#also shout out to the person on the motorcycle a few weeks ago who gave me a hand heart

[deadhawke]

Today I have learned a lesson and that lesson is plastering one of your special interests all over your car is in fact a FANTASTIC idea.

A few months ago I had to get a new car cause my old one died (it was not unexpected) and so I took the opportunity to nerd the new car up with a custom license plate and a couple Trigun bumper stickers.

And so today I’m driving and stopped at a light, when I see the guy behind me jump out of his car and run up and knock on my window holding something. I thought for a sec a piece had fallen off of my car but then he handed me this sick ass badge/magnet thing with Trimax Vash on it and said “This is for you!”

And holy shit after being sick for the past week and half and missing out on time with my partner, it has absolutely made my whole week. Hell my whole month!

TL;DR: Don’t be afraid to plaster your car with things you love cause sometimes a very kind stranger will give you something cool

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Surprise – Howlin’ For You – One Shot

Description: Bucky forgets it’s his birthday. But his wife and kids aren’t going to let that slide. 

Pairing: AU - Biker!Bucky x Fem/Reader

Howlin’ For You - Masterlist

Read the series or you will not know what the fuck is happening.

Bucky was so tired that a part of him was worried about getting home on a motorcycle without falling asleep. 

It was like the universe was torturing him with the day that he had. It seemed as if every customer he had to deal with at the shop today was a privileged asshole. All of them either pretended like they knew more about auto mechanics than him or yelled at him for the very reasonable pricing he gave them on their vehicles.

Customer service had always been the thing Bucky hated most about running his own shop. He tried to avoid dealing with customers at all cost. Steve was much more patient than he was – most of the crew was. 

But the whole reason they’d created the shop in the first place was to offer people realistic prices and to not rip off naive and unassuming customers.

Now Bucky was mentally and emotionally exhausted.

He’d sent a text to Y/N earlier, telling her how he’d become more and more irritated from work as the day went on.

She sent her support and promised she’d try to cheer him up when he got home.

Bucky immediately brought the conversation to more risqué suggestions, but Y/N didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

He also knew that a few minutes with his kids and he’d cheer up. Amelia would want to cuddle with him or the twins would show him their new model cars they built with so much enthusiasm that he wouldn’t be able to help but feel better.

When Bucky walked through the door, his shoulders immediately relaxed. He gave most of the credit to Y/N for making their house an oasis of comfort and warmth.

But then he noticed how oddly quiet the house was, which was a rarity with a 5-year-old daughter and 9-year-old, rambunctious twins.

“Doll?” He called out.

Suddenly Amelia came running to him, slamming into his legs with her tiny body.

“There’s my girl,” Bucky chuckled as he lifted her up to hold her.

She was already growing up so fast that he knew carrying her around could end at any moment – more from her not wanting him to than her becoming too big.

“Where is your pretty mama and your crazy brothers, huh?” He asked her after giving her cheek a kiss.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulders.

“They told me to come get you,” she informed him.

“Oh, yeah? What for?”

Amelia giggled. “It’s a secret,” she whispered.

“A secret? Sounds like trouble.” But now Bucky was getting a little suspicious. “Is this hide and seek? Are you here to help me find them?”

Amelia giggled again and shook her head. “No, silly. Th-They told me to say…ummm…” She was now have trouble battling the short-term memory that came with being 5 years old.

“Told you to say what, babydoll?” He encouraged her softly.

She smiled, not seeming to care that she wasn’t doing a good job of giving him the message. “The backyard,” she laughed.

“I’m supposed to go to the backyard,” Bucky confirmed with a slow nod.

Then he kissed her head. “Alright. Let’s go to the backyard.”

Bucky assumed the twins had Y/N hostage, showing her everything about the new dirt bike he’d brought home for them just a few days ago. While Y/N didn’t know nor care much about the mechanics, like her sons and daughter, she humored them by nodding and oohing and aahing at the right parts.

As soon as they were close to the door that led out to the patio and backyard, Bucky was surprised he couldn’t hear the twins talking Y/N’s ear off. Also the lights were off, making it hard to see anything through the windows of the house.

When Bucky pulled the door open, he was met with the backyard lights turning on and a crowd screaming, “Surprise!”

On instinct alone, he turned his body a bit so Amelia was shielded. But he quickly recovered, steadying his breathing and realizing neither he nor his daughter were in any immediate danger.

The whole week of work, specifically today, had been so hectic and stressful that Bucky kept forgetting his birthday was just around the corner.

Now he was facing what looked to be every person he’d ever met in his life.

All of the Howlies were laughing and cheering at his arrival. Someone had already started up the music again. People were talking amongst themselves now that the surprise had been delivered.

Grayson and Owen came running out of the crowd, Y/N slowly walking behind them with a warm smile.

“Were you surprised, dad?” The twins both asked excitedly.

“Sure was,” he laughed as he mess up both of their hair.

“Did you spoil the surprise, Amelia?” Grayson asked his little sister, who was still in her dads arms. His eyes were filled with suspicion.

She glared and shook her head before nuzzling closer to her father.

“No, she didn’t ruin anything. She could be a spy,” Bucky defended.

Now Y/N had made her way to them.

“You,” he playfully glared at his wife. “Come here.” She laughed and stepped closer, earning a kiss from him. “You plan all this for me, troublemaker?”

She barely pulled away from his lips, “Maybe.”

“Thank you, doll. You didn’t have to do this.”

Y/N shrugged. “I was just a little worried after you told me how bad your day was going. I thought maybe this would be all be too much.”

“Of course not,” he assured her.

He moved her lips to his ear. “I’m sorry about the lights and screaming, I tried to tell them not to do it. But everyone was really committed already,” Y/N muttered to him so no one else could hear, proving that she caught how he’d reacted to the surprise.

He kissed her again. “It’s fine, Y/N.” 

Even after all these years, Bucky was still amazed at how well they could read each other.

Then Y/N grabbed Amelia from his arms. “Now, I’ll take this one, because you got a lot of people who want to wish you a happy birthday.”

As soon as Y/N stepped away and took the kids with her, Bucky was bombarded with people giving him hugs and saying hi.

All of the Howlies were there, along with their partners and kids. He spotted his mom and sister talking to Y/N’s family. Some of Y/N’s friends who had become Bucky’s friends were there too. It was like their usual Howlie gatherings – but magnified and with all the attention on Bucky.

He could’ve gone without the attention, but he enjoyed having all the important people in his life all in one place.

An hour later, he found Steve running the grill.

“Alright, punk, I know you were responsible for this too,” Bucky growled.

They’d just seen each other at the garage a few hours ago.

“I may have helped a bit,” Steve confessed through a mischievous smile.

“How’d you all keep it a secret? Especially, Sam – that idiot can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“I fucking heard that!” Sam shouted from over Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky laughed and gave Sam an unapologetic shrug.

“That wife of yours did most of the work. I felt like I was back in the military with the way she had everything organized and dished out jobs to all of us.”

Bucky laughed at that, picturing Y/N giving out orders to his biker gang.

Hours later, Y/N had put the kids to bed and the adults really got down to celebrating. 

She was starting to get worried with the amount of shots and drinks people were thrusting onto Bucky. The man could hold his alcohol, but he was still just a human.

“I’m going to end up carrying that man to bed, aren’t I?” Y/N asked Sam and Nat as they sat around a fire.

The three of them drew their attention to Thor and Clint who were shoving another shot onto Bucky.

“Make him find his own way to the couch,” Sam chuckled.

“This is why you’d make a bad boyfriend,” Nat smirked.

“What?” Sam yelled. “I’m a great boyfriend!”

“Yeah?” Nat asked. “Where’s your girlfriend now? Oh, yeah, you don’t have one…”

Lo and behold, Y/N did have to practically drag her drunk husband to their bedroom.

Some of the Howlies who were more sober offered to stay back and help clean up. Even when Y/N turned them down, they ignored her and started getting to work. She wouldn’t be surprised if she came downstairs tomorrow morning to find her house cleaner than it was before the party.

Bucky’s arm was around Y/N’s shoulder as she navigated him through their home.

“You’re the best wife anyone in the world could ever have,” Bucky slurred to her.

Y/N laughed, “I am?”

“Of course.”

“OK. Well, your wife needs some help on your end to get you up these stairs.”

And to his credit, he made it up them without requiring much of Y/N’s help.

When they got to his bedroom, he flopped down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling.

Y/N started unlacing his foots and taking off his jeans.

“Shirt to bed or no shirt?” She asked him.

“No shirt!”

She smiled at him. “Shorts or sleeping in just your briefs?”

“Briefs!”

Y/N nodded.

“Well, I was planning on ending the night with more fun. But I don’t think you’re exactly in the right state for that…” She teased him.

Bucky chuckled. “Probably for the best.”

He was currently fighting the spins. So, as much as he wanted to have sex with his beautiful and sexy wife, it probably wouldn’t end well for him.

Y/N went to take off her makeup, wash her face, and brush her teeth.

She found one of Bucky’s old t-shirts and threw it on, forgoing any type of short or pants.

“Come here, doll.” Bucky demanded, sounding far more sober than he should. 

“Are you gonna behave?” Y/N asked him as she pointed a finger at him.

“Yes, ma’am. I just want cuddles.” Then he smiled like a goof. “It’s my birthday, so I get what I want.”

Y/N chuckled and shook her head at him, but did as he requested and climbed into bed with him. Bucky instantly pulled her on top of his chest and wrapped his arms around her.

“Thank you for tonight,” he sighed and kissed the top of her head.

“I’m glad you had fun.”

“I love you, Y/N.” His voice proving that he was just moments away from passing out.

“Love you too, Buck.”

And barely 30 seconds later, Y/N’s ears were filled with Bucky’s drunken snores.

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

Thank you to the anon who sent this in and inspired me.  Let me know what you guys think :)  

[taking-over-his-life]

The old shop

Written by my old friend Colt.

On a bright autumn day, when the low angle of the sun, the sudden warmth of Indian summer, and the riot of scarlet and yellow leaves all cast a spell over the Virginia countryside, I set off for a drive, with the car windows rolled down. Intense glare alternated with deep shadow, as the road wound through fields and woods. It led to a town called Hapsburg, where it became Main Street, nearly deserted on Saturday afternoon. I parked along the sidewalk, and got out to stretch my legs.

The buildings were of red brick or painted clapboard, one or two stories. Shop windows were empty, or contained faded posters, long out of date. I walked past a café, a drugstore, a lawyer's office, and a barbershop, all closed. Next came a shop that sold old furniture, chipped plates, sentimental pictures, obsolete farm tools—the debris of former households, past lives.

In the display window, draped over the back of a chair, as though the wearer left it there minutes ago, and would soon reclaim it, was a black leather jacket. Creased and scuffed, it had evidently seen hard use. So casually was it thrown on the wooden chair—was it also for sale? I tried the latch, and the ancient shop door opened. A bell jingled sharply overhead, as I stepped inside.

A pale, thin man seated behind a counter barely looked up from his newspaper. His eyes were watery blue or gray, and his hair was sparse, showing the scalp. I pretended to look at a dusty shelf of books, then wandered to the back of the shop, which seemed to have nothing of value. At last, I returned to the front. Except for the man at the counter, there was no one else.

The black leather jacket was compelling. I touched a sleeve—the leather was thick and heavy. I searched for a tag, a price, a label, but found nothing. On the shoulder, a red patch bore the legend: "Hapsburg Motor Patrol." "Go ahead," the man said. His voice was unexpectedly clear and strong, despite his age. "Try it on. You'll be the first, since it just came in. Who knows, this may be your lucky day."

I slipped my arms into the sleeves, shrugged the weight of the leather over my back, and tried the zipper, which worked smoothly.

"A perfect fit," the man said, "like it was custom-made for you. There's a mirror, if you don't believe me."

It was uncanny, but the old leather jacket did fit perfectly. Stiff yet pliable, it was already molded to my shape, broken in by the previous owner.

"Whoever wore it must have had exactly the same upper body size," the man said.

"So you don't know who owned it?" I asked. "Anything about him?"

"Not a clue."

"What about the patches? Will I be arrested for impersonating a police officer?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. The town police department disbanded years ago, when the county took over everything—schools, taxes, roads, jail. The county police wear a different uniform, not that red patch. As it stands now, that jacket is a collector's item, a genuine Hapsburg Motor Patrol issue. Quality leather—they don't make them like that any more. The badge is missing, of course. It went in that reinforced hole in the chest."

The leather creaked, as I flexed my arms and walked to and fro. I inhabited the jacket, inhaled the smell of leather, and felt slightly giddy.

"There's plenty of wear left in that jacket. It will keep you warm on the road, and protect you in case of a spill. When you're riding, that is. Yes, sir, it fits you like a glove."

"How much do you want for it?" I asked, trying not to sound desperate.

"That depends on how much you want it," he answered, suddenly shrewd. His pale eyes glittered in the shadowy interior.

Though I detest haggling, I was unable to take off the jacket. I named a price, a round number, which I hoped was low. To my surprise, the man instantly agreed.

"Sold!" he shouted, as though at an auction.

I reached for my wallet, anxious to complete the transaction before he changed his mind, or before I did.

"Like I said, that leather jacket was meant for you. What are the odds that someone would walk in here, exactly the right build, with an eye for police memorabilia?"

"So you don't know where it came from?"

"Sorry, my friend. It could have been someone cleaning out an attic, getting a house ready for sale, winding up an estate. Wait! Now that you mention it, some other things came in with the jacket. Here's a helmet, the standard police type."

He handed me a white helmet, and I lowered it over my head. Snug, but comfortable. I started to ask the price, but he cut in.

"At no additional cost—special today. And check out these beauties." He rummaged behind the counter, and produced a pair of black leather riding boots.

"Somewhat the worse for wear, but you can replace the heels, and shine them up like new. Here, try them on."

Hurriedly, I untied my shoes, and shoved my feet into the tall boots, folding my pants inside the cylindrical shaft. Amazingly, the boots fit. I wiggled my toes, rocked from side to side, and strode a few paces. Like the jacket, the boots felt eerily right, as though I had worn them for years. Looking in the mirror, I caught my breath.

Instead of the man who entered the shop, an ordinary citizen like millions of others, I saw a police officer, a motorcycle cop, a figure of speed and power, a member of an elite squad, albeit from decades before. The fantasy was exhilarating.

"Do you want a bag?"

Abruptly, I remembered where I was, in a dusty junk shop, in a forgotten country town. I took off the helmet.

"No bag, thanks. I'll wear it."

"What about your shoes?"

"Oh. . . yes."

I handed the man my shoes, which he dropped into a crumpled paper bag. He handed the bag back to me, with a wink of his gray eye.

Jacketed and booted, as though dressed for a costume ball, I exited the shop, and blinked in the dazzling sunlight. The air was growing cooler, and the sun would soon set. With the helmet under one leather sleeve, and clutching the paper bag, I strode to my car for the drive home, through the inflamed countryside.

In the following weeks, as the weather turned cold and windy, I sometimes wore the leather jacket. As promised, the thick, back skin kept me warm. It did not attract attention, other than a smile or nod of approval. The thrill I felt on first putting it on mellowed, and in a way, I grew into the jacket.

One day, it occurred to me to search the pockets. An inner zipper revealed a small black and white photograph of a man standing beside a motorcycle. He appeared to wear the same jacket and boots, with the same white helmet on his head. He also wore a police badge, a silver star on his chest. His posture was upright and confident. The photograph bore no identification, no name or date. It was impossible to tell the man's age, or where the photograph was taken. Still, I was convinced that this was the officer who owned the items I had bought.

His uniform included a pair of riding breeches, tailored snug at the calf and flared at the thigh, almost as though inflated. It was a picturesque style, something that went out of fashion long ago. I could not recall ever seeing such a uniform on the street. In color, the riding breeches were dark, with areas of sheen. Were they made of black leather, too? I placed the photograph in a dresser drawer.

Though out of sight, the image haunted me. Who was this man, in purely physical aspects so much like me? What were his tastes, his habits, his personality? What was the police officer's story?

With no conscious intention, I began to read classified ads for used motorcycles, and I looked more closely at those I passed in the street. I wondered what type of motorcycle my officer rode. What type would a small-town police department be likely to have? When a neighbor parked a motorcycle in his front yard, a machine much like the one in the photograph, with a "For Sale" sign attached to the seat, I did not hesitate.

The neighbor, an engineer who would soon move to another city to start a new job, taught me how to ride the motorcycle, and he gave me advice on maintenance and repair. My luck continued in the form of a mild winter, which allowed me to ride on weekends, gradually learning how to handle the motorcycle on narrow roads, and in traffic. Though not especially powerful, it was quick and responsive. I wore my leather jacket, boots and helmet, of course, and sturdy jeans. By spring, I had become a confident, if careful, motorcyclist.

One Saturday, as the trees were coming into leaf, and the air was newly fragrant, I set off to ride through the green landscape. I started with no destination, but the road became familiar, as it wound through fields and woods. Just as it did six months before, it led to Hapsburg. Slowly, I cruised Main Street, looking for the old shop where I had bought the leather jacket, the same one I was wearing. Not seeing it, I turned around, and rolled in the opposite direction, but still failed to find the dusty display window. I parked, pulled off my helmet, and stood in the middle of the street, baffled.

