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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years ago

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Day 16: Prinxiety

@tsshipmonth2020

Heeey, look at that, I’m behind! Day 16: When your soulmate listens to music, you hear it in your own head as well.

Content warnings: assumed death of a soulmate (he’s not dead), depression, general sad vibes.

Word count: 2.6k

Note: the songs referenced in this fic are IDK You Yet by Alexander 23 and Love is Gone by SLANDER. Both of these songs make me cry and were the inspiration for this.

It was at midnight on December 19th when Roman’s soulmark first appeared. He didn’t realize this until 1am.

Granted, he didn’t know it was his soulmark for the first hour.

At first, the almost imperceptible steady beat in his head just seemed like a song that had gotten stuck in there. He didn’t remember ever hearing the song, but it wasn’t unlikely that he’d heard the tune at the store or on the radio and it unconsciously ingrained itself into his memory. He was working on an assignment that was due in the morning, a script analysis for one of his Theatre courses, and had begun to bop his head along to the music when his roommate walked in, eyes bleary and arms laden with books.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” He asked through a yawn, dropping the books on his desk and flopping into the bottom bunk.

“I could ask you the same question, Pat,” Roman hummed, completing his conclusion paragraph with a dramatic flair of his hands. “Just finished my paper. Going now.”

“Lost track of time at the library,” Patton murmured in response, draping his arms over his eyes.

Closing his computer, Roman popped his back and climbed up the small ladder into the top bunk, using his cellphone as a flashlight. He assumed Patton was already fast asleep (the man could fall asleep at the drop of a hat) and tried to follow suit, only to sit up in annoyance after several minutes.

Whatever song was stuck in his head was keeping him up.

He remembered a tip he’d seen on the internet once, that said if you sing the last part of the song, it’s easier to get out of your head. Something about ‘your brain needing to complete it to be satisfied’ or whatever. As hard as he focused, though, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what song it was, much less the ending.

The more he concentrated on it, the louder it seemed to get, until it was no longer a hum of bass in the back of his skull, and he could make out the lyrics, the guitar solos, everything. He definitely hadn’t heard this song before. It wasn’t the kind you’d hear playing in public; it was loud, swears thrown in every chorus, just generally the kind of thing you’d hear in a Hot Topic but nowhere else.

And then it stopped.

For a split second he was pleased, thanking his brain for finally shutting off, and conceded to lie back down. He might be able to get six hours of sleep at this rate. Pretty good, for a college student.

Except as soon as he closed his eyes, another song started. It was another one he didn’t know, one he would have no way of knowing each word to. The realization hit him hard and his eyes shot open, nearly falling off the ladder in his haste to climb down.

“Roman? Everything okay?” Patton drawled, clearly having been woken up by Roman’s enthusiasm.

“My soulbond!”

“What?!” That got his attention and he jerked up, narrowly missing whacking his head on the top bunk.

“The music in my head all night, it’s my soulmate! It must be his birthday!”

He was pulling up music on his laptop before he’d even processed it, hands freezing over the keyboard as his brain grasped for something to play. What could he play that would properly introduce himself to his soulmate? A show tune? Something from the 80s? But his mind had gone completely blank, and he couldn’t think of a single one.

“What do I play, Pat?” He gasped, tapping the mousepad in time with the upbeat tempo in his head.

Patton was suddenly leaning over his shoulder, clacking a name into the search bar before pressing enter. Roman narrowed his eyes

“Why that one?”

Patton shrugged, “It’s kind of cheesy romantic, like you. And the first line is fitting.”

“A valid point,” Roman announced, closing his eyes to listen for a pause as the music switched. The second the song ended, he slammed the space bar, begging it to play before the next one started.

How can you miss someone you’ve never met?

Because I need you now but I don’t know you yet,

But can you find me soon, because I’m in my head,

Yeah, I need you now but I don't know you yet.

A little more depressing than he initially would have chosen, but he could see Patton’s point. The music on the other end had been paused and he smiled in accomplishment, knowing that he must have heard. He let the song play to the end of the first chorus before pausing it, waiting with his roommate with baited breath.

The silence was almost unbearably long, Patton watching him intently for some kind of indication that the music was back.

Hello,

It’s me.

Adele’s soothing melody filled his mind and he absolutely wheezed with laughter. Patton grinned and let him explain through gasps for air, and he let out a giggle in response.

“Okay,” Roman snorted, “What next?”

Patton passed out probably an hour later after helping Roman pick out songs that would adequately encompass him as a person, but the theatre student didn’t sleep last night. Eventually him and his soulmate found a nice rhythm, each playing a song in turn. It didn’t take long for him to assume that his soulmate was emo (a fact that had him blushing furiously), simply due to the overwhelming amount of My Chemical Romance and Green Day played in his head, and he figured it was probably pretty obvious that he was a theatre kid. The second song he played was from Heathers, afterall.

When his eyes finally started drooping too much to ignore, he knew he had to end this soon. The soulmate’s song ended and he quickly pulled up the first thing he’d thought of, a children’s lullaby, trying to indicate that he had to sleep.

There was quiet on the other end when the song ended, before the beginning trills of Baby Shark started playing and he groaned, quickly muffling the sound with his hand so as to not wake his roommate. He didn’t let it play past one verse, thank Olympus, and then his mind was quiet for the first time in many hours. It seemed like a mutual agreement that ‘now is sleep time’, and Roman went to sleep with a smile on his face.

Their new norm was quickly established in the following weeks. It became obvious almost right away that playing their music at the same time was cacophonous and only caused headaches, so they eventually settled on switching days. Every second morning, Roman would wake up to his alarm and quickly start his morning playlist, a set of rousing, uplifting, exciting songs to get his blood flowing for the day. It was his day to choose the music, so he’d set his walking playlist for class and his study one for the evenings, sometimes playing an adventure podcast or something to spice things up. The other days, he’d be woken by the soft notes of melancholy tunes, starting the day slowly. As the morning progressed, usually by the time he was eating breakfast, the tone would change to something a little more fast paced, as if his soulmate needed to warm up before getting to the main act. As much as the music wasn’t his style, he found himself keeping pace to the beat with his steps, bopping his head along to the melody, humming a harmony to the more commonly played ones. Just knowing that this was his soulmate made it better.

And then, one day… the music stopped.

He’d woken up around noon, not a big deal since he didn’t have classes until after lunch anyways, but he knew for a fact that his soulmate was always up by 10, latest. Whether the other had classes or a job that kept his schedule, he didn’t know. It was an oddity for sure that there was no alarm.

He put it off to the other probably having a sick day, or a free schedule, and he was sleeping in for once. The worry only started creeping in near the evening, when usually at this time, the music would start slowing down again as the sun set. There hadn’t been a peep all day, which was very unlike either of them. Even though the silence bothered him, he wouldn’t dare intrude on the other’s day, so he studied and ate dinner in silence, tapping his pencil against the table. Of course, he put it off to a one day fluke.

Except, two days after, when it should have been his soulmate’s turn again, there was no music. And the time after that. And the one after that. It was almost two weeks of radio silence on the other end before he called Patton through broken sobs, pleading for him to stop studying and come back to the dorm. Obviously, he made the ten minute walk in five.

And then Roman admitted the way his anxieties had been spiralling.

“What if- What if our soulbond broke? Did the universe realize we were a mistake? Or… or what if he died?! What if he’s hurt or dying or alone and I’m just-”

Patton shushed him gently, rubbing his back as Roman hiccuped into his shoulder. “When did this start?”

“Two- two weeks ago.”

“Then isn’t it possible that he just isn’t listening to music for a little while? Maybe he’s… somewhere without wifi. Or his phone broke.”

Even though he very much didn’t believe a word Patton was saying, he nodded along messily, clutching Patton’s shirt tighter. He eventually agreed to give him more time, hold on just a little longer, before completely giving up.

It took about a month before he did, and it didn’t get better from there.

Their consistency had been their norm for almost nine months, over summer break and now into the new school year, and now it was torn away without warning. Roman refused to listen to music on days that weren’t his, even though Patton tried to tell him it was okay, but he wouldn’t. It didn’t feel right. He mourned his soulmate the same way he would mourn a close friend’s death, for he truly believed he was gone for good. The person he’d barely gotten to understand, much less meet, and he was just… gone. He was going to live the rest of his life without a soulmate.

Most nights he just did the bare basics of the homework he had to do, without any of the old flair he’d put into all his work, and curled onto his bed to watch a show or, on his days, listen to music. His old playlists had shifted to the bottom of his rotation, now only bringing sadder memories that Patton had insisted he not indulge in at this point, so it was usually just automated lists he found. Nothing was special about them anymore.

Today was his day, an uneventful Saturday where the most exciting occurrence was Patton convincing him to come to the cafeteria and eat with other people. It had been tiring and only made him feel more alone, so his daily scheduled moping times had come up a little earlier. Patton had given him a hug and a gentle kiss on the head, telling him he had to go meet some people for a group project, and to call if he needed anything, before grabbing his bag and leaving. Roman didn’t miss the sad look tossed his way before the door shut.

Despite Patton’s advice, he was feeling particularly shitty today, and his fingers, seemingly with a mind of their own, pulled up one of his older playlists. One of the ones that was reminiscent of days when he actually had a soulmate. He clicked shuffle and tossed the phone onto the pillow next to his head, curling that much deeper into his blankets, as if he could somehow refill the void that had been cut out of him.

How can you miss someone you’ve never met?

Because I need you now but I don’t know you yet,

But can you find me soon, because I’m in my head,

Yeah, I need you now but I don't know you yet.

The first song he’d ever played had become a sort of inside joke between them. Despite the song’s sad melody and somber lyrics, it was a reminder of the first time they’d interacted; an awkward, laughter filled night. At least, it had been on Roman’s night, and he could only hope it had been the same on the other end.

He didn’t even realize he was crying until the pillow beneath him was tear stained and gross to lay on. Why had the universe chosen him as the target for its cruel irony? Not that he wished this on anyone else… but why couldn’t soulmates be foolproof? Why was there that margin for error, the always-there possibility that everything you’ve ever dreamed of will be ripped out of your hands just as soon as you think you have it? So close, but so far. At least before they’d connected, he’d lived in blissful hope and ignorance.

The song ended and he pressed pause lethargically, not able to find the emotional strength to listen to more. Maybe Patton had been right. A glance out the window showed that it was well past nightfall, the full moon gleaming into his window, and he decided to just sleep the emptiness away. It hadn’t worked so far, but maybe tonight was the night. He turned off his phone screen and plugged it in to charge, rolling away to face the wall, and waited for the soothing peace of sleep to take over him.

At first, he thought it was just a hallucination, wishful thinking. More than once in the three months since his soulmate disappeared, he’d thought he’d heard music, only for the feeling to disappear as soon as he focused on it. A soulbond only became louder when concentrated on, so he eventually realized he was doing it to himself subconsciously, his mind struggling to fill the emptiness that had once been filled by the other’s music.

When it disappeared, he figured it was music from someone else’s dorm filtering through the thin walls. But no, this was too clear, too distinct, too ingrained, to be coming from an external source.

He calmed his racing heart before he could jump to conclusions. This music isn’t like what his used to be. It must be your brain, because he’s gone. He’s GONE, Roman.

Much as he tried to push it down, he couldn’t. It was becoming evident that no, something was happening, and it had to do with his soulmate. As he had done for the time he’d known (could it be considered ‘knowing’) the other, he concentrated on the lyrics, because those were the only feeble ways they’d interacted in those times.

I’m sorry,

Don’t leave me,

I want you here with me,

I know that your love is gone.

I can’t breathe,

I’m so weak,

I know this isn’t easy,

Don’t tell me that your love is gone,

That your love is gone.

Patton walked in after his group meeting to see Roman sobbing in his bed and, immediately assuming the worst, he jumped onto the bed and pulled him into his arms. Through gasps for breath, Roman was able to choke out that, “He’s back. He’s playing music. He’s back. He’s back.”

Part 2 HERE

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #sanderssides #sanders sides #prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #sad tw #depression tw #ts soulmate au #sanders sides fanfiction #sanderssidesfanfiction

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a-mended-pact · 3 years ago

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Smut blurb about meeting Spencer on a dating app that Derek set up for him.

Hi! Thank you so much for the request you are my very first one! This was such an honor to do. I am still learning on doing smut so I hope this satisfy you just enough until I become more comfortable in my smut skills. It was a pleasure

I can't believe I allowed my best friend to do this to me. Setting me up on a blind date of all things. A relationship was the furthest thing I wanted from my mind.

Having just gotten out of a bad one a couple of months ago. This was going to be god awful. I know you are supposed to dress up for these things but I couldn't bring myself to. No fancy clothing. No elegant designs. Just a tight shirt and dark jeans accompanied with boots.

All I knew about my date from my friend was that he was a Doctor/Fbi agent and a professor. A small laugh escaped me as I glanced at myself in the mirror before I left to meet this catfish. Clearly someone was lying.

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

When I arrived at the restaurant later then originally planned. Stupid subway. Walking inside I spoke to the host. 'Hi, um party of two for Reid. Hopefully he is already here.' The nervousness finally getting to me.

As the host walked me to the booth I could see what I hoped to only be Doctor Spencer Reid. His hair was fuffy and unruly. It looked so utterly soft all I wanted to do was run my hands through it.

What the hell? Y/N control yourself! You can't just randomly start wanting to touch someone you don't know because he looks pretty. I thought to myself. My inner turmoil starting to get the better of me.

Sitting down across from him he finally acknowledged me. A small blush on his face as he scratched the back of his neck.

'Hi, um sorry I don't normally do this sort of thing.'he rushed out in a hurry. 'Someone I am deeply upset with right now set this blind date up for me and I was only told about it today. Apparently I have a tinder account? I have no idea what that really is besides a dating app that pairs people up through and algorit-'

He stopped himself suddenly when I assumed he realized he was continously talking.

A small nervous laugh escaped him.

'I'm sorry I talk a lot when I'm nervous. My name is Dr. Spencer Reid. You can just call me Spencer. '

That was when I saw him finally look me in the eyes this whole time. I felt my heart flutter as I finally got a good look at them. He truly had gold in the middle of his dark eyes. Oh boy I could get lost in them forever.

I'm not sure how long I was staring but by the time the waitress came around. I didn't have any idea what I wanted. All I noticed was how he kept my eye contact and replied to the waitress that we'd both just have a water for now.

'You're staring.' He looked down awkwardly and blushed. I haven't even spoken a word yet and I'm already ruining this date. Crap.

A random gasps escaped me as I myself started speaking for the first time. I hope I don't run him off with what's about to spew out of my mouth.

'Did you know that the reason babies stare is because they can't understand the concept of beauty yet? So basically when an adult stares to long they are staring because you trigger a chemical in their brain that starts their hormones and oh God I'm gonna stop. '

I covered my mouth quickly to keep myself silent.

I saw his eyes light up in amusement and laughter escape him.

Oh no what had I done.

'Yes I did know that In fact. Are you telling me you find me attractive.' His voice trailed off. Coming to my senses I realized I had never told him my name!.

'Oh god I'm an idiot. I never told you my name. It's Y/N.' Another smile escaped him.

'I have to ask are you really all those things your profile said? I personally hadn't actually seen your profile. Like you my friend set this up for me without my knowledge.'

'Yes, I am in fact a Fbi agent. I'm a profiler for the Bau. I study serial killers in order to catch them. Is the simplest way to put it. I am also a professor on my time off teaching students how to track down serial killers or at least the cause of why they exist.'

My eyes widened in surprise as he watched my face.

A smile formed on my features. This was going to be a fun date.

---------

I was right to assume it would be one. What I didn't expect was for us to click once the awkwardness was out of the way. Discussing mine and his love for literature and science was a lot more fun then people might think.

Currently he was in my apartment and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to kiss him. The date had went along pretty well. Him being the gentleman I noticed he was ordered for me in my panic. I'm a very indecisive person so I was beyond thankful.

I could tell he was just as attracted to me with the way his pupils had expanded during our date. I knew the science I knew I had a chance. I just couldn't bring myself to make a move.

I think he caught me staring at his lips because in that moment he leaned forward glancing down at mine.

'Please, make the first move.'

A smile formed on his lips as he cupped the side of my face and pulled my face to his kissing me softly.

I thought I would melt into him by just the feeling of his lips on mine. Before he could break the kiss I found myself clawing gently at his neck and deepening the kiss. I pulled myself onto him straddling his lap. Him leaning himself back against the couch as he looked up at me.

'Are you sure? We barley just met.'

'God yes. I am sure. I am clean. I haven't had sex in months' I started kissing and nibbling up his neck making him moan and clutch at my thighs.

'I would love to show you the science of the relief sex gives to a federal agent that most certainly works to hard for his own good.' My hands running up his chest.

'Then show me.'

Those were the last words I remember him saying before I ended up on my back sore as I had ever been. I was still a whimpering mess from all the things he showed me.

I glanced over at him. I really didn't show him anything.

This man took me to heaven and back. I didn't show him shit. He showed me a whole new world.

Perhaps we should both thank our friends for meddling in our lives.

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer x reader #spencer x you #spencer x y/n #Yuki's babbles

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anxiouslyfred · 4 years ago

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Blackberry Delivery Service

Summary: Where soulmates get plants that reflect what is done to each of them at unpredictable time of their lives, schools teach it’s about maturity. Virgil has known this is wrong since he got his plant at the young age of 8.

Remus never learns this before the night everything goes wrong gets followed by a day out of Roman’s daydreams.

/\/\

Nobody had figured out yet how the delivery service worked. There were classes in schools covering the history of soulmates and the plants connected to them which could go over how when people roamed the lands or lived in small villages and tribes they'd be drawn to the plants when they were ready for it. That still happened in a lot of the indigenous cultures, where spending time among nature was a larger part of their way of life.

For the people in cities though a delivery service had opened with the advent of a postal service. When a person became ready to care for their plant it would be delivered at a time they were alone at home and then the van would disappear for somewhere else. No base was known of for the Soulmate plants delivery, nor any greenhouses and plenty of legends surrounded the vans but nothing could get confirmed.

Virgil had read everything he could about them regardless. Originally it was dreaming that he'd get his plant one day and learn how he can find his soulmate with it. Receiving it when he was just 8 years old had grown the interest into the reasons people claimed they got their plants.

What schools taught was that if you are mature enough to care for someone, or something, living other than yourself and put their needs on the same level as your own then the plant would be delivered. The forums and multitudes of orphanages and care homes gave out different lessons, leaflets filled with personal stories about people getting their plant so they had something to look forward to, a reassurance there was somebody out their for them.

That was why Virgil received his plant. His parents had busy jobs and rarely spared a thought for their son, so long as he was fed, clean and his clothes were the good quality expected of reasonably wealthy parents. He'd gotten lonely and used to being ignored, or a second thought to everyone but the blackberry bust he received was a promise that wouldn't continue forever.

And that was how he continued on, looking after the plant and trying its best to help it grow. The thorns were longer than a normal blackberry bush and grew in a higher number but the berries were a wonderful balanced of sweet and tangy. It was soon Virgil's favourite treat, as long as the berries came from his soulmate plant. If only he could tell his soulmate was looking after theirs as well, but nothing changed except what Virgil did to the plant.

/Years Later for Remus\

It had taken far too long for Remus to save up the money for his own flat. Still, 10 times fired is 20 people he knows can't accept who he is, and he could finally move out from Roman's apartment.

He'd thought there could be a celebration, him and his brother having a game night or something to mark the achievement. Sure Remus would have liked to do more than that, go to a bar, or maybe bowling and see how many innuendos and dirty jokes he could make around it, but with Roman back in rehearsals a night in, getting him settled into the flat would have been nice.

Instead they argued, Remus hurt over the dismissal Roman gave. “I can't just fritter away hours with you. This could be a big break for me if it gets the presses attention so I have to be responsible for my time.”

“It's one night, Ro. One night to get that stick out of your arse, loosen up and just be silly again. Fuck, we could find an adventure on a hike and play dragons and princes again like we used to. Toast the fact I'm making it on my own now.” Remus had pleaded, just needing something to mark the change.

“Yeah and then in a month, possibly two, you'll be asking for an adventure or night out to celebrate you moving straight back in.” Roman scoffed, dismissing the idea and Remus's long standing dream of independence in one sentence.

Remus had slammed the door to his flat open then. He'd made the offer when they finished moving all his stuff over to the apartment and there was something darkly satisfying that he could now actually kick Roman out now. “Fuck you, Get the hell out of here! You've watched how fucking hard I've worked to get this and now you think I'm going to throw it all away for what?” He made no attempt to keep his voice down, too hurt and angry to care.

“Yeah, cause you're so mature. You haven't even received a plant to look after yet.” Roman had started to protest but as soon as Remus's missing plant was mentioned he was getting manhandled out of the door.

“I'm blocking you everywhere. I fucking trusted you!” Remus screamed, throwing cushions from the sofa at the door as soon as he'd slammed it shut, locking it behind Roman.

Remus had tried. He'd done everything he could think of to be mature enough to get that soulmate plant, but it still hadn't been delivered. Every day he hoped that perhaps finally it would come; that whatever spirits created and delivered the plants would finally realise he was ready for the soulmate plant.

He'd even kept a garden on the balcony at Roman's house. That was Remus's space and he'd kept it alive, thriving even. Every plant he'd had there had now found a place on window sills around the apartment, as specified to their requirements as Remus could manage.

For Roman to have thrown his missing soulmate plant back at him was too far, and his brother should have known that. It had turned the first night in his apartment which Remus had been so excited to finally afford from being a celebration to one of near destruction.

Remus had agreed with fix and redecorate the apartment for a reduced rent so he decided to move the screaming in his brain to chipping the cracked tiling away from the walls of the bathroom. The landlord had offered it when learning he was a joiner after his most recent building course. With every strike he wished it was a stem he could yank away from Roman's lavender bush, make him realise just how it felt to be missing something everyone insisted was important.

Mud, plants and carpentry could only get Remus so far until he was collapsing onto his new bed, and the tears came.

A new home, but an even lonelier life than before now he couldn't face the last person to try and stick with him again.

/A New Day Comes\

Remus thought the knock on his door must be Roman, trying to apologise or just explain himself. There were always more explanations from Roman than spoken apologies. The apology was shown in his behaviour and the time he cut himself off.

He definitely didn't expect the knock to be a blackberry bush and a van driving out of sight.

An apartment with no balcony or attached garden was probably the worst possible place Remus could try to grow blackberries, but he didn't have much choice, not over what his soulmate plant was, or where it could grow. There was at least a large window in his bedroom that he could find space for it in.

Remus gave it a small smile as he carried it through, leaving it at the foot of his bed for a moment. “Well I guess you were finally ready to come to me then. You just wait here while I shift some of your new friends around to give you a nice spot to rest in.” He says, stroking the leaves lightly before turning away.

“This isn't the ideal space for you, I know, but it's what I have and what's mine is yours, Buddy. Well for you and all my other plant friends of course. I don't care if your connected to my soulmate, these guys get all my love just as much as you do.” Remus was rambling, still mostly talking to the blackberry bush but nuzzling into the other plants he had as they were moved, some closer together and a couple taken to one of the other windowsills.

“I'm no more mature than I was yesterday so it seems like the teachers were just saying more bullshit to us all. Wonder why you're actually here though. Unless it's because I'm completely alone in the world now, and this is all just a complete scam. What makes me being completely alone the trigger when Roman got his years ago after a night moping that he's never be someone's hero?” They'd still been living with their parents when that happened, but now Remus was focused on being lied to by schools.

He shook his head, moving the bush to the new spot. “Maybe I should have tried mixing those chemicals in science labs given everything else they've lied over. I bet it wouldn't have caused anything fun to happen anyway. Now Buddy, you need a frame or some support to hook onto and then I want to start checking online if there are any people around caring for blackberry bushes. If my soulmate already has you then I'm gonna be telling them off for not caring for you properly. Lack of gardening knowledge does not mean you're unable to research a singular plant.”

Remus fell to humming as he started rooting through the boxes that hadn't yet been unpacked for his gardening supplies. He'd need to trim the bush a bit and get it tied onto a frame. There was plenty of time before he had work to get that done.

/Over to Virgil\

After growing up with his blackberry bush, Virgil never expected anything to change with it. He wasn't sure if that was because his soulmate was content to let him look after it or if they just hadn't received their plant yet.

This morning was proving they probably hadn't received it until now and were very knowledgable about how to look after their plants. Virgil had watched as the canes were cut, thorns trimmed away in the busier areas of the bush and then as a frame appeared in the pot, stalks being tied to it from the bottom upwards.

It had been a relaxing if confusing scene to watch but Virgil hadn't wanted to look away. There was evidence he had a soulmate and apparently one who's a very avid gardener.

Part of him wanted to cheer, to dance around his home screaming for joy. He had a soulmate out there, and now their plants were more identifiable than the wild growth that was all Virgil understood enough to achieve. There was a chance he could one day find someone who wouldn't just be talking to him for his family name, or in the hopes of getting a higher role in his mother's business.

It just made Virgil want to go out and start actually trying to find whomever they were, but what if they were annoyed that he hadn't taken better care of their plant? What if they had their life all put together and only cared about the plant because soulmates were meant to be important to them and he'd just disappoint them?

There were hundreds of what if questions that Virgil was now coming up with, stilling his hands as he went to search the 'match my plant' websites there were.

Instead he just double checked his Blackberry bush was watered enough and drew a V in the soil, washing his hands before finally heading into the restaurant his parents wanted checking on today. They'd decided Virgil should have a role as site inspector for the restaurants while they were refurbished or put together for a new site opening at some point and Virgil didn't mind the role. It gave him the chance to meet normal people in the builders, electricians and other skilled jobs as well as avoid special treatment from the restaurants staff since most of the time they'd never meet him officially.

Today the site was having fitted counters installed as well as the tables secured for the private booths. Virgil would really just be checking everything looked right and hoping to avoid chatting to the joiner for too long.

“Hey there, Are you the boss man for the site?” There was a man in fluorescent overalls trying to peer through the windows of the restaurant, knocking on them as Virgil walked up to it.

Most of the builders had been given the morning off so they didn't get in the way but the actions of the man had Virgil checking the time and realising he'd set off late after watching his plant get looked after. “Yep, that's me. Sorry I ran a little late. It seems like my soulmate has gotten their plant and was doing a lot of gardening for it this morning. I got distracted watching it.” The explanation was far more than the joiner needed to know, but it felt deserved given Virgil was late.

“Cool thing, Patches. I got mine this morning too. Must be a busy day for the delivery guys. You planning on letting us in or should I break a window and replace it on my way out?” The man had walked back to the van that was parked on the pavement in front of the restaurant as he spoke, but leaned back to wink at Virgil when he suggested the vandalism.

Virgil shook his head, snorting a little at the idea. It didn't seem serious so he wasn't going to treat it as such. “First, I'm gonna need to see some ID, preferably your traders license. Can't just trust people who ask if I run the building without introducing themselves at all.” He did pull the keys out of his pocket though, waiting beside the door as the other bounced back over.

“Well, I'm Remus, here's my card, call me whenever for whatever cause a body like yours I ain't gonna refuse.” Remus definitely checked Virgil out as he spoke but still handed over his license, a business card behind it that Virgil pocketed.

Unlocking the door, he shook his head again. “I'm Virgil and will need to call the company doing the rest of this place to complain about the state they've left it in. Sorry it seems to be chaos. I did order them to leave it clear yesterday but apparently my instructions were ignored.”

Remus didn't seem to care, already carrying various boards and his toolkit, just making large steps over any equipment or items left in his way. “I got a blackberry bush this morning. You said you thought your soulmate had got theirs today too so what's yours?”

“Oh, yeah, same. It's blackberries too. I've been scared that I'll hurt it if I do anything though so have mostly left it to grow its own way once I got a mini greenhouse to look after it in.” Virgil agreed, pulling his phone out, and falling into mumbles over how to make the call.

It was only moments later when Virgil looked up to actually double check the number, ever doubting his phone had saved it correctly, that he realised Remus had frozen and started watching him, large siding board still balanced on his shoulder. “Did I say something wrong? Is there something I need to raise as a big issue to like health and safety that I've missed?” He asked.

Remus bounced between his feet for a moment, almost falling before he remembered the siding and leant it against the wall. “No Dude, but like, does your plant look something like this now?” He pulled his phone out while speaking, flicking through a few screens before showing a picture of Virgil's blackberry bush, except it was surrounded by dozens of other plants on a windowsill that was in dire need of fresh paint and probably new frames all together.

“That's – That is my plant! Even down to the frame that appeared!” Virgil exclaimed, almost snatching the phone away to look closer at the picture. “I watched everything getting trimmed and tied onto the frame this morning.” He muttered, all thoughts of scolding the builders leaving his mind in the moment.

“So you're my soulmate then?” Remus asked after a minute of waiting for that connection to be made.

Virgil didn't think his eyes could get any wider or that he could be any more shocked than he already was, but that sentence would have managed it. “Well, must be, this is my plant so yeah.” He nodded frantically through the explanation.

He was a bit confused when Remus's expression darkened to a scowl. “This entire soulmate thing is fucked up. Nothing against you but is this stupid damnable universe telling me I had to go through losing or falling out with everyone I know only to get my plant and meet my soulmate on the same fucking day? It's ridiculous and stupid. If it wanted to pull this fairytale bullshit with anyone it should have been with Roman. This feels like he's fucking writing the story of my day just to spite me after throwing everything I've been trying to do back in my face yesterday.” The rant had Virgil backing away a little, sitting down on one of the benches as Remus carried on.

