a reassuring smile before heading into the kitchen where Mari and Fitz were discussing what to make.
"We are not having breakfast for dinner just because it’s the only thing you know how to make!" Fitz argued playfully.
"It is not the only thing I know how to make; it’s just easy!" Mari retorted. Sophie watched the exchange as they went back and forth, finally deciding on chicken and waffles ‘cause it was sort of both; though, Sophie knew that Mari had really won the argument.
When both Mari and Fitz were distracted getting things out of pantries and cupboards, Sophie secretly reached out to Linh's familiar mind.
Yes, it was wrong; Sophie knew this, but she needed to make sure that Linh was going to be okay. Sophie needed to make sure she was going to be okay. What would happen if something happened and Sophie didn't react fast enough? What if Linh needed her and she didn't know? She said she would be there if she needed her and this was her way of being there for her.
Sophie distractedly did as she was instructed, doing the small tasks like cracking eggs and grabbing ingredients. She was not permitted, unless the world was ending, to touch the stove. Sophie only laughed, knowing that Mari was being paranoid, but it was something she had learned Mari was good at. Being paranoid gave her control, gave her all the angles, even if one of them was outrageous. Sophie tried not to think about the fact that she may have added to her paranoia with her run-away-in-the-middle-of-the-night stunt.
Quickly banishing the thought from her mind she focused on Linh's thoughts. Nothing had happened, there was a tension to Linh, a million thoughts a mile an hour running through her mind, what if after what if and quite a few cuss words.
"Soo..." Tam said.
"So," Linh responded, her tone flat, clearly guarded, but her mind was whirling like a tornado.
"We should talk." Linh internally scoffed at that.
"What's there to talk about?" Tam gave her a look of disbelief.
"There's everything to talk about!"
"You left."
Tam huffed, "You told me to!" Linh stayed quiet, and Tam stared at his hands. "You made it clear as day you didn't want me there; you still don’t want me. What the hell did I do wrong, Bubbles?"
Linh let out a heavy sigh. "That’s the problem," she whispered. "You didn't do anything. You were perfectly fine. You were fine doing the same thing for eternity. You were happy. And I went and fucked it up just because I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand being there, being so lonely-"
What are you doing, Fitz's voice rang in her head and she stumbled out of Linh's mind.
Sophie's face steeled. None of your business.
Fitz let out a huff of annoyance, similar to Tam's (she wondered if they were rubbing off on each other), but ultimately went back to work. Mari didn't question the weird interaction, but Sophie got the feeling she would be interrogated later by them separately. God, she did not need an adult, a sister, and a Fitz on her back. Couldn't she just make bad decisions in peace?
Sophie was grateful for them though. The pestering of Amy keeping her in check, in the right mind, the hugs from Fitz that seemed to never stop, and the way that Mari looked at her now, conflicted between holding her and never letting go and opening the gates that kept her anger behind bars. Sophie didn't know what she did to deserve them, especially after she fucked up time and time again, but she was grateful nonetheless.
They finished dinner in silence, except for the occasional "Can you pass me that?" or "Here let me show you how to do it." It was eerily domestic and made Sophie's heart clench, even making her forget about the tense conversation happening a wall over. But she didn't dare listen in again with Fitz watching her like a hawk, annoying in his way of knowing exactly what she was thinking and doing.
Eventually, the food was placed on platters, and Sophie used her waitress skills from many long days wasting away carrying plates and large orders to customers and brought all of the food out to the dining room.
Tam and Linh had kept their distance, the tension only a little bit more breathable. At least they weren't glaring daggers, now they were just ignoring the others’ existence. Baby steps. Fitz tailed behind her, setting the table as she carefully placed the food.
They soon all sat at the table, quietly serving themselves, not quite sure what to do with everyone else. Fitz and Tam kept on sharing glances, seeming to have a silent conversation that really got on Sophie's nerves. Sophie sat on the opposite end of the table from Mari, ignoring her prodding stares. "So," Linh cleared her throat, "what have you guys been doing since you got here?"
"Oh, nothing much," Tam responded, a harsh edge to his words.
Linh leaned forward and narrowed her eyes. "Oh come on. It’s been forever since I saw you last; you had to do something."
Sophie, for one, was not liking where this was going. The annoyed tone, the poking, the insistence, it was suffocating. She could tell, glancing at Fitz and Mari, that she wasn't the only one.
Tam gave a curt laugh. "Well, we did do a lot, I just didn't know if you would want to hear about how much, mmh what’s the word, better it was without you."
That hit a nerve.
Sophie watched in horror as Linh's face hardened and the water in her glass started to shake. Desperately, Sophie reached for her girlfriend's hand, only for it to be pushed away as Linh stood, startling the rest of the table—except for Tam? who looked like he was getting exactly what he wanted.
"You liar," Linh spat.
Tam stood up to meet her, a glint in his eyes as the setting sun's light hit his glasses, "How would you know I'm a liar, Linh? You told me you wanted to go, so I went. You disappeared at night, and you came back looking like shit. But you told me not to ask, and you said you didn't need me. And guess what? I fucking listened, cause that's what good siblings do: they listen. So when you told me to leave, I left and caught a ride with Fitz. And he did a better job at being a brother than you ever did as my sister!"
Fitz looked like he wanted to melt into a puddle. "Guys-" he tried, but when both Linh and Tam sent him a withering look he stopped. Sophie didn't know what to do; she didn't know who to help or even if she could. It was all too much.
"Fitz isn't your goddamn brother, he didn't go through the shit we did," Linh snapped.
Tam huffed, "Linh, when is it going to get through your thick skull? I'm not replacing you, I couldn't do that even if I tried. I'm waiting, I'm waiting for you to realize you're not okay, and I'm waiting for you to ask for help instead of waiting for it to fall apart in front of you." The looking on Tam's face and the way Linh's posture sagged made Sophie feel horribly out of place. That the moment was too intimate for her to see. Granted, that hadn't stopped her before, but that wasn’t the point. The point was Linh's face going through a hundred different emotions before she walked out the door without another word.
Sophie went to stand up, to go after her, to make sure she was okay—until she felt Tam's hand on her shoulder. He shook his head and smiled softly. "Let me talk to her," he said, and suddenly he looked too old to be the person she once knew. But she stayed where she was and let Tam go out the still-open door without an argument.
"What the hell was that?" Mari asked as soon as Tam left.
"They're twins," Fitz supplied.
"With emotional trauma and attachment issues," Sophie added. Mari only nodded and left it at that. The three finished up dinner without another word.
Light buzzes against Sophie's hand woke her up. She groaned in annoyance as the bright screen displayed Amy's name, knowing this was a call she shouldn't ignore. Slowly she found her way out of bed and Linh's arms, fumbling to answer the phone, anything to keep it from waking Linh up. She tiptoed down the hall, subconsciously taking the familiar path. Putting the phone to her ear, Amy's voice shrieked through the phone.
"HIII!" Amy screamed.
"You are way too awake at one in the morning," Sophie grumbled.
"I had a coffee around twelve in the morning, another an hour ago, and just chugged a Redbull," Amy explained as if nothing about this extreme amount of caffeine was concerning.
"And why, pray tell, did you do this?"
"Midterms." That explained everything perfectly. Amy was silent for a moment and Sophie spun around the room, eyes raking over the familiar scene she found herself in. A nightstand cluttered with chargers and books and random trinkets, a dresser void of any clothes, and a desk with the all too familiar pens she had collected and doodles she had etched into the smooth frame. On the bed, she found a familiar book that made her breath hitch and everything in her freeze. Against her will she was drawn towards it, opening the frayed frame displayed the first page of the scrapbook, a picture of Angie, Mari, Tommy, and Amilia outside of the diner.
Angie had given her the book the first and only Hanukkah she was there. It was during the middle of dinner, Amilia had her face stuffed with sufganiyot, and Tommy had come over. It was really a present to the both of them, knowing that neither would be getting anything from their respective families and a reminder that they would always have the home they had built. It was that night Amilia realized she had built herself a family, she had gained a brother and mothers. Her own makeshift family. But that had scared her to her core, being a part of something again. So she started to plan, and she gave into that horrible urge to run.
"Soph? Sophie are you okay?" Amy's voice tore through her thoughts like a light in the darkness.
"What if I fuck it all up again?" Sophie asks, her words shake, and she realizes her cheeks are wet from tears that had spilled over without her permission.
"You won’t."
"How do you know? What do I do when Linh finds out I've seen things I shouldn't have? That I've been keeping it from her? What do I do when Mari asks about who I was? What-"
"Stop." She stopped. "I need you to breathe," Amy spoke softly like Sophie was some wild animal. Over the next minute Amy counted while Sophie breathed, it was a routine at this point. Too many times had Amy walked in on Sophie barely holding herself. Eventually, Sophie's breathing calmed and so did the horrible buzzing of adrenaline in her system.
"I know that you're scared and that you have every right to be," Amy said finally into the empty silence. "But no matter what I will always be here with you okay? As you do everything I'm going to be here for you. No matter how much of a dumbass you are sometimes."
Sophie laughed dryly, "Thank you." She ignored how much it mirrored Linh's words on the bus.
They talked for a long time after, about anything and everything. About their friends at university to what Sophie's going to do about the boys. "It's weird, isn't it?" Sophie asked, watching the moon rise from the window from above her old bed.
"What's weird?"
"That we found each other so quickly that we all just seemed to be in the right place at the right time."
Amy was quiet for a minute, nothing but the sound of papers rustling to remind Sophie that she was still there. "Yeah, I guess it could be seen as weird. Maybe the universe was tired of seeing you guys dance around each other."
Sophie chuckled lightly and they left it at that as they jumped onto the next train of thought.
Sophie stepped out into the cold. Amy had hung up thirty minutes prior, leaving her in the dark next to Linh feeling ever so alone. She hadn't told her sister about the eavesdropping; she already knew what Amy would say. Sophie didn't need another lecture; it was too damn late for that. She ignored the guilt that had evidently arisen with the thoughts and had quietly snuck out of the living room, through the kitchen, and out the door. Eerily similar to the way she had the night she left, her brain unhelpfully reminded her. She winced at the steel in Mari’s voice, as she had told her not to be a coward stabbed deep in her heart.
She sat on the swinging bench outside, gently rocking herself back and forth on it. Her mind wandered, from how Mari did after she left, if she tried to go after her, she thought of Tommy and how he reacted, if he expected her to leave like the mystery boy he had fallen for. She sat and marveled at the stars and how clear they were. She thought of how the night, no matter how dark, never seemed to swallow her up, just sat like an old friend waiting.
Her thoughts surrounded her, infusing her so deeply she didn't hear the door creak open as Mari stepped through and cleared her throat, “Is this spot taken?”
Startled, Sophie shook her head, and her eyes found the plate that she was holding. It held her favorite dessert that Mari would make: a mini upside-down pineapple chocolate cake that never failed to make Sophie feel better.
They sat in heavy silence, staring off, avoiding looking at each other, instead of staring off into the trees, eating their respective mini cakes. Sophie didn't know how long it had been when Mari finally cleared her throat.
"I kept the stuff you left," she whispered.
"I- thank you," Sophie said even though she already knew because nothing else seemed to fit. A beat passed where Sophie grasped for something, anything to say to the woman next to her. Instead, she tore out an eyelash, reveling in the stab of pain she had become numb to.
"I thought you were done with that habit," Mari stated. So did Sophie. Until Linh showed up until the world decided to hate her once more.
