#they decided to lay low to avoid the town's bullshits
Text
[REDACTED] the Fortune Teller
Rumor has it there's a student who only appears at night in the library who gives strange predictions.
"Sophie" or "Vincent" is an aloof and quiet schoolmate of the player. They can only be found inside the library after 9PM when the player edits their save files. "Sophie" can assist the player with strangely specific predictions, allowing the player to know what will happen in the next few hours. Their names and gender might change the next time the player meets them, assuming there's a next time.
At 40% love, "Sophie" might appear out of nowhere to warn the player if their next action is deemed dangerous.
#degrees of lewdity#dol#dol pc#shrimp is drawing#i keep forgetting to introduce my pc#sorry my child#actually they're more like a named npc oc at this point#they likes dried squids#in short they're a PC who also have access to the save features and after many traumatizing events#they decided to lay low to avoid the town's bullshits#they also avoid most named NPCs and LIs#their memory is terrible due to the events getting rewind over and over again
225 notes
·
View notes
Text
Astor nodded. He and paced the hall and muttered under his breath.
“I see...I never meddled in the realm of technology...but to think that Sheikah Technology could hold such a secret.” He tapped his chin, staring at the astrolabe on the other side of the dungeon bars. “I suppose it makes sense. The advanced accomplishments and feats that such technology is capable of...it’s only naturally that it is powered by unconventional means.”
Siv spun the Sheikah Core on his index finger like it was a ball. “Yeeeep. I’m guessing that’s what allowed the super old dudes to beat the Calamity all those years ago.” He shook his head. “So, yeah. Dick Lord Ganon is gonna use that to turn the Guardians and Divine Beasts against us. And even if the science peeps keep researching into them...well.” He looked up at Astor. “Obviously, they would never figure out this crucial little detail even after a hundred years of science-ing. So this is our little secret, capiche?”
Astor nodded again. If what Asivus was saying was true (And it was) then Hyrule were truly doomed. The Calamity would exploit this secret, and use it to flip the entire war on its head. This is what Ganon would use to turn the Divine Beasts against them.
If any of the researchers found out about this aspect of Ancient Technology, and adapted to it, then Ganon would lose his biggest advantage...and it might be possible to...
The seer quickly shook away the thought. No, even if they knew, the world would be helpless all the same when the Princess fails to awaken their powers. In fact, it would probably be more brutal if Ganon’s forces were reliant completely on the bludgeoning and stabbing that came with monsters. Machines would have avoidable patterns in a post-apocalyptic world, but monsters of malice would be exceptionally harder.
So yes...We keep this info from everyone. Especially Robbie and Purah and...
“How sure are you that no one else could figure this out?” Astor asked.
“Decently sure. I mean, it’d be pretty hard to guess such a crazy thing.” Asivus shrugged.
“Are you positive? Because I know my—” He stopped in his tracks, suddenly stumbling on his words. “I—in reference to random researchers—other non-specified—she’s not—Look. There are very talented and intelligent researchers across the kingdom, surely someone—”
“Did you say it yourself? Everyone’s way to arrogant around here!” Siv threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “No one’s gonna look for faults in their perfect little war machines! They shoot lasers, and don’t talk back. It’s a general’s wet dream. Even if someone figured out this secret, no one here would listen to them.” He waved his hand in a circle and gestured towards his half brother. “Case in point: You.”
Astor folded his arms and sighed. “Alright, fine. So that’s how the Calamity will turn the Guardians and Beasts against us. But what’s the actual execution of it all? The plan? What’s your play in this? How did the Guardians in the yard get corrupted?”
Siv was silent; thinking. He seemed to be endlessly swimming through thoughts and words and memories. The man fiddled with the discs surrounding the astrolabe, eyes drooping in misery. Interesting.
“I was supposed to make them. That’s what he wanted,” Asivus finally said. “Beast of water, lightning, air, and fire. Or, demons? Blights or something. Creatures that were to take on the Divine Beasts.They’re built slightly different than Guardians, so he needed a little something special to deal with ‘em.” He blew hair off his forehead with a huff. “It all sorta just came into my head in the minutes before I fucked up those Guardians, so the details come and go, but that’s the gist. I make the Blights, Ganon does his thing, then I wait at the Sanctum to achieve true happiness or whatever he was bullshitting.”
“But you failed.” Astor interjected. “You failed to make the blights, and thus today’s calamity failed. At least, in this timeline.” Siv opened his mouth to object, but he continued to think outloud. “The Guardians were a fluke, then. You were not capable of creating Blights, but wielded enough malice to corrupt a Guardian. Although that brings into question how you control malice to begin with...and why you were chosen specifically for the task...”
Asivus was silent again, spinning the astrolabe on the floor. Astor observed him for a moment.
“Is he speaking to you? At the moment?” The seer asked. “Every time you fall silent is when you start looking down at that device. That thing I can correctly assume is the instigator of all this, given that you look at it every time I ask about the recent Guardians you ruined.”
Asivus narrowed his eyes at him, annoyed at being so readable.
“Ganon isn’t in your head, as you said you were overcome with this information in the minutes you truly held that astrolabe and walked by the Guardians.” He thought back. “Earlier before the incident you said you had a dream, and then you found the astrolabe? You leave it on your desk as a paper weight, before developing the decent moral to drop off a potential lost item to the Sheikah. But then you were holding the astrolabe in proximity to the Guardians, and subsequently are suddenly given the revelation to the Calamity’s plan...”
He locked eyes with him. “Combine that with the truth about all Sheikah Technology itself...and the fact that your eyes only change when that core is in your possession...”
Astor walked closer and gripped one of the bars, calmly. “That astrolabe is the link between you and the Calamity. It speaking to you through it. It’s lending you the power to control malice. It’s a manifested vessel of Ganon’s ill intent for this world...perhaps made of whatever malice plagues yourself. Perhaps he chose you for the job because you’re brimming with his favourite substance.”
Assivus started at the seer, and blinked once. Astor took that as confirmation, but asked anyways: “Am I wrong?”
Siv bit his tongue for a moment, before sighing in defeat. “You’ve got Ligero’s mannerisms down to the T. The perceptiveness nearly makes me wish I had actually paid attention to his parenting attempts.”
Something twisted inside Astor at that comment, and his voice grew a dangerous edge. “I’m nothing like him.”
“It’s alright, don’t take it personally. I just have a love-hate relationship with smart people.”
“Tsk.” The prophet stared down the corridor in thought. “Don’t we all.”
“But you’re wrong about one thing.” Siv added, and he looked up at Astor with a new seriousness. “I didn’t ‘fail’ to make the blights.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I didn’t fail to make the blights, I didn’t want to.” Asivus raised his voice, and rolled the astrolabe to the other side of the cell. “You can’t fail something you never really attempted in the first place.” He winked. “I mean, that’s been my philosophy on life for the last 15 years, heh.”
Astor blinked in surprise. “But...why? The world is doomed, and you were handed a position of life and power on a silver tray. Chosen above anyone else. Why wouldn’t—?”
“I didn’t do it because I’m not like you, pissface!” Siv snapped. “I jump outta my socks to make a selfish decision. I don’t just run away from any inconvenience in my life.”
Astor nearly laughed. “Oh? And what exactly is it that you do, then? You’re really going to preach to me, Mr. Assivus Asunder?”
“YEAH! That name is exactly why I decided this!” He waved his arms in the air, and gestured to himself as he slumped against the wall. “Taking action and fighting for anything, regardless of what, sucks ass. Initiating change? Bad. Acting on what you care about? No likey.” Siv pounded his chest proudly. “The ideal ending for Asivus Ex-Hartell is to just chill out, and wait for the end. Drink in hand!”
He raised his empty flask, but nonetheless pretended to drink.
Astor frowned, but let the distant drip of leaking water echo in the corridor.
He watched Siv for a few more minutes, silently tapping his fingers on his elbow.
“You still care about your brother.”
It was a good think his flask was empty, as otherwise he would have spit out his drink. Siv angrily sputtered. “The fuck does that have to do with anything—?!”
“Why are you just relaxing in there after all this time? You think you deserve this? Don’t want to be a burden for others?” Astor looked him up and down.
“Listen, you little shit. I know at this point it shouldn’t be a surprise that my family is made up of asshole, but—”
“You know when I first saw you around the castle, I did recognize you. The eyes, you see. But of course, I didn’t see the need to trouble you with my story, but I did watch you.” The prophet sneered. “Dear Asivus Hartell, sneaking into town to share a peach cobbler with his niece. Assivus Asunder, teaching his nephew to shield surf, and trying to encourage him down a more righteous path than his own. The Royal Orator Siv, who thanks his little brother for taking care of him by spending four hours making perfect hand drawn rat doodle cards.” Astor leaned down with a smirk. “You’re not the only one who paid attention to the captain’s birthday presents.”
“Alright get to the point, fuckface.” He waved the prophet off. “What? I screw around with my dumb family. What’s it gotta do with anything?”
“It means that for all your talk of laying down and dying and giving up, your action seems to indicate that you don’t actually believe that.” He jabbed a finger at Siv through the bars. “Or at least you don’t fully. Maybe you don’t want to. So don’t go blathering about your sorry life, only to try and insult me in the next minute. This isn’t about your apathy. You’re just scrambling at this low bar Ganon gives you as you drool the rare opportunity to unequivocally be an undeniably good person. You just want to tell yourself you’re a hero.”
Quiet.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
“OK.” Asivus curled his lip. “I didn’t want to join Ganon, because I’m still stupidly trying to not be an asshole. I’m too much of a wuss to commit to the dickhead role I was probably meant to fulfill. I’m pathetically trying to keep control over my image—is THAT what you want to hear, magic man? Congratu-fucking-lations. You turned the tables, you can see how pathetic I am and can feel better about yourself. How do ya feel?” The astrolabe had rolled by Asivus’ lap, and gold speckled in his eyes.
Astor sighed and answered honestly. “...Well. I’m envious, truth be told.” Siv blinked, but let him continue. “I haven’t bothered trying to be a hero my whole life, much less have such a driven (and these days useless) hunger to be ‘good.’” The seer shook his head, staring down the hall again. “I’m envious, but I do think you’re a fool. I’d take the opportunity to wield the future in a heartbeat, no matter the consequences.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.” Siv chuckled. “This malice stuff is fucked up.”
“Only because you don’t understand it.” Astor replied, offended. “I’ve studies it for years, and it’s often misunderstood. There’s a beauty and usefulness to it, even detached from the Calamity. You’re just not intelligent enough to get it, I understand. ‘Love-hate relationship,’ like you said.” He snorted.
“Are you sick?! This Ancient Core thing made me walk through so many shitty memories and thoughts...I wouldn’t walk through that again to end OR save the world.”
“Again. All due to your plight of ignorance. It’s not your fault.”
Asivus rolled his eyes. “You know what? Why don’t you explain it me then?! If you’re so excited about it? Talk aaall about how I’m not fit to properly wield this and how pathetic I am?”
Siv dangled the astrolabe in the air between his fingers.
“Go on! Explain how great this malice is, and maybe then if you’re so eager I’ll just leave the thing in your care!”
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
Lisa in...Teamwork
"Oh yeah! Come on! Get some!"
Lisa lay back and stared at the ceiling with a bemused look on her face as Jake continued his energetic thrusting. She didn't mind her lover's shouting - in fact with with certain individuals it could be quite erotic, but it seemed very unnecessary right now. 'These kids today' she thought. She could tell Jake had spent too much time watching pornography and thinking he knew how to please a woman rather than actually getting some practical experience in the matter. She lay on the pillow and tried to make herself comfortable despite it all. Jake was doing a lot of movement above her but she struggled to find herself enjoying it or even feeling anything at all.
"Uh, Uh, Oh Fuck, fuck, fuck!". Lisa felt him shudder and finish before essentially collapsing on top of her, panting and sweating. "Oh fuck baby, oh fuck" he kept saying as he breathed deeply. She decided to pat him on the back. "Oh baby, you're so fucking good, so fucking good" he told her. She wished she could tell him the same. He flung his used condom towards the bin on the other side of the room and it just missed. "Oops" he said, before laughing to himself. Lisa was at least happy he'd put one on in the first place. He kissed her on the cheek. "Imma shower baby, come join?" he offered.
"Sure, maybe in a bit" she told him, "but maybe don't call me baby?". She guessed she was at least five years older than Jake and she didn't really enjoy the pet name.
"Whatever, babes," he said before popping into the shower. Lisa looked at the clock and sighed. The sex had only killed about fifteen minutes of time and they still had at least a couple of hours before they would need to leave the room she had rented. There was a small TV in the room - maybe she could find Jake some cartoons to watch. He was the very definition of a man-child and it was no surprise to her that he had been dishonourably discharged from the military. Lisa had already spent two days with him doing reconnaissance on their target and his lack of maturity was evident. He had spent half of his time playing games and even attempting to get Lisa to pose with him for a social media post - something she vehemently wanted to avoid.
It was rare for her to accept a job that required her to work with another contractor but on this occasion her client had been insistent that Jake join her for the mission. They were meant to be blowing up a warehouse used by a small smuggling gang that lay in a forest on the outskirts of town. It was well-guarded and Lisa knew that their best chance of success was to get in and out as quickly and quietly as possible. They had finished their reconnaissance the previous day and Lisa formulated their plan to move that evening. The sex had been natural and consensual and a good way to keep them both occupied as they waited. Lisa often enjoyed a good fuck around mission-time but his antics had left her just feeling frustrated. Even now, she could hear Jake whistling a tune in the shower. It occurred to her that he had all of the perfect traits to annoy her. 'Just get through tonight' she told herself. By all accounts, Jake had enough skills as a soldier to be useful.
"Hey babes" a voice called from the bathroom door. She turned over in the bed to see Jake standing there, his muscular body wet and naked, "sure I can't tempt you for round two?" he said, winking at her and pointing at his cock. Lisa bit her lip. Nightfall could not come quick enough.
------
Jake was nodding his head and silently mouthing along to the words from a rock song that Lisa could hear despite him having his headphones in. She tried to ignore the annoyance and focussed on getting ready, slipping into an all-in-one black catsuit and adorning it with holsters on both thighs, a tactical belt and some armour across her chest. She threaded the long suppressor on to her Springfield Armoury pistol and put it in her left thigh holster where it would be easiest to reach. Her other pistol was a HK45 in her other thigh that was also suppressed and she had spare magazines for both in her tactical belt. She clipped a hunting knife onto her belt before turning to her BCM-CQB 11 assault rifle that would be her main weapon. She made sure that the suppressor was tight and the laser sight working before loading it with a magazine and making sure spares were available from her vest and belt if needed. She slung the strap over her shoulder.
"You ready?" she said, turning to Jake. He was still bopping his head to the music whilst he chambered a round in his Colt pistol. He picked up his own assault rifle and slammed in a magazine.
"Let's fucking DO THIS" he said aggressively, shouting a little too loud for Lisa's liking. She led them out of the room and through some dark back streets, keeping low and out of sight where they could. She led them into a dark alley around the back of some houses where there was no light.
"Goggles on,'' Lisa instructed him, putting on her nightvision headset. Her vision turned to green but she could now see clearly where she was going. There was a movement at the end of the alley along with voices - it sounded like a drunk couple heading home and laughing. Lisa raised her hand and slunk behind a bin as they appeared at the end of the alley, walking past it. The man wore a polo and jeans while the woman had a crop-top and shorts.
"I've got them," Jake said. He started to raise his weapon.
"No, leave them" Lisa snapped back. The last thing she needed was for them to create an unnecessary mess. The couple were not heading in their direction.
"No witnesses, babes," Jake said. Tik-tik-tik, tik-tik-tik. He fired two bursts at the couple. "Yeah! Get some!" he said quietly as he fired.
Lisa swore to herself. "No witnesses at the damn base, this..." She sighed and tried to calm herself as Jake walked over to the couple.
"Hey, I got her in the tit" he told Lisa excitedly. She looked and saw he had. All the shots had hit the man and woman in the upper chest. The man was motionless but the woman writhed a little on the floor. "Now it's over" Jake said as if he was in some action film before he fired another short burst tik-tik-tik into the woman's chest and she went limp. Jake was beaming as if pleased with himself. Lisa bit her lip again to stop her cursing at him - no point heading into danger with emotion blinding you.
Lisa continued past the houses and into the forest that was densely packed with trees. The nightvision came into its own here, allowing them to navigate through the trees until they came to a small ridge that overlooked an area of forest floor that had been cleared to make way for a warehouse. There were some outer cabins too, a couple of trucks and the whole compound was surrounded by a wire fence. Lisa lay flat on the ground and looked around. She tried to count the guards she could see in their mismatched camouflage outfits. Two were patrolling different sections of the outside fence, there were a couple walking together in the compounds and guards outside the front and back of the warehouse.
"Fuck it babes, we can totally take them" Jake whispered next to her. Lisa quieted him. She also knew that the cabins contained more guards who could come running at any moment if need be, but she was determined to keep them in place.
"We've got a simple route in, simple route out" she said, "no need for any bullshit".
"Bullshit? This plan's bullshit" Jake told her. "All this fucking sneaking. I say we go and fuck them up".
Lisa was half-tempted to let him try but knew that it would compromise her own position as well. There was another reason to keep Jake close - he had the explosives they needed to blow up the warehouse. She decided to reason with him. "Just think" she said, "when that warehouse is ablaze they'll all come running out of their rabbit holes. Be sitting ducks for you".
He considered her logic and nodded. "OK babes. For you". He blew her a kiss. Lisa got to her feet and made her way down the ridge towards the far side of. The compound had floodlights lighting it so there was no need for the nightvision. She raised the goggles but turned the laser sight on her assault rifle on. She held it pointing towards the ground but ready to strike.
A sentry with an M16 was walking around the perimeter fence and Lisa kept her distance as he moved past her. She moved swiftly but silently across the ground, waiting until he was behind the shadow of a building before raising her gun. Tik-tik. Two bullets in his back put the man in camouflage down. Tik-tik. Another two to the back of his head from Lisa made sure he would stay there.
Tik-tik-tik. The other sentry rounded into view but Jake's bullets put him down. "Fuckin' A" he said quietly. Lisa let him go by himself to finish the man. She took some plyers from her belt and began cutting the wiring on the fence and by the time Jake returned, she had made a hole to crawl through. She stood flat against the outside of the building and got her bearings. The warehouse was diagonal from her position but she knew that a couple of trucks would cover their approach. There would be one guard by the trucks. She peered around the corner and saw him standing in between their wheels.
Lisa moved the assault rifle around her back and took out her Springfield pistol. She braced herself, then swung from her position. Pfft. The single shot from her pistol hit the guard square in the head and he fell forward, his rifle dropping by his side. She moved between the trucks towards his body, checking the coast was clear. Ahead of her she saw two guards by the back of the warehouse door, assault rifles in hand. She swapped back to her own rifle and motioned for Jake to join her.
"Take the one on the left," she told him. "On three. One, two..."
Tik-tik-tik-tik, tik-tik-tik-tik. Jake had moved early and engaged both guards. She heard one cry out in pain as he was wounded. Fuck, thought Lisa. That sound would bring others to investigate. "You fuckwit" she told Jake, "you'll have the whole fucking place on top of us". Sure enough, another guard jogged around the corner to investigate the noise. Tik-tik-tik. Lisa was waiting for him. The laser guided the shots home and her target collapsed. She scanned the area - there was no other movement just yet and she hoped that no-one else would be making their way towards them. "OK, get to the warehouse," she told Jake. She covered his moves as he swiftly moved towards the doors before he returned the favour to her.
Pfft. Lisa's pistol made quick work of the lock on the door and Jake opened the door for her. She swept her gun around the inside but there was nobody there. All she saw were tables and shelves with a range of narcotics. "Clear," she told Jake. "Come on, I'll keep you covered". He strolled nonchalantly into the room and set his backpack down. Lisa checked he was assembling the explosives whilst keeping an eye out the door for any movement. A couple of lights flickered in a couple of the cabins and she saw two men in camouflage with automatic weapons exiting and starting on a new patrol. "How we looking?" she asked Jake.
"All set" he said, placing a final remote charge in some C4 he had placed around the room. He joined her at the door.
"OK, give them a second to pass," Lisa told him. The two new sentries were still in sight and she wanted them to move on before they exited the building. Jake pushed past her and saw the two sentries.
"Hey assholes!" he called. They looked towards him and he shot tik-tik-tik-tik-tik-tik-tik-tik-tik, taking them both down. Lisa was incredulous. She saw more lights going on in the outer cabins.
"Fuck sake" she said audibly. Jake simply laughed. "Go, go, now" she told him. She ran back in the direction they had come as she heard shouts coming from the cabins as a number of men exited them, holding and loading assault rifles as they did. Lisa ducked behind the trucks as a volley of fire came from a guard. Tik-tik-tik. She swung and returned fire, hitting him. Jake was firing wildly in all directions and she saw the other guards take cover as he did so.
"Get some!" he shouted at them. He ran through the hole in the fence that Lisa had made, changing the magazine on his BCM as he did so. Lisa did the same, taking cover behind trees for a second and firing her rifle towards the men chasing them to give some cover. Her and Jake scrambled back to the ridge they had come from. She saw most of their pursuers were approaching the warehouse.
"Hasta la vista baby!" Jake called. He held up the remote detonator in his hand and flipped the switch. BOOM! The night sky was lit up by an orange fireball as the warehouse exploded with a deafening roar. There were screams as a large number of the guards were hit by debris and others were engulfed by the flames. Lisa looked down the scope of her rifle. Tik-tik. Tik-tik. Tik-tik. She fired some short bursts into those that had survived the explosion. The fireball went into the air and a strange calm and stillness descended on the area. Lisa looked to her left to see Jake celebrating wildly.
"Woo! Woo! FUCK YEAH" he called loudly. "You fucking see that shit?" he asked Lisa. "Babes that was fucking smoking". The adrenaline was rushing through him. Lisa could see his eyes were wild. He kissed the muscles on his arm.
"Not bad" she said, giving him a smile, "not bad at all". She lay her hand on his arm with a soft touch.
"Oh god" he said, "I want you so bad, so fucking bad babes. Right here, right now, I want it. Let me give you that pleasure".