A place I did not remember, a combination art gallery and custom frame shop, hinted at economic revival. Clean, freshly painted, with a gleaming steel and glass door, it was open for business. I entered, and at once was greeted by a young man with black hair, dark brown eyes, and an eager smile. After browsing the drawings and paintings, all by local artists, I explained what I was looking for.

The young man grew solemn, and said he would be right back. He walked briskly to a storage room in back, and returned with a large envelope, which he handed to me. Scrawled on the envelope, as a kind of address, was the phrase:

"For the man in the leather jacket, when he returns."

I studied the envelope for a moment, then asked:

"How can you be sure that this is for me?"

"The junk shop you describe was here, this space. I cleaned it out, renovated, put in new lights, and so on. A lot of work, you can imagine. The previous tenant passed away, I was told, and he left the shop as you saw it. I never met him—a retired police officer. Nothing of the contents was worth saving, but I did save one thing. That envelope was lying on the counter."

I lifted the flap, and extracted something heavy and pliable, made of black leather.

"Looks like a pair of pants," said the young man, clearly interested.

"Yes," I said, "or riding breeches. I saw them in a photograph."

"Awesome! They match your jacket and boots. Want to try them on?"

"I don't need to. They're exactly my size. Don't ask how I know."

"Okay, I won't. Strange things happen, even in Hapsburg. But here's the really strange part. They told me that the old man passed away more than a year ago. So how could you have met him here last fall?"

I shrugged my shoulders, and the leather jacket creaked. I slid the breeches back in the envelope, and tucked it under my thick black sleeve.

"Thanks," I said, turning to leave. "And good luck with the shop."

[strayen-fx]

Counting Stars

Bang Chan x reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

○○○

You felt something so right by doing the wrong thing.

You were never a party person--you were never a people person, actually. You hated crowds, especially crowds that contain more than three human beings.

And that is precisely why your parents were more than surprised when you told them you were going to prom.

It was already D-Day, and the mix of shock and interest in the faces of your folks would have made you feel so guilty. But, for some reason, you were feeling nothing at the time but excitement. You told them your friend's date ditched them on the last minute--lie--and that they needed company for the night--another lie. Maybe. You hoped it wasn't a lie. You really wanted to believe that your friend wants your company.

You told them your friend has already rented something for you, and that you were going to get fixed in their house. When your parents asked you to take some pictures, you rolled your eyes and reasoned: "Going to prom is uncomfortable enough. Do I really need to do something even more uncomfortable?"

Do you need a ride home? "I'd stay with my friend overnight."

What time will you get home? "I don't know." Truth.

Your parents were too surprised, and also too excited by the fact that you were trying to get out of your comfortable box, that they didn't bother to question you any further. They trusted you and your decisions. You were their quote-baby-unquote, but you were big enough to handle yourself. They were holding on to that.

And so, before your parents could change their minds, you headed straight towards Chan's home.

°°°

"You can't be serious."

"Why wouldn't I be serious?"

After spending a few hours watching Interstellar (Chan's choice), you stepped out into the early night in your hooded sweater, jeans and sneakers. Chan was sporting an almost identical look, and together, the two of you looked like a pair of troublemakers heading off to wreak some havoc.

You pointed at Chan's motorcycle. "You expect me to ride that machine of destruction? Do you even know the fatality rates? They're crazy. Over the last year--"

Chan laughed, cutting you off. He expected that kind of response. "No need to pull a PowerPoint presentation, Y/N." He placed his hands on your shoulders and tried to meet your eyes. "This night is all about 'getting out of your comfortable box,' remember? This is the first step."

"The first step was lying to my parents," you corrected him.

"Touché. So this is the second step."

"Being twin masked-riders prowling the night? That is our second step?"

You tried to remind yourself that this is Chan: resident troublemaker, outlier, the obvious suspect. Of course he's using a bike. Sure, he's got a huge black bike that he probably uses for his personal illegal matters. Or at least, that was what people said about him. You have believed such rumors for, what, three years?

And then, a week ago, the two of you were brought together for a school project. You finally realized that all of the rumors were just that: rumors. Made to taint his reputation, because people need Chan, you know? They need guys like Chan so they could point their finger towards someone else and say: that's the bad guy.

One week of being with him was enough to erase all the negative impressions that had seeped into your mind. It was enough time for you to realize that everyone else was just... well, blind.

Chan grinned, handing you his spare helmet. "There's a whole big world to see. You won't see any of it if you won't move your feet forward."

°°°

Chan felt something so wrong by doing the right thing.

Given, you were the one who suggested the whole thing: ditching prom, having a night drive all across town (not in a bike, though--that wasn't part of your plan). But still, when you clamped your arms tightly around his waist, Chan felt something tug at his insides. It was a foreign feeling, but his mind knew it was something wrong. Something he shouldn't be feeling, especially not towards someone like you.

You were the poster picture of a good kid. Headed off to an Ivy League school, offered scholarships, loved by teachers and the school board. He was almost the exact opposite.

He has also been a regular talk of the school body, but not because of his achievements or anything of the sort. He was labelled a rebel, a scapegoat, someone who is always off to no good. Because he got a kid hospitalized for messing with his friends back in freshman year.

The kid tried to tingle with the breaks of Lee Felix's car. It would have caused a major accident costing the lives of more than five people, but that part of the story didn't matter. News that Chan has some tendencies began circulating, and the label stuck until senior year.

Once people see a small stain in you, they begin seeing nothing else but that stain. It's hard to get out of a label, especially if people were seeming to enjoy seeing you crumble. Chan didn't crumble, of course. He stood tall. But still.

He felt like you being with somebody like him was just plain wrong.

He wanted to give you the chance to step out of your comfort zone and see the vastness of the world. You deserved at least that. So when you approached him with your special request, he didn't have the heart to decline. You trusted him despite everything you may have heard from him. That was more than enough for Chan.

He wondered if you could hear his heart pounding through his back.

°°°

"Chan.... this is so.... beautiful."

Chan entered the woods, and for a moment you were genuinely afraid for your life. But then a serene lake came into your view, and you knew it was the right decision to trust him.

Chan parked a few meters from the water. You immediately took your helmet off and ran towards the bay, your hands clutched over your heart in deep admiration. You have always loved water -- it helps you calm down, especially during those times when you felt like being you was the biggest mistake you've ever committed.

"I have no idea we have a lake around here," you said, smiling widely.

Chan grinned. "You can't find it in the books, wise girl."

You jokingly glared at him before staring back into the water. You thought: Chan's right. There is a whole big world to see.

If I have Chan, maybe I can start seeing the world around me.

The lake was glistening faintly, the moonlight reflecting off its surface. It was nothing special, really--just another lake in a small town under the vast collection of stars, but being with you there made Chan feel like he was standing at the top of the freaking world.

And at that moment, Chan felt so weak.

°°°

It has been at least an hour since you arrived at the lake. Chan took out a blanket and some snacks, and the two of you sat talking as you watched the stars in the night sky. Actually, it was mostly you doing the talking, which was out of character. Chan was oddly quiet and distracted.

And you were afraid. Not of Chan, of course, but of the invisible wall that has suddenly appeared between the two of you.

"Hey. Is everything all right?"

Chan nodded, his expression stone-hard and unreadable. "I just kinda think we should go home now."

"What?" You checked your watch. "It's not even midnight, Chan. Is anything wrong?"

He pursed his lips. Then he began standing up, collecting your trash into a small plastic bag. "Come on."

You stood up, confused and exasperated. "What is wrong with you?"

"Everything!" Chan shouted. You flinched. His gaze softened and he continued, "Everything is wrong with me, Y/N. You shouldn't even be talking to me."

And you understood. You understood what he was talking about.

"Chan..." You reached for his hands and held them within yours, relieved that he didn't try to yank them back. "Look at me. I know what those guys say about you. I have heard of all the rumors, the bad words, the accusations. They say you're unpredictable, that you hurt people, that you're...." You sighed. "But I also know that they're not true. Chan, in just a matter of week you have shown me how beautiful this world is. You taught me how to see things in a different perspective. You have shown me how to break free from my mechanical life. Hell, you even made me ride a bike."

A soft laugh escaped Chan's lips. You smiled. You brought your hand to his chest, right over his thumping heart.

"Chan. I know you better than those people. Their opinions do not matter. This heart? This heart contains all majestic and spectacular things. This heart contains the most amount of kindness I have ever felt. This heart gave me warmth. I hope you could realize how much you're worth. How beautiful you are. How ethereal you are. How--"

Your words were cut off with the feeling of Chan's lips on yours.

He was warmth and radiance and perfection, and though the kiss only lasted for a few seconds, it has left your mind in a swirling haze of euphoria.

You thought: He kissed me.

You thought: Did that happen? Did that just happen?

Chan pulled you into a tight hug, and nothing else mattered anymore. You hugged him back, easing yourself into the comfort of his wildly beating heart.

"Let's stay like this, yeah?" Chan said, and he meant something much more than embracing each other under the moonlight.

You giggled. "Until we have finished counting the stars."

Chan smiled. "Until the universe run out of stars."

[ikenbar]

Mr. Love: Ike’s Choice CH4 PT2

Warnings: tips for the swear jar, fluff, and angst. like a lot of it. from almost all the boys. Lucien’s out. Sorry Lucy stans. also cliffhangers. not as epic as the Chapter three but cliffhangers nonetheless

(Chapter Four (Victor and Gavin) Prologue, and part one, and part three coming soon!)

Please read the author’s note (and the beginning of the story) on chapter one part one if you’re new here :D

Chapter four:

Part two:

“Hello?” Kiro’s agent, Savin, answered in a business-like tone.

“Hey Savin. It’s… uh… Super Stranger.” I cringed, avoiding eye contact with the curious Adri.

“Say no more.” Savin’s smile shone through the phone. Music played as he put the call on hold. Savin held on to Kiro’s phone when he was filming. I prayed I wasn’t interrupting anything, but I also couldn’t wait to hear Kiro’s voice again. 

After a few long and agonizing seconds, the call was picked up again.

“Hello?” Kiro’s voice sounded both panicked and expectant. I kept Adri in my peripherals as took a deep breath.

“Hey Kiro. It’s me.” 

Adri’s head snapped to attention.

“Super Stranger!?” Kiro exclaimed happily over the phone, “Oh thank goodness you’re alright! Are you ok? You weren’t hurt were you?”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” I reassured, “Just... a slight cough. From the smoke.” Kiro sighed deeply.

“I’m so glad.” His voice was devoid of the obvious tenseness that it had before. I cringed and tapped my leg nervously.

 “I’m sorry I worried you.”

“Don’t be. I’m just relieved to hear you’re doing alright.” Kiro sounded earnest. I felt the tension in my shoulders ease slightly. “Where are you? Let me come visit you!” Kiro giddly added. My heart jumped. The tension was back.

“A-aren’t you in the middle of a shoot? Wouldn’t Savin get mad that you’re leaving?”

“I’m sure Savin would understand if I cut a little early to visit you! Especially if I use my patented Kiro puppy dog eyes!”

“I would hate for you to get into trouble because of me.” I cringed slightly. I had raised my voice and the burning in my throat returned. I cleared my throat softly and continued, “Besides, I need to keep my secret identity, right?”

“I think there is an exception when it comes to explosions.” Kiro laughed but I could tell it was forced, “...Stranger, I want to make sure you’re ok. Can I please come see you?” My stomach turned. Who could say no to that man?

...

 I could.

“You will see me. In two weeks.” I said in my usual tactless tone. “As much as I want you here, it’s just not safe. People will find you and end up causing a riot at the hospital. We could be putting the lives of the patients here at risk. I’m sorry, Kiro, but my answer is no.” After a moment of silence Kiro sighed again.

“There you go again. Thinking of others’ well being before your own.” Kiro sounded as if he were smiling but his tone made it obvious that he was disappointed in my response, “Alright. I’ll stay. But you need to promise me you will call me everyday you’re in the hospital. And then everyday after that!!” I sighed, relaxing my shoulders once again.

“Ok. You have my word.”

“Good! Then I will be a faithful sidekick and answer!” There was some distant noise on Kiro’s end of the phone, “My break’s over so I’ll have to talk to you later. Make sure you call me, ok?” 

“Alright. Talk to you soon.”

“Drink lots of fluids and stay down, ok?”

“I will!” I rolled my eyes. Those words were getting old, “Goodbye, Kiro.”

“Bye, Super Stranger!”

I put the phone back onto the keypad and cleared my throat. I needed some water... 

After a moment of stalling, I finally looked over to Adri. Her eyes were huge and her mouth hung open. “Close your mouth please, Adri, we are not a codfish.” I casually returned my voice to whisper as I plucked the cup from her hands and took a drink.

“YOU KNOW KIRO?!” Adri shouted. I winced.

“Not so loud!” I hissed, covering her mouth and looking at the door. She pulled my hand from her face and spoke in a quieter tone.

“When?! How?! Where?! Wait, why didn’t you want him to come here? Is it because I’m here because I can leave as long as you take pictures-”

“Adri,” I held my hand up, cutting her off, “I met him a few weeks ago. I saved him from a car accident so he agreed to play a role in one of my upcoming shows as compensation. We are meeting in a couple of weeks to start filming. As for the reason why I don’t want him here, it isn’t because of you.” I avoided continuing the topic as I reached for the phone again. Adri stopped me.

“Then why?” She pressed. I paused.

“... He doesn’t know I was the one who saved him.” I said, looking down at my cup and avoiding Adri’s eyes, “In the office, I'm ruthless. I treat my employees with a little more harshness then Bart because that’s how I receive good results. But, because of that, it has tarnished my reputation as a person. People outside of the office think I am some sort of soul sucking tyrant. Hell, Victor thought I was a man at first. When I saved Kiro, I had my motorcycle helmet on. It masked my face and thus, my identity. If Kiro knew it was me, he no doubt would have refused my offer to have him on the show…" I paused a moment, thinking over that day, "... He called me his hero. I would do anything to keep that title.” 

Silence fell between Adri and me. I cleared my throat and reached for the phone again, but, before I could life it, I was stopped once again by Adri. I looked eyes with her. Her expression was soft and earnest.

“I don’t think you’re a soul sucking tyrant.” She said honestly. "And I'm sure if Kiro gave you the time then he will see it too. In fact, I'm sure that he will see you are the same hero that saved him that day. Even through your steel exterior, you can't hide that you're a good person." My heart skipped, stalling all of my movements momentarily.

“...You know,” I said, tilting my head slightly, “I have spent my whole life waiting to hear those words. Who knew it would come from some bratty teenager?”

"Hey!" Adri slapped my arm. I smirked and reached over to her, patting her head softly.

"Thanks, kid." I said earnestly, "It means a lot."

"Yeah, well, I mean it." Adri said, pulling my hand from her head, "You can talk to me about anything you know! Like, boys, your job, the reason why your company fucking exploded-"

"Woah! Swear jar, young lady!" I exclaimed, causing my throat to burn.

"I'll listen. After all, that’s what sisters do, right?"

I paused, "... you know, I've had tons of sisters before you but none of them have been so cool."

"Yeah, well," Adri leaned back in her chair, "I'm a rare breed."

I rolled my eyes and grinned. She sure was a keeper. Before I could be stopped a third time, I picked up the phone again and dialed the number I had dialed so many times before. I held the phone up to my ear, but didn't have to wait long as the line was picked up almost immediately.

“How is she?” Gavin’s voice was serious and resolute. He sounded as if he didn’t pick up the phone for small talk.

“...is this a bad time?” I asked warily, “I can call back later.”

“... I’m on my way.” And with that, Gavin hung up. I sat in shock for a moment, unable to fully grasp what had just happened. Nonetheless, I put the phone back down on the pad.

“He sounds like a hoot.” Adri said, her sarcastic tone returning. I hummed in mutual sarcasm and picked the phone up one last time. I dialed the number I had seen play on my screen numerous times in the rain. I prepared for a dial tone but was instead immediately met with the sharp voice of a machine. 

“I’m sorry but the person you have dialed has their phone off. Please leave a message and try again later.”

Lucien must be in a meeting. I moved to hang up...

 But I paused. 

I moved the phone back up to my ear and waited for the machine to finish it’s instructions. Once a sharp beep played, I spoke again, “Hey Lucien. It’s Ike. I don't know what you’ve heard but Ike ‘n Bar Productions… burned down. I’m fine. Bart’s fine. The company is ok. I’m just calling to let you know I’m-we are ok. I’m in the hospital but not for long. I know you would be telling me to rest and drink lots of fluids... but if you could give me some advice to speed up my time here, I’m all ears. You’re probably very busy with your trip so I won’t call you again until you call me. Goodbye.” I hung up the phone and sighed, then I grimaced and clutched my neck. My throat felt like it was going to catch flame.