"Old habits die hard," she shrugged.
Mari nodded, clearly having more important questions on her mind, "So...they call you Sophie, huh?"
Sophie's breath hitched. "Um yea," she stumbled. "It's a long story."
"We've got all night." And at that Sophie knew what the rest of the night was going to be, her spilling her guts about every fucked up thing that happened when she was a kid. She didn't even know how many laws she would break telling Mari everything but fuck it. Mari deserved to know.
"When I was five, I started to read minds," Sophie started softly. Mari didn't react, staying quiet for her to continue. So she did, and she told her everything. From before Fitz found her to when she left.
Mari was quiet the entire time Sophie talked, her face set in a mask, betraying none of her emotions, which made Sophie's entire stomach twist. By the time Sophie finished, fireflies had risen around the trees and grass around them. Their flickering lights were majestic, and Sophie wondered what it would be like to be a firefly. How simple it would be to be just one light in a million. She mulled over their similarities to stars, yet she remembered learning once how very far away each star was from another, what a lonely existence it must be.
They sat, Sophie still as a statue, Mari probably deciding that this random girl and her group of people were very very crazy. Finally, Mari cleared her throat, "You know I won't believe you without proof."
Sophie let out a harsh laugh, "If you did I would honestly be concerned about your sanity." Mari smiled small. Sophie cleared her throat, "So, uh what do you wanna see first?"
"Telepathy?" Mari asked, her face falling back into that mask counseling her. Sophie took a breath and closed her eyes.
She opened her mind to the world and reached forward for Mari. "Hello," Sophie transmitted and opened her eyes. Mari's eyes were blown wide and her mouth hung open slightly, her mask nowhere to be found. Sophie pulled out of her mind, closing her walls against the bombarding thoughts, and the world was quiet again.
"What the fuck," Mari breathed.
Sophie laughed, giggled more like. Maybe she was tired, maybe it was Mari's face, maybe she had hit her limit. She giggled till she was breathlessly holding her stomach. Mari only stared at her silently trying to gauge who the hell this kid was sitting next to her.
Arms were around Sophie before she knew what was happening, holding her, encasing her, like they were trying to protect her from the rest of the world. "What is this for?" Sophie whispered. It wasn't like she didn't appreciate it, honestly, she loved it, she missed motherly hugs and the way that Edaline would hold her at night when she couldn't sleep. Burying her head into Mari's shoulder, breathing in the smell of pineapple and chocolate and a home she missed so much.
"I am so sorry," Mari said. "For what they did to you, Soybean."
Sophie's eyes teared up at the name. She remembered when Mari told her about the nickname, they were in the diner closing up when Angie brought up the topic . For the next half an hour she’d smothered Mari in random nicknames, each one getting worse as the time went by. They were walking back when Mari asked her, and she said she was once called Soybean when the world was much easier.
They stayed there for who knows how long, in the cold, a thousand fireflies shining, and the warmth of a home Sophie always wanted around her.
"Sophie," a sing-song voice forced its way through her dreams, earning a grumble in return.
"She is impossible to wake up in the morning," another voice said.
"Hey, at least she sleeps," voice number three said.
"Sophiieeee, if you don’t wake up I am going to be forced to give you affection," the first voice spoke again; it was Linh, the more awake part of her brain supplied. Sophie only grumbled again, trying to bury herself under the covers once more. But in a blink of an eye the blanket was gone and she was curling around nothing, as hands were placed on her sides and kisses attacked her face. The fingers on her sides started to move and suddenly a bubble in her stomach popped and she was rolling with laughter trying to escape her girlfriend's tickles and kisses.
"I'm- I'm awake!" Sophie breathed between giggles.
Dimly, she registered who she thought was Amy say, "I think I'm going to barf," and Fitz agreeing with her while Mari ushered them out of the room with a fond look on her face.
Eventually, the torture stopped and both girls were breathless, but in the best way possible. "It's too early for this," Sophie said, flopping back down onto the bed. Linh giggled and the sound did something to Sophie's insides. Maybe it was love, she thought as she fought the shame that came from the secrets she kept (it’s not and she knows this, but maybe if she pretends it is, then it will be, then she'll be enough).
"Come on, love," Linh whispered, something in her eyes shining that Sophie didn't want to know. It would hurt too much to know.
Breakfast was a small affair; the tension had lessened. Much less like a nuke about to go off and more like a small bomb that would blow with the slightest move. Sophie and Mari's talk helped, and so did Amy's presence distracting the twins from each other.
It was nice, sitting, talking, fighting with no malice in their words. For once, Sophie felt like she was home. Sure it still needed healing, and work, and help, but it was still her home.
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blackhakumen · 3 years
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Mini Fanfic #848: Home Alone Together (Sonic)
8:34 p.m. at The Rabbits and Chaotix's Household's Living Room........
TV Screen: (A Masked, Musclar Figure Stares at the Screen Menacingly Before Holding Up an Roaringly Loud Chainsaw)
Vanilla: (Immediately Gets Startled While Hugging Vector's Arm For Protection)
Vector: (Chuckles Lightly at his Startled Girlfriend) Getting scary for you already, 'hon?~
Vanilla: ('Sigh') I'm afraid so, dear.... It's been so long since I've seen a horror movie before.
Vector: When was the first time you watched one?
Vanilla: Back when I was a teenager. A couple of friends convinced me to watch a horror film during her sleepover one day. I don't really remember what the movie was called at the time, but I do remember being so terrified from it that I stopped watching everything horror related ever since. Have you watched any of them growing up, Vector-Kins?
Vector: Oh I've watched plenty. I even managed to sneak out of the house once, just to see the Scissors Man on the big screen. (Crosses his Arms with a Proud Smile on his Face) Got grounded for a month afterwards, but it was pretty worth it in my eyes.
Vanilla: (Giggles Softly) Oho my!~ I never would've guess a handsome man like yourself was such a rebellious bad boy~
Vector: (Starts Snickering) Please. I wish I was I had a rebellious lifestyle in my teen years. I was more of a nerdy geek if anything. I cared more about music and detective related novels than being the talk of the school.
Vanilla: Is that so? (Smiles Brightly) Well, if that's the case, then it's a pleasure to meet a fellow geek in person.
Vector: Wait. You're a geek as well? I thought you fit more to the popular category.
Vanilla: I was to some extent. (Smiles Sheepishly) But since I focused more finishing my assigned homeworks and receiving good grades throughout the school year, I was mostly known as a "Bookworm Geek" if anything.
Vector: Cool. (Gives Vanilla a Flirty Smirk on his Face) Though, if you ask me, I never expected a former bookworm like yourself to be a very pretty lady~
Vanilla: (Giggles Softly Some More) You should speak for yourself, Mr. Nerdy Geek!~ (Gives Vector a Flirty Smirk of Her Own) You seem to be quite a catch nowadays~
Vector: (Chuckles Awkwardly While Blushing and Rubbing the Back of his Head Back and Forth) I wouldn't exactly call myself a catch or anything!~ I'm more like a decent average at best.....
Vanilla: Nonsense! (Gently Hold one of Vector's Hands) You'll be handsome crocodile to me~ It is one of the many reasons why I've fallen for you after all~ (Kiss the Top of Vector's Hand)
Vector: (Sighs While Smiling Softly) Thanks, Vanilly. So how are feeling now that you're spending the night without the kids?
Vanilla: I'm feeling a lot better about it now than I was when they first left. I still miss them though....
Vector: Yeah. I miss those rascals too....But I'm sure Silver and Blaze are looking after them just fine.
Vanilla: (Nodded in Agreement) I believe that too. But you know.....
Vector: Hm?
Vanilla: (Gives Vector a Shy, Yet Flirty Like Look on her Face) Now that it's just the two of us here, there is something I thought of us doing for the rest of the evening?~
Vector: Really now? What do you have in mind?~
Vanilla: Well....
A Few Minutes Later at the Gas Station Park in the City........
'Motorcycl
Vector: (Sitting on top of the Car's Hood With an Excited Vanilla While Watching Multiple Motorcycles Pass By) Huh. I gotta say: I honestly didn't know this whole Biker Week Event was a thing up until now....
Vanilla: (Turns to Vector with a Bright Smile on her Face) It's been a thing for a while now, dear. I believe it all started a year or two ago?.... I wanted to bring you here when it was first announced, but I figured you wouldn't be interested it at first. (Rests Her Head Onto Vector's Shoulder) So I hope this is all to your liking.
Vector: (Smiles Back at Vanilla) You kidding? I'm loving this so far. Even more so now that I know that my girlfriend's a biker herself. You ever thought about participating in this kind of thing?
Vanilla: I did at first, but I figured it would get too risky to ride along with multiple bikers all at once. So I decided not to go through it.
Vector: (Nodded in Understanding) Yeah. I get what you're saying. (Turns to See Even More Bikers Passing By) Those bikers can go real fast if they want to......But you know.....
Vanilla: Hm? What is it, Vector-Kins?
Vector: I've been thinking about this for a while now, but.....(Turns to Vanilla) You want me take you on a nightly ride on the streets one of these nights?
Vanilla: ('Gasps') You would do that for me?~
Vector: (Happily Nodded) Yeah. I mean....Granted, it has been a while since I drove my Hard Boiled anywhere and I highly doubt my skills would be nearly as good as yours, but....For you, I'm willing to give it a shoot.
Vanilla: (Heart Begins to Melt in Genuine Happiness) I'd love that very much. And don't worry about getting rusty. I'll be sure guide you every step of the way. Ooh! And I'll even get to wear my biker suit for date too. (Gives Vector a Seductive Smirk on her Face) Since I know you love the way it looks on me~
Vector: (Immediately Starts Blushing) I-I don't know what you're talking about.
Vanilla: Oh don't be like that, Vector-Kins~ You think I've haven't noticed you staring at me walking towards Bianca on our date night on Valentine's Day?~
Vector: (Gasps Loudly While Remembering that Part of the Memory Very Clearly) So you DID walk like that on purpose!!~
Vanilla: (Giggles Softly) Of course I did it on purpose, Vector!~ I onlywanted to see if I could make your heart skip a beat. My apologies~
Vector: ('Sigh') Ehhh. Don't worry about it. It's fine. I uh.... like seeing you do it anyways, so.....
Vanilla: (Giggles Once More Before Snuggling Onto Vector's Shoulder) I'm glad you like it, dear. I'll be sure to do it more often if you like~
Vector: Please?
Vanilla: Of course. (Kiss Vector's Cheek) I love you, Vector~
Vector: (Kiss the top of Vanilla's Head Before Smiling Softly) Love you too, Babe~ Love you too.
@keyenuta
@rechicken-and-waffles
@caleb13frede
@26shann
@ma-lemons
@albion-93
@cyber-wildcat
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Text
"He was my first love... And only one."
Summary:
Old photos, one old love and two not that old twins. A bit of talking after Weirmaggedon. Stan listening to his bro-bro memories about college lover.
Notes:
Please be kind to me, it's my first fanfic in English and also my first fanfic i have ever posted.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/28580418
Ford was nostalgically sorting old photoes. Wrinkled paper gently rustled in his weary hands. All those memories, forgotten things with distand feeling of lost love, whole past in his worn out hands. "Ya look sad, bro," Stan's voice broke the silence of Ford's room. His twin was looking at him with curious brown eyes covered with thick glasses. He leaned on the doorframe.
Older twin  smiled sligtly, running his polydactyl hands thru grey hairs. Fingers touched silver stripe that cut thru dark grey hairs. He felt suddenly old and exhausted. "Just... Overthinking past, i guess." He patted spot on the sofa next to himself, showing that companion is welcome.