"OK" Lisa told him. She kissed him and started to undo the armour on him. He dropped his gun and unfastened some straps on himself, then pulled his black top off to reveal a muscular chest. Lisa kissed his chest and undid his belt, pulling his trousers down. He moaned a little in pleasure.
"Fuck yeah, fuck yeah" he said softly, "let me make you smile too babes".
"Oh you will," she told him seductively. She took a step back and her hands went to her belt to undo it. He smiled until she dropped her hand lower and grabbed the Springfield Armoury pistol from her thigh holster.
"Oh shi-" he began to say, seeing his own weapons on the floor. Pfft-pfft-pfft. Lisa's three shots stopped the words before he could finish them. She smiled. For the first time that day, she began to feel some enjoyment.
"Like I say, you will give me all the pleasure" she said excitedly. Pfft-pfft-pfft. She plugged him again in his chest and he stumbled. "Aww fuck yeah, get some" she said, imitating his annoying mannerisms. Pfft-pfft. Two more shots to the chest made him collapse. He looked around desperately but his breaths shortened. Lisa's hand went beneath her belt and by her pants as she fired pfft-pfft. It gave her the satisfaction she craved. She let herself play for a few seconds before holstering the pistol and picking up her assault rifle. "Oh...oh yeah" she said as she looked down the barrel towards his head. Her finger rested by the trigger. He looked up at her with dread in his eyes.
"As you say, hasta la vista babes" she said. Tik-tik-tik-tik-tik-tik-tik-tik-tik-tik.
#hitwoman#silencer assassin#silencer hitwoman#femme fatale#female assassin#woman gun#story#killer woman
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Delicate
Word Count: 1697
Pairing: Reader x Bruce Wayne
Rating: General Audiences
Synopsis: Your life has been a downward spiral since your parents died. In your worst moments, you discover that the only one you can rely on Bruce Wayne.
It had been a shitty couple of weeks for you. To be honest, your problems had began years ago, when your parents passed away in mysterious circumstances that the GCPD had never been able to figure out. Ironically, it was your tragedy that had made you famous. Being from one of Gotham’s wealthiest families had made the case seem interesting to the public, especially since it had been less than a year from the Wayne’s murder. The shares of your company went on the rise and thanks to your uncle’s administration, it soon became the most important electronics industry in the country.
But even though you had money, those years were hell. You hated living alone in your big penthouse; you hated going to school; you hated your uncle, who only wanted the money and didn’t even take care of you and you hated the cops for not discovering what had caused your parents demise. Those were lonely years, the only friend you had was Bruce Wayne, another young orphan, only two years older than you. But then he went away and you were left utterly alone.
With nothing else to do, you threw yourself into a life of alcohol, parties, drugs and sex. You build a fame of being a party animal, Gotham’s craziest socialite; you began to hang out with the wrong crowd and didn’t have a care in the world other than to get drunk. You left the company to be administered by others and bought a nightclub, which quickly became the most exclusive one in the city.
None of that mattered to you. You were happy with the life you were living. But then Bruce returned to town. You didn’t want to let him back into your life, afraid he would leave again. Truth be told, you always liked him as more than a friend and when he disappeared to travel around the world, you were heart broken. Of course he made his way back into your life. You frequented the same parties, went to the same restaurants, talked with the same people, you couldn’t just pretend he didn’t exist. Especially when he was so damn charming. You weren’t as close as you once were, but he was the closest friend you had. And that’s why you worried what he would think of it. Would he believe it? He couldn’t, could he? He had known you for a long time, he ought to know that you could never do it.
* * *
It had been a real nightmare from the moment you woke up. Your phone was filled with notifications of missed calls and texts, everyone aching to be the first to get your statement. Not that you knew what they wanted from you. No, you discovered that when you picked up the newspaper.
“The truth behind Silver St. Cloud’s death” , said the headline. Near it was printed a photo of you with Silver in a party last year. Then, the article proceeded to detail how you had been the one to kill Silver and covered it up as an OD, all because you owed her about half million dollars.
You couldn’t finish reading it as tears began to cloud your vision. You had befriended Silver around the same time Bruce left. Together, the two of you were the life of Gotham’s nightclubs, you had loved her like a sister, until she overdosed two months back.
How dare they accuse you of having killed her? Bullshit. That’s all bullshit. No one will buy it , you though as you sipped your coffee.
You were wrong. Before midday, the police was already knocking on your door, asking questions. Apparently, that journalist had written a pretty convincing article.
“No, I didn’t borrow any money from her.”
“No, I wasn't with her that night.”
“Yes, I have an alibi.”
“No, of course I didn’t hire someone to kill her! She was my friend.”
By the end of the day, you were tired of answering the same things over and over again.
The days passed, but the press was obsessed with that story, and you couldn’t even leave your building without having ten microphones shoved on your face and reporters asking questions, trying to distort every word you said to make you look guilty.
* * *
You were watching TV when you heard the doorbell. You opened it grumpily, sure it was the detectives with more pointless questions.
“What do you want now?”, you said as you pulled the door open, not even checking who was on the other side, lately all visits you got were from the GCPD.
“That’s how you say ‘hello’ now?”, Bruce asked, cracking up a smile.
You exhaled sharply. It had been a week since you were accused of murder, and this was the first time you even heard from him. You were happy to see him, but you were mad it had taken so long for him to show up. “Bruce”, you stated flatly, careful as to not show any conflicting emotions.
“Can I come in?”, he asked and you nodded, moving to the side to allow him to enter your apartment.
“Want a drink?”, you offered, following social protocol. No matter how mad you were at him, you still had your manners.
He declined politely and sat on your couch. The TV was still on, showing, for what felt the millionth time that week, an old episode of X-Files. You poured yourself a glass of whiskey, which you quickly drank in one swallow, before sitting by Bruce’s side. He stared at you, thinking of something to say, those blue eyes piercing your soul and unveiling your deepest secrets.
“I know you are innocent”, he said, after what felt like a long time.
You were taken by surprise. “You do?”, you exclaimed, your voice so low it was almost a whisper. He smiled, nodding softly. You felt a sudden urge to throw your arms around his neck and kiss his handsome face. He was the only one who believed in you.
“But that’s not why I came by”, he continued. You raised an eyebrow, curious as to what he wanted. “I’ve been thinking, and uh…”, you had never seen him stutter before, whatever he had to say, it was really important. “Would you like to go get some drinks one of these days?”
What? Was he really asking you out? Before, you would have said yes without hesitation, but now everything was more complicated. “This isn’t the best time”, you began to tell him. Your reputation had never been worse, you didn’t want to ruin his too.
“I don’t care. I should have asked this long ago”, he interrupted you mid-sentence. “So, I’ll text you the address, then?”, he asked, getting up and straightening his suit. You nodded, too surprised to do anything but agree. He flashed you one last smile before leaving your apartment.
* * *
You arrive late. It wasn’t your fault, you had to take long routes to avoid all the paparazzi. You had decided to meet in a dive bar on the East End, the last place on Earth anyone would think to look for Bruce Wayne and Camila L/N, all to avoid publicity.
Even with the bad lighting, you quickly spot him in the far back of the bar. He has taken the “undercover date” idea very seriously, dressing up in jeans and t-shirt, something you had never seen he do before. He could wear anything and still look gorgeous.
“Hey, sorry I’m late”, you call, nearing the table. He waves and get up to greet you.
“I’m glad you came”, he says, pulling out a chair for you to sit. You thank him.
“Yeah, of course I did. It was hard get rid of the press, but I managed to do it.”
You chat about everything. He tells about his travels. You talk about your nightclub, which, incredibly, seems to have become more popular. You drink and eat greasy chips, and much for your surprise, he seems to actually enjoy the food. Around you, clients come and go, and by the time the bar is about to close you two still have much to talk about. He invites you to his place, and you accept.
The alcohol makes you lightheaded, and, as you lay on the backseat of the car, your head on his shoulder, you kiss him. He is a good kissed, better than you would’ve imagined.
“I love you”, you whisper. “I’ve loved you for a long time. It hurt when you left without telling me. You were my only friend, you were my first love.”
He pulls back, putting a little distance between your bodies. Just a little, but enough for you to wonder if you might have said the wrong thing. You know these kind of situations are delicate, to say the least.
“I’m sorry”, he says finally. “I should have told you I was going to travel. It wasn’t planned, it was more of an impulse. I never meant to hurt you”
“So it’s cool?”
“What?”
“That I said ‘I love you’ .”
“It’s perfect”, he tells you, before diving in for another kiss.
You don’t remember much of the car ride. Only that soon you were on his manor, going up three flights of stairs. There were hands and mouths everywhere, and you were sure that by the time you two decided to sleep, it was way past sunrise.
* * *
You wake up first, his naked body besides you. You tiptoe to the balcony, not wanting to wake him. The sun is high on the horizon, casting a beautiful glow on the tree line. You stay out there, enjoying the view for a while, before going back inside. Bruce’s still sound asleep, you lay back on the bed, thinking of how you wouldn’t mind waking up next to him every single day. You wonder if behind his closed eyelids he’s dreaming of you.
“Morning honey”, he says with an yawn.
“I think it’s afternoon already”, you laugh. He smiles and kisses you again.
And, in that moment, you know that no matter what happens, he’ll be by your side, and that is all that you need.
35 notes
·
View notes
Text
little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 21 of 29)
part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12 part 13 part 14 part 15 part 16 part 17 part 18 part 19 part 20 part 21 part 22 part 23 part 24 part 25 part 26 part 27 part 28 part 29
Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Paul and Gene go on a date and discuss groupies. Gene muses.
Paul ended up driving them to a Japanese restaurant about an hour later, even though they’d had Chinese takeout just a few days prior. Gene felt a bit underdressed in Paul’s tee and waistband-digging jeans, for all he was trying to avoid getting recognized. Then again, Paul was only in the other blouse he’d bought and the jeans from yesterday, so maybe it didn’t matter.
But it felt like it did. It kept nagging at him. Paul hadn’t dressed up, but he had put on a little makeup. He’d even tried to do something with his hair. He knew exactly what this was. He knew Gene really was taking him out.
Gene thought he’d be more nervous about the whole deal than he was. Paul was still getting the door for him, and part of Gene hated himself a bit for realizing he’d miss that, too. It wasn’t going to be as endearing once he was back to normal. None of Paul’s little quirks would be.
Gene felt ashamed over it. He really did. Paul was the same person, with or without tits, but that didn’t mean Gene was going to stay interested once they were out of the equation. Paul had said he wouldn’t be. And that really hadn’t even been the only time. Paul had kept hinting at it long before. I bet you’d rather me stay a girl. It was a horrible thing to even own up to fantasizing about. Even if Paul had dealt with it fairly well, at least over the last few days. He’d taken to all the superficial trappings of being a chick pretty readily, the makeup and heels and so on, but that was probably because all that was stuff he already did as a man. Beyond that, he wasn’t really playing at being a girl very well. Wasn’t trying to.
Could he really feel the same way about Paul once they took care of the curse? Once Paul felt ready to give it up? And it’d have to be soon; even not counting the tour, eventually, Paul’s parents or Bill Aucoin or someone would call in a missing person report. Would he still want Paul then?
Gene wasn’t sure. He’d lay a woman whether she was pretty or not, but he’d never fucked a guy, and never been interested in the prospect. But it kept nagging at him anyway. Trying to picture Paul back to normal was almost hard, when he was sitting there in front of him. Looking cute as hell with his hair fluffed like cotton candy and another low-cut blouse on. Looking happy. Normally, Gene would get a little disappointed, hanging around once the clothes were off a chick, even one he was dating. He never could help feeling like something had been—oh, not spoiled, exactly, but—like something had been… lived-in, maybe. Like a month into owning a car, when the clean smell of the dealership was gone. No longer new, and disappointingly his.
But watching Paul chatting amiably about nothing—no, not nothing, he was talking about maybe trying to visit Japan off-tour, sometime, get some real sightseeing in, instead of hasty bus rides—just brought back to mind the image of a couple hours ago. Those pretty lips wrapped around his cock, or, almost better yet, parted in a plaintive cry. Fuck, Paul could scream, and it was somehow almost appealing, how he kept trying not to do it but ended up moaning all the louder.
Gene didn’t feel like he’d lost interest once he’d gotten Paul naked. It had just given him more to explore. Not just those sensitive breasts or the taste of his juices, either. Not everything was carnal. He hadn’t realized the guy had any freckles, for one, although maybe some of them had just been buried in the carpet of his chest hair prior. Maybe he’d just never had a reason to look.
Gene’s stomach growled, and he decided he needed to quit while he was ahead. Paul was starting to look at him funny, and nudging him under the table with his foot. They ordered platters of teriyaki chicken, fried rice, and sushi rolls, Gene carefully checking the ingredient list and grilling the waitress about the fish used while Paul, predictably, ignored kosher and got exactly what he wanted.
“Maybe that’s why you got cursed,” Gene teased, once Paul started eating his California rolls. Paul made a face.
“Very funny.” He took a long gulp of his water. The guy had to have been starving after throwing up last night. “She was just… I don’t know if I can explain it.”
Paul hadn’t tried to explain it, either. Not that Gene had pressed, back in the limo last night, when Paul had looked pale and shaken-up about the whole deal. But he’d been curious. Paul and Carol had been down in the basement nearly past the twenty minutes he’d allotted. Long enough for Paul to find out exactly why she’d done that to him.
“Go ahead.”
Paul hesitated.
“It’s… Gene, do you ever think about the groupies? I mean, really think about them.”
“No.”
“I didn’t, either.” Paul seemed to try to laugh, and then he wiped at his mouth. “I… I remember getting kind of dopey over some chick when we were still playing ballrooms. Then I found out she’d let half the New York Dolls screw her.”
“I don’t know why that stopped you.”
“Because that meant it wasn’t… that meant I didn’t matter to her, if she’d just let me the same way she’d let them. It was too… shit, I can’t be talking like this out in public.”
“Why not?”
Paul stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head.
“Because people can hear me.”
“Barely anyone’s here, Paul.”
Paul took another few bits of rice, using his chopsticks. He still wasn’t good with them, but he liked to pretend. World traveler Paul. Meanwhile, Gene was diving into his own rice with a fork, getting easily triple as much per bite. Far more efficient.
“Yeah, but we’re not in the Village or any of that shit.”
“Are you that afraid of getting looked at dirty? You know that’s all anyone would do.”
“I’ll tell you in the car,” he said, and reached for another piece of sushi.
--
Paul made good on his promise. Once lunch was done (the owner had actually dropped by their table and given them small bowls of ice cream on the house, which Paul seemed very chipper about) and he was out of the restaurant parking lot, he started in again. Offhand and abrupt, one hand worryingly on the radio dial. He seemed to be trying to find a traffic report.
“I guess I thought the girls got off on it.”
“No shit, Paul.”
“No, listen. I thought they all did that with every rockstar that came to town.” Paul finally stopped fooling with the dial, turning up the volume. Gene half-wondered why, when Paul didn’t even live in New York proper anymore, and probably wasn’t going to hit boatloads of traffic on the way back. “I thought… I hoped they understood how it was.”
“They all know they’re never gonna see you again.” Gene shifted uncomfortably. “You have fun one night, and that’s it. They take a good memory back.”
“Carol didn’t.”
Gene didn’t answer for awhile. The silence wafted up like summer haze above the pavement. When Paul didn’t elaborate, Gene spoke again.
“Why did she do that to you? Just because she didn’t have a good time with you?”
“No. That’s not it. She just… shit, Gene.” Paul let out a long breath. “She wanted something I couldn’t give her.”
“She wanted to date you? Paul, that’s really not your fault, if she didn’t understand—”
“Well, I didn’t deserve to get cursed over it, but… fuck, I don’t know.” Paul’s eyes were dark. Not unreadable, just pensive. “We go out there and we say all that bullshit. We love the fans. We love the girls. We… we do the teenybopper mags. It… Bill’s so smart, y’know, you got the girls that want you and the ones that want me and Peter and Ace and so on, right on down to a type—”
“Paul, I don’t think I’m following you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you saying you wanna be honest with the girls? You want to put in print that they don’t matter to you?” Gene shook his head. “It’s showbiz, Paul. You can’t be everything to everybody. The girls ought to know better. It’s not on you if any of them really think they’ve got a chance.”
“We’ve let them think they do.” Paul was starting to look a little nerved-out by his own words. “They’re not getting that idea out of thin air, Gene. We… we’ve got a little bit of responsibility here.”
“I’m allergic to that word in that context.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. It makes me think of paternity lawsuits.”
He’d expected Paul to laugh, but he didn’t. Just kept driving in silence, switching the station again once they started playing music. It seemed like he was going into the traffic, rather than away from it. Maybe he’d wanted to stop somewhere before heading back home.
“They’ve got feelings, though, don’t they?” God, Paul was still at it. “I didn’t ever mean to hurt them, but I did. I didn’t really start to understand until…”
The ice cream felt suddenly like a brick of milk in Gene’s stomach.
“Until what?”
“Until you said we could take a picture for your album.”
“Paul, that was a shitty joke, I didn’t mean—”
“I know. I know.” Paul sighed, and beeped the horn at the taxi in front of him. Gene saw the cabbie roll down the window and stick his hand out, flipping him off. Paul returned the favor, but kept on talking as he did it. “I figured if… if I didn’t wanna be treated like that, like something to… to collect, then maybe some of them didn’t, either.”
Gene couldn’t think of anything to say. That was rare enough to be worrisome. His girls were different from Paul’s, anyway. He didn’t have that sappy, sensitive lover image that Paul did, that’d make for clingy mental cases. His girls just wanted kinky sex, topped off with his tongue between their legs. But he couldn’t shrug off the feeling that Paul was onto something. Something a little bit terrible.
He’d been on the road long enough to get a sense of demographics. The girls in the Midwest and places like Utah, in their way, were a real treat, eager to do anything to please. Gene hadn’t ever even had a threesome, but he’d fucked around a bit with BDSM, that kind of thing. He’d noticed the cornfed, good-girl, hometown types, they were the most likely to be up to indulging something weird.
�� He’d thought it was just because they were repressed. Wanted to let loose before they ended up fat and married with five kids. It had never hit them that it might be because they were just naïve enough to buy into what KISS was trying to sell.
“Maybe.”
He felt Paul’s eyes back on him briefly, and then they were back on the road. Gene’s sense of direction wasn’t the greatest, but he knew for sure now that the route Paul was taking went nowhere near his house. He cleared his throat, putting his hand on Paul’s thigh.
“Paul, you’re not… I don’t want to just take your picture. You mean more to me than that.”
It was a couple of seconds before Paul nodded, resting his hand on top of Gene’s, lacing their fingers together.
“Thanks, Gene.”
“Don’t thank me. It’s true.” And then, because that still didn’t seem sufficient, because worry was starting to sink into Paul’s forehead, he leaned over on impulse, kissing him on the cheek, lips mostly brushing Paul’s hair instead. Paul’s one-handed grip on the steering wheel only faltered briefly, pink rising in his face. “Where are we going?”
“You don’t know?” Paul started to smile. “C’mon, Gene. You took me out. I gotta return the favor somehow.”
“It’s New York, you could be taking us anywhere.”
“We’re heading to Central Park.” Paul patted Gene’s hand, and then shifted it to dig around in the middle console. “Real romantic, I know. Feed some geese, get out there in a rowboat… c’mon and check for me, Gene, I think I’ve got just enough change for the parking meter, even…”
“What about the carousel?”
“Sure, if you want—”
“Great.” Gene’s hand was inching gradually up Paul’s thigh. “I think it’d be a fun ride.”
Paul smacked his hand away.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
You Can't Jump the Track - Part 6
Here it is on AO3, if you prefer
***
Michael’s had second, third, tenth thoughts about this meeting today. Maybe he should have just gotten in his car and headed straight back to Albuquerque. He, he’s a genius. Like, whether he reconstructs a fucking spaceship or not, he’s going places. He’s going to get grant funding, going to get hired, going to get tenured somewhere. Like, he has a massive advantage. His brain, it just… it just works better than human brains, when it comes to this shit.
But… but would he ever be satisfied with anything other than putting his ship back together, finding some answers about where he’s from? It’s the whole reason he’s an astrophysicist, the entire purpose behind all his years of school, all the effort he’s put in. He didn’t come this far to let Alex Fucking Manes, of all god damn people, get in his way.
They said they’d meet at 10:15, at Bean Me Up. Well, Alex said they’d meet at 10:15. Michael had wanted to meet at 9, like a normal person, but Alex had shot that down. “Too crowded,” he’d said. That was the whole point of this, though – a public place, less chance of Alex getting all twitchy and shooting him, knocking him out, drugging him… take your damn pick. Michael had acquiesced, though. Didn’t mean he was going to go in unprepared. It’s 10am, and he’s fully planning to get the lay of the land before Alex…
Alex is already here. Parked on his ass at a corner table, back to the wall, looking jumpy as hell. Michael heaves a sigh and walks over to him.
Alex narrows his eyes. “You’re early.”
“So are you.” Alex shrugs a shoulder, and Michael looks down at his mug. Coffee, black. “I’m going to go get something.”
He orders a latte and two pastries. Can’t hurt to try to butter Alex up, get him to let his walls down at least a little. He goes to pay, and the woman at the counter shakes her head. “On the house,” she says. Michael frowns a little, not understanding. She flicks her eyes toward Alex. “You’re with him, right?” Michael gives a small nod, and the woman nods back, leans in a bit. “It’s good he’s out. It’s… it’s been a long time since he’s been in here.”
Something… something in Michael’s chest catches, as he hears the woman’s words. He knows he can’t really stare at Alex right now, can feel his gaze boring into him as it is, but he just… he wishes he knew what happened. No, more than that, he wishes that whatever happened to Alex had just… never happened. He’s not sure if he should include himself in that wish, too.
He musters up a smile for the cashier and leaves a nice tip, then uses a little hint of power to balance everything and walk back to Alex’s table. Because he can. It had taken hours to get his powers back, even after he’d safely returned to the hotel room last night. Scientist that he is, he’d taken little samples of blood and urine as soon as he’d gotten back, and had stashed them in the room’s mini fridge. At the time, he hadn’t been sure if he was even going to stay overnight. There were only so many places to stay near Roswell, and Alex was a local, surely knew them all. If he did decide to sic his dad or the government on him, it wouldn’t take them long to find him.