“I did every fucking thing I could to be whatever stupid ideal of mature this world wants before letting people have their plants for years! I scraped through course after course, job after job just trying to find one which I could make a career out of, earn enough to get even a ratty apartment I need to fix up for the landlord and then have the universe fucking telling me to speed run the entire process. Not just, hey Remus, you can finally have the soulmate plant to look after since you've been looking after your hundred plant babies so well, but hey Remus, you brother is a fucking bastard so you're all alone but here's a plant and hey, here's your entire fucking soulmate too.” Remus was screaming at the walls, the ceiling, anywhere that wasn't Virgil, looking like he was two steps from destroying the next thing he looked at closer to ground level.

Virgil usually felt panicked by watching displays of anger like this in real people. He'd usually do everything he can to get out of that situation but instead he just listened and waited, learning more from the rant than he'd expected to.

The yelling must have been audible from outside or something because there was soon a knock on the window of the restaurant, although Remus didn't seem to hear it. He did notice when Virgil stood though, falling quiet to watch him as though expecting him to say something.

With a gesture to the door Virgil went to open it, only to blink as someone almost identical to Remus stood on the opposite side, holding what he guessed might have been a peppermint plant. “Hi, um, sorry if I can't do this, but Remus hasn't been answering my calls and had mentioned doing some work here today. Is he still around?” The man asked, shifting to try and see further into the store.

“Who are you, first? And what's with the plant?” Virgil held a hand up to keep them outside, raising an eyebrow at their discomfort.

“His brother, Roman. I said something I really shouldn't have and have come to beg for forgiveness. The plant is part of my apology.” With that explanation, especially following the rant he'd just heard Virgil held one finger up before shutting the door in his face.

Remus seemed to have started getting his work tools out now his rant had been cut off when Virgil sat down again. “So that was some rant you had there and given I've had my blackberry bush since I was 8, I might be able to explain what actually seems to be the time the plants come to us. Before that though, are you going to start screaming again if I say there's someone at the door holding a plant and asking if you're here so they can beg for forgiveness?” He explained, watching as Remus turned to him and then deflated.

“He literally said I wouldn't last more than a couple months in my new apartment before having to live with him again, threw the fact I hadn't got my plant yet in my face last night and is now trying to apologise with a fucking plant?” Remus muttered, but sighed as he stood up.

Roman was let in silently and he seemed to watch Remus as if expecting something to be said first. Remus was watching his brother just as carefully, before glancing over to Virgil.

“Seriously. Are we sure the universe hasn't stolen one of Roman's stories and decided to dump me into it?” He asked, taking the peppermint from Roman and placing it in front of the window.

“I have literally known Roman for all of 2 seconds so have no clue what those stories might be like to say.” Virgil pointed out, knowing his expression was probably reflecting how crazy he found the question to be.

Remus rolled his eye, “I see no prostrating yourself on the floor to beg for forgiveness. This apology so far sucks worse than Mrs PeePee's apple sorbet.” He glanced over to Roman who was looking between them confused.

“Yes, of course dear Brother, except there isn't exactly space on the floor for that to be possible. I spoke entirely out of turn yesterday and should have never even considered speaking to you the way I have done. You have my deepest apologies and I swear that I will do everything I can to help make it up to you. In fact I would be honoured if tonight you'd accompany to the indoor mini golf course that's opening on the edge of town. It's rainforest themed and I hear rumours they've included a swamp area.” Roman bowed as he was speaking, actually glancing around to see if it was safe for him to kneel.

Virgil couldn't help snickering at it though, and Remus was soon to join in the laughter. “Let's all go actually. I need to know if this idiot is entertaining beyond cheap jokes and loud rants to tell the universe off.” Virgil agreed, before glancing at the sideboard and the time. There was still a couple of hours before the rest of the builders should arrive, hopefully enough time for Remus to do some of the work he was actually here for.

“Sure, you're forgiven and I think the universe has done pretty much everything I would have asked you to do or try to do already.” Remus agreed, jumping over a few things back to where he would be fitting the counters. “By the way, this is my soulmate and I got a blackberry bush this morning. Only figured that it was the same as his like 10 minutes before you got here.”

“Was that what the screaming was about? I thought someone was injured?” Roman asked, moving to the bench when Virgil shrugged and patted it.

Virgil snorted. “Yeah, Remus has a few things to say to whatever does soulmates about how today has gone for him. Not sure the universe listens to people screaming in restaurants-to-be though.”

Eventually Virgil would get Roman to share one of the stories Remus had kept referencing and had to agree: The day they met really did seem to come out of Roman's imagination.

#dukexiety #soulmate au #virgil sanders #remus sanders #creativitwins #roman sanders

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imnotwolverine · 4 years ago

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Happy New Year, and hello 1000 followers!!

Hello dear readers! Welcome in my writing nook, and welcome in 2021 - FINALLY!!

2020′s been a long year. A sad year. A year that felt like March for 9 months straight. A year that left a little dent in my corner of the couch as I was huddled away, writing in the most awkward positions because my cats tried to get on my lap alongside my laptop (it doesn’t fit - trust me, kitties).

But, it was also a fun year; I could spend long hours reading and writing to my heart’s content. Meeting new people, and discovering kinks and fantasies I never knew were even a thing. To that; thank you my fellow horny bitches, you gave me the perseverance to work on getting proper orgasms, buying a sex toy and making my boyfriend very confused about what-the-hell was going on with me. (thankfully the shock is now gone and he’s enjoying this new horny me far too much 😂)

In more fun news; I just noticed my once small reader tribe has crossed the 1000 follower-mark (WHAT?! HOW?! YOU GUYS AND GALS ARE AMAZING -- *bounces off the walls*)

I don’t really know how to thank you all for your love and support in reaching this unique milestone. But to those who are just crazy about reading, let me share with you something from my vault of short stories - a little side project next to this blog, to practise my writing ❤️

The Keeper

This new world order was hardly orderly.

It was dusty chaos, filtering in through the sole newspaper-covered window above the door that had just veered at the return of the Old Man, his persistent coughs making that same dust curl and swirl through the air.

Feeling my old bones crack, I took a moment, stretching out on my paper throne of Descartes’ body of work, before I jumped aside so he could add his new-found treasures to this grand collection of paper-bound napping nooks.

It was a good new stack. Six thick covers, the pages yellowed and musky in smell. Perfection, really. Old, gold, glorious perfection. But the Old Man didn’t seem to share my sentiment; his leathery face was wrinkled with concern, heavy brows furrowing like a thick hairy caterpillar above his gentle eyes.

Finding a new spot I swished my long tail, more dust swirling up in the single streak of light that caressed the silhouette of the Old Man.

I hadn’t seen him this worried since we met all those long years ago, his warm hands taking me to this dusty good place that I called my home. Our home. A home that oozed old world magic; thousands of books all lined up in ceiling-high cabinets, their vastness somewhat resembling the sky-high buildings outside; that is however where the comparison stopped. This place was warm, kind, soothing. It smelled nice, felt nice, housed mice - my favourite.

Outside, the world was cold, white, wicked. It smelled of chemicals and disdain, the presence of nature and animals one not wished for in its green, disorganised beauty. But the Old Man had been different. Had been. Right now he moved with the same hasty manner the men outside did, his heavy feet moving daintily past the hastily stacked collections, the structure in them long gone.

The same had happened to the ever structured and unchanging man I once knew; The Old Man was looking older each day, which was strange for a being I thought immaculate and immortal. In my long years of life I had never truly ever seen any differences in this man, his wrinkles ever wrinkly and his eyes ever curious. But, these past few weeks I started having my doubts. I never liked change, but change was suddenly here in abundance. I could hear it on the nervous streets outside. I could feel it in my aching bones and the knits in my pelt. I could feel it in the lack of scratches I received, the Old Man suddenly more occupied with the world outside than in.

This new world order was a terrible thing indeed.

Stretching up my aching back, I curled my tail around my paws, watching as the man passed yet again, his eye catching mine for just a second, his feet slowing down so he could give me a long overdue sign of affection.

“Hello Minnie.” He said gently, his warm voice making my muscles tremble in delight, “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait yet a moment longer. Duty calls!” And with that he disappeared once more, the door hastily closed behind him as he moved back out into the streets that no longer had names.

Everything was changing and I didn’t like it one bit.

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away - or actually a few streets from here - I lived a perilous life of hunting, fighting, mating and waiting. You see: I was not made for the streets I lived in, the large neon lit signs up above too bright for my eyes and the food too sparse to feed the real hunger inside of me. The hunger that goes beyond the growling of the stomach; it was the hunger that gnawed at my brain and my heart as I watched dark figures pass by beneath their umbrellas, their eyes not directed at me, but at my much shinier counterparts on those sky-licking white screens.

e-Cat, e-Book, e-Love..e-Life. The words sparked with promise on beaming backgrounds, luring in the attention of the drifting souls down on the streets. Luring them in to look up, up and away from the truth that could be found right at their feet. A truth that once, an age or so ago, was so very normal.

It must have been a good time then. With ear-scratches and hugs and real talking; I had once even seen humans talk so close to another that their lips touched. And they seemed to find it very agreeable indeed, their lips curling in what the Old Man had explained to be smiles.

Smile (verb)

Form one's features into a pleased, kind, or amused expression, typically with the corners of the mouth turned up and the front teeth exposed.

Humans are peculiar beings.

Then, one day, someone looked down, not up. A man, a dreamer probably, his step shortly disrupted from his travels as our eyes met and, just like that, I was invited into his life, his shovel-sized hands picking me up and stuffing my scrawny bones beneath his warm jacket.

The Old Man.

“Why..I thought you had gotten rid of this?” A new voice entered the small haven of books, the door swiftly closed again. Their hushed voices made me blink open my eyes, a flickering light turned on to brush artificial light over the Old Man and the new person. A Young Woman.

She was pretty I think. Her hair cut just beneath her ears and her body wrapped in a large, fresh smelling jacket. I liked her smell. She smelled of my creatures, two males I think. And so with a little more curiosity I yawned and stretched, welcoming the two back in my domain.

“Hi there Minnie.” The Old Man wistfully scratched me behind the ear.

His voice sounded fragile as crystal, his eyes looking equally translucent as they shimmered in the low light of the single light bulb.

“OH..what am I to do, Dee? It’s just..” He turned back towards the woman, her eyes still looking in honest amazement at the huge collection of books stacked up high to the ceiling.

“Well..this is more than a ..little problem, Badger.” She looked back at him, teeth biting down onto her lip in thought. Humans sure had a weird way of expressing distress. Why didn’t she just hiss or growl? Furl up that pretty mane of her? - At least she got the eyes right.

With a quick flick of her large pupils she looked at me, then the books again.

“Alright. I’ll..I’ll see what we can do.” And with that she disappeared back out of the door, back into the mayhem of white light and clicking feet on cold pavement.

“Hahaha. Oh, aren’t you a happy little purr-machine?” His large hand stroked comfortably over my back, my legs stretching out a little further to give him extra length to touch and soothe.

“How about I read you something, hmm? Ever seen one of these?” He picked an object from one of the shelves, the thing foreign, but smelling of forests and sweat. I liked that smell.

“It’s a book. A very old, nearly extinct..book.” He shuffled a little in his seat, his hand scratching over my chin as he sensed my shock-surprise at being moved. And then he opened this so-called ‘book’, his deep voice sending warm vibrations through my body, my eyes closing slightly as I let him take me away to another world. A world with a thousand trees. And nymphs. And gods - which I think from his descriptions, are like humans but then ever older.

Every few minutes or so he would turn a page, a new whiff of smells entering my satisfied nostrils. I was warm, safe and quite content, my muscles vibrating along with the man’s words as he relieved the ache deep in my soul. I had never heard or smelled such words as his, but I liked them very much.

A loud crack burst open the door, that fierce white light burning my eyes as I quickly skedaddled, getting out of the line of sight of whatever horrific beasts were here to break into my sanctuary. Humans, their smells not to my liking. Too much rubber, plastic and other synthetic whiffs.

“Take him.” One spoke, the others following his curt instructions, the Old Man being mercilessly dragged from the corner where he trembled like a child, his large body not small enough to hide behind the books like I could.

It all happened so quickly that I wasn’t sure whether it had happened at all, the small room quiet and the dust settled before I dared to look again. I waited and waited. The night came and went, but the Old Man didn’t return. My hunger did though. The gnawing, aching emptiness made my bones clatter in their furry furbishments and I tried my best to understand the words the Angry Men had spoken.

“Incinerate elsewhere. Risk of attention. Incinerate elsewhere. Risk of attention.” The words had near eaten me alive when the dark door opened finally, the satisfying scent of two tomcats alerting me it was her. She was not happy though, my heart already aching for her before she could switch on the light, her tears muffled behind a pale hand.

“Oh gods.” She squirmed when the light bulb flickered on, her eyes roaming over a new trail that led over the floor, the smell reminding me of food..though I hadn’t found any, anywhere.

“Oh gods..Badger.” Her eyes started to rain, her lip trembling in pain as she cried out.

That is the moment when I crawled out of my hiding, my careful paws walking towards her until she noticed me, her lips curling up in what I learned was that good emotion. A smile. Though on her it looked a little weird - were there more types of smiles?

“Minnie.” She whispered, picking me up to cuddle until our short interaction was roughly disturbed by a sound outside. “Shit..Fuck..Okay we need to go.”

And, again, I found myself in the insides of a jacket. This time hers.

From the insides of the nice smelling jacket I heard a million voices spinning around us. Some human. Some metallic. Some whispering, some loud. My ears were folded flat against my skull by the time the world quieted again, the two of us landing on a mattress in a mal-furnished room; there were simply too few comfortable places to lay on, the mattress the only surface that was to my liking.

The Young Woman got up, her nose sniffling with the threat of more tears as she conjured up some food and water. Strange food and water. The type that was the standard these days. Tasteless. Shapeless. Soulless food. And disgustingly sterile water. Blergh.

But thankfully this new place brought me something good: the woman was more than eager to hug and cuddle, her body sinking down onto the mattress again so I could crawl up to her, her eye-water sinking into my fur as she held me close.

I wanted to speak to her then, and I did. I talked and talked and talked. But I’m not sure if she understood me. Why was all this water coming from her eyes? Was she the goddess of rain? I leaned in heavier into her warm chest and felt my muscles buzz with eagerness.

And then she found it. My greatest secret. The thing that the new world order was supposed to hate according to the Old Man.

Scratching my chin, I easily surrendered it to her, her fingers removing the small tube from my collar, unscrewing and finding two things: a miniscule piece of paper, reminding me of the smell of home, and some type of metal pill-tube-thing.

Silently she read the words, her lip trembling again with emotion, before they turned into a watery smile - happiness, love, good!

“Oh, I will..I will.” She mumbled.

Curiosity sparked in me and I spoke to her again, begging for her attention: “Please tell me what it reads!” -- And of course she couldn’t understand my words, but the sentiment was clear I think, for she now finally read it aloud:

“Code Minerva. Keeper of Wisdom. 112049 - Erase after uploading. Ps. she loves ear scratches.”

It was the day the new world order fell into true chaos.

I liked it very much.

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @mary-ann84 @darkbooksarwin @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @hell1129-blog @agniavateira @tillthelandslide @elinesama @aletheladyinred

#1000 followers #happy new year #and a different bit of fiction #no idea if anybody would want to read this #but here you go!#celebration time #yaay

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allandoflimbo · 4 years ago

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Take It Back (Chapter 26)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: About five years ago, a one night stand with Y/N tore Bucky’s life apart. It was also the night before his wedding. Now he’s married to her sister and she needs a place to stay.

Chapter Warnings: None.

Take It Back Full Masterpage |

Boys workin' on empty Is that the kind'a way to face the burning heat? I just think about my baby I'm so full of love I could barely eat

Paris, France

She was a sight to behold - a silver tweed dress that fell just above the knees, accompanied by black six-inch heels with red soles; Louboutins.

Her long hair cascaded down her exposed back as she threw her head back in a gorgeous sounding laugh that had all the men around ogling her.

She held a tight grip on the vanilla flavored champagne, the other hand holding onto the clutch that carried her spare euros and a MAC matte red lipstick.

A particular brunette man had his hand on her lower back as she reached over to put her glass down, his wide smile mimicking hers.

Where his black suit hugged his male-model physique, her tan legs ran for days passed the edges of her dress and into her shoes- toned and appearing worked out to perfection.

At least that’s what the envious woman around her thought. Especially little blonde Kelly Sanders who eyed her from across the banquet floor, in a Valentino and all.

Little did they - Kelly especially - know that she was genetically lucky. Not having to go a day to the gym, she’d been blessed with curves in the right spots, a decent speed metabolism, and imperfections that were constantly overlooked, but to Ashlyn were bluntly obvious.

Not that she wanted people to see her imperfections or for them to vocally state their awareness about it - she had enough of that to deal with from her nagging self because of her extremely low self-confidence - but, sometimes, she wondered if the love the people around her showed her was really genuine.

She knew Tony’s wasn’t.

The only genuine thing in her life right now was Bucky, and she was ruining it because she thought she had been doing them a favor. Anything that once had a potential to be good in her life had been jeopardized by her, and she had spent the last five years trying to make up for it.

She’d do anything for her husband.

When you had turned to her in the train that one day many years ago, and brought up Kelly and her boyfriend and how they had gotten engaged after only five months of dating, any doubt she had about moving too quickly with Bucky had left her mind.

There was no doubt in her mind that what she had with him was rare and true love.

When she had seen his perfect blue eyes for the first time and the way he had reached out to flick a snowflake off of her hair, she had been caught in a trance.

It was like something out of a movie and her heart had fluttered when he gave her that iconic smile.

The smile that would soon belong to the man she’d end up marrying.

She knew who he was when she met him, but she had lied and pretended like she didn’t know. She was afraid of coming clean after so many months, afraid that it would make it look like she did it out of using him, when the truth was that she didn’t want him to think that his reputation was why she wanted to be with him in the first place.

They had swapped numbers after their first encounter, and she fell in love with him after two weeks, and she was certain he felt the same way.

Even you saw it; that un-denying chemistry.

Bucky was sweet, he was kind, and he was everything she had been waiting for since her parents had died.

After their death, she had felt more alone than ever.

She had already faced bipolar and other emotional issues before their death, you (her little sister), seeming to be the only light in her life anymore.

She knew there was times where she felt like she did things that didn’t make sense, or say things that didn’t make any sense either.

She would most often than not, realize it too late, but she knew.

She did it because of herself. She felt worthless and she felt like she deserved every consequence that was handed her way. She didn’t know why- maybe it was whatever unbalanced chemicals that were being produced in her brain that made her feel a certain way about herself.

Since a child, she never really found her true herself or who she was.

She was never certain about her identity, to begin with.

She didn’t help her mother cook in the kitchen like you did, and she never fit into any clique at school. She’d ditch going out on Friday nights to instead help you with your homework or your hair and makeup so you could go out and meet your friends.

Her senior year she had ditched the cafeteria and resorted to eating her lunch in the bathroom stall, the loneliness and the fear of being alone forever engulfing her.

The echoes of the footsteps in the bathroom from her classmates as she chewed her peanut butter and jelly sandwich - swallowed down by a gulp of chocolate milk - were her lullabies.

Not too long after, she was diagnosed with bipolar and depression by age nineteen, making sure she was keeping it from everyone around her.

The last thing she wanted was to be treated the way she viewed herself.

The reason people were distant wasn’t because she was bullied or because people thought she was weird, she just didn’t know who exactly she was.

She didn’t know who she was until Bucky Barnes showed it to her.

He saved her in many more ways than she could ever say, and she goddamn loved him for it. He was her saving grace, and his presence reminded her just how much she needed to take care after you.

After your parent’s death she had become distant again, her depression was worst and she took it out on you, by no fault of her own.

When Bucky came into the picture, and he had upped her spirits in surprising ways that made her unbelievably happy, it was like a fog was cleared from her eyes and she was reminded that she had to take care of you.

It happened all because of him.

Ashlyn loved him with all her heart, but it came with a price.

Because of him, she discovered herself, and what she liked was material things and doing things for her husband, that in the long run, would benefit him [them].

Everything that she had transformed herself to become, which was now making her happier than ever, she had done it because of and for him.

And now that she’d been doing better mentally, after taking many drugs and lots of therapy, she found herself falling into the arms of another man.

When Mr. Barnes had taken her aside after their first interview, he had looked at her a certain way that made her tummy turn in uncertainty.

She had trembled slightly in apprehension as she saw a familiar form in his hand.

Resting his leg on his desk, his eyes darkened but remained on her.

It wasn’t to deny, Mr. Barnes had been a beautiful man (a silver fox in all ways), but he had made her feel uneasy with the way he stared at her ass when she had greeted her son earlier in the lobby.

The interview had gone well until she saw in his right hand a piece of paper that would either make or break it all.

“You didn’t have to keep this from us. Not me, especially my son, as I’m assuming he doesn’t know. Is there a reason why you chose to not mention this?”

He took Ashlyn’s silence as his answer and makes a sound of understanding.

“Why,” he taps the papers against his legs and walks around to sit in his big chair behind his desk, “did you keep your medical records a secret?”

Ashlyn swallowed nervously, her mouth opening but no sound coming out.

“Did you think this would stop me from hiring you?” Mr. Barnes wasn’t yelling, but his voice was strong. When she doesn’t say anything, he leans over his desk, drops the paper down, and with crossed hands continues, “look, you’re a sweet girl. And I see a lot of potential in you. You have good qualities, you stick up for what you want regardless of if it’s right or wrong-“

She couldn’t help it.

“I’m sorry, you got that from a fifteen-minute interview?” Ashlyn chuckles nervously.

Mr. Barnes smiles.

“Trust me, I have good instinct. Anyway, am I wrong?” When Ashlyn doesn’t respond, Mr. Barnes smirks, eyes drifting once more to her gorgeous legs, “bipolar, depression, anxiety, personality disorder, a manic episode-“ Ashlyn flinches with each word thrown at her, she feels it eating away at her bones and most importantly - her dignity. He notices and his eyes soften, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Many famous businessmen, celebrities, big figure names—suffer from the same illnesses. It doesn’t make you any less human or capable.”

A breath of relief escapes her lungs.

Ashlyn nodded.

He smirked.

“Come here, I want to show you something.”

She had followed him out to the large window and stood there next to her for a few minutes before continuing.

“You see this?” Ashlyn followed his gaze out into the city, the hundreds of people walking below in the streets, the famous buildings hanging high in the skies like goddamn trophies, “Barnes Enterprises owns about seventy five percent of everything you’re seeing. From the Hudson to the bay-“ He turned slowly to Ashlyn and examined her face, “I see the way your eyes shine when you look at it.”

Ashlyn swallows as her eyes drift down, “It’s all really nice. Everything he’s done for me so far, it’s almost like he knows exactly what I need. It’s like he’s cured me.” She trembled slightly under his heavy gaze and as his finger played with a strand of her that was on her shoulder.

“And what is it that you need?”

Ashlyn thought about it- really thought about it. The answer was simple, and it wasn’t one that she had ever expected to be the answer to all her issues. After Bucky had given her the apartment, the job, and now looking at the city, she knew exactly what it was that she wanted.

“Everything.”

Barnes’ bit his bottom lip and nodded, looking once more out the window.

“Perfect. Look I think you’ll be perfect for this job more than you think. If anything I’m going to want your help, but it’s something that can only stay between us. It will make you happy and it will help you.” “Of course, anything.”

Mr. Barnes sighed.

“Look, Bucky’s a great kid, as I’m sure you know. But he’s got some weaknesses. He thinks too much with his heart. I’m going to want you to work under my eye, and there are certain tasks you might have to do that at first won’t make sense to you, but in the long run you will see it pay off. That is, if I choose you to stay.”

His words at first had surprised her. Bucky’s own father wanted Ashlyn to keep a secret from him. She loved Bucky and she loved the things he was doing for her.

“It will help me?” Her voice shook with uncertainty.

“Yes.”

It was on their trip to Paris that it had happened.

It was a simple assistant job, follow Mr. Barnes around like a fucking chihuahua taking his calls, making sure everything was in order, keeping appointments, etc.

She made sure that all his emails were read and she read lines with him on what he had to say to Tony at their meeting the following night.

Everything was all set until it was time for her to go to her own hotel room when Mr. Barnes stopped her.

She spun around with a small frown and asked if there was something she had missed. He simply shook his head and beckoned her with his finger to walk over to him.

She hesitated for a moment until those familiar eyes took her in, shivering at how it sent a weird warmth down her body that she didn’t expect.

Somewhere along the way, she’d ended up between his legs. His hands had been on her waist and her own hands in his silver luxurious hair.

He had started with simple kisses around her belly button around the heavy rummaging of his corse hands on her denim were the only sound.

In the back of her head, she had that burning guilt of the reminder of her boyfriend and she pushed him away softly, almost painfully.

“Mr. Barnes, this is wrong.”

“Remember that test I was telling you about? This is it, Ashlyn. If you can do this, you can do anything. And you can have anything you want.”

She wanted to be cured, she wanted to be okay again like when she was a child. She hated her illness, and the only thing that seemed to make her better was what Mr. Barnes was offering her.

He was right. Wasn’t he?

She felt a heavy knot in her throat.

“You can’t tell Bucky.”

“No. Never. That would ruin everything.”

She took in his words and after a few more seconds succumbed to his ‘test’.

She’d gone down on him and she had felt disgusted with herself. When he was finished, she wanted to run out of that room and call Bucky, tell him she loved him.

She was turned away and had wiped her mouth one more time on the back of her hand when that husky voice from behind her started again.

“Have you ever owned a five thousand dollar purse before?”

She had thought that was a weird question, especially after just giving a man a blowjob.

“No.”

“It’d look good on you. I’ll take you tomorrow to get one.”

Her brows furrowed.

“I don’t have five thousand dollars.”

“Yes, yes you do.”

The second he said it everything in her head finally clicked.

Anything she wanted really could be hers.

The first few work ‘trips’ and ‘meetings’ after that night killed her. Her love for Bucky was still so strong and the guilt ate her alive.

But Mr. Barnes promised her that what she was doing would be for him, too. It was good for the both of you, he had said. And Ashlyn believed him.

She had to convince Stark and Pymm for a percentage of their company's proceeds and it was up to her. She hated that she was spending more time away from her boyfriend and she noticed how much it was tearing them apart.

But it was strange because part of her was no longer depressed. She finally felt beautiful and happy, like she was meantfor something.

She felt wanted.

Her happiness soon became bigger than the pain she felt for cheating on Bucky. He still loved her anyway.

He wouldn’t leave her.

Her escapades with Hank had been brief and almost felt pointless.

For the most part, he’d just lay there beneath her like the old man he was and let her ride him until his body jerked.

She’d go back to Barnes’ shower and scrub her skin until it was raw, almost certain that with the way their sex was going it wasn’t going to turn into a good result.

They weren’t going to get the percentage Barnes Enterprises was hoping for.

To say she was surprised when Mr. Barnes told her they’d gotten forty percent of the gross pay, after their disappointing fuck fest, was an understatement.

Maybe she was better than she thought.

Maybe Bucky was right, she really was perfect.

Then she met Tony.

She thought that what she had with Bucky was true love until Tony.

Unfortunately, it was unrequited.

She had been shattered at the thought of what she had allowed her heart to feel and what she had ruined. When Bucky had run out that night to God knows where, she had finally had a taste of her own medicine. And it was fucking bitter.

She needed Bucky in her life. He was her guardian angel.

But she also needed to do it for her health. She couldn’t risk the chance of Bucky finding out about what she had done and and leaving her with nothing.

She was afraid of what would happen to her sanity.

So her and Mr. Barnes came up with a plan. It would not only help salvage the company but it would keep Ashlyn at peace. After all, he’d convinced her that she was mentally stronger at keeping a better financial outcome for the company than Bucky ever would.

His thought process was too logical, hers was more practical.

The moment she promised herself that she would no longer cheat was exactly four years ago, about a year into their marriage.

Her change of heart was mainly because there was no longer a reason for it, she had the money she needed, THEY had it all.

She tried so hard to love him again and to make him love her again.

And one day, it almost seemed like they did.

It almost seemed too good to be true. And now, they had a baby on the way.

This was their second chance.

She thought for many nights of asking Bucky about the one night he ran out on her many years ago. She thought about asking where it was he had ran to, but she knew she couldn’t handle it.

She was thankful he never brought it up again.

For a while, everything seemed great.

Until you showed up again, the so-called light of her life.

It was like Bucky’s switch flipped and it had been how it used to be five years ago.

And that’s how she ended up at Steve’s front door.

It didn’t take more than three persistent knocks for the door to swing open.

She was met with Steve’s distraught expression which quickly turned into shock.

“Ashlyn.”

Ashlyn was momentarily stunned as she looked back at the face that she hadn’t seen in years.

“Steve.”

Steve swallowed hard as his eyes darted down her body, his grip on the door tightening.

“What are you doing here?”

“I think you know why I’m here.”

Multiple possibilities swam through Steve’s head and a strange fear that he couldn’t place crept up his spine.

He tilted his head.

“I can’t talk right now—“

“Like hell, you can’t, Rogers.”

Ashlyn had moved up until her our hand was on his door, trying to pry it open. He stared up at her, eyes still bloodshot.

“What do you want?” He whispered painfully.