"Pics?" asked carefully Stanley. His mind was still a bit wobbly, but he remembered nearly everything. Definitely good sign. Stan sheepishly sat next to Ford on the sofa. Old matress swayed under his weight and caused, that Ford leaned a bit agaist Stan's shoulder. "What? Oh, yeah... Pictures. Old ones." said author of the journals with sigh while his hands gently folded photos on the lap. "Hehe, 'm probably not in your colection,...  Hey that one... that guy looks cute," chuckled his brother. He pointed at picture of tall smiling boy, maybe a bit older than twenty-one. Long sand blond hair, big blue eyes brightly shining with happines were hinding partly behind small round glasses. That noodle nerd had two daysies tucked behind his ear, big smile on his face. He looked like hippie college student. "Yeah... Fantastic old friend of mine. Wait! It...He is a man. Why do you think he is cute?" suddenly asked Ford. Stan was ladies man. Why he would think something like that?! Stanley blushed. His eyes wondered over room. Now seemed every piece of furniture like super interesting. "Ehh...No comment?" "No Stanley. We should be more honest with each other. We spend enought of our time pushing each other away. I just want to know why do you think that. No judgement, only curiosity." Old man mumbled something. Then he scooted away from Ford. Scietinst seemed a bit concerned. His brother was always the one who wanted to feel the others presence, but this was different. He was suddenly so shy. Ford like physical contact too but only from persons he loved and liked. Stanley was different- he loved patting peoples shoulder, hugging them even thou they were strangers. His attention was like contact sport. And sometimes it could change into one when that person made him angry. Ford's attention thou. It was more about reading between lines. "Pardon, Lee? I didn't understand." "I said... That i dated men too," sighed Stanley. His fingers were twiching. Eyes were trying to burned thru the floor into the heart of the Earth. He made himself look tiny. Whole body curled into himself. Ford's mouth formed into small silent "oh". "'m sorry... Gonna vanish, don't worry." "Are you crazy, Lee?! No vanishing, no going away." "But..." it was strange. Stanley could brake a montain with bare hands and now... He looked so vulnurable. Like scared teen he once was- standing outside in the middle of warm spring night hoping that Ford could forgive him. "But 'm nothing just familly disapointment. Stupid big idiot and even gay..." "If you say it one more time, i will punch you. Without warning! You are not disapointment! You are my best friend i have ever had and best twin brother i could wish for!" "Poindexer, i am weird old fag!" "Probably not. And that is absolutely horrible word, do not use it, please! You did loved Carla, hm." "And some other girls..." admited Stanley with blush of embarassment. "So you are bisexual. You like both." "'m not picky type," shrugged younger brother with hint of smile. He seemed more comfortable now. Hands put on his knees, eyes still sticked to the ground but he didn't look like persone who wanted to crawl under the rock and stay there for next few milleniums. "I am fag... At least that would Pa called me... If he had knew about it..." "That explains lots of things... And highschool," mumbled Stan scooting back so they shoulders touched again. "Pardon me?!" shrieked Ford. "You were curious only about science. And why girls didn't talk to you! Nothing was about girls, only why they kept ignoring you," explained Stan. Ford blinked few times, his face making pretty good impression of confuesed owl. Stanley was smugly smiling: "I've knew the whole time that you are not straight. 'm glad that Pa never knew about it thou. He would kick ya out too, maybe beat ya...Ya would never make it out unharm, on the streets..." "You were the one that ended up there... I can not forgive myself," two big tears started to roll down. Ford tried to dry them with his sleeve. "Poindexter, let it be. We are here, we are good..." "And gay," added Ford with tiny smile. Roaring of Stan's laught filled the room: "YEAH, we are gay! SO ... Who was that cutie? First crush?" His eyebrows wiggled in devilish way. "First crush, first love and only one. He took my heart without asking and never gave it back..." His brother wrapped arm around his shoulders. "You are old sappy man, Ford." "I know. I... Everything could be so different." "What happened?" asked younger twin. He hated seeing Ford depressed. "First time he went back to his family, after a while he had one too. And later when we found each other... Portal happened." "Sixer! I ... I caused...! Did I....?" Stanford grabbed old photos. He hold them on his chest, close to his fast-beating heart. "It was my fault, we had huge arguement and split up. I should have listened to him, but i was the biggest idiot on this Earth!" Stanley suddenly gasped. "You were dating McGucket?! Old man MCGUCKET?! Oh holy hot Belgian waffles!" "Kids aren't home," snarkyly pointed out Ford still carressing his pictures. "In that case- FUCK!" Small smile crept on scientist's face. "May i tell you a story, Lee?" asked Ford. He looked way younger now. Shy blush on his cheeks, still a bit teary eyes behind glasses. But they were light up with memories. "Yep, ya nerd. I haven't heard romantic novel for a long time! Ok i saw one last night. But i want to hear yar romance," beamed happily Stan and made himsleft comfortable. He was now sprawled on sofa, legs streched infront of him, hands folded on his soft belly. "So...Tell me yar fairytale, bro-bro." "Lee you are so silly," nudged Stan's elbow Ford playfully. "Fine. Long time ago... Ok, i am really getting old and silly. We were college roomates. I liked him first time i saw him. He was true opposite of me. Emotinal, empathic, wonderfully talented. His genius was amazing. After a while we got closer and closer. Fidds was so carring, nearly motherly. You should saw him when i was ill. I phoned dad, that i needed some money... to see a doctor, cause i felt really awful. He... shouted at me- to be a man and sleep it off. So i tried it. And fainthed during one of our classes we had together. Fidds did knew what to do, he took care about me. Got me to our room, helped in bed where i stayed for next week barely knowing about world. I don't remember much, my fever was too high. All seemed like a dream. After i got better i found him sitting on the window frame. His eyes were looking into starry night, silently crying. He was aftraid about me whole week and...He finally snapped... We started dating few days later." Ford had tears on his cheeks while he hold old pictures like precious treasure. His hands were clutching them, only gems he had from his past. Someone knock on the door frame. Fiddleford Hadron Mcgucket stood there. He was dressed in jeans, silly shirt with watermelons and drinks on it. He had crazy bowler hat with daisy that kept danggling. Still with beard that could belong to the oldest wizzard in the Dungeons, Dungeons and more Dungeons, but under it was hidden smile. "I swear Stanferd, ma biggest mistake was leaving ya. And i fool made it twice!" Stanley looked at them with squint eyes trying to seem like he fall asleep. "Stop foolin' us, ya'r great conman, but that's horrible try," laugh Fidds hopping on the sofa from Ford's free side. He covered one six-fingered hand with his small one. They fitted perfectly, like two pieces of puzzles. Maybe their hands were a bit cold, but hearts were still aflame with passion and love. "I guess now i've to keep an eye on two nerds," sighed Stanley. "Have fun ya two, i am gonna go to... Don't know. Want a coffee?" "Yeah we will join you," smiled Ford when Fiddleford hugged his waist. "Yej, coffee is great idea pals!" "Gentlemen, we will have gayffee party!" clasped his big hands Stanley and went to the kitchen, chuckling because he liked that new horrible pun. Ford froze a bit and then shouted: "Do not tell this term in front of Mable! Or we all end up covered in rainbow glitters! I don't mind them but i certainly don't like to drink them with my coffee!" "WHO SAID SOMETHING ABOUT RAINBOW GLITTEEEEEERS???????!" "Mabel, calm down! Honey, put that bottle of rainbow disaster down!"
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screamsinsilver · 2 years
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via some guy on instagram
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jewel116 · 3 years
Text
Nights
Tristan made yet another sharp turn racing his motorcycle through the city of Domino. To him, there was nothing like the wind violently whipping his face while the skylights passed him like a blur. It was the only thing that relaxed him after an awfully hard day at the factory. Shaking the thought of creaky machines and heavy boxes out of his head, he turns the psychedelic music up in his Bluetooth helmet. After a few minutes, he feels his body relax and starts making random turns. When riding, he wanted to go where the wind took him. So as soon as he reached an area of the city he liked, he would click on an app that gave him a random number between one and four. Click the randomizer three times and that’s how he would choose his destination for the night.
“4, 1, 4”
“Ok, good enough for me!” He thinks to himself, making four left turns almost hitting someone. “Sorry!” he yells, even though he was in the way. One turn to the right and then four more turns to the left. “Domino Bridge. Been awhile since I’ve been around here.” It’s usually a ghost town over there after tourist season and would come when he was in a particularly bad mood or just wanted to get away from any and everything. His father pressuring him to take over the factory and all the stress that comes with that responsibility. As he expected, there was no one there except a few stragglers on the bridge. Slowing down, he takes his helmet off to take in the smell of the ocean when he sees Yugi sitting on top of the railing overlooking the beach. Tristan was never really comfortable with Yugi because of his relationship with Joey. There would always be a level of betrayal there and it seems no matter how hard he tried; he would never really fit in with that group. He would see them together twenty-four seven and when he did try to speak with them, they would speak back. But it would feel more distant, as if they were trying to hide something or hold something back. Proud and stubborn until the end, Tristan didn’t have to be told that he wasn’t welcome twice. So, he just stopped trying and was back to where he started.
Distant and alone
Shrugging it off as a loss, he looks down at his phone and uses his randomizer again. The faint sound of crying stops him in his tracks as he is about to pull off in the night. Glancing back up, tears are coming down Yugi’s face. The tiniest of smirks comes across his face when he thinks of the times, he was alone thanks in part to him. It quickly goes away when he thinks about the time, he stood up for him with that bully when he had no reason to. Pursing his lips, he mounts his bike and slowly drives up to him. Just before he reaches him, the puzzle around his neck begins to glow. Tristan knows he’s not crazy and this isn’t the first time he has seen that happen. He’s weirder every time it glows and the rumors around him get more and more crazy. He had to laugh when he heard that Yugi was the one that stopped three seniors from taking their spot in the cultural festival. But nonetheless, it was grounds for him to stop and think about turning the other way. ‘He doesn’t see me, and he can’t prove that I saw him’ Tristan thinks to himself, carefully analyzing the situation.
Purple eyes are staring back at him when he finally comes to his decision to leave him there. Taken aback, Tristan figures there is nothing to lose now and rides his bike to where he is. Looking around for something to speak about, Tristan decides that silence is the best option in this moment. Tristan just leans on the railing and watches the waves go by as Yugi starts to cry again. “You like waffles?” Tristan asks, finally breaking the silence. Confused, Yugi wipes his face and stares at him, “what?” He questions puzzled by the random question. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but food usually helps any sad situation. Especially the ones that I am thinking about.” Shrugging, Tristan stretches for a second before going back to his bike. “Come on.” He called out, ushering him to the bike. “It’s better than sitting here in the freezing cold crying by yourself? Right?” Handing him is spare helmet, “if that doesn’t work then I know something that will for sure.”
Yugi can’t explain why he, without explanation took the helmet and did exactly what he asked him to do. He had never been on a motorcycle before, especially with Tristan. Tristan was ok in his book. He didn’t dislike him, but they were not close to each other, more just friends of friends. After Joey straightened him out about bothering him, he became more and more distant until it seems that he and Joey never talked at all. Yugi tried not to get involved in that because he felt a little guilty for breaking them up. No matter how many times Joey tried to convince him of otherwise, he knew that he was the rift between the two of them. Maybe that was better or worse, but Yugi knew it wasn’t his place to say anything. “Hang on, sometimes I ride a little fast”. Tightening his grip around Tristan’s waist, Yugi is thrusted backwards when Tristan revs the bike.