“You should stop talking and rest.” Adri said, her voice noticeably softer than before as she handed me the cup, “But when you wake up, I expect more details on Kiro and the other boy you just called.” I smirked and nodded. Taking a drink, I layed down and closed my eyes. I didn’t sleep though. Thousands of thoughts plagued my mind. Ones on my employees and their well being, my company and where to go next, my family and how they’d be effected, Minor and the last I had seen him, Gavin’s serious tone, Lucien’s absence, Kiro’s disappointed voice,... Victor’s worried brow...

I must have been lost in my thoughts for quite a while before a knock came to the door. I opened my eyes and sat up. I opened my mouth to speak but was cut off by Adri. “Come in!” She called.  I flashed a frown at her, but she was quick to combat it with a snarky smirk. 

The door opened and a heavily armored police officer walked through it. He supported a bullet proof vest with various tools attached to the front of it. One of which being a radio playing the sound of static and an unfamiliar voice. The officer turned his radio off and approached my bed. His helmet blocked his face and made the sense of danger that he radiated even more intense. 

“Officer,”  I straightened myself in the bed, “How may I help you?” The officer froze. After a moment, he seemed to realize something then took off his helmet. I coughed slightly as I gasped, “Holy crud, Birdcop!? I almost didn’t recognize you!” 

Gavin looked around the room then locked eyes with Adri. Her face suddenly burned a bright red. “Would you mind giving us a second?” He asked Adri seriously. Adri swallowed and nodded quickly as she stood up.

“I sh-should r-refill her water anyway.” Adri chuckled nervously. She looked over to me, eyes wide and lips thin, “I’ll be outside if you need me.” Adri took my cup and walked briskly out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

“Woah,” I grinned slightly, “That is the first time I’ve seen her that flustered! You must have a way with teenage girls.” Gavin stalled by the end of my bed. I looked up, locking onto his eyes. He cleared his throat and took a pad and pencil from one of the pockets in his vest. He walked around the bed and took a seat in Adri’s chair. Gavin started writing something down, avoiding my eyes. For some reason, I had felt a strange presence from him. The same presence I would feel in an interrogation room. But, for some reason I felt like the suspect instead of the victim. 

“You look pretty heavily suited up for a hospital visit.’’ I joked, trying to lighten the tense air.

“I was in the middle of a mission when you called.” Gavin deadpanned, eyes still on the paper.

“Oh,” Guilt crushed my chest, “I’m sorry. If you need to leave-”

“What can you tell me about the bombing?” Gavin interrupted, finally looking up and locking eyes with me. His tone was serious, making me feel even more uneasy.

“Which one?” I teased, fidgeting under his stare.

“Both.” Gavin squinted his eyes slightly. My stomach dropped. Gavin studied my face for a moment, then continued, “Back at the warehouse, in the room where the bomb was hidden, there was something there, wasn’t there? Something that you’re keeping from me.” My body tensed and my expression fell. Gavin’s stare deepened.

“Why are you bringing up the warehouse now?” I asked, voice deeper then I intended. My throat burned slightly, “I’m in the hospital for a different reason.”

“You were in two explosions within the span of a week.” Gavin snapped, “That is no coincidence.”

I hurriedly searched for excuses. “The one in the warehouse was a demolition bomb. The bomb that hit me a couple of days ago was an incendiary bomb.”

“That doesn’t change a thing.” Gavin was getting impatient.

“On the contrary.” I adjusted myself in the bed confidently, “The incendiary bomb was thrown into my office. Whoever threw it had to know it was my office.”

“Yeah, and?”

“I fired a man a couple of weeks ago. He threatened me just before he left.”

“What?! Why didn’t you say anything to me about this?”

“Because, genius, a couple of weeks ago I hated you. In fact, it was that very day that we ran into Hickman.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“The man I fired couldn’t have known that I would fire him weeks prior to setting up the attack with Hickman. Not even I knew I was going to fire him then. They aren’t connected but my old employee has motive to throw a ‘fire’ bomb at my office. Because I ‘fired’ him.” Gavin’s expression didn’t change. I pushed further, “And besides, how was the man who made the bomb in the warehouse supposed to know that I was the one who was going to find that hidden room first?”

“There could have been a camera.” Gavin finally said.

“Why would he have a camera if he was planning to blow the place up anyway?” I retorted. Gavin thought for a moment longer, then sighed.

I was trapped.

“All of those points are purely speculation unless you can find proof for it. But you still haven’t answered my question.” Gavin leaned closer to me, “What was behind that wall, Ikamara?” Gavin’s eyes had locked on to mine. There was no way he would let the question slide this time. 

“...Pictures.” I almost couldn’t get the words out.

“Pictures?” Gavin pried, clicking his pen in preparation.

“Pictures of… evolvers. Taken in precarious places as if the photographer was unwilling to be seen.”

“Was there anything else?” Gavin returned his eyes to his notepad, scribbling a few notes and making it easy for me to twist the truth even farther.

“There was a map of Loveland… and… something else.” I sighed and tapped at my leg, “The words, ‘Operation Montu’ were hung on a banner on top of the wall. As if to say whomever had put all that stuff there has more planned.” Gavin finished writing and looked up to me, the once serious face now held anger.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

I looked back and forth between his eyes, holding back my tongue. Gavin’s expression shifted slightly. Eventually, I just sighed resignedly and pulled my eyes away from him.

“... there were pictures of me on the wall. I didn’t want to tell you and then be taken off of the case. You risked your life at The Wall when evolvers’ lives were put on the line. You left without me having a say in anything.. I know what it’s like to not want to be talked down from something. I just… didn’t want you to do it again on your own.” 

A pregnant pause weighed heavily on the room. I clenched my fists in response and tried to calm my beating heart enough to stop Gavin from hearing it.

“... I didn’t put my life at risk for the sake of evolvers at that night.” Gavin’s voice was gentle. I looked up at him. His expression had dramatically softened. His shoulders also looked as if they had relaxed and he seemed to have gotten a little closer to me. 

His eyes immediately locked onto mine, causing my heart to skip a beat and for me to involuntarily avert my eyes from his and back onto my bed. After slight movement from next to me, Gavin reached over and tugged at my face. His fingers were warm from being in his gloves for so long. The warmth made me lean into his movements and bring my eyes back onto his, settling like they had before.

“Ike,” His voice had become an octave lower, “I’m a cop. I put my life at risk everyday for the sake of the city. But that night… you were the only one I was thinking about.” My heart leaped to my throat. Gavin looked me seriously in the eyes. Much too seriously. 

“You’re going to get yourself killed by doing that.” I smirked slightly and pulled his hand from my face. Gavin chuckled and slid his fingers into the palm of my hand.

“It would have been worth it.” He said, squeezing his hand in mine. My smile raised slightly as I directed my eyes back down to our hands. I could feel the warmth of Gavin’s calloused fingers tingle through my hand and up my arm… 

I had missed that warmth.

The last time I had felt it was-...

 An image of Gavin’s lifeless body flashed in my mind. Suddenly the hand in mine felt foregin. 

“Welp,” I cleared my throat and straightened myself, letting go of Gavin’s fingers, “I don’t want to hold you from your work any longer.” Gavin cleared his throat as well and nodded.

“Right.” He said, standing up, “I’ll let you know when I am back so we can discuss this case further.” 

“Right.” I leaned back onto the bed, lost in thought, “Thanks.”

“No problem. And don’t worry about being kicked from the case.” Gavin said reassuringly, “As long as it wasn’t just your picture on the wall, you’ll be ok.”

“Cool.” I said, avoiding his eyes and nodding, “Good to know.” Gavin popped opened back up the pouch for his notepad... then paused.

“...One more thing.” Gavin sat back down and pulled my arm towards him. He reached into his pouch and pulled something from it. Before I could get a good look at it, he set it in my hand. In the middle of my palm was a silver chain with a small dove sitting on it. Memories of when I was thirteen came flooding back to me. Memories of sitting at the park, bandaging my new scars and shoving away tears from my eyes. A flourish of wind and flower pedals greeted my face as a group of beautiful doves flew in front of me, beautifully…  freely…

“Ike,” Gavin broke the memory I found myself lost in, “Are you ok?”

I slowly nodded and pulled my gaze back to him, “Why are you giving me this?”

“I put a tracker in it.” Gavin took back the bracelet, “The next time you are in danger, I’ll be able to respond instantly.”

“Next time?” I asked as he wrapped the bracelet around my wrist, “Are you making plans that I should know about?” Gavin flashed me a raised eyebrow and a smirk as he messed with the clasp. After a bit of fumbling, he finished clipping on the bracelet, allowing it to dangle from my wrist nicely. I pulled it closer to me, touching the charm delicately.

“It’s beautiful.” I found myself saying without realizing it.

“I’m glad you like it.” I looked up and caught Gavin staring at me. His eyes were just as gentle as they were before. I held on to them a moment longer before pulling myself from them.

Gavin stood back up. “I should get going.” I hummed in response, admiring the charm once more. Gavin walked to the door.

As Gavin watched Ike struggle to maintain her tough image, memories from before flashed in his mind. It was hard to think that just a little while ago, they were at each other’s throats. But now, 

“Be safe.” I said quietly. Gavin stopped in his steps. Realizing what I had just said, I added, “Or don’t. You know. Do whatever you want. It’s your life. Don’t listen to me...” My voice trailed off. I shoved my hands together as my face burned. 

>

“I will.” Gavin reassured, redirecting my attention to him, “I promise.” A soft smile rose on my lips. I moved to cover it up but it was too late. Gavin’s ears burned as his smile grew as well. What had happened to us? We went from anger, to bickering, to teasing, to...

He hadn’t remembered the last time he had felt this drawn to someone.

>

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Two-Meters-Too-Thick-Vest!” I scoffed.

Gavin cleared his throat and turned back to the door. “That hospital gown makes you look fat by the way.” My smile dropped.

And we are back to teasing.

“I’m just saying that you should try to get out of it as soon as you can!” Gavin held his hands up as he opened the door, “I’ll let your sister back in.”

“Thanks,” I rolled my eyes then paused a moment, “...hey.” I called to him. Gavin paused at the door, “...Your vest doesn’t really make you look fat.” Gavin turned back to me, his eyebrow raise handsomely. “You do a good enough job of that on your own.” I added. Gavin’s smile fell as mine raised. He sighed and rolled his eyes as he left the room,  closing the door behind him.

That man… 

Footsteps came from the door. I looked over and watched as Adri walked into the room, red faced and holding my newly refilled water carefully.

 “What’s with the face?” I asked, knowing full well what the answer was. Adri dazily looked up to me, eyes dreamy and smile soft.

“Who was that?” She asked, dazed.

“My neighbor, Gavin." I said, struggling to suppress an ever increasing grin, "He’s the police officer working my bombing case. Why?” 

“If you don’t invite him over for dinner, I will.” Adri sat back in her seat and held her face in the palm of her hand.

“Oh really?” I finally released a grin and folded my arms, “I’ll tell him you said that.”

“Don’t!!” Adri lunged at me to stop me from picking the phone up.

>>>

It had gotten dark outside by the time Maria had come to pick up Adri. I was left alone in the hospital room with nothing but the tv to keep me company. Even then, I wasn’t paying attention to it. My mind was still all over the place. More specifically, it was on the black mask with a green scarab. 

Montu’s mask. 

Something about it was familiar. Why was it familiar? Where had I seen that before? And the name Montu. Where was that from? Where had I heard that name?

"The Ike 'n Bar company's fire has finally gone out."

Hearing my name come from the tv, I snapped out of my thoughts and focused my eyes on the screen. It was a news story about my company's building. I cringed as they showed the footage from what had happened before. I grabbed the remote to turn off the channel when my eyes locked onto a figure behind the reporter. He was tall and in a black suit… and strangely familiar. He seemed to be running around, helping people in the street. I squinted at the screen, trying to make out the face from the bed I was bound to. Before I could finally focus on him, his attention snapped to the front of the burning building. An aerial shot revealed a blooded, soot covered, feminine figure coming from the building. She stumbled and leaned on the front door for support. The man moved to her but the footage seemed to glitch as he was suddenly by her side, helping her up and off of the ground.  The man scooped up the woman and carried her away. Not to an ambulance or to a police officer but to a nearby car. 

I furrowed my eyebrows and kept my eyes on the screen, unsure of what to make of what I had just seen. From the blood stains on the girl’s shirt and the matted brown hair, it could have only really been one person. And from the suit to the raven colored hair...

“Penny for your thoughts?” A voice snapped me back to the attention of the room. I looked over to the door.

(Next)

[banashee]

Part 5 of my @badthingshappenbingo​ round 2

 With a bit of help

 Steve doesn’t run, but he very much wants to. His steps are wide and just quick enough so he can move as fast as humanly possible without making himself any more noticable. Walking quick won’t make him stand out in a busy street, but running would probably earn him some looks. It’s the last thing he wants right now.

 There is so much noise around here - chaotic traffic with honking cars and loud motors, people chatting, yelling, laughing. Somewhere, a toddler is crying. Phones are ringing left and right and people are shouting back into it.

 The noise on it’s own would be bad enough, but there are so many neon lights, and so many different smells - Steve wants to rip his own head off and bury it in cotton, so he doesn’t have to see or hear any more of it. It’s too much.

 Sometime, in the 70 years he was asleep in the ice, the world got really fucking loud. It’s close to unbearable, but how do you even begin to explain that?

 Luckily, it doesn’t take long for him to reach the SHIELD facility near Times Square. The street itself is one of his own personal nightmares. Steve isn’t sure if the reason for that is his less than pleasant awakening in the 21st century and the memories with this particular place, or if it is due to the fact that it is even brighter with flashing lights and video commercials here.  

 In any case, he is happy when he enters the sleek glass building. It’s busy, too, but not nearly as bad as outside.

 He smiles politely without really making eye contact at the people he crosses on the way back to his quarters. Once the door falls shut behind him, it’s like he deflates entirely. His hands are shaking, Steve notices, and he drops his bag onto the floor, next to his brand new, unused combat boots that they gave him. He didn’t have a mission yet - he’s itching for it, but at the same time isn’t sure what will be expected of him.

 With heavy limbs, feet dragging over the floor, Steve makes his way to the bed in the corner and collapses onto it.

 His ears are still ringing, his heart is still racing, and all he wants is just a moment of peace and quiet. Even the ticking of the clock sounds deafening to him, and he knows exactly what is happening in the rooms nearby.

 SHIELD barracks have paper thin walls, and his enchanted senses don’t help. In the room next to him, somebody is playing a video game. The gunshots and explosions are fake and Steve knows it, but he can’t help but flinch at the noise every time. It’s too much.

 Another room over, someone is having a heated but one sided argument - over the telephone, probably, if he had to guess.

 Across from him, it sounds like there are two people and - oh. Oh hell no. He really doesn’t want to listen to that, it would be incredibly rude.

 In an act of desperation, Steve crawls out of bed again and makes himself a pair of makeshift ear plugs out of toilet paper, then he buries his head under the pillow.

 He is shaking violently by now, wishing the world would be just a little bit calmer. It’s still so new, and he feels incredibly stupid, but he is absolutely overwhelmed with everything.

     There is a name for it, he learns later. Sensory Overload.

 That’s what he gets from typing “Why am I overwhelmed from noise, people and lights?” into the Google Thingy, and it makes a lot of sense. Unlucky for him, the only suggestion he can really find is to remove himself from the stressful environment, which is not always possible. Besides, he highly doubts that the articles he has been reading have taken a guy from the 40s who woke up in 2012 just a few weeks ago into account. His case is, admittedly, quite unique.

 “Quite Unique”, he knows, also means that getting help for The Thing is hard.

 Steve makes do with whatever he can, but it’s draining. Oftentimes, he’ll find himself collapsing into bed after a day around people, unable to stop shaking. The thing they gave him for alerts keeps beeping sometimes, even after hours, and he barely resists the urge to “accidentally” step on it one of these days.

 Then, aliens attack New York, and his life changes once again. He’s got a team now, even though their start was admittedly messy and his own attitude not the best.

 He has a chat with Stark, later, and they shake hands. Steve is not sure he’d call him or the others  “friends” at this point, but “friendly” for sure, and he trusts every single one of them. This has to be enough for now.

 Steve leaves the point of departure with a bag full of clothes on the back of his motorcycle and a mobile phone with a few numbers programmed into it. He isn’t sure if he’ll use it, but he figures it might be useful. Besides, they tell him that phone booths aren’t really a thing anymore, so better not rely on them.

 Steve intends to go see the country for a bit, drive wherever he sees fit at the moment.

 His plan to see the cities largely fails - much like New York, there is too much stress, too much noise. Steve can’t relax in any of those places, so he gives up and makes his way into much more rural areas.

 Back in the day, when he was with the army, he traveled the world, but he never managed to enjoy the sights, for obvious reasons. Now, he’s got all the time in the world to go watch the stars in a field where no light pollutes the air. He walks on a beach for the first time in ages, letting the feeling of water and sand around his feet wash over him.

 Luckily, he manages to grab a small, portable photo camera in a tourist shop. It’s a cheap, easy to use thing which he can deal with. There is a camera on his telephone, Stark said, but that doesn’t really seem necessary to him. He didn’t use the phone, but he keeps it charged - just in case.

 Two weeks after he left New York, his phone rings. The damn thing makes him jump and almost crash his motorcycle into a tree.