Dammit, though, he wanted that piece of the ship in Alex’s bunker. He wanted the pieces at the Emporium and the warehouse, too, like Alex had mentioned. And he wanted to know what was on Jim Valenti’s computer. The way Alex is sipping his coffee, glowering at him, he’s still not sure if he made the right choice.
“Want a bearclaw or a cinnamon roll?” Michael asks, spreading out his offerings.
Alex stares at him. “You have a preference?” Michael shakes his head, and Alex grabs the cinnamon roll. Chews it greedily.
There hadn’t been much food at the cabin. Fresh food, anyway. Lots of canned goods. And he hadn’t seen the fridge. Just doesn’t… doesn’t seem like Alex really takes care of himself all that well. Michael frowns. Not that he has a ton of room to talk. He mostly just lives off of takeout, at grad school. He’s so busy at the lab that his apartment’s mostly just a crash pad. A place to sleep and, very occasionally, have sex…
Fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking about that right now. He takes in Alex’s appearance. He… he’s still Alex. Even with the long hair, the, the injury, the facial hair…
Wait.
Michael narrows his eyes. “You, you trim your beard?”
Alex’s eyes widen momentarily before he looks down. Avoids Michael’s gaze. “I… a little. Was due for it.”
It’s neater. Michael can actually see Alex’s jawline, the shape of his face. In fact, Alex’s whole appearance is a little more… put together? He’s wearing a thick flannel shirt, and his hair looks freshly washed.
“How’s the cinnamon roll?”
“It’s good.”
“Bearclaw’s good too. You come here a lot?”
Alex scoffs a little. “No.”
Michael looks over toward the counter and inadvertently locks eyes with the cashier, who is watching them with a hopeful look on her face. Clearly embarrassed at being caught, she looks away quickly, and Michael smirks. “Well that’s interesting, cause the cashier gave me all this for free once she figured out I was meeting you.”
Alex rolls his eyes a little. “Yeah, that would be Gina. She’s worked here a while, even back before…” He trails off. Reaches for his coffee mug, then pauses and fixes Michael with a flat stare. “They had a big parade for me here, when I got back. After I got hurt. Whole damn town knows who I am.”
Michael quirks an eyebrow. “Bet you love that.”
Alex gives a dark little laugh. “You know it.”
They sit quietly for a few minutes after that, just eating their pastries, drinking their coffee. They observe each other, too. Michael sees how Alex scans each new person that comes in the coffeeshop, watches the way he tracks Michael’s every movement...
“Didn’t know that you’d actually meet me here today,” Alex finally says.
“Almost didn’t,” Michael replies, voice serious. “After how yesterday went…” He leans in. “You can’t do something like that to me again, okay? Not if we’re gonna work together.”
Alex’s eyes widen. “Is that what we’re doing? Working together?”
Annoyance flares up. “You tell me, Manes. I’m sitting here at the place of your choosing, at the time of your choosing, after a… less than warm welcome yesterday.”
Alex seems a little chastened at that, bites his lip. “Yeah.”
Michael looks at him expectantly. “Just ‘yeah’?”
Alex’s brow furrows. “What is it you want me to say, Guerin?”
“Um, sorry, maybe?”
“Fuck…” Alex mutters. “Look. You were on my property, you tell me you’re…” he drops his voice, “not from around here, I find out that Jim had a fucking bunker below ground where he was hoarding spaceship parts and a computer with some pretty advanced security features on it, trying to keep god knows what hidden?” Alex is flexing his hand almost unconsciously. “It was a lot.”
“Yeah,” Michael says tightly.
Alex sighs. “I’m running some shit on the computer as we speak. I’ll probably be through the encryption by the time I get back, and I’ll know more about whatever Jim was trying to hide.”
“You’re really not going to apologize?”
“Jesus…” Alex mutters. “I’m sorry, okay?” He leans back in his chair, glares at Michael. Then all too suddenly, he’s raking a hand over his face, into his hair. “Look,” he says, voice low. “I’m kind of fucked up. The military, my dad, my leg… it, it all kind of did a number on me, okay?” He shakes his head. “I’m not, not great with people. Never was, really – I mean, you remember high school, all the bullshit?”
Michael frowns. “That, that wasn’t you though, it was everyone else.”
Alex pauses at that, and there’s something in his face, something almost… surprised? It’s gone quickly, though. “I, I don’t spend a lot of time around people. Don’t trust them.”
Michael gives a half-smile. “Well, lucky for you I’m not a person, then.”
It startles Alex, Michael can tell, to the point where he actually laughs a little, takes a long sip of coffee. “Guess that’s true,” he finally says. And for a moment, Alex’s gaze drops away from Michael’s eyes, moves down to his lips, his neck, his chest. Alex swallows hard, then, and looks down. Takes another sip of coffee. “Look, Guerin, I am sorry about the way I reacted yesterday. It was overkill, and it definitely… definitely got us off on the wrong foot, especially if we are going to be working together. I feel like, like we should start over.”
And somehow, Michael can sense that this is a big deal to Alex. That this admission is costing him something, and he wants to reward it. “Okay,” he says, voice softer now. He clears his throat a little, and affects an overly surprised face. “Oh my god, Alex Manes? Dude, it’s been like ten years! How’ve you been?”
Alex gives him a confused look.
“Can’t believe I ran into you here, man – what are the chances?”
And Alex seems to get it now. Rolls his eyes, but plays along. “Michael Guerin, right?”
“That’s me,” Michael says. He takes a breath. “Always has been, Alex. Really.” He swallows. “What have you been up to, these past ten years?”
“Joined the Air Force.”
“No shit…”
They talk for over two hours. Almost three. Gina is beaming.
If the purpose of today’s outing was to build some trust back up, it’s working. Michael gets to hear about some of Alex’s military buddies, some of his travels, and Michael shares information about his research and his life in Albuquerque. They avoid hard topics. They’re both tentative at first, but by the end Michael sees some of Alex’s old dry wit coming through, some of the snark from back in school.
Then Michael’s stomach rumbles. It’s loud, and he knows Alex hears it, too. “What do you say we go by the Crashdown? Get some lunch?” Michael suggests.
And all of a sudden, Alex’s face shutters. “It’s probably crazy right now, with the lunch crowd.”
Michael frowns a little. “It… it’s Roswell. How crazy could it be?”
Alex sighs. “Listen, I’m glad you came here today, but I’ve got leftovers at my place I should probably eat, so…”
“Seriously?” Michael sighs. “Is… do you want, like, a break from me? Or is it something about the Crashdown specifically?”
Alex looks uncomfortable. “It’s not you, Michael. It’s just… god, it’s just that, since I got back, I just… I don’t like it when there’s a bunch of people, you know? It’s hard to keep track of everyone, and I can’t just like, relax, okay? It’s a bunch of PTSD shit that makes me real fun to be around, so I just spare people the pleasure.”
Michael purses his lips. “How ‘bout takeout?” Alex looks at him. “I didn’t just come back to Roswell for the first time in ten years to not have the enchiladas.”
Alex looks thoughtful. “Where would we eat it? My place? Your hotel?”
Michael shakes his head quickly. “No. Don’t get me wrong, Manes, this morning was real nice. I feel like we made some progress, you know? But I still don’t want to be in a room alone with you.” Alex huffs a breath. “There still that park, though? By city hall? With the picnic benches?” Michael looks down. “Used to eat dinner out there sometimes when the weather was nice and I had no place to go…”
He chances a glance at Alex. Any irritation that was previously there is gone now, and he’s looking at Michael with full attention. “The park sounds good,” he finally says, softly. “Enchiladas sound good, too. It’s been a long time,” he murmurs. He frowns then, looks at Michael. “You mind going in to pick them up? I, I’ll give you money for them,” he adds quickly. “It’s just that Arturo, he’s Liz’s dad, Liz Ortecho?”
“Sure, I know,” says Michael, and of course he knows. How many times has it been now that Liz and Max have gotten together, broken up, come back together… But shit, does Alex know that? Michael is trying to keep Max and Isobel off the radar as much as possible, and the Liz connection makes it harder to do that.
“She and I were close in high school,” Alex says, as if Michael doesn’t remember. “Haven’t talked to her in a really long time, but if her dad sees me, he’ll definitely want to talk, probably try to comp my meal, and I just…” He sighs wearily. “It’s been a long day for me already. Like, this is probably more people than I usually see in weeks, and it’s not even 1pm.”
“I’ll get the enchiladas,” Michael says. “But you do have to answer one question first.”
“Okay,” Alex says warily.
“Little Green Man Sauce or Red Planet Sauce?”
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Reader x Beetlejuice: Body Positivity
“Babe babe babe, I am in a big ol bad mood and I’m in need of some Beej/plus size!reader shit. Like, I’m talkin a badass, confident plus size reader who’s getting bullied in public and Beej thinks he’s gonna have to step in and teach those punks some manners and she’s just like “nah. I got this” and LAYS INTO THEM and Beej gets kinda (REALLY) turned on by it and then 👀👀👀 pls and thank I love you v much”
This prompt was originally sent to @sapphic-florals from @beetlebitchywitch.
My interest was piqued and I decided to write a “Reader x Beetlejuice: Body Positivity” fic for myself. It’s inspired by personal experience.
---
(Cursing, Li’l Shits saying Immature Bullshit, Gender Neutral)
You’d always been self-conscious about your body. Making avid efforts to avoid your reflection in mirrors and windows, buying clothing that wouldn’t draw too much attention to your “problem areas”, trying to hide who you were under paper-thin armor that would have been easily shattered if the right person made the wrong comment about your body.
Lately, though, you hadn’t been feeling quite as meek and vulnerable as you used to. You’d met someone, someone particularly special: Beetlejuice. “The Ghost with the Most” as he called himself; he wasn’t particularly tall, rather stout, had patches of moss growing across him, bright green hair that shifted in color with his mood, and was most certainly dead.
Even if he couldn’t remember how he died (or if he died at all) death didn’t seem to slow him down. Beetlejuice was vibrant, bursting with bravado and vigor with all that he set out to do. Even if he failed he bounced back with a smile and with you on his hip his smile had only grown brighter.
Being dead meant that not everyone could see him, you could, and some of his friends in Connecticut could as well, but not many others. This made you feel special as Beetlejuice was yours and you were free to indulge in his undivided attention and adoration at a moment's notice.
You’d been pumping yourself up to walk into the department store.
“Babe, it’s easy,” he sat beside you in the car, “You walk in, you walk out,” He rolled his wrist, opening his hand and presenting you with his bright gold eyes in his palm, “Eyes on the prize hot stuff.”
“Beej!” You laughed, nudging his shoulder. With a “pop” his eyes rolled back into their sockets.
“I know it’s quick. It’s just… the clothing section. I have to walk past all those mirrors to get what I need.”
Beetlejuice sighed, “Yeah I know they make you nervous… but we’ve been working on this,” he gestured to his problem areas and yours, “Together. You’ve been feelin’ better, I’ve been feelin’ better. Y’know? You just make a quick dash in and we’re home in 15 minutes tops banging it out.”
You laughed again, “All you think about is sex… a toaster could make you horny.”
“Only if I saw my reflection on it.” He slicked backed his hair and shot you the double-guns, his cheesy smile winning you over and you felt like you had gathered the courage to go into the store.
Walking towards the store your ghostly boyfriend floated behind you, setting off a few car alarms, popping all four tires of a Maserati, and stealing a license plate that read “MMM BBQ” all in all; a pretty normal day out with Beetlejuice.
You’d gone through the entrance with your head low to avoid your reflection and proceeded directly through the clothing section, eyes forward.
What you didn’t count on was a young man stomping his feet behind you in sync with every step you took. You hardly noticed him, kids being kids, or whatever.
Beetlejuice wasn’t so fond of this kid’s behavior and with a snap of his fingers, a mannequin fell in front of the young man, preventing him from following either of you two any further.
You marched further into the back of the store, Beetlejuice meandering behind you as he stopped to ogle the treasures in the jewelry department.
Again, the young man appeared, this time with an entourage of his equally obnoxious peers. You paid them no mind, continuing forward, but noticed that they were making a mess of things and making snide comments about women in the store.
You retrieved your prize, exactly what you wanted. Clutching it close to your chest, you were elated, just one left and it was all yours.
“Oh, shit guys! It’s pulling me in!” The young men were back, and one of them walking backwards towards you. You raised a brow, What the Hell?
“This fatass got me in their orbit! I can’t escape!”
The entire world stopped on a dime.
It finally dawned on your what had been happening, the stomping behind you was the young man creating a mock-earthquake, the snide comments were about your body, and now these little bastards had teamed up to target you personally.
“Want a twinkie, bitch? They’re on aisle 12!”
“This pig fell off the farmer’s truck!”
“I didn’t know the Pillsbury DoughBoy was in town!”
The group cackled amongst one another; unbeknownst to them that a raging demon was frothing at the mouth behind them. Beetlejuice’s hair was red and threatening to burst into flames with the sheer rage he felt towards these little bastards. Looking up you noticed cracks appearing in the roof, Beetlejuice was going to crush these young men alive and as remotely satisfying it would have been to let them die you raised your hand, signaling Beetlejuice to calm down.
“You know what you little shits?” You turned to them, “I am plus size! I am overweight! And I’m fine with that!”
The young men looked cluelessly amongst each other.
“I am fat! But you’re all worthless, brainless little fucks! Targeting people in a god damn department store? Ran out of people to bully on the playground?” You stalked towards them, “You think you can talk to me like shit and get away with it? No. This isn’t some stupid little fantasy where you fuckers get to walk away scot-free. This is the real world and I’m in control of my world and my space, and you don’t get to tell me how to feel!”
Looming over them and stalking after them, each young man peeled away opting to hide in the aisles and racks, “I am loved! I am happy! I am in control and you hopeless, worthless, useless little fucks will rot for the rest of your lives knowing that you will get called out on your shit!”
The last young man stood alone, cowering just a few feet from you, “And now it looks like you’re all alone. You were strong when you had your little friends and now you have nothing left to say?”
He was silent.
“That’s what I thought. I am fat. But you’re absolutely nothing.”
You took your intended purchase and stormed off, leaving the young men shattered in your wake and your demon boyfriend’s hair glowing bright green.
“Babe!” He swept you off your feet the second you were outside the store, “That was amazing!” Beaming ear to ear he kissed your face, “I can’t fucking believe it! You destroyed them! I mean seriously! They were shaking! I’ve scared some shitty Breathers in my day but Hell you didn’t even need to rip your face off to do it! You just… did it! I’m so proud!”
You chuckled and hugged him back, “Well, I thought… ‘What would Beetlejuice do?’ and I knew you’d be angry… so I took all my anger and made it into something constructive; to defend myself. I deserve to feel good about myself even if those little fuckers don’t think I deserve to.”
“You’re absolutely right Babe.”
You went to the car while Beetlejuice stood behind for a moment, watching the young men awkwardly shuffle out of the store toward their bikes. With a snap of his fingers, he vanished, and their bikes were instantly compressed into a tangled, lumpy cube and ball.
29 notes
·
View notes
Note
Prompt: Canon divergent of 1x09 when Malex see each other again. Maybe Alex doesn’t walk away when he realizes how afraid Guerin is of him doing just that... again. Whatever you want to write/can picture out of it. That scene broke me a little bit with Michael whispering “is this really how it ends?” like he was desperate for Alex to really see him/understand him/love him. I LOVE YOUR WRITING! THANK YOU.
Alex has just realized he needs something a lot stronger than beer when Michael saunters in.
There have been moments like this in his life before, moments of realization and epiphany that are so life altering he can’t imagine being the same person he was before he knew them. The self blame is easy. He’s pretty great at it. The truth is the truth. Alex has never been one of those people who believes it’s subjective. Somethings true or it’s not, there is no grey area. He is still trying to wrap his head around the truth when the biggest lie of his life saunters in wearing a black hat and a smirk and sits next to him. Alex’s only thought is that he has to get out of there. He can’t get drunk and risk spilling the truth, not to anyone here and especially not to Michael. He tries to get out and Michael picks this, of all times, to come after him.
“Is this really how it ends?” Michael says, like he hasn’t been lying to Alex’s face every moment of every second since the day they met. He has no right to look as anguished as he does. He smiles, but it’s tortured, “the sex was epic.”
Alex feels sick.
He’s had sex that is literally out of this world, because that sex was with an actual alien. All the movies he’s seen that have scenes of probing flash before his eyes. None apply, thank god, but that doesn’t make it better. He’s had sex with an alien, but more importantly he’s had sex with someone who lied to him the whole time. Does the man he loved even exist? Michael leans forward and Alex forces himself not to react. He refuses to give Michael even this fraction of something. He’ll keep his hurt if that’s the only thing he gets.
“So shouldn’t the breakup involves some pyrotechnics? Scream? Break some stuff?”
Alex decides he’s going to kill him. That’s all there is to it. He’s going to kill him because this beautiful, smug, god damn telekinetic alien is standing in front of him asking if he’s going to break stuff. Michael is a genius but Alex isn’t stupid and he wants to question when Michael forgot that. Does he think Alex’s brain is in the desert with the rest of his leg and a few pints of his blood? His brain is fine, he’s undergone a lot of testing after everything. He’s fine. But apparently Michael thinks otherwise.
“Really make it feel over,” Michael says, his voice dropping.
This close, it’s impossible not to look at all of him. He’s shades of honey and gold and Alex wonders how it’s possible to love and hate someone in the same way, at the same moment, in the same breath. He’s been betrayed before, but it’s always been easier to switch off the love portion. He’s always been able to guard himself against the pain. He takes what he can when the truth comes out. But there’s no satisfaction, no promise of anything soothing. There’s just Michael and all of his sharp edges. Alex can see the plea underneath, the same look he always gets when they reach this moment and have given everything they have to what is between them. The moment before they have to push apart and return to whatever they came from. Before they do it all over again.
“Sometimes the world ends with a whimper, Guerin.”
He knows the exact moment he breaks Michael’s heart, but there’s no satisfaction in it. Actually the look on Michael’s face is an exact mirror of what he’s feeling. Only Michael wears his heart on his sleeve and Alex has long since learned to tuck it away. He’s hurt Michael in the same instant as he’s being hurt by him. It’s a low, bully move. But Roswell does that to people, it brings out the worst and the hurt. He pulls away and makes it almost to the door before he glances back and sees that Michael is still standing there.
He looks lost.
Alex never looks back. His mom told him that looking back only made you want what was left behind. Michael looks small and lost as he stands there, he looks like he doesn’t know where to go now. Alex thinks of that kid sitting in the back of his truck, the one who couldn’t fathom why anyone would be nice to him just because. He thinks of his father and what that kindness cost Michael in the end. The bullied become bullies, that’s always how it’s supposed to go. The good ones like Kyle fight back but it’s a part of you. He knows Michael played an instrumental role in keeping him from that. All the hurt parts of him say to go and leave him standing there.
Alex storms back over.
“So the world—“
“I know,” he says and everything stops.
Maybe the world has ended.
Michael’s has. All the color drains out of his face before he actually has the audacity to smile that stupid smile. Only now Alex can see it for the lie that it is. His whole posture changes as he tries to inflate, make himself bigger like that’s going to cover the lie. It’s a bullshit, well honed move but Michael still tries.
“You know what?” He says.
“Oh spare me,” Alex says and look purposefully at the movie poster for Cowboys & Aliens that MiMi hung up the year they all turned legal, “the hats a nice touch.”
It’s a struggle to keep up but he lets Michael drag him out of the bar, pausing only long enough to grab his hat though Alex isn’t sure he’s close enough for it. It occurs to him that he’s being dragged out by a literal cowboy alien. But it’s less funny when Michael gets them into the alleyway and makes sure he’s got his feet under him. Any mask he has on falls away as he stares at him, looks away and then looks back at him. Alex doesn’t expect an explanation from him. He isn’t sure he wants one. Or that there is even one to give. How the hell do you explain something like this?
“How do you know?” Michael asks.
“Massive government conspiracy,” Alex says, “I’ve known for months.”
Some of the color comes back into Michael’s face.
“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” Michael demands, stepping forward. Alex steps back. Everything shifts and Michael becomes small again, “are you afraid of me?” Michael asks, toying with the edge of his hat.
“No!” Alex says, “would you stop doing that? You lied to me for our entire relationship—“
“That’s not—“ Michael cuts in.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out? This whole town thought I was stupid, I never thought that you felt the same way—“ he keeps going.
“Alex—“ Michael’s face goes from scared to confused.
“But I guess it makes sense, I couldn’t protect you from my father so why would you—“
“Alex, stop!”
The dumpster lid bangs shut, making Alex whip around. He looks from the lid to Michael, whose eyes move from the lid to him. It’s one thing to read it on paper, it’s another for Michael’s powers to occur in front of him. The thing that keeps rolling through his mind, even more than the fact that Michael is an alien and thinks he would never notice, is the fact that Michael hasn’t used his powers. If Alex had the powers that he has, his father would never lay a hand on him. But he’s watched his father literally break Michael’s hand with a hammer and nothing happened. Michael is looking at him with complete horror.
“You think you couldn’t protect me?” He says.
Alex blows out a breath.
“We’re not talking about that,” he says.
“The hell we’re not,” Michael shoots back, “what did you mean—“
“We’re talking about you being an alien,” he cuts him off.
Michael shuts his mouth and Alex wonders, belatedly, if that’s somehow a bad term. Michael hates being called all sorts of things. But figuring out if alien is off limits is, admittedly, not a bridge that Alex ever thought that they would have to cross. He can see the spark of that same defiance as the kid who tried to deny a sleeping bag was his bed. Back then maybe secrets were okay between them but this, this is something else. Alex wishes he could logic his way out of the hurt, but he knows that isn’t how the world works.
“What?” Alex says, knowing that he’s not going to get answers if Michael shuts down more.
“It’s weird hearing you say that,” Michael says carefully.
“You’d be used to it if you told me the truth!” Alex says.