Weaving through the narrow space between cars at the speed they were going was enough to make Yugi laugh through his helmet. “Faster!” He screams, losing his grip on Tristan, “Not too much faster! You don’t want motion sickness” Tristan chuckled, looking back at Yugi who is waving his hands in the air. He has no choice but to smile because he remembers when brother took him for a ride on his bike for the first time. It’s a feeling that you never forget, no matter how long you have been riding. “Hang on tight!” He orders, before lifting the bike on one wheel going the same speed. “Woo!!!” Yugi screams from behind him. “Having fun?!” Tristan screamed through the sound of engine, slowing down before motion sickness kicks in. “Woo!!” Yugi says again looking around at all the buildings and lights. “Totally! We have about another two hours, so get comfortable” “Two hours?” “You don’t have anywhere to go do you?” “No, I don’t but…” Yugi pauses before answering. “Don’t you have a curfew or something?” “Hell no. As long as I pay my dues at the factory, never show up late and do my work. My father doesn’t care what I do.” Yugi just nods and leans forward, resting his head on Tristan’s shoulder. “You’re adrenaline’s wearing off, isn’t it?” Feeling his eyes get heavy, Yugi’s grip on Tristan lessens again. Grabbing Yugi’s hands, he secures them around his waist, so he doesn’t have to drop his speed.
“Get a nap, I’ll wake you up when we are there.”
“Wake up, we’re here” Tristan announces, lightly shaking his shoulder. “Onoki’s. One of the oldest hole in the wall diners in Japan. Not to mention, the best waffles!” Tristan explains, catching Yugi before he trips over the bike rack next to them. “You sure it’s ok to leave your bike out here? It’s pretty deserted out here.” “Yea, Onoki knows me and the bike so it’s fine. Take this before you go in.” Poking the tiny white pill from its silver package, “it’s so you don’t feel sicker later on.” Holding his hand out, Yugi takes the pill and the bottle of water Tristan offered. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome.”
The grease sizzling on the frying pans and plates slamming on the linoleum tables is about the only sound you can here in the place. Founded in 1975, the owner Onoki took a trip to America and after he had a taste of their secret waffle recipe; he never looked back. After begging and wrestling with the owner over the recipe. Even going so far as to attempt to break into the man’s house for it, Onoki came back to Japan; opened his place and has been in business ever since. Sliding into one of the silver and red booth, slightly warm from the last patron; Tristan waves over one of the waitress. “Miss, when you are ready, we are too.” Sucking her teeth, the tiny waitress sighs and grabs one of the plastic menus and makes her way to them. Checking his bank account, he grabs his leather wallet and pulls out a fifty. Tristan would always have to deal with waitresses like this when he was working as a waiter. But usually when they had an attitude, the customers would feel it and he would have to pick up the slack when the customers wouldn’t leave tips or never come back.
“What do you want?” She spits, rolling her eyes with her hands on her hips. They messed up her vibe with the cook and she was not too happy. “We want waffles, hash browns extra crispy, lots of butter packs, bacon, eggs, the toast that comes with it and a huge pot of coffee. Oh, and please don’t forget the creams and sugars as well”. He asks as politely as he possibly can, waving the fifty between his fingers so she can see it. “All for my new favorite waitress, if you can get it to us in less than ten minutes.” The grin returns to her face as if the cook didn’t exist. “Coming right up!” The curvy girl shrieks, knowing that’s going to be her best tip of the night. “How do you do that?” Yugi whispers, clutching his head in his hands. “Do what?” Tristan questions, glancing around at the many photos on the wall. Some dated, some newer with musicians, guitarist mainly and some other well-known celebrities. “Get people to do what you want like that?” Scoffing, he leans back in his seat. “I’ve been a waiter on the side for a while and on nights like this, all people want to do is groove and be anywhere but work. I get where she was coming from. It’s no big deal.”
“Order up!” the waitress chimes, straightening her bright-green skit. Tristan clicks the power button on his phone. “Nine minutes. Perfect.” Sliding the fifty towards her, she snatches it before he has the chance to change his mind. “Holler if you need anything.” Her chocolate brown eyes are tracing Tristan’s body up and down, loving what she sees. “Will do.” Tristan nods, winking at her before she leaves. “She just wants another tip Yugi, you see how she was just looking at me.” Tristan leans forward and whispers. “Oh! This looks amazing!” The huge waffle with Onoki’s logo written across the middle was enough to make Tristan’s mouth water. When he first came across this place, he didn’t believe the hype that everyone was making about these waffles. The patrons laughed and made sure to record the moment on their cellphones. “Ring the bell! Ring the bell!!” They chant to him. The bell meant that someone had just been made a believer of the waffle. Peeling the packet of butter, Tristan starts to go to work when he notices that Yugi still has his head on the table.
“Not to get in your business or anything but aren’t you diabetic? Motion sickness and that are not a good combo. Just saying.” Yugi shoots a look towards him in pure shock. There should be only a handful of people that know that. “How do you know…” “For someone so small, you speak loudly. I overheard you teaching Joey how to give you the needle if he needed to. There was something about a pump too, but I walked away after that.” Shoving a forkful of waffles in his mouth but trying not to laugh at Yugi’s face, pours a cup of hot coffee and slides it towards him. “Drink something at least.” Staring at the cup, Yugi sits up a little and glances down at his side. Tristan can’t see for sure but assumes it’s his insulin pump he’s staring at. Shrugging it off, Tristan reaches into his backpack to pull out his manga. He didn’t know what Yugi’s problem was or what was possessing him to stay here with Yugi on his night ride. But he was not going to do was sit there and talk to himself.
“Is that Oishi?” Yugi beamed, filling the cup with hazelnut creamer and one sugar. “Yea, what’s it to you?” Shifting uncomfortably in the booth, Tristan usually keeps his personal tastes of manga to himself. “I love that manga! The food always looks amazing, and Hiro always has the craziest recipes!” “I finally managed to make the lemon breakfast cake with the homemade frosting for it! It took me two tries because it was too tangy for me, but I finally got it the way I wanted it.” He’s been cooking ever since he could remember. His mother figured that if he wanted to be a good husband, then he needed to know how to properly take care of a woman other than physical needs. “Did you try and make it in the kitchen lab?” Now it was Tristan’s turn to be surprised. “Yea...” “I thought that was you. I was doing some late-night studying and usually I get one of the cookies that are left in there for me. Then I saw you staring at one of the iPads for the recipe.” Tristan has been using that lab for the last year now. When he needs to avoid the stares and rumors from his classmates, Tristan goes to the lab. At first, he was sneaking in there during lunch hours. But he was caught by their teacher who was experimenting with a recipe he was going to use later in the year.
Mr. Sato explained that he was once young and similar to Tristan. So, he made him a deal. If Tristan could successfully prepare whatever dish that was placed in front of him; he would not only be able to use the lab. But could get an extra copy of the key so he could use it whenever he wanted. As far as Mr. Sato was concerned, it would be better for him to be in school versus out in the streets like he previously was. Tristan wasn’t given the fair shake that his classmate was given, and he was sympathetic to that.
“The mint chocolate chunk cookies on the red rimmed plate?” Sinking in his chair, Yugi shakes his head with a small grin working its way to his face. “Yes, that’s that very plate. You’ve been making those for me? Making the notes with it to?” Hiding his blush, Tristan turns his attention to the window and the partygoers stumbling to get to the nearest afterparty. “I didn’t make them for you. I made them for whoever wanted it. Didn’t know it was you” He snarls at Yugi. “I understand Tristan” raising his eyebrow up at him. He would never say it but those encouraging notes really helped him when he first completed the puzzle. There were moments when Yugi would lose significant blocks of memory and time. Suddenly, people would look at him as if he were a danger to them or as if he wronged them somehow.
Gaming and studying were the only two things that got his mind off of that. His new friends were a huge help for him but sometimes, all he needed was equations and games to ease his troubles. One night, when he was walking down the narrow halls of the school, the moonlight illuminating the hallway; he was starving. The small of fresh chocolate chips stopped him in his trackers, leading him to the source. Twisting the gold doorknob slowly, he pokes his head through the door. ‘So far so good’ he thinks to himself, pushing the door further in. Flipping the white switch, warm lights bring the room to life. The kitchen lab was one of the oldest rooms in the school that was next on the list to be remodeled. Three white, well-loved ovens were lined up against the wall side by side with cabinets, sinks and drawers around each one. Sewing machines along with many sheets of fabric around each one is on the other side of room just below a twenty-inch tv. Sitting next to Yugi was a plate of cookies with a crumpled piece of notebook paper under it.
“Don’t study too hard or next time there will not be any cookies.” Yugi folds the note and puts it in his right pocket. “Wonder who left these?” Shrugging, he reaches for one of the cookies and takes a small but tentative bite. When that chocolate and his taste buds collide, he has no choice but to go for seconds and eventually thirds. “These are amazing! Tastes professional!” Yugi grabs the plate and closes the door behind him, shutting the light off. Little did he know, leaving Tristan in the dark in the orange supply closet where the teachers kept the knifes and older pans and tins. “Look, you look like you are done and doing better now. I know a place where you can get the latest Oishi if you want? It’s not too far from here and we can spend the night. Blankets, cots and even a change of clothes if you want. You down?” Tristan asserts, rising from his seat after finishing his plate.
“Yes.” There he goes again, saying yes to this kid without even thinking about it. He doesn’t know Tristan and knows that he doesn’t like him. Tristan could be trying to set him up for something bad. Yugi’s heart tells him otherwise, however. His heart is telling him that Tristan might be…rough around the edges but he’s not a horrible person. He wouldn’t have defended him in the past if he felt that he was anything other than that. “I’ll show you a series just like that and maybe some others too while we are over here. You’ll love it” Tristan says with more energy than before, feeling excited to show something he loves to someone else.
Flashing, multicolored lights are shining in Yugi’s face as he reads the sign above them. “Bonsai” “Yep! They have a new net room which is so much bigger than the booths that they usually have. I mean don’t get me wrong, it does the job. But I want to get really comfortable, especially since my eyes start to get sore after about the fifteenth manga.” Following the taller teen, he notices a sign for a strip theater next door. “I’ve been to that, and I’ve actually seen better. The skyrise parties are the best of the best. Even have a few celebrities there once in a while. I’ll have to take you sometime if you interested.” Tristan explains, ushering him to follow him up the green carpeted stairs to the lobby. A pale, young woman wearing a navy-blue dress with the Bonsai name tag looked up when she heard the door swing open. “Hey Akemi!” Tristan smiles and greets when he sees her. Akemi knew that Tristan was a regular and tipped well when he was there. It wasn’t until he protected her from three guys that tried to attack her during one of her shifts, that she decided to look out for him. Pulling out his membership card, Akemi waves her hand at him. “Don’t worry about it! Enjoy your night!” She does a double take when she sees Yugi by his side and giggles. “Akemi! Get your mind out of the gutter.” “I did not say anything!” She teases, sitting back down on her stool. “I felt it. It was all in your mind!” He replies, waving at her for a final time. “Don’t mind her Yugi, she always does me like this.” Tristan explains, “Always accusing me of something!” Making sure she heard that last part, Tristan adds a tip to her account on his phone app.