 Cursing, he pulls over to the side and fumbles it to answer. The sound of it ringing grinds his gears, and it takes every ounce of self control not to snap at whoever is at the other end.

 “Hello?”

 “Steve, hi. This is Natasha. Where are you right now?”

 “Oh, hey. I’m in Georgia right now - why? Am I needed back?”

 “We have a situation - sorry to interrupt your road trip. Can you please keep your phone on and wait at the nearest point accessible for the jet? We’ll pick you up on the way.”

 “Yes, of course. You will be able to find me?”

 “Already did.” it sounds like she’s smiling. “See you in about two hours, possibly sooner”

 When the jet sets down on an empty space of land, the ramp extends and Steve drives up there. The door closes behind him, and he is greeted by his team, already suited up. Thankfully, they brought his gear and his shield.

 The situation is messy and so is the fight they have to take part in, but all of them return to New York in one piece - small favors.

 When the jet settles down on the roof of the tower, it does so with little grace. A string of very colorful curses emerges from the cockpit, where Barton is ranting about shitty robots shooting at them and wheels that spontaneously fall off in the middle of landing, but other than that, they’re  fine.

 Internally, Steve has to agree with him, but externally, he keeps on a brave face. He refuses to lose it over this, although he very much would like to join in on banging his head against hard surfaces. Unfortunately, it’s just a bad look on a leader, so he remains calm.

 As soon as he steps out of the jet, the noises of the city drill into his brain, and it takes a lot of self control not to cringe at it. He’d gotten used to the peace and quiet of the countrysides, and even though he’d known it wouldn’t last forever, he already finds himself missing it.

 Thankfully, the inside of the tower is a lot more bearable. The walls must be thick and at least somewhat soundproof. It makes it easier to relax, and although the debrief takes a lot out of them all, they’re glad to be back.

 Before they shuffle off into different rooms to sleep off the last mission, Tony stops him on the way.

 “Oh hey, before you walk off - let me know if you’ll need anything specific, the apartments are in planning.”

 Steve blinks. “Apartments?”

 “Yeah. Here, for everyone. Didn’t I tell you?”

 “Uh, no?”

 “Oh. Here you go, then. We’ll move everyone in here and I need to know if you have any specific preferences. Layout, accommodations, furniture whatever. You can tell JARVIS, too, if you’d rather.”

 Before he can ask anything else or even say “thank you”, Tony has disappeared, leaving Steve standing there like he just got rolled over by a train. To be fair, this is the kinda feeling that most people have after talking to Tony when they’re not used to him, and Steve has been away for a while.

 He mulls over this on his way to a guest room. JARVIS is kind enough to explain the plans in more detail, which helps a lot because “Hey so, you’ll move in here for free, let me know if you want any stuff” is not what he expected to hear once he got back.

 Truth be told, it feels kind of weird and overwhelming, so he decides to shower, sleep and think about anything else later.

 As it turns out, the walls are soundproof in here - Steve falls asleep and wakes up in total silence, and he sighs in relief. Maybe, moving here wouldn’t be such a bad idea, especially since the tower is a lot more private and convenient than SHIELD barracks.

 When he makes his way to the kitchen for breakfast, there are voices and the clattering of plates, sizzling from the stove and gurgling off the coffee machine. His ears can pick up every single noise, but unlike the traffic on the streets or neighbours back at SHIELD, it’s not uncomfortable now that he is well rested and, most of all, got a break.

 Maybe, living here isn’t a bad idea. It’s an opportunity to get closer to the team, especially since everyone else will be around as well. So, Steve enters the kitchen to share breakfast with the other Avengers.

 He’ll figure out the rest.

*+~

Square 5/25: Sensory Overload

[windtempos]

Old Name, New Face

“The ACA’s new poster boy is an army vet with the best bionics money can buy. He can smile and wave and throw a punch, but that’s it. I would not put it past him to be taking orders from someone with an agenda that both you and I won’t like.”

Adya Prisham spent the first eight years of her career as the face of cybernetics; but now that she’s putting field work on the backburner, the American Cybernetics Association brings in a new poster boy. Charlotte Caelius, a mercenary with several bones to pick at any moment, has finally found someone she despises more than Adya.

Waking up would’ve almost been peaceful if Reese didn’t burst through the door and yank Adya’s charging port from her neck. She jolts upright with wide eyes, almost throwing a fist out to the side and punching a hole in the drywall. That’d be a hell of a story to explain to the neighbors upstairs.

Adya lets her body relax and buries her face in her hands. “You are going to be the death of me,” she mutters. “What the fuck was that for?”

“Come downstairs, right now. You have to see this.” Reese responds. Her girlfriend glares at how awake she sounds at eight in the morning. Nevertheless, she stretches her metal joints and stumbles down into the living room. You couldn’t tune out the reporter on the TV if you tried-- Reese has the volume deafeningly loud, but Adya blames it on her ears still adjusting to the abrupt awakening. This better be good, Adya thinks.

A shot of an amphitheatre packed with people fades into a closeup of a young man in an army uniform waving to the crowd. He stands with square posture and even blows a kiss or two to the crowd. Adya looks at her hands, then his. She notices the suggestion of a seam on his skin, much less conspicuous than her own.

“The American Cybernetics Association has introduced their newest diplomat: A young, Texas native with a bright smile and a knack for being on center stage,” the reporter goes on. “Casper Sable qualified for the mind transfer program and had his conscience successfully uploaded to his bionic body seven years ago; since then, he’s served with the US Army on countless successful missions.”

Adya groans. “You woke me up for some military propaganda?” she asks.

“Keep listening,” says Reese.

The screen fades to Casper, now in a sleek uniform with a stiff, white collar, standing at the end of a long row of others dressed the same. He salutes the commander with a hand over his chest and a casual grin.

“It looks like Adya Prisham may have some competition,” the reporter jokes.

“For those of you new to the world of bionics, Adya Milana Prisham became the first human conscience in a bionic body almost a decade ago,” her cohost continues after a light chuckle. “She’s been serving as an agent for the Goddard Institute of Cybernetics in Los Angeles, but recently stepped back from field work. Whether or not it’s a permanent decision remains to be seen. One thing’s for sure, though: the ACA is eager to put a fresh, new face out into the field. And this time, the field isn’t just LA-- it’s the whole world.”

“Corporal Casper Sable is now Agent Casper Sable. With his newly recognized status, the Sovereign Agent Program has recruited him to be a diplomat and a protector for communities all across the world. Truly an honor, isn’t it?”

Adya slumps back against the couch with a furrowed brow. She makes one change to her work, and the ACA has the gall to sideline her. All for a pretty white boy in uniform. It’s almost laughable, but her fists ball in her lap.

“The people need someone new, and putting him on the international stage will put vigor in the world of cybernetics that hasn’t been seen since the days of Adya Prisham.”

“They’re talking about me like I’m dead!” she shouts.

Reese shoots up from the couch and paces to the kitchen, downing what’s left of a cup of coffee on the counter. Her metal hands slap against the granite. “You busted your ass to be here,” she spits. “To come to the US, to become an agent, to be a role model-- not a celebrity, a role model. And the moment you make one personal decision, they decide to throw you out for some… bootlicking country boy with a big ego!”

Adya slips an arm over her girlfriend’s shoulders, insisting that they relax. Only a little bit of the tension subsides.

“You and I have both met sovereign agents,” Reese continues. “They’re recruited to be international peacekeepers not because of what they do, but who they are. He didn’t earn that title; they gave it to him so that their pretty poster boy isn’t just some kid in uniform, driving around in a humvee.”

“Easy, babe,” Adya says with a gentle squeeze around her waist. “You don’t get to be more mad about this than I am. Trust me, I’m not gonna let anyone sideline me. Just because I’m not a field agent anymore doesn’t mean I don’t have a voice in the ACA.”

The front door flies open, crashing into the wall behind it. Reese instinctively dives in front of Adya and raises her fists. They don’t stay up for long when the blonde woman in front of her, motorcycle helmet tucked beneath her arm, meets her eyeline.

“You could’ve fucking knocked, Caelius!”

“Too early for a little breaking and entering? To each their own, I guess.” Caelius shrugs and tosses her keys and her helmet onto the counter. She shoves Reese out of the way and throws a gentle fist into Adya’s chest. “You better not just let this happen, Prisham. This kid is gonna give you and me a bad name, right when things were starting to mellow out for people with bionics. I almost don’t feel like a walking freak when I tell people what I am, but now, I’m just gonna feel like a pretentious asshole.”

“You are a pretentious asshole! You and I could not be more different. I’m not about to have this conversation with the mercenary who tried to kill me all those years ago.”

“I think you are. It’d be rude to throw out a guest, wouldn’t it?”

She turns to Reese, who now stands on top of the stairs. “You invited Caelius over?” Adya asks, a look of bewilderment passing over her face.

“You’re both mind transfers and you both hate this guy. If I know anything about either of you, it’s that you don’t like other people defining who you are. The enemy of your enemy is your friend.” She disappears into the bathroom, leaving Adya and Caelius to their own devices in the kitchen like two bulls in a pen. Adya swats her hand away and retires to the couch, still grimacing at a term like friend being in the same context as Caelius.

“Sable will want to meet you,” Caelius mentions. She reaches for the remote to mute the TV as the reporter continues babbling on about mind transfers. “Now that the news has branded him as your replacement, he’s gonna want to talk about it with you. What it means to be ‘the face of bionics’, or whatever it is he’s trying to do.”

She scoffs. “What, so I can pass him the baton? I’m not even on my victory lap yet. I don’t want anything to do with him.”

“The ACA might not give you a choice.”

Adya rests her chin in her hand and does the mental gymnastics. “This how you saw me five years ago, isn’t it?” she asks. “Just some pretty face, putting the ACA on a pedestal and doing interviews for magazines. Now, I understand.”

Caelius nods. “I was also a wanted fugitive. And a criminal. And absolutely fucking pissed every minute of the day. That definitely amplified it. But I’m not paying you a visit to reflect on my past.”

“Wow. I gave you the opportunity to talk about how much you hated me, and you didn’t take it. You must really hate this guy.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Agent.” She produces a sly, charming smile that’s gone as fast as it appears. “Meet with this guy and propose that you two team up for a few weeks. Keep him in the US for as long as possible while I get some dirt on him and figure out what he’s up to.”

Adya folds into herself, head hanging between her knees. “Caelius, you are not going to sabotage this man’s career!” she yells.

“I don’t plan on it!” she responds. “I sure would like to, though. Sable is pouring gasoline on a fire that was already out of control. The ACA’s new poster boy is an army vet with the best bionics money can buy and a title he doesn’t deserve. But he has no conviction. No humility. He can smile and wave and throw a punch, but that’s it. I would not put it past him to be taking orders from someone with an agenda that both you and I won’t like.”

She almost sounds… intimidated by him. Just as much as his personality is laughable to her, there’s a sense of ambition to her words. A chill slips down Adya’s spine. Charlotte Caelius, the once ambivalent bounty hunter who wanted to reduce Adya to scrap metal for a quick profit, now worrying about someone’s lack of humility. She doesn’t doubt it for a second after her first impression of Casper Sable, but her eyes narrow. “How do you know that?”

“He was part of a sample group of a hundred volunteers being evaluated for the mind transfer program,” she explains. “Ten passed the test, but only two ended up going through with the procedure.”

“Him and who else?”

Caelius clasps her hands together, elbows leaning against the armchair in front of her.

“Me.”

[ashsblurbs]

Delicate is my heart

*Inspired by the song Delicate by Taylor swift*

“Tony seen with another bimbo.” “Tony Stark, found another one to make a new trophy.” “Tony couldn’t commit meant Pepper had to say goodbye.”

Tony took in a deep breath clicking off his phone placing it on the other side of the table. He didn’t feel like looking through all the lies everyone says about him. He wasn’t the playboy he used to be in his teens and twenties. The last person he was ever with was Pepper and they both agreed they were better as friends then lovers. The media would never see that or understand that. Even if he yelled the truth off of the rooftop no one would believe him. He huffed placing his hands in his head. Tony was just so tired of the lies.

“Hey, is this seat taken.” Tony lifted his head to find Steve Rogers standing at the table looking down on him. “No. And you live here every seat is your seat too.” Steve shrugged smiling and placed his newspaper on the table as well as his coffee.  Steve had decided to come and live at the tower after exploring what was left of Brooklyn a couple of years ago. Steve found that his home was no longer his home. Where his childhood home once stood now was a Whole Foods. Steve called Tony one day asking if the offer of staying at the tower was still on the table. He realized he had no other home. Then two weeks later Steve was there with his motorcycle and a small bag with a few items. From then on it was just Steve and Tony. Yeah, once and a while the others would come back and stay for a night or a few weeks, but then they were off on their next mission. Leaving Steve and Tony together once again.

“You got any plans today besides being depressed. Remember the party is tonight.” Steve said behind his paper.

Tony looked up at him and just rolled his eyes. “Actually, I had a hot date. You know a beautiful dame named self-loathing. Maybe go and get some coffee and then wallow in the corner.” Steve sat down the paper eyeing Tony. “Tony, why? What were you looking at before I got here? Please don’t tell me those trash tabloids. What were they saying now?” Tony stood up, pocketing his phone. “Nothing, Steve, just joking. I’m going to be in the lab if you need me.” “Don’t forget everything needs to be ready before eight,” Steve shouted back. Tony dismissed him with a wave of a hand. “Yeah, yeah. Captain will do.”

Steve stared as Tony was walking away. Steve knew what the media was saying and most of the time he knew that Tony wouldn’t let that kind of stuff get him down, but Steve knew that Tony loved Pepper once upon of time. It must have been killing him with what they were saying about her. It must have hurt more with the lies they were spreading about him. Steve wished they knew the Tony he knew. The one that would stay up with him all night when he couldn’t sleep watching every terrible movie, he had missed over the past seventy years. The man that was so smart he could fix anything and get out of anything. The man that gave him a home when he didn’t know his anymore.

Steve picked up his keys. He thought he could do something nice for Tony and pick up something nice for him they could share after the party tonight. Maybe he could grab a nice wine and a movie. Yeah, that would be good.

Tony’s phone buzzed having no clue who it could be. Most likely one of his friends being confused by what was going on tonight. He looked down to see that it was Steve. Tony shook his head. That man can really be so weird. Why didn’t he just come down and talk to him, he thought to himself.

Tony chuckled to himself. Steve was really an old man. He was so happy that he had him as a friend. He couldn’t imagine what his life would have been like if Steve wasn’t here. Well, he knew exactly how it would have been. It would have been very lonely. It would have just been him spending way too much time in his lab tinkering because he couldn’t sleep because of the nightmares. He would be living off of coffee and fumes. Yeah, his teammates would be around but his relationship with all of them didn’t compare to what he and Steve have. He needed to remind himself to tell Steve more often how much he appreciated home. Tony looked at the time to see 7:00. Shit! He jumped up running upstairs. Guest would be arriving in an hour and nothing was ready. “Jarvis, can you please get the house ready. We only have an hour.” “Will do sir.”

Tony, I left to grab somethings if you by any chance will be needing me. I will be back in time for the party. Just text me if you need anything.

-Steve Rogers

“Which one would be better? Clueless or Clue.” Steve mumbled to himself in the aisle. He needed help and he knew the exact person to call that could easily help him. “Hey, Rhodes, I need your help.” Rhodey thought it was weird that Tony was calling him out of nowhere, but he was willing to help the man his best friend loved even if neither of them knew it.

“Yeah, Steve what do you need?”

“Um, what movie would Tony like to watch more? Clueless or Clue.”

Rhodey just laughed to himself. There were so many other things both of them could be doing like getting ready for the party they had to go to tonight. “He likes Clueless. When we were in college together all he talked about was Paul Rudd.” Steve thanked Rhodey and hung up the phone. He looked down at the phone to see that it was 7:45. He was going to be really late to the party. It was going to be okay, hopefully, this will make up for his tardiness.

Tony sat in the corner swirling his wine glass. He looked out among the crowd of people seeing all of his friends laughing and having the time of their lives. He decided it was better to hang back since the one person he did want to talk to hadn’t arrived yet. Where had Steve disappeared too, he thought.

“Tony, what are you doing back here alone? You should be mingling among the guest and not sitting in the dark.” Tony looked up to see Rhodey looking down at him.

“I just wanted to be alone.” He kept looking around but still no sign of him. “Who you looking for? Your boyfriend Steve.” Tony rolled his eyes no liking Rhodey’s jokes.

“Haha, real funny. We’re just friends and roommates. I don’t feel like getting in a new relationship anyway.” Rhodey wasn’t convinced that nothing was going on between. “Yeah, keep lying to yourself but I know the truth buddy.”  

Tony was about to say something when he spotted him. Steve wore dark jeans and a pair of white Nikes with a classic white shirt that was showing all of his muscle’s underneath. Tony just kept staring ahead until Steve spotted him too. He smiled and waved at him with excitement. He noticed that he was coming closer with something in his hands. Tony’s heart was beating faster and faster. It was weird; he saw Steve every day. Saw him at his most mundane self. The feeling that Tony was having right now never happened before.