Her eyes were just as pained, “I need to talk to you, please.”

He looked at her for a second longer, contemplating if he would be able to handle another wave of drama after what he had just experienced in his now ex-girlfriend’s hotel room, before finally letting Ashlyn in.

“Please tell me what you were doing with Bucky.”

She says after he has the door closed. She notes the way the muscles in his back tense at her words, the heavy puff of air that escapes his lungs as his fingers flex against the wood of the door.

“Please, Steve. What don’t I know?”

“I-“ his breath catches in his throat as he plays back the image of his best friend and his girl next to a used condom, “You should call him.”

“He’d hiding something isn’t he?” Steve took in a deep breath as he ran a hand down his face, “Please, Ash—“

“Is it business-related, or does it have to do with something else?” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, “You don’t know what I’ve been through, how hard I have tried to salvage our marriage. And just when I thought I had him back, he’s hiding something and I know it.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve mumbles as he turns around to make his way to the living room, walking right past Ashlyn with a stern face.

“If you’re sorry you would tell me what you know, you would tell me the real reason you left, you would explain to me-“

“Will you stop?”

His sudden shout shocks both of them. Ashlyn’s breathing hard as she sees the fresh tears sprung his eyes.

“I know it’s hard. It’s fucking hard, I know. But I’m not in the mood right now to be anyone’s psychologist or couples mediator. You want to know everything, why don’t you try communicating with your husband? Why don’t you ask him your damn self, Ashlyn?” He watches as she started to cave into herself, eyes looking away from him in shame.

“I’m afraid.”

It comes out quietly. Steve’s sighs in disappointment - disappointment with himself for the way he snapped at you.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s hard to ask something you secretly don’t want the answer to, and damnit, I feel horrible that I can’t be the one to speak to you about it. It has to be him.”

A few tears run down her face as they both stand there in silence.

Steve’s eyebrows dart up as he sees Ashlyn reach for the buttons of her wool coat, unbuttoning it slowly.

It isn’t until she has it draped over her right arm and she faces him completely -eyes darting towards her belly- that he realizes what she was showing him.

His eyes dart immediately to her stomach. If it wasn’t for her move or for where her gaze was, he wouldn’t have even noticed the small little bump.

He swallows thickly as many emotions course through his body.

“Are you…?” It comes out softly.

She nods.

He was angry at his best friend for doing what he did to his wife - his pregnant wife-, he was confused because did you know about this, and he felt pain for Ashlyn. For the betrayal, she would feel when she found out what Bucky did to her.

He felt pity.

Steve walked over to his couched and motioned for Ashlyn to follow him.

“Please.”

She became timid under his gaze as she brushed a few tears off her face.

“Tell me everything.”

Ashlyn took a deep breath and started from the beginning, but leaving out the inappropriate details that involved Mr. Barnes, Tony, and Hank.

“—I knew we were going through a rough patch, and it was mostly my fault because I was so busy with work, but he shouldn’t have given up on me so easily. I still tried so hard to fight for us, but something was distracting him. I don’t know what, I mean at one point I thought maybe he was even cheating on me- kissing some other girl on the side- but never actually fornicating. He’s too good.”

Steve’s gaze trailed down the side of the couch, his heart grew heavy.

“Right?”

Steve reached over and took Ashlyn’s hand in his, “I’m sorry you’ve both been going through all this. You don’t deserve it. But I can’t tell you what I know.” “Why?” “Because it’s not my place. But you need to talk to him as soon as possible,” Steve ran his hand through his hair, “I can’t stand that son of a bitch right now, but at the end of the day, I can’t get it out of my head that he’s still that same little boy I grew up with. I want to hate him so much, but I still have some kind of respect that I just can’t shake.”

“What happened between both of you, if it doesn’t relate to me? You seem shaken up.”

Steve was caught off guard by her questions.

“Look, I think you should go—“

Steve stood up quickly before the tears could make its way up his throat.

“Steve-“

“Please take care of yourself, Ashlyn.”

“It’s so hard not being able to touch you,” you whimper when you get a chance to pull away from his mouth, “But we can’t. Not until we tell her.”

His fingers continued to trail down your chin and you got lost in his touch again.

“James.”

You whimpered softly. You were hypnotized by his presence as he leaned in to kiss you.

You kissed him back deeply, moaning the second his tongue flicked against yours.

You ran your left hand up through his hair and your leg wrapped around his waist. He groaned as he ground up against you.

“Just once more.” He whimpered into the soft skin of your neck.

“We can’t keep doing this—“ your hands drifted down to the buckle of his belt, “we can’t.”

You continued to open up his fly.

He was panting while he looked down at what you were doing.

“Then stop,” he met your eyes in an intense stare that left you shaking, “I dare you.”

Your only response was to raise yourself higher onto your elbows, grabbing him in a harsh kiss.

“One more time.” You breathed out.

He kissed you again and again.

You shuddered as you felt the tips of his fingers on the waist of your jeans and underwear.

Your kisses began to get heated and you had to physically pull yourself away from him.

“Bucky, wait.”

“What’s wrong?” “We’re good people, but look at what we’re doing to the people around us. I love you so much, but I can’t keep doing this knowing that they are still hurting.”

“So what do you suggest we do?” “We need to speak to Steve. We need to explain everything. And then Ashlyn needs to know.” You watched as he visibly swallowed hard. You reached for his left hand and played with the ring there, “I can’t keep having sex with you when you’re still married to her.”

“You’re right. No, I agree.”

You’re both sitting next to each other and Bucky reaches over to grab his leather coat when a vibrating sound startles the both of you. Your eyes furrow together as an unknown caller comes up on the screen.

“Hello?” “Why hello to you, too.” “Nat?”

Yours and Bucky’s eyes meet briefly.

“The one and only.”

Nat sits in a coffee shop, and she twirls the edge of her mug with a pointer finger. Across from her is Wanda, her face in her hands.

“How have you been? You cut me off and not even an “I miss you” either?”

You let out a long sigh, guilt consuming you.

“Look, Nat. Its been a hard five years,” your eyes flicker up to Bucky again and he gives you a sad look, “I’m sorry, I do miss you. I missed all of you.”

“Listen, tell Bucky I need to steal you for tonight. He wouldn’t mind now would he?” Nat smirked while Wanda groaned into her hand.

You’re shocked, and you’re quite positive Bucky heard her judging by his equally stunned face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You add in a fake/nervous laugh for extra measure.

“Who do you think sent Barnes after you in the first place?” You don’t answer still shocked, “Tonight, come out to dinner with me and my friend. We have a plan. I’ll text you details.”

She hangs up on you and you're left fazed and confused as you look down at your phone.

“What was that?” Bucky asks concerned.

“Nat wants to meet up with me tonight. She says she has some sort of plan.” “Plan for what?” “I have no idea.”

Bucky nods. He’s just got his shows slipped on when he walks over to you, planting a deep kiss on your swollen lips.

You part them slightly, letting your hand go to the back of his neck, pulling him in deeper into you.

When you both pull away he smiles at you,

“Everything will be fine. You go meet Nat, as I’m sure she misses you just as much as you miss her. I think I’m gonna go to talk to Steve.” “Are you sure?”

Bucky nodded, “Yeah. Bro to bro.”

Steve knew that by the second time that evening if one more person were to knock crazily on his front door, he would burn his apartment down along with his body.

He was so exhausted he didn’t even care to look through the peephole before ripping it open.

What he was face to face with was the last thing he was expecting.

He sucked in a deep breath through his nose.

He didn’t hesitate before shutting it closed again in Bucky’s face.

“Come on, man.” Bucky sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. He raised his hand and knocked once more, “Please.”

Steve remained silent, back leaned up against his door.

“I know all of this is a mess, but I want to explain myself. It’ll make sense if you just let me talk,” Steve’s eyes closed tight together, “Steve, please.” Bucky leaned his hand down to the doorknob and jiggled it, “Come on. You’re my best friend.”

Steve let his back drag down the door, bringing his knees to his chest.

Bucky took a deep breath, “Fine. I’ll talk and you can listen.”

@wxntersoldxer16 @void-imaginations @heykarsyn @avashroom @sarcastic-and-cool @lunaticbarnes @benhardygalileo @wildmavs @runaway-escape @stevieboyharrington @kimvmarvel @chipilerendi @hardygal69

____

Boys when my baby found me I was three days on a drunken sin I woke with her walls around me Nothin' in her room but an empty crib

#Bucky x Reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #Bucky barnes fanfic #Bucky barnes Fanfiction #Bucky barnes x You #Bucky x you #Bucky Barnes smut #Bucky Barnes x Reader series #Marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #Marvel smut

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chappedandfadedvds · 4 years ago

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Nov 11th, Wednesday 21:12

„So why did you actually move here in the first place?“

They had finished dinner and sat on the sofa in the livingroom. Empty plates and half filled wine glasses left forgotten on the low table infront of them. Lucas had found a bottle I n one of the cupboards, presenting it to Jens with a grin. They hadn’t found any candles though, so their joked about candle-light-dinner fell a bit short.

Lucas’s legs were thrown over Jens’s lap, as the boy rested his back against the side arm of the couch.

They had talked a lot about the online classes till now and the huge amount of homework they had gotten. Til Jens remembered that he wanted to ask Lucas so many more private things, that hadn’t felt right over the phone. He wanted to see Lucas in person when he did.

„Difficult topic.“ The boy said, leaning his head against the back rest, as he looked at Jens, but went on quietly regardless. Only pausing occasionally as he elaborated: „My mother takes part in a 9 month long drug trial here at the university hospital... She suffers from severe depression with a moderate form of psychosis... becasue why not. And they have a new treatment in development, that her doctor suggested could help her balance the chemicals in her brain, or something... So I told her, that I thought it was a good idea and that I wouldn’t let her go on her own. Obviously I’m also underage... Now, here we are.“

It evidently was hard for Lucas to talk about his family situation. And Jens was instantly reminded back to Robbe and how he had been there for his best friend two years ago, while everything went to shit with his mother, while he himself dealt with Jana and their break-up.

But this wasn’t the time to dwell on old memories. This here only involved Lucas.

So Jens strechted his arm out far enough, that his fingers could comb though the brown locks on Lucas’s head.

„Sorry to hear that. How is she doing?“

„Pretty good actually. I felt so lost with her back in Utrecht, but now that we are here and I don’t have to constantly worry over her, I feel much better. She is much more energetic and happy when we spend a day or two together. She asks more, listens more. She feels much more like a parent for once in a very long time.“ Lucas smiled at him, certainly looking content with his current situation until Jens hit him with the next question, his expression dropping into a frown.

„And where is your father?“

„He moved to Amsterdam after my mom broke down one day. They were fighting for years already and I don’t really mind him being out of my life, he was a bit far leaning on the conservative site.“ The dutch boy explained vaguely, certainly being done with this subject. On his part at least.

„What about your parents? You also only live with your mom, right?“

“Yup.“ Being on the recieving end of the question hurt definitely more. He wasn’t about to lie though to Lucas, as the boy had been so honest with him. He just wasn’t ready to talk about his mom yet. He didn’t know how to start.

„Only with my mom, yes. I haven’t seen my dad in years. I’m not even sure if Robbe remembers him. He was home at best a couple of month a year. He is not a bad man, he just never was made for settling down and family life, I suppose.“

„What do you mean?“ Lucas interrupted, watching Jens curiously from his position, his hand lightly kneading the older boy’s neck in circles. It was a very calming feeling.

„Well, he studied marine biology and after having done his PhD, with me being two, he started going on all sorts of expeditions. He always came back with the coolest stories and gifts. A real adventurer. I loved listening to him as a boy, Only when I grew older and Lotte was born did I notice under how much pressure my mom stood. She broke it off with him, when I was eleven. They never divorced, but the last time I heard of him was a postcard on my birthday two years ago from Tasmania.“ Jens shrugged. „I don’t even have an adress or a phone number to contact him, so... Not sure if it makes him an asshole or not.“

Truth be told, Jens never really had felt much regarding his absent father. He also didn’t really think much about him. He only ever felt sad for his mom having to handle everything on her own.

„Yeah, I don’t know either.“ Lucas said carefully, unsure of his response. Maybe he was afraid to say the wrong thing, or to hurt Jens?

„Do you think he would have approved of us here?“ Lucas question caught him a bit off guard, until he remembered that the boy had told him his father to be „conservative“.

„I believe so, he was very much of the „live and let live“ attitude, as far as I can recall. And even if not, I don’t really care, because I get to cuddle and kiss this pretty boy right here.“

Lucas snorted at him, still sat straighter up and reaching over to kiss Jens, moving to settle on his lap.

„Do your friends know you are not straight?“ Lucas continued to ask, as his lips brushed along Jens’s jaw.

„No. I mean three weeks ago, I thought I was very straight.“

„Oh?“ Lucas feighned surprise and leaned his head back, his eyes searching for Jens’s gaze, as he grinned. „How come not now?“

„I haven’t the slightest clue. I may need something to remind me.“ Jens said, his arms wrapped around the body of Lucas, pulling him closer, his hips pushing up playfully into the other boy, who drew a sharp breath, his eyes falling shut.

If that wasn’t a beautiful sight to be seen.

„Jens.“ Lucas whispered nervously clearing his throat, his gaze driffted off over Jen’s head. Had he done something wrong?

„Sorry, should I..“

„No.“ Lucas quickly stopped Jens in his attempt to push Lucas a bit away. The fingers in his neck digging into him.

„Okay.“ Jens waited for Lucas to gather his thoughts. It only took the boy a minute to go on and elaborate.

„I’ve never...“

„You’ve never...“ Jens repeated, when the other boy once again stopped in his tracks.

„I’ve never done this. All of this.“ Lucas finally said.

„What? Was I your first kiss?“ Jens’s eyes grew wide as the thought hit him, and with it an actual punch in the chest from Lucas’s fist. Not that it was really hard or meant to hurt.

„No. I’ve kissed before. It just never went anywhere further than that. And also they were girls.“

„Eh same. You are also the first boy I’ve kissed.“ Jens said grinning brightly at the smiling boy rolling his eyes.

„That’s not what I mean, asshole.“

„Sorry.“ He pecked a kiss on Lucas’s lips, earning him another in return, before the boy on his lap grew a bit more serious again.

„You have so much experience with girls at least and I have none... What if you don’t like this? You said yourself, that you thought you were absolutely straight before. I’m scared I’m not good enough.“ The last words were a whisper so soft, Jens had trouble to understand them.

„Hey. I’m nervous too.“ Jens admitted as he locked eyes with Lucas. „You are the first boy for me as well. I have no fucking clue, what I am supposed to be doing here. I’ve never thought about it before, nor done reasearch on it. I just... We’ll just figure it out, okay? And if today is not the right day, then there is still tomorrow. So how about we kiss. And then you take my sweater and shirt off, and I’ll take yours off. Because honestly that is all I want right now. And then we’ll go from there.“

Lucas was back to smiling at him, eagerly nodding as his eyes dropped to Jens’s lips before he was pulled back into a tight embrace by the older boy. Their lips finding each other blind while their hands lost no time slipping under fabric and pulling their shirts off.

How hard could it be?

__ __ __

tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots

quick info:

so I am ace, but had my fair share of experiences, still I’m not comfortable going further than that in writing. If you expected some explicit content in my work, I’m afraid, I’ll have to disappoint you. Go read it somewhere and come back for the story, if you want 😭

hope you don’t mind and are able to fill the blanks to your fullest wishes!

thank you for reading!! ❤️

ps: if everything goes okay and I’m still motivated, I may continue my version of wtfock with another season exploring asexuality 🙈

#week 3 #wtfock #skam #vds #jens stoffels #lucas van der heijden #chapped and faded #2 of 3

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starbornvalkyrie · 4 years ago

Text

what we could be | part one

A/N: This is a Modern AU Rowaelin fic, loosely inspired by some major events in my own life. I’m not sure how long it will be yet, or how often I’ll be able to post, but please enjoy my first fanfic ever!

Let's just… see what happens when I get back.

Those words have been running through Aelin’s mind non-stop. The bomb that Rowan dropped before his study abroad program in Wendlyn was Hiroshima to her heart.

“I don't want you to feel obligated to stay loyal to me,” he’d said. “I don't want to make those kinds of promises yet.”

During the drive from the airport, Aelin cried. She drove straight to Lysandra’s house and cried some more. A week later, she was finally able to eat a full meal, only to throw it back up. The same with the two meals following that.

“I just don’t understand what was wrong, Lys. I thought we were on our way to a steady relationship.” Aelin sat on Lysandra’s bathroom floor, leaning against the toilet, and looked up at Lysandra who was perched on the edge of the tub.

“Nothing really went wrong, hon. I think Rowan is just being your stereotypical college guy. He met a girl who very well could be the mother of his children, which, naturally, made him panic. I mean, you remember what happened with Aedion.”

Aelin had to snort at that. Her older cousin, Aedion, is Lysandra’s fiancé. But years ago, there was a span of time when Aedion was the biggest idiot and asshole on the planet, failing to see the perfection staring him in the face.

They had just graduated college, and Lysandra had just been accepted to the University of Adarlan to pursue her Master’s in Fashion Design. But Aedion was off to Perranth to start Basic Training for Terrasen’s Army. Needless to say, Aedion turned into a controlling bastard and tried to convince Lysandra to stay in Terrasen.

Lysandra said no, went to Adarlan, and when Aedion’s eight weeks of BT were over, they reconnected. By no means was it easy, but they made it through. The rest is history.

Aelin had to admit, Lysandra had a point. But that still doesn’t tell her what they do now. Did he say that so he can hook up with foreign chicks without guilt? Or does he think Aelin isn’t good enough?

“I know what you’re thinking, and no, it does not mean that you aren’t good enough.” Lysandra took one of her hands. “Aelin, sweetheart. I know how hard it is for you to be rejected, but look where you are right now. Ten years ago, you were barely a preteen fighting her way through the foster system--”

Aelin closed her eyes as the memories of Arobynn and Sam flooded her mind. Aelin’s parents were victims of a drive-by shooting when she was twelve years old. Aedion’s family didn’t know she existed until she had already endured five years of playing human punching bag and hiding her most prized possessions under her pants while she slept on the floor. At that point, however, it was too late for her Uncle Gavriel to claim guardianship. She only needed to last three more months in hell before she turned 18 and could attend Terrasen University.

Growing up, Aelin was always fueled by pure hope, by her fireheart, as her mother called it. But towards the end, even on her best days, she didn't think she’d make it out of there. She was forced to watch her favorite foster brother, Sam, be beaten to a pulp while another was sent to Juvie. All of her energy was put towards getting good grades and staying on Arobynn’s good side. The former was easy, she was always good at school.

The latter… Well, let’s just say there was an incident with a matchbox, Arobynn’s favorite wrist watch, and a can opener. Aelin still has a scar on her left brow from what went down after that.

“And now,” Lysandra’s voice brought her back to the present. “Now, you are a first generation college student about to graduate with a degree in Chemical Engineering. You alone got yourself a full ride to Terrasen U, and you alone have brought yourself back from the depths of hell to make something with the life the gods gave you.”

“But--”

Lysandra cut her off with a squeeze of her hands. “But nothing, Aelin. I don’t care if this man is your mate. I don’t care if you end up growing old and dying with him. You do not need him to dictate whether or not you are worth something.”

Aelin knew when to argue with Lysandra, but after those words, now was not one of those times.

Groaning, Aelin did what she does best: she got up from the floor and went on with her life.

When classes rolled around in the third week of January, it was easy for her to forget about Rowan. She only had two more classes and her senior thesis standing between her and her Bachelor’s degree, which hopefully comes with an acceptance into the Pharmaceutical Engineering Master’s Program at Terrasen U.

Fire had always fascinated her. The bunsen burners and hot plates and mixing of chemicals spoke to her in a way that she couldn’t really put into words. But fire, while beautiful, can also destroy. So she chose a field that would allow her to burn while creating methods of healing.

It didn't hurt that her TA, Chaol Westfall, wasn’t bad to look at. Last semester, he had asked her out on a couple dates, but she was already starting to talk to Rowan. It didn’t matter now that the man in question is probably off with some bimbo from Doranelle. His loss, right?

About a month and a half into the semester, Aelin finally worked up the courage to ask Chaol to grab coffee after class. She was packing up her books to head home and get ready when the nausea hit. She haphazardly zipped her backpack and ran to the nearest restroom. As she rinsed her mouth in the sink, she mourned the chocolate cake that was now making its way to the Avery.

Her mourning quickly morphed into panic when she thought about what day it was. As she did the mental math, she ran out the door and beelined for her car. Thank the gods no police were on the road at this time because she definitely deserved a ticket for how fast she drove to the pharmacy, then to Lysandra’s.

Aelin sprinted up the steps to her front door as fast as she could and incessantly knocked on the door.

The door opened to reveal a man with his shirt half unbuttoned, hair in disarray. Aedion scowled at her. “You better have a good fucking excuse for interrupting, cousin.” He said it playfully, but Aelin didn't have the mental capacity to roll her eyes and play along.

She pushed past him and ran to the kitchen, not stopping to think about why she knows their fetishes. Lysandra is tucking her breast back into her dress when Aelin exclaims, “I’m late.”

Lysandra, bless her soul, knew exactly what she meant, and ran to her side. “How late? Did you take a test?”

Aelin let Lysandra guide her into a seat and listened to her command to breathe. “Not yet, but I picked one up on the way here.” She looked Lysandra in the eye. “I always get my period the last week of the month, no sooner, no later. I wasn’t really thinking about it last month because I was so busy planning out my thesis, but…”

“...but it’s the end of February and you still haven’t gotten it,” Lysandra finished for her. “Not to play the Mother Hen part, but were you and Rowan always safe? I thought you were on birth control?”

Aelin shook her head. “My body doesn’t handle birth control well, but Rowan always, always, used a condom. When we didn’t have any, we didn’t do it, end of story. Our relationship was so new, we didn’t even do it that much.”

“Okay, well, condoms aren’t always 100% effective, but let’s not jump to any conclusions. Let’s take this one step at a time. First, drink some water, then pee on the stick. I’ll be with you to read it, and then we’ll figure it out from there, got it?”

Aelin nodded, eternally grateful she didn’t have to go through this with Aedion. The Army must have done something right with his brain because he made himself scarce after he answered the door.

She did the deed, opened the door for Lysandra, and they both sat on the floor holding hands for three minutes.

Aelin already knew what it would show.

Two solid pink lines.

Positive.

---

to my tag list: hello, i’m back, and currently in the process of uploading the rest of this fic! please let me know if you do not want to be on my list anymore, or if you would like to be added! love y’all!

@maddymelv || @lucy617 || @tillyrubes10 || @faerie-queen-fireheart || @tottenhamboys20 || @the-third-me || @superspiritfestival || @rolltide7 || @courtofjurdan || @sleeping-and-books || @aelinchocolatelover

#rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #rowan x aelin #modern au #throne of glass #sarah j maas #my writing #sfq meg writes

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ochard-fics · 4 years ago

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Bad Ideas - A Spider-man Story

Chapter Index: 1, 2

Pronouns used: they/them

Genre: Enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff, young love

Warnings: None

Word count: 6.5k+

Summary: Though you moved across the country about half a year ago, you are still trying to find your footing in the strange streets of New York. On top of that, you are desperately trying to balance your demanding school life at Midtown School of Science and Technology, where you like everyone but you was much more talented and smarter than you could ever imagine to be. Among those students is the one whom you loathe the most: Peter Benjamin Parker, the boy who’s success both in school and in Stark Industries is constantly shoved in your face. The only person who helps you escape those troubles is Spider-man, the hero of Queens and your crush.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this! Likes, retweets, and feedback is appreciated~

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Chapter 1 - Spider-man’s Sandwich Seller

When your mom excitedly told you that you’d start attending Midtown School of Science and Technology (MSST for short) in August you didn’t think much about it. As far as you knew, it was probably like any other public high school in America that was located in a “nice” part of a major city in America. Yet again you’d spent the last 16 years in Southern California, so your knowledge of schools outside of the area was very limited. Still, you felt no joy or resentment of the idea of being an MSST student. You assumed the title of “Science and Technology” was just to play it up as something cool.

But oh boy, how wrong you were.

It’s been four months into your junior year at MSST and you learned the hard way that the “Science and Technology” part of the school’s title was not played up for show. If the school was a cell, it’s STEM* program was the mitochondria of the institution. Everyone around you was excelling somewhere within the programs’ four disciplines, and you could not escape it’s presence no matter what. You would think that your mom would have warned you about this before she enrolled you, someone who was not savvy in the STEM disciplines AT ALL, into this foreign environment.

It had been a couple of weeks since the new semester of junior year started back up and here you were, trapped within the cold walls of the chemistry lab, staring down at your second quiz of the new semester. A pop quiz, no less. One of your worst enemy.

You glanced up at the clock to see how much time you had left. Three minutes. Crap. The first three questions on chemical bonds had you stuck, and you could feel your brain reach its thinking capacity.

Looking over the questions again, you went over your work to see if you had done something wrong. However, you weren’t even sure if the work you were doing was correct. Furrowing your brows, you desperately tried to remember something from your lecture that could make sense of this equation, but the anxiety only left your brain cloudy.

The loud ring of the school bell snapped you out of your thoughts and made you jump in shock, earning you a surprised look from your deskmate, MJ.

“You okay?” She asked, a brow raised by your sudden movement.

“I…” You sputtered, feeling your face flush in embarrassment, and looked down at your quiz to avoid eye contact with her. A heavy and defeated sigh left your body, as you immediately accepted your failure on this exam. “Yeah, the bell just startled me,” you replied, giving her a weak smile. She furrowed her brows at you, but luckily she decided not to press further.

The sound of zippers being pulled and the excited chatter of students almost drowned Mr. Cobwell’s request to hand him the quizzes as they exited the class. MJ went ahead of you as you begrudgingly shoved your pencil pack into your backpack and slung the red canvas sack over your shoulder. Guilt and shame began to press upon your chest as you walked up to Mr. Cobwell, who was trying to organize the load of papers in his arms. He notices your hunched figure as you approached, and his expression turns to that of concern. Averting your gaze from him, you hand over your barely done quiz, to which Mr. Cobwell gazes over it in dismay. He lets out a disappointed sigh, making the pressure on your chest worse.

“(Y/N),” He begins, shaking his head, “We’re half-way into the school year, this is really troubling.” Your eyes look down at your black and white canvas shoes, the embarrassment making it difficult to make eye contact with your superior. Cobwell waits for a response from you, but seems to notice your current emotions so he continues.

“You know, if you are struggling with the lessons, you can always tell me,” he says in a concerned voice, “I understand that chemistry is a very difficult subject for those who struggle with subjects like math. After class you can ask me questions about the lesson if you don’t feel comfortable doing that during the lesson.”

For some reason Cobwell’s genuine concern made you feel even more guilty. What teacher would want to waste time explaining everything to a student who didn’t even understand in the first place? Wouldn’t he think you’re dumb for not getting it? And what if you still needed him to explain because you just couldn’t get it? Wouldn’t he get frustrated and snap at you? You looked up for a moment to meet eyes with Mr. Cobwell, who was waiting for your response. Instead, you headed towards the door, head hung low, and wished him a good evening.

Squeezing through the school of teenagers flooding the hallway, you catch up to MJ, who was leaning by the club bulletin watching the crowd. You called out for her and she turned toward you, giving you a small ‘Sup with her head and leaned off of the walls as you approached her.

“Hey,” she said, nodding her head towards the chemistry classroom, “Everything good?” The last thing you wanted was to bring down the mood to your only friend at MSST, so you shrugged and replied, “Yeah, it was just about the quiz.”

MJ furrowed her brows in concern, saying, “You know, if you need any help, I’m down to do it.” Great, more guilt came from those words. You know MJ meant well, but you couldn’t help the feeling make home in your heart.

“It’s fine, MJ,” you replied, gently shooting down her offer, “Really. You’re already busy with the academic decathlon and art club. Those are more important.” MJ gives you a look, one of ‘Are you sure?’.

She lets out a short defeated sigh and shrugs, replying, “Whatever, it’s your life. Let’s just get to your locker already.” You nod and begin walking with her against the current of students. Four months ago you didn’t really think that your short interaction with MJ would lead you to being pals with her, yet here you both are. Granted, you both were similar in several ways. For one, both of you were the more introverted type, and tended to dress how you liked rather than how others expected you to dress. Both of you were pursuing artists, both having joined the new and improved art club at MSST. Plus, you both liked things that most would consider to be a bit eccentric, such as morbid things like true crime or controversial stuff like surrealist art and history. Flash Thompson, the residential rich idiot of MSST, liked to call the both of you freaks. Though MJ would usually be able to shut his ass up with a comeback that made Thompson look like a dumbass.

However, a friendship wouldn’t be such if there weren’t any differences between the two, and you both had quite striking ones. While MJ tended to be much more blunt, you tended to keep your feelings to yourself. She was also much more observant than you could ever be, since you are more intuitive, though you thought that was mostly your anxiety. Additionally, you tended to be a bit more hot-headed, which has gotten you in a few verbal spats with Flash. The most obvious difference between the two of you, was that MJ was incredibly smart, while you...well, you already know where you were several lacking in the academic intelligence department.

It’s funny, neither you nor MJ verbally agreed to be friends. Both of you just naturally gravitated towards the other whenever you were around each other. MJ insists that she’s a lone wolf, but she considers you her friend, and you the same with her.