Michael is suddenly a lot closer and his back is literally against the wall. Alex was determined to rip the band aide off and walk away, not call Michael out on is bullshit. He doesn’t give him anything and pulls himself up to his full—and slightly higher—height. It doesn’t seem to bother Michael as much as it’s important to get him to understand. Alex would be annoyed if he wasn’t trying to not be affected by Michael’s proximity and contact.
“If you know, then you know why I couldn’t tell you,” Michael says, his eyes searching for the truth.
“I wouldn’t have said anything,” he says.
Michael gives him a look and Alex has to admit he might have a point. Nothing is ever a secret in this place for long. Except, apparently, stuff like that. He refuses to admit that though.
“I wanted to tell you,” Michael says.
“But you didn’t,” Alex shoots back.
“Not like you were around much,” Michael says and Alex opens his mouth, “you were trying to protect me.”
“I said we weren’t talking about that,” Alex snaps.
“You can’t win every argument from now on with ‘but you didn’t tell me you were an alien, Michael’,” he says, his eyes searching Alex’s face intently. He doesn’t know how the air is suddenly electrified.
“Watch me,” Alex shoots back.
Michael dives forward closing the already minuscule space between them, but Alex is dragging him forward already. Kissing an alien with full knowledge of what they are is, as it turns out, secondary to kissing a man you’re in love with. Michael’s lips are warm and dry and he tastes like cheap whiskey. The stronger stuff that Alex was thinking about leaving to go and get. Michael pushes him back against the wall, intent on kissing him senseless but his arm remains shoved there, just to make sure Alex can balance. They never kiss in public and somehow the adrenaline of it makes Alex weak in the knees.
“Door,” he pants out.
“On it,” Michael says and there’s the sound of a lock turning before their back to kissing each other.
His leg is going to kill him and they have a lot they need to talk about, but Alex can only think of Maria’s description of not bringing Michael home to his non existent mother, especially as he fights to stay quiet when Michael kisses his neck and works a leg in between his. Alex grips his shoulders and tries not to moan as Michael pushes them together. He may or may not have had several fantasies about something along these lines. So for the moment, he puts all the other stuff aside and focuses instead on kissing the man holding him up against the wall.
The lights go out.
All of them.
“God damn it,” Michael breathes against his neck and then turns, “what?!” He snarls over his shoulder.
“We need to talk,” Max says, “it’s about Isobel.”
In the dark Michael’s hands tighten on him, even as a Alex prepares to go. Isobel is Michael’s sister and despite everything, Alex knows that means the world to Michael. But Michael’s hands hold firm and the leg still pressed in between Alex’s doesn’t move. His eyes go from Max to Alex, Alex nods to show it’s okay. Michael steps back and they rearrange their clothing and as many signs of what they were doing as possible. Alex accepts Michael’s arm for balance as they make their way over to Max. He and Max acknowledge each other quickly, but before he can move past them Michael grabs his hand.
“Alex knows so he can stay,” he says. Max looks less than thrilled, “He’s a spy, like he’s not going to be just as helpful as the geek squad.”
Max looks at him and Alex wonders if it’s normal to be just as taken aback by having his hand held as it is to be in a staring contest with an alien. Two aliens.
“There’s a healer in Texas who might be like us,” Max says.
Make that three.
#michael guerin#alex manes#malex#malex fic#roswell new mexico#roswell nm fanfic#malex fanfic#prompts#michael x alex
156 notes
·
View notes
Text
My job is super-easy? Okay. YOU do it.
This is pretty long. Smartass TL;DR at the bottom.
I was telling a Buddy about this sub, and he related this story, I tell it to you with his permission.
Buddy is a very charismatic guy, great friend, and probably a great co-worker. He’s the type of guy that everyone is fond of. Easygoing, and seems to have a knack for personal relationships. Always remembers birthdays, if he hears that a band you like is coming to town he’ll text you the news, that sort of guy.
Buddy works for a company that services industrial machinery. It was a small operation, there was Buddy, GoodBoss, Owner, The Kid in the warehouse, a couple of Technicians, and some Office Ladies who handled administration. Buddy was the pivot man in the operation, he was the point of contact for the Technicians and had great relationships with the Clients and the Vendors who supplied the parts. He knew his job inside out, and everyone likes dealing with him. He gets things done.
Now the way this place worked was that the Technicians would send in their reports for the day after 4:00pm. Buddy would look them over, looking for “Rockets”, these were high-priority jobs that needed to be done ASAP, as opposed to routine maintenance issues. He would then email The Kid a list of parts to be picked. Buddy worked 9am to 5:30pm, and was on-call for emergencies. If a “rocket” came in after-hours, Buddy would email The Kid to add it to the morning order.
The Kid arrived for work at 7:00am, and would pick parts orders for the technicians. These would be picked up by a local courier at 9:00am, and taken to a depot. There were 2 major industrial areas in town, and the “depot” wasn’t more than a large mailbox in a post office in each area. The technicians could avoid city traffic by going directly to the depots, which were very close to the clients. The couriers would get these boxes to the depots about 9:30. Buddy would schedule a call for the technicians, and when they finished the first call, they would head around the corner to the depot to pick up their parts.
Things ran smoothly for years, and then GoodBoss decided he wanted to move on. He was grooming Buddy for the move up, and Buddy learned most of the managerial duties GoodBoss covered, in addition to his own duties, things like QuickBooks and scheduling, etc.
GoodBoss leaves, and Buddy takes over these responsibilities, again things run smoothly.
Until Owner tells Buddy that he’s getting a new supervisor. BadBoss. This guy came from a Sales background, had no experience in operations, and was basically there to help Owner bid on big jobs, but his title was Operations Director, and he was Buddy’s new boss.
Buddy was angry that he had been denied the chance to move up, which in a small operation, doesn’t happen often. Add to that the fact that BadBoss was a jerk, but not a dumb jerk, and quickly figured out that Buddy was a threat. And so the lines were drawn. BadBoss had it in for Buddy, and Buddy wasn’t taking any of his shit.
One day BadBoss comes in about 8:45 and sees Buddy shooting the shit in the coffee room with one of the Office Ladies, and lays into him. “Why aren’t you at your desk? I don’t pay you to stand around talking. Get to work.”
Buddy starts to protest that he’s actually at the office 15 minutes before his shift, but BadBoss cuts him off, “I don’t listen to bullshit excuses. I want you at your desk at 8am sharp, and I want you to send me an email every morning to prove it. Now get going.”
Buddy sends him an email, BCC to Owner, asking BadBoss to confirm that he wants Buddy working 8-4:30. There was also a previous email saying “no overtime”. BadBoss sends a tersely worded confirmation.
Now Buddy comes in just before 8am, sends an email right at 8, confirming he’s on duty, and BCC to Owner. But here’s the problem.
The Technicians send their reports in after 4pm. Buddy lets it be known on the down-low that closer to 4:30, the better. So the parts requests come in at 4:25, and Buddy leaves at 4:30. He doesn’t get a chance to review them until 8 the next morning. He sends the order pick to The Kid, who doesn’t have enough time to assemble the order before the courier comes at 9am.
So what used to be next-day service ends up taking an extra day. If a Technician requests a part on his Monday report, he gets it Wednesday, not Tuesday, the way things worked before.
The customers start to revolt, loudly and energetically. These are industrial production machines, and when a “rocket” is delayed, it means a machine is down for an entire extra day. The customers are losing production and they are NOT happy.
Buddy gets called into a meeting on a Thursday with Owner and BadBoss demanding to know what the hell is happening. BadBoss is in full form, and says that Buddy’s job is super easy, and these delays are unacceptable.
Buddy explains exactly why the delays are occurring, it’s all because BadBoss changed his hours. Owner gives BadBoss the stink-eye after confirming that he ordered the schedule change.
“Okay, fine.” BadBoss concedes. “You go back to your old hours, starting Monday”
“I won’t be here Monday,” replies Buddy.
“What are you talking about?”
“I am on holiday for 2 weeks. Didn’t you check the vacation schedule?”
BadBoss goes red in the face. “I never approved any holiday request from you. You are NOT on holiday.”
“Yes, I am. The request was approved by GoodBoss before you were hired. Do you want to see the emails?”
“I don’t give a shit. Your holidays are cancelled.”
“Sorry, but my brother is getting married, and I am in the wedding party. I fly out to The Dominican on Saturday. I will be back in 2 weeks.”
“Who have you trained to take over your duties?” asks Owner.
“Well, back in the day GoodBoss would cover. I guess it’s up to BadBoss to cover while I am gone.”
BadBoss is stuck. He can’t very well claim that Buddy’s job is super easy, and then claim later in the same meeting that he can’t do it.
Oh, my Lord. What a shitshow.
The Technicians requested, say, a front sensor for a BoomStomper Model 31. BadBoss would ask them for a part number, and the Technician would reply, “I don’t know, Buddy knows all the part numbers.” Then he would go to The Kid, and say he needs to send a sensor to the Technician, and The Kid would point to the racks, where all the parts were labelled by part numbers. “I need a part number if you want to add it to an order”.
Buddy had an exhaustive Excel folder with all kinds of parts lists in it on his desktop. He also had a massive collection of manufacturers binders on shelves behind his desk. The Excel folder was already named something obscure, BadBoss couldn’t find it, so BadBoss was forced to look parts up in the binders. No CTRL-F in Excel to find a part number for BadBoss.
Buddy had bookmarks on his Chrome browser for manufacturer’s and vendor’s websites. He removed all the bookmarks so BadBoss, if he wanted in to log into any of these sites, had to create his own login. Buddy’s were on LastPass, but BadBoss didn’t have the LastPass password.
Buddy was also the adept with computers, so he had been given the access to the phone system portal. He set it up so that any calls to his desk phone or work cell would get “I am on vacation, in my absence, please contact BadBoss at Extension 123.” And then the call would forward to BadBoss’s desk phone, and if unanswered, to his work cell. After hours emergency calls went directly to BadBoss’s work cell, and if unanswered, to his HOME phone.
Buddy set up his Outlook with an autoreply that said to contact BadBoss, and copied Owner in.
Then Buddy shut off his work phone and took two weeks off.
BadBoss found out in a hurry that Buddy’s job wasn’t so super-easy after all. He was getting calls from irate clients, Technicians with the wrong parts, and calls in the evening that he had no way to handle. Remember that they repaired industrial machinery, and some facilities were 24-hours.
When Buddy got back BadBoss was waiting for him by the door and went ballistic. It was a screaming match that drew everyone, even Owner, who literally had to step between them.
Finally Buddy just screamed, “Fuck this shit. I can’t work with this guy.” He turned to Owner and said, “You saw how this place ran when I was doing HIS job, and now you see what it’s like when he’s doing mine. I am going back home, right now, before I do something I regret. So you have a choice to make.
“I’ll come in tomorrow and clean out my desk if this asshole hasn’t cleaned out his first.”
When he arrived on Tuesday, all the staff were grinning and BadBoss’s office was empty. Owner called him into his office and told him that BadBoss was gone and Buddy could get back to work.
“Nope,” said Buddy. “His office is empty, and I want it. I want his job, I want his pay, I want his perks. I have been here for years and you know what I can do. Put me in charge.”
And that’s how Buddy got his promotion. Since then the company has grown, and Buddy has grown right with it. There are now branches in 3 cities, a huge staff, and Buddy is in charge of it all.
And he still reminds me when my favorite band is coming to town.
TL;DR Grow an attention span.
(source) (story by PJMurphy)
#prorevenge#by PJMurphy#pro revenge#revenge stories#pro revenge stories#pro#revenge#revenge story#last10
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Forbidden II
Warnings: Cursing, Extremely misogynistic behavior
“Don’t beat yourself up over it, (Y/N).”
A week later, you found yourself at Spirit’s house, Mylene absent, because she was forced to babysit a younger cousin. That was always a downside of summer. School was out, but it was out for everyone, and somebody never wanted to watch their own badass kids.
“Yeah, you’re right. Anybody in my position would’ve been fooled. It’s not like these men walk around with a sign on their forehead that says they’re trash,” you agreed.
It had been one week since you had sex with Erik, in your best friend’s own house, no less. It had been mind-blowing, knocking whatever the hell that was with Antonio out of the water, but good dick didn’t cure heartbreak. You had really cared about your ex, and the reveal of his true colors really got to you.
“Besides, almost everybody’s first time is trash. Look at Mylene. Look at me,” Spirit said with a gesture to herself.
“Yeah, but y’all were kids. Mylene was 16 and you were 15. Antonio is 20 years old. That’s a grown ass man,” you complained.
“You know these boys don’t mature as fast. His driver’s license may say 20, but his heart and mind say 14,” she threw out, sitting in front of her mirror, now.
“I’m tired of that bullshit excuse. He and Erik are the same age!”
“What the fuck does Erik have to do with anything?” she asked, distracted as she applied some primer to her face.
You realized your slip up, smoothly covering it up.
“I’m just saying that we’ve all heard things about him. Either he really is that good, or all of these girls are lying…”
“True,” she agreed. “…but Erik is different. That whole crew is. I’ve heard things about your brother, too.”
“If you start talking about my brother’s sex life, imma throw this pillow at your big ass head,” you complained.
She laughed, digging in her makeup bag.
“You know how all the girls look at Hakeem. What you expect him to do? Say no?”
“Stop talking.”
“Alright,” she chuckled. “You’re coming with me, tonight, right? Mylene can’t come, and I’m not too familiar with that side of town nor those folks over there. They could be into some hardcore drugs and freaky shit, for all I know.”
You heaved a sigh, falling back onto her bed. You really didn’t want to go to, but you weren’t gonna leave Spirit at the hands of unfamiliar niggas in some part of town she didn’t know.
“Yeah,” you breathed.
“Find something to put on. Hopefully, you can get some dick, tonight.”
“Nah, I need a break from men,” you immediately threw out, making your way to her closet.
“Noo, what you need is a nigga who is gonna lay down the pipe like he should, and make you forget your bitch ass ex’s name.”
You had already gotten that out of your system, but you couldn’t tell her that, so you just kept your mouth shut. Part of you wanted to forget what happened, for the sake of your own ass and not angering your brother and best friend, but another part of you never wanted to forget it. You’d had a childhood crush on Erik when you were younger, when you and Mylene first met in middle school, but it was gone just as quick as it came. Erik was always a fuckin’ asshole, and nothing had really changed. Only now, he was an asshole who you had sex with.
After you showered and put on a new underwear set that Spirit had bought but never wore, you stood by her bed trying to decide between a short yellow romper, and a tight red dress. The romper was really flowy with sleeves that hung off the shoulder, but the red dress would definitely fit like a glove.
“We’re probably gonna be dancin’, and you know how you are,” Spirit said, looking over your shoulder.
You grabbed the romper without hesitation. She was right. You hated dancing but having to pull at whatever you were wearing every five minutes because it kept riding up. As you went to go step into the romper, Spirit let out a noise of appreciation.
“Um, I thought you said Antonio was trash?” Spirit demanded, pointing at the inside of your thigh.
You followed her line of sight, and cursed at the fading bruises on the inside of your thigh. You hadn’t even realized that Erik had been holding you that tight. You just wrote the soreness off to your inexperience.
Caught off guard, you weren’t sure what to say. After all, both she and Mylene knew the full details of what went down with Antonio, and she’d know that he didn’t do that. It didn’t take her long to catch on, letting out a tiny shriek before covering her mouth. She hit your arm with her other hand.
“Oh shit! You had sex with somebody else and didn’t tell us?” she paused, suspicion on her features. “Mylene doesn’t know, right?”
“No, she doesn’t know,” you sighed, pulling the yellow fabric up.
“Who? When?”
“It doesn’t matter, because I’m not tellin’ you,” you said, sitting down in front of her mirror.
“…and why not? Why would you hide this from us? It was good, right?” she questioned, following you.
You nodded, unable to even voice how good it was.
“So why don’t you wanna tell me about it?”
She was visibly confused by all of the secrecy.
“Just drop it, Spirit,” you begged.
“You’re actin’ real funny, right now. Why won’t you tell me?”
“Spirit-.”
“Was he ugly? Married?”
“No!”
“Then fess up, ho!”
“…because I don’t want you to have to keep anything from Mylene!”
That caught Spirit off guard, and she crossed her arms over her chest. You could see her frowning in the mirror, confusion clouding her face for a moment before shaking her head.
“Of course we’d tell Mylene. Why wouldn’t we-?”
She cut herself off, mouth falling open and eyes wide as she stared at you in the mirror. You avoided her gaze, digging in your own makeup bag as she put two and two together.
“Aw, hell no. Fuck no! (Y/N), are you serious, right now?”
“Spirit, please…”
“Erik? Erik?”
“Just drop it-.”
“Just drop it? You fucked your best friend’s brother, and you expect me to just drop it? You a triflin’ ass bitch.”
“Spirit,” you screamed, glaring at her over your shoulder.
“I love you, you know I do, but that’s some foul shit, and you know it,” she defended, hands up in the air.
“I know,” you sighed.
“You know how she gets about her brother. He got away with murder growing up, and she was barely allowed to leave the yard. That favoritism shit was heavy in that household, and any girl she brought around the house always got caught up with Erik,” Spirit started.
You looked down, already knowing all of this.
“She couldn’t bring one friend over, not one, without him coming around and ruinin’ shit. What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know,” you mumbled.
“Who even suggested this crap?”
You didn’t answer, and your silence was enough.
“Of course it was Erik’s ho ass,” she snorted. “When was this?”
“Last Saturday…”
“…Saturday? Damn, that wasn’t even a full 24 hours after Antonio. I’d be a little bit impressed if I wasn’t so annoyed with you, right now.”
“What am I gonna do? I can’t tell her, and what kind of friend would I be if I smiled in her face and pretended like this didn’t happen?”
“The same kind of friend who’d fuck your best friend’s brother.”
You glared at her in the mirror, but she wasn’t paying attention, suddenly jumping up.
“Oh shit!”
“…what?”
“Hakeem!”
You sighed, looking away and spraying some setting spray on your face.
“I forgot all about your brother…”
“I didn’t,” you grumbled.
“If he finds out, he’s gonna kill Erik, and not like figuratively, but like…’litcherally’.”
“I know.”
“Nah, I don’t think you do. Did you ever wonder why no niggas, and I mean none, approached you in high school?”
You paused, fully turning to face her, now with a frown on your face. You thought about what Erik had told you, but that was just for his friends, right?
“Yeah,” she confirmed your suspicions with a nod. “You were untouchable, because Hakeem and his entire posse were scaring dudes off left and right.”
Your mouth fell open in disbelief. It was something that had always bothered you despite the fact that you didn’t show it, but your two best friends having boys fawn over them while you sat there like a potato or something really got to you. You had never considered yourself ugly. You liked your skin, your hair texture, and your figure, but could never understand why guys just didn’t seem to like you.
“…what?” you whispered.
She nodded, loose curls bouncing on her shoulder.
“Yeah. You remember my friend, Isaiah, right?”
You nodded, a light skinned boy with a nice smile coming to mind.
“He wanted to ask you to prom junior year, but one of Hakeem’s friends found out about it, and told him. Hakeem scared the shit out of him, and he ended up asking that girl Dionne instead.”
You couldn’t even process what you were feeling, at the moment. Years of low self-esteem and insecurities was all because of your brother? What gave him the fucking right?
“When you say all of his friends…”
Spirit crossed her arms over her chest, bangles clanking together, with a sad smile on her face.
“Erik too.”
You released a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding, eyes burning.
Life was funny. Maybe if Hakeem and Erik and their entire bitch ass crew minded their business, maybe you wouldn’t have jumped into a relationship with the first guy to show you some attention. Maybe you wouldn’t have gotten your heart broken and slept with Erik. Maybe…
You shook your head, standing up as you swallowed down your anger.
“Let’s go to this fucking party.”
~
You’re tipsy. You were tipsy and a little angry, but that didn’t stop you from refilling your cup. The house party was in full swing by the time y’all arrived. Eyes were on you as soon as you walked in the door, Spirit’s gold dress almost matching her skin, and your yellow number contrasting nicely with your own. You walked in ready to drink, and ready to forget what Spirit had confessed to you.
The first hour or so was fun. You had been dancing with your best friend before some bold dudes approached the two of you, and y’all obliged. You were dancing, a smile on your face and a cup in your hand. You had been enjoying yourself, laughing and entertaining some little white boy who thought he was G-Eazy or something. He was a little handsy, but harmless. Everything was great…until it wasn’t.
A group of guys walked in, a very familiar group of guys. The smile had dropped from your face as soon as your eyes landed on your brother, his dark eyes roaming, already looking for his catch of the night, no doubt. The usual faces were with him, including the last person you wanted to see. Spirit sensed your change in attitude, and turned to follow your line of sight.
“Shit,” you heard her mumble. “(Y/N), just ignore them.”
You ignored her, pulling away from the guy behind you and walking towards the front of the house. She caught your arm, halting all movement, and you glared at her.
“(Y/N), leave it-.”
“No! Fuck him. Fuck all of them!”
You snatched your arm away, and she let you go, knowing how you could get. You stomped towards them, heels digging into feet, no doubt, but you didn’t care. Hakeem was a little surprised to see you there, it was obvious if his raised eyebrow was any indication. However, he seemed to be more surprised that you were acknowledging him.
In the past, when you both found yourselves at the same get-together, there was some unspoken agreement to just stay out of each other’s way. Only now, you knew that he never exactly held up to his end of the agreement. Fucking hypocrite, you thought. Before he could get a word out, your drink was in his face.
“Are you crazy?”
People around you backed up, some expressing outrage at getting wet too.
“Fuck you!”
You felt a hand on your arm, and you knew it was Spirit. Hakeem glared at you, looking at you like you’d lost your mind.
“I just bought this shirt, (Y/N)!”
“Do I look like I give a fuck? Fuck you and your wack ass shirt, Hakeem!”
You were drawing a bit of attention, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.
“Fuck you,” you repeated, throwing your cup at him.
You suddenly looked between his friends, all of whom were standing by, unsure of how to proceed. You pointed at all of them, Spirit pulling you back as you saved Erik for last. Your dark eyes met his, a sneer on your face as you looked him up and down.
“Fuck all of you.”