“Hey, sorry I’m late and that I wasn’t here to help you set up.” Steve sat down the bottle of wine that took him forever to pick out because he had no knowledge of what wine was good wine. He also picked a movie that seemed like something Tony would like.

“I’m just glad that you are here now.” Tony jumped up wrapping his arms around him knocking the breath out of Steve. “Woah, I’ve only been gone for a few hours.”

“I know. I’m just really glad you are here.” Tony looked up into his bright blue eyes. How had he never noticed before the sight green that was in them and the curve of his nose that somehow matched the curve of his lips? All he wanted to do was to leave this party and just spend time with Steve, alone. “Steve, I have a crazy idea. Why don’t you pour me and yourself a drink? Then we get out of here.”

“You know what Tony. That’s not a bad idea.” Steve grabbed the bottle of wine and then grabbed Tony’s hand leading him up to the balcony. It was much quieter out here without all of the distractions of everyone wanting to make small talk. Instead, it was just the two of them and the stars shining down on them. “Would you like a glass of um.” Steve picked up the bottle to read it. “St. Antonio’s pin oats no air.” Tony chuckled. “Do you mean Pinot Noir? I’m more of a white wine guy myself but if it will get me drunk then pour it.”

Steve poured Tony a good size glass handing him it over. The slight touch of his fingers brushed along Tony’s wrist sending sparks throughout his body. Tony looked up into his eyes wondering what it would be like to wake up every morning with those eyes staring into him. Maybe tonight he would tell him his feelings and just maybe Steve would feel the same way. Then he thought would he really want to get him wrapped up in the PR nightmare that was his life. That wouldn’t be fair to Steve. Maybe Steve didn’t like him like that at all and everything he feared wouldn’t even matter.

Steve stood at the rail taking in the skyline. The warm summer air ripping through his shirt sending comfort through him. This was nice he thought. He wanted to be selfish and stay right here all night with Tony next to him but that wasn’t fair to Tony. “Hey, do you want to go back inside? I’m feeling like I’m keeping you all to myself.” Tony stood next to Steve a little tipsy but not out of control of his actions.

“Steve, this is where I want to be all night. Are you sure you don’t want to go back?” Steve shuffled over closer placing his hand next to Tony’s. Steve turned his head looking at Tony for the first time. The world fell quiet and the moon shone around him a little bright halo. “Yeah, I’m sure. You are the only person I want to spend the night with.” Steve turned back out to the skyline. What he said was true? He just didn’t realize that the feelings he had for his best friend were there.

Tony picked up the movie that was sitting next to the wine. “So, you show up here looking hot as hell. Then you bring a bottle of wine and my favorite movie with you to a party. Then you sneak me away to one of the most romantic spots in the tower. If I didn’t know better, Mr. Rogers, this seems like a date.” Tony teased. Steve leaned back in his chair. He crossed his arms over his chest looking Tony up and down. This made Tony put the movie down. “Come here.” Tony froze not knowing what to do. “Come here,” Steve said again. His voice was deep and raspy. There was hunger in his eyes. Maybe it was too much wine and mead that had changed Steve’s attitude or maybe it was the way Tony looked tonight.

Tony walked closer until he and Steve were at arm’s length. Steve stretched out his arms pulling Tony into his lap.

“Would it be wrong of me that hoped this could be a date?” Tony’s breath caught in his throat. The feeling of being rapped up and feeling safe for the first time in his life was overwhelming for him. “I really like you. I just don’t want to drag you into my world of chaos. You know my track record; it isn’t that great. People will talk and say the worst things about you and me. The thought of you getting hurt because you were in a relationship with me, I just couldn’t handle it.”

There was a silence between. Steve’s eyes wandered all over his face until they stopped at his lips. Steve placed his hand on the small of Tony’s back pulling him farther onto his lap. He lifted Tony’s chin gently. Then the world went quiet and it was just the two of them in each other’s arms. Steve’s lips were soft and loving. Tony knew they needed to take this slow even though his body was telling him to take it farther. Tony pulled away lightly. “Let’s get another drink.” Steve shook his head in agreement.

Several hours had passed with many stories swapped between. With loud laugher making them laugh harder. The bottle Steve had brought had been long gone as well as three others. At this point in the night, all of the guests were gone, and the house was wrecked, but Tony didn’t care. He was somehow wrapped up into Steve’s arms watching the city slowly fall asleep. This was all he ever wanted and dreamed of. Then Steve broke the beautiful silence between. “You know what you said earlier about your reputation and you didn’t want me in that mess. Tony, I don’t care and would love to be in your mess. I just hope you realize that I have my own mess going on in my life. Just google my name and you will find thousands of lies, gossip, and stories about me that are completely fake. So, I don’t care as long as you can be mine.”

Something in Tony broke. Tony jumped out of Steve’s arms not wanting to hear one more wonderful thing come out of his mouth. It would just hurt Tony too much to know that Steve would just be another name on his “list” of exes. He just feared that he would hurt Steve and he was the last person Tony ever wanted to hurt. Tony ran off to his room to just think.

Steve once again was staring at Tony as he ran away. What was Steve supposed to do to show Tony that he wasn’t the man that everyone was saying he was? Why couldn’t Tony see he deserved love and that Steve loved him? Steve stood up and walked into the living room to see the mess that was left. Instead of going off to bed because he knew sleep wasn’t going to come anyway, he decided he would clean up. The place was a wreck with food scraps scattered everywhere and beer cans piling mountain high in every corner. Their friends really were a messy bunch of people.

Tony stared at the ceiling as the time ticked away. What did he do? Did he just mess up what could be the best thing to happen in his life? Tony rolled over to find a photo of him and Steve together. Steve was cover in dirt will some blood dripping down his face, but he was still all smiles. Tony on the other hand was tired and had his head sitting on Steve’s shoulder but he still had a slight smirk. That was one of his favorite days. Maybe every day could be like that day. Tony jumped out of bed pulling on his robe to go find Steve. This time he was going to do what made him happy. He found Steve asleep with a trash bag hanging from his hand. Of course, Steve fell asleep cleaning up because that was just who he was. Tony walked over placing a light kiss to Steve’s forehead and then curled up into Steve’s side.

“I want to do this.” Steve pulled him in tighter placing a light kiss on the inside of his neck. “I want this too.”

[softbiker]

Born to Run - Chapter 6

Warnings: some language, breaking and entering, panic attacks, also sloppy editing and bad writing

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: Oof this chapter. I’m not sure how I feel. But anyway! Here we go. As always, let me know what you think! Thanks for supporting this series!

“You are coming up for the shower next month, aren’t you? I don’t think Sarah sent you an invitation but she told me to ask you.”

Y/N tilted the receiver of her phone away from her mouth and sighed.

“I’ll try to make it, Mom. It’s just a really long drive for a weekend.”

“Well, sure. I understand, honey.” Her mother wouldn’t say she was disappointed, but Y/N could practically feel it through the phone. “Just...let me know okay?”

“Sure, I will.”

“Everything at the clinic still going okay? Have you met any friends?”

She thought about that for a second - slow days at the clinic, the new group of not-technically-criminals that had somehow adopted her.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine.”

**********

Having never been a medic for a biker gang, she was a little unsure what to expect. How often would they need her? What would the hours be like? Were they trying to induct her into the gang? For several days after she accepted the Avengers offer, Y/N bit her nails and paced and worried over it, agonizing over her decision. She waited for them to show up on a daily basis with life-threatening injuries and half-baked explanations. She took to hovering near the reception desk at the clinic, watching for them to come through the door.

But, to her surprise, everything stayed quiet.

Bucky was helped from her couch and back to his own by Steve and Sam, and she checked on him for a week or so, monitoring how his wound healed. But beyond that, the Avengers made themselves scarce. They had made such a fuss about needing her, recruiting her, that she anticipated they would practically want her moving into the clubhouse. The fact that they were mostly leaving her alone felt...suspicious. She waited for the calm to break, for a storm to hit.

By the time Natasha Romanoff walked into her clinic, Y/N was starting to wonder if this mysterious club needed her at all.

You couldn’t help but notice when a woman like Natasha entered a room - all full lips and hourglass figure and studded leather jacket. She breathed confidence into that tiny waiting room with every step of her motorcycle boots, pushing her sunglasses up to hold back that sweep of fiery hair. Much to her frustration, Y/N noted she felt slightly intimidated as the redhead strutted her way up to the reception desk.

Natasha’s eyes slid past Charlotte, whose mouth was hanging open, and directly to Y/N, standing slightly further back as she put away a set of files. Her smile was picture perfect.

“Good afternoon, doctor.” She tilted her head to the side and raised a brow. “Any plans for the night?”

And that was the story of how Y/N found herself on the back of a motorcycle for the first time.

Heart in her throat, hands around Natasha’s waist, they sped down the highway taking turns at a speed that made her close her eyes. They had stopped off at her house first, letting her take her car home and change. Natasha tossed a spare helmet her way and they were off.

“The clubhouse” they called it, and she had no idea what to expect, what it would look like. Her brain could conjure up plenty of ideas, and none of them were particularly pleasant. In her head, she saw a ramshackle dive bar overflowing with men who could only be described as sketchy, complete with too much booze and loud rock music.

But you signed up for this, she reminded herself. Couldn’t turn down the money.

“Almost there!” Natasha’s muffled voice shouted over the wind. The road ahead of them took a long, banking curve around a newly-cut cornfield, and then she saw it.

The motorcycles parked around the building were a dead giveaway. For the most part, it wasn’t as seedy-looking as she expected - the clubhouse looked like a dated community center with its painted brick and metal roof. A sign by the door proclaimed it as the “Avengers M.C.”, and a few neon beer signs hung nearby. Scattered near the door were a handful of smokers, all in leather jackets, who looked up as Natasha pulled into the parking lot. She parked the bike close to the entrance and leaned up, prompting Y/N to pull her arms away.

“Don’t be nervous in there, okay?” Natasha said, smoothing her hair after she removed her helmet. “They’re a pretty chill bunch, and they know not to bother you.”

“They do?” Y/N handed her helmet to Natasha and swung her leg off the bike.

“Sure. Steve and Bucky gave ‘em this whole speech - basically, if they mess with you they’ll get their asses kicked.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. Why should they care? It put her back up a little bit, that these strange men felt they needed to protect her for some reason. She’d been taking care of herself long enough, she’d be just fine.

When Y/N walked into the club behind Natasha, though, she changed her mind. Eyes were on her from every corner of the place, turning from pool games and poker and TV to watch her as they crossed the room to find a bar at the back. The back of her neck prickled at the feeling of every gaze on her, and she subconsciously took a step closer to Natasha.

They leaned up against the bar, club members moving aside to make a space for them, and Natasha gave a winning smile and wave to the man wiping down glasses on the other side.

“Hey, Nat - whiskey?” he asked, already grabbing a bottle from the shelf.

“Make it two, Clint.” Nat turned slightly to Y/N. “You do like whiskey, right?”

“Sure.”

The bartender, Clint, looked more like a dad than a biker in her opinion, but Y/N said nothing as he poured their drinks and slid them across the bar, giving her a kind smile.

“So, you’re the new medic, right?”

“That’s me.”

“Heard you saved Barnes’ ass a couple weeks ago.”

“She sure did.”

She jumped at the sound of a voice over her shoulder, having not noticed a presence that close. Bucky smiled when she turned and met his eyes, tucking a strand of his hair back where it had fallen from its low bun. He looked more handsome than the last time she’d seen him - not that she was looking - but not having a life-threatening stab wound will do that to a guy. He had a hoodie on under his same old leather jacket, making him somehow softer around the edges. As he shuffled onto a stool, he made a quick gesture to Clint, who grabbed another glass and the whiskey.

“Hi,” he said softly, eyes flicking between hers. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, well. You’ve managed to go nearly two weeks without getting stabbed.”

He grinned as Clint slid him his own whiskey across the bar.

“I have to get stabbed for you to visit your neighbor?”

“Afraid so.”

“Pretty high price, doll.”

She blinked at the pet name, wondering if she had heard him correctly. Who even says stuff like that anymore?

“Did you - did you just call me ‘doll’?”

An embarrassed smile curled Bucky’s mouth as he shifted in his seat.

“Sorry, it sort of slipped out,” he laughed. “Is that okay?”

She tried not to look too terribly pleased when she said “yes”.

Behind them, Nat and Clint shared a smile across the bar.

**********

Standing outside the little house, he saw that a light had been left on in the living room. Her car was parked in the driveway, but he knew that no one was home. His lieutenant had seen her leaving on the back of Romanoff’s bike. Probably on her way to that clubhouse.

It was just like he thought. Took all of 5 minutes for her to get involved with Rogers and his crew. Shame, he thought, popping his bubblegum. She seemed like a smart girl. Pretty, too.

But, oh well. She made her choice.

**********

“What do you mean you’ve never seen Star Wars? How can a person not see Star Wars? It’s a classic!!”

She could barely respond to him, nearly doubled over in laughter.

“I don’t know, okay! My mom hates sci-fi so that stuff was practically banned from my house.”

“Wow. Wow.” Bucky shook his head. “We’ve gotta fix this. I can’t let you go through life not knowing Star Wars, I feel like this is my responsibility now.”

They fell into conversation so easily, she wondered why he had barely spoken to her before. In minutes he had her in stitches and smiles, always asking her about herself and listening with that intent look in his eyes. Bucky had made her laugh more in the last couple of hours than she had in...months, maybe longer. It was just so easy to talk to him. Like they’d known each other for years.

“Fine then, Barnes - my sci-fi education is in your hands.”

The clubhouse had slowly emptied over the course of the evening, until only a handful of them were left. Bucky and Y/N had moved from the bar to a couple of couches where Steve and Sam dropped down next to them. Clint was in an armchair with Nat perched in his lap, and a girl named Wanda sat in the floor, leaning against Steve’s legs. They had been discussing movies, a hobby of Clint’s, when Y/N had revealed her lack of Star Wars knowledge. As it turned out, Bucky was quite the nerd, wrapped up in tattoos and leather. The others watched them banter with secret smiles, eyes bouncing between the two.

Clint yawned loudly, head falling back in the chair.

“What time is it?” he whined. “I had to get up early this morning.”

“About 11:30,” Sam said, checking his phone. Y/N’s eyebrows went up.

She had spent the entire night with these people, some of whom she had never met before. And all of them seemed so...normal? Granted, a different standard of normal, but still. They passed around beers and shared inside jokes, and made her feel welcome. Made her feel...at home. Glancing between the members of the little circle, she could see how close they were, like a family. And they wanted her here, wanted to bring her in.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Alright, I think I need to be heading home,” she sighed, standing from the couch and stretching.

“Aw, you’re leaving us?” Wanda pouted from her place on the floor.

“Yeah, you could just stay over at the clubhouse,” Nat suggested.

“Well,” Y/N shifted, uncomfortable. “I...just really like sleeping in my own bed, you know? And I didn’t bring any extra clothes or anything, so.”

There were a few more protests from the group, but she shot them all down as gently as she could - she couldn’t help it. She just wasn’t ready for a biker sleepover. The only person who didn’t try to convince her was Bucky, who hopped up from the couch and started pulling his jacket on.

“You leaving too, Buck?” Steve raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, yeah, I -” his cheeks flushed a little. “I thought I’d drive you home.”

Oh.

“Nat did bring you on her bike right? So you don’t have your car?” He continued.

Y/N had forgotten that, but yes. She did need a ride. And he was the most convenient, considering he lived across the street. She watched as he adjusted the sleeves of his hoodie underneath the jacket, pulled the hood out from under the collar. The way he was looking at her, that hopeful little light in his eyes…

“Sure, I guess I do need a ride,” she shrugged, trying to ignore the way his face lit up.

“Then let’s roll, doc.”

Being on the back of Bucky’s bike felt...different from Nat’s. His was more of a classic body style, a cruiser, with much more room for a second passenger. But more than that, the way she fit perfectly with her legs and arms wrapped around him, it felt - well. It was just different. She wouldn’t let herself choose a word other than that.

The drive back home was quiet along those stretches of country highway, and she found herself relaxing further, laying her head against Bucky’s back. He reached up and squeezed one of her hands twice, before putting his own back on the handlebar. It should have felt strange - too much, but it didn’t.

When he pulled up to her driveway, she almost didn’t want to get off the bike. The engine and the night air and Bucky had lulled her into a sort of trance. She felt like she was sleepwalking as she slowly shifted back and loosed her hold on him. He held out a hand and helped her get off, his eyes tracking her face.

“Did you -” he stopped to clear his throat. “Did you have a good time tonight? Hanging out with us, I mean?”

“I did, actually. They’re not what I expected,” she spoke softly, not wanting to move. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Is that so?” His smile was lazy, sweet. He ducked his head a little, an effort to hide the slight flush in his cheeks.

“Mhm.” She was lingering, waiting in her own driveway for something she wouldn’t name.

“Well, good night Bucky.” With enormous self-control, she backed away, fishing for her house keys.

“‘Night, doll.” He never looked away from her as she crept away, up the porch, and to her door.

The second she was inside, she knew something was wrong.