The two of you headed towards your locker, where you noticed it was being blocked but a familiar lanky figure in a blue MSST zipper hoodie. Disgruntled, you paced faster toward the figure until you were behind it. The person leaning hadn’t noticed you yet since their back was facing toward you, so to your (and MJ’s) amusement you thought about slamming your hand on the locker next to yours to give the pasty blockade a scare. However, just as you were about to reel your hand in, the figure turns around and faces you.

“Oh! (Y/N)!” Peter Parker, the golden loser as you like to call him, chimes with a crack. You groaned mentally. Damn it, of all the people you wanted to see right now he had to be here.

Let’s get one thing perfectly clear: you despised, no, loathed Peter Benjamin Parker. He was in the same grade as you, and was, unfortunately, in all of your classes. The guy was infamous in MSST for having scored an internship at Stark Industries, where your dad currently works and the main reason you moved from Los Angeles to Queens in the first place. Admittingly, he was incredibly gifted. He, along with MJ and a handful of other students in MSST, was one of the top students at the school. Whenever you watched him in class, you could see how easily everything came to him. He just...got it.

And you hated him for it.

Parker leans off your locker quickly and steps aside, motioning you towards it.

“S-sorry! I didn’t mean to block your way!” he stutters, something he tended to do frequently. You said nothing and gave him an emotionless eyebrow raise, then looked over to see Ned Leeds, who looked like he was trying to hold laughing at his friend’s awkward expression. He was your locker neighbor and Peter Parker’s best friend, so unfortunately you would see Parker too often. You didn’t necessarily mind him, he’s a well-meaning guy, but at times you did find him pretty annoying.

You rolled your eyes at the boys and opened your locker, shoving your Chemistry textbook into it like it was a ragdoll. If it didn’t cost $150 you would’ve loved to lunge it across the halls instead (where it could possibly hit Flash Thompson in the head), but you knew that probably would’ve given you a temporary high of satisfaction. The boys look at you surprised but resume their previous conversation, which seemed to be about a Lord of the Rings lego set. MJ gives her signature judgemental look and, noticing your aggressive behavior, attempts to make you feel better.

“Hey,” she began as you unzipped your backpack and shuffled through the contents inside, “There’s a new episode of the Left for Dead podcast out today. You want to get paletas** and take a listen?”

“I can’t today,” you replied, not looking at MJ and you traded books to and from your locker, “I asked Delmar to give me more hours so I’m going to do part-time on Monday now.” MJ clicks her tongue in disappointment, but shrugs the decline off.

“Dang that sucks,” she says in her monotone voice, “This episode was supposed to be about Black Dahlia, too.” You were disappointed too, so you turned to her.

“We can listen to it over Zoom when I get home,” you assured her, “I’ll be back by 8.”

“Hey MJ!” Ned called out, catching the attention of both you and your friend, “If you’re free, Pete and I were thinking of going to Shawarma Palace right now! Care to join?” MJ declines the offer, saying that she’s just going to go home. Before she heads out, she bids you and the boys a farewell. You then watched as she turned around and walked towards the school entrance, disappearing into the sea of students.

Listening to the new podcast sounds much more fun than work, you thought sadly to yourself. A sad sigh left your body, which caught the attention of Parker.

“Hey (Y/N),” he started, “Are...you okay?” Despite the genuine concern coming from his tone, you felt your fight responses kick it.

“Why do you care?” you ask spitefully, shooting a look at him. The brunette is taken aback by your response, and so was Ned.

“I-I-I just…” Parker stammers, fiddling with his hands nervously, “I saw you talking to Cobwell and you looked pretty upset.” For some reason, this sets you off. Angry, you slam your locker shut, alarming the boys and everyone else around you three.

“Mind your own damn business, Parker.” You say bitterly, giving the already shocked boy an intense glare. Looking at him was only making you more angry, so you slung your red canvas backpack over your shoulder and turned your heel towards the school entrance, leaving Parker and Leeds to wonder what in the hell just happened.

It has been three hours into your shift at Delmar’s Deli and Grill, you tried to keep yourself busy in order to beat the feeling of anger that had lingered on you ever since you left school. Even the soundtracks of your surroundings like the small hum of the heater, the blissful purrs of Murph the bodega cat, the occasion honks from the cars outside, and the every-so-often flipping of pages from the paper Delmar was reading couldn’t distract you from your annoyance towards Parker.

Damn Parker, thinks he could eavesdrop into my personal life, you bitterly thought, aggressively sweeping at the murky tiled floors of the bodega, I’ll kick his ass if I ever catch him-

The small television above the newspaper racks interrupted your internal monologue. You looked up from sweeping to see it playing today’s news. Delmar and you listened in to the report:

“...was hospitalized. According to Queens police, they believe that the attackers are purposely targeting small businesses as this is the fourth one to be robbed these past two weeks,” You watched the pristine-looking woman with a sculpted hairstyle announce as footage was being shown beside her, “From security footage it can be determined that the attackers are a duo, both male, about five foot eight...”

“Jeez, I just reopened this place too,” you heard Delmar grumble, who was looking up at the TV, “Why can’t they rob a Whole Foods or something? Assholes like them, taking advantage of the working man...you must be rotten to go after family businesses. Isn’t Spider-man going to do anything about this?”

“Local police have reported that Spider-man has been informed of the current situation and will be looking into the robberies,” the reporter answered, “For now, authorities are asking that store-owners remain alert and take extra measures to secure their businesses.” Delmar let out a disgruntled grunt and turned to look at you.

“Hey kid,” he called, and you turned to look at him, “Can you keep a look out for customers? I need to make a call to the chips suppliers in the back.”

“Yes sir,” you replied with a nod, “Wait, what if they ask for cigarettes?”

“Give me a shout to ring them up, then.” He called back, already descending to the back of the store. A small huff left your body and you shoved the collected dirt from the floor into the streets of Queens. The skyline began to darken as the sun set, and you watched as the sky looked like a rainbow sorbet. Memories of late night drives with your older friends in California emerged from your memory, where you would sleep in the car to watch the sunset dip into the Pacific ocean waters. Even though you were on the other side of the country, the sunsets were still the same. Yet, for some reason, this one didn’t feel as homey as the ones back in California did.

Suddenly, a figure in a red mask covers your line of sight, and it makes you stumble back while letting out an embarrassing yelp.

“HEY THERE!” the red and blue clad figure announces excitingly, hanging upside down from the store’s awning, “Oh shoot! S-sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!” Once you recognized who it was, your lips broke out into a smile. Finally, someone you actually wanted to see today.

“Well, you did,” You said with a cheeky grin, “I thought you only sneak up on criminals, Spider-Man.”

“H-hey, I said I’m sorry,” he said apologetically, coming down right-side up, “I just thought you would’ve enjoyed it.”

“I’m messing with you,” You replied with a playful punch to his arm, “But next time, maybe a heads up before you greet someone bat-style. Do that to Delmar and the dude might get a heart attack.”

“Will do,” he replied, then looked over your shoulder, “Hey, where’s Delmar?”

“Out back making a call to a supplier,” You replied, ushering him inside the bodega, “You want a number five? Pickles and smushed really flat, right?”

“O-oh! Actually,I already had dinner,” Spider-man replied, his angular white lenses widening in surprise by your offer.

“Really?” You said, shrugging your shoulders, “You usually get that during this time. Are you cheating on Delmar’s place?”

“I could never!” He said motioning his arms into an x-sign, “If I ever betray the best sandwich shop in the world then throw me into jail.”

“I’ll remember that when I have to testify in court,” you teased, making your way to the counter. Murph, Delmar’s cat, sat next to the cashier upon his favorite cushion, purring loudly as the two approached him.

“Heya Murph!” Spider-man said, scratching behind the feline’s ears, “You doing good? Keeping Spider-man’s sandwich seller company?”

“Is that what you call me?” You asked, an amused smile spreading across your face, “I feel pretty honored by that title.” The masked hero of Queens let out a chuckle, and somehow hearing it made your ears turn pink. Then, a thought came to you that you expressed out loud.

“You know,” you began, still watching Spider-man give Murph some butt scratches, “You have the exact same order as someone I know.”

“R-really?” Spider-man stammered, retreating his hand from Murph in surprise. You looked at him, brows raised, “Aha...who is it?”

“Peter Parker,” You replied, deciding to rearrange the misplaced chips from the rack beside the counter, “‘Goes to my school.”

“Y-yeah, I remember you mentioning him a few times,” He said, his voice raising, which you noticed he does when he gets nervous, “He’s the one you don’t like?”

“Right,” You replied, not looking up from the rack, “Is it true that he works at Stark Industries?”

“Yeah, yeah! Of course he does!,” He replied, his voice going higher and cracking, “W-why do you ask?” He began to fiddle with his hands anxiously.

“Well,” You started, brushing your hands on your forest green apron, “My dad works there, but he never sees him.” Your dad was the head of International Affairs at Stark Industries. He mainly handled communication between Stark and companies they were planning on selling to. You didn’t know much about his job and you didn’t plan on it. You blamed the job from taking you away from your home, and your dad...well, you already had a complicated relationship with him. The move just made it much worse.

“R-really? Isn’t that weird,” Spider-man replies, rubbing his hand behind his neck, “W-well, I--Peter, doesn’t work with International Affairs. He works more with superhero stuff.”

“Like what?” You asked him, somewhat intrigued. You knew you were never going to find out from Peter personally, so might as well get the inside scoop from Spider-man himself.

“U-um…” His aperture-like eyes shift narrowly, seemingly unable to answer your question. Before you could press him further, you heard Delmar call out from the back of the store

“Hey kid! Your shift’s over!” Your Dominican boss announced. You look over to the counter to see him emerge from the back of the store.

“Best you go now since the streets are-” Delmar notices who is beside you and his eyes light up with glee.

“Ey, Hombre Araña!” Delmar exclaimed, smiling like he’s seeing an old friend, “Are you here for your usual? It’s on the house!”

“Hey Delmar,” Spider-man replies as he turns to him, waving to him, “N-no thanks, I just ate.”

“Hey, you better not cheat on me with Sub Heaven,” the middle-aged man jokes, waving his index finger at him, “I would know if you are.”

“Hey don’t worry, I’m loyal!” Spider-man replies with a laugh. Delmar chuckles then looks over to you, where you were looking at your favorite hero with a smile. He then turns back to look at Spider-man.

“Hey Spider-man,” He began, “Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Y-yeah?” the hero says, straightening himself up, “What’s up?”

“Can you give the kid a walk to the bus stop?” He asked, motioning his head towards you“It’s getting dark and with the recent news, I want to make sure they get to their stop safely.” You shot your head at Delmar, your smile falling as your eyes widened in shock. “D-Delmar! I-it’s fine!” You began, waving your hands frantically, “It’s just a ten minute walk to the stop-”

“Of course!” He replied almost too keenly, interrupting you,”I-I’d love to!” You looked back at Spider-man, surprised. Was he saying that just to be polite? You thought as your blush began creeping down to your cheeks.

Delmar gave him a hearty thanks and motioned you to come to the back to clock out. You did so in a haste, your thoughts going into key mash mode. This wasn’t the first time you’ve ever been alone with him---you’ve had several run-ins with the masked hero. Any person who was enamored by superheroes would be stoked to have him be their walking buddy.

However, he wasn’t just any superhero. To you, Spider-man meant so much more. This may or may not have something to do with you having a major crush on him ever since you met him in the summer of last year. After almost five months of seeing him practically weekly, you liked the feeling that you knew Spider-man. Yet, you were still unaware of who was behind the mask. With your crush developing harder and harder, the curiosity began to nip at you aggressively.

You clocked out from work and hung up your apron, then wished Delmar and Murph a buenas noches, as you headed towards the deli’s entrance door. You slung your backpack over your shoulders and noticed that Spider-man was waiting in the front of the store, waving hello to an excited child passing by across from the bodega. You brushed some of Murph’s cat hair off of you (your dad would throw a fit if he found cat hair in the house again) and straightened up, mentally calming yourself. You practically skipped up to Spider-man and told him that you were ready to go. He turns to you and gives you an eye (lense?) smile, and you two begin your way towards your stop.

During the first couple of minutes into the walk, you were in an argument with your thoughts on what you should talk about with Spider-man. It would’ve killed you if this ten minute walk was in silence! Thankfully, he began speaking.

“So,” He started, “Anything exciting happened to you today?” This. You thought, but obviously you would sucker punch yourself in the face if you said that out loud.

“Eh, not much,” you responded with a shrug, “Had a chemistry quiz today.”

“How’d it go?” he asked as he looked out, resting the back of his head atop his hands.

“Wonderfully,” you said sarcastically, looking down at your shoes, “Only completed three questions out of the ten on the quiz. At this rate I’m going to be the top student!” He looked over at you, watching as you kicked a piece of gravel with your foot. You let out a sad sigh.

“It’s my fault,” you continued, “I should’ve studied harder. But I just get so overwhelmed by the material I freak out and then when I freak out I get anxious and then when I get anxious I just can’t focus and when I can’t focus I don’t study!” You exhaled.

“Whoa, whoa, easy,” Spider-man says, motioning you to calm down, “Why don’t you ask someone for help on the subject? Like your teacher or a tutor?” You let out a dry laugh, remembering what Mr. Cobwell had said earlier.

“No teacher wants to deal with a student like me,” you replied, not looking up at him, “I don’t blame them, I would get frustrated when I have to repeat the same god damn thing a thousand times to someone who still can’t get it.”

“But it’s a teacher’s job to help students understand what they’re learning,” Spider-man said, “That’s the whole point!”

“I know,” you hang your head lower. God, you hated that he was right. “I just...it feels embarrassing,” you admitted, “Even asking help from a friend.” You began to pick at your fingernails, remembering MJ’s offer from earlier.

“And a tutor...well, I used to have one back home,” you said, and Spider-man watched you closely, “But my dad saw them as a waste of money so he took over. But he’s not the best tutor.” The memories of your dad trying to “help” you made you tense, and the emotions from earlier today started to creep back.

“I get where you’re coming from, in a way,” Spider-man replied, and you looked up at him, “When I first started out as Spider-man I insisted that I didn’t need anyone’s help. I felt guilty asking for help because I wanted to assume responsibility for something I felt was my problem.” His arms fell to his sides as he looked up, reminiscing.

“I didn’t want to drag the people I cared about the most into my problems,” he continued, “I didn’t want them to get hurt. But then it ended up...hurting someone I cared about the most.” You felt the weight of his words as he looked down.

“I couldn’t look at Ma-,” he stopped himself, “I mean my closest peers without feeling like it was all my fault. If I had only been honest about my feelings, I thought maybe things would’ve been different. ”

You watched the masked man, and you could tell that this anecdote was hard to bring up. People put super-heroes on such a high pedestal, seeing them as invincible people with nothing to lose. How forgetful they are that they have lives too, that they have dealt with hardships and flaws. From the tone and inflections of his voice, Spider-man sounded fairly young to you. Maybe he was your age, or maybe slightly older. You didn’t know if he was human or not, but you could imagine that getting these powers came at a price.

Everything comes at a price, you remembered your parents telling you. Nothing comes without consequence.

“Then things began to change when Mr. Stark recruited me,” he went on, “It was the best moment of my life. Finally, I thought, I could do something more and still protect those I care about. I felt like I was finally doing more.” He let out a dry chuckle.

“I became so confident that I could do more, and I even disobeyed Stark because I thought I didn’t need help,” you continued to listen in intently, “And it blew up in my face.”

“The point is,” He looks up at you, “Asking for help doesn’t mean you’re dumb or weak, it means that you’re strong enough to know when you need it. The words weighed on you, and you looked out, thoughtfully. Maybe he’s right, your consciousness spoke, But it still seems so...terrifying. You noticed that you were at your stop, but your bus was running a bit late.

“We’re here,” You spoke, pointing your thumb towards the green bench that was next to a bus stop pole.

“Ah,” Spider-man noticed this, and you both stopped walking. You both turned to each other.

“Thank you for walking me here,” you said, giving him a smile, “I appreciate it.” The masked boy rubbed the back of his neck again, seemingly bashful by your gratitude.

“H-hey, no problem,” he said shyly, “Got to look after civilians, after all.”

“Right,” you responded with a chuckle, tilting your head to the side with a raised brow.“‘The little guys’ Are we the munchkins of Oz and you’re Dorothy Gale?”

“Wh-what?!” Spider-man exclaimed, shaking his head, “N-no! That’s not what I-”

“I mean, you guys almost have the same color scheme,” You pressed on, amused by his reaction, “You just need the ruby slippers and you’re good to go.”

“H-hey,” he whined, shuffling his feet all embarrassed.

“Gosh,” you laughed, “For a diligent super-hero, you’re way too easy to tease.”

“A-am not,” He pouts as he crosses his arms, looking down at his shoes shyly.

“Oh my god,” you said, stifling a laugh, “You’re acting like my seven year old neighbor now.”

He looks up and gives you a glare, but then lets out a chuckle; a sound that warmed up your heart and your cheeks. The sound of the bus honking made you both look over to see it pulling into your stop. Darn it, you were having such a good time with him! You thought with a scowl. A disappointed sigh let your lips and you turned to look at your crush.

“Thanks again,” you said, giving him a shy smile, “Hopefully I’ll see you soon?”

“Y-yeah,” he said, almost sounding enamored by your smile, “G-get back home safely.”

“W-will do,” you stuttered back, forcing yourself to look at him even though you wanted to desperately hide the blush that was growing on your face.

“And (Y/N),” you looked up at him as he continued, “I-if you need me to walk with you again, d-don’t hesitate to holler at me.”

“O-oh n-no it’s okay!” You exclaimed, waving your hands dismissively, “I-I don’t want to take up your time!” Then, you watched as Spider-man took a step toward you, making your heart beat widely. Gently, he placed his arm atop your shoulder, and your body froze in shock.

“You,” he began, looking at you sincerely (or as sincerely as his lenses could make him look), “You never take up my time. I enjoy being with you.”

And at that moment, you felt your soul ready to rocket itself into the clouds from pure joy.

You wished you could stay like this, but the screeching of the bus’s brakes broke both of you out of the moment, and Spider-man retreated his hand from your shoulder.

“I-I, um,” he rubbed the back of his neck yet again, while you were still processing what just happened, “You better go.”

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, then forced your body to turn it’s heel and head toward the bus. You turned and gave Spider-man a small wave, to which he returned. You adjusted your backpack and headed inside, tapping your bus card and then quickly taking the nearest available seat. As the bus doors closed and began your hour long ride, you watched as Spider-man shot a web toward the nearest building, then swung into the night.

Wow, you thought as you placed your backpack atop your lap. That was all you could think. Wow.

The bus ride had been long and tedious, but soon you were walking up the footsteps towards your house in the quaint area of Maspeth, Queens. You opened the door and upon entering your two-story brick house you could hear the television from the living room. You glanced over and saw your mom and dad sitting in their designated lounge chairs across from the wide monitor that was displayed on the wall. It seems that they were watching one of those night time talk show hosts from New York.

“I’m home,” You announced, kicking your sneakers off of your feet as you shut the door behind you. Mom looked up and saw you.

“Welcome back, dear!” Your mom greeted you with a cheerful yet tired smile, “How was work?” You told her the same old thing you’ve said to her before (“It was okay, I’m just tired.”), though you opted to leave the bit about Spider-man out.

“Well, I’m glad you got home safely,” She says, “If you’re hungry I made some dinner.”

“Nah, I ate at Delmar’s,” You replied, quickly reminiscing on your number two sandwich from earlier. It wasn’t your usual, but you were going to lose it if Delmar nagged at you for having a number five every single night you worked. Upon hearing this, mom furrows her brows in disappointment.

“Eating all of those sandwiches isn’t healthy for you,” she comments, turning back to the television, “I don’t know how well sanitized that small place is, who knows what kind of chemicals are in those ingredients.” You bit back the urge to snap at her, because this isn’t the first time she made this dumbass claim.

“Did you have an exam today?” You heard your father’s low but stern voice come from the living room. He didn’t turn to look towards you.

“N-no,” you replied sheepishly, playing with your fingernails nervously, “Just a chemistry quiz.”

“I better see an A on that,” He coldly replied, and even from the house entrance you can feel his annoyance, “You have all this time to work on your damn art projects and working in that junkyard so I better see the same effort in your STEM classes.”

Your teeth clenched, feeling the ball of emotions form in your throat. Without saying a word, you headed upstairs, where you entered your bedroom and crashed head first into your unmade bed. A long breath you didn’t even realize you were holding escaped your body, muffled by your bed sheet. You got up and slipped off your backpack, then turned to take a look around your very messy room.

It’s been a while since you last cleaned up your space. The art table was littered with your current gouache paint project of a plant study, your art board was discarded near the end of your bed, the books on your shelves were completely disorganized, your desk had your biology notes scattered upon it, and you still had a unfinished sketched canvas of an ocean sunfish lying next to it. The sound of your mom nagging at you to keep it clean knocked at your brain, immediately making you annoyed.

Dreading the scolding that could be, you let out an exaggerated huff and began to organize your art table. Mid-way through putting your gouache tubes in their designated container, you remembered your mom passively commenting about how Peter Parker probably keeps his desk very tidy, and that’s why he’s doing so well in school.

The memory had you clenching your fists, annoyance from the memory returning. Even at home, you couldn't escape Peter Parker's presence, and that ticked you off more than anything in the world. Why couldn’t he just be a dumbass and leave it at that? No, he had to be a smart dumbass. How fucking annoying.

“Stupid Parker and his stupid perfection,” you mumbled angrily to yourself as you shoved the rest of your gouache tubs into the containers, “I hope I don’t have to deal with your stupid face forever.”

Tuesday had been an arguably much better day, and it was made better by the fact that you had art club after school.

You arrived at the art club meeting room, which was just the school’s art studio. Easel stands were climbed together at one end of the room, while several artworks of students were sprinkled across the room. You could smell the wet ceramic clay from the other side of the room, where several to-be finished artworks were bagged up to keep their wet form.

The wooden drawing horses were arranged in a semicircle, where they had already been occupied by your fellow art club members. In no time you were able to spot MJ, who was waving at you to notice her. Smiling, you scuttled on over to the unoccupied wooden seat next to her, place your backpack underneath. The both of you said your greeting even though you just had chemistry together.

“What do you think we’ll be doing today?” You asked her curiously.

“Dunno,” She responded, leaning back and crossing her arms, “This is my first time joining the school’s art club. This time last year I’d be in one of the rooms where they held detention and draw the sad people in there.” You looked off and nodded, seeming to get it.

“But,” she started, and you looked back at her, “If I had to guess, I think we’ll probably talk about the spring show. The arts department needs money anyways so auctioning off student work is usually a good way to bring in the dough.”

As if on cue, Ms. Narvaez, the newest art teacher at MSST and the club’s advisor, entered the studio. Everyone turned to greet her and she returned the greeting with a gentle yet tired smile.

“Afternoon, guys,” she greeted, placing her bag of materials on her desk at the corner of the room, “I’m glad to see that everyone came today because we have something really important to discuss.” She rummaged through her bag then pulled out her trusty yellow acrylic clipboard.

“In about a month we’ll be holding our annual spring art show,” she announced, heading to the front of the semi-circle so that everyone could see her, “We need to think of a theme for this show today, so we can print the fliers out as soon as possible and encourage the students at this school to participate. Last year we had a whopping fourteen people submit work, but it was all from you guys.” Everyone looked at each upon hearing this information.

“So,” she continued, “We need a good theme so we can bring in more submissions. More submissions could mean more auctioned-off art, which will lead to more funding for our department.” Everyone began to whisper to each other, though not very enthusiastically.

“Please take out a sheet of paper and write down any themes you have in mind, no matter the number,” said Ms. Narvaez, and everyone began to unzip their bags and grab their notebooks. MJ and you did the same, grabbing a notebook that you specifically had for ideas for art. You turned to the next blank page and began jotting down anything that came up in your mind.

Camouflage

Growth

Becoming

Home

Serenity

You were about to list another word when a knock alerted you and the rest of the art club. Everyone turned and you saw your guidance counselor, Ms. Lee, peeking from the entrance of the studio.

Uh oh. You thought. Guidance counselors making unannounced appearances was never a good sign in high school.

“Oh, Florence!” Ms. Narvaez smiles upon seeing her wife, “Do you need to speak to me?”

Ms. Lee smiled. “Hi dear,” she turned to meet your eyes, “Actually, I’m here for (Y/N).”

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

Annotations

* = STEM stands for Science Technology Engineering and Math

**= paletas are Mexican popsicles that you can get from men on the street pushing a ice cream cart full of them

Ms. Narvaez is based off of American actress Lauren Velez

Ms. Lee is based off of actress Sandra Oh

#bad ideas fic #spider-man x reader #peter parker x reader #mcu fanfiction #reader insert #spider-man reader insert #spiderman fics #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman x reader

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rocksandrobots · 5 years ago

Text

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 6 - The Beach

Saturday had come and Varian and the rest of his new friends were all crowded in Wasabi's car. Wasabi had precisely enough room to fit six people, though perhaps a bit uncomfortably. He and Varian rode in the front seat, with Varian carrying Ruddiger in his carrying cage, while Hiro, Gogo, Honey Lemon, and Fred were squished together in the back seat. The robot, Baymax, was folded up inside his battery pack and tucked away in the trunk to make room.

Apparently today was a holiday and they were all heading to the beach. Well in truth the actual holiday was on Monday, but Americans spent the whole weekend in celebration. Said holiday was Memorial Day and was meant to honor warriors who fell in battle. However, despite this somber origin, most considered the weekend to be the official start of summer and would mark the occasion with picnics, parties, and public swimming.

For Varian and his friends though, this was the end of spring break. Starting on Tuesday, the university they now all attended would open back up and the summer semester would begin. The thought of which sent Varian's stomach churning with butterflies. He'd never been to school before and didn't know what to expect. He was filled with anxious excitement and to calm his nerves he looked out the car window to admire the scenery.

He'd been in this strange new world for a week now but he'd had little chance to admire it. For the past five days he'd been busy studying for his entrance exams for college. Passing the 'graduation' test in particular was important for gaining admittance into the school and Varian had to do some serious cramming to prepare for it. Squeezing twelve years worth of educational knowledge into his brain in less than a week.

Fortunately Varian was very good at memorizing facts and all his new friends were on hand to help him. On Monday, Hiro had helped him gather up the study materials he'd needed and told him what to expect. Wasabi gave him practice tests throughout the week and helped him pinpoint the areas he was weakest in. He was pretty good with math and grasped most of the science quickly, with Wasabi being on hand to fill in the gaps, but he needed help in other less familiar subjects.

Gogo had swung by on Tuesday and spent the whole day giving Varian a crash course in Social Studies, which was a combination of history, geography, and civics.

Varian took a special interest in America's founding and it's chosen form of government, which was unlike anything he had heard of before. They had no king nor royalty of any kind. In fact the country was founded by people who committed treason and fought a war to overthrow their ruler, and who then put into place a democracy made up of elected representatives instead. It most closely resembled the government of ancient Rome, before Julius Caesar had taken over, but was expanded upon to encompass a vast kingdom, larger than even most empires.

Varian had already thought San Fansokyo was an impressively large city, but was completely flabbergasted to know that not only was it not the largest city in the country, it wasn't even the biggest within its own providence; and there were fifty of these states that stretched across the continent from coast to coast with similarly massive metropolises in each.

It was mind boggling and it took him sometime to wrap his brain around the concept. And that was just the tip of the iceberg, he also had to catch up with some four hundred odd years worth of world events on top of that. But Gogo was a patient teacher and she carefully broke down everything into manageable chunks, giving him timelines, charts, and maps for him to refer back to. By the end of the day he had perhaps learned more in those eight hours spent with her than he had in his whole sixteen years.

On Wednesday, Fred had showed up to help Varian practice for the writing portion of the tests. He would have to complete two essays on any given subject for each of the two exams. Fred himself had actually completed one of the same tests, the S.A.T, just a few months ago and knew what the graders were looking for when it came to such essays.

Mainly, they just wanted to know if Varian could follow the basic guidelines of writing; paragraphs and sentence structure, grammar, spelling, and his overall ability to form an argument on paper. All things Varian felt pretty comfortable with, but it was nevertheless a good refresher of those basics. Essay writing and thesis statements were apparently expected of any student attending higher education and he would have to write many during the course of his studies.

Thursday, Honey Lemon stopped by to help Varian with Language Arts. Both tests would cover reading comprehension and even more grammar. Once again Varian was pretty comfortable with those two subjects, especially given the writing practice from the day before, and so they finished pretty quickly. Even with Honey Lemon adding in extra information about various important books and plays that had been written in the past four centuries, just in case any of them made it into the reading part of the exam. Though Shakespeare was still deemed the most influential even in this modern age. A fact which disappointed Varian; he personally thought Marlowe to be superior to the bard.

"You don't even like Romeo and Juliet?" Honey Lemon asked aghast, "But it's sooo romantic."

"But it's sooo stupid," Varian mockingly admonished with a laugh. Which in turn made Honey Lemon give him a not-so-serious pout.

"Look, what was stopping them from just leaving together in the first place?" Varian explained his point.

Honey Lemon opened her mouth to retort back but just as soon closed it again; she had never considered that question before. She screwed up her mouth in thought as she searched for a better answer.

"Weeelll, sometimes it's hard to leave the only home you've ever known. Isn't that why you want to get back to your world?" She asked him.