She dragged you away, stumbling a bit as she pulled you up the stairs. She deposited you in an empty bedroom, shutting the door behind her. You wiped your face, hearing her turn the water on in the bathroom. Your hands were trembling, so angry that you could hardly think straight. It wasn’t long before she was wiping your face with a rag. You didn’t even notice that you were crying.
“High school sucked for me, Spirit. You know that,” you mumbled.
“I know.”
“I didn’t go to prom. I never had a boyfriend. I never even had a guy ask me out to the mall or sum’ shit,” you complained, the tears coming down harder, now.
“I used to think you knew what was up. Or…at the least had some idea as to why guys all but ignored you. It wasn’t until after we graduated that I realized you had no idea. How would I even go about telling you something like that?”
You blew your nose, realizing that you may have been tipsier than you originally thought.
“I thought there was something wrong with me!”
“There’s nothing wrong with you. I thought about mentioning it, but then Antonio happened, and I just figured that there was no need. You were happy…”
“I was happy, because he was the first guy to show me some attention…because he wasn’t being scared off,” you snapped, standing up.
You walked into the bathroom, Spirit right behind you.
“I’ll be down in a little bit…”
“…are you sure?”
“Yeah,” you said, rinsing the rag out. “I just need a minute.”
She hesitantly nodded.
“Alright. I’ll be downstairs. If you’re not down in thirty minutes, I’m comin’ back up here.”
You sighed as she left the room, wiping your face. You didn’t know what kind of primer and setting spray Spirit had, but you were thankful that your makeup was still intact. You contemplated the point of even re-joining the party. Hakeem was irritated with you, no doubt, but it wasn’t like you cared. He could die mad about it.
Erik was down there, though, and you weren’t even sure you could be in the same room with him. You’d only seen him in passing over the past week as you were in and out of his house with Mylene and Spirit. You sure as hell hadn’t been alone with him since that night, and now knowing what you know, you didn’t think you wanted to be. Of course, life was funny that way.
You heard the bedroom door open and close, the noise of the party briefly reaching your ears. You stepped out of the bathroom, and shouldn’t have been surprised to see Erik there, a stupid look on his face. You rolled your eyes, tossing the rag into the sink before moving to walk past him.
“What was all of that about, (Y/N)?” he demanded, blocking your path.
“Move.”
“Nah, I’m not going nowhere until you start talkin’…”
You frowned at him, taking a step forward.
“I didn’t go to prom…,” you started.
He frowned, a confused look on his face as he ran his eyes over you.
“I didn’t go to prom, because any guy who probably thought about asking me was too scared to…,” you said, tapping his chest with a humorless smile. “…but you already knew that.”
Erik looked away, rolling his neck as he cursed.
“Yeah, ‘shit’ is right. All of y’all ain’t shit. Now move.”
“(Y/N),” he said, grabbing your arm.
“Don’t touch me,” you snapped, jerking away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
“Listen-.”
“Listen to what? What is there to listen to? The misogynistic hypocrisy that you’re about to lay down? Y’all can go around doing whatever and whoever the fuck you want, but I couldn’t even get one stupid date?”
Erik didn’t say anything, and you continued.
“I couldn’t even get one boy to tell me I was pretty? Ask for my number? I felt like I was invisible!”
“Hakeem just-.”
“Fuck Hakeem! Don’t talk to me about him. Are you some little bitch who does everything he says?”
That got under his skin, and you could almost see him bristle. He took a step forward, but you stood your ground.
“Obviously not,” he said with a pointed look at you.
“Is that what that whole thing was about last week? You’re givin’ me some bullshit about the thought of my first time being trash really bothering you, but… That wasn’t it, was it? The thought of my first time being with someone other than you was the root of the problem, wasn’t it?”
“It wasn’t even like that-.”
“Was that you trying to stake some sort of claim?”
“I told you that I had been feelin’ you for a minute.”
“Let me guess, since high school? When Hakeem roped you into his little thing or whatever, you had no problem agreeing to it…for selfish reasons…”
He didn’t reply, and you knew then that that was the truth.
“Saving me for yourself-?”
“Fuck, no, it wasn’t like that-.”
“You were better than Antonio, I’ll give you props for that, but as much as you wish you were, you will never be my first.”
He started towards you, and you stumbled back. The corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk, and you finally took in his all black attire, locs braided back out of his face.
“…but I was the first to make you come. Twice if I remember correctly. You’ll never forget that.”
“You’re right. I won’t forget that, and when Hakeem asks me what I’ve been up to since the semester ended, I definitely won’t forget it.”
Erik laughed, the gold in his mouth winking at you as he brought his hand up to play with your gold hoops.
“Nah, you ain’t gone say shit,” he said, continuing before you could get a word in. “You care about my sister too much for that. Unless…you wanna risk her hatin’ your ass?”
You glared at him, knowing it was true.
“Fuck you, Erik.”
He tilted his head to the side, arms folded over his chest.
“You already did. I’m down for another round, though, if that’s what you-.”
“If you think I’m gonna even think about touching you again-?”
“You will.”
You barked a laugh, a ‘bitch please’ on the tip of your tongue when he approached you, thumb coming up to brush against your bottom lip. You froze, heart skipping a beat as his other hand came up to dance along your waist.
“Like I said… I made you come twice, and you won’t forget that.”
You looked away, unable to hold his gaze, feeling a familiar heat settle in your stomach. He brushed his lips against the corner of your mouth, barely enough to be called a kiss. You held your breath as he pulled away, the noise of the party reaching your ears as he opened the door.
“I’ll be waitin’.”
And then he was gone.
#Erik killmonger x Reader#erik killmonger fanfic#Erik Killmonger#michael b jordan#black panther#black panther fanfiction#melanin#dark skin#erik stevens#n'jadaka
234 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dark Side: Part 2
Master: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin
Pairing: Steve X Reader
Summary: You expected Captain America to be a lot of things… You didn’t expect him to be anything like you. As it turns out, America’s Golden Boy may be more than a little tarnished.
Warnings: Violence, blood, some feels
A/N: This bad boy is for @littledarlinhavefaithinme ‘s Marvelous Writing Challenge!
Lol, two parts. Who the fuck do I think I am? In all fairness, I feel like @littledarlinhavefaithinme knows my work well enough to know that I’m a wordy bitch.
Hope y’all enjoy!
Tags are open!
You give yourself one more look in the mirror. The black strappy Dior high-low dress is just the right balance of sexy and classy. The gold Louboutins bring the perfect level of sparkle. And your red lips pick up the sole of the heels creating a flawless balance.
It’s not vanity that says you look like a knockout. It’s an indisputable fact. You just wish you were in a state of mind to appreciate it.
Your phone dings alerting you that your driver is waiting. Sighing you plaster your signature carefree smirk on your lips, grab your coat, clutch, and steel your nerves.
As the car pulls up he’s already at the corner waiting. You’re not the least bit surprised that he showed or that he’s early. Captain America didn’t seem the fashionably late type.
Before getting out you eye him through the tinted window of the Town Car. Despite the late autumn chill in the air, he’s not wearing a coat. Those cool blue eyes scan the area taking in everything. He has his hands shoved in his pockets and… he actually seems like he may be just a smidge nervous. That brings a real smile to your face. How endearing.
Knowing it won’t take him long to spot you, you thank your driver and step out. Immediately he locks on to you. Before meeting him it had been a long time since someone had genuinely managed to surprise you. Once again Steve Rogers does so when a breathtaking smile fills his face upon seeing you.
“What do ya know,” you quip as you strut up to him, your heels making you just about eye level, “the man does own a suit, tie and all.” Playfully you tug on the dark navy fabric.
Steve scoffs, “You said suit so I assumed the whole ensemble would be expected.”
“Is this Prada?” You eye the perfectly cut lines, mouth watering just a touch. He was a damn fine specimen. “Impressive.”
“Being friends with a Stark does have its benefits.”
“Of that, I have no doubt.” You hold your arm out to him, “Shall we?”
With a crooked smile on his face, he hooks his arm with yours, “Lead the way.”
The restaurant, one of DC’s hottest tickets at the moment, was only about half a block away. As the two of you make your way there heads turn. It’s not just because Captain America is out on a Saturday night either, together you cut an incredible image. Though keeping yourself hidden is usually a part of your M.O. you can’t help but feel a little pride.
There’s no sign above the place, either you knew it was here or you didn’t. As you walk up the door swings open revealing an open, modern, elegant setting.
Steve whispers into your ear, “This is one of those places where you leave hungry at the end isn’t it?”
“I’m almost offended.” One of the hosts takes your coat revealing the thin straps of your dress, your exposed chest, cleavage. Honestly, the thing was almost as criminal as you were.
“Careful there Steven, that’s a great way to catch a fly.” His slightly slack jaw snaps shut, blue eyes narrowing. You wink before turning to follow the hostess leading you to your table.
“It’s Steve,” he grumbles a bit, sounding like an angry boy and not a grown man in a five thousand dollar suit.
A genuine laugh tumbles from your crimson lips as you lazily sit in the proffered chair, legs crossing, the high front of the hem falling just between your thigh highs and holster. His Adam’s apple bobs hard in his throat as he takes his place across from you.
“What can I get you both to drink this evening?” The waiter asks, trying not to gawk, not that you could blame him, you’re sure it’s not every day he has Captain America at his table.
You respond before Steve can even look a the menu, “We’ll take a bottle of Merlot, pick whatever puts the most money in your pocket and,” you pluck a $100 from your clutch, “for your discretion.” He takes it and stares at you for a second. You give him a small wink too, “Thank you.”
“Thank YOU.” With that, he scurries off for the wine.
“Always so generous?” Steve takes a sip of water eyeing you.
“With service employees? Yes.” He raises his brows. “What? Can’t I be a benevolent criminal?”
“Is there such a thing?”
You shrug, “In my experience there is. Some of the most generous people I know make their money in nefarious ways.”
The waiter arrives with your wine. “Thanks,” Steve gives him a smile. As he does a server walks past with a skewer laden with red meat. “What kind of restaurant is this exactly?”
“It’s Brazilian steakhouse inspired.” Those words clearly meant nothing to him. “Basically they walk around and serve you meat until you beg them to stop.”
“Alright,” he nods, “I can get behind that.”
“Figured.” You sip the wine, its excellent. “I may have expensive taste but I grew up far too poor to blow money on four bites of food no matter how delicious.”
He laughs, “Tony took me someplace in New York… Everything was ‘deconstructed,’” he air quotes the word. “I honestly thought it was a joke. I had to stop for a slice after.”
“Yeah. Sounds like some rich kid shit.”
Taking a drink he nods in agreement. “So… not a rich kid.”
“Nope. Purebred third generation trailer trash.”
“From where?” You raise a brow over your glass. “Oh come on. You can read all about me online. I don’t even know your real name. Throw me a bone.”
“Fair.” You sigh, “Oklahoma.”
“Really?!”
“Yup. The land of corn, tornadoes, and disappointment.”
“That bad?”
“Worse,” you grimace and he laughs. “How’s life in DC?”
“Fine, I guess… You’ve probably seen more of it than I have.”
“It’s sad that I think you’re right.” He shrugs. “You could see it ya know?”
“You sound like Romanoff.”
“She sounds like good people.”
“You would probably think that. You’re likely cut from the same cloth.”
The servers come by and you both load up on incredible grilled meat and vegetables. He looks more than a little pleased. Your small talk continues on. It is actually pleasant and you just can’t bring yourself to drop your bomb just yet. Instead, you push it to the back of your mind.
After a bit, you decide to ask, “Any other prying questions for me?”
He looks shocked, “Plenty. But will you answer them?”
“Ask and find out,” your lips curl mischievously.
He slowly chews, a pensive expression on his face. “Alright…” Those blue eyes pierce you as he sips his wine. You feel… seen. It’s not uncomfortable but certainly not something you’re used to. “How do you go from, as you said, trailer trash, to this?” He gestures to you.
You think for a minute. “Determination.”
“That all I get?”
Maybe it’s his melancholy. Maybe is the way he looks in that suit. Regardless of the reason you decide... Fuck it.
“Well… I come from a place where you either get pregnant, get a scholarship, or get dog tags.” You take a sip of wine. “Never been very maternal, wasn’t good enough at anything for a scholarship, so I took door number three. One thing led to another and here we are.”
“YOU were a soldier?!”
“You do know the road from soldier to soldier of fortune is pretty short right?”
“I just… wouldn’t have guessed.”
An almost sad smile flickers across your face before you school your expression. “I will have you know I was a damn good soldier. One of the few women in combat infantry. Would have been special forces if the sexist fucks let me in.”
Steve nods in approval. “What rank?”
“Sargeant.”
Something flashes across his face at that but he says nothing. “How many tours?”
“Three.” His brows rise at this. “What? Said I was good at what I did. Thought that was going to be it for me.”
“What happened?”
You flag the waiter for another bottle of wine before answering. “They said don’t ask don’t tell.” You take a big gulp of wine, “Someone asked. I told.”
He takes a minute to sort that out before he realizes what you’re referring to. It’s just long enough for you to remember that old bitter feeling. “So you’re…”
“I’m all sorts of things, Cap.” You offer him a halfhearted grin. “At the time I happened to be with a woman. Thought she was gonna be it too. Turned out she was in it for the financial stability and good pussy-” he chokes a bit on his wine at that and you burst out laughing. “Anyway, when one of the two was gone so was she.”
“I’m sorry,” he lays his hand between you both.
Playfully you push it off the edge of the table, “Ancient history. Nothing to get mopey over.”
“Yeah. Well, good soldiers shouldn’t be treated as disposable.” Or good pussy, you almost fire back but you think you’ve shocked the old man enough.
“We were disposable.” He looks away from you at that. “Get rid of me there’s more desperate kids signing up every day.”
“Well… I guess that’s true. I was one of those desperate kids at one point too…”
“What were you desperate to get out of?”
He stares off into the distance for a long moment. “I was desperate to get in actually. It… seemed like the right thing to do… Whole world at war and whatnot. But… it was a different time.” Your eyes narrow as he shoves food in his mouth to avoid talking. After a bit he breaks, “What?”
“You’re right, I read all about you online. I’ve seen the before shots, read your biographies… Half of it, most of that golden boy rhetoric, is crap I have no doubt. Now you’re trying to tell me you only wanted to join the army just because it was the right thing… I call bullshit.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” You take a bite studying him. “You’re a fighter. You like the fight. I bet you always have, even when you were getting your ass kicked.”
“How would you know?”
You hold his gaze, “Because I’m the same.” Sighing you take a long drink. “All that wartime machismo and patriotism… you wanted to measure up. Maybe there was a righteous element to it but… yeah, I don’t buy that pure American hero serving his country shit.”
He looks like you slapped him before a smile spreads across his face, it’s a little sad but genuine. “Are your grandparents from Brooklyn by chance?”
You laugh, “Not that I’m aware of. Why?”
“Nothing,” he shakes his head. “You’re not wrong. I, uh… I did have something to prove.”
“Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Prove it?” So many emotions flicker across his face, you almost feel bad for asking.
“I don’t know honestly. All the people who could answer that are dead…” It takes him a moment to continue, “But… Hydra fell… we won… so I guess there’s that.”
Your stomach tightens and you set your fork down. “Well, this has turned distinctly depressing.” You wave down your waiter, “You still hungry?”
Steve shakes his head. “I’m stuffed. It was delicious.”
“Good.” You fish some money from your bag and put it in the dazed waiter’s hand. It was unquestionably more than your tab. He looks like he’s going to protest but you shut him up with a look. In your line of work you never knew if you’d see the next day and you couldn’t take it with you so why not give it away.
You stand, “Come on.”
At the door they go to fetch your coat, “Actually,” you pause them, “could I pick that up tomorrow?”
“Of course!”
“Thanks.” The air outside is brisk but it’s kind of refreshing.
“Where exactly are we going?” Steve asks as he falls in line behind you. “Do you want my jacket?”
How cute, you smile at him, “I’m good. And we are going to have some fun.”
“Were we not before?” His grin is mischievous.
“Look I know you have a low bar for entertainment. Dinner is nice but it’s not fun.”
After a few blocks, you turn to him, “Do you like dancing?”
“Uh…” Suddenly he looks incredibly uncomfortable. “Not… really…”
“Too bad.” You tug him down an alley, the base notes already hitting your ears.
Just outside the club, he stops, “I really don’t think this is my kind of fun.” Lights flash into the dark alley lighting up the line of people waiting to get in.
“Have you ever been to a club?” You stand your ground, keeping him in place.
“Well… no…”
You lay a hand on his… incredibly solid chest, “Have I led you astray in your assimilation so far?” He rolls his eyes. “No, I haven’t. Trust me.”
“Fine. But I’m not dancing.”
“Sure,” you quip over your shoulder as you pull him to the door.
“Isn’t there a line?” He says in your ear.
“I have the universal VIP pass,” pulling a couple bills from your clutch and passing them to the bouncer who happily lets you in.
The music is so loud vibrating through your whole body. When you glance at Steve the grimace on his face makes a laugh soundlessly burst from you. He glances down and shakes his head, not understanding how this is fun. You pull him toward the dancefloor but he refuses, heading against the wall on the edge of the sea of bodies.
Conceding you hold your hands up and begin moving with the music, hips swaying, arms lifting. It takes moments before someone joins you, his hands sliding over your sides moving just barely. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t him you were interested in.
Steve watches you, occasionally looking at other dancers, the very image of out of place in his suit, arms crossed back leaned against the wall. Maybe this really wasn’t for him… He wasn’t insisting to leave though so you let yourself just feel the music.
After a few songs a woman on one of the raised platforms gets your attention, insisting you come up. It’s not far from Steve’s parking spot so you go with it. The bass starts hard and your bodies press close. You spin her in your arms, her head falls back onto your shoulder as she grinds against you in time with the music. Two men watch close to the platform and she beckons them up.
As you move with one of the men you notice Steve’s stepped away from the wall just a bit, his eyes on you. You hold his gaze. Slowly he makes his way toward your perch. You drop low, ignoring the whoop from your near forgotten dance partner at the move, his hands greedily grasping for you as you raise up. But Steve is at the edge of the platform.
His head is about at your pelvis as you stand before him, body still reacting to the music. You rest your hand on his head, fingers gripping his hair, gently tilting his head back as you swing your hips wide holding onto those blue eyes, flashing with the colors of the lights. His tongue flits out for just a second, moistening his pink lips. Once more you drop with the beat. Your free hand catches his tie as you rise.
Steve’s hands reach up, grabbing you just below your hip bones. As if you weigh nothing he lifts you off the platform setting you in front of him. There’s a self-satisfied look on his face, no doubt over your surprised expression that quickly morphs into a greedy grin.
You run your hands up his torso and over his chest. Slipping a finger under the knot of his tie you tug it lose until it hangs undone. Swaying to the music you undo a few of the buttons on his crisp white shirt, barely grazing the golden chest hair that peeks out. He slides the suit jacket off, tossing it over the crowd, obviously not caring that it’s easily worth two grand. You’d buy him another.
Resting your hands on his hips you coax him to move with the music. Again, he’s full of surprises, getting the hang of it quickly. You turn and press close to him, his hands gliding over you before holding at your swaying hips. Reaching back you hook a hand around his neck, head falling onto his shoulder. There’s nothing but the two of you and the music despite the press of the people around you. His breath on your neck making your heart stutter in your chest.
After two songs you’re about ready to have him right in the middle of this crowded dance floor if he’d let you. As much as you wish that could be the case you know better… you need to get yourself together.
Turning to face him you press your lips close to his ear. His hands run down your back, pulling you tight against him. It takes everything in you to say, “I’m going to the restroom. Be back,” rather than asking if he’d like to fuck you in the restroom. He nods and releases you. Unsurprisingly, he follows, leaning against the wall next to the narrow hall leading to the bathrooms.
You wet a paper towel with cold water, pressing it to your flushing chest and racing pulse. Staring at yourself in the mirror you silently coach yourself to get your head out of your ass. The two of you need to go someplace so you can tell him-
You’re so distracted you don’t notice the person behind you. Until your face slams into your reflection. The assailant lands a blow to the middle of your spine. You cry out, pain blossoming. Whirling you grab their wrist before the knife can plunge into you.
“Bitch you ruin this dress I’ll gut you.” The knife clatters to the floor, your hand twisting the wrist back with a jerk. They swing, fist meeting your jaw. Stumbling they throw you through the swinging door back first. The wall catches you. Reaching under your skirt you pull one of your pistols free and let loose a shot. It misses, barely, despite you hardly aiming. The shock has its desired effect and they’re distracted.
Screams react to the sound of the shot and you bolt for the exit at the end of the hall. You sprint into the alley for an instant before something sharp and burning buries itself in your upper thigh causing you to drop to your knees. In an instant they’re on you, arm choking you. Without luck, you try to fling them off but they’ve got weight on you and you can’t get purchase.
Your head is beginning to float from lack of oxygen when they’re pulled off you. Falling onto your hands you gasp for air, coughing. Before you can turn they’re thrown down the alley, slamming hard into the dumpster. Seemingly unconscious they slump to the ground.
“Zelda!” Steve kneels before you gripping your shoulders. “Are you ok?!”
You cock an eyebrow, about to make a snarky comment when you see the guy rise to his feet, gun drawn, aimed at Steve. Reflexively you grab the pistol on your other thigh and shoot, aim perfect, the bullet nestled between the man’s brows.
Steve jerks up and stares, noticing the gun as it falls from the man’s grip. His eyes turn back to you, filled with questions. “Better now.” You offer a crooked smile and rise to your feet groaning.
He steadies you as you reach to your leg and pull out the blade. “Fuck,” you hiss between your teeth tossing it to the side. A few civilians are at the mouth of the alley, gawking at the scene. Great.
“I’ve gotta call this in,” he reaches for his phone.
“Of course you do,” you grumble, slipping out of your heels before the right one fills with blood.
-
As you support yourself against the wall, taking the weight off your injured leg, Steve dials Romanoff. He lays out the situation, she assures him it can be dealt with.
“Not the first time an agent’s had a bar fight go bad, Rogers,” she laughs.
“That’s not the situation. We also need a medic, someone has-” he turns to look at you and… of fucking course you’re gone. “Never mind. They’re fine.”