She couldn’t put her finger on it, not there in the doorway, but her gut was surging with anxiety. Something - that smell, what was that smell? Not her own, not her house - something here didn’t belong. She shuffled forward in the dark, creeping along the wall until her hand found the lightswitch and-

“Oh my god.”

Her house, her lovely little house was destroyed. Furniture overturned, photos and paintings on the floor, vases broken. There were marks on the walls as though someone had left streaks of paint. Broken glass littered the carpet, turning the room into a minefield. And, oh god, oh god - black spray paint across the far wall-

LEAVE WHILE YOU CAN BITCH

A skull and crossbones underneath.

She wasn’t proud of the way she started to cry.

Bucky could tell something was wrong when Y/N left the door hanging open - a young woman going into her home at midnight doesn’t leave doors open, not one as smart as her. He waited a minute, then two, in her driveway - he told himself it was just a precaution, just in case…

Then he tiptoed up the porch, calling her name; he pushed on her open door, one hand reached for where his gun was tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

She was in the floor, the epicenter, the eye of this hurricane of her furniture and her home and her life. Curled in on herself, Y/N sat with her arms around her knees, breath coming in stutters and tears running down her face. Bucky dropped to his knees in front of her, hand leaving his gun and reaching for her instead.

“Hey, hey you’re okay,” he soothed, hands rubbing up and down her arms. “You’re alright.”

“Oh my god, oh my god,” she kept whispering to herself, lips trembling. It was so hot and her chest was so tight, and she couldn’t - couldn’t breathe.

Bucky scrambled around on the floor, crawling behind her and wrapping her tight in his arms, locking his legs around her own. He crossed her arms over her chest and pressed her in, in, in - folded her up so he could surround her. With her head tucked under his chin, he rocked her back and forth on the floor.

“Everything’s okay, I’ve got you,” he repeated again and again. He closed his eyes. “I’ve got you, you’re safe.”

You’re safe you’re safe you’re safe.

[spy-der-woman]

Spy-Der Woman: To Know Her

Summary: A young woman, Jessica, is captured by a mysterious group of government officials and is forced to recount her involvement in one of the most devastating events in Japan's modern history.

Word Count: 1858

Pairings: Jessica Drew/Gwen Stacy 

A/N: Hello! Hi! Thank you for taking the time to read my personal spin on the Spider-Woman origin story. Ideally, many more chapters to come. Enjoy!

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23218846/chapters/55587907

Next Chapter: https://spy-der-woman.tumblr.com/post/618206045884547072/spy-der-woman-to-know-her

Chapter One: A Black Ink Face 

Tokyo, Japan

The colors were still there: the reds, the blues, pinks, and purples. They just weren’t as bright anymore. The ashes of the most devastating event in Japan’s modern history still carried in the wind dulling any glow that the city once had. If anything, the black of Tokyo: skyline, alleyways, suits of men and women were just as deep and dark as ever.

And in that black, a group of young boys played kickball in their light-up Sketchers. Haruto Yamamoto, age seven, teased little Akihiro Nakamura, age six, as he stepped up to the makeshift cardboard plate. Akihiro was the runt of the group, and it didn’t help that his sneakers were too old to light up blue anymore like the rest of the boys. Haruto had no rhyme or reason to be this mean other than he was a boy, and he could. Akihiro, along with the rest of the gang, just begged him to throw the ball already. 

But, before Haruto could finally pitch the ball, a warning siren rang throughout the city. The boys looked up at the screens on the sides of the buildings surrounding them as they changed from advertisements to a black screen followed by the logo of Tokyo’s five o’clock news. Yellow text appeared warning that the footage that is about to play may upset children and elderly viewers. 

The boys continued to look.

Helicopter shots along with cell phone camera footage were spliced together to show all different angles of devastation that occurred at the Port of Tokyo. The broadcast didn’t linger long on these images before cutting to a live feed of reporter, Mitsuko Miyazaki, who stood a few yards away from the seaport. All of it had been leveled out. 

“Good evening, this Mitsuko Miyazaki reporting live for Action News 10. 

Prime Minister Kenuichio Harada has asked me to speak to you this evening in regards to what is potentially now being deemed a terrorist attack.

It has been one week since the catastrophic explosion that occurred at Tokyo Harbour. As you can see behind me, search and rescue teams are still looking for survivors. However, hope is dwindling as the death toll continues to rise. By the end of the week, numbers are expected to double, potentially triple. 

With that being said, government authorities have been working day in and day out interviewing survivors of this attack. With the diligent work of the government, two crucial pieces of information have come to light. I urge you to pay attention carefully. 

One, the cause of the explosion came deep within the underground and not from an outside source, as initially reported. Also, while initially thought to be a chemical explosion, experts are now leaning towards this being an electrical explosion instead. 

Two, multiple eye witness reports mention a young woman helping survivors out of the wreckage, but then leaving the scene as rescue teams and authorities started to arrive. This woman has been described as being American or European, tall, black hair, with burn wounds covering her hands, arms, and chest. Gathering as much information as possible, the police have drawn up a potential sketch of what this person may look like.”

A black ink face covered the city. 

“If you have any information about the explosion or about the woman. Please give a call to the number appearing on the screen now. Do not hesitate to call. Any and all information, big or small, could prove helpful in aiding this investigation. 

If you know something, say something.

Thank you for your time, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you have a peaceful rest of your evening.”

Little Akihiro, frightened by the images he saw, had broken away his gaze midway through the broadcast. In contrast, the rest of the boys, with eyes glazed over, had continued to watch. 

Desperately wanting to be in the comfort of his mother’s arms, Akihiro snuck off from the boys. He was only able to make it a few feet away before an unmarked car had pulled into the black. The headlights on the vehicle were so bright that Akihiro tripped over his own feet, falling into a puddle. This caught the attention of the other boys whose voices fell short of laughter when they saw a group of men exit the vehicle with guns visibly strapped to their sides. 

All of the boys, now just as little as Akihiro, ran off in the other direction. Hamurato ran slightly behind and kept his head turned to look at the men. He watched as the last one out of the vehicle pulled a woman out along with him. The man kept his gun close to her head. Akihiro was frozen. 

She was barely dressed, only wearing dirty white underwear and an oversized red and black motorcycle jacket. A large black box that hummed with a blue glow encased her hands, leaving her hunched over. The woman tried to walk on her own, but her knees started to buckle underneath her. The group of men shouted remarks that Aikhiro had only ever heard his father use underneath his breath. The woman took a few steps into the street light, exposing deep purple scars on her legs running from her ankles up to her hips. The tallest man shouted at her to stand up straight. He took a decent amount of her hair into his and yanked her head up, exposing her face underneath the street light. 

It was her. The woman Akihiro had only seen moments ago on every screen in Tokyo. Her eyes locked with his, and he felt his heart drop into his stomach. She looked like a ghost. One of those urban legends the boys would talk about after school to scare him like the one about the woman who had a smile cut from ear to ear. 

The men dragged her into a run-down building, while Akihiro, soaked and silent, got up and began to walk his way out of the black.

***

The building used to be a butcher shop. The walls, floors, even the air was stained with rancid blood. The men pulled her far into the back of what used to be a cooler. Meat hooks swinging back and forth, nipping at her exposed skin. The tall man, leading the pack, opened up a door in the back and instructed everyone to move quickly while he made sure that no one had followed them in. Once the coast was clear and the door closed behind them, all in unison they began to move forward, left foot first. The only source of light coming from flickering lights that were placed where the ceiling meets the wall. None of them spoke.

As they made their way down the hall, the hair left on the woman’s arms stood up straight. She felt nauseated and unable to keep her focus. While only four men surrounded her, she could see eight. Along with the gun firmly placed against her spine, she could feel the blood rushing through her body. Every single cell of her being trying to repair itself into some semblance of what it used to be. Exhausting the last bits of energy she had left. The smell of sulfur that came from the water dripping from the ceiling was strong enough that she could taste it on the tip of her tongue. But, worst of all, was the sound of the rats. The rats with their little claws scratched at the concrete surrounding them.  

The group came to a halt when they had reached a new door. The tall man made his way to the front and knocked on the door with a particular rhythm. The door creaked open, there were whispers, followed by laughter. A deep feminine laughter. 

“Come in. We have been waiting patiently.” 

The new room they entered was filled with old TVs, all of them turned to various news stations and presidential addresses/condolences regarding the “terrorist attack” in Tokyo. The woman kept her eyes trained on the screens taking in as much information as she could understand, even as the men shoved her onto an illuminated platform in the middle of the room. Before she could get the chance to stand tall on her own, a magnetic pull between the platform and the box encasing her hands forced her down onto her knees. 

She didn’t make a sound.

The woman that had opened the door slipped a remote into her pocket and approached the girl. “We only do this out of precaution. Not to harm you.” She took the girl’s chin into her palm and inspected every mark that marred her face. “Beautiful thing you are.” The woman looked up at the group of men, “Bring everyone else here now.”

The group of men dispersed, and for a brief moment, the two women were alone. 

“You have done a lot of damage.”

“I did what I had to do.” The girl finally spoke.

“And the whole world heard you loud and clear.”

“Should I say sorry?”

“Sorry? Nothing to apologize for. It is all apart of the process.”

The men returned with several individuals dressed in suits and ties.  Everyone took their respective seat at a makeshift table. The woman let go of the girl’s face to greet the people in the room with a firm handshake, except for the last man to which she bowed. 

“Thank you for joining us, Prime Minister.”

“And thank you, Madame, for the work you have done.”

“It’s my honor.”

“So this is the girl.” the Prime Minister was the last to take his seat. 

Madame continued to stand with one hand on the table and the other hand in her pocket firmly holding the remote control. 

“Girl? Given our base-level knowledge, she is far more than that. Aren’t you?”

The girl only gave a small glance up at the Madame before looking back down. 

“This girl from what we understand is the cause for this little incident. Aren’t you?”

The girl remained silent.

“Killing thousands, mass mourning, even pulled a few of New York’s finest over here to help the remaining survivors. All done by you and only you.”

“It wasn’t just me.” she spoke through her teeth.

“It wasn’t? Well, let’s write that down because we have no clue. In fact, for the first time in a long time, there is a lot of stuff we don’t know. Which is why this evening, you are going to tell us everything, every detail, on what happened last week and everything before it. We want the who, what, when, where, why, and how. And before you try and refuse, please remember how we found you—near death against a dumpster—which means that-”

“My name is Jessica.”

“Jessica? Last name.”

“No last name.”

“Why is that, Jessica.”

“I was told I was lucky enough to even get a name at all.”

“Interesting. Well, luck implies probability, which means there were others like you, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t we start your story there.”

Jessica gnawed at the inside of her cheek till she could feel blood trickle down her throat. 

[morphoportiswrites]

Riots. - Chapter Three: Slipping Away

Summary: You and your motorcycle are trying your best to outrun death. Is your metal horse fast enough?

Pairing: Bane (TDKR) x Reader

Word Count: 1501

Warnings: Some swearing, mention of antisemitism (no slurs but it’s implied)

Author’s Note: So, that took me a long time. lol  I’m dragging the story on like the chewiest chewing gum, hahaha! Again: English is not my first language, so there might be mistakes in grammar/spelling/tenses etc. (Also that summary sounds pretty dramatic and funny at the same time, lol)

The motor of your vehicle vibrated between your thighs. Every time you edged it on to go faster, you felt the roar, but you couldn't hear it. Your head was elsewhere. Your thoughts were racing faster than your bike and your senses focused on everything that was happening outside the bubble, including you, the bike, the trailer and its content: Bane.

Eyes scanning every oncoming car or pedestrian suspiciously. Ears reaching out for the sound of the sirens of police cars. Once or twice they had been close, and you made sure to decrease your speed to the permitted level. Idiotic though. The streets were almost empty after all, so only the mere sight of you (and the trailer) was high peak suspicious. But the police didn't seem to care. Bigger problems were afoot and you were just a very small drop in the ocean of diarrhea, that was going down in this city. And to be honest, you weren't sure what you would have done. Sell Bane out from the get-go? A “I was just gonna bring him over to you guys!” or a “What? How did this man, I've never seen in my life, get there?” Which was such a bad lie, you'd deserve to get arrested just for telling it. Or would you try to outrace them? (Which wasn't the greatest idea with an injured person in your trailer and the faster you'd go, the wobblier the trailer and the harder the steering would get.) Or, or, or? You weren't sure and you didn't want to think about it. You were just hoping for the best – not encountering the officials at all.

The kind of information, your eyes were not passing on to your brain, was the bumpy road ahead. Only when you felt the metal rattling differently than usual, your attention was drawn to the pavement (or rather the lack of it in forms of cracks and holes).

The old, partially rundown buildings, cheap shops and bad infrastructure and streets made it painfully obvious, you had entered the poor part of Gotham. The city officials had decided on neglecting these parts decades ago, just putting money in what was a necessary fix, and nothing about that had changed since. Maybe celebrating the occasional opening of a new mall, seemingly a try to help improving people's lives around here by creating jobs and opportunities. But these people had learned from other former poor districts of the city. Districts they maybe had lived in and been a part of years ago, until increasing living costs had forced them to move farther and farther away from the centre and make place for wealthier inhabitants, while they still had to drive to their old neighbourhoods every morning to serve these people and work shitty low-pay jobs at companies belonging to the richest of the rich of Gotham.

So the occasional new mall, either accidentally burned down most of time, or turned into an indoor ghost town. And people in this part of the city had learned to rather stick their eyes to the ground, as to not stumble one more time on their already stone-riddled path through life. Lifting and broadening your gaze, meant to eventually trip and fall. And there always was a way to fall deeper than from where you had started and a place worse to end up at.

Your ears shifted back from the sirens in the distance, as you heard muffled moans from behind. “I'm so, so sorry!”, your own voice felt distant yet sounded close as it ricochet in the inside of your helmet, that you somehow had managed to put on (even as scatterbrained as you were. Hey! Safety first, right?), as you had fled the scene.

You knew this was the fastest and most inconspicuous way to get to your destination. But the state these streets were in, made you hesitant to go any further, anxious it would only worsen the dire condition of your back seat passenger. Whoever he was, this was a very miserable way to die, and you wished it on no one. It was almost impossible to keep your mind from spinning around all the possibilities, all the outcomes this could have but first and foremost fear crept up your spine with every passing second. The fear he wouldn't make it. And driving towards the sun setting for the night, made the fickle nature of Bane's life hanging from a very thin thread painfully visible to you.

Your heart gave a leap out of relief, as you took your eyes off of the blinding red giant and they recognised your destination. Finally you stopped the motorcycle in front of a building most familiar to you. The project you lived in. The number of floors, and the number of apartments each of them contained, made it difficult to know each and every of this building's inhabitants. Different ways of living and working, made it nearly impossible to come across all their faces. One face you were able to describe as clear as day, even if someone woke you up in the middle of the night, was Izzy's. Ishmael, or Izzy, as you liked to call him, was your oldest friend. Both from poor and broken families (though in different ways), both ending up at the same orphanage at a young age. It wasn't just because you both had been the new kids at the place, that you two had bonded so quickly, but you had never liked bullies, and Izzy had been a very easy target to pick on. At least once a week, you had ended up with dark bruises, a bloody nose or a cut on your lip, or you found yourself in detention or grounded. You didn't care because you were sure, the slurs thrown at him hurt a lot more than that.

Your gloved hands almost threw the helmet from you, as well as the damn things covering them, when your nervously clumsy hands failed to unbind the rope from the hooks to take off the cover of your trailer. A pair of tired eyes set in a pale face greeted you and you instantly felt your stomach drop.

The trick with the carpet wouldn't work with this gritty pavement, so ya good old muscles had to wake up for this part of the journey. As you helped the injured man, who was easy and at least a head taller than you, out of the trailer, he put some of his weight on you but you could feel he was hesitant about letting you carry too much. Sure, he was a big guy and as you walked towards the entrance of the building, cloaked in secrecy by the growing darkness of the night and the empty streets (and the fact that neighbours simply didn’t give a shit about what others were doing), a slight burning sensation set itself to start in your legs and arms already, but you were stronger than most people (especially men) thought. “I can take it,” you told Bane with a slight but encouraging huff, shuffling closer to him, positioning more of his arm over your shoulders. Just in the last few moments you had observed with growing concern, that carrying most his own weight, had drained a lot of his remaining energy very fast.

Hesitating one more moment, the tall man tried a pretty gentle approach to literally dropping more weight on your shoulders. Surprised by the fact you did not collapse under him, he was even more surprised as you headed for the elevator in a very steady pace.

You didn't know how you did it. To carry most of that pile of meat that was a (barely alive) man to Izzy's door. It felt like taking you hours, just as the time span between the ringing sound of the doorbell and seeing your friends face seemed to go on an eternity. Time really was relative, man.

A smiling face greeted you and dropped instantly as it recognised the face next to you. Somehow you had seen this reaction coming and had put your combat boot clothed foot into the door. “Please Izzy, I need your help!”, you begged him. You knew he didn't mean to react like that. He had his reasons. “Are you insane? Bringing this man to my friggin' door, Y/N?”, even in situations like these, he couldn't bring himself to swear properly. “The whole city is looking for him! He's a darn terrorist!”, Izzy whisper-shouted which was almost comically, if this all hadn't been greatly tinted with seriousness and urgency. “Then I guess your Hippocratic oath means shit. More like hypocritical if you ask me, dude!”, you hissed back.