Yugi nods his head at the woman, who blushes when Tristan isn’t looking at her. Leading him through the corridors of the room, Yugi can’t help but think this is a hotel versus a manga café. “Feels like we are at a hotel and not a café.” Yugi commented when he saw the shower signs and blanket compartments outside of each room. “That’s because in a way it is. It’s pretty new and is really for travelers who want to save some money. The booths were ok for just a few hours but now that I’m here more often because of their new shipment of books, it’s worth staying a night or two to enjoy them.” Yugi couldn’t help but agree. The chairs were soft enough but for the amount of time he spent reading, he needed something softer for his back. “The one I went to had an open bar and hookah in the very back for older guests.” “Really? I need to go to that one…. Have you ever had a drink?” Yugi shakes his head blushing, looking down at the signs on the grey hardwood floors. “It’s cool. Let me know if you ever want to go out like that. I can get you a good fake id and they will none the wiser. Cost about two hundred but I can get it to you for half.” Smiling, Yugi can’t help but think about the kind of trouble this kid must get into all the time. He just casually speaks about fake id’s and running off to who knows whereas if he is talking about a bright, sunny day. “Tell me, why are you trying to help me? I know you don’t really like me that much.”
Surprised that Yugi of all people is getting straight to the point, he stops where he is. “The truth is that I really don’t know. You’re right, I don’t really like you because you took my only friend from me. But when I saw you crying, something in my spirit told me to try and help you. I took you here because it seems like we are into some of the same things. Remember, though, you chose to follow me. You could have gotten a bus and gotten home but yet you are still following me. Why is that?” Yugi remains silent and walks shoulder to shoulder with him.
“Because my spirit said the same thing.”
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steves-on-a-plane · 4 years
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Waiting For You
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Words: 1597 Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Timeline: Not Specific Request: “Omg u are taking requests? Can you write something about Bucky being readers boyfriend and she is just waiting for him to propose they have been together for yearssss and yearsss.” - Anon Summary: Bucky and Reader have been dating for seven years, but after dropping hints about wanting to get married for nearly a decade, Reader has finally accepted that it may not be in the cards for her and Buck. 
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You’d  tried dropping hints over the seven plus years that you’d been dating Bucky. They were subtle at first. One time you left a stack of bridal magazines on the coffee table for a week to see if he said anything. Another time You started a conversation asking about which two colors he thought went best together. But over time the hints got less subtle. You talked about how nice your sister’s wedding was and how you couldn’t wait for your own special day. You’d read your friend’s Facebook posts aloud and talk about how they all seemed to be having kids. Every attempt seemed to go unnoticed.
“What are we watching tonight?” Bucky yawned as he snuggled up close to you on the couch. It was time for your weekly movie night and it was your turn to pick the movie.
“Twlight; New Moon.” You said pressing play on the remote. You draped a blanket across you and Bucky as movie started.
“The vampire movie?” Bucky sighed. “Didn’t we watch already?”
“Not this one.” You laughed. “There’s five of them.”
“Five!” Bucky complained. Alright well what happens in this one?”
“You’d know if you stopped talking.” You scolded him. You yawned and leaned against Bucky, your head resting on his chest. After only ten minutes Bucky had more questions.
“So Bella’s upset because she’s getting older and Edward is not? The dude’s 109!” Bucky exclaims pointing at the TV. He starts playing with a lock of your hair, twirling the strand around one of his fingers.
“But he looks seventeen.” You pointed out.
“That dude does not look seventeen!” Bucky argues. “Where’s my phone? I’m gonna Google how old this guy was.” Bucky strained to reach for his phone that was resting far away on the coffee table. He couldn’t quite reach with you laying on him. You handed him your phone without taking your eyes off the screen. “Ah-ha! I knew it!” He remarked a half-second later. “My dude was twenty-three when this movie was made.”
“Okay, but that’s not the point.” You sighed. “From Bella’s perspective, Edward doesn’t want to change her into a vampire at all. She’s thinks he is just going to stay with her until he she is too old for him and then he’d leave and move on. For Bella, it’s only ever going to be Edward, but she’s afraid that she will only ever be an insignificant blip in his life.”
“Why would she think that?” Bucky asked.
“Well, you’re missing the entire set up to the plot.” You whispered to him. “So please be quiet.”
As the movie played on Bucky eventually settled down and watched the movie. You were tired from the long day you’d had. You felt your eyelids grow heavy around the half-hour mark. You struggled to stay awake at first, New Moon was your favorite of the Twilight movies. But the security and warmth from being held in Bucky’s arms had you drifting off to sleep.
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Two months past and you’d all but forgotten about that night. Your movie marathon had moved on from the Twilight saga and onto Harry Potter.  You’d given up on dropping even completely obvious hints about getting married too. You’d been together for seven years, at this point either Bucky was going to propose to you or her wasn’t. You were through with trying to force it to happen. It was the morning of your birthday and Bucky surprised you with breakfast in bed.
“Eat up!” He instructed. “I’ve got a full day of activities planned for us!”
“What kind of activities?” You asked, offering him a waffle.
“I already ate.” He waved the food off. He sat on the bed next to and leaned back on his pillow. He kicked his feet up and started listing off activities. “Let’s see, Breakfast in bed was first on the list, so check. Then I was thinking you might enjoy kicking my butt at a few rounds of Luigi kart…”
“It’s Mario Kart.” You snorted, trying not to choke on your food.
“Yeah, but I like Luigi better and there aren’t enough games named after him.” Bucky told you.  “So, we’re a Luigi Cart family in this house.”
“Okay.” You humored him. “And what are our plans after Luigi Cart?” ‘”I thought maybe we could go to the mall, do some shopping and eat at that restaurant you’re always trying to get me to go to but it’s closed on Sundays.”
“I can’t help it that the Chick-Fil-A curse means I only crave it on Sundays!” You exclaimed.
“Then after that I thought we could just come home and relax and snuggle. It’s been awhile since we’re spent the day just the two of us together.” He said.
“That sounds great, Bucky.” You agreed.
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The day went mostly as Bucky described. You played Mario Kart for about two hours before heading to the mall. At the mall, Bucky was great about letting you drag him through all of your favorite stores. With your boyfriend’s arms weighed down with shopping bags, you took a break for lunch at Chik-Fil-a. A fast food restaurant that Bucky usually told you charged way too much for a food as cheap as chicken. Once you were all shopped out, Bucky drove you home.
“Just leave the bags in the car.” Bucky told you as he stepped out of the car. “I’ll cary them in later. I wouldn’t want my gal to lift a finger on her special day.” Bucky swoops in and kisses you before putting an arm around your shoulder.
“So movie night next?” You asked.
“Sure.” Bucky nodded. “But first, close your eyes.”
“Close my eyes? Why would I…”
“Humor me, please?” He asked.
“Alright.” You squeezed your eyes shut and let Bucky guide you into the house.
“SURPRISE!” You opened your eyes to see that Bucky had secretly put together a surprise party for your birthday. The house was decorated with streamers and balloons in lilac, your favorite color. There was a large six tire cake on display in the dining room, it too had lilac colored frosting and all of your friends were there, ready to celebrate the day with you.
“Wow! Thank you everyone!” You reached out and held Bucky’s hand. Parties or large gatherings weren’t really his thing so it meant a lot to you that he was willing to endure such a stressful envirement just for your birthday. “Thank you for putting this together.” You said, kissing him on the cheek.
“This is just the beginning, Babe.” Buck promised. “You guys hungry?” Bucky asks the crowd of Avengers around you. They reply with encouraging “Whoop-Whoop!”s and “Yeah!”s.
“We just ate lunch.” You frowned. “I don’t know how much more I can eat.”
“We’ll start with dessert then.” He said leading you into the dinning room. Bucky instructs everyone to gather around the table and with Steve’s help he removed the top layer of the cake. It is the smallest and probably only about four servings of cake.
“Do you remember a few months ago when we watched all of the Twilight movies?” He asked you. You nodded in response. “Well, those movies really got me thinking about something. Most of my adult life I’ve only ever seen myself as a monster. I thought I was destinted to be damned and I sure as hell didn’t think I’d ever catch the eye of a dame half as great as you.” Bucky reach out so that he was holding both of your hands in his. You were facing each other and looking directly into each others eyes.
“In a hundred life times, I’ll never understand how anyone so amazing could love me.” He continued. “And I don’t ever want my anxiety to get in the way of loving you. I don’t want to risk losing you because I was too afraid to let you know how I really feel. Happy Birthday [Y/N].” He sealed the birthday wish with a kiss.
“Thank you, Buck. No candles?” You teased him as you sized up the beautifully decorated but candle-less cake. Bucky didn’t comment as he handed you an ornamental cake knife. “Did you buy a cake knife just for this?” You asked him.
“It’s ours!” Clint shouted from where he stood in the back of the dining room with one arm holding his wife Laura close to him. “Think of it as something borrowed.” He told you cryptically. Holding the cake knife carefully you cut into the cake. You cut a small quarter out of the cake and slid the wedge out.
“I need a plate.” You laughed, completely missing the small silver object glistening inside the cake. “And a fork.” You added as Steve held up an empty plate to you.
“We’ll get you a fork later.” Bucky said. He takes the plate out of your hands and set the piece aside. “This wasn’t how I thought this was going to go but…” Bucky stuck his fingers inside the cake and seemed to dig something out of it. You couldn’t help but gasp when he produced a silver ring with a sapphire set atop it. “Something new, and blue.” He commened before lowing himself to the ground. “[Y/N] [Y/L/N], I’m sorry I made you wait so long, but will you make me the happiest mna on the planet and marry me?”
“I literally thought you would never ask.” You told him. You dropped down onto the ground so that you were kneeling next to him and threw your arms around his neck.
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An Analogical Christmas
Merry Christmas, Circuit. <3 I love you dude, thanks for the fun times we’ve had together. 
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So as you all know, it is now Christmas. And for my lovely friend @short-circut, I wrote a fluffy little Christmas oneshot for Analogical. 
Enjoy.
___
It was 5 am. Logan stood over his and Virgil’s bed, holding his phone and squinting at the message he’d left himself on there. It was something Virgil had told him some time ago, something about how his Christmases had used to be when he was a kid--back before his life had spiraled, and they had met, and their new life had begun in the ashes of the old. Such a long time ago but…Logan remembered. He always did.
A tired blue light shone on his face as he read over the note again.
They always had the Christmas tree all strung up in the corner of the living room, with the lights on so that it was the first thing me and my brothers saw when we came downstairs. Each of us had a special ornament with our name on it, and we could hang it wherever we wanted.
On Christmas morning when we came downstairs my mom and pop would have cookies and cocoa waiting for us—it was the only time we were ever allowed to eat in the living room, and the only time we could eat that kinda junk so early in the morning. We’d watch a movie together, and then my mom would have us open the presents. We’d play in the snow…
Logan knew how impossible it would be to recreate all of that perfectly, but he remembered the details Virgil had told him so vividly for a reason—he knew he hadn’t imagined the sharp bittersweet look on Virgil’s face as he recounted the memories, memories that were clearly something very special and happy to him. And while his husband’s situation was worlds away from what it had been this year, Logan still wanted to be able to make this day special for his husband.
Which brought him back to why he was desperately trying to wake himself up as he quietly pulled a tree into the house from the garage—it wasn’t real, he hadn’t been able to get one of those, but he thought it would do—setting it up as carefully and silently as he could in the corner of the living room. He and Virgil had both been so stressed that neither had thought much about Christmas this year...at least, that was how it had been until a week ago, when they’d shared old memories and Virgil’s Christmas ones had tumbled from him in a messy sort of sadness and happiness, and Logan had made his mind up—he was going to make his Star a special surprise for this Christmas…something that, he hoped, could make Virgil smile.