@mywinterwolf @disagreetoagree @breezy1415 @peachthatdrinkslemonade @wonderlandmind4@piensa-bonito @buckysstar @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @siriuslycloudy2
#steve rogers x reader#captain america x reader#steve rogers#captain america#steve rogers angst#LDMWC
84 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey!! I've officially joined the Triple frontier bandwagon because I mean its eye candy to say the least! Always been a Garrett and Charlie fan too, and watching the fight in the movie was a treat for all. Was wondering if you could write an imagine about them fighting over (the reader) Nothing better than two beautiful men fighting for your affection! Thank you!! xxxxx
I swear I didn’t forget you!! This one just took me surprisingly long and i just kept editing and rewriting. Thank you so much for your message! idk what happened in the middle but it kinda took a turn and I hope this is at least close to what you wanted (if not i’m really really sorry). Hope you enjoy!!
Ben and William Miller both having feelings for you
It all really kicks into gear when you start looking for a new flatmate and rant about it to Santiago on the phone one day, complaining about the applicants either being downright messy or just creepy in general. You’ve managed your money until now but the next rent is coming up and you start to get desperate so Santiago offers to stay at your place for the next two months, he’s looking for a condo anyway while he’s in town and you two have lived together before.
You say no at first, you being grown up now and feeling like you asked him yourself by complaining about it, you don’t want to burden him with your problems but he ends up showing up on your doorstep, bags behind him and a truck in the driveway. You’re a little bit annoyed at him at first but he grins and spreads his arms so you lunge yourself into them and can’t help but laugh yourself.
Will and Benny come by that evening, offering to help unpack and get settled. Between getting boxes from the car and trying to figure out where what goes you begin to talk. It’s a lot of bantering with Benny, sending winks your way and not letting an opportunity slide to compliment you.
It’s a nice afternoon, filled with laughs and stories, Benny being more talkative, his brother a bit more quiet but still smiling nonetheless. He’s attentive though, watching you with kind eyes and a warm smile.
The lot of you ending up having dinner together, as one does when moving, though Benny had to leave for work. Without his brother present he gets the chance to really get to know you and he doesn’t want to let that opportunity go to waste. Over a plate of food you keep enjoying Will’s company more and more, the way he picks up on the little details of the stories you’re telling and asking follow up questions when you talk. Pope excuses himself after a couple of hours, being exhausted of the drive and going to bed, leaving you and Will alone at the table.
Will radiates warmth and just a feeling of calmness and comfort for you that night that you haven’t felt in a long time. Since it’s just you and Will you end up doing the dishes (he offered) and you wonder who raised those boys who seem to be kind and goodhearted and thoughtful, so you ask, feeling like you can ask him anything.
He tells you about his mother then, all sunshine and warmth and baked goods and just pure at heart, and his father, tough love but love nonetheless, cigarettes, plaid, a joke on his lip and and a belly full of laughter. It warms your heart to hear him talk about his parents this kindly, seeing the love in his eyes.
“They sound like wonderful people. Hope I get to meet them one day.” - “Yeah, I hope so too.”
They come by almost every week after that, sometimes together, sometimes just one at a time but always with Pope as an excuse. Benny’s the first one to ask you to casually hang out. It’s than that his brother snaps out of the passive state he was in before. He’s coming back from the driveway then, Benny and you being in the kitchen, sorting groceries. Will catches the last phrase about your weekend plans before you go to lock the car and get your jacket, leaving Ben and Will alone in the kitchen.
There’s tension seeping out of them now, both highly aware of the other one and they avoid looking at each other for a moment until Will speaks up, „She’s a nice girl.“ „She sure is,“ Ben agrees, storing away more groceries. Will leans against the counter, crossing his arms and watching the younger brother now. „Yeah I noticed that,“ he shifts a bit and Benny stops, looking up, „What that’s supposed to mean?“ „Nothing,“ Will pauses. „Just saying.“ „If you got something to say, say it.“ „Got nothing to say.“ Will’s defensive now, while Benny starts to get riled up, the grocery storing picking up pace now. „I know when you got nothing to say. If you got a problem just fucking say so.“ „I ain’t got a problem.“ Will shrugs but his shoulders seem broader suddenly and his posture had gone from relaxed to alert. „Just think that you’re gonna fuck up sooner or later.“Benny sets down the bread, hard. They are looking at each other directly, eyes clear and kitchen becoming dangerously quiet for a brief moment. „What the fuck are you talking about?“ Benny snarls slowly, almost calmly.„C’mon Ben, I know it, you know it, every-fucking-body knows it. You can never stay with a girl for long and you never will. Fine if you wanna do it to the girls at the show but she’s with Pope. What you think he’ll say about you screwing around with her?“ They’re sharp words, aimed to hurt his brother and a bit harder than he intended to. He’s the calmer one of the two brothers, he learned to deal with his emotions. He should be better than this, he thinks to himself. It’s usually Benny who’s lashing out and teasing him, throwing remarks his way and having a go at the older Miller brother. Benny’s a natural charmer, never shy, always open about his intentions and feelings so he’s boiling with rage at what Will is throwing his way. He’s about to say something but you’re walking through the door and he doesn’t want to do this in front of you. „Found another bag.“ you say, throwing the jacket over a chair and setting the bag on the counter. „You guys alright?“
The tension still lays between the brothers when Will gives Benny a ride back to his place. It’s quiet between the two Miller boys, both of them still tense from their conversation before. Will is looking at the road ahead, maybe gripping the steering wheel a bit to tight and Benny doesn’t even bother looking his way, looking off into the night. As they are coming to a stop he speaks up though. „It’s none of your business what and who I’m doing it with.“ he cocks his head to his brother, eyes fixed on him. „And don’t start with your bullshit now about being true and honest to oneself. Fuck, you come at me and talk about her and Pope and shit, for what?“ he gets out of the car now, not really expecting an answer from his brother, not even really wanting one if he’s being honest. „Especially Pope! You’re always preaching about being real and in touch with your inner self or fucking whatever and now you come to tell me that you’re worried ‘cause of fucking Pope?” He’s leaning against the car, one arm resting at the top of the car, glaring at his brother through the open door. It’s tight jars now, teeth clenching, fists balled. William’s knuckles on the wheel turn white. There is nothing left to say, both brothers not wanting to drag out this conversation, William focused on not letting his brother provoke him. “Goodnight, Benny.”It’s Benny who has the last word this night though, voice dangerously low.“Thanks for the ride, brother.”
Both try to spend time with you afterwards, preferably alone. It’s less about sabotaging the other and more about showing you their good sides. They don’t bare their teeth in front of you, only hard stares following the other when they interact with you. They’re more rough when you’re not there though, shoving and pushing against each other, a passive aggressive behavior more prominent and often silence hanging like a heavy curtain between the two of them.
It’s more than a normal rivalry between them, being brothers their used to compete with each other since the day they’re born but now it’s not about who can run faster or who has a better aim, it’s about you. Both of them are entirely sure that they are what’s best for you and the other being less, flawed even, to be a suitable partner for you. Not that they can decide that for you but their opinions are prominent on their face when both are in the room, feeding into the jealousy.
Being with Benny is easy from the start. He’s all laughter and sunshine, warm days and belly aches from joking around. The energy is buzzing off of him and you can’t help but feel energized as well. He likes to see you smile and laugh at his jokes and you’re thankful for him to distract you from your day to day worries. You feel lighter when you’re with him and he eases your tensions effortlessly.
You two go up to the beach a lot, either walking along the sand, sometimes stripping down to take a dip or just sitting in the parked car, eating fries and talking.
It’s exciting with him and new and he makes your stomach turn in a a beautiful way whenever he sends you a wink or a smile. He likes to go out with you when he has time, taking the time actually to see you between work and training and work again.
His brother’s words still ring in his head and he really wants to show you that he doesn’t see you as a fling or just a potential hookup but that he actually wants to get to know you and show you that he does in fact, and it is surprising him as well, care about you.
Sometimes you end up meeting him at the gym, at first a bit intimidated by all the buff and tough guys around, sweating and being concentrated on their workout. You see Benny then, equally focused and you let your eyes wander over his sweaty body, shirt clinging to his torso, his hair kept out of his face by an old snapback. He’s standing in the boxing ring, talking to his trainer, face breaking into a grin and he ducks under the strings to jump down and jog over to you.You take a few slow steps yourself and meet him halfway. „Hey tough guy.“„Hey gorgeous.“ he likes the way you watch him, your eyes lingering for a while and he’s more than happy then to get rid of the shirt as he’s leaving for the changing room, leaving you with an excellent view of his back, the roll on his shoulders maybe a little too intentional so he looks over his shoulder to send you a wink afterwards to top it of, making you laugh.
William touches you in a different kind of way. You feel at home with him, he’s easing something inside of you and whatever mood you’re in it always goes away the second you two lock eyes. It’s like you’ve known him for years even though it is only a couple of weeks and you can’t help but look forward to the next time seeing him whenever he’s out the door.
When it’s just you two it’s a deeply intimate connection you share, lots of talks with steaming cups of coffee between you, lazy afternoons spend curled up on the couch together, reading or sharing your views about the universe.
He wants to be a friend for you first, to be happy, to be content and if he can actively do something for you to feel that than he’s more than happy to do so. It is important to him that he’s the first you come to when you’re feeling low, that there is not an uncomfortable inch between the two of you.
It’s a bit more physical affectionate too, Will actually seeking intimacy and liking to touch your shoulder or having you lean on him. You feel safe when you’re with him, physically and emotionally, you like to have him around.
One day he comes home with Pope and you’re lazing on the couch, exhausted from work and your daily grind so you just merely wave your hand as you hear them come in and give a quick shout to announce your presence in the living room. Pope shouts back and immediately retreats to the kitchen, getting himself and Will something to drink and Will pops in to say hello. He doesn’t really think about it as he walks over to the couch and bends over to press a kiss to your forehead. It’s all instinctive but he freezes up a split second afterwards, not sure if what he just did was maybe a bit too soon. Catching your eyes, both of you are a bit taken by surprise but your lips quickly turning into a grin. „Hi.“ and he, William “Ironhead” Miller, almost blushes but can’t help but smile as well, maybe a bit ashamed but happy nonetheless „Uh, hi.“
#Ben Miller#William Miller#Benny Miller#william ironhead miller#triple frontier#triple frontier headcanon#triple frontier imagine#benny miller imagine#william miller imagine#ben miller imagine#ben miller x reader#benny miller x reader#william miller x reader#benny miller x reader x william miller#requested#answered#i kinda left it there at the end because really#who can decide between those 2 beautiful men
104 notes
·
View notes
Text
DATE & TIME: December 20, afternoon
LOCATION: The Little Flower Shop
TAGGING: Noah Puckerman @thepuckrmn
NOTES: The boy needed a hug, okay?
Puck cursed softly to himself as he walked down the sidewalk. With everything that was going on, he completely forgot that Hanukkah was right around the corner. He usually bought Sarah a couple of things for the first night, and he knew she needed a distraction now more than ever. He spotted the flower shop up ahead and decided to duck in there to see if he could find her anything nice. Puck rolled his eyes at the stares he got from the people on the street. His unkept hair, dark circles under his eyes, scabbed up knuckles, and the fact that he probably still smelled like whiskey all pointed to the fact that he was in mid-spiral. He entered the store and was immediately overwhelmed by all of the variety of flowers in front of him. He was never really a flower buying guy to be honest. Looking around, he spotted someone who looked like they worked their and approached them. “Hey. This is gonna sound dumb. Do you guys have any Hanukkah-y flowers? Or like I dunno. What do you get your pregnant sister that says ‘the kids will be cool’ and ‘Happy Hanukkah’ at the same time?” Puck asked before they even had the chance to turn around. His eyes widened once he realized who he was talking to. “Oh. Shit. Hey. I didn’t know you worked here.”
With her last day of work upon her, Madison was shuffling about trying get all the ducks in a row for her absence. Keeping an organized store and office helped, but it was the end of the year, five days til Christmas, things were a little nuts. Truthfully, she was avoiding customer interactions as much as possible, the staff more than plentiful to handle the needs, but when Puck approached she knew she couldn't not attend to a friend, especially when said friend looked so rough. "Hey, yourself," she greeted in return, pausing to wonder if she should press about his appearance, but figured they could get the business out of the way to start. "We've got some Hanukkah arrangements made, if you want the baby factor in there, we'd probably have to make some adjustments." She'd put in for extra when Hunter had ordered his flowers for the holiday. The Berrys and Puckermans were no small part of the town, nor were they the only Jewish families around. "I can show you?"
He nodded at her suggestion and ran a hand through his hair to try and attempt to calm down whatever was going on up there. “I guess let me look at the Hanukkah arrangements first and then we’ll go from there. I can’t tell if she’s super pumped about the babies so I don’t wanna push it, you know?” he replied before following her to the mentioned arrangements. Puck glanced down at her pregnant belly for a moment before smiling softly up at her. “You look good. You getting excited?” He had learned from Quinn that no pregnant woman actually wanted her belly touched or her size commented on. His scabbed hand reached out to inspect one of the Hanukkah arrangements in front of him. “Flowers are so weird. It’s like…here’s this pretty living thing…watch it slowly die on your coffee table…it means I care.” Chuckling, he shook his head. “I know I’m not making any sense. I also don’t know which one of these looks best so I’ll trust whatever you say.”
"Babies?" she echoed, prying gently as she led him a few steps away. It was a small corner that wasn't decked in reds and greens, but she liked to think they'd covered something for every budget all the same. At his question, Madison smiled at him and nodded. "Yeah, we're a week or so from the due date. I'm getting really anxious to meet him," Madison told him, her eyes following the movement of his hand, pausing to examine the blemishes. Something was definitely not right. Or hadn't been right? "You okay?" she finally asked, pausing briefly enough to make it clear it was a genuine question, but not lingering long enough on it to force him. "Trusting a sales person is only gonna get you the biggest, most expensive one, you know?"
He nodded at her prying. “Twins. Gonna be a double full uncle in 5 months,” he replied, “I happy for you guys. I mean Ben is a complete idiot…but he’s an alright dad. I’m sure the little one is gonna be awesome.” Puck noticed her checking out his fucked up knuckles. He stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged at her question. “Yea…I’m fine. Everything is gucci,” he said unconvincingly. Clearing his throat, he turned to face the arrangements next to him. “I’ll spend whatever. I don’t really care.” And it was the truth. It was hard for him to actually care about anything right now.
Madison's eyes grew a little in surprise. She knew the stressful feeling of anticipating one baby when she wasn't sure how to feel yet. Imagining it was two? "Congrats? If you're excited about it. If not... sorry? or good luck? Luck probably either way," she reasoned, then chuckled, "I honestly can't even argue with him being an idiot. But thanks." Gucci Her eyes rolled as she sighed. "I keep telling you gucci isn't a thing. It's a brand. You don't have to talk about it. But you don't have to lie about it either. Fine doesn't have busted knuckles," she told him gently. She picked up one of the vases, "get this one. It's big enough to be noticed, but not take up too much space. It won't take much maintenance because being a nurse is enough work without everything else she has going on. And, with your friends and family discount, you won't be too broke for the other seven nights of Hanukkah."
He shrugged at her reply. “I don’t actually know how I feel yet. Still in a little bit of shock. She’s the smart one in the family. So I definitely wasn’t expecting this. Ask me again closer to her due date.” Puck rolled his eyes right back at her. “If it’s in Urban Dictionary then it’s definitely a thing. You’re just not cool enough to get it,” he shot back, ignoring the second half of her comment. Nodding at her suggestion, he reached out to take the vase into his own hands for a closer look. As he turned it, his eyes couldn’t help but land on his bruised knuckles. Puck sighed and dropped his gaze to the floor. “…I saw my dad,” he said simply. He wasn’t sure how much she knew about Papa Puckerman, but assumed that being involved with Ben meant she knew at least some of their dysfunctional family history. “It didn’t end well….obviously.”
"Fair enough. If you need uncle practice in the meantime, he might only be a half-nephew, but the excessive and rugged handsomeness will surely make him ignore that detail," she teased, though the offer was sincere. She'd never tried to force the family bond too hard. Puck and Ben weren't exactly close as brothers, but she'd never turn away family if they wanted to be there. "There's a lot of things in Urban Dictionary that shouldn't be used. And Gucci is on that list," Madison insisted. She was quiet when he spoke again, imagining a few different scenarios for what exactly seeing the man meant. Puck looked rough, but he didn't look like he'd taken any punches. She rested a hand on his forearm, tentatively giving him a gentle squeeze in some form of silent support. Maybe he'd continue, maybe he'd take interest in the flowers again, but either way, she wanted him to know she was there.
“Excessive and rugged handsomeness is a very very important part of being an uncle,” he smirked back. “We’ll see though. I don’t think me and Ben in the same room is a good idea…especially if you want family photos that don’t involve him rocking the Rocky Balboa look.” He looked down at her hand on his arm. He knew she wanted to make sure he was okay and he knew she knew that he was not okay. But he couldn’t tell her everything. Not when she was so close to Ben. Sighing, he put the vase down on the shelf. “He hurt someone I care about. So I hurt him. I paid him off and told him to leave town and never come back. Which means I bough us about two months of Papa Puckerman free life…until he runs out of money and comes back to ruin someone else’s life.”
"Fortunately Gabe and I can roam free of Ben from time to time. If you want," she told him, still not really understanding the entirety of that situation. But that could wait, couldn't it? Keeping them separated kept conflict at bay and that was enough for now. "And that's the vicious cycle?" Madison asked curiously. It would be a lie to say she didn't have curiosities about the infamous man, for gossip's sake alone, but even more because her son came from that. "Do you feel any better having done all of that? Knowing he's gone, even if temporarily?"
“You sure? Because I’m pretty sure you’re literally stuck with Ben until that kid turns 18.” Puck shrugged at her follow up questions. “That’s the vicious cycle. Dad needs money. He shows up. Causes a bunch of shit. I pay him to leave and to not contact ma. He leaves for a bit. Then always finds his way back. Usually most people at least know OF him by now to avoid him at all costs. Wasn’t the case this time.” He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Does it look like I feel any better? I don’t think he’s actually gone. He’s just laying low. There are too many Puckermans in this place for him to completely disappear. You know…Ben is kinda lucky. I wish dad knocked up ma and just fucking left her. Having a dad for eight years just to have him up and leave is worse than never having a dad at all,” he commented bitterly. “By the way, Peyton and I have torpedoed so if you wanna go make out in the back room I’m down,” he added, trying to lighten up the conversation.
"Doesn't mean we have to be together twenty-four seven," she pointed out. Puck wasn't wrong, he didn't look good. But she hadn't seen him for days either, so this could, in fact, be better than he'd been. "If you stopped giving him money, would he keep coming back?" Madison challenged carefully. "Ignore him and he'll go away is such elementary bullshit advice, but if he can't get what he's coming for..." It probably wasn't her place to be offering advice, she knew. "For whatever it's worth, I'm sorry you went through all of that, then and now. You don't deserve to have people like that around you." She swatted at his arm then and shook her head defiantly. "What is it with Puckermans and wanting to make out in the backroom?" she teased, "besides, we've gone through the many reasons why it could never happen."
“If I stop giving him money he’ll ask my mom. Or Sarah. Or reach out to anyone with his last name. I’d rather deal with it myself. Maybe me actually hitting him this time will change something. But I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” Puck shrugged and dropped his arms to his side. “You never hooked up at work? I’ve hooked up at work a bunch of times. The first time Peyton and I hooked up was at the studio. I think it’s the risk of being caught and getting paid while you’re fucking,” he explained with a smirk, “hey I held up my half of the deal. Just waiting for you.” He picked up the vase she suggested. “I think I’ll go with this one. Thank you, McCarthy…for everything.”
Madison nodded along with his reasoning. On some level she could relate to the need to be the protector, even if her circumstances were far from relatable. She would hope it worked the way he wanted it to. What else could she do? "Oh, no, I hooked up at work," she admitted, gesturing to the whole of her belly. "Maybe that's my aversion to it." She only shook her head at his insistence, but that was the game they played anymore, wasn't it? "C'mere," she said in a brief warning, before tucking into his side and squeezing a hug around him. "Wash your hair before you see Sarah, okay? And brush your teeth, with toothpaste, instead of Jack," she recommended, and while her tone was light, her face made it clear it was serious business. "Door's always open, Puck."
Puck dropped his gaze to her belly and raised an eyebrow. “Well shit. Nice work, Madison.” Her warning didn’t give him enough time to dodge the affection. He awkwardly placed his arm around her and patted her shoulder slightly. “I hate hugs…” he muttered, but let it happen. He let go and reached into his wallet to pull out the appropriate amount of cash. “But if Ke$ha brushes her teeth with a bottle of Jack why can’t I,” he joked as he handed her the money. Tucking the vase under his arm, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll catch you around, beautiful.” Smirking, he turned around to leave the store.
1 note
·
View note
Text
Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice
Halloween has always been your favorite holiday, and with the past few years being very hard on you, this one was special. New home, new life. What the hell were you supposed to do when a very handsome and clumsy Chris Evans falls into your bookstore hiding from fans? Do you rescue him or throw him to the werewolves. Tonight is the night where you could dwell on the past you’ve been running from or focus on new beginnings. Which one would you choose?
Words: 5138
Halloween was one of your favorites times of the year. The smell of autumn in the air and having pumpkins surround you as you walked to and from places, made your heart melt into a gooey pile of candy corn. It brought up memories of you as a kid with your parents trick or treating and costumes, eating sweets until you were sick. It made you miss them terribly since they passed but you felt closer to them with fall in the air. If you had any doubts about your recent relocation, this would've crushed them all at once. The new town you were living in brought back those recollections like a flash flood and rather than drowning your were swimming and loving every second.
You just moved to a small Boston suburb where everyone knew everyone, and it was a far cry from the last ten years in LA, and you adored it. While you missed some aspects of LA, you were happy to find your new home, and you worked at a bookstore downtown, which you enjoyed. It was a more straightforward way of life, and you finally felt at home and safe from the chaos of LA, where you could barely make ends meet. You only missed your friends and close camaraderie that you had with them. Skyping wasn't the same, but you doubted that you would ever be able to go back, you barely had made it here, to begin with.