Varian just stared at her for a moment, thinking of an answer to give that didn't allow him to explain his past in detail. Finally he said, "I wanna get back because my dad is there. I couldn’t care less about Corona itself."

"You don't care at all?"

"It's just a bunch of buildings." He mumbled with a shrug, then he added, more assuredly, "What matters is the people in your life."

"I guess," She replied, "all I know is that I had a hard enough time just leaving Sacramento. Even though it's only an hour and a half away and I can still see my family whenever. I can't imagine what it's like to be lost in a whole other world."

Varian ignored her attempts to sympathize, not because he didn't appreciate the effort, but because he was ready to move on from the conversation. Instead he shut his eyes tightly and tilted his head back, trying to recall some of the new information he had recently learned. "Sacramento; that's the capital of California, right?"

"Yeah. But don't worry, no one actually memorizes all fifty states and their capitals. I only know like twenty or so." She admitted.

"Oh, good." Varian breathed in relief. Soon both he and Honey Lemon were just giggling, happy to relieve the tension in the room.

"Oooh, you know what? I brought my make-up bag with me!" Honey Lemon suddenly exclaimed, and just like that all previous talk about literature and writing gave away to other subjects, mostly chemistry.

Honey Lemon made her own cosmetics. It was a passion of hers to find new, safe, and 'biodegradable' chemical compounds to replace some of the more toxic stuff on the market.

"And absolutely no animal testing." She added in all seriousness.

She even sold her wares over the internet, shipping them to customers as they ordered them, as a means of making money on the side.

She poured out the contents of a rather large tote bag onto the floor and walked Varian through each item, what it was for, and how she had made it. Varian listened intently and even tried some of the stuff himself.

He found he didn’t care much for lipstick nor cakey foundation, the texture was off putting to him. He also didn’t like anything with a heavy perfume. However, he did like the eyeliner and the black fingernail polish he had previously bought. He was still fascinated by the concept of synthesized polymers.

They were both sitting on the floor, makeup strewn everywhere, laughing over nothing in particular, when Wasabi came home from his part-time job. Honey Lemon was in the middle of applying mascara to Varian’s eyes and he was trying his best not to blink but failing at it, which only sent both of them into more fits of giggles. Meanwhile, unnoticed by them both, Ruddgier had gotten into the powered blush and was making a mess in another corner of the room.

“I thought you two were studying.” Wasabi said with a hint of annoyance to his voice. He was tired from work and none too happy to find makeup scattered about his dorm room.

“Sorry,” Honey Lemon tried to say through her laughter, “but we finished early and I’d promise to teach Varian how to paint his nails.” Varian held up his hand to show Wasabi his newly painted nails as a way of response.

“That’s nice.” Wasabi replied back in a sarcastic tone. “Did you also teach the raccoon how to put on foundation?”

That’s when they both finally noticed Ruddiger. Varian got onto his pet and went to clean up the mess, effectively ending the study/make-up session.

The next day, Wasabi gave him two final practice tests and then it was time for him to take the real thing. He met Professor Granville at the school and, alongside a few other hopeful students, took the two tests.

The first test, the S.A.T., went smoothly, but he wouldn’t know his actual scores until his answer sheet and essay were sent off to be graded. The graduation test however was taken over the computer and it took several hours to complete with a few breaks between parts. He felt he could have finished sooner had he had the chance to take the test using a pencil and paper instead, as he found the mouse and keyboard awkward. But the positive thing about using the new technology was that he got his scores back sooner. He managed to pass all the parts, even with him just barely scraping by on the Social Studies section. His official certification would come in the mail, the professor told him, but for all intents and purposes he now had a high school diploma.

Which was apparently a big deal in this world. Earning a diploma was considered to be something of a rite of passage. Obtaining one meant you were ready to start entering the adult world and with it you could gain full time employment or seek higher education, like college. According to his friends, he should’ve been extra proud of this accomplishment since gaining a high school diploma at his age, while not unheard of, was unusual, and he had done it in less than a week when most took years to achieve it.

To signify just how important this was, all his new friends threw him a party at the Lucky Cat. Even Aunt Cass had pitched in and made him a special dinner. It was something called ‘sushi’ and she typically prepared it for celebrations like this one; having cooked similar dinners for both Tadashi and Hiro when they had graduated high school as well.

Varian was appreciative of her efforts, though he didn’t quite know what to make of the food itself. The ‘sushi’ consisted mostly of rice topped with raw fish wrapped in seaweed. The taste wasn’t bad but the texture of the uncooked seafood was weird to Varian. Fortunately, not everything was raw. There were different kinds to be had and Varian was able to pick out some that he did enjoy; ones stuffed with crab, egg, or just veggies. He especially liked the ‘dessert sushi’ made with tropical fruit.

He’d just finished recalling last night, when Wasabi loudly proclaimed, “We're here!”

There were whoops and joyous yells in response from the various passengers and Varian looked out the front windshield to see the familiar blue streak that was the ocean just up ahead. Wasabi parked the car in the designated parking lot and then they all piled out of said vehicle and made their way down to the beachfront.

The sandy beach was tucked in between two rocky cliffs and you had to walk down a wooden stairway to get to it. As he made his way down the stairwell, Varian could look out and see the expanse of dark blue ocean and lighter blue sky go on forever. It didn't look much different from Corona's coast. What did look different were the inhabitants. Corona's coastline was usually deserted save for the ports and the occasional fishing boat off in the distance, but here the beach was a mass of half naked bodies and swarms of vacationers enjoying the summer sun. Spread out along the sandy tolls were towels, blankets, folding chairs, and umbrellas of all sizes with scantily clad people lounging upon or underneath.

Varian tried to remember Gogo's words from a week ago, about how this was deemed normal and not to bring himself to attention by starring. But everywhere Varian looked he was met with the sight of a lovely lady's long legs or a handsome lad's toned chest. Not looking was very much like asking a small child in a pastry shop to hold their nose and ignore the sweet smells of pies and cakes surrounding them. Fortunately, he was able to keep his composure long enough for them to reach the shore and find a spot to set up camp for the day; managing not to hold his gaze for too long on any one person or thing.

They had brought a variety of towels and folding chairs of their own, along with a large parasol and ice chest full of food and drink for the day. Varian and Wasabi had spent that morning making sandwiches for everyone; tuna fish salad, sliced cucumbers with butter, jam mixed with a spread made from ground nuts, and some sort of mystery meat called 'baloney' paired with cheese. Varian couldn't figure out if said baloney was made from ham or chicken, as it didn't really taste like either, though it also didn't taste bad per-say. They also stored small bags of crispy fried potatoes, individually wrapped miniature cakes, and bottles of some sort of fizzy drink called 'soda' in the chest as well. Varian found the carbonated sugary drink to be odd but surprisingly tasty.

While everyone was setting up Hiro unpacked Baymax from his portable charger, the robot inflated to full size again before stepping out, and Varian released Ruddiger from his carrier. The raccoon was grateful to be let out of the small cage at last and promptly snuggled up on one of the folding chairs under the sun to catnap. Varian didn't think the leash necessary as there really wasn't any place for his pet to run off to.

Once done with setting up, the gang then proceeded to unpack the various toys and games they had brought along as well. There was a game you played with a net, like tennis, only you used your hands to pass a 'volleyball' over said net instead of a racket and you didn't want the larger ball to touch the ground at any point. They also brought a flat discus called a 'frisbee' which you threw from person to person. Gogo had with her a flat wooden board used to ride the waves that broke along the shore. Which she let Varian and her other friends try out for themselves.

Varian however was not very good at any of these new sports. While he was fairly athletic, capable of running, climbing, and whatnot, he had never been the best at coordination. More often than not he'd simply trip and fall in his efforts to keep up with the ball or maintain his balance on the surfboard.

Instead Varian found himself wandering off occasionally to try and strike up conversations with new people. He'd hadn't had a lot of social interaction while growing up, especially with others his age, and he wanted some practice before he started school in a few days. Hopefully to ease the awkwardness of being dumped in a world that he knew next to nothing about.

However every time he'd smile at a pretty girl or make eye contact with a cute boy his age, his efforts to make small talk were sabotaged by some mishap or other. Either his own clumsiness would get in the way or he'd put his foot in mouth, as the saying goes. One particularly unfortunate incident involved him getting beaned in the back of the head from a misthrown volleyball while trying to chat up a couple of vacationing teens. Fortunately, his embarrassing failures at flirting would be followed by one of his new friends trying to engage him with some other activity so he was never left alone with his awkwardness for long.

Swimming, sand castle building, more games; like 'chicken', where you tried to push one person off another person's shoulders into the water, or 'Marco Polo' where one person had to find the others with their eyes closed, using the ancient explorer's name as a call and response, digging for seashells, and other similar actives were to be had to pass the time away.

Finally, the sun started to hang low in the sky and they all headed back to the car. They were wet, tired and covered in sand. They tried to knock the irritating substance off their shoes and things before all squeezing back into the ill fitting vehicle in order to head back home. They all sat on towels so as not to get the seats wet and their bathing suits and cover up clothes all clung to them dripping with sea water.

Varian sat again in the front seat, only this time Honey Lemon had asked to hold Ruddiger on the ride back. She, Gogo, Fred, and Hiro were all fast asleep in the backseat with Baymax once again tucked away in his battery case. Wasabi had the radio on in order to keep himself awake as he drove (and to drown out Honey Lemon's snoring if he was being honest). The music that filtered out of the speakers was called 'classical' music, which just meant it was mostly orchestral music from ages past. To Varian it sounded very modern and sophisticated to his ears, like chamber music played for royal courts, not the more rustic folk music he grew up on.

Right now a gentle suite with piano and strings was playing and it along with the steady motion of the car moving was beginning to lull Varian to sleep as well. He looked out again at the houses and scenery that passed by and thought of the day's events and the fun he had had as his eyes grew heavy. This world was so much more inviting and nicer than his own, it was a shame he'd have to leave it soon, but his Dad needed him and that was that. And with that final resolve Varian drifted off to dreamland.

youtube

#varian #tangled the series #BH6 the series #Hiro Hamada #Honey lemon #ruddiger #Wasabi #GoGo #Fred Frederickson IV #rapunzel's tangled adventure

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peter-x-harley-cat · 5 years ago

Text

15 Things Harley Learned About Peter Paker

YES, still thirty-five minutes left. (I really liked writing this and I want to expand on it, but let’s see what y’all think.)

WC: 1556

Summary: There’s a new kid in Rose Hill and Harley tries to learn all he can about him.

Prompt: Rose Hill, Tennessee

There was a new kid in Rose Hill.

Now, normally Harley didn’t get caught up in the normal gossip that everyone in this small town was so inclined to, but even he couldn’t help but be intrigued. Two weeks before the second semester started, he learned three things about the new kid.

1: He came from New York City.

2: He was living with his aunt.

3: He was Harley’s age.

No matter how much he dug around and bribed and persuaded, that’s all he could get about him.

A week before the semester started, though, he learned three more things.

4: He was really cute.

5: He was really smart.

6: He was (suspected to be) bisexual.

Number four was discovered when he walked into the garage Harley worked at and Harley lost all motor skills.

Number five was learned when Harley talked to while his boss was talking to his aunt.

Number five was discovered when Harley worked on the car and found the pride flag.

***

Harley had been fixing the car in record time when he heard a bang come from somewhere in the shop. He slid out from under the vehicle to see a boy with light brown hair and wide hazel eyes. He was nearly submerged in the hoodie he was wearing and he had an embarrassed look on his face. Harley gaped at him.

“Uh, sorry?”, the boy offered, showing a small smile. Harley had to physically shake himself to get a response.

“Um, no problem”, he assured, standing up.”What can I help you with?”

“Oh, my aunt is already talking to the mechanic, I was just looking around”, the boy said.

Harley raised an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t go walking around in here. Lots of dangerous equipment.”

The boy smirked at him. “Brake lathes and strut compressors are nothing I haven’t handled before. Talk to me when you’re handling Digoxin and Tabon in large quantities.”

“Ok, first of all, you can’t compare chemicals to machinery”, Harled argued. “Second of all, why would a high schooler be handling those chemicals?”

The boy just shrugged. “I had a pretty good internship back in New York.”

“Shame you had to leave it, then”, Harley said and immediately regretted it when the boy’s grin dipped into a frown. He was trying to find a way to fix it when his phone buzzed.

“I have to go”, the boy said, Harley probably imagining the disappointment in his voice. He looked up at Harley and smiled and Harley momentarily forgot everything. “See you around.”

Harley waved awkwardly as he left before his boss called him to bring the car into the shop. As he was pulling it in, he noticed a bisexual flag sticker on the dash. Huh.

***

The first day back to school, two more things were added to Harley’s ever-growing list of facts.

7: His name was Peter Parker.

8: He stands up for others.

Number seven occurred when he walked into Harley’s first period, effectively knocking Harley’s routine off-kilter.

Number eight happened at the end of the school day when he and a bunch of guys encountered them in the courtyard.

***

“Class, I’d like to introduce you to Peter Parker.”

Harley’s head shot up at that and, yep, it was the cute guy from a week ago. The boy--Peter--turned to face the class, what seemed to be his usual smile on his face. He looked all glowy and half the girls in the class were looking at him like they wanted to kiss him senseless. The idea made Harley feel weird.

Harley seemed to have missed the part where Peter was introducing himself because suddenly the brunette was sitting at the desk next to him and flashing him a smile. Harley had a hard time focusing on History after that.

He found that almost all his classes were with Peter, seeing as they were both already at least college level. And the boy sat next to Harley in every single one, not that Harley minded. He was walking out of the school when Peter ran up to him.

“So, you got anything planned for the robotics project?”, he asked. Harley smiled at him from the side of his eye and was about to answer when he was stopped in his tracks. Literally.

He looked up from the hand on his chest to see the captain of the baseball team and a few of his yes-men standing in front of him.

“Careful around Keener, Parker”, the captain said, still looking at Harley. “His queerness might rub off on you.”

Harley rolled his eyes and was about to make a sarcastic comment that would undoubtedly get a fist swung in his direction, but Peter spoke up first.

“Thanks, but I’m afraid your warning came too late”, He said, stepping slightly in front of Harley and giving the group a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I started identifying as bisexual in seventh grade.”

The boys looked disgusted and backed up a bit. They looked like they were about to insult them, so Harley cut them off.

“Look, I’m sure whatever homophobic thing you’re going to say is very enlightening and original, but we have a robotics project to ace”, with that, he grabbed Peter’s hand and started pulling him toward his house.

***

The next five things Harley learned about Peter came over the weeks that they spent together.

9: He had two best friends named Ned and MJ.

10: He preferred Star Wars to Star Trek.

11: Before moving to Rose Hill, he had never left Brooklyn.

12: He planned on going to NYU for college.

In turn, Harley told Peter a lot about himself. He told him about his sister Diana, how he had started working at the machine shop, how he had been outed in sixth grade, and how he planned on going to MIT. They spent most of their waking hours together, so many that people started to think they were dating.

“Why don’t we?”, Peter had muttered when Harley had commented on it. Harley had gaped at him.

“What?”

Peter had flushed deeply and ran off, saying something about talking to a teacher. Harley had felt slightly disappointed as he ran away, but he forgot about the interaction when he had to take a test next period. They didn’t talk about it.

They talked about everything else, though, which led to his thirteenth thing on his list:

13: Peter’s hands were warm.

***

The two boys had been sitting on the roof of Harley’s shed. They had been watching the stars since Peter had off-handily commented that he had never been stargazing without immense amounts of light pollution. Harley had been determined to rectify that. They had been laying there in silence for a while when Peter spoke up.

“What happened to your dad?”

Harley sucked in a breath before sighing it all out. “He left. When I was seven.”

“I’m sorry”, he said. Harley listened for the undertone of pity, but it never came.

“What happened to your parents?”, Harley eventually got up the courage to ask.

Peter was quiet for a while and Harley was afraid he had overstepped when he said, “They died. Car accident, about a year ago.”

“I’m sorry”, Harley repeated softly. Peter didn’t say anything, but he felt a hand touch his. Harley grabbed it and Peter slowly intertwined their fingers.

They laid there until the sun started to rise, hands intertwined and hearts beating in sync.

***

It was almost the end of the school year by the time Harley learned his two final things. They had spent five months together, even spending spring break working in Harley’s shed. They had just gotten done with state testing and they were at Peter’s Aunt’s house. When they got to his room, Peter promptly fell into his bed and screamed into the pillow. Harley could understand.

Harley threw his bag down and jumped into the bed beside him, half landing on the other boy.

“Wanna watch Star Wars?”, Harley asked, staring up at the ceiling. It was almost summer and the heat would make it hard to spend hours in his shed or the repair shop. He was drinking in all the air-conditioned air he could.

Peter shook his head before turning toward Harley. Harley let his head fall to the side and the two just watched each other.

“Hey, Harley?”, Peter whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Will you kiss me?”

Harley didn’t know if it was the heat shutting down his cognitive function, the state testing turning his brain to mush or the five months they had been dancing around each other, but he wasn’t surprised by the question. Instead of answering, though, he just leaned in and pressed his lips to Peter’s.

Harley had imagined kissing Peter countless of times, but this was nothing like that. He’d thought of fireworks and shooting stars, but that wasn’t them. It was the feeling you got when a broken car rumbled back to life, of talking all through the night, of watching the sunrise because they were both working instead of sleeping. It was two broken pieces coming together to form a complete whole.

The two things Harley learned about Peter that day was as follows:

14: He was Harley’s soulmate.

15: He was a really good kisser

#parkner week 2019 #parkner #spiderlad

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bangtan-gal · 5 years ago

Text

Ghost of a Memory

Kim Woojin x Fem!Reader

Telepathy + Necromancy

Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, some awkward parts, a lot of point of view changing, woojin’s character is debatable, dubious consent? Some lies and suspicious stuff

Word count: 9k

Woojin x Fem! Reader Powers!AU

X = Woojin’s POV

+ = Y/N’s POV

A/N: So I decided to split his story into parts, because it is a little longer and I’m struggling a little bit with some plots. I’m not gonna put a specific part for part two, but hopefully in a week or two

Mother nature was truly cruel. The sun was high in the sky, not a single cloud in sight. A light breeze ruffled the long dress around your legs and it smelled of fresh rain. Your grandmother’s favorite weather that she hadn’t gotten to enjoy in the last six months of her life.

The long black dress you wore was heavy and itchy, and a sweat started to drip down the back of your neck. You stood beside your grandfather, a bouquet of lilies and baby breath clutched in your hands. He was stone, his mind somewhere else, completely unaware of what was happening.

You watched in silence as the men threw dirt onto her coffin, the perfect promise that it was completely over. Your body heaved as you let out a sigh. You loved your grandmother; she had practically raised you because her daughter was too incompetent to do so, but for some reason you couldn’t find it in yourself to cry. But your heart ached and the emotions that swirled inside you were far from bright.

“Y/N, do you have any final words?” Your uncle called to you. You blinked, glancing up at him and then towards where the simple black wood case was disappearing. There was nothing that came to mind, just a terrifying blankness. Another sigh left you and you shook your head.

You were always positive, even in the darkest of times. So even now, with your favorite person gone, there wasn’t very much negatives. You knew that you would be able to smile easily in a couple of days.

Your uncle ended the funeral with a soft prayer and then everyone stepped forward to place their flowers down. You waited till everyone else had gone and then slowly made your way towards the gravestone.

Y/GM/N Y/L/N

August 19th 2002-May 31st 2080

A lasting memory that we shall forever cherish

You bent down, leaning the bouquet against the stone. You ran a hand over the stone, a nervous string of words escaping you. Your mind decided that now was a good time to crash, to not allow you to have a proper string of thoughts. You wanted to say something to send your grandmother on her way—but what was there to say? The breeze picked up around you, sending debris flying and your hair whipped around your face. A soft scream whistled between the trees and you stood up, backing away. You wandered a ways off and leaned back against a tree, closing your eyes and trying to collect your thoughts.

It wasn’t just today that your brain was completely scrambled. It was almost always messed up, struggling to connect memories and words together, sometimes completely shutting down all together. Something had happened, that everyone else around you seemed to know except you. There had been pitying stares, nervous glances, and quiet murmurs for the past few months—and along with that your mind has been a mess. There were some good days and you were hoping that today would be one, but it decided against it.

You turned back around, gaze wandering over the few people that were still there. A flash of blue caught your attention and someone that you’d never seen before, but you swear you knew, stood there. He was tall and well-built. Just like everyone, he wore all black, but his purply-blue stuck out like a sore thumb. He stood alone, staring bitterly at the grave.

You didn’t know why, but something, something inside you refused to leave him alone. Who was this guy? Why was he here? Did he know your grandparents? You fumbled over the uneven ground, holding your dress up and making sure you didn’t step on a grave. He didn’t notice you approach, his eyes glazed over as emotions whirled over his face.

“Excuse me?”

He blinked and shook his head, glancing over at you. His eyes widen—which had the strangest lavender hue to them—and dark eyebrows raise. He coughed and when he looked back at you, his face was completely indifferent. You tilted your head, having to lean back to look up at him.

You smiled, hoping to look more welcoming. “I’ve never seen you before… how do you know my grandmother?” “My parents used to live next to them a couple years back. They’d come over for dinner a lot,” he said softly. “My parents couldn’t make it so I’m going in their place.”

You nodded, your smile brightening. “You’re the Kims’ son?”

He laughed, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Woojin,” he murmured, reaching out a hand. You accepted the handshake, struggling to meet his gaze as his eyes looked everywhere except you. Suddenly, there was a flash of black and a spray of water. You stumbled a little and blinked rapidly, confused where the image came from. When you glanced around, everything was the same and no one else seemed to notice it.

A memory?

“Y/N.”

The two of you stood in silence, both of you disappearing into your own worlds. There was a soft caress at the back of your head and you absentmindedly scratched at it. It didn’t go away, but you chose to ignore it. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Woojin staring at you. Choosing to ignore it, you stretched out your arms and let out a quiet yawn.

“Have we met before?” You asked out of the blue, the question bothering you. Woojin stiffened beside you, refusing to meet your gaze as he shook his head. You frowned. “Are you sure? I mean—maybe you just look like your parents, but even then I only met your parents once—but you just… you’re not a new person.”

The man shrugged, ruffling his dyed-hair. Then he shook his head again, something like a snort escaping him. You frowned, watching as Woojin played with his jacket and then his gaze looked up towards the cloudless sky. Sunlight ran along his face, showing off his tan skin and sharp jawline.

“We’ve never met before.” His tone was stern as he said the words, but his eyes refused to meet yours. Then he reached into his pocket, pulling out a red envelope and handing it to you. “This is for your grandfather.”

He nodded his goodbye as he turned around and walked away. You stared, mouth open as he sauntered away. The envelope was heavy in your hands and you glanced down at it, running your hand over the rectangle. The wind still as you stood there, watching the mysterious, blue-haired man disappear.

++++++

It took several weeks, but you eventually forgot about the stranger at your grandmother’s funeral. You forced yourself back into the way of life, working at shelters, volunteering at schools, and helping out around the house.

The sun had just rose and the sky still had a pink hue to it as you sat at the table. You stared at the newspaper in dismay, fingers running along the text. Another school had been burned down three days ago and for the first time, it wasn’t an act from Miroh. There had been no drawing of a tiger anywhere on the building and the way it was performed showed that it clearly wasn’t by a “professional.”

You and a couple of your friends had arranged a fundraiser in order to get education to the kids that went there and hopefully get a school back up in a year. The clock read 6:54 AM and you sighed, getting up to make yourself a pot of coffee. The tile was cold on your bare feet and there was a glistening of frost on the windows.

Cold crept up your body and with a grumble, you pulled your jacket tighter around you. One of the aftermath effects from The Collapse had caused the weather to constantly change. One day it could be sunny and blazing hot, the next a frigid, cloud-filled day. It made it nearly impossible to naturally grow produce and most were either chemically made or grown in rows of greenhouses.

The coffee finished brewing and you happily poured yourself a cup before you pulled on your socks and slipped into your boots. You were met by a brisk wind when you stepped outside and you groaned as you watched a cluster of leaves roll across your lawn. All you wanted was a couple of warm days, especially for an event like this. How were you expected to make any money if no one would want to even leave their house? You hopped onto your bike and ducked your head down as you went against the harsh breeze. You called hello to your neighbor, Mr. Kinyong, stopped for a moment to give your old newspapers to an older lady who needed them to burn for warmth, and promised to help a young kid with her guitar later on.

The bike ride took you thirty minutes, since you lived on the far outskirts of District 9. You had grown up in JYP district, but when your father passed away and your mother decided that raising you was no longer worth it, you moved in with your grandparents. You had to say that 9 was much different from JYP—you typically got the second-hand crops that were grown in the bigger districts and you didn’t get to enjoy the luxury of meat or milk as much as you used to. You didn’t realize how much trouble the people were living in until you joined them. It had taken you several months to get used to the harshness of the area, the food rationing, and the sicknesses that filled the air.

You turned into the park, your hair whipping around your face. The stage and banners were already set up and your friends moved around, shouting orders at one another and struggling to get tables and chairs in place. You lurched to a stop and hopped off, pulling your jacket tighter to yourself as you made your way towards Chan-ri.

“Y/N!” She chirped, waving you over. “You’re late!”

You rolled your eyes and flicked her forehead.

“I apologize that I don’t have a car,” you grumbled, rubbing at your arms. You questioned how you were supposed to sing if it was nearly impossible to talk properly. Cold burned your anatomy and heavy jacket and gloves you wore did nothing to help. She giggled, pinching your cheek, and then turning to the two boys who were helping her set up the speakers.

“Don’t worry, all we have to do is a soundcheck and then you perform at ten,” she replied. “Hey! You idiots, don’t put it on the slanted grass! Put it on the cement!”

Her screech had you flinching. She exhaled and covered her face for a moment while she collected herself. You shoved your hands into your pockets and glanced around. The park was still empty, but the event didn’t start until nine. You pulled your hair up and then turned to Chan-ri with a grin, forcing yourself into the right mindset, because today couldn't go wrong.

You were pleasantly surprised by the amount of people that showed up. People milled about, checking out the small shops you had set up. You stood beside the stage, holding a guitar tightly in your hands. Nerves zinged through your body and you felt your confidence starting to crumble at the idea of having to perform that in front of everyone.

Chan-ri and Lucas both shot you a thumbs up from where they stood, the two looking like proud parents as they grinned at you. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at them, even though a small smile tugged at your lips. They announced your performance and you slowly made your way up the stairs.

You introduced yourself, smiling nervous to see a hundreds of pairs of eyes staring at you. You pulled the guitar strap over your shoulder and quickly started plucking a few chords. You glanced up one more time before closing your eyes and letting yourself fall into your own world. The words were easy to recite—they’d been something you’d been singing since you were a young teen.

With each song, with each round of applause, your heart started to feel lighter. By the time you were on your last word, you were able to smile throughout the song and actually meet the gazes of the few people in the crowd. As you strummed the last chord, your eyes landed on a familiar floof of blue hair.

You stood up really fast, sending the chair behind you skittering. You ignored it as you hurried off the stage, shoving the guitar at Lucas as he came to congratulate. No () way that this guy was here. You shoved past people, your heart racing as you hurried to find him. It was impossible for you to explain why you were so desperate to see him, but so many questions filled your mind and you couldn’t leave it alone.

“Woojin!” You shouted when you saw his back moving away from you.

The man froze, his shoulders hunching as he turned around to glance at you. Disbelief ran over his face as you marched towards him, a semi-grin on your face and hands clutched at your sides as you tried to fight off the cold. You stopped in front of him, tilting your head back to stare at him. A dry chuckle left him.

“Of course you’re here.”

You grimaced.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You mumbled, crossing your arms. Cold continued to pick along your skin and you really wanted your gloves back in that moment.

He shrugged. “I guess it’s just unfortunate that we ran into each other again.”

Your mouth dropped open and you flubbered for a moment, trying to find something to say. Woojin started to turn around again and you quickly reached out, trying to grab for his jacket sleeve, but instead your hand grasped his. For a small moment, you were only able to note how perfectly your small hand fit in his large one. Then you blinked, a blush spreading along your face as you awkwardly took your hand away.

Woojin’s eyes were wide for a millisecond before he managed to cool his expression. He cleared his throat, eyes darting everywhere, and you noticed the red that started to color his ears. You held your hands tightly together and shivered, glancing down at your feet.

“Well, for one,” you started. “That was rude, and number two, could you like… not run from me?”

He searched your face with a sigh and then his gaze landed on your red hands. Woojin licked his lips and then reached out, clasping your hands in his and rubbing them together. If your face was red before, it was probably sparking now. You let him vigorously rub your hands together and graciously accepted the warmth that spread through your body because of it. You tried to ignore how he didn’t let go of your hands after rubbing them and met his gaze, your teeth digging into your lip as you awaited his response.

“I’m not a coward—I don’t run from people,” he stated, narrowing his eyes at you. You grinned, the memory of your “grumpy” teddy bear from your childhood coming to mind. Woojin frowned and you coughed in a weak attempt to cover up your laugh.

“You kind of ran from me that day. I mean, you offered no explanation and then just ran away like someone was chasing you with a torch,” you commented.

Silence stretched out between the two of you. Woojin finally seemed to notice that he was still holding your hands and quickly took his hands back, pressing them to his chest. You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and glanced around. People milled about around you, some sending questioning stares your way.

Then you squared your shoulders and looked back at him.