It was 3am. Virgil was stressed, Logan was tired, and somehow they’d both found themselves downstairs with mugs of hot chocolate in their hands. Logan had looked at Virgil with a chocolate moustache he didn’t know was there, and when his husband saw it he smiled; then laughed.
Everyone deserved to smile on Christmas. And with the year the couple had had this time around, with its rough spots and hard times and too much stress, Logan felt that Virgil especially deserved it. And while he was no master of emotions, he would do anything to make his Star smile. Anything.
It took some digging around, but after a bit of searching Logan unearthed an old box of ornaments and cautiously brought it to the living room. He took out a blue and a purple one and set those aside, then got to work setting up the tree. It wasn’t large and Logan had never claimed to be much of a decorator…but he did his best to set the display up in what he thought was a pleasing array of lights, ornaments, and a silver garland to complete the look.
It was raining. Logan gripped the steering wheel in his hands as water splattered over the windshield, maneuvering their car as best he could over the wet streets. Their town’s lights shone through the raindrops on the windshield in a golden wash of light, illuminating a sleeping Virgil who’d curled up in the passenger’s seat. Logan felt his irritation and stress melt away at the peaceful look on his face, and how beautiful he was in the golden light that swept over his soft patch hoodie…he looked like an angel, he’d thought.
Next, Logan moved on to the kitchen. There he meticulously followed a recipe for molasses cookies—Virgil’s favorite, he’d learned not long after the two started dating. Neither of them were a fan of the usual decorated sugar cookies, and though Virgil had described those as being part of his childhood memories Logan thought he might appreciate these more…he hoped he was right about that.
Laughter. So much laughter; the kind that made tears stream from your eyes and your stomach hurt from it all. Patton, covered in flour and Virgil no less affected, both of them staring at each other with wide eyes and clothes covered in white powder. They’d been baking a cake for Roman’s birthday, and had turned on the mixer too fast. The kitchen was a mess, and Logan just couldn’t stop laughing. Soon the other two joined in, and then they all collapsed to the floor, snickering and giggling until they looked at each other and it all started up again.
Logan moved with a deathly quiet as he got everything set up—Virgil was a notoriously light sleeper, and the slightest sound could awaken him and ruin the whole thing, so he had to be as careful as possible getting everything ready. Luckily however Logan was experienced in such things—both in committing to his late-night wanderings without waking his husband, and without being much of a loud sort in general.
The lamp was on. And though it was the time of night when anybody with an ounce of sanity was unconscious, they were both awake. Logan, who read from a book about space aloud to Virgil, who’d had a nightmare. He leaned against Logan’s shoulder, eyes closed while his hands shook and Logan read; read on in a gentle, steady voice. And soon, Virgil had fallen to sleep again, and Logan let him lean against him. He’d let his husband sleep while he could.
It was now approaching 7am. Logan set out the still-warm cookies on the table, plugged in the tree, and wrapped up the peppermint/hot chocolate/coffee concoction he’d created (Virgil’s favorite) to leave in the fridge until the proper time came to heat it up. He pulled a few small gifts he’d been saving and ever-so carefully wrapped them, placing them gently under the tree before retiring back to bed.
Upon returning to their room Logan saw that his mission had been a success—Virgil had hardly stirred since he disappeared, and only mumbled something about waffles before shifting over as Logan rejoined him.
Success.
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A few hours later, something nudged him awake.
“Mmm, Logan.” Logan opened his eyes to see Virgil leaning over him, a tired lopsided grin plastered on his face. “Morning. Merry Chris’mas.” Logan allowed himself to smile at his husband and sat up, letting Virgil draw him into a hug. The soft material of his purple sweater was soft, and gentle, and Logan closed his eyes as he rested his cheek on Virgil’s shoulder.
“I love you, Star,” he whispered.
“I love you too.” Virgil got up and started towards the door, not bothering to change out of his black-and-white skeleton pajama pants. Logan followed him; keeping his face neutral so as not to give away the surprise. His husband rubbed at his eyes as he stepped out into the hallway…
And stopped.
“Logan?” Virgil whispered, staring at the staircase in shock as he saw what was behind it. “Is that…is that a tree? Did…did you…” Logan walked up beside him and smiled a little, watching Virgil as he nearly ran down the stairs to the living room. His jaw dropped at the sight of the Christmas tree before him and he froze for a moment, slowly taking the scene in.
“I…I don’t know what to say,” he whispered after a long moment, turning to Logan with tears in his eyes. “I can’t believe you remembered…this is amazing, Logan.”
“Merry Christmas,” Logan told him, and Virgil rushed into his arms with a quiet, choked thank you. He could only nod; he wasn’t sure how long they stood there, just holding each other, but he couldn’t have been happier about it. He couldn’t have been happier to see Virgil looking so delighted to see his memories come to life, to know that he’d done something good…and while he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit it, it made him feel good too.
Virgil suddenly sniffed at the air, and his eyes widened.
“Are those…are those molasses cookies?” he whispered incredulously, looking down at the plate he hadn’t noticed before.
“Indeed they are. I also made you some hot chocolate…” Logan disappeared into the kitchen, and came back a few minutes later with two steaming mugs, one of which he passed off to his husband. Virgil slowly sank down onto the sofa as he looked at the hot chocolate in his hands, not bothering to wipe away the tears that quietly slipped down his cheeks at the sight.
“Is everything okay, Virgil?” Logan asked, frowning a little. His husband gave him a watery smile.
“More than okay,” he whispered. “So much more than okay…”
“I also…I believe that this was a part of your tradition, as well?” Logan hesitantly pulled out the two ornaments he’d set aside earlier, one with the name Virgil and the other with the name Logan painted on it in perfectly neat letters. Virgil let out a soft gasp as he saw the them, gingerly taking his ornament and staring at it. Another tear slid down his cheek, and he smiled.
“Oh my god…you remembered all of it...” he looked at Logan with shining eyes and then took both of the ornaments, standing up and hanging them next to each other on the tree. Then he came back, curling up against Logan and they both watched the snow fall outside the window.
For a long time, they were both quiet. Each of them enjoyed the silence, taking the time to appreciate it with their cookies and hot chocolate. Virgil stared out the window, and Logan noted after some time that his eyes were distant; remembering.
Then, Virgil started to hum. It was a familiar tune, the kind you recognized immediately and the kind that got played way too often in shopping malls around Christmastime. But here…here, in their quiet, little house curled up next to each other, watching the snow fall…
It was beautiful.
Then Virgil started to sing.
Silent Night, Holy Night
All was calm, all was bright,
At first Logan was too shocked to do anything but stare at his husband in an awed silence, amazed once again by the incredible singing voice of Virgil that he so rarely heard. But then the tune wrapped him in its sweet embrace, and he felt himself joining in as the last part of the verse came around.
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.
The two stopped as the song ended, then slowly turned and looked at each other. Virgil smiled at Logan, the little half-smile that he loved so much, and then hugged him.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for bringing me back.”
Logan pressed a butterfly-light kiss to his forehead.
 And there they stayed for a long time, curled into each other’s sides, watching the snow fall. Enjoying the silence; enjoying each other; enjoying their memories.
Because really, when you had with you the person you loved most in the world, nothing else really mattered.
 Merry Christmas everybody.
93 notes · View notes
6rookie-writer0110 · 5 years
Text
Different earths same parents
Leonard Snart x Barry Allen x Male Reader Son
Request- Coldflash x male reader where the reader is their kid from another earth that gets stuck on earth prime and naturally goes to his dads for help?
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Earth - 43
Snart used his ice powers to slow down the vampires. You used your speed to help your father. You start to fight against the blood league they are too many, you grabbed your dad and ran. But Clark is using his speed to catch up to you. Barry arrived and used lighting punch to hit Clark.
You and your fathers went to the hideout.
”Dad! You are okay!” You said with joy.
You hugged Barry and he hugged you back.
”Are you okay?” Barry asked.
”Yeah. We tried to stop them but we couldn't” You said.
”Mick didn't make it now he is one of them,” Snart said.
”I’m sorry. What about the rest of the legends?” Barry said.
”All of them,” Snart said.
The room became silent.
”Y/N you can't stay here. You must go to another earth so you can be safe” Snart said.
”No. I will stay and help, I can do please let me help” You begged.
”Hasn't been long since you for your new powers Ice. You don't know how to control speed and ice. We don't want to lose you and we want you to be safe” Barry said.
Your eyes start to become glossy and you are trying to hold in your tears.
”Y/N, we don't want you to become like them. We have a plan and we will defeat them” Snart said.
”Dad, please let me stay and help,” You said.
Barry took out the portal device.
”Take this and go to another earth where it's safe. We love you and we will always be a family” Barry said.
”We talked about this and it's hard for us too. But we can't lose you. We will rather you have you somewhere else to be safe. Go before they come for us” Snart said.
Tears go down your cheeks. Your fathers hugged you and you hugged them tightly. The blood league has arrived and Barry turned on the device.
”I love you, dad,” You said to them.
Robin tried to jump on you but the portal sucked you in and Robin missed.
”Ready?” Barry asked.
”Always,” Snart said.
”You two are pathetic. You and your husband will join us” Bruce said.
”We will see about that” Snart said.
Barry and Snart start to fight together against the blood league.
-----------
Earth- 1
You fell out of the portal and hit the ground hard. The device your father gave you is broken into little pieces.
”Crap” You mumbled.
People are walking by and they are looking at you. You stand up and picked up all the pieces but you didn't notice the main powers source for the device, is under the car.
You are wearing the flash suit but your colors are silver, blue lining, and the flash symbol is blue also. You pulled down the goggles, your father Snart gave you.
You look around and it's like being home except its not night all the time.
”Excuse me what earth is this?” You asked a stranger.
”Get away from me you hobo,” She said and walked away.
”Rude!” You yelled at her.
You shake your head and start to walk around. Then you used speed to look for your fathers.
You see a building called Star Labs. You walked into the building and start to look around.
You found the lab and you see Barry’s flash suit.
”Red? Why he would wear red. Horrible color” You said to yourself.
Killer Frost and Cisco walked in.
”Hey you shouldn't be here,” Cisco said.
Killer Frost gets ready to use her powers on you.
”Woah, you two are here!” You said really loud.
You walked closer to them but Killer Frost used her powers on you. You hit your head on the wall and you passed out.
”Why did you do that!?” Cisco yelled.
”He could have killed us. And have you looked at his suit. It's like Barry’s suit but with different colors” Killer Frost said.
”Let’s put him in the cell. Somehow he got Barry’s ring” Cisco said.
Your ring is white and Cisco thought you did something to it.
They called Barry and Snart. You start to wake up and you rubbed your head. You stand up and you tried to use your powers.
”You can't use your powers in there,” Barry said.
Your eyes opened wide.
”Dad! It's me Y/N” You said.
”Dad!?” Everyone said together.
”You are my dad too, Snart,” You said.
”Barry, did you change the timeline again?” Snart asked.
”No, I swear I didn't do it this time,” Barry said.
”Actually, I'm from another earth. To be exact I'm from earth 43. I was sent here so I can be safe but my device is broken” You said.
”What is earth 43?” Barry asked.