For a brief second your soft boy Ishmael's lips twitched to form an amused smile, but before he could compliment you on that comeback, you felt Bane's hands grabbing onto you, as his legs gave up under him and he started slipping out of your grip.

______________________________________________

Tagslist: @markusstraya @scuzmunkie

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

The Girl With A Red Shirt (A Red Shirt, part II.)

A/N: This is for @papisully, bcs I just wanted to, alrite? Also, you, as the reader, are drunk as hell in this, just letting you know. Also, the reader is drunk and cocky as shit, so let me live, pls. 

Description: Victor Sullivan, treasure hunter and a businessman in his late thirties. One day, he got back from his gig and met a cute girl in his favorite laundry; just to forget his talisman there. And so, the trouble with the girl starts.

Mood for this one-shot: It just somehow went from Location by Khalid, went through Let’s Get Lost by G-Eazy and Devon Baldwin and somehow ended up at Tumblr Girls by G-Eazy. But you know the drill, listen to what you like to.

Warnings: I might get too carried away by smut. I did an oopsie. 

“Don’t ask me why,” Sully said to the cell phone he had pinned to his shoulder with his head. He was smoking a cigar, calling someone and shaving at the same time. His mind was blown away not even a half an hour ago and he was actually curious about how many things he can multitask at once. “But Imma not gonna come tonite.” 

“But we’re finishing the last pieces of the gig!” A woman with an Australian accent shouted back. She seemed to be mad at him and Sully couldn't say even a word back. They were almost done, after all, and he will be missing during the most important meeting of all. “You know how useless can you be when you get the intel on paper and not personally!”

“I just can't come to see ya tonite, Chloe. I have some different things planned.” Except his planes came to the sight before twenty minutes, maybe even less. He wasn’t sure about that. 

Victor just needed his red shirt back, because he didn't feel complete without it. It was his talisman, after all, wasn't it? And a ridiculously hot girl who chewed bubblegum all the time had it on and she asked him to take it off. 

Was he actually mad to miss this opportunity? Bet your best cowboy hat that he wasn't.   

“You suck my blood so much it isn't healthy, Sullivan. You’ll have to count on Nathan to give you the intel. But I'm genuinely scared of the idea, God knows what would he tell you,” Chloe answered in a seriously irritated tone. 

She and Charlie Cutter were usually the brains of the operation, Sullivan was the money giver and transport reinsurer and Nate was used to be the dumb monkey and muscle. 

“Why couldn't you choose any other day?” She asked when Sully shouted a curse word out loud. He cut his chin on a place where it seriously hurt and he almost killed himself, when he jumped over a stool in his bathroom while he searched for a piece of toilet paper to stuck on the wound. 

“Some plans just come without expectation, love.” He answered when he saved himself from bleeding out. 

“Okay. But you'll need to study OUR plan then, don't forget about that.” She finally gave up and hung the phone. Sully finally got the time for himself to have a quick shower, put some cologne on and to choose clothes to not look like an old archeologic discovery. 

He settled down on a plain white t-shirt, his bomber which he wore while he was driving on a motorcycle and some old pair of jeans. He looked like a man close to his forties, he couldn't lie to himself. But at least he had some personal style.

And Y/N looked like she was into him, so he wasn't worrying as much as he would normally do. Having a woman of her age showing him some affection gave him boost on his pride and gave him some sort of confidence. 

Okay then, he answered her text finally. He was smiling wickedly to the screen of his phone while his tongue was stuck out a bit. Just tell me the place where we'll meet. I'll be there. 

Again, he wasn't waiting too long for a response. She just shared her location with him and he was more than kindly willing to see her. So Victor took his car and went on a short drive to see her. 

He came on the address that she sent to him after not even twenty minutes, looking at a house, there was a seriously loud party on. He had to say that he was disappointed. He looked forward to being alone with her; he really did. 

Not to mention countless scenarios brushing over his head. His imagination was more than kind when it came to those things. Which things, you might ask?

Things like having that girl sitting on his lap in that shirt which was his, slowly taking it off while her smile became larger because she could see the things she caused him, that beautiful pain in his lap. The slow blinking of her eyes while they became darker with lust while she took the jeans off her body, throwing them far, far away. Victor closed his eyes as he inhaled slowly, crawling off his car after that. 

There was a house full of people. Full of young chicks who were smiling at him while they sipped their beer with devils in their eyes. Some pop song was on and there were a few couples dancing, making out in a wild pace; everyone could see that they'll be in the bedsheets together in the next twenty minutes. 

Victor was never actually fond of parties. Yet he didn't seem to be the man, he liked to be with a woman in private, just him and her, not on a loud place, maybe on a walk or on a dinner. Not even at his marina days, which happened twenty years ago, he wasn't actually a party animal. 

The guys seemed to be amused by him; he was at least twenty years older after all. They were all buffed, all young and they seemed to be the funny ones, the cleverest in the whole world and the perfect lovers for someone like Y/N. And he was just there, an old man trying to look cool. 

Maybe he was reading to her in a bad way after all? Maybe he heard what he wanted to hear? Maybe she wasn’t into that idea? 

He almost turned around and walked off the house, letting her to keep his favorite shirt. But then he saw her. 

Well, at first he saw that shit which belonged to him. The shirt showed more and more as she jumped during the dance. Y/N was dancing on the table with another girl, in short, denim shorts and his shirt on, her ponytail was swinging from side to side and her eyes were partially closed as she sang the lyrics. 

He leaned onto a wall, smiling lightly as he watched her. She was smiling, dancing on the table and the youth was dripping from the tips of her fingers. Sometimes, she grabbed that second girl, pushed her body onto hers and put her hands onto the girl’s ass, sliding them into her back pockets.

“You're her dad or what?” A girl leaned next to him and offered him a cup of beer, watching Y/N on the table, putting the show-off. 

“Do I look like her dad?” Sullivan asked with amusement, taking the offered cup and smiled at the girl. She was a redhead with huge glasses on, yet she didn't look like a nerd. It made her round face cute and it just got along with her personal style. 

“If you are, she has an incredibly handsome dad, I must say,” redhead took a sip from her cup and then she trailed her look back to Y/N. “She’s always like that.”

“Seems to be funny enough to me,” Victor answered as he took another sip. He was becoming more and more thirsty as Y/N took the other girl’s to face into her hand, motioning that she might kiss her, yet she didn't. 

“If you like her, you better stop and you should find someone different. She’s almost unreachable for most of the guys out here. And, no offense, old pal, but you're definitely far after zenith for a girl like Y/N.” The girl patted his shoulder as she left him standing there. 

The song finally stopped and Y/N threw her hands into the thin air as the people around them started to clap. Then she high-fived the girl and accepted one boy's hand as he helped her to get off the table. Then she noticed him standing next to the door. Y/N felt as her smile grew a bit larger. She was drunk at that point; she always was when she was on a party of this type. 

Normally, she wouldn't be able to even foreshadow having something with a girl, but when she was drinking, she didn't care. When she was this level drunk, she was able to kiss literally anyone.

Or at least before. Now, she has one particular person on her mind. She wasn't truly believing that Victor will come there to see her. She thought he might not have the balls to strip the shirt off her. But she smiled when he truly came. 

“Hey there, washing lady,” Victor offered her his cup of beer because she seemed to be thirsty as hell. She didn't hesitate at all, drinking almost all of that beer. Y/N seemed to be really gentle, small and cute next to him. He was a giant next to her and that caught the attention of a few girls, including the redhead, and a lot of boys. Nobody actually believed that she would be into that guy, but these things happen.

“I'm glad ya here,” she threw her hands over the back of his neck, looking him to the eyes. Victor leaned in, forgetting all about him being a gentleman, putting his fingers into the back pocket of her denim shorts, bringing her lap closer to his. 

“Well, you told me to take the shirt off. Who am I to not to listen to a lady's wish?” Victor looked into her eyes as she smirked. He felt the redhead just focusing her stares in his direction and he was really proud to prove her wrong. 

Without any foreshadowing, she just leaned in and kissed him. Their lips crushed hard and he could feel her heat just slowly trailing his body as well. She was definitely drunk as hell, but Victor wasn’t complaining. It gave her the courage he liked and pushed him further as well. 

“Come then. I’m not able to wait for you any longer. You let me hang on for almost a week and you didn't come to wash your clothes in the meantime,” Y/N whispered with her eyes pinned to Sullivan’s, taking the cup out of his hand.

She tugged his hand as she navigated them through the house. Victor felt the stares surrounding them and yet he wasn't more proud until that day. 

They took a short hike on the stairs and Victor let her take the lead. She was looking around, changing short looks with other people. Every second she checked Victor. She was afraid that he would leave even tho he was holding her hand in a tight grip. He wasn't planning on leaving her there at any circumstances. 

Finally, she found a bedroom without anyone inside and she let out an animalish growl as she turned around and slammed the door shut, locking them. The music was loud so much Victor couldn't even hear his own thoughts which was actually a good thing. He didn't want to be bothered with his own thoughts. There was no space for rationality at the moment. 

It all happened so fast. Heated kisses stopped only when there was a need to breathe, fingers circled in his air and a smell of desire and passion in the air. Only growls mixed with the music could be heard in the thin air. His bomber flew off his body in an instance, just laying down on the ground just so he could feel her hands roaming his body. 

Then the shoes and socks left their bodies at an equally fast pace, disappearing into the unknown. There was no need for words, no need for anything. There was only her and him alone in a room and desire was burning on each of them.

"What the hell are you doing to me? Just rip the shirt off, stop teasing me, Victor." She begged into his lips and tried to take the shirt and take it off by her own force. Victor immediately stopped her, holding her wrist in a tight grip.

“You're so impatient, young lady,” Victor whispered as he pushed her and let her fall directly on the bed. “You need to learn some patience,” Sully whispered with a voice sounding more like an animal than himself. He had to say that he really adored that a young girl of her nature was able to do that to him. 

He learned how to have his own nature under control while he was in the marina. It looked like if it happened a hundred years ago, it was more than ten years ago and even now, sometimes the man who was working as a marina soldier showed up in him. Especially in times like this.

Victor wouldn't describe this part of himself like a dominant or selfish part, not at all. He just became sure in everything he has done, he was direct and he knew a few ways how to make her scream under his touch. All it took for her was a will to listen. 

“And if I don't want to be patient and I'll be a naughty girl?” Y/N asked as she swung on her knees, taking his belt to her small soft hands, trying to undo it with the grace of a horny beast. 

Victor held her wrists with a small effort to that touch, only a little push was needed to knock her off on her back, pushing his body directly on hers and letting his face rest in front of hers. He stayed in that position a while, he listened to her heartbeat and the rhythm of how she breathed. 

Y/N looked like a painting with her face full of the sweet expectations, she had rosy cheeks and a naughty light in her eyes. Her lips were swollen because of the urgency of the way he kissed her and he felt how much was her body trembling under his weight. 

She was sweet like honey and intoxicating like a shot of alcohol. His head was spinning a bit and if he couldn't feel the heat in between her legs, which was burning through their pants, he would stay in this position for forever. 

“Then I would have to use some methods which are used when I'm taming a little baby girl like you are,” Victor answered in a low, perfectly husky tone even though the voice was raspy and it was stuck inside of his throat. 

He lowered his hands after he made himself sure that she would stay in a position with her hands above her head, kissing her throat hungrily as he made a few of love marks and bites here and there. Victor couldn't help himself, some urge inside of him directly needed to mark her as his, for everyone to see when they left the room. He also expected her to stop him, but when she closed her eyes and panted in a sweet high tone, he knew that he's doing the right thing. 

His hands slowly lured over her, unfortunately, still clothed, body, caressing it through the fabric of his most beloved shirt. With a quick movement, he took off his white shirt and threw it all over the small bedroom. Y/N didn't even give him a quick look, because she used her own hands to unbutton the shirt. She slipped out of it, standing on her elbows and finally watched, how handsome he was. 

He was in good shape, without a doubt. His shoulders were really wide as the muscles were appearing perfectly clearly under his suntanned skin. He was scared and bruised in many places; her favorite was a light, yellow bruise under his left armpit. His body was through a lot and she knew it; he told her about what he does for a living. It wasn't a thing to wonder about.

“You are like some fucked up fantasy,” she whispered under breath when she touched Victor's chin while he unbuttoned her shorts. “Can I be your little dirty  kink?” 

“Let me taste and then we'll see, baby girl,” the shorts and panties were far gone now, as she lay in front of him with her legs opened to show him everything Y/N got. She was basically sinking into the mattress, even the little valley dividing her sweet fanny was wet. She was breathing heavily as he watched her, almost waiting for permission. 

Without any other things popping up in his head, he just leaned forward, showing his head directly to the place she was dripping from. His tongue was fast, rough and that's what she needed so badly. She screamed to the roof and leaned from him in a wave of pleasure; so his forearms circulated around the top of her thighs, holding her directly on his face. Victor wanted this girl to be his death and that was a thing he never wanted before. 

He wished to slowly drown in her dripping pussy, he wanted to close his eyes and slowly fall into the warmth of her lap, letting the tightness slowly choke him. Victor would accept all of that with a graceful smile. None of this was forced. He couldn't even remember a single time when he was kneeling in front of a woman, licking and sucking her like he was about to die and her pussy was the last thing that could save him. He growled into the sweetness as he was trying to get more of that juice. 

After a while, her body found its rhythm, slowly moving in the tempo of his tongue as her hand slowly risen up and twirled in his hair, tucking it gently. Her sweet pitches were the thing that was heating up to go further and further, even though his tongue and jaws were hurting.

“No, no, no,” Y/N said in a shaky voice. She tugged his lips from the hottest spot on her body and Victor looked at her with confusion. Was he too rough? Why didn't she tell him that he's not doing her good? What could be done better? “I want to come on ya, Texas. Take those fucking jeans off and just do me good with that dick you're hiding down there.” Y/N leaned in for a short kiss, tasting her own flavor from his lips. 

“I don't believe ya that ya haven't fucked woman in the woods. I mean, look at ya.” She said as she sat down on her ass and started to take her bra off, taking it with the shirt and throwing it on the ground.

“Look at me?”

“You look like a playboy, Texas. Your body just screams that you just lean woman on a tree and fuck the soul out of her body.” She smirked as she lied on her back, circling her fingers around the top of the bed. 

“I mean, I haven't tried it yet,” Victor smiled when he kicked his jeans on a nearby bookcase. He climbed on the bed in between her legs, watching as her breasts moved up and down. “But if you're up to this sort of things, you can teach me.”

“Fuck me hard, mister Sullivan and then well see,” she whispered in a quiet tone. He mumbled shirt curse word under his breath; he hadn't think about condoms until this minute. 

“Just do it, Texas,” she wiggled her hips from side to side with a smirk of a naughty girl. “I'm on my pills.” 

He didn't need any other words. This was everything he needed to hear. He wanted to fuck the words out of her mouth and the teasing out of her head. Victor took her left hand in his right, entwining their fingers together and crashing his lips into hers as he slowly buried himself inside of her. No words were needed at that moment. It was just the two of them, breathing, sighing of a high woman and animal man growls and the song downstairs just slowing down and thrifting into another one. 

He wasn't gentle with her at all. He was bouncing into her in a rough, quick tempo, he wasn't holding back anything. She was moaning his name with grace and gratefulness, being completely full of his dick. One of their hand was entwined with each other, holding each other in a tight grip, the second one was holding on the headboard od the bed, trying to hold it tightly from moving. 

They were already heard all over the second floor and they knew that, but nothing could stop them at that point.

Her little valley was burning hot and wetter than Niagaras, her boobs were jumping in the tempo which their bodies were moving in. She tilted her head backward, closing her eyes with a sweet symphony out of her mouth. Victor leaned into her throat and started to bite into the tight, firm skin she got there.

They weren't too far from achieving the heights of orgasm. At one point it seemed that she wasn’t able to even breathe as she whined and shaken bit, holding him close by putting her leg on his waist. He could feel her little sanctuary where he was buried tightening in light vibrations at first, just as those words escaped her mouth. 

“I'm about to come, Texas.” 

And that's what made the bomb inside Sullivan just wildly go off. He wasn't gentle with her until that point, but now he went fully in, fucking her into the mattress like a machine. Her body just moved into his as she arched her back and shook her head as the sounds were just escaping her mouth. They went higher and higher as the closed her eyes firmly and all of a sudden...

“Oh my fucking God, Victor!” Y/N screamed loudly out of pure extasy as her body shaken firmly, she held him in her arms as he continued on fucking her to release himself; now holding the head of the bed in his arms as the sweat was pouring from him onto her skin. 

Y/N was lucky enough to find a new level of ecstasy with him. Normally, the guys stopped when she was done, just handling their boners on their own; but Victor wasn't that kind of guy. He wanted to mark even on the place where no-one could see it. Her pussy was wet and handling him so good that he hadn't got any reason to stop until he felt, how the energy is released from him. 