“Fine, if you’re really not a coward, you’ll go to coffee with me after this,” you said, raising your chin. Woojin tilted his head and then smiled and a flutter filled your chest.

“Fine,” he agreed.

“Fine.”

“Fine.

“Okay then!”

“Okay.”

“Awesome.”

“Fantastic.”

“Lovely.” “Wonderful.” You pouted.

“Magical.”

“Majestic.”

“Cool.”

“Chill.”

“Great.” “Good.”

“Y/N, can you come help me with the painting station, please?” Lucas called. You glanced over your shoulder and then back at Woojin. You pointed a somewhat threatening finger at him. “This isn’t over and you better come find me after this, because if you don’t: you’re clearly a chicken!” You threatened and then ran off to help Lucas.

“Got yourself a date?” The boy teased, poking at your cheek. You swatted him away, sending a glare his way and then made your way towards the paint-stand, where Marie stood, covered in paint.

You sighed and then couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up when you saw her absolutely furious look. Marie was a short girl, with skinny arms and legs, and always had the brightest smile on her face. Seeing the way her fists clenched at her sides and her eyebrows lowered was absolutely hilarious.

You grabbed a rag and helped her wipe off her face and struggled to get the paint out of her hair. She complained the whole time that she shouldn’t have been left there alone, because most thirteen-year-old boys are too rambunctious for their own good and taller than her. Marie was an easy target and teenagers would make a mess out of anything they didn’t have to clean up.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “Chan-ri will find them and give them a scolding they’ll never forget.”

You glanced over your shoulder, eyes searching through the crowd for a shock of blue hair. There was none. Something bitter burned in your stomach and you exhaled, making your way back towards the stage to grab your gloves and jacket. You pulled them on and zipped the jacket up to your chin.

You spent the rest of the afternoon helping people who wished to donate and then cleaning up the stands and putting away equipment. As people started to leave and the groups dwindled, you looked around once more, only to come up short-handed. Your shoulders drooped and you back to struggling with the speakers. Eventually a couple of the boys—the ones that actually knew what they were doing—ushered you away and took it down.

The others invited you out to dinner, but you declined and bid them goodbye as you swung your leg onto the bike. The bitter weather bit at your skin the whole ride home and by the time you stepped inside, your cheeks and nose were completely red. You threw off your jacket and slid from your boots, sighing at the warmth of the house.

You were greeted by your grandfather who sat at the dining table, reading over the daily news. His eyes were brighter than usual and when he looked up to you, his smile wasn’t hesitant or confused. The nurse was clinking away in the kitchen and you saw a flash of blonde hair as you glanced around the corner.

“Hi Pops… are you feeling better?” You greeted, bowing your head. He nodded and then glanced down at the paper. He rubbed at his gray eyebrow, blue eyes narrowing as he stared at the page.

“How’d the fundraiser go?” “We made just enough,” you sighed and sat down across from him. You drummed your fingers on the table, glancing around the empty dining room. “I think it’s so weird how not many people donated… I mean, you’d think they’d want to revive one of the only schools we have?” The old man nodded in agreement and then yawned. He set the paper aside and then glanced up at you. His lips quirked to one side and then he shrugged. You pursed your lips and leaned back, already prepared for the answer that he would give you.

“With all these gangs starting territory fights and deciding that schools are the best way to show their superiority, people are much too scared to send their precious little ones there, even if it means it will better them off in the future. Most people won’t even leave their house nowadays and I can’t blame them. None of those gangs have a stable mind and they do whatever they wish,” he remarked, glancing towards the kitchen. Tina stepped out with two cups of tea, setting them down. You stared down at the light brown liquid and then looked up to watch the steam disappear into the air. “You think people really want to put their money into something that could only cause more danger and lives and for it to probably be destroyed once more in the future? The majority of the community now believes they’re better off putting their money into a bunker or into transport passes. They hear all about the huge, grand districts that are far safer and have better education, food, clothing, and other materials.

“They aren’t thinking of their future here; they’re thinking of their future elsewhere.”

The room went quiet as your grandfather reached for his tea and took a quiet sip. If he was off put by the lack of honey, milk, or sugar, he didn’t show it. Of course, he hadn’t grown up like you had—with the luxuries of products like that. You could never drink tea plain, no matter how hard you tried, because at the end of the day: tea was just dead leaves soaked in water. If there were leaves on the ground outside, all you’d have to do is crunch them up, and just fucking dump them into some hot water.

You opened your mouth and then grit your teeth, loudly breathing out. You thanked Tina for the tea as you picked up the cup and disappeared to your room. The second you closed the door, you dumped the liquid into your plant and then sat down on your bed. Whenever your grandparents brought up any of the big districts, you always felt like they were mocking you for the life you used to lead. But did they expect you to just dump your childhood down the faucet? It was fifteen years of your life that you spent with ease—you loved your parents, your friends, your lifestyle—and although you loved your grandparents now, it would never be quite the same.

Your gaze flitted towards the rectangular mirror that leaned up against the white, chipped walls. You scrunched up your nose and then forced yourself to smile. It looked crazy. You dropped back, staring at the ceiling and thinking of how much better this day could’ve gone. The fundraiser could’ve made hundreds of thousands more dollars, enough to not only rebuild the school, but put actual security in it.

Woojin could’ve stayed and you could’ve avoided this depressing place for a little while longer.

You shook the thought from your head and then grabbed your notebook. The paper was thick and rough beneath your fingers as you continued to flip through all the used pages. There were a million images and phrases among the lines, revealing the fragments of memories and nightmares that were burned into your mind’s eye. You spent the rest of the night in your room, absentmindedly sketching images in the book and you didn’t realize that you’d drawn Woojin’s face before you fell asleep.

+++++++ You woke up late the next morning, groaning as you lift your head from you arm. There was a kink in your neck from the weird angle you slept in and your legs hurt since you slept in your jeans. Your arms stretched above your head as you yawned.

You took a quick shower and changed. When you got downstairs, you found that your grandfather had gone out to play bingo and that Tina got the day off. You threw the note in the trash can and went to make yourself a cup of coffee. Exhaustion pulled at you and when you had looked at yourself in the mirror, there were noticeably dark circles under your eyes.

No coffee.

“Dammit,” you grumbled, running a hand through your hair. A part of you—the logical part—knew that you shouldn’t be tired because you got more than enough sleep. But the part of you that always craved the morning drink, with or without milk, refused to take no as an answer.

You bit your thumb nail and then decided that you may as well go grab a cup of coffee and then meet up with a couple of friends. It was as if yesterday hadn’t happened; there wasn’t a cloud in sight and when you stepped out, the sweater you wore was too much. You quickly ran inside to change, grabbed a pair of sunglasses, and headed out.

Deciding against taking your bike, you started your stroll down the sidewalk. Mr. Kinyong was already out, watering his wife’s plants. You smiled, thinking of just how loyal and dedicated the man was—his wife was in the hospital with cancer and he had promised her that when she came back, all her plants would be top-notch, no matter what the weather decides to do.

As you got closer to town and the houses turned into condos, you were stopped by a car rolling up beside you. Your shoulders stiffened and you glanced at the car—a sleek, black sports car—eyes narrowing at the tinted windows. The passenger’s side rolled down and you were met by lavender ish eyes and a teddy-bear-like face. His hair was gelled back, his shoulders accented by a fitted leather jacket, and you could’ve sworn his cheeks were contoured.

“I promised you coffee”—somebody behind him honked— “so here I am to fulfill that.”

You crossed your arms, silently questioning how the man had found you. But then all the questions you had, the vague memories, the oddity of him showing up out of the blue, and the familiarity of him came back. Who cared if he was a stalker? Maybe you could get all your answers before he took you to his spooky lair and slaughtered you like some sacrificial lamb.

So, with a careless shrug, you opened the door and slid in. If the car looked nice from the outside, then it looked amazing on the inside. The seats were a custom white leather, along with the steering wheel, and everything was smooth and shiny. There were a million different buttons and dials on the dashboard and you didn’t even know how to use half of them. It reminded you of your late father’s car, although his hadn’t been that nice.

You expected him to drive straight towards the coffee shop you were heading towards, but instead he took a sharp left and started deeper into the city. You didn’t question him, instead you leaned your head back against the window, studying him. From his hair that was a mix of light blue, soft gray, and a deepish-purple to his sharp-jawline and puffy lips. What was it about him that was so familiar? In truth, he looked nothing like either of his parents (or at least what you could remember of his parents) his face was too unique to just see on anyone. It also didn’t explain the gut feeling that this man could help solve whatever happened a couple of months ago. Whatever had left your memory and was sending bits and pieces of something ominous.

You finally glanced out the window and saw that you were in the real city—with all the expensive stores and nice restaurants. Or at least the very few that District 9 had. He pulled up against the sidewalk and you watched, mesmerized, as he stepped out and ran a hand through his hair. The sun hit him just right and gave his face a sharp look.

You slid out of the car and followed behind him as he led you into a coffee shop. You expected to be blown away by the smell of coffee like your usual coffee shop, but instead there was a mix of breads, sweets, and the smallest, perfect tinge of coffee. It wasn’t anything like the worn down brick building and instead was fresh and bright. Potted plants line the windows, the floor was a shining gray, the tables white and blue, and overall had a very welcoming feel to it.

“Wow,” you praised as the two of you made your way towards the register. Woojin ordered a mocha of some sort along with a pasty and then turned to you. You finally looked up at the menu and your mouth dropped open. “Um”—you licked your lips—“isn’t this a little expensive?”

“Are you paying?” He observed.

You opened your mouth and then shook your head. You ended up ordering an iced americano along with a muffin and then awkwardly followed Woojin to a table. You mindlessly played with the napkin on the table, trying to arrange the questions you had. There were so many and part of you didn’t know where to start.

The silence was fixed when the girl came by with your orders and set them down. She sent the both of you nervous smiles before she hurried back to the register. You quickly took a sip of the coffee, not realizing the breathy moan you let out at the taste until you glanced up. Woojin stared at you, not a single expression in sight, but you could almost sense the shock.

“Sorry, this is just… it just reminds me of what I used to drink a while back,” you remarked.

Then he sighed.

“Let’s just get this over with, all right? I know you have questions and I’ll answer them as best as I can,” he murmured, eyes meeting yours over his cup, “but I can’t make any promises, because based on what you’ve asked already—I can’t really help you.”

You took another sip from your coffee, deciding to enjoy it before this conversation took a perilous turn.

“Who are you?”

Woojin bit on his finger, his gaze drifting towards the window. You glanced that way too, watching as cars zoomed past and as people strut past, wearing clothes that you could never imagine wearing. You bit your lip and glanced back towards Woojin, watching as he absentmindedly played with the loose strands of his hair. What was it about him?

“I told you, Kim Woojin. My parents were your grandparents neighbors a couple years ago. What else do you want to know? I’m a psychology major, my best friend is named Chris, I live with eight other boys in the Deep City, I’m twenty-two, and I drive a sports car,” Woojin stated. He tilted his head at you, still playing with his hair as he talked. You pursed your lips, getting a weird sense that he was hiding something.

“No—why? Why go to the funeral in your parents’ place at all? You never once met my grandparents—I would know because I went to every dinner that we had with the Kims—and even then, my grandparents and your parents weren’t that close. Actually, you wanna know something? I know every single person that was invited and there were no ‘Kims’ at all on the list. We didn’t even inform them; so how the hell did you find out?

“Oh, and that red envelope? Yeah, I’m a nosy person, but I’m still respectful. I didn’t open it, but it felt too heavy to just be some card. Personally, I don’t believe you’re their son, but I didn’t look into it.

“But all of that leads to just one questions: why the hell were you there?” You finished your rant with a huff and leaned back in your chair. You took a slow sip from you drink, letting the straw fall from your lips with a ‘pop!’.

The man stopped playing with his hair, his lips parting as he blinked at you. You could see the questions and worries that ran through his eyes. You rested your elbow on the table and leaned your face against the hand. The lost look on his face was too adorable.

“Look, I know I seem innocent and gullible, but there’s something not right with you,” you hummed, “and personally, when someone I recognize but can’t put a name to shows up after that incident, especially on my grandma’s funeral with a suspicious card, I can’t help but wonder if you have something to do with my recent mind problems. Actually—I know you do, because your eyes haunt my dreams. You’re the only person that I’ve ever met with those eyes: they’re too unique to belong to more than one person.”

You sighed, picking a chocolate chip from your muffin and tossing it in your mouth. You couldn’t meet his stare, so instead you watching the way his jaw ticked. A mental clock was ticking in your head as you awaited for something to blow up. Luck was on your side so far, your brain was actually keeping up and allowed you to keep your thoughts in order.

As an afterthought, you added: “unless, of course, those are contacts.”

Woojin let out a loud breath.

“Look, no, we weren’t invited to the funeral. But, my aunt worked at the hospital your grandma was in before she passed. It was mentioned during our family reunion last week and my parents wanted to come, but couldn’t. They figured the best way to give their condolences and get the letter to your family was to send me,” he claimed, no longer playing with his hands as he steadily met your gaze. “I suck at socializing, not gonna lie, but I am truly sorry for your loss Y/N. As for ‘seeing my eyes in your dreams’... that’s creepy and you’re probably just experiencing deja vu. You wanna know how many people have said that about my eyes? A lot—it’s typically unique things that we think we’ve seen before instead of common things.”

You opened your mouth but he held up a finger.

“I don’t know why you recognize me and I don’t know what happened to you, but I can’t help with whatever it was. I’m really sorry Y/N… but we have no past life together.”

Woojin stood up, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on. You opened your mouth in shock and then shut it. With a groan, you stood up and followed him out.

The ride back to your home was silently nerve-wracking. Neither of you said a single word and you just stared out the window the whole time. He dropped you off on the same corner he found you and when you got out, you turned around to just stare at him. You really wished that he was lying in the coffee shop, but you didn’t feel like he was. He wasn’t nervous when he said anything and he looked into your eyes with such… sincerity.

“Thanks for the ride.”

He nodded and the second you closed the door, Woojin zoomed away.

xxxxxxxx

He couldn’t stop his heart from racing as he hurried up the stairs. How could you know? How the hell did you even remotely remember? Woojin knew he did a good job, he’d picked through every last part of your mind and covered each part carefully. No one before you had been able to break past it—so why you of all people?

He stumbled into the living room, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants. Chan lay on the couch, arm draped over his eyes and his hair a mess. Woojin sighed and then made his way to stand in front of his leader.

“Chan”—he threw a pillow at the man—“I need to talk to you about something.”

He removed his arm, raising a lazy eyebrow at him. Dark circles were still under his eyes and his skin was extremely pale. Woojin frowned, not having to read the man’s mind to know exactly what he was doing last night. Chan groaned, grabbing the pillow that was thrown at him and chucking it at Woojin’s head.

“What?” He huffed, struggling to sit up.

“She remembers me Chan—”

“Shit.”

“—which means memories of that time might come back and she’ll remember all of us. She might remember what she saw and then…” Woojin trailed off, burying his head in hands. How could he have let this happen? Maybe if he just never showed up at the funeral that day, this wouldn’t have happened. For all he know, him seeing you was the trigger. He would be so screwed if the rest of the dust was blown away, because you would have too much information.

“You just couldn’t stay away, could you?”

Woojin glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing at Minho as the boy stepped in. Hyunjin followed in after him, hands shoved in his pockets and new scratches and bruises covering his body. Woojin glanced back at Chan, shrugging in apology. He… he couldn’t just not check up on you—you were technically his problem ever since that incident.

Woojin watched as Chan’s eyes darted past him, to Hyunjin. He hated the fact that he even looked to the younger boy, because he knew exactly what was running through his leader’s head. Woojin shook his head desperately, trying to think of some other solution than to send their hellhound after you.‘Chan, please don’t—that won’t solve any problems.’ The man glanced up at him, his tongue running over his lips as he closed his eyes.

“Woojin, we can’t do much else,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Plus, it’s not like we haven’t used this solution before. There’s been several times where you were the one who ordered it; hasn’t there?”

Woojin winced.

“Chan, please don’t,” he murmured, “let me try to fix it before you send him after her.”

A quiet blanket settled over the four of them. Woojin refused to let his eyes wander from Chan, despite feeling Minho’s harsh glare on him and the loud sounds of Hyunjin’s thoughts pulling at his ability. Y/N was his mission and he couldn’t let it fail just because the girl had some weird one in a million moment. He didn’t know why the memory loss trick was failing, but he was sure that he could fix it if Chan just gave him time.

Time was all he needed.

“Fine, Woojin: a month. I’ll give you a month and if it’s not fixed, she’ll never be seen again.”

He pulled up in front of the house, hands gripped tightly on the steering wheel. The majority of the lights were turned off, minus the kitchen and the porch. Woojin groaned and let his head fall forward for a small moment, questioning exactly what he was supposed to do, but his answer was handed to him moments later.

Somebody rapped on the window of the passenger seat. He glanced up, quickly recognizing Y/N’s grandfather. The window rolled down and the old man leaned forward, bushy eyebrows lowering as he stared at the younger man before him. Woojin blinked, pressing his lips together as he tried to think of an excuse.

“Why are you back here boy?” The man’s voice was raspy and sent chills down his back. There was always something off about the Y/L/N family and he could never pick up on it. He wondered if there was a reason that Y/N managed to push past the brain fog.

“Sir… you remember our agreement, right?”

All he got was a nod.

“You see here… the exercise I performed on her is wearing off and I need to put it back in place, permanently this time. You… you know what will happen if she remembers any of it,” he mumbled. His eyes darted downwards, something cold washing through his body.

The man sighed, scratching at the side of his nose. “Boy—damn—well you may as well come in. She’s sleeping.”

Woojin stepped out of the car, quickly adjusting his jacket. Walking into the house was weird because of everything that had been covered up. Splotches of red flashed before his eyes and he could hear the distant screams in the back of his mind. The memories were shoved back and he let Y/GF/N lead him to your room.

You were fast asleep when he stepped inside, soft snores escaping you. You slept on your stomach, face buried into your arm, and blankets wrapped tightly around your body. The peace there was almost ironic considering the situation. Your room was the same as he remembered—everything still in place and the white slowly peeling from the walls. Small and simple.

Woojin knelt down beside Y/N, brushing his hand down your arm. You didn’t stir. Then he sighed, painfully closing his eyes as he pressed his fingers to your head. There was a moment of stillness—of pure nothing—before the world bounced and he felt your thoughts drift into his mind. He saw glimpses of your dream; nothing too crazy, just simple images floating around.

He pushed past it all, aiming for the chains and locks that were over boxes. He glanced over them, expecting to see cracks of some sort: expecting there to be some sign as to why you were remembering everything, but there was… nothing? All six boxes were still secure, no cracks, no broken chains, and locks tight. How were the glimpses getting out? Was your mind somehow able to pry them open and peek inside? Was that why you could vaguely recognize him and were aware that something was missing?

Woojin pulled back, glancing around. He was always fascinated by people’s minds, he could never control the imagery of how thoughts and memories were stored, it was always by the person. Your mind was simple—the same layout he’d seen multiple times in plenty other minds. Doors and boxes, some shut tightly, others peeked open, and some wide open.

He searched through the ones he could get to, trying to see if he could find those fragments. Woojin wasn’t sure what to do if the boxes were still secure. Could he try to paint a person in your mind to explain his eyes? Put fake memories in to fill the void? He breathed out and was prepared to leave when something stopped him. Your dream started to fill his mind and though he tried to push back against it, it was too strong.

Woojin stood there, watching curiously. There you stood, in a field, surrounded by flowers and long grass. There was nothing in sight for miles and you looked into the wind, your Y/H/C hair flowing behind you. A soft smile was painted on your face and your eyes were focused on something.

Him.

Shock rippled through him as he watched his own self approach you. He looked the same… yet different. Happier maybe. The two stood side by side, shoulders brushing and fingers knocking against one another. His dream self reached out, intertwining their fingers and pulled Y/N closer to him. A soft giggle escaped the girl and you buried your face in his chest.

“I love you,” he spoke, his voice—well, it was exactly his.

You ran your hands along his shoulder.

“I love you, too.”

Woojin blinked and gasped, stumbling back from you in real life. He stared at your sleeping form, watching as you stretched out and then rolled onto your side. A blush was spreading over your cheeks. How-why-what?

He quickly got up and left the room, cheeks and ears bright red from the confession. Your grandfather greeted him, eyebrows raised. Woojin pursed his lips and nodded, trying to pretend like everything was fine. Something skeptical ran over the older man’s face and then he shrugged, deciding that it wasn’t worth the argument. Woojin silently bid him goodbye and then hurried over, sitting in the car for a moment.

His heart raced and his hands were sweaty and his face: why was his face so warm? Why was he smiling so much? It was just a dream, for all he knew, you didn’t really feel that why. But for some reason, it still got to him and his heart.

++++++++ Sometimes you truly wondered how cruel life could be. You sat on the stone cold bench, hands buried in your hair, hiccups and sobs falling from you. You stared at the ground, watching as your tears fell and sparkled along the cement. Goosebumps ran along your skin and the sun was slowly sinking in the horizon.

First the universe had taken your grandmother, then it figured it may as well take your grandfather. You pinched your eyes shut, sobs wracking your body. You remembered it all so clearly: you’d been the one to find him, convulsing on the floor, the whites of his eyes visible, and spittle dripping from his mouth. You’d raced to the phone, sobbing as you tried to explain the situation to the man on the phone and just begging them to get there soon.

And so, you’d sat there, hand wrapped tightly around his and repeatedly telling him that he’d be okay. Then you saw the light die from his eyes, your tears momentarily stopping and breath freezing. He’d stopped moving and the house went dead silent: but it was only for a few seconds. Your screams had filled the house as you’d backed up against the wall, tears running down your face and eyes pinched shut. Your nails had dug crescents into your arms and the paramedics had dragged you from the house when they arrived.

You weren’t sure if they gave you a sedative or if you’d just passed out, but you woke up in your own bed hours later. Tina had been there, sitting at the kitchen table, dried tears on her face. Out of pure rage and fresh misery, you’d lunged at her, screaming about how it was her fault. How if she’d been there, he still could’ve been alive because she knew what she was doing.

She’d called the authorities and they’d arrived, restraining you as you cussed her out and threw threats her way. Eventually, you’d tired out and you went back to your room. You’d spent several days there, just staring at the wall and questioning why the universe let that happen. Lucas, Marie, and Chan-ri had stopped by, trying to get you to eat and talking softly to you until you begged them to leave.

Today was the first day you finally managed to leave the house. You were pale, your hair was a mess, and people didn’t have to look closely to see the dark circles under your eyes. You’d left the second the funeral was over and had wandered aimlessly until you found a secluded bench to just let yourself out.

The wind was harsh as you sat there, forcing yourself to calm down. You sniffled into your sleeve and then wiped at your eyes. Another sob escaped as you tried to look up and then you broke down all over again, pulling your knees up and letting yourself melt into a ball. The only family you really had left now was your mother, who you hadn’t seen in over four years.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes narrowed when you glanced up. Woojin stood there, a teen boy with red hair standing beside him. You hadn’t seen the man for three weeks and seeing his face only seemed to tear at your heart even more. The memory in your dreams was just never enough. Your hand came up to cover your face as you hiccuped. If only the ground would swallow you whole and just let you disappear somewhere warm. Woojin exchanged a glance with the boy and he walked away, leaving you alone with the lavender-eyed man.

“Are you okay?” He whispered, kneeling down in front of you. His large hand found yours and wrapped tightly around it. The affection was odd, coming from someone so cut-off as him, but then the memory of the fundraiser came to your mind. Gosh, he truly did seem to be a teddy bear.

You wanted to nod, you wanted to be able so say that you were at least okay but that was far from the truth. You felt a million miles away from being remotely “okay”. Everyone was slowly leaving and soon you would be alone in this terrible, dark place. And so, you shook your head and shamelessly let the tears fall.

You weren’t sure what he was doing until you were completely pulled into his arms. You curled into a ball as the man scooped you up, holding you tightly against his solid chest. He started walking and you let your eyes shut as you just sobbed into his shirt. Who cared where he was taking you? At this point, you didn’t want to be anywhere.

The walk was long and Woojin still carried you, his arms not even drooping in the slightest. You were both silent, even your own sobs had grown quiet.

“Do you have the key to your house?”

You finally looked out from the cocoon of the man’s arms. Dread filled you as you stared at the house in front of you. Either way, you reached into your pocket and fished out the key ring, softly telling him it was the silver one. Your eyes flitted across his face as he struggled to open the door and then stumbled into your house.

As if he knew the house, he made his way through the hallway and stepped into your room. Woojin was careful as he set you down, running a hand through your hair. He smiled at you, but the sympathy that lingered in the depths of his eyes ruined it. The blanket was pulled over you and you lay there, staring mindlessly at the ceiling. It was the sounds of his footsteps that had you glancing his way.

“Please don’t leave me here,” you insist, starting to sit up. The blue-haired man glanced at you, teeth digging into his lip as questions ran through his eyes. Finally, making up a decision, he slid out of his shoes and jacket. The floor creaked as he walked back towards the bed and slid into the other side. He pulled the blanket over him and his hand found yours under the blanket, giving it a tight squeeze to confirm that he would stay.

Woojin leaned towards you until his face was just inches away. His breath fanned over your face and he stared at you, a deep sadness lingering in his eyes. You squeezed his hand back and curled up closer to him. A soft kiss was pressed to your forehead, your cheek, and then the corner of your mouth.

The next words that were whispered into the dimly lit room were left unanswered.

“I promise it’ll be okay, Y/N. I’ll make sure of it.”

It was extremely warm when you woke up. You grumbled, scratching at your nose as you stretched out in bed. It took moments for you to finally wake up and then you noticed it: the face that was buried into your neck and the arm that was lazily thrown over your waist. Your eyes widened as you glanced behind you, seeing the messy blue-hair behind you. You quickly looked away, staring at the wall in front of you and trying to force the blush on your face to disappear.

You managed to slide from his grip and you sat on the edge of the bed, vaguely remembering what led up to this. A soft exhale escaped the man behind you. He rolled over in his sleep and you watched as his hand searched the other side of the bed. You snorted and then looked away, a bitter feeling rushing through you.

You’re still alone.

The carpet was cold on your feet as you moved through the house. It was nearly noon and you sighed, turning on the coffee machine. You looked out the window, watching as the trees waved obnoxiously in the wind. The house was silent for another few moments before Woojin appeared, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes and his hair a mess. His clothes were rumpled, but as he stood in the kitchen, he looked like a prince.

He tilted his head at you.

“You had a nightmare last night, didn’t you?” He stated.

You pressed your lips together.

“Maybe.”

A soft breath escaped the man as he stepped up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your waist. His hair tickled your cheek. You avoided his curious stare. Then he pulled back, running a warm hand down your arm.

“I have something to take care of and then I’ll be right back,” he whispered. You didn’t reply, letting the man leave.

And then once you were sure he was gone, you broke down.

You slid to the floor, pressing your face into your hands and just letting the wall fall. You sobbed and hiccupped, your shoulders heaving and body shaking. It was all such a mess. Last night, your mind plagued you with one thing: your world was being torn apart at the seams. And nobody could keep up to sew it back together.

Reality truly was a cruel thing to come for the innocent. You’d lived your life to the best you could—always trying to help others, never arguing, and forcing a smile no matter what. But yet, here you were, alone in a house that was too big, surrounded by your own faults. Your hands shook as you pulled them away from your face and just stared.

Loneliness is the true test for humanity.