”On my earth, you and Snart are my fathers. Earth 43 is taken over by the blood league meaning vampires. It's nighttime for thirteen hours and the year only has 13 months. My earth was protected by Justice Titans but not anymore, now they are called blood league. I couldn't help because I can't control my powers which is speed and ice” You said.
”Vampires?” Snart asked.
You nod.
”Why is your suit sliver?” Barry asked.
”I combined your color and dad’s color together,” You said.
”I don't have powers. I use my ice gun” Snart said.
”On my earth, you have powers use the gun for more power. This is my first time leaving my earth and seeing my dad’s doppelgänger is strange” You said.
”I feel you are telling the truth,” Barry said.
Snart looked at Barry.
”What? I have met my doppelgängers before. He wouldn't be wearing the symbol if I didn't believe he is good. Maybe, we should help him train so he can go back to his earth and help his fathers” Barry said.
”I will keep my eye on you, kid. I trust you, so I will go along with it” Snart said.
Barry opened the gate and you walked towards them. He gave you back the ring.
”Did you steal my goggles?” Snart asked
”No. You gave it to me on my earth” You said.
”Mhmm,” Snart said.
”We don't have star labs on my earth,” You said.
”What do you use then?” Barry asked.
”The museum that used to belong to the bat family. Unfortunately, all of them are vampires Bruce, Tim, Jason, Barbara, and Alfred” You said.
”We are friends with them?” Snart asked.
”Yeah, for many years. Have something to eat?” You said.
”Yeah, let's get big belly burger,” Barry said.
”What’s that?” You asked.
”You don't have it on your earth!?” Barry said too loud.
”It was shut down before I was born. Booster Gold has his own restaurant and we used to eat there. He is the owner of Planet Krypton” You said.
”Trust me. You will love Big Belly Burgers” Barry said.
Before going, you had to change clothes. So you have own, Star Labs shirt and regular jeans.
-----------------
Barry and Snart took you to Big Belly Burger, they ordered for you. Once you took a bite of the burger you liked it.
”Slow down, we won't it away from you,” Barry said.
”This pretty good. I thought it would taste bad” You said.
”You should drip the French fries in the milkshake and eat it,” Snart said.
”He loves eating the fries likes that,” Barry said.
”Sounds disgusting,” You said.
”Try it,” Snart said.
You dip the french fries in the milkshake and you are it.
”I never knew you can eat it like this. Do people know about this?” You said.
Barry and Snart couldn't help to smile.
”Everyone knows about it. It's not known in your earth?” Snart asked.
”No. What earth is this and what do you do” You said.
”This is earth- 1. I'm the hero in this earth and he is an anti-hero. It will be one year since we got married and we don't have kids” Barry said.
”What are we back on your earth,” Snart said.
”On my earth, it was the opposite. But dad became good when he met you and you are a hero. Got married and down the timeline, I was born” You said.
”Who is your mother?” Barry asked.
”Actually, I created by your genes and his. To answer your question I don't have a mom” You said.
”Wait, I am a hero?” Snart asked in disbelief.
”And I was a villain?” Barry asked in disbelief also.
”Yeah, you were known as The Chemist. Later on, you and dad joined the Justice Titans on the team was Robin and Batman, Cyborg, Ultra man, wonder women” You said.
”Interesting” Snart said.
Later, they took you to their place and it's different from your earth. They will let you sleep in the guest bedroom. Barry and Snart are alone talking.
”Should we let him, call us dad?” Barry asked.
”I guess. His home has been taken over by vampires. You teach him how to control both of his powers then we send back home” Snart said.
Snart is in bed and Barry gets in bed.
”You are right. Hope everything will work out for him” Barry Said.
Barry and Snart start to kiss each other.
~Next day~
Barry is making breakfast and you sit next to Snart. On your earth, you never ate as a family because they were busy saving people. You are feeling excited to eat breakfast as a family. Barry puts the food on the table and everyone starts to eat.
”This is really good,” You said.
You take big bites of the waffles.
”They don't make breakfast for you?” Barry asked.
”When I was a kid. But when I got older, I would eat alone because you and dad were busy saving people” You said.
They felt bad for you.
--------------
At Star Labs, Cisco is working on to upgrade your suit. Barry is helping you train. They tracked your speed now it's time for the next part.
”You are overthinking everything. Stop it” Snart said.
”I will try,” You said.
You start to run again, Barry starts to run after you and he used electrokinesis to hit you. You start to dodge it. You want to use ice and your hands start to turn crystal ice and you tried to combine with lighting but you, Snart used his gun at you. And you fell down and you are breathing hard and you are still lying down.
”Don’t ever assume the other opponents won't attack you or fight fair” Snart said.
”Okay, dad,” You said.
All-day they have been helping you train. Little by little you start to improve and they are happy for you.
-----------
Days go by fast, Barry wanted to have a family night, but playing board games. Barry and Snart are getting attached to you. Every day they have been helping you train.
”What game we will play tonight?” You asked.
”Y/N, can you play poker?” Snart asked.
”No” You lied.
”Let’s play,” Snart said.
Barry knows what Snart is doing.
The first two games you lost but on the third game, you won.
”Thought you didn't know how to play,” Snart said.
”You taught me how to play when I was twelve. Once you taught me how to escape from handcuffs” You said.
”That is something I would teach my son, Y/N,” Snart said and he smiled.
Later, Barry made hot cocoa. Barry noticed how you and Snart like to eat the marshmallows first then put more in the cup.
Snart noticed how sometimes, you would something with sarcasm.
He noticed how you sit like him. Both Barry and Snart noticed how you are almost like them.
-------------
”He has to go back home. This isn't his earth, you and Barry are getting too attached to him” Cisco said.
”Y/N is sweet and we all like him. But we have to help his dads on his earth. The device is ready and he can leave now” Caitlin said.
”I will miss him. We talked about starting a family and we got the chance when Y/N, we felt happy” Barry said.
”You have to tell them,” Cisco said.
You are with Snart in the other room.
”Dad, look I got the same jacket like dad. I never had a jacket like this before. What do you think? Pretty cool, right” You said.
”It was time for our son to improve his style,” Snart said.
”That’s nice. Y/N it's time for you to go home, the device is fixed” Barry said.
”Oh okay,” You said.
”But we will go with your earth to help you defeat the vampires,” Barry said.
”That means a lot to me,” You said.
Cisco turned on the device and everyone went through the portal. You used your flash ring to put on your suit.
The city is halfway destroyed, it's nighttime again. While walking you all noticed the blood league.
”Dad!?” You yelled.
Your real dads, Barry and Snart are vampires.
”You came back with more victims. Good job, Y/N. Now you can be like us” Vampire Barry said.
Tears go down your face. He was going to attack you but Killer Frost used her powers to attack him. Your body froze and you didn't move an inch.
All of them start to fight with the blood leagues. You dropped to your knees and you start to cry.
Your ex-boyfriend Jason Todd jumped on top of you. But you didn't attack back, he was going to bite you.
”Now we can be together again,” Jason said.
He opened his mouth wide and he is among for your neck. But Snart used his gun to attack Jason. Then Snart pulled you up.
”They are gone. Don't become like them, your fathers would have told you to fight back. No matter what, they will always want you to fight back. Tell me, would they let you give up?” Snart said.
You wiped your tears away.
”No! They would tell me to fight back” You said.
”Good. Now we fight” Snart said.
You nod. He let's go of you then you put on the goggles and you are ready to fight.
You used all your strength to fight back, it's not easy because they are stronger than you.
Now your suit is ruined and half of your mask is ripped apart. You are fighting against your ex-boyfriend.
”I won't become like you!” You yelled at the vampires.
”You are our son, Y/N. We can be together now forever don't be afraid” Vampire Barry said.
You shake your head no.
”No. My fathers wouldn't tell me to give up” You said.
”You are not alone, Y/N,” Killer Frost said.
”I’m sorry but this is my battle,” You said.
You turned on the device and set it to earth-1. You used speed to push them through the portal and you turned it off.
”You are truly an idiot,” Jason said.
”Let’s dance,” You said.
Barry and the others are back in earth-1.
”We have to go back and save him,” Barey said.
Cisco tried to use his powers.
”What’s going on?” Snart asked.
Cisco tries again.
”I'm trying,” Cisco said.
”Hurry up, Y/N needs us,” Barry said.
Cisco tried harder and the portal opened and they went through.
They see you passed out, Barry grabbed you and brought you back to earth-1.
-------------
You start to wake up and you are in the medical room. You start to touch yourself, you thought you were dead.
”Y/N are you okay?” Snart asked.
”Yeah. Oh my God, am I a vampire!?” You yelled.
You start to touch your neck then your teeth.
”What happened?” Barry asked.
”I started to fight everyone but it was too many. Next thing I know I got hit on the head now I'm here” You said.
Snart and Barry hugged you.
”You will stay with us. Your earth is not like before and we don't want you to be a vampire. Y/N do you want to stay with us?” Snart said.
You smiled.
”Yeah, I will stay. So that means I can keep you and him, dad?” You said.
”Of course. Now you can be apart of my team the Rogues” Snart said.
”Awesome! Who else is on the team?” You said.
”No, Y/N will not join the Rogues” Barry said.
”Relax, it was a joke. Now, we celebrate that Y/N will stay with us” Snart said.
You kept smiling.
~weeks later~
Barry and Snart bought a house with more space. They don't treat you differently and they did give rules to follow. You still feel sad that you couldn't save your home and family.
”What’s wrong?” Snart asked.
”I feel bad that I couldn't save my home and the people I loved,” You said.
He puts his arm around your shoulders.
”Y/N, there are moments you can't save everyone. We will try to change the timeline but it will drive us crazy and everything will change for the worse or moments we will never experience” Snart said.
You looked at him then looked away.
”You are right,” You said in a low voice.
”Come, we will play laser tag with the others. We will be on teams and no one will stop us” Snart said and you smiled.
”That’s great dad,” You said.
You and Snart went to the arcade and met up with the others.
174 notes · View notes
exdeotm · 4 years
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river  boyet  mercado  .    empty  church  pews  underneath  heavy  moonlit  stained  glass  –  save  for  one  disheveled  head  of  brown  curls  bent  down  in  furrowed  prayer  at  the  front  ,  careful  attentiveness  as  bread  dough  is  molded  by  bruised  &  calloused  hands  –  masked  as  care  &  kindness  behind  attentive  eyes  &  soothing  smiles  –  but  always  bordering  on  insistent  distraction  from  something  unspoken  ,  &  the  sound  of  a  strained  gasp  accompanied  by  the  stillness  of  a  room  after  being  awoken  from  a  noiseless  ,  boundless  nightmare  .
rumor  .    his  mother  is  currently  serving  life  in  prison  for  murdering  her  husband  &  attempting  to  murder  her  fourteen  -  year  -  old  son  .
out  of  character  .  aubs  ,  twenty  -  one  ,  she  /  her  ,  est  ,  &  i  would  live  &  die  for  andy  dufresne  from  shawshank  redemption  .  i  watch  speed  racer  (  2008  )  unironically  &  it’s  one  of  my  favorite  films  of  all  time  ,  barbie  in  the  nutcracker  is  unequivocally  the  best  barbie  film  &  i’ll  take  that  statement  with  me  to  my  mf  grave  ,  &  sam  giddings  &  josh  washington  deserve  it  all  .  idk  what  ‘  it  ’  entails  but  .  .  .  they  deserve  it  .