As you were unpacking the latest inventory of books in the now peaceful bookstore, you heard the front door chime and some quick rustling before you went up front to see what the commotion was. Your current weapon of choice was Hemmingway but it was a heavy book, and you had decent aim. With it being Halloween you could only imagine what terror awaited you. People were already dressed up, and you were about to close the store to go home and get ready for an evening out with a friend at a neighborhood party.
What you discovered when you snuck up behind a bookcase was quite amusing that you found yourself silently staring, trying to figure out what exactly was going on.
Here was this vastly built man in a blue henley shirt and snug jeans with a coordinating baseball cap hunched over the overstuffed chair. He was peering through the blinds like he was hiding from the Wolfman himself and it was all you could do to contain the snicker inside. If he cowered any more, you were sure the henley was going to tear right off the man's back and run in the other direction from the abuse. You came out from your hiding space and exposed yourself fully with books in hand.
"I would ask you if you were interested in the horror section, but something tells me you've had enough of that tonight?" He nearly jumped out of his skin but instead stood up from the couch and tripped on the coffee table, landing him flat on his ass. As he lay sprawled out before you, a giggle erupted from your throat. The blush that crept up his face was one that made you flush a similar shade of red.
You looked out the window similarly as he did previously while he tried to compose himself. "Sorry to intrude on you, miss." You ignored his apology while still peering out on the sidewalk and street. "So which goblin or witch are you hiding from tonight?" When you turned around he let out a smile that would break the streetlights for a mile and dropped his head, rubbing the back of his neck, you assumed as a nervous tick.
"Or should I say fans, Captain." He laughed seemingly embarrassed that you knew who he was. "I've been caught." You switched the blinds closed and locked the door and shot your most menacing glare his way but quickly lost it and laughed. "Don't worry; I'm not a creeper. You can hide out here while I close up. I'm more of a Winter Soldier girl myself." He feigned mock hurt as he clutched his ridiculously hard chest laughing and you smirked as you set the books down.
"If a buncha frat girls didn't just nearly mob me, I wouldn't be hurt, but one less crazed fan is okay by me. I should at least be happy that you aren't Team Ironman." He leaned his elbows on the glass counter as you scoffed at him for his blasphemous comment and he threw you another signature smile. "Anything I can help with? Ya know since I just threw myself into your store and at the mercy of your good graces." You grinned while you avoiding his gaze and closed out the till then putting up a few books. "I wouldn't mind a walk to the bus stop. The ghouls are out this tonight, along with the douchebags." He paused but then offered another solution. "I can do you one better. How bout a lift home?" You looked up at him with narrowed eyes, and he paused under the scrutiny. "C'mon! I'm Captain America."
"Let me ask you this, CAP. Say a strange man comes barreling in the store hiding from some random girls and offers a young woman a ride home on Halloween. Should she trust him? Seems a little sketch to me." He reflected on the scenario with a handsome, serious face that nearly made you swoon. "Under any other circumstances, I would tell her to run the other way and to make sure she wasn't wearing heels. In this incident, though I would say you are more than safe and would even call my mom to give you references." His face was earnest, and you wanted to believe that you were safe but too many years in LA gave you suspicions.
"OK, call her up." His brows shot to his hairline. "Seriously?" You nodded and crossed your arms over your chest, his eyes flicked to your cleavage but didn't linger. He passed the first test. Well done.
"No way am I getting in a car with a stranger on Halloween before I talk to his momma and make sure he's a gentleman." He gave a genuine and yet nervous laugh as he pulled out his phone and called Mrs. Evans.
"Hey, Ma. Yea Yea. I'm on my way. I got sidetracked by a mob of fans and had to lay low." He laughed, and you heard her ask if he was ok. "Yea, I'm good. Actually found a nice bookshop to hide out in, yea that's the one. Hey, can you talk to..Y/N?" He looked at your tag. "Yes, ma'am. I offered her a ride home, and she said she doesn't get in the car with strangers. So I said I'd call you...Yea." He handed you the phone.
"Hello?" A bright and cheery voice came on the line. "Hi, honey. I love that bookstore. I bring my grandkids in there all the time. I've seen you, and you are just the sweetest thing." You laughed at her observation. "Well, it is my job, Mrs. Evans." She laughed. "Nonsense, call me Lisa. I can tell you're nice. You even hid that brute of a son of mine when you could've told him to beat it. So thank you." You laughed at her easy nature and humor. "So you can vouch that he won't murder me?" For that, she was laughing hysterically. "He won't murder you, but he will try and smother you with his charms no doubt. Honey, make him work for it. That boy is a handful." You smiled. " And who says I'm not?"
"Thatta girl. Now if he doesn't hold the door open for you, call me. I will give him the ass reaming he deserves. I raised him better than that." You giggled. You already enjoyed her so much; you had to pay attention to the next time she came in. "Yes, ma'am " You hung up and handed him the phone, and he looked at you expectantly.
"She said that if you murdered me, you have to answer to her, so I suppose you can drive me home. Just remember, I'm fragile cargo." He smirked at your acceptance to his offer, and he held the door open and stood with his hands in his pockets and face down as you locked up.
"So where is your chariot, sir." His brows perked up, and you wanted to facepalm instantly. "Sorry, occupational hazard." He chuckled and held out his arm for you to cautiously take. "I can be your prince charming." You scoffed and looked at his ridiculously handsome face. "Whoa there on the charm, big boy. I may live here now, but I'm from LA." He walked you to his truck, and you laughed. "Overcompensating?" He barked out a laugh. "Is that an invitation to find out." He shut the door and jogged over to the driver side. He could go from flirty to a gentleman with the flip of a switch. It was like he was speaking a bilingual language so effortlessly as second nature, he didn't even realize it. He was dangerous and a playboy. You needed to be careful.
"So where to?" You gave him directions. "You live two blocks from me. That's convenient." You smirked out the window. "What? To borrow sugar?"
"Well if you ever need anything you can swing by, I'll give you my number." You simply nodded and looked at him skeptically. "What!? You're looking at me like a wolf in sheep's clothing. I'm a nice guy. I swear, you even talked to my mom." You smiled and looked at your hands. "Yea, she also warned me of your irresistible charm." He nodded silently. "Well, I promise not to throw unnecessary charm your way. I will only do what I mean and mean what I say. Fair?" You smiled and nodded your head.
"So LA? Why here?" You sighed and just went for it. "I lived there for ten years, and it was a struggled to make ends meet and then I found a job here at the bookstore and decided to just up and leave. Start fresh on a new coast. My parents and I lived in a small town, and I just wanted to get back to the small town vibe, ya know?" He went between watching you and looking at the road. One hand was on the wheel, and the other was on his leg, but he was intent on you. "Sorry, TMI?" He shook his head earnestly.
"No, I like authentic talk and hate bullshitting all the time. It drives me crazy all the interviews and surface level conversations." He grinned as he looked out the window. "This is my home even though I also have one in LA. It's ...just not the same. I miss here and the people. You fit here. Here suits you by the way." Out of everything that he had sent that had sent you in a flurry, it was the best compliment you had been given in a long time. It confirmed what you had felt. This was home. You knew that you were blushing and didn't even try to hide the smile that graced your soft features and Chris took notice of it instantly. "Thank you." He cleared his throat to get his focus back.
"Of course. So are you going to Gilley's party tonight?" You looked at him questioning how he knew. "Hey, don't sweat it. I just figured since you're in the neighborhood and all. We go every year to the shindig."
"Oh well, in that case, yea I'm going with a friend. Anything I should be prepared for?" He ruminated a moment for took his hat off rubbing his hands through his mussed up hair. "Well yea, they can get pretty rowdy. But mostly the girls are just ridiculous, a lot of them come from the college, so they are ...younger. I don't see you being that kind of girl." You felt a twinge of jealousy at the thought of girls hanging all over him but pushed it aside, especially when you were older. It was his life, and you weren't apart of it, you could only stew in the corner tonight with a beer in hand.
"Well, you should be used to it by now. Occupational hazard some would say." He smiled and rubbed the back of his neck again, turning another corner. "So what are you dressing up as?" You smiled at his question excitedly. "Flapper girl." He looked over at you, feeding off of your enthusiasm. "Oh yeah? I bet you'll be one good looking dame." You instantly blushed and bit your lip, and he couldn't help but laugh. "Well, I just learned something new about you." He said teasingly, and it peaked your interest instantly.
"What's that?" He shrugged indifferently. "I want to test my theory out later a bit more." He pulled up to your duplex and stopped, yet you didn't get ready to exit right away. "What makes you think you'll see me later tonight." He put his arm over the back of the seat but refrained from being presumptuous and putting it behind you. "Oh, I'll make sure of it." You laughed but made a point that it was at him and not with him. "You sure can manage that through these hoards of women you keep complaining about?" He beamed a smile and peaked over to look at you while you climbed out of his truck. "I need a pretty dame to rescue me again."
You looked back at him with a smirk. "You're gonna need rescuing alright. Especially when I tell your mom that you didn't open the door for me when we got to my place." He immediately frowned and you heard him mumble a curse as you shut his door and skipped to your place, refusing to look back. As you closed your front door, you finally heard him leaving and plopped down on your loveseat, recounting the evening and how it all unfolded. Holy fuck, that was one helluva turn of events.
After you felt pleased enough with your dress and retro makeup you and your friend, Sarah, walked the very short walk over to Gilley's house for the party. To say you were shocked at the turnout was an understatement. People were littered everywhere, although the man had a large enough house to satisfy the mass of people rather quickly.
Sarah pulled you arm in arm with her cat tail hitting you as she sashayed through the front door. You immediately snickered at all of the slutty cats but assured her that she was the best-looking kitten in the heat you had ever seen. She purred as you both headed to Gilley's well set up bar.
"SARAH!! My sexy woman! You made it." The burly 31-year-old forever frat boy made his way over to engulph you and Sarah into a bear hug. "Lovin' the outfit ladies." He poured you mixed drink and showed you around his house and the different entertainment tables for drinking games to your amusement.
"Don't look now but behind an ugly ass bunch of girls in cliche ass slutty costumes is a very dapper looking Chris Evans. That man is staring a hole into you girl. I mean I know you said you met him today but what the hell did you slip him? He's got it bad." You swatted her arm. "Oh please, that man is trouble. He could have anyone here; I'm the last thing he needs. " She looked at you over the straw of her mixed drink with soft eyes. "Don't do that. You deserve something good. You've had a shitty few years, first your parents dying then LA being a money sucking bust. So what if he likes you, let him. Maybe he can be your sugar daddy." If she hadn't added the last part, you might have teared up at the shitty memories flooding up.
Your parent both dying in the car wreck and barely having money to survive in LA ...yeah. The past few years had been rough. Which meant falling for a Christopher Robert Evans would not end well. At least not for you. You rolled your eyes at Sarah as she hip bumped you. "Fine, if you're so anxious when you start to feel something for him take a drink. You'll get drunk and forget it and have fun at least." You laughed, maybe she had something. You took care to glance over your shoulder and saw him looking handsome as ever and dressed to kill...wait no. He was dress to match you. He was a trim and attractive, dressed like the devil himself.
Without thinking you just left Sarah, hearing her giggling in the distance as you walked over to him. You had a surge of confidence when his eyes locked with you and he couldn't even smile, only staring at your red lips and perfectly styled hair. He was sitting with four girls giggling and talking about Captain America and such around him.
"Hey there, sorry it took me so long to make it baby." He couldn't contain the smile that graced his face as he beamed up at you and stood. You wrapped your arms around his perfect shoulders with his lopping around your waist. "It's no problem. I'm patient, doll. Just talking about movie stuff with these fans." He sat back down, and you sat in his lap like it was the most natural thing you had ever done. The fangirls that were hoping to get to set off some fireworks with the Captain tonight were thoroughly disappointed as he was giving you all of his attention now. The redhead dressed as Black Widow chimed in. "So are you going to be able to play to beer pong with us later, Chris?" Her voice whined, and it was all you could do not to recoil. "Sorry, I plan on spending the evening with my girl tonight. You understand, though. Have a great night ladies!"
And with a collective and audible sigh they wandered off with their tails, some literally between their legs. "Well, that was quite worth it. Thank you!" You smiled at him, suddenly aware of how close you were and making a move to get up. He took his hat off and set it on the arm of the seat and put his hand delicately on your leg. "Not so fast, doll. You get up they'll know we were playing them." His voice was low and gravelly, and you shivered a bit. "Cold, doll?" You shook your head, and he only smirked at you.
"So what's with the costume, Evans?" He shrugged and leaned his head to the side as you took a drink of your beer. Every time you catch a feel....
It was going to be a loong night.
"No costume really. Fitted suit and suspenders, a hat. I just wanted to make an effort for you. That's all." You shied away hoping he couldn't see your blush. "That's very kind of you. Do I get the full-service gentleman tonight? Tap dance and all?" He laughed. "Tell you what. Stay with me allll night, and I'll do a little soft shoe for ya. How's that sound?"
"Something tells me you're not a soft kind of guy?" He spewed out part of the beer he just drank and wiped the back of his hand on his chin. "Oh, we're going the route huh, doll? Naughty, dame?" You bit your lip and grabbed a shot from one of the guys walking by who didn't blink an eye at you, only laughing. "See I have a theory about you, sweetheart."
You let the burn run down your throat as you only hummed in response. "You've got a word kink. You like someone who can talk the talk isn't that right, sweets." He voice was low and throaty in your ear. Damnit, he was good. Either that or you were damn near transparent. Right now you were going with both. Both is good.
You two had made your way around the room, and he had introduced you to his friends from school and played some drinking games. You were losing yourself in the night, and you were sure if you were getting drunk on the alcohol or him. All of his friends and you had seemingly hit it off, and that only was worse, mainly because you couldn't get drunk enough. You knew you were going to remember the night and forgetting him was going to be hard. Sarah was toasted, but Gilly had a soft spot for her, and you knew she was safe with him watching out for her.
"I'm going to go and risk the ladies room line, I imagine you'll see me around dawn." Chris laughed as your rolled your eyes. "I'll wait for you, doll." You suppressed the fluttering butterflies and took a drink to drown them with booze and walked in the direction of the bathroom.
Little did you know that Sarah was drunk beyond belief and loose lips sink ships. "So, you and my girl seem to be hitting it off, Evans." Her slurred words would be nearly unrecognizable by some but the Boston native spoke her language, sometimes fluently. He smiled to himself as he watched you walk away. "Yea, she's somethin' else. You think she'd go for a guy like me?" He knew that he was fishing, and it was wrong, but he needed a bone thrown his way. Sure you guys were having a fabulous night, but he wanted something more than a drunk filled night of laughter. He wanted to see you again, and if Sarah just said that it was a possibility, hell that was all he needed.
"She's a tough one to crack, Chris. You're every girl's type, so that's gonna scare her off." He furrowed his brows and Sarah grabbed his check roughly not realizing her strength at the moment. "Hey, sad Hulk. I'm not sayin you don't have a chance. Why you think she's been drinkin sooo hard? Every time she drinks it's because she's feelin' somethin?" He looked up at her and gently took her wrist off of his face. "What do you mean?" She shrugged haphazardly. "She was scared she'd fall for you t'night. So I told her to just drink it off so she'd forget it. Girl can hold her liquor though."
Sarah found that hilarious and had a giggle fit, and Chris rolled his eyes. "That's some fucked up shit, Sarah." She hit his ridiculously hard shoulder thinking she would move him, huffing when he was resolute in his stance. "Shut the fuck up! She's had a shit life. Her parents died in a car wreck, and the same week she found her boyfriend fucking her roommate. She had to couch surf because she was homeless and save every penny to move out here and start over. She has no family and doesn't want to get her heart broken by America's sweetheart. Can you bl--."
"What the hell, Sarah?!" You stood there hearing the conversation about you between your very drunk friend and the man that you were grappling to keep any feelings for. "Chris, if you have questions about me I would appreciate you ask me and not someone else." He put his hands up in defense. "It's not like that, I just asked if I had a chance with you and---." You grabbed your purse from behind the bar and waved by to Gilly who was walking back over to Sarah who was looking more and more unbalanced by the moment.
"Well, I can answer that for you. No. You don't. Men like you don't end up with women like me." You turned on your heel and made a quick exit seeing his fan club by the door. "He's all your ladies." They heard you and saw a determined Evans following behind. They were also headstrong, and they saw this as a second chance at seeing some Captain Action and blocked his exit as you made a quick getaway.
Your apartment was about a 20-minute walk, but you weren't really in a hurry and enjoyed looking at all the houses and seeing a few of them getting toilet papered this late in the evening. You had a delicious buzz going on but drunk you were not. It's like your body refused to let the memories of Chris go. His laughter and the touch of his hands on the small of your back. He was so easy to talk to and get along with, it was like second nature. Then he would turn and whisper things with such a double meaning it would make your insides turn warm. He could keep your toes on point like that of a premier ballerina. Yet you had just met him, was this what love at first sight felt like? You laughed at loud at the sheer cliche of it but damnit to hell, it sure felt like it was something profound.
Lost in thought and out of nowhere someone rolled up beside you startling the living daylights out of you. "Holy fuckity fuck!" You launched off and whacked the random assailant in the head with your purse, and he grunted. "Shit!! It's me Y/N! Chris!!" You stopped and held your chest and knelt over a moment. "Well even the more reason to hit you, asshat! Scaring the piss outta me and invasion of privacy. Now go away!"
You turned to keep walking but he jumped in front of you, and you stopped knowing you weren't going to get around the mountain of a man. "I will yell fire and wake up the whole street." He put his hands up in submission. "I just want to talk and make sure that you get home safe, please?" You sighed in surrender. "Fine, you have 8 minutes till I'm home to make your case." He smirked and took a place in step next to you in silence at first.
"I didn't mean to fall into that deep of a conversation with Sarah I was just thirsty for information about you, and I didn't go about it the right way." You agreed but yet allowed him to continue. "Truth is, I'm not that good with this dating thing. I may have a quick charm, but it doesn't go past the first meet, especially when I really like a woman. I'm clumsy and trip over my words, I'm not suave or a charmer. I have some pretty solid moments that make you think I've got it going for me but I'm insecure and doubt myself all the time. I had a moment of uncertainty and asked Sarah if I had a chance with you, that's all." You paused and looked at him, not saying anything but just searching his eyes for truth, and you couldn't find a lie. Yes, he was a fucking great actor, but you couldn't believe he was performing right now.
"Thank you for that Chris. I'm sorry I went off on you, it's just I didn't want you to see me like that. Know all of the gritty details. My life isn't glamorous, and that's ok...for me. But I see the way women look at you and the way those girls at the party looked at you. I'm not that kind of woman, I will never look like that or act like that. I can't be that for, and I won't fit in your world." He shook his head as if you ever word you said was a foreign language and made no sense to him.
"That bullshit." Your brows arched and you were ready to go straight up defense mode with Captain America himself. In fact, that was the image that you saw for a split second. Holy hotness. His shoulders were broad, and he was ready for a verbal battle if that was what was needed. "I know you've only known me one night but in that time did I made you feel like that was the kind of woman I wanted? Hell, you met me because I was literally hiding from the likes of that kind of girl. And look around you." He waved his arms around dramatically. "This is my world. The acting world is just my work and hey if I get to take you on a red carpet date, that would be unbelievable. If that's not something you want, then that's ok too. I can take my mom." He smiled at you adoringly while your heart was hammering out of your chest, processing what he was saying to you.
"What do you want from me? No games just..tell me." He laughed and stepped closer to you. He bit his lip, and you could see some desperation crease the worry lines on his face. His hands gently ran up your arm while the other found home on your waist, your breath got caught in your throat.
"I want you to give me a chance. I want a chance to take care of you and show you that there are good men out there. I want to be that man for you, doll, and I knew it as soon as you threw that sass at me in the bookstore. If there is such a thing as love, at first sight, you had me right then. I'm trying real hard not to scare you off but fuck it. No games right?" You smiled and looked at your feet, taking a moment you gain your composure.
"You sure it's not the booze talking?" He gripped your hip to gain your attention again. "Doll, I switched to water well over an hour ago to be your DD. It's not the booze, and the only thing I'm drunk on is you." You wrapped your arms around his neck. "That's a crappy line there, Evans." He shrugged and leaned his head a little closer. "I told you I'm not as smooth with the ladies as most people think." He finally closed the distance and claimed your lips as his. The warm and lush plumpness pressing up against your painted red ones, gentle and chaste. He pulled away and looked adoringly at you causing you to blush like a damsel in one of your books. "Well, you managed to get this girl." His brows shot up in a pleased and excited manner. "Oh yeah! I get the girl, huh?" You let the palm of your hand trail down and rest just above his heart.
"You most certainly get the girl, but one thing?" You leaned up and wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, and he pulled your flush with his body. "Anything, doll." You smiled up at the most handsome man that you ever laid eyes on. "You use the knowledge of that word kink on me when the time is right." His eyes instantly darkened and he let out a dark laugh. "Oh, I plan on it, baby girl. I plan on it."
The strikethroughs below didn’t work so head on over to the tag list and take a peek or make corrections.
Feel free to add yourself or send me an ask!!!
Tag list: LINK
PLEASE COMMENT AND MY ASK BOX IS ALWAYS OPEN. I’M A LOVER OF ALL MY READERS SO FEEL FREE TO HIT ME UP ANYTIME!!! THANK YOU!!!