117 notes · View notes

hazardville · 5 years ago

Text

Fuck You Facebook

So, in case anyone’s seeing this without coming here from my Facebook: Facebook removed this post because it was flagged as spam. I’m preserving it here because this information should be shared and Facebook’s attempts to obscure the sharing of health information should be condemned, widely and publicly. Enjoy. This is a long post addressing two underlying issues with the current response to the pandemic that leave me concerned. It’s the longest post I’ve ever written. The Medium version of this post (link below) has been viewed 1.2M in less than the last 24 hours as of 3/17/20. For those of you not taking action, or believing the pandemic to be “over hyped”, you can make fun of me as much as you want now or when this is over. You can make me the subject of memes and post it everywhere. I will pose for the picture. I am not trying to convince you, but I do feel compelled to share information that I deem critical to all of us, which is why I am posting this at all. WHY YOU SHOULD TAKE 5 MINUTES TO READ AND CONSIDER THE INFORMATION I AM SHARING: As of 3/15/20 at 9 am PST this post has been shared over 50k times since it was posted 2 days ago. So a lot of people find value in the post and although it's a long read, I believe you will find this information valuable too. For those of you who don’t know me well, I am analytical and metered. I don’t freak out nor do I respond emotionally. I also don’t post a bunch of bullshit or political or controversial stuff on Facebook. I founded and am CEO of a successful software company that provides SaaS based data, analytics, and dashboards to recruiting departments at companies we all know. As you would expect, I am data driven and fact based. Before founding my company I held executive roles leading very large recruiting teams at some of the world's fastest growing companies such as Starbucks and Google. At Google I was fortunate enough to report to Sheryl Sandberg before she took the Facebook COO role. I was a Chemical Engineering major in college and have a business degree from a top undergraduate business school. I am not one for hyperbole or histrionics. My bullshit factor is close to zero. I share all this personal information only to help solidify that this post may be worth reading and sharing with others. I would encourage you to forward or share this post at your discretion. Many people do not understand what is happening with the pandemic to the degree required which is why I took the time to write this and share this on Facebook. Now that I've gotten the introduction out of the way, here are two issues I want to bring to everyone’s attention. ISSUE ONE: SOCIAL NORMS ARE POWERFUL MOTIVATORS AND GETTING IN THE WAY OF PEOPLE TAKING THE RIGHT STEPS IN RESPONSE TO THE PANDEMIC: One of the current problems with addressing the pandemic is the social pressures of taking action today. It's awkward, and feels like an over-reaction. The reason it feels like an overreaction is that most people OVERWEIGHT the currently reported cases and inherently UNDERWEIGHT the mathematics of how the virus is spreading and what will happen in about 30 days time. This is because our brains tend to think linearly as opposed to logarithmically. It’s the same reason many people don’t save for retirement or understand compound interest. To create a new social norm, human beings like to see behavior modeled. This serves as a signal that says, “oh, someone else is doing it so I should do it also.” SO HERE IS A SOCIAL BENCHMARK FOR REFERENCE - THIS IS WHAT I’VE DONE FOR MY FAMILY TO DATE: I have already isolated my family. We have canceled EVERYTHING. We have canceled previously scheduled doctor visits. Social get togethers. No play dates. Normal routine meetings. Everything has been canceled. It's difficult and socially awkward. Some of you think I’m crazy, but I’m doing it not because I am afraid, but because I am good at math (more on that in part 2). I had to have my 16 year old daughter quit her job coaching junior gymnasts at the local gym, with one day’s notice and also tell my kids they can't attend youth group at church. Both of those were tough discussions. I told a very close friend he shouldn’t stay at my house this weekend even though he was planning to and had booked his flight from the Bay Area. I canceled another dear friend’s visit for later this month to go snowboarding on Mt Bachelor. We are not eating out. Our kids are already doing online school so we don’t have to make changes there. I would not send my kids to school even if they were in public or private school. We have eliminated all non-essential contact with other people. We will only venture out to grocery shop when required. We will still go outside to parks, go mountain biking, hiking, and recreate to keep ourselves sane and do other things as a family, just not with other people. We have stocked up on food and have a supply for ~2 months. We have stocked up on other goods that if depleted would create hardship, like medicines and feminine hygiene products. We have planned for shortages of essential items. THE REASON I HAVE CHOSEN THIS ROUTE FOR MY FAMILY IS MULTI FACETED: 1. Although my family is considered low risk (I’m 49 in good health, Angi is 46 and in good health, and our kids are 14 and 16), we must assume that the healthcare system cannot help us, because the hospitals will become overwhelmed very quickly. Most American hospitals will become overwhelmed in approximately 30 days unless something changes. More on this in part 2 below. So although we are in great health and unlikely to become gravely ill, the risk is greater if you do not have access to the medical care that you need. This is something for everyone to consider. As a society we are accustomed to having access to the best medical care available. Our medical system will be overwhelmed unless we practice social distancing at scale. That said, the medical teams in Italy are seeing an alarming number of cases from people in their 40s and 50s. Triage tents are already going up in the parking lots at many hospitals close to the epicenters in the United States. 2. It’s not a matter of if social distancing will take place, it’s a matter of when. This is because social distancing is the only way to stop the virus today. As I will explain in part 2 below, starting now is FAR more effective than starting even 2 days from now or tomorrow. This has been proven by Italy and China (and soon to be France and other European countries who have been slow to respond.) [updated as of 3/14 France is now on lockdown mandated by the government]. Wuhan went on lockdown after roughly 400 cases were identified (and they had access to testing that America has systematically failed to do well to date). The US already has more than 4 times this number of known infected cases as Wuhan did when it was shut down, and our citizens are far more mobile and therefore spreading the virus more broadly when compared to Wuhan. Yet our response is tepid at best. If hand washing and “being smart” were sufficient Italy would not be in crisis. So I pray the draconian measures are coming from our government, because they are required to stop the spread of the virus. It’s better to start sooner than later as the cost is actually far greater if we wait. I pray they close all schools and non-essential services the way that Italy and China have done. 3. Spreading the virus puts those in the high-risk category at much greater risk. This is the moral argument. It’s a strong argument because there are only two ways, as of today, that the virus can be stopped: let it run its course and infect 100s of millions of people, or social distancing. There is no other way today. If you don’t practice social distancing, people downstream from you that you transmit the virus to will die, and many will suffer. 4. The risk of infection is increasing exponentially, because the quantity of infected people, most who will not show symptoms, is doubling every three days. So the longer you wait to self-isolate, the greater the chance of you or someone you love becoming infected and then you infecting others because more of the population is becoming infected. There are twice as many infected people today as there was on Tuesday. 5. The virus is already in your town. It’s everywhere. Cases are typically only discovered when someone gets sick enough to seek medical attention. This is important as it typically takes ~5 days to START showing ANY symptoms. Here’s the math: For every known case there are approximately 50 unknown cases. This is because if I become sick, I infect several people today, and they infect a few people each tomorrow (as do I), and the total count of infected people doubles every 3 days until I get so sick I get hospitalized or get tested and become a “known case”. But in the time it takes me to figure out I am sick 50 others downline from me now have the virus. So every third day the infection rate doubles until I get so sick that I realize I have the virus an am hospitalized or otherwise tested. Harvard and Massachusetts General Hospital estimate that there are 50x more infections than known infections as reported (citation below). The implication of this is that the virus is already “everywhere” and spreading regardless if your city has zero, few or many reported cases. So instead of the 1573 reported known cases today there are likely 78,650 cases, at least, in the United States. Which will double to 157,300 by this Sunday. And this will double to 314,600 cases by this coming Wednesday. So in less than 1 week the number of total infected in the United States will quadruple. This is the nature of exponential math. It’s actually unfortunate that we are publishing the figures for known cases as it diverts attention away from more important numbers (like the range of estimated actual cases). [Update as of 3/15/20 - I've been sent more research that may add clarity to the ACTUAL cases vs CONFIRMED cases and will update this post with any conclusions] 6. Some people cannot, or will not, practice social distancing for a variety of reasons and will continue to spread the virus to many people. So everyone else must start today. The reasons above are why I have begun to practice social distancing. It’s not easy. But you should do it too. The hospitals will be at capacity and there are not enough ventilators. You will hear a lot about this issue in the coming few weeks... the shortage of ventilators. ISSUE TWO: MANY PEOPLE ARE FOCUSED ON THE WRONG NUMBERS: Yes, the virus only kills a small percentage of those afflicted. Yes, the flu kills 10s of thousands of people annually. Yes, 80% of people will experience lightweight symptoms with COVID19. Yes the mortality rate of COVID19 is relatively low (1-2%). All of this true, but is immaterial. They are the wrong numbers to focus on... The nature of exponential math is that the infection rates start slowly, and then goes off like a bomb and overwhelms the hospitals. You will understand this math clearly in the next section if you do the short math exercise. Evergreen hospital in Seattle is already in triage. I have heard credible reports from people on the ground that they are already becoming overwhelmed. And the bomb won't really go off for a few more days. Probably by Wednesday, March 18th (next week). In just a few days from now we will hear grave reports from Seattle hospitals. [update as of 3/15/20 - see the comments section below for an update from a staff member at Evergreen Hospital in Kirkland, WA] You should assume the virus is everywhere at this point, even if you have no confirmed cases in your area. YOU SHOULD DO THIS SIMPLE 2 MINUTE MATH EXERCISE (NO REALLY TAKE TWO MINUTES AND DO IT): To further understand exponential growth, take the number of confirmed cases in your area and multiply by 10 (or 50 if you believe Harvard and Massachusetts General estimations) to account for the cases that are not yet confirmed. If you have no confirmed cases choose a small number. I’d suggest 10 cases in your city, if no cases are yet reported. But you can use whatever number you like. This number of infected people doubles every ~3 days as the infection spreads. So literally take your number, and multiply by 2. Then do it again. Then do it again. Then do it again. Do this multiplication exercise 10 times in total. 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x (the number of estimated infections in your city today (not just the reported cases)). This result is the estimate for the actual cases in your area 30 days from now. The math will take 30 seconds to complete with a calculator and it’s worth doing the math to see how it grows. This end number is the number of cases in your city 30 days from today if a large percentage of the population do not practice social distancing. 2 to the 10th power is 1024. When something doubles 10 times, it's the same as multiplying by 1024. The infection rate of the virus doubles every 3 days. In thirty days there will be 1,024 times the number of infected people in your area as there is today if your community does not immediately put social distancing into practice. One thousand and twenty four times as many infected people as there is today, in just 30 days. Next, divide the final number (the scary big one) you just calculated by the current population of your city and you will be able to get the percentage of people THAT YOU KNOW PERSONALLY who will be infected 30 days from now. Next take 15% (multiply by 0.15) of that final 30 day number of total infected people (the number you calculated by multiplying by 2 ten times). This will provide an estimate of the serious cases which will require hospitalization, and compare it to the number of beds and ventilators available at your local hospital. Google the "number of beds" and the name of your local hospital now. It takes 2 seconds and the number of beds is easy to find. 65% of beds are already occupied by patients unrelated to the coronavirus. St Charles in Bend, Oregon where I live, has 226 beds and the town is roughly 100,000 people. Most hospitals have on average, 40 or fewer ventilators. 5% of patients require ICU treatment. There are very few ICU beds compared to regular beds in hospitals. There are very few negative pressure areas in any hospital to deal with the containment of airborne diseases. These numbers you just calculated are the Big Problem: Too many patients, not enough beds, and a serious shortage of ventilators (the biggest problem) if we don't immediately begin social distancing. More on this biggest problem related to the insufficient quantity of ventilators is below. COUNTRIES THAT GET OVERWHELMED WILL HAVE A MUCH GREATER MORTALITY RATE BECAUSE THEY WON’T BE ABLE TO ADEQUATELY CARE FOR THE SICK. And by sick I mean not just coronavirus patients. Your son or daughter that needs acute care surgery this May for his badly broken leg will be attended to by an orthopedic doctor that has been working at maximum capacity and working 18 hour shifts for 7 days every week for 6 weeks because it was required to care for all the coronavirus patients at her hospital. Or the orthopedic surgeon will be sick with the virus and your son or daughter will be operated on in a tent in the hospital parking lot by a non-expert or a member of the National Guard. Your elderly Mom that has diabetes and goes into acute distress next month may not receive ANY medical care because the doctors are consumed and have to prioritize patients based on triage guidelines based on success rate probabilities. Your sibling’s family that are all injured in a terrible car crash in June will have diminished care. If one of them needs a ventilator there will be none available because all of them will be in use by critical coronavirus patients. Your young friend with cancer and a compromised immune system from treatment will succumb even though the cancer was curable and the treatment was working, because their body was too fragile to combat the coronavirus due to the chemotherapy and they couldn't receive the customized, acute care required due to the hospital being overwhelmed. All of the above is currently happening in Italy, who had the same number of infections we have today just 2 weeks ago. You must start social distancing today. The count of actual virus infections doubles every ~3 days. The news and government agencies are lagging in their response. So we hear that the US only has 1573 cases today (3/12/20) [update as of 3/15/20: 3115 confirmed cases), ( see https://www.worldometers.info/coronavirus/) and it doesn't seem like a lot. It would be better to report the estimated actual cases, since reported cases don’t tell us much. However, we know from China that the actual number of cases are at least an order of magnitude greater than the reported cases, because people get infected and do not display symptoms. In math, an "order of magnitude" means ten times difference, or put another way, a factor of 10. 100 is 10 times greater than 10, so it's an order of magnitude greater. Harvard Medical School / Massachusetts General Hospital just released their estimate (recording is here: https://externalmediasite.partners.org/Mediasite/Play/53a4003de5ab4b4da5902f078744435a1d) that the actual cases are 50x greater than the reported cases. So we likely have 75,000 cases in the United States already. The number of reported cases is not that important. But let’s assume the current number of cases is only 10,000 ACTUAL cases in the United States just to be conservative and model out what will happen: If we don’t stop the virus from spreading, in 30 days we will have 2 to the 10th power more cases of infected people because the infection count doubles every 3 days (the virus doubles every 3 days and there are 10, 3 day periods in 30 days). The math: 2 to the 10th power means 1,024 times as many cases as we have today (2 times 2 repeated 10 times). This number is a catastrophically big problem for all of us: We will have 10 million+ actual cases (10,000 actual cases today x 1,024) in the United States in just 30 days’ time if we continue without extreme social distancing. 10 million people with the virus. And it will keep doubling every 3 days unless we practice social distancing. 15% of cases require significant medical attention, which means that 1.5 million people will require significant medical attention if 10 million people get infected (15% of 10 Million total infections = 1.5 million people requiring hospitalization). 1.5 million hospitalizations is way more than we have beds for at hospitals in the United States. And 65% of all beds are already occupied in our hospitals. But many patients (5%) with the virus need ICU beds, not just any old hospital bed. Only about 10% of hospital beds are considered intensive care beds. So we will have a huge bed shortage, but that is not the biggest problem, as we can erect temporary ICU shelters and bring in more temporary beds, as Italy has already done, and California and Washington hospitals have already done. Evergreen Hospital in Seattle has already erected temporary triage tents in the parking lot as of 3/13/20. All regular beds are full at Evergreen Hospital as of yesterday. Once the government of China, Norway, and Italy came to understand this math, they reacted accordingly and shut EVERYTHING down. [update as of 3/15/20 now France has done the same lockdown]. Extreme social distancing is the only response available to stop the virus today. The United States is not responding well nor are other countries like the UK. Countries that do not respond well will pay a much larger, catastrophic price. But hospital beds are not the big problem. The lack of ventilators is the big problem. Most estimates peg the ventilators in the United States at roughly 100,000 to 150,000 units. See the study from last month: http://www.centerforhealthsecurity.org/resources/COVID-19/200214-VentilatorAvailability-factsheet.pdf The primary and most serious comorbid (comorbid is a medical term that means co-existing or happening at the same time) condition brought on by the Coronavirus is something called bilateral interstitial pneumonia which requires ventilators for treatment of seriously ill patients. So if 1.5M people of the 10 million infected 30 days from now require hospital care (15% of the 10M estimated total infections), 1.3M may not get the care that they need because we don’t have enough ventilators, beds, and ICU beds in the United States. And remember, this is only if ALL OF US EFFECTIVELY start social distancing by April 11th (30 days from today). This increases the mortality rate significantly. BUT IF WE START EXTREME SOCIAL DISTANCING BY MARCH 23 (12 days from original writing), WE AVOID OVER 1.4 MILLION PEOPLE GETTING CRITICALLY ILL AND OVERWHELMING THE HOSPITALS: If everyone takes extreme measures to social distance, and the United States can dramatically reduce the spread of the virus 12 days from now, the math is very different, as the exponential growth will only be 2 to the 4th power (12 days divided by the doubling rate of every 3 days equals the exponent of 4): 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 = 16 So instead of 10 Million cases in the United States if we wait 30 days, if we act 18 days sooner, we will have only 160,000 cases (16 times the estimated 10,000 actual cases as of today), of which 15% are likely to require hospitalization. This is 24,000 critical patients (a huge difference compared to 1.5 million acute patients). The difference between taking extreme measures now, versus waiting even a few days, is very large due to how exponents work in math. THE OUTCOME IS EVEN BETTER IF WE TAKE ACTION IN THE NEXT 6 DAYS: If the vast majority of the population self isolates and implements social distancing in only 6 days from now the exponential math is 2 to the 2nd power (6 days divided by the 3 days it takes the virus to double means the exponent is only 2). In math this is "two squared". 2 x 2 = 4 Multiplied by the estimated 10,000 ACTUAL cases as of today (3/12/20) that means only 40,000 total cases will develop, 15% of which may be critical which is 6,000 critical patients. This is why you should share this post broadly. If people begin social distancing in the next 6 days it will greatly reduce the impact on all of us. It's why they say a "post goes viral". SOCIAL DISTANCING WILL REDUCE THE FINANCIAL IMPACT TO YOU AND YOUR FAMILY: Finally, the longer everyone waits to practice significant social distancing the greater the economic hardship will be on all of us. Lost jobs. Mortgage defaults. Closed businesses. Bankruptcies. All will be minimized if you start social distancing today. Some of the reasons the economic impacts will be reduced are worth mentioning: If we stop the virus now the overall duration of the outbreak will be far shorter. The stock market will normalize more quickly and recover more quickly. Businesses and people will be able to survive a shorter duration outbreak vs a longer duration outbreak. More companies will avoid bankruptcy if we begin to practice social distancing now. This is a big financial reason to begin social distancing if you are employed by any company: if companies see that the virus is being slowed, they will be less likely to conduct layoffs. You will be more likely to be laid off or experience a job-related event if we don’t practice social distancing immediately. As an HR executive, I’ve been involved in many, many layoffs. It’s the last thing companies want to do. But if they see that the pandemic will be shorter lived vs long and drawn out, they are less likely to make the permanent decision of laying off staff. The overall economic impact that hits your bank account will be greater if you wait or you don’t practice social distancing. This is why Norway acted now, because it’s less economic impact to take drastic measures early than to do them later, and it saves a lot of lives and suffering by doing so. And Norway has only one confirmed death as of this writing. Many people have suggested they want to support local restaurants and other businesses, who have seen sales drop by 50-90%. Stopping by and visiting them won't save them. What will save them is social distancing and what you do after the pandemic is over. If you are concerned, call them and buy a gift certificate over the phone. START TODAY. I CAN’T STRESS THIS ENOUGH. YOU MUST START TODAY. Finally, the article that I posted yesterday written by Tomas Pueyo has been read 30M times in the last few days and has been updated with new information. It’s worth reading again. Here’s that link. https://medium.com/@tomaspueyo/coronavirus-act-today-or-people-will-die-f4d3d9cd99ca Other up to date data I frequently consult regarding the pandemic is here: https://www.worldometers.info/coronavirus/ I hope this is helpful and useful. My brain focuses on the math and I try and be fact based in my analysis and interpretation of how I should respond. THERE IS MORE INFORMATION IN THE COMMENTS BELOW WORTH READING AND I WILL BE UPDATING THIS POST, AND THE COMMENTS, WITH MORE INFORMATION, (AS OPPOSED TO CREATING NEW POSTS). MY FINAL PARTING THOUGHT: Please share or forward this post at your discretion. If everyone shares this post and two of your friends share this post and so on, we use the power of exponential math to work in our favor, which seems appropriate given the virus is using that same exponential math against us. HOW YOU CAN REALLY HELP: If you know people who have large numbers of followers, or people in the media, please leverage your personal relationship with them and ask them to amplify this post by sharing it or the Medium Post (link below) For people not on Facebook you can email or text the link. It would be useful to get the post on Twitter and LinkedIn by sharing the Medium post. If you know people in government this fact-based post may help inform them to make the best decisions. It's time for us humans to go on the offensive against the virus. We must fight back. There is only one way to do so: Social Distancing. Do it today. NOTE: Anyone, including the media, is free to use this post, any related content, in all or in part, for any purpose, in any format, with no attribution required. Please direct message me if you have other ideas for how to raise awareness. Finally, I can no longer keep up with friend requests given how much this post has been shared. To receive updates or follow me, please use the "Follow" button on Facebook. 3/16/20: I am preparing a second post, now that 4 days have gone by since the first post. To receive it please follow me on FB. I can not keep up with the friend requests. https://medium.com/@Jason_Scott_Warner/the-sober-math-everyone-must-understand-about-the-pandemic-2b0145881993 https://www.facebook.com/jason.scott.warner/posts/10163742243430144

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unfortunate-stranger-losers · 5 years ago

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Six Baudelaires AU, Part Three {AO3} {Masterlist} {Part One} {Part Two}

Chapter Twenty-Four → in which the first three bells ring

Each sibling stopped at a different floor, and each sibling had a different experience simultaneously. None of the six stories were very pleasant, and they all led up to a conclusion that was more complicated and dreary than the ones before them.

But they each gathered some information while they were there, and they each realized, very quickly, that too many people who could have recognized and revealed them were getting very, very close…

Lilac got off the elevator on the fifth floor, waving very nervously to all her siblings but Nick, who’d already gotten off on the third. He’d looked so nervous, and he kept glancing at Violet and patting his pocket, or reaching for his arms and then flinching back. Lilac had no idea what that was about, but it scared her. Everything about this scared her.

Room 547. Get to Room 547.

She wondered what number that was in the Dewey Decimal System. She wondered if Fiona would knew. God, she wished Fiona had gone with them. Fiona could have gone with Nick, or watched Sunny or Soli, or been there. With her. She wished the Quagmires were there, too. With four extra people, only two of them would be left alone. In her mind, she considered who would go where. She remembered that one of the 839 numbers was Gothic Literature, maybe Isadora could go with her or Sunny, stop at the floor either just above or just below her to see what was there. Unfortunately, Duncan and Quigley would probably want to go with Klaus and Violet… Isadora could’ve gone with Sunny, and Fiona could go with Soli… but that left Nick alone… perhaps Nick could go with Soli and Fiona could take the other floor. That would put both her and Fiona alone, but they were the eldest, they could handle it.

When she finally reached Room 547, she stopped herself and took a few deep breaths. Why was she even thinking like this? Isadora and Duncan were in a mobile home, with Quigley in a helicopter and Fiona somewhere at sea. It was just the six of them, and they’d have to do the best they could.

And she’d have to hurry so she could make sure she met up with her siblings as soon as possible.

Lilac knocked and said, as she thought she probably was supposed to, “Room Service?”

The door opened, and Lilac stepped back, coughing as some kind of steam came out. A woman peered out and said, “Oh, hello! I need some help!”

Lilac almost gasped as soon as she recognized the voice, but she managed to straighten up and say, once again faking an Austrailian accent, as she’d done back at Heimlich Hospital, “Whatever you need, ma’am.”

The woman smiled, and while Lilac did not recognize the white coat or black uniform underneath, she did recognize the woman standing in front of her, even though she wasn’t bending in any unusual positions.

“Come on in. I’m afraid it’s a bit crowded. My associates are helping me, too.” Collete said, gesturing for Lilac to follow her inside.

As soon as she stepped in, Lilac figured out that 547 must be the Dewey Decimal Number for some kind of chemistry, because the room was filled with chemistry equipment. Glasses and bottles of bubbling liquid filled every inch of the room, covering metal tables and hanging off of shelves. At a center table sat Hugo, who was dressed in uniform of a bellboy, and Kevin, who was wearing a plain apron. They sat between several petri dishes, and for a heart-pounding moment, Lilac thought there might be spores inside them, but, no, it seemed to just be some clear liquid.

“I may need your assistance.” Collete said, leading Lilac over to a thick book open on the table. “You see, I am a brilliant chemist, as you can tell from my outfit, but I’m afraid some of these fumes have gone to my head, and I’m having trouble recognizing some words here.”

Shit, we shoulda sent Klaus.

“Well,” Lilac stuttered through her accent, “Perhaps you should wear more safety equipment.”

“Our boss says safety equipment’s for weaklings.” Kevin said.

Hugo laughed uncomfortably. “You mean, um, your boss, person I’ve never met. We all clearly have different occupations.”

Their lack of subtlety would be funny if Lilac wasn’t so fearful. She skittishly glanced down at the book. “Well, I personally believe that safety is more important than pride.”

“We can discuss that later.” Colette said. She pointed at a paragraph. “There. I can’t understand this.”

Lilac blinked. “This is an ingredients list.” She’d expected Colette to be having trouble working a machine or mixing things together, and as the contortionist spoke next, Lilac glanced up to read the title of the formula, only to find it covered with a sticky note that one of her former coworkers had helpfully drawn a frowny face on.

“Yes, yes. But they’re all worded very complicatedly.”

“They’re just listing chemical compounds.”

“I told you they’d judge us.” Kevin said. “I should’ve just called up my old gangmate.”

“She wouldn’t have gotten here in time, she lives on the other side of-” Hugo began.

“I’m not judging you, sir,” Lilac said quickly, “I’m just trying to understand the problem. Which ones are you having trouble with?”

“All of them.” Colette admitted. “And I’m afraid we have to make this fast. My employer needs this completed before Thursday, and I know there’s a long time it has to prepare.”

Her employer. Great.

Lilac narrowed her eyes. She recognized the chemical compounds- her and Violet had gone through a celebrity crush phase on a chemist about three or four years before- but she was having trouble figuring out what they combined into. “What is this for?”

“Um. Nothing.” Colette said. “Just a cocktail party. For… the fountain. I mean, the formula’s for the fountain, not that we’re throwing a party for the fountain, I doubt the fountain would care-”

“Oh, a party for a fountain might be fun.” Hugo said.

“Focus.” Kevin reminded them.

Lilac considered. “I can write down the more�� easy-to-recall names beside them, if any of you have a pencil.”

“Uh, there might be one in this drawer.” Hugo said, pushing it open. “No, more dishes… this has syringes… here!”

He passed her a stubby pencil, and Lilac thought very hard. While she knew the basics of chemistry, she was by no means an expert. She really had two options, if she wanted to keep her cover; she could write down the exact compounds, or she could change some to help Colette’s experiments fail. But then what would happen if it blew up? Her coworkers could be hurt.

They’re working for Olaf. Whatever they’re trying to make, you need to stop them.

But still… they weren’t bad people. Just lost. She couldn’t allow herself to hurt them.

She wrote down the first compound- nothing too bad yet. Maybe they were just making cookies.

Don’t be stupid, Li. Figure out how to stop them.

But if she changed the formula, what if she was found out? What if Colette called her back to complain and realized who she was? What if she told Ernest or Frank and they realized who she was, and thus, who her siblings were? She couldn’t put them in danger.

Colette won’t realize, she’ll just think she messed up… and then she’ll get blamed.

She continued writing, her hands going faster than her brain.

Fuck it up. Come on, Li, bullshit it.

Whatever they were doing, it wasn’t good. She had to stop it. She had to…

Oh, fuck.

“Um, ma’am?” Lilac said, her voice a little shaky. “This… this compound, on the list, is for cyanide.”

“Is it?” Colette asked curiously. “Kevin, do you see anything labelled for cynaide?”

“Ma’am, that’s very deadly…”

Colette quickly glanced over her shoulder and then snatched the book away. “You know, I’ll just look for an index. Thank you for getting most of this for me.”

Cyanide. Deadly. Poison.

Cocktail party…

Oh, holy shit.

“Glad to be of service, ma’am.” Lilac said quicky, almost forgetting her accent. “Is there anything more I can do for you?”

“No, please leave and don’t mention this to anyone. It’s… a surprise!”

Lilac bit her lip. “Ma’am, I could suggest less… dangerous chemistry experiments to use-”

“No, thank you. Go away.”

Well, if she was going to fudge the chemical compounds, her chance had long gone. Why didn’t she just keep her damn mouth shut?

At the very least, she had a brief idea of what Olaf’s plan could be.

Lilac opened her mouth to say something, only for Hugo to say, “Hey, you look familiar. Have I seen you before?”

“Um. No.” Lilac said too quickly. “No, I’m new.”

“Actually, you do…” Colette narrowed her eyes, studying her. “You know what? I might listen a bit, if you’re who I think you are. Are you who I think you are?”

Lilac felt her heart skip a beat. Colette might listen to her… or she might be preparing to trap her to hand over to Count Olaf.

In another life, or maybe just a few months ago, she might have taken off her sunglasses and properly reintroduced herself, and trusted that these three people had the best of intentions and she could stop them from doing anything further.

But she hadn’t had a lot of luck with trust lately. And she had five siblings who needed her to stay alive and stay with them.

“I’m just a concierge.” Lilac said. “And I’ll see myself out.”

As she turned to go, she heard the hotel clock below her.

WRONG. WRONG. WRONG.

Violet got off alone at the roof of the hotel, very glad she had sunglasses to avoid the bright light. The sun bounced its reflection off of the sea, and on the roof, several people held mirrors to catch the light. About ten sunbathers lay around the area on shiny mats, but one had stood up upon seeing her, and Violet had to bite back a snarl as she approached, wearing insane sunglasses and an even more insane outfit.

“Here you are at least, concierge!” Esme said.

Esme was wearing sunglasses vaguely shaped like cones, and instead of a bathing suit, she wore three leaves of lettuce taped to her body.

“I have been waiting for two whole minutes, you lazy worker!”

Violet tore her eyes away from the vilainness and stared hard at the ground. “I apologize, ma’am, the concierges are particularly busy today. What is it you require?”

“It’s not what I require,” Esme said, “It’s what that adorable little girl requires.”

“I’m not an adorable little girl!” Violet bit back another groan as Carmelita danced up to them, shouting, “I’m a ballplaying cowboy superhero soldier pirate!”

“Of course you are, darling.” Esme went to go sit on a mat, beside a woman Violet unhappily recognized as Eleanora Poe. “Carmelita’s going through her tomboy phase.”

“Oh, I’m sure your daughter will grow out of it.” Eleanora said, barely looking up from a stack of papers she was reading over. Even from the briefest of glances, Violet could see a million spelling mistakes.

“Oh, she’s not my daughter.” Esme said. “I’d no sooner have children of my own than I would wear modest clothing.”

“Alright, cakesniffer,” Carmelita said, “I want ice cream, with-”

“And she’s not adopted, orphans are Out now.”

“What’s In?” asked Eleanora, looking very interested.

“Cocktail parties! Like the one I’m having on Thursday!”

“-no nuts, only pink and green sprinkles, lots of whipped cream, nuts on the whipped cream-”

“And these sunglasses. They’re called Sunoculars. Like sunglasses and binoculars.”