✷   *   ˚   𝑑𝑖𝑣𝑒  𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜  𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒  𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔  /  𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔  𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑤   .   ˚   *  
nickname  .    riv  .
character  inspiration  .    frank  castle  (  the  punisher  )  ,  charlie  (  perks  of  being  a  wallflower  )  ,  billy  loomis  (  scream  franchise  )  ,  ben  hanscom  /  richie  tozier  /  stanley  uris  lovechild  (  it  )  ,  gordie  lachance  (  stand  by  me  )  ,  theodore  (  her  )  ,  eduardo  saverin  (  the  social  network  )  ,  &  andy  dufresne  (  shawshank  redemption  )  .
age  .    thirty  -  six  .  
pronouns  .    he  &  him  .
orientation  .    bisexual  .
occupation  .    baker  at  golden  grain  bakery  .
frequents  .    silver  fox  motel  .  he  frequents  the  motel  for  wholeheartedly  sentient  &  selfish  reasons  .  the  town’s  ambience  has  him  in  its  clenched  fist  ,  &  he  knows  he’s  incapable  of  moving  permanently  in  any  capacity  .  however  ,  whenever he needs rest  because  he’s  feeling  the  insomnia  hit  particularly  hard  (  thanks  to  his  record  with  sleep paralysis  &  trauma  /  ptsd  surrounding  being  in  a  homely  environment  as  an  adult  when  his  last  real  childhood  memory  of  his  own  home  is  one  that  feels  horror  movie  -  esque  )  .
tattoos  .    n  /  a  .
face claim  .    bob  morley  .
zodiac  .    aries  sun  ,  pisces  moon  ,  &  sagittarius  rising  .
alignment  .    lawful  good  .
hogwarts  house  .    hufflepuff  .
demeanor  .    he’s  an  incredibly   smiley  person  .  his  gut  instinct  is  charitableness  &  kindness  ,  so  he  often  acts  humbly  /  selflessly  first  &  thinks  later  .  you’ll often find him speaking softly  ,  letting others talk over him  ,  telling jokes only when it’s his turn to speak  ,  being wooed by people the moment they so much as ring the bell walking in  &  offer them a sugary good morning  ,  etc  .  he’s a fool for love who won’t let himself have it because he’s worried it’ll never be real  ,  people switch up too fast  ,  etc  .  however  ,  he’s  simultaneously  a  mess  when  it  comes  to  his  warring  avoidant  &  protective  personality traits  .  he’s the kind of person who will be as soft  -  spoken but forward as he can possibly be during a conversation in order to avoid conflict  ,  but the moment he senses he’s losing he’ll hold on even tighter  &  transition into the overprotective river who doesn’t want anybody to set foot inside what he thinks is his business  &  will go to extremes to make sure someone he loves is safe  --  even if that means walling them in  &  making them resent him  .  he doesn’t understand what it means to balance his need to keep people safe  &  his will to keep himself comfortable by inciting a small conflict in an attempt to stay out of a bigger one  .
positive traits  .    vigilant  /  protective  ,  soft  -  spoken  ,  &  selfless  .
negative  traits  .    aversive  /  avoidant  ,  mendacious  ,  &  fickle  .
phobias  .    the  dark  ,  daunting  changes  &  shifts  in  moods  that  go  unspoken  of  ,  dreams  wherein  he’s  unable  to  scream  ,  large  /  over  -  sized  safes  ,  &  dead  silence  that  lacks  any  kind  of  white  noise  (  he  enjoys  sleeping  at  the  motel  because  he’s  more  apt  to  hear  cars  driving  by  ,  doors  closing  ,  sinks  turning on  ,  etc  )  .
drug  use  .    rarely  .  he  was  never  the  type  of  kid  who  jumped  at  the  thought  of  experimenting  ,  &  that  tendency  to  say  no  trailed  into  his  life  as  an  adult  .  he  was  always  concerned  with  not  being  a  nuisance  to  anyone  ,  which  included  making  sure  he  was  always fully  capable  of  working  &  not  getting  caught  up  in  how  addicted  he  knows  he’ll  get  to  being  under  the  influence  .
alcohol  use  .    rarely  .  see  above  for  an  explanation  !
diet  .    poor  but  consistent  .  river  spends  as  little  time  at  home  as  possible  ,  so  his  diet  largely  consists  of  food  he  bakes  or  diner  runs  .  he’s  the  type  of  diner  regular  who  sits  at  the  same  booth  every  time  ,  orders  the  same  thing  for  dinner  every  night  ,  is  way  too  kind  to  his  waitstaff  ,  &  overtips  everyone  who  had  a  part  in  serving  him  .  he  loves  waffles  &  prefers  sweet  tea  .  he  could  easily  be  a  southern  dime  if  canadian  blood  wasn’t  already  coursing  through  his  kindly  veins  .
physical or mental disabilities  .  he  had  to  have  a  left  -  side  brain  tumor  that  was  impacting  his  ability  to  hear  removed  as  a  kid  (  it  was  removed  when  he  was  seventeen  )  ,  &  has  been  slowly  but  progressively  regaining  his  hearing  in  his  left  ear  ever  since  ;  although  he  only  experiences  a  mild  form  of  his  previous  auditory  function  difficulties  ,  he  still  signs  at  work  or  in  front  of  people  who  know  him  --  especially  when  standing  at  a distance  from  someone  ,  &  ptsd  stemming  from  his  mother’s  outburst  when  he  was  fourteen  .  
birthplace  .    radisson  ,  alberta  ,  canada  .
has  he  experienced  strange  radisson  happenings  ?    he’ll  tell  you  all  day  that  he  hasn’t  ,  but  he  definitely  has  .
family  .     
christopher  &  cora  mercado  :  the  mercado  family  was  ,  at  no  point  in  time  ,  picturesque  .  the  mercado  family  loved  each  other  ,  absolutely  ,  but  river’s  parents  were  still  both  the  type  who’d  go  around  in  circles  with  each  other  in  public  --  all  the  while  ignoring  their  son  as  he  walked  in  front  of  them  .  his  mother  was  in  no  way  stable  ,  but  river  was  far  too  young  to  understand  what  exactly  her  violent  outbursts  entailed  .  to  river  ,  his  father  was  always  the  collected  one  .  they  often  left  river  home  alone  .  one  night  when  river  was  fourteen  ,  he  woke  up  (  after  his  parents  had  been  gone  all  day  )  to  his  father  shaking  him  awake  (  his  left  side  --  his  particularly  bad  ear  ,  especially  at  the  time  )  &  rushing  him  to  get  up  &  be  quiet  .  as  far  as  river  could  tell  ,  his  father  was  on  the  phone  with  the  police  waiting  for  an  in  -  person  response  but  keeping  the  line  busy  .  his  father  left  the  room  for  a  moment  to  check  to  see  if  the  coast  to  the  car  was  clear  &  river  never  saw  him  again  afterward  .  sharp  scuffling  ensued  behind  the  door  ,  &  there  was  no  moment  of  hesitation  after  the  scuffling  dulled  before  there  was  an  insistent  banging  on  river’s  door  .  the  only  thing  that  saved  him  ,  at  the  end  of  the  night  ,  was  river’s  fight  -  or  -  flight  response  to  lock  his  bedroom  door  .  the  police  arrived  about  an  hour  later  &  found  mrs.  mercado  rampaging  blindly  around  the  house  ,  mr.  mercado  stabbed  to  death  in  the  kitchen  ,  &  river  mercado  hiding  under  his  bed  covering  his  ears  .  river  never  went  to  visit  his  mother  in  prison  ,  &  still  hasn’t  spoken  to  her  since  .
education  .    he  went  to  public  school  in  radisson  for  the  duration  of  his  early  youth  &  has  worked  at  the  bakery  since  he  was  fifteen  --  a  year  after  being  placed  in  a  foster  home  .  by  the  time  river  was  eighteen  ,  he  was  living  in  a  small  house  on  his  own  &  hasn’t  left  his  bakery  --  diner  --  home  routine  since  .
languages  .    english  ,  asl  ,  &  tagalog  .
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acerobbiereyes · 4 years
Text
Tagged by @soulofevil
Thank you!
1. What is the color of your hairbrush? Blue
2. Name a food you never eat. Spaghetti, the texture is gross af
3. Are you typically too cold or too warm? Too cold, I’m a lizard over here for whatever reason
4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago? Playing Assassin’s Creed Origins.
5. What is your favorite candy bar? Kitkat
6. Have you ever been to a professional sports event? Yeah! My mom won tickets to a season opening to the Minnesota Timberwolves game. Pretty fun.
7. What is the last thing you said out loud? I teased my dog about smelly ‘doggy’.
8. What is your favorite ice cream? Cookie Dough
9. What was the last thing you had to drink? Water
10. Do you like your wallet? I do, it be a good wallet
11. What was the last thing you ate? Made myself some hotdogs
12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? No, I don’t really enjoy clothes shopping. And, quarantine.
13. The last sporting event you watched? The replay of the 2015 Kentucky Derby. Though before that it was the Arkansas Derby.
14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn? Regular popcorn
15. Who is the last person you sent a text message to? My sister
16. Ever go camping? Nope
17. Do you take vitamins? No
18. Do you go to church every Sunday? I haven’t been to church since i’ve gained that wonderful thing called ‘free will’
19. Do you have a tan? I’m a white lady from Minnesota, it’s an impossible feat
20. Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? Oof thats tough, Pizza, just because I eat it more than Chinese
21. Do you drink soda with a straw? Yes
22. What color socks do you usually wear? Black/greys and a couple red pairs
23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit? It’s kind of hard not too lol
24. What terrifies you? Vomiting, but i’m working on it
25. Look to your left, what do you see? My ace flag
26. What chore do you hate? Mowing the lawn
27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? Steve Irwin
28. What’s your favorite soda? Dorothy Molter Rootbeer (Idk if you can get it outside of MN, but if you can? Try it.) Anytype of Rootbeer.
29. Do you go into a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? Drive-Thru, I don’t like eating inside places
30. Who’s the last person you talked to? My mom
31. Favorite cut of beef? Sorry I don’t know Beef Words
32. Last song you listened to? The Closer You Get by Alabama
33. Last book you read? Jaws
34. Favorite day of the week? Saturday
35. Can you say the alphabet backwards? I’ve never tried, but probably not
36. How do you like your coffee? I don’t like coffee
37. Favorite pair of shoes? My only pair aka my ‘waffle stompers’ as mom calls them. Their just shoes, the kind you’d find at Cabelas or Fleet Farm
38. The time you normally go to sleep? Last night it was 5 AM, hoping for better luck tonight lol
39. The time you normally get up? 9 or 10 am
40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? Both are pretty, but I do love a good sunrise
41. How many blankets on your bed? Just my comforter
42. Describe your kitchen plates. Round, cermaic
43. Do you have a favorite alcoholic beverage? I don’t drink
44. Do you play cards? Sometimes, I know how to Blackjack and Go Fish
45. What color is your car? Silver (though it’s dads not mine, I just borrow it)
46. Can you change a tire? Yeah, not very good at it but yeah
47. Your favorite province? Frist that comes to mind is Alberta
48. Favorite job you’ve ever had? I really enjoyed my summer custodian job, cleaning out my highschool. I got a ton of stuff, because fun fact - they can and will through the shit you leave in your lockers away (or give it away in my case). Paid well too.
49. How did you get your biggest scar? Because 4 year old me is a dumbass
50. What did you do today that made someone else happy? I don’t think I did anything today. I’ve pretty much been playing video games all day lol
I’ll tag @romantic-raptors @rokhal @clementinewhy and @marvelsaos
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