Forever Tags
@mscaptainjones @ssweet-empowerment @shynara51 @loislp @dragonselene @frozenhuntress67 @shorteststories97 @haru-ririchiyo @sabr-n @hothornymetalkinkygirl @kaelamarissa @m-a-t-91 @whyyougottabesorudee @you-be-mad-bitch @goalie-love @moodygrip @myersge @slytherin-in-hufflepuff-robes @pvnk-bivch @peaceinourtime82 @slytherinbratt @just4muggles @darrkshhhadow @zlixlle @tacohead13 @9769997118 @afacelessgirlinthecrowd @killerbumblebee @helloitsmeamie203 @buttercupbandit @heidimonkey @violetrose90201 @nishanki1 @mrs-meghan-winchester @thejourneyneverendsx
Steve Rogers @patzammit @acupofhotlatte @slytherinbratt @fangurl-of-all-things @helloitsmeamie203 @guera31
#Chris Evans#chris evans x reader#chris evans reader#chrisevans#OneShots#chris evans oneshot#chrisevansimage#reader#imagine#love#romance#fluffy#fluff
187 notes
·
View notes
Text
She Doesn’t Like Dogs (Richie Tozier x Bi reader)
What’s up losers guess who’s back with some Richie shit. Don’t worry he doesn’t die this time. I found a giant prompts list that gave me some cool ideas and this is one of them. This is also my first time ever writing an LGBT character so yay me.
prompts: Just pretend to be my date
Excuse you
I shouldn’t be in love with you
its midnight what do you want
those things you said yesterday.. did you mean them
they don’t like dogs. it wasn’t gonna work out
Lotta prompts I know
Warnings: Swearing, sexual suggestion
Aged up to 17 btw
(Y\N) Your Name
(Y\N\N) Your Nicname
(Y\E\C) Your eye color
You sat in your living room with your bestfriend Richie. He was babbling on about some stupid fight he got into with some dude at the arcade the other day who was from the town over. Your focus was more on to the t.v. show playing in front of you, seeing as Richie gets mouthy with everybody and this is not an uncommon occurrence. But when Richie started snapping his fingers in your face your attention was immediately brought to him.
“Are you even listening to me (Y\N)” You turn off the t.v. and turn to the trashmouth. “Sorry Rich” He laughs and continues his story. Your mind gets distracted again, this time by Richie’s leisurely appearance on your couch. His sweatpants hanging low off his hips showing off the band of his underwear, no shirt hanging from his shoulders. His beautiful dark brown curls all messy from waking up only about an hour ago, no glasses yet. The gorgeous sight,to say the least, was something you wouldn’t mind seeing every morning. You were pulled back into reality by the words “Just pretend to be my date” that had so happen to fall out of Richie’s mouth. Shocked, your eyes widened.
“Excuse you”
“Oh come one (Y\N) it will be fun. All we have to do is show up for like ten minutes, I’ll flaunt you around a bit and we can be on our way.” You began to grow nervous. To say that you had a crush on Richie would be an understatement. You had only told your other bestfriend Ben Hanscom, but no doubt the other losers knew about it by now. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if even Richie himself knew. Thinking about what he had just said made you snap at him.
“I’m not some piece of meat to be flaunted around Richie!”
“Right sorry, no not at all, but please please (Y\N). You don’t have to wear anything fancy, its just crashing some stupid highschool dance.” You looked into Richie’s hopeful eyes and caved in. Damn were you a sucker for those eyes.
“Fine.” You let out a sigh. Richie jumped out of his seat hugging you.
“Thank you so much!” You pushed him off of you, the sudden gesture startling you.
“On one condition-” You raised an eyebrow and held up your index finger.
“Ok what”
“You let me pick what you wear” The trashmouth houghed and rolled his eyes, but to hell if you weren’t gonna have your fun with this too.
“Fine ok you can pick out my clothes” You smile satisfied as Richie laughs at your childish grin thinking to himself ‘That smile fucking kills me. Damn Tozier you are so fricken whipped.’ Truth be told the boy was head over heals for his bestfriend, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do to see that amazing smile that sends an unshakable feeling of happiness from the pit of his stomach, across her face.
***** ****** *****
It was the day of the dance and you were just about to go shopping to find Richie’s outfit, when the phone rang. You heard your mom answer it so you continued to get clothes for the day. That was quickly interrupted by your mom yelling up to you
“Honey, its for you!” You quickly walk over to the phone in your room.
“Hello?” You hold the phone against your shoulder with the side of your face,
“How’s it going beautiful?” Your girlfriends voice graced your ears as you were looking for a nice sweater to wear.
“Just looking for something to wear. what about you sweets?” A few months ago you were starting to feel lonely and hopeless about ever being with Richie. That’s when Elaine, more known as Lainey, came into the picture. You met at a dinner and she asked if she could buy you a shake. Why the hell not right? A pretty girl wants to buy you a drink, you flattered. You see you weren’t really sure if you were bisexual or not, but it was something you had seriously questioned on numerous occasions so it couldn’t hurt to figure it out. You still weren’t quite sure and you didn’t know if it was because you just weren’t or because you were to in love with Richie to feel that way about Lainey. Either way you knew you had to break it off with her and probably soon, she was a nice girl and you didn’t want to end up leading her on.
“Nothing I’m super bored and was wondering if you wanted to hang out today.”
“Ya sure I was just gonna go shopping.”
“Oh cool I’ll meet you where?”
“Why don’t you just pick me up.”
“Ok I’ll see ya later” You said bye and hung up the phone. You already had in mind what you wanted to get Richie and you thought it would be fairly easy to find. When you were finished getting dressed you ran down stairs and put on your Doc Martins then headed out side, Lainey’s car was right where it usually was.
***** ***** *****
When you got home you fell onto the couch letting out a huge sigh. The shopping part of the trip was successful, You got exactly what you needed. Everything else went down hill. When you had gotten to the store and Lainey had asked what you were here for you had totally blanked on the fact that you told her absolutely nothing about the deal with Richie. You weren’t sure what her reaction would be, but you had it would be a good one. It wasn’t. She ended up yelling at you, saying that it was cheating and that you couldn’t go. You being the stubborn ass that hated being told what to do, told her that, that was bullshit and you were going anyway. She didn’t like that very much. So she decided to walk out shouting “Don’t even think about fucking calling me!” and drove away leaving you to walk home. After a few minutes you heard Richie come in.
“What’s up hot stuff?” You simply through the bag of clothes at him.
“Shopping go well?” You huffed
“I’m gonna take that as a no.” Richie headed to the bathroom to change. The subject was thankfully avoided when Richie shouted for the bathroom right across from where you lay on the couch.
“Are these girls jeans!?” Your mind shifted from the happenings at the mall and you burst out laughing. He walked out grabbing at his crotch
“My wang can’t fucking breathe in these damn jeans (Y\N) my balls feel like they are being shoved back up!!” You fell of the couch laughing. Once you compose yourself you look up at Richie standing there. No shirt, just like this morning, the jeans were unbuttoned and unzipped, the sight was nothing short of amazing. You couldn’t help but bite your lip, your cheeks turning pink.
“Enjoying the view sexy?” You snap your eyes to the floor.
“In your dreams Tozier”
“Every night baby. Now come help me take these off” You gulped ‘Oh if only Richie’ You thought to your self and then proceeded to mentally slap yourself for the thought. You heard a chuckle escape from his lips ‘Oh shit can he tell how nervous I am’ You were usually calm and witty, like Richie, but just the way he looked had you all flustered. When you gut the jeans off you had immediately look away afraid of what your mind would do.
“There is a large size in the bag just incase these didn’t fit, but I would put the shirt on first so its easier to tuck in.” You told him folding the jeans and putting them on the dinning room table. After a minute Richie came out (of the closet ;) ;) ) and found you not in the living room. He ventured through the open threshold of the living room into the dining room which lead to the kitchen where he had found you. You turned around from the window to find a very handsome looking Richie dressed in a black button down tucked into a pair of black tight fitting women’s jeans, which he looked rather nice in.
“Well look at you dapper Dan.” You say walking up to him, looking him up and down. He laughed at you remark.
“These fit much better, but my balls and dick will still be screaming by the end of tonight.
“Come on lets go watch a movie or two before we go.” He put an arm around you leading you to the living room.
“Or we could do other things.” Richie hints at being the trashmouth that he is. You roll your eyes and pick out a movie.
Halfway through the second movie you decide to get up and get changed. You walk upstairs and down the hall to your room. You turned on a cd to listen to while getting dressed. You put on something kinda fancy, but not to fancy that you wouldn’t wear it causally. You had already put on some make up this morning but you decided to touch it up a bit and put on some lipstick. You walked down stairs and Richie’s eyes were glued to your presence.
“Well damn (Y\N\N) I think my jeans are getting tight.” You slap him upside the head.
“Quit being such a perv Tozier.”
He rubs the back of his head laughing. As you were putting on your shoes Richie couldn’t take his eyes off you. He truly thought you looked breathtaking, and he was kicking himself that this wasn’t a real date. ‘If only’ he thought.
***** ***** *****
When you got to the dance you just about snuck in without being caught. The large gymnasium was filled with teenagers, some bored sitting at their table, but there was a lot of kids who looked like they were having fun. You were walking around aimlessly till Richie found who he was looking for.
“Well looked who actually showed up.”
Richie introduced you to the guy he fought with at the arcade, apparently about whether or not he could get a girl. The boy who appeared with blonde hair and grey eyes look at you and said
“Blink twice if he is holding you hostage.“
You just laughed, not being very good at social situations.
“I assure you she is here at her own free will. I mean who could resist this.” Richie then put an arm your waist and rested his hand on your hip. You felt a slight blush creep up leaving a pink tint to your cheeks, one of which you prayed to God Richie didn’t see.
You spent the next twenty minutes or so conversing with that dude and his friends none of which you bother to remember the names of, mostly because you were barely even involved in the conversation much to you liking seeing as your social anxiety never takes a fucking rest.
“I’m gonna get a drink, (Y\N) do you want anything?” Richie turned to you and asked. You shook your head no and continued to play with your bracelet you always wear. Richie saw the nervous tick that he had noticed on multiple occasions that you do in social situations like this. He put his hand on your shoulder rubbing his thumb against it, and when you looked back up at him, he gave you a little smile which you returned. You look back to your hand fidgeting with your bracelet. When you looked back over to Richie he was so obviously flirting with some redhead. Your hand went to your hair as you tucked a piece behind your ear. You’ve always wanted to e a redhead. You smiled at the thought of your friend Bev and her beautiful fiery red hair. You wondered for moment if Richie would like you better with red hair. A frown adorned your face as you shake away the thought. ‘Its obvious Richie doesn’t like you and your hair color isn’t and shouldn’t change that (Y\N)’ You scolded yourself internally. Soon Richie came back to the table with his drink and a smirk. You shook your head and shot him a disapproving glare which he returned with a smile.
A slow song to which you did not know the name of was now playing through out the gymnasium. Richie looked over to you, a gleam of what seemed like hopefulness in his eye and asked,
“Do you want to dance?”
You were shocked at first, but obliged none the less. He led you to the dancefloor with a hand at the small of your back, sending shivers up your spine. You made your way to the middle of the dance floor, Richie placed his hands on your hips and your arms rested around his neck. It was nice, for a minute it had felt like you and Richie were the only people there, just talking and laughing a bit. But the boy got self conscious about his strong feeling for the girl he had known for so many years. His mind was so insistent that she would never have feeling for him, that she could do so much better than his sorry ass, never mind the fact that she now had a girlfriend that he has yet to meet. So as a defense, trying so desperately hard to hide his feeling, Richie started checking out other girls. You had noticed the freckled boy suddenly became distracted and only half interested in your conversation. You followed his eyes to the girl in a skin tight dress dancing with some douchey looking guy wearing a letterman jacket. You scoffed, fed up with Richie’s bullshit. You had, had enough and wanted to go home. Involuntarily without any permission from your brain whatsoever, before you even knew you were talking, the sentence “I shouldn’t be in love with you.” had left your mouth with a sour attitude. Richie’s whole body froze when he heard those words. His eyes snapped back to yours in shock.
“What?”
Your eyes widened and body tensed as well. You quickly retracted your arms from around Richie’s neck and practically ran out of the school, Richie hot on your trail. When you had gotten outside you were relived to feel the fresh air fill your lungs. The glasses clad boy grabbed your forearm once he caught up. For a person with much shorter legs you could walk pretty fast. Once you turned around to look at Richie you instantly felt suffocated. At that moment your anxiety was on overload and just wished you had never come.
“Why do you have to be such a dick Richie? You asked me to be your date, albeit pretend date, but that doesn’t change the fact that all you have been doing is flirting and looking at other girls!” You yelled. You heaved out desperate and angry breaths and when Richie just stood there saying nothing you continued to rant.
“You are the only boy I’ve been able to think about since we were fucking twelve, Richie, TWELVE!!! How have you not noticed that I am so damn in love with you, Richie Tozier. Even with fucking Coke bottle glasses you’re still blind as shit!” You both chuckled at that last statement. You sighed heavily. Richie didn’t quite know what to say and he was internally yelling at himself for not being able to say or do anything. You continued to look at him with sad eyes as he stood there silent with a look on his face you couldn’t quite read. You looked down at the ground, defeated.
“Alright well if your just gonna stand there and say nothing I’m calling a cab home.” You turn back toward the school building at the brink of tears, feeling your heart break.
For the first time since they had gotten out side, Richie had finally said something. And boy did he could have said something else, anything else at all, but the boy was left to deride himself as the first thing he said was,
“No, I’ll take you home.” It was quite and sounded almost broken as it came out of his mouth. You huffed, your heart officially shattering as tears welled in your eyes. Oh how he had hoped he would’ve said something different.
“If you don’t mind I would just rather be alone right now.” Your voice came out low sounding almost betrayed.
Richie didn’t like the thought of you taking a cab alone. Although he knew you could handle yourself, he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving you alone with some smug creepy ass middle aged dude. So he handed you his keys.
“Here you take my car, I’ll take a cab.” You obliged just wanting to get out of there. You drove home with tears in your eyes craving the sweet comfort of your bed. When you finally got home, after what felt like forever you went straight to your room got into some sweatpants and a sweatshirt and just went to sleep.
***** ***** *****
You hadn’t talked to Richie since yesterday. It was currently late, around 12 or so and you were sat in your room on the phone with Bev, talking bout various things, but mostly Richie and the happenings of the dance. You suddenly heard taps at your bedroom window.
“I think somebody is throwing things at my window hang on a sec Bev.” The girl on the other side of the phone let out a laugh, knowing full well that it was Richie, having overheard a conversation between him, Bill, and Eddie. She sat patiently on the other side of the phone hoping you wouldn’t hang up and she could hear the encounter with the boy you were currently fucking pissed at, according to your own words. You made it over to the window and pushed aside the curtain to have another pebble hit the window and startle you. You opened the window and looked down to find none other than Richie Tozier.
“What the hell Richie!”
“Let me in we need to talk”
Before you could kindly tell him to fuck off he was already making his way to the other side of the house for you to open the front door. You ground and picked up the phone that was on your bed.
“It’s Richie I’ll call you tomorrow.”
*meanwhile at Bev’s*
“She hung up” Bev said turning to Stan, Mike, Bill, and Ben. Eddie not present because of his mother. The boys all muttered various things along the lines of dammit and shit.
**************
You opened the door with a disgruntled look on your face.
“It’s midnight Richie, what do you want?”
“Can I come in?” Richie asked. You gave him a questioning look unsure if you even wanted him here.
“Look (Y\N) I really need to talk to you please let me in.” He pleaded. You sighed and let him in. The both of you went towards the living room and took a seat on the couch. Richie was reluctant to start, afraid he might say something wrong and mess things up even more. He took a deep breath and said to himself fuck it, its now or never.
“Those things you said yesterday… did you mean them?”
You looked up at him and nodded. “Yeah I did.”
An awkward silence fell as Richie thought about what to say next. Trying to delay the inevitable of saying sorry and the fear that you for some reason wouldn’t except his apology he asks about her, what he though, current relationship. “What about Lainey?“
This question just made you further upset and sent your mind in a spiral of bad endings for you and your bestfriend Richie Tozier.
“She didn’t like dogs. It wasn’t gonna work out. Now are you gonna apologize or not.” You snapped at him not wanting to talk about Lainey and the real reason you guys broke up. All for that stupid dance.
“Look (Y\N) I am so sorry for what I did. I treated you like shit, and you are the last person to deserve that.” He sighed and looked into (y\e\c) eyes trying to find the pull he needed to quite being a pussy.
“The truth is I’m so in love with you it’s not even funny. I was only doing those things because I didn’t think you felt the same way. It was all supposed to be a distraction, I never meant to hurt you.” Richie pulled up his glasses and looked at you waiting for a response. You just stared at him, which scared the boy even more than words. You couldn’t think of anything else to do but bring your hand to his cheek and pull him closer until the gap between your lips was no more. He was shocked at first but kissed back. You two pulled away only for a second before connecting your lips once again, passion running through the both of your veins like a power surge. When you pulled away the second time you took a minute to look in each other eyes before Richie broke the silence.
“Can I have my car keys back now, hot stuff?” You chuckled and got up and grabbed them off the table. Richie snaked an arm around you and rested his chin on the top of your head. “Hey why don’t we go for a drive?” He offered, knowing how much you love aimless car rides with loud music.
“Ok”
#it 2017#richie tozier#richie toizer x reader#ben hanscom#beverly marsh#stan uris#eddie kaspbrak#bill denbrough#mike hanlon
129 notes
·
View notes
Note
May I ask for a scenario for Todoroki having a sister which he hates because she resembles Endeavor but she admires him? And one day finding out she ran away because she thinks everyone hates her and Todoroki finding out she rescued many lives and almost died later on? I need some angst arghh.. and thank you in advanceee!!!!!
I took a few liberties with this, since I wasn’t exactly sure how I should understand the request. I made it so they are twins, because why not. Hope you like it.
Shouto was the older of you two, and he had gotten the amazing quirk combination from your mom and dad. What about you then? Well, you looked just like your father, red hair, and piercing blue eyes. Maybe that was the reason your brother seemed to hate you so much, because you reminded him of your dad. You had a quirk like his too, which made it even worse.
As long as you could remember, Shouto had been avoiding you. You were twins, but not identical ones. You were always an outsider on the family. Your father only cared about Shouto, and your older siblings just played by themselves. You liked to draw and read, and you didn’t need anyone to that with you. Your mother could barely even look at you, before he was sent away. Your didn’t father take care of you, and mostly it was the nanny’s job. Your father only cared about your twin brother. You trained alone too, since you wanted to be a hero someday.
Despite your brother’s seemingly strong dislike for you, you always admired him. He had an amazing quirk, and even though your father beat him all the time. He always got up. He continued to stand up for him, no matter how scared he was.
Shouto had gotten into UA, but you hadn’t even applied there. You wanted to go somewhere else, so you wouldn’t bother anyone. But you leaving would happen sooner then you had planned. You got an ear full from your father one day. About how useless and weak you were, and how your fire couldn’t even light a damn candle. That was the last straw. You packed your stuff and left. Not like anyone was going to miss you anyway. Your brother hated you and your father would just be happy to get rid of you. You were a nuisance.
You just walked out of the house with your backpack. No one was there to stop you, and there was nothing for you in that house. No one to miss you, and no one who would try to find you. You had no idea where you were going, no destination.
“This is going to be an adventure huh.”, you sighed.
You wondered around town for a couple of weeks. Sleeping at a few of your friends houses and just meeting people. You ran into some interesting crowd and spent a few night crashing at their couch.
Shouto had noticed your disappearance and mentioned to his father. He of course just brushed it off like it was nothing. Shouto had never been very fond of you. You looked exactly like his father, and some things you did, also reminded him of his bastard of an old man, but now he was really starting to wonder where you had disappered to. You had been gone for a few weeks already. Shouto surprised even himself by going to the police station, and filing a missing person’s report on you.
It had been almost a month since you left home. Surprisingly, you had heard a few heroes talking about a missing girl, matching your description, but that had to be a coincidence. No way your father would try to find you, but just in case it was you they were looking for, you kept low profile and tried not to run into too many heroes.
It was early evening. You had spend the whole day avoiding the police and heroes. It was hard work, since there were heroes everywhere, but you managed. You had just stopped running from a hero, you thought had recognized you. You were now walking down the street, with your hood pulled over your head, so it would be harder to recognize you. Suddenly you heard an explosion and a hot gust of wind hit your face and threw your hood off. There had been an explosion at a residential building just next to you. It was maybe three stories high and you could see the fire spreading fast. There still seemed to be people inside.
You didn’t hesitate, you just ran. Staight into the burning building, and up the steps to the most upper floor. Your quirk gave you resistance to fire, but the smoke wasn’t good for you. You checked every apartment you could. There was a family trapped by the flames, but you managed to get them to the stairwel and forced them to just run. You found a few more people, and shielded them from the flames so they could get out. In the last apartment you checked, you found a little boy. You grabbed him and ran out of there.
You got outside and placed the boy down, near the ambulance that had just arrived. The firemen were already there, and they were extinguishing the fire. You felt sick, and like you couldn’t breath. Then you passed out.
The next time you opened your eyes. You were in a brightly lighted room, laying on a bed. Hospital maybe? You sat up, and noticed you weren’t alone in the room. Shouto was sitting in the armchair that was plazed in the corner of the room.
“Why are you here?”, you blurted out.
“Oh, you’re awake.”, he said nervously.
“Why am I in a hospital? And more importantly, why are you here too?”
“You got a carbon monoxide poisoning, when saving all those people from the burning building. And what do you mean why am I here?”
“Well, you hate me, so why would you bother? I know father isn’t going to show up, since he doesn’t give a damn about me anyway. But really why are you here Shouto?”
“I don’t hate you. Why would you think that?”
It was true. He didn’t hate you, he was not very fond of you before, but he could never hate you. Now that you had really proven that you were nothing like your father, he actually regretted his past behaviour.
“Bullshit. I know you hate me. How much have we talked in the past 15 years huh? Probably about twice. How many times have you told me to just leave you alone? Every damn time I tried to talk to you. And you never tried to comfort me after father had been trying to "train” me.“, you growled.
Your tears were threathening to spill over, and what was meant to sound angry, probably just sounded like supressed sobs.
Shouto had no idea what to say to you. He just got up and mumbled that he would go get you some tea or something. He stepped out the door, and just stopped. Had you really been feeling like this? Had you actually felt like he hated you? But there was no denying that everything you just said was true. He felt so bad about how he had treated you. He would make this up to you. That’s what he decided and that’s what he would do.
#bnha#bnha scenarios#bnha imagines#boku no hero academia#mha#my hero academia#todoroki shouto#endeavour#todoroki enji
271 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
splatoonusna
Splatoon North America
teal-fiend
teeth
necro-romantic
Ol’ Snot Eye Alex
toastycursedcats
Cursed Cats
turrko
turko