“Oh? Wait until the readers of The Daily Punctilio hear about this! SUNOCULARS, TO BE USED FOR- what are they used for?”

“Watching the skies, of course.”

“Why would you want to watch the skies?”

Esme frowned, as Carmelita described what kind of spoon she wanted. “Because birdwatching is very In.” she said unconvincingly.

“Wow! Will all the guests at your cocktail party be wearing sunoculars?”

“Even if they were, they wouldn’t be able to see the surprises we have in store for them.”

“Could you tell me?”

“Well, if I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“Could I get a hint?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“Hey! Cakesniffer!” Carmelita shouted to Violet. “I also want a harpoon gun!”

“Yeah, sure.” Violet waved, trying to listen.

“I’ll give you a hint,” Esme said, “If you tell me about this person lurking around the laundry room. Goes by JS.”

“Wait,” Violet suddenly realized something, “Did you say you wanted a harpoon gun?”

“JS? But JS is-” Eleanora began.

“Esme!” Carmelita screamed. “She won’t bring me a harpoon gun!”

“I-” Violet began.

“Why do you want a harpoon gun?” asked Eleanora. “Are those In?”

“Countie said I can’t be a ballplaying superhero cowboy soldier pirate without one! So go get me one so that I can use it properly and he’ll teach me how to spit!”

“Um, I’ll fetch you a harpoon gun, miss.” Violet said.

“Stop calling me ‘miss’, you cakesniffer!” Carmelita said. “I’m a ballplaying cowboy superhero soldier pirate!”

“Okay, okay.” Violet said, backing into the elevator.

As soon as the doors closed, Violet thought very hard. Where the hell would she get a harpoon gun? Was there a dewey decimal number for harpoon guns? God, wouldn’t that be convenient.

She sighed and pressed the button for the lobby, making her way down to the desk, where Frank or Ernest was in the middle of a crowd, gesturing. Violet waited until he was done, and then said, “Excuse me, sir, a guest has requested a harpoon gun, and I don’t know where to find one. Are you sure there isn’t a catalogue?”

“You shouldn’t need one,” the manager said, “If you’re who I think you are.” Violet stared very hard, and Frank or Ernest tok a step closer to her. “Are you who I think you are?”

Violet bit her lip, and then said, “Of course I’m who you think I am. I’m a concierge.”

“I see.” said Frank or Ernest. “And who is requesting a harpoon gun?”

“A young girl on the roof.”

“A young girl on the roof. Are you sure a harpoon gun should be given to a young girl on the roof?”

‘Um…”

Before Violet could answer, Frank or Ernest turned and beckoned Violet to follow him to a far corner of the library, to a door marked 121. “This number stands for epistemology,” he explained, “And I thought it would be a good hiding place.”

He unlocked the door, revealing a closet, holding a large harpoon gun.

“Be very careful with this.” said the manager, handing it to Violet. “A weapon like this should only be in the hands of the right person. I’m grateful for your assistance, concierge. Not many people have the courage to help with a scheme like this.”

Violet nodded, and then slowly turned.

She had to give it to Carmelita, or she’d complain, and she and Esme would find her, and it wouldn’t take long for them to recognize her. All they’d have to do was make her slip up, or catch her with her siblings…

The hotel clock in the lobby clanged.

WRONG! WRONG! WRONG!

Nick really, really hated being alone in a hotel this big, and with so many enemies inside. His siblings could run into any number of people who wanted them dead, or who were working for someone who wanted them dead, or could accidentally end up handing them over to a villain, or…

Stop it.

He doodled the shape of a pegasus on his arm, beside the moon. He remembered that book. What else had Merricat thought would be on the moon? Rose petals. He could draw roses next. His mother had once shown him how to draw roses really well. He could probably do that with his markers.

He pulled his sleeve over his doodles and knocked on the door of Room 371.

“Who dares interrupt a genius while he’s rehearsing?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“The concierge you called.” Nick said.

“The concierge you called.” imitated Vice Principal Nero, who swung open the door. “Come inside.”

Nick hesitantly stepped inside the room, keeping the door in the corner of his eye at all times. “You rang.” he said quietly.

“You rang.” Nero mimicked, brandishing is violin. Sitting at a table in the corner of the room, Mr Remora and Ms Bass were playing some sort of educational card game. “Well, so what if I did? Ringing for you is no excuse for interrupting me when I’m practicing the violin. I have a very important recital on Thursday, and I plan on rehearsing every moment until then.”

“Please, boss,” saying Mr Remora, “You said we could take a lunch break.”

‘I’m so hungry I could eat a dekagram of rice.” said Ms Bass. “I heard there’s a wonderful Indian restaurant in Room 954.”

Nick perked up slightly. Room 954? “I’d be very happy to take you there.” he said brightly.

“Ms Bass, I was hoping for room service.” Nero said. “So I could continue practicing.”

Thinking very quickly, Nick said, “I’m sure a genius like you could stop for lunch. You don’t want to… break your violin by playing too much. You’d have to buy a new one before your recital.”

“Oh, we’d just use the money Bass took from the bank.” Nero waved.

“Shh! Don’t bring that up!” Bass said.

“Even still,” Nick said, “I’ve read that violins play better if you’re used to them. A new violin could throw a genius like you off.”

“Hmm.” Nero considered. “I suppose I could rest my arms for a few measly minutes in order to eat. What do you recommend?”

“Room 954.” Nick said quickly.

“Excellent! I’m glad you don’t give multiple options, we’d waste valuable rehearsing time deciding.” Nero said. “Lead the way, concierge.”

“Yes, sir.” Nick said, carefully stepping back outside the room. He waited until he was sure all three were following him before moving them down the hall towards the elevator.

“I’m very excited about my recital.” Nero said as they walked. “I’m sure all of the music critics at the cocktail party will love my performance.”

Nick pressed the button to open the surprisingly swift elevator doors, just as Remora asked, “How do you know there will be music critics at the party? My invitation just said there’d be an all-you-can-eat banana buffet.”

“Mine didn’t say anything about either of those.” Bass said, as they stepped inside the double doors and Nick pressed the button for the ninth story. “Just that there was a party in celebration of the metric system and to bring all of my valuables. As a teacher, I don’t earn enough money to purchase valuables, so I had to resort to a life of crime.”��

The doors shut and the elevator ascended, and Nick clenched his fists. He hated how small the compartment was, and if this thing got stuck… well, he might just explode before Count Olaf could even show up to try and kill him.

Thankfully, the doors opened as Nero finished saying, “I had to resort to a life of crime. I can’t believe a genius like myself was invited to the same cocktail party as you two. Esme Squalor and her boyfriend must have accidentally mailed you those invitations.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed as the doors opened, and Nero pushed past to exit first. Nick quickly guided them to Room 954, desperately hoping that Sunny was inside and ready to go already.

The three teachers entered, sitting at a table and talking loudly about something while waiting for a waiter. Nick edged towards the kitchen doors, assuming that Sunny would be inside.

The doors opened before he could get to them, and a vaguely familiar waiter rushed out towards the teachers. “Welcome to Room 954, where we serve a variety of Indian dishes.” he said. “I’m Larry, your waiter, and what would you like to order?”

Not interested in the food preferences of his former professors, Nick turned back to the kitchen doors, just in time to see another, more familiar man exit.

Hal?

The former librarian came out, watching Larry for a moment before scanning the restaurant, looking at each guest at each table in turn. Nick edged a little, hoping Hal wouldn’t notice him, but just as he reached the doors, he was spotted.

“Can I help you, concierge?” Hal asked.

“Um.” Nick froze a moment, panic clutching his chest.

You’ve been caught! You’ve been caught! You’ve been caught!

“Is there something you need?”

Nick shut his eyes and took a breath. “I, uh… an associate of mine is supposed to meet me here. I was wondering if she came by.”

“I cannot just tell anyone that.” Hal said. “I may have only just started working here, but I’ve been told not to give out information on other employees.”

“Well, I’m an employee.” Nick said. “I’m in uniform.”

“Anyone can just put on a uniform and masquerade as an employee.” Hal said.

Nick eyed him. “Including you.” he finally said. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“Well, do I know if I can trust you?” Hal asked. He stepped forwards and said, “I didn’t realize this was a sad occasion.”

Nick’s hand flew to his necklace. “It’s not.”

Hal’s eyes narrowed. “I think I may know you, and your associate. Are you who I think you are?”

Nick stared at him. Are you Nick Baudelaire? Are you a Baudelaire?

Are you a Volunteer?

“I… I’m…” Nick didn’t know how to respond.

Are you… yourself?

When did you stop?

“I’m just looking for another concierge.”

He heard a clanging beneath him, as Hal sighed and turned away.

WRONG! WRONG! WRONG!

Nick flinched, covering his ears. Hal immediately turned back, concern flickering across his face. “Are you alright?”

“It’s loud.” Nick said hastily, waiting until he was sure the clock would not chime again before lowering his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Would you like to step into the kitchen? I believe I have some leftover meals I may be able to share-”

“No.” A memory flashed in Nick’s mind- him and Klaus, smiling at the shoemaker, telling him that they couldn’t take food from strangers. Back then, they hadn’t really thought about why, they just knew it was a rule to keep them safe. They never thought about not being safe.

The world was so different when he was a kid. He wasn’t a kid anymore.

He saw the waiter pass by him, and he stood aside so he could walk through the doors. He should go through, he should go through and find Sunny…

“Is there sugar here?” he finally asked.

Hal started. “What?”

“In this restaurant. Sugar.”

Hal hesitated, and then leaned close to Nick and whispered, “We’re expecting a new shipment tonight.”

Nick nodded at him, trying to remain calm.

The doors swung open again, and he looked down and saw Sunny toddling through, followed by Frank or Ernest. The manager smiled at Nick and walked away, as Sunny said, “Whatcha doin?”

“Came to… fetch you.” Nick said shakily. He held out his hand, and Sunny took it. “Come on, we’ll be late.”

#asoue #asoue netflix #asoue movie #a series of unfortunate events #six baudelaires au #six baudelaires official fic #the penultimate peril #mine #my fanfic

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anorakofavalon · 6 years ago

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Complications in Calcutta Chapter 1

REPOSTED, but this time with the entire first chapter included :)

Brutasha shippers! I’ve recently gotten back into writing fanfiction in order to practice some more writing, and though I usually stick to more fantasy-esque shows, I had a wonderful idea for a Brutasha ship and decided to write it out.

Also on AO3 and FFN.

Summary:

Because of unforeseen events, Fury is forced to send Agent Romanoff to collect Dr. Banner in Calcutta early or risk him being captured by Ross' men. When things inevitably go wrong, Bruce and Natasha are forced to go on the road in order to evade capture. All things considered, though, Natasha doesn't mind too much. The Doc is pleasant company - when he's around, that is.

A/N: This fic was inspired by the song "Move!" by Saint Motel. Go check out the music video on YouTube. It's a 360 degree virtualizer and it's awesome. Anyways, I listened to the song and had a stray thought about post cards and, well, this was born.

This is a little bit AU, as it takes place before Loki swiped the Tesseract from SHIELD and Clint was brain-washed, maybe by a month or two. Which basically means that Natasha and Banner's meeting got started slightly earlier.

I hope you enjoy my writing, and where I plan to take both Banner and Romanoff.

This man, this dutiful man, has got this sense of devotion.

Chapter 1: A Spider Spies a Scientist

"Agent Romanoff."

The glass door inched closed behind her as she walked into his office with a cup of coffee in her hand. The Director was standing by a window, staring out into the blue of the skies with his hands characteristically clasped behind his back.

Clint used to joke that the glass was the only thing that kept him from reaching down below and controlling things on Earth himself. Sometimes she was sure it was the truth.

Natasha didn't watch him too long. She had been on the helicarrier so often these days that she had gotten sick of looking out of windows, but Nick must have seen something in the vastness that she couldn't.

She quirked a smile when he turned to her. "Fury."

"Long time no see."

She sipped on her coffee as she took a seat."It's been precisely a day and a half. Not that I'm complaining, but you don't usually call in on weekends."

He raised an eyebrow. "It's a Tuesday, Agent Romanoff."

"After dealing with Stark for the past couple of days? Let's just say I'm glad he's wrapped up business here. Feels like a Friday."

"Well then, the good news is it'll be an exciting weekend for you."

Natasha was quite certain that whatever he had in mind would most definitely not be exciting. "What've you got in mind? A party?"

"Something like that. There's been a… complication in Calcutta, Agent. It involves Dr. Banner."

That piqued her interest. Last she had heard, Banner had left Bella Coola and was making his way to Asia. "I'm assuming it's not a complication of the green variety."

"Not quite. Or at least not quite yet. General Ross and his friends seem to have localized our man. It looks like they intend to take him in or take him out. Whichever it is, I'd much rather they didn't."

Natasha grimaced."Ross would be operating out of his jurisdiction by sending men after Banner."

"He's operating on a different jurisdiction entirely. You've read Banner's file Romanoff, I'm sure you can put two and two together. Hate is an international sort of affair."

"You seem strangely attached to the Big Guy, Director." She smirked, glancing up from her raised cup. "Got a crush?"

She wasn't surprised she didn't get a rise out of him – she rarely did – but she was ready to bet that he was amused deep, deep inside.

"Let's just say I have a vested interest in Dr. Banner." He took a seat and pulled something up on a tablet. "I need you to track down and protect our esteemed green scientist. If possible, bring him to us. I was going to wait a little bit, but With Rogers de-icing a few days ago and Stark building up relationships here at SHIELD, we might need him sooner rather than later."

She read through the briefing briefly, pinpointing everything vital. Something caught her eye.

"He's helping people?"

"According to the rumor mill. Foreign man shows up in a city like that and starts offering medicine and care for free? He was bound to get noticed."

She presented her theory carefully. "He must be fairly in control of himself if he's confident enough to go into a city like Calcutta."

"I believe he learned a thing or two during his stay in Canada, Romanoff."

She pushed on. It was a futile question, in so far as neither she nor Fury could get a firm answer to that without talking to the man himself, but she was fishing for something else – she wanted Fury's opinions on the Doc. "So why Calcutta? Why not try to start a life somewhere else?"

Fury looked at her evenly. She was sure he knew what she was searching for, but he decided there was no harm in the truth – though he wouldn't give her all of it. "Bruce Banner is a man who was turned into something he never wanted to be, and hurt people he never wanted to hurt. Maybe he's trying to do what good he can. But if Ross gets his hand on him, that'll be good for no one."

Natasha contemplated it for a moment, and decided she was willing to take on the mission. "How many men has Ross sent out?"

Fury's lip twitched upward. "A significant number."

"So do I get to pick my team this time or is that a privilege reserved for Phil?"

"Agent Romanoff – you are the team."

Fury hadn't lied when he said it would be just her. Well, at least technically. She was the only agent, but she didn't at all come alone or unarmed. She had about twenty foot soldiers, all wielding Hulk-grade weaponry, and all very nervous. Agent Hill said they were Hulk-grade, but that was more of a theoretical. Natasha only hoped that today wouldn't be the day they found out if SHIELD's labs were up to par.

She read Banner's file over for a fourth-or-maybe-fourteenth time as their carrier began a landing sequence. In the picture on the file he bore a soft smile, a haphazardly arranged mop of black hair, and glasses that were ready to parachute off of his nose at any moment. Natasha had a hard time reconciling Dr. Banner with the monstrosity that had destroyed Harlem, but as she flicked down to the video she felt flutters of fear again.

People had a misconception that she never felt anything akin to fear as a spy or an assassin. It was a silly notion. Fear kept her alive. On a chemical level, the adrenaline rush is her biggest combat advantage against someone foolish enough not to be afraid. Fear was often wisdom in her line of work, and caution went a long way. But acting on that fear was what made her strong. The Hulk was different, in a sense. No amount of adrenaline would keep her alive against something like that.

"Agent, we have landed. What do we do?" said one of the soldiers.

She dismantled her fears briskly, for now. They wouldn't be useful yet.

"We're about a mile south of our base. I'm going to need to head out now in order to lure him there. Keep the carrier on stealth, and I want someone on the pilot's seat at all times until the mission is over. We could have a take-off at any moment in case containment fails."

Base was perhaps more comfortable of a word than their little shack probably deserved to have applied to it. But it was on the edge of the city, it was cheap, and it would do. More importantly, every inch was covered in cameras, microphones, and more than enough weapons for her to pull from. What she would lack in concealment with her outfit would be made up for on-location.

She looked the group over for a moment and continued. "I want a perimeter on the building after he steps in. Until then, keep to the trees and keep hidden. Don't close in until I say and do not shoot until I give an express order. We don't want to make mountains out of molehills boys."

A loose chuckle.

She looked out a window. The sun was beginning to dwindle, slowly. "Start making the trek to your positions at sundown. Look alive gentlemen."

Natasha stepped out of the carrier and made her way to the city. She'd need to get eyes on the target first and foremost. She was already dressed for the occasion, wearing a two piece outfit with a shawl over her shoulders. Natasha opted for earthy and neutral colors. If the Hulk were to come out to play, she wanted to blend in as much as possible with the colors of the shack. Regardless, it was form-fitting and seduction would be possible if need be – not that she expected such a need at all. Maybe it was intuition, but she highly doubted Banner would be persuaded by something like that.

She stepped into the crowd from the off-road she had taken, passing the shack, and began to make her way to the city proper. It was crowded and saturated by the scents of a variety of local foods, and the sounds of bikes ringing and people chattering.

She took a moment and turned a corner into a fabrics shop, where they had bolts of all types of silk and wool and cotton on display in a variety of colors and designs. She pulled out her phone and checked where their scouting agents had last seen Banner. Three blocks away in a green house, the text said. She almost grinned at the coincidence, but the mention of the color brought up her apprehension about the mission.

Sun was setting at last, and she received a message from the one she had put in charge on the carrier. The men were en route to their positions. Natasha pursed her lips and looked up through the fabrics. She stepped away from the shop and spotted a little girl. Beckoning her in the local tongue, Natasha crouched down to her eye level and spoke in the voice she had always used with Cooper and Lila Barton. She pulled out some money and gave her a little quest.

The earnest excitement in the girl's eyes gave Natasha all the assurance she needed that the girl would come through. Telling her where to find the shack, Natasha thanked her, and sent her off to the green house with Dr. Banner. She began her walk to the base.

She was in position when she heard the little girl's rushed steps through the shack and a brief little grunt as she popped out through a window.

Dr. Banner sighed and chuckled at once. "Should have got paid up-front Banner" he said to himself.

He was wearing a tweed jacket, slacks, and a flesh-pink dress shirt. Same color as her shawl. His hair was a mop of black, like in the picture, except longer, and lightly sprinkled with gray hairs. His shoulders were tense, likely because he was already aware he was in a trap, but he didn't seem overly concerned.

It was a strange sort of confidence. Like he was afraid of the world and afraid for it all at once.

She stepped out of her spot and put on her own brand of confidence, despite the fear creeping up through her spine. It was different seeing him in person. He could snap at any moment and she would die a very short and brutal death. With that thought she spoke up.

"You know, for a man who's supposed to be avoiding stress you picked a..." she let her eyes roam the shack, as if it was her first time there,"hell of a place to settle."

He turned around quickly enough. He was surprised she was a woman, and yet not. He put down his bag, tense, and took a step back. She wondered, briefly, if he was going to simply run away. He didn't.

"Avoiding stress isn't the secret." Dr. Banner said, putting a little bit of distance between them. That wouldn't do. She needed to guide him closer to the table, where she at least had a weapon. Being seated would calm him.

She toyed with putting on a facade in her personality, but ultimately went with the truth. He was wary enough as it stood. The only person she was lying to now was herself, but being afraid was something she had learned to deal with long ago.

"So what is it? Yoga?" Her eyebrow quirked as she gazed at him steadily, openly. It was the first thought to cross her mind, but it also served the purpose of establishing repertoire, hopefully.

He didn't take it, though he was somewhat amused. Clearly his nerves outweighed his humor at the moment- he looked skittish. He wrung his hands together tightly, contemplating the shack as he nodded to himself. It was almost like he was comforting himself with his hands. He finished assessing his surroundings and began to move towards the window, further from her part of the room than before.

"You brought me to the edge of the city, smart." He commented as he inspected the darkness outside. "I, uh, I assume you have the place surrounded?"

Ten points to Dr. Banner. "Just you and me" she said. She moved to put her shawl on the chair near the table and stepped towards him, shoulders now bare. If it didn't work to appeal to his sensual side, then it created the illusion that she was at ease in his presence. He watched her, but asked a question before she could speak again.

"And your actress buddy?" He pointed to the room where the girl had made her little escape. "Is she a spy too? They start that young?"

His hands were clasped together once more as he yet again created a little bit of distance. It was getting to be a little frustrating but she answered evenly with a ghost of a shrug. Perhaps the truth would serve in her favor again. It was somewhat refreshing – the truth was a tool she didn't often have the occasion to use.

"I did."

"And who are you?"

"Natasha Romanoff."

He looked at her and stopped moving. He stood firmly in place, spine slightly straighter. Moment of truth. He made some more motions with his hands – why did he keep doing that? It was distracting. He looked down at the floor briefly before looking back up and speaking at last.

"Are you here to kill me Ms. Romanoff? Because," he shook his head, "that's not gonna work out...for everyone." A little smile, ironic and grim. Vaguely threatening.

She didn't deliberate too long on answering, but her heart was beating just a step too quick. "No, no, of course not." She stepped closer. It was like approaching a cornered animal. "I'm here on behalf of SHIELD."

He looked away from her and contemplated that. She wasn't sure if he was already familiar with the agency, but he didn't particularly seem to care. She imagined he wouldn't. A guy like him has probably heard from a lot of organizations with fancy acronyms.

"SHIELD," he sounded out, testing it. He looked to her briefly. She tilted her head, an invitation for him to ask what he wished to ask.

"How'd they find me?"

"We never lost you, doctor. We've… kept our distance." She smiled slightly, not that he'd see it. He was looking firmly at the ground. "Even helped keep other interested parties off your scent."

"Why?"

"Nick Fury seems to trust you." She kept her eyes open and as warm as she could. Non-threatening. "But now we need you to come in."

He didn't blink as he raised his head to answer her. "What if I said no?"

Now things were getting a little tense. She couldn't get a read on him, which threw her off balance more than she already was. Natasha couldn't figure out whether he was giving her a hypothesis, or presenting a firm answer.

She opted for more confidence. "I'll persuade you." She let her words hang in the air.

He didn't take the bait. His tongue swept briefly out of his mouth to wet his lips and he spoke quietly. "And what if the Other Guy says no?"

Her heart was a step and a half ahead of its normal pace. He scrutinized her now. It was a test, or maybe he just wanted to see how she would react to that.

She didn't drop her slight smile, and she began moving as she spoke, guiding him closer to her table. "You've been more than a year without an incident I don't think you want to break that streak." Confidence was the key.

She glanced back at him as she moved, briefly, and watched him push a wooden cradle back and forth as he responded.

"Well I don't every time get what I want." It was delivered in a soft voice, resigned, and she felt sympathy for the Doc. Couldn't he have children? That would have been on the file, right? Or maybe him and Elizabeth Ross had plans for a child before the accident?

She gave him a private moment as she pulled up a file on her phone. She also took the moment to give a status update to her soldiers. All was well for now.

Regardless, if the need arose, the moment she pulled any weapon from its spot in the room, they would know to deploy.

She glanced up at him from her spot. He hadn't moved from his position by the cradle, but his shoulders were somewhat less tense. He trusted her – to an extent.

"Doctor." She made sure her voice was all business now. He already knew she was an agent, so there was no need to pretend too much. Especially now that he was comfortable. "We're facing a potential global catastrophe."

He chuckled. "Oh those I actively try to avoid."

She appreciated the humor, but he had to know she was serious. She moved to the table.

"This," she showed him the phone from where he stood, but he'd have to come closer to see what it was, "is the tesseract." She took a seat and slid the phone across the table, inviting him to take a seat as well.

He got closer and pulled out a pair of reading glasses from his coat pocket. He approached the table and took the phone for a closer look, but he didn't sit down. That was unsettling. She had no idea how to get him to trust her.

"It has the potential energy to wipe out the planet." She informed him.

It was strange looking at him from where he stood. The science was clearly attractive to him, his eyes seemed curious from what she could tell as the blue of the screen illuminated his face.

He looked up, but when he didn't find her, lowered his gaze to where she was seated. It was a bemusing moment, and betrayed the fact that he was caught up in thought already.

"What does Fury want me to do? Swallow it?"

She was impressed that he remembered the name of her superior. She had only mentioned it in passing, but he took in the small detail. His joke wasn't horrible either, but it dripped with self-depreciation and sarcasm in a heady mix that she would have found amusing if she wasn't so damn afraid.

She leaned forward to take back her phone. "He wants you to study it at one of our labs. We've had people analyze it, the best of the best but..." She put as much earnestness as she could in her voice.

"There's no one that knows gamma radiation like you do. If there was..." she leaned back in her chair, seemingly relaxed and open, but she felt the mounting tension and her hand was carefully poised on her lap. Just under the table. Close to her gun. "That's where I'd be."

His face was amused. She had a bad feeling. "So Fury isn't after the monster?"

Fury very well might have been."Not that he's told me."

"And he tells you everything?" Ten more points to Dr. Banner. She wasn't overly fond of where this was heading.

"Talk to Fury, he needs you on this."

"Needs me in a cage?" Uh oh.

She made a mistake and tried for a little lie. She made to reach out to him across the table in a gesture of openness with one hand. The other edged closer to her weapon. "No one's going to put you in a cage -"

"Stop lying to me!" He slammed his hands on the table and her heart dropped faster than she ever could have imagined. When it picked up pace again less than a second later, it was sprinting in her chest. The gun was out and in her hand, cocked and ready to fire, her body in a defensive stance, and all of it happened before she even came close to registering exactly who she was pointing it at.

In a moment her entire perspective shifted, the entire conversation. She never had even a semblance of control here.

She pointed the weapon steadily, catching her breath. Any control she did have would have gone out the window when he turned green anyways. She suddenly rued the pistol in her hand. It would have been useless. But- maybe not. Banner wasn't green. As a matter of fact he didn't look even half as distressed as she felt.

He pulled back from the table with a little smirk. Her heart pounded so hard it almost hurt. "I'm sorry," he said, "that was mean."

He raised his hands in a conciliatory fashion. "I just wanted to see what you'd do."

She started at him disbelievingly over the barrel of her gun. Tears had gathered in her eyes, despite herself. She thought of all the people she would miss if she had died. The Bartons, first and foremost. Fury, Coulson, Hill. All of that could have been taken from her in a moment and she would have had no control over it. That was what scared her the most.

Banner continued softly. "Why don't we do this the easy way where you don't use -" he pointed to her weapon "that – and the other guy doesn't make a mess?"

"Okay? Natasha?" He had used her first name. His voice was comforting. It was a confirmation of sorts that he had seen right through the veil of confidence she had projected, not just to him but to herself.

She lowered her gun slowly and raised her hand to her earpiece.

"Stand down, we're good here" She instructed shakily..

She heard the weapons click as they began to step back. She, too, stepped away from Banner and re-considered her opinions. She knew he wasn't a fool, but he was quicker than she thought. He had outmaneuvered her entirely, and forced her on the defensive. That was rare.

The idea contrasted sharply with the sight of him now, wringing his hands together, staring at her wryly. "Just you and me, huh?"

A shaky breath from her end. She put the gun on the table and blinked away any lingering doubt. "Thirty points to Dr. Banner" she tried to joke.

He played along now. "You've been counting too? I counted forty, but my math may be wrong."

She chuckled, breathing still a little unstable, but better. "So, I take it you're coming along? I think you owe me after that scare."

He looked guilty. "I suppose I do. Sorry, again. It really was rude of me but I-" his hands wandered around. "I have trouble trusting."

She nodded and began to move to collect her shawl, but was forced quickly to freeze in place when she heard gunfire. Lots of it. Bruce heard it too. He looked up at her wildly. The question was obvious.

"Those weren't my men." She answered quickly. She tried to reach her lieutenant. The line was dead. Somebody cut off comms. More gunfire. She quickly came to a conclusion, and it wouldn't be good for anyone.

"Dr. Banner I need you to please stay calm and get close to the ground."

A bullet shot through one of the walls of the wooden shack, and the discharges got louder. She heard yelling loud and clear now, as well as grenades.

"Remember what I said about other interested parties?" She asked, crouching near him, pistol in hand.

He nodded, eyes wild.

She put her hand on his shoulder and looked deep into his eyes. She didn't have any facades now. "I think they've crashed ours. I need you to stay calm, okay? I swear I'm going to get you out of this and into safety."

Her heart was calmer now, in the face of gunfire. Guns she could deal with. Guns were familiar. She could control the situation.

Various more shots burst through the wooden shack, hitting the wall opposite them. The bullets were big. They passed right through those walls as well.

Natasha began to form a plan. Pistol raised, she chanced to rise from beneath the table. She began firing.

A/N: I hope you liked it! I have the rest of the story planned out; it's not going to be long, maybe around seven chapters, but I likely won't be able to get to typing up the next chapter because I have finals coming up soon. And Endgame, of course.

It was my first time writing anything set in the modern world, and definitely my first time writing Natasha, Fury, and Banner.

Please feel free to review!

#brutasha #brucenat #bruce x natasha #hulkwidow #bruce banner #natasha romanoff #black widow #hulk #fanfic

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