Then, after all of that, he slowly put his forehead on hers, trying to catch his breath. He didn't even notice how wet both of them are because of the sweat and how red her cheeks were. She was still holding his back, trembling a bit, her eyes were closed. She held herself close to him, her pussy was holding his dick, her thighs were holding his waist and her hands were on his back. 

He could finally see what he caused to her - the left side of her neck was practically violet, full of bloody love marks and bites; there were a few on the other side of her neck as well, but not as much as on the other side.

“Are you alright, baby girl?” His palm slowly smoothed her wet hair, definitely released from the ponytail. 

“I've never experienced anything as good as this, Texas,” Y/N said quietly as she kissed him slowly, with that tender, post-sex passion. Sully slowly crawled out of her body, lying next to her, watching her slowly turning to lay on her belly. 

“So you asked if you could be my kink, did you?” Sully trailed his hand from her shoulder to her waist, gently caressing the skin of per perfectly shaped bum. She nodded, smiling into her forearms. “I'm sure you can. But what now?” 

“What about just take the clothes on and leaving this place together? Take me wherever ya want, Texas.” She sat, searching for her panties and denim shorts. 

“God. I want to fuck you again as soon as I can.” Sully whispered as she slowly put her bra on, hiding it underneath his white t-shirt and that motorcycle bomber. Her hair was all around her face in long waves and she was smiling, still having rosy cheeks and sweaty forehead. 

“So come on, we’ll see what we can do about that.” She tried to speed him up while he was taking his boxers and jeans on. When he was all tidily done, she took his hand in hers, taking him out of the house. Sullivan couldn't describe the pride when she moved her hair so every single person could see her marks. She showed them as war scars, she wore them proudly. 

So they left together that day. And the days after as well. 

[bts-reacts]

Info Game

Well it’s my turn here we go

Last

1. Drink - Arozina green tea with honey and ginseng this runs through my veins

2. Phone call - My boo 

3. Text message - Also my boo

4. Song you listened to - Well if you don’t count what I’m currently listening to, EOEO by UNIQ

5. Time you cried - This morning. I AM A VERY PASSIONATE SINGER AND I SAW A VIDEO WHERE THIS GIRL ON THE UNIT HIT A BEAUTIFUL, PERFECT HIGH NOTE. THEN THE GROUP DID AMAZING HARMONIES It was The Yellow group singing Jackpot. I got shook

Ever

6. Dated someone twice - when I was in 4th-8th grade and didn’t knw what dating was I went back and forth with the same guy every single damn year

7. Kissed someone and regretted it - Every boy I hooked up with during my senior year I was discovering myself through a hoe phase

8. Been cheated on - my ex cheated on me for 6 months of our 1 year relationship. Then called me a crazy bitch for calling him out on it and telling the girl he had another gf. I am still blocked on all of his social media

9. Lost someone special - I was raised by a single mother until I was about 7 years old. My step dad was the first man I had in my life to be considered a father, and in 2012 he passed away in a motorcycle accident. He got hit headon by a semi truck while he was planning a ride for our church

10. Been depressed - I am the shining definition of depression

11. Gotten drunk and threw up - I don’t touch alcohol because the yeast smell is disgusting

Fave colors:

12. Pastels

13. Not pink I have red hair so I grew up dressed in pink because “it made my hair look nice”

14. Honestly it depends on the day. Some days I have a favorite color, other days I have a different one.

In the last year have you…

15. Made new friends - do my coworkers count? I mean I’m around them 40 hours a week. That’s more than my family

16. Fallen out of love - I’ve been with my bf for over a year so I’ve actually done the complete opposite

17. Laughed until you cried - Totes

18. Found out someone was talking about you - Honestly I don’t remember

19. Met someone who changed you - I had an old coworker who made me realize just how gross some guys can be. He got excited when my bf left for China and asked me everyday if he could be my “temporary bf”??????????????

20. Found out who your friends are - Well I’ve only ever had two true friends so I guess I found out who my friends are years ago

21. Kissed someone on your Facebook friends list - My grandma and my boo?

General

22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know irl - Honestly a lot of them knew me through school, but I didn’t actually know them personally. I’ve gone through and deleted people eveyr now and again because I don’t know them and I don’t want them clogging up my feed

23. Do you have any pets - I HAVE SO MANY. Three cats: two grumpy old men and one excited young kitty. AND 3 BEAUTIFUL PUPPIES WHO ALL THREE COME RUNNING WHEN YOU SHOUT FOR THE BABIES TO COME HERE

24. Do you want to change your name - I used to. No one spells it right, or says it right the first time. When the teacher would do roll call on the first day of school I would know they were talking about me when they paused and stared at the list. It’s spelled Shaina. I’ve had Shayna, Shania, Shanna, and one girl at a starbucks spelled it Shanea. I guess it just makes me unique so I’ll stick with it.

25. What did you do for your last birthday - My bf and I took a small vacation up to Chicago and visited museums, aquariums, AND ATE HOTDOGS AND DEEP DISH PIZZA

26. What time did you wake up today - 12:30ish

27. What were you doing @ midnight last night - playing Detroit because Connor is a gorgeous puppy who needs protection

28. What is something you can’t wait for - I can’t wait to move out of my mom’s house in a month or so

30. What are you listening to right now - Generally, I’m addicted to (G)IDLE’s new comback. Literally and currently, my spotify is playing Cypher Pt 4

31. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom - Honestly I have a terrible memory so I don’t know

32. Something that gets on my nerves - Everything. But really, people who act like they’re better than you just beause they have more experience in something or have been somewhere for a long time. I have a coworker who thinks he’s right about everything because “He’s been working there a long time”

33. Most visited website - Gmail and CreditKarma. School just started so I’m obssesive over my email and I’ve always been obssesive over my credit score

34. Hair color - Dark red. Not most ginger’s red. As I’ve gotten older, it’s darkened towards a brownish red

35. Hair long or short - very long. It’s halfway down my back when I put it in a high ponytail and need at least 2 holders to keep it up in a bun

36. Do you have a crush on someone - nope

37. What do you like about yourself - I love my hair and my brain. My hair and eye color is a unique combination (brown eyes w/ red hair). I’ve always been extremely creative since I was little and that’s such a big part of who I am

38. Want any piercings - Ever since I was emo, I’ve wanted my lip pierced

39. Blood type - I have no clue

40. Nicknames - Depends on who you ask. My grandpa calls me little red, my friend calls me Shay, an old friend from high school caled me Shane Dog

41. Relationship status - Surprisingly taken

42. Zodiac - Pisces

43. Pronounce - She/her

44. Fave TV shows - Anything I watch is a fave tv show

45. Tattoos -None but I desperately want some

46. Right or left handed - Right. But when I was younger my cat bit my right hand so I couldn’t move it. So I can eat comfortably with any hand, but I only write with my right hand

47. Ever had surgery - Nope

48. piercings - The traditional one piercing in both ears

49. Sports - Dancing and I still love softball even though I stopped playing in th grade

50. Vacations - I high key want to visit Madrid and Mexico City. 

51. Trainers - ???

More general

52. Eating - Last thing I ate was the best ramen ever for dinner

53. Drinking - Lipton green tea I love green tea

54. I’m about to watch - Well I’m currently in the middle of Bromance and Strong Girl Bong Soon

55. Waiting - to go to bed

56. Want - to transfer to my dream college that on the other side of the country...

57. Get married - I feel too young to be married atm. Plus my bf and I have only been together for a year. But if I do my uncle can legally marry me so that’s sweet

58. Career - Currently working as a cook at Applebee’s. But my dream career is to be a business owner of my own bakery. or a singer, I want to sing so badly but that’s unrealistic :/

59. Hugs or kisses - Hugs all day

60. Lips or eyes - I am just mesmorized by single lid eyes idk why

61. Shorter or taller - a bit taller. like a few inches

62. Older or younger - Older

63. Nice stomach or stomach - I’ve had both and I didn’t love myself either way. I’m more worried about feeling comfortable in my body so I don’t care about which one I guess?

64. Hookup or relationship - relationship. Hookups will still text you every month asking if you’re single yet so you can hook up again. They’re too stressful tbh

65. Troublemaker or hesitant - Little of both

Have you ever

66. Kissed a stranger - Unfortunately yes

67. Drank hard liquor - I’ve had sips of my mother’s wine that is it

68. Lost glasses - I’VE LOST LIKE 3 PAIRS OF GLASSES SOMEHOW???

69. Turned someone down - Yes

70. Sex on first date - Another unfornately yes

71. Broken someone’s heart - Not that I know of

72. Had your heart broken - The first boy I loved broke my heart when I was 15

73. Been arrested - I cry when I get pulled over for not wearing a steatbelt. I’ve never been arrested

74. Cried when someone died - my step dad dying came as a shock. I did the whole stare into space, sit down and continue staring, then sob. It was like a tv show

75. Fallen for a friend -  nah

Do you believe in

76. Yourself - Kinda

77. Miracles - Hell ye

78. Love at first sight - I used to, but then I learned that that is not love.

79. Santa Claus - I did until I was almost in high school

80. Kiss on first date - My first date iwht my bf, he hugged me goodbye and gave me a little kiss on the should r that was really cute. So if it’s those kinds of kisses yes

81. Angels - Totes

Other

82. Best friend’s name - Katlyn and Alex 

83. Eye color - Dark DARK brown

84. Fave movie - The Harry Potter series. ALl day every day

85. Favorite actor - I really like Benedict Cumberbatch for some reason?

Wow that took me forever. There’s more about me tho!!! I better go to bed because it’s almost 1 and I have a class tomorrow at 9 kill me

~Admin Red

[thebatfamhasaliabilityanditsme]

So, since I’ve been here, they’ve finally begun to trust me enough that they will let Alfred leave the house. He’s been my constant babysitter, I suspect never more than ten feet away, even at my most intimate moments.

(A suspicion confirmed when I wondered aloud about Squatty Potties one morning, only to find one nestled beneath my toilet the next day. I choose to believe this is due to in-person, non-visual lurking and not a 24/7 live feed of my grunting face. Somehow, that seems more comforting. Anyways, back to the story.)

Of course, I’m not at the manor alone. Hey, baby steps. Bruce is working on something or other, above ground, in the study. I’m allowed to wander the house, but they still take extra precautions to prevent me from seeing the Batcave.

At some point mid-morning (vague estimates like this are part of the reason they don’t give me more responsibilities, I’m sure) the doorbell rang. Which is a little unusual. Usually if someone we don’t know visits, they use the intercom at the gate, and don’t make it past to the doorbell. If it is someone we know, they usually walk right in. I figured maybe someone needed help carrying something in.

Naïve.

I open the door and immediately start having a terrible flashback by proxy for Babs. Joker’s standing there (sans Hawaiian shirt, even though I can picture it so clearly) pointing a gun in my face (I can imagine the camera, but in this case the gun stands out a little more starkly). My heartrate skyrocketed and I lost track of my breathing. I’m pretty sure I instantly broke out in a sweat. Or at least I remember my hair being damp later.

My first impulse was to close the door, but I knew that wouldn’t work. There’s a story that goes with this too, but for the sake of plot flow, I think I’m going to just start adding appendices on this thing.

So. See Appendix A.

After an eternity, maybe just a couple of seconds, Joker rasped (See Appendix B) out, “Well, aren’t you going to ask me in?”

Lacking the ability to think of any better options, I opened the door the rest of the way. “Won’t you?”

“Why thank you.” He stepped over the threshold. He seemed alone. I couldn’t see anyone else, but I also couldn’t see a car out front. “I was expecting that prim British butler, but your manners are at least passing.” He spun around as I closed the door behind us, the gun waggling with a nonchalant threat. “May I ask after the master of the house?”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah, Bruce is right down here,” I half gestured in the direction of the study.

“Bruce!” he skipped over to my side, threw the gun from one hand to the other, elbowing me jokingly (but in the direction I gestured), “You’re certainly not that butler!” His voice dropped an octave to mock, “’Master Wayne this, Master Wayne that.’”

We started walking, and the silence hung too heavy on the air. I figured if I could at least keep him talking, Bruce might hear from around the corner and be able to react. “He’s not in today.”

Quick as a whip, the Joker quipped, “At the hairdresser’s then?” (See Appendix C)

And wouldn’t I be damned but I just about laughed out loud. As it was, a panicky smirk struggled on my face just long enough for him to see.

“Think that’s funny do you?” He threw the gun back into the hand closest to me and smacked the muzzle threateningly on my shoulder in cadence as he said, “They don’t call me the Joker for my impeccable sense of style.”

My eyes bobbed with the gun. Understanding his implication, I coughed out a weak chuckle, distinctly unlike the genuine laugh I had fought back a moment ago. He frowned.

We turned a corner. The study was just a few doors down this hallway. The doors were open. If I could get the Joker to talk loud enough, maybe-

“He’s in there, is he?” Joker dropped his voice to a whisper. Damn. “Well, once we’re there, you’ll be a good little maidservant and get his attention for me, won’t you?” The gun lifted from over my shoulder to touching my chin.

I just nodded.

We turned the corner into the open room. Bruce hadn’t heard us approach, hadn’t even heard the doorbell ring. Appendix D. He remained at the desk, shuffling through and examining a disarray of papers.

Joker stepped to be behind me. Yay human shield. He jabbed the gun into my back. Not too forceful, just a reminder. As if I’d forgotten.

I cleared my throat. Nothing. “Um, Bruce?” I heard my voice betray my fear with a squeak. Still nothing.

Now Joker jabbed the gun forcefully into my side. I jumped a little, raised my voice, “Bruce!”

Still. Nothing. Joker grabbed my shoulder, dug the gun into my side, and glared at me impatiently. I looked back with fear and confusion and apparently a little bit of “watch this” judging by the smile he gave me.

I inhaled deeply then let out a cry like a caribou calling for a mate, half leaning out of the Joker’s grasp.

“BUH-ROOOOOOOooooooooOOOOOOOOSE!” Joker grabbed a knot of my hair firmly, yanking me upright as I finished shouting.

Bruce’s head jerked up from the table. (Appendix E.) His mouth set in a grim line.

Joker hissed in my ear, “Announce me.”

I tried to clear my throat, but all that came out was a weak little whimper, “Joker’s here to see you.”

The Joker let go and as I fell to the side, he simultaneously pistol-whipped me and said, “The Brit would have done it with more pomp.”

I hit the other side of my head on an end table on my way down and blacked out by the time I hit the floor.

---------- 

Appendix A: Jason’s Wild Ride

A couple of weeks ago, Jason got bombed off his ass. He entirely forgot that he had already announced his resurrection to Bruce and everybody, and in his inebriated state decided to do a shortcut version. In full Red Hood garb (the old one from storage with the musty blue jacket), he got on his motorcycle and just. Crashed. Through. The Front Door. Screaming “I’m back bitches!”. After fumbling for and dropping his gun a couple of times, Tim managed to peacefully disarm him. It went like this:

Tim: Uh, Jason?

Jason: Oh, hi Replacement!

Tim: Would you mind handing over your guns?

Jason: Y’know, I’m too sloshed to have these anyways. Take them.

When Jason woke up late the next evening, Bruce was LIVID. He all but dragged him down to the cave by his ear and made Jason go through firearms training again from Step One: don’t handle when drunk. Hungover is apparently okay.

I tried to ask Tim what got Jason so uncharacteristically blackout drunk in the first place. It wasn’t around any important dates I could remember. Tim just shrugged. He was either ignoring me, or didn’t know, or knew but didn’t trust me enough to tell me.

So! Not only did I 1- learn the original door was not reinforced in any way but also 2- witnessed the installation of a similarly “plain” wooden door in its place.

 ***

Appendix B: Rasped? Growled? Politely Queried?

What is up with that voice? It’s so haunting and familiarly unfamiliar. It’s halfway between “jovial pre-teen boy who’s voice is just beginning to crack” and “cynical 76 year old grandmother who’s been smoking since she developed the fine motor control necessary”. And yet neither. It’s something you can’t describe, can’t imagine, and then, once heard, want to forget.

 ***

Appendix C: Get it?

Because he’s bald?

…

I thought it was f*ckin hilarious.

 ***

Appendix D: WTF

Like seriously. What the ever-loving son of milk mold? BRUCE? OBLIVIOUS? Later, he said, no he REALLY hadn’t heard the doorbell and he REALLY hadn’t heard us approach. When I, and others, asked what he was doing, he just shut down and barked, “I was busy” at us.

F*cker.

“I WaS bUsY.”

 ***

Appendix E: Speedster’s POV

Bruce did not just “look up”. I feel like only a speedster would have been able to fully appreciate the range of reactions and emotions that passed over Bruce in that sharp half second. As is, I will imagine I am one and try to describe the details of his reaction, as I saw them. Also, as I’d like to interpret them.

First, when he registered me mid-cry, he closed his eyes and knit his brows. I’m fairly confident this was a “what is this liability on my house doing now”. Then, by the sheer power of eye-rolling, his head began to raise and he started to snap, “What”. If you’d have paused in that moment, it would have been glorious derp. I might draw it later.

As his eyes passed our lower half, he let just a shiver of confusion cross his face.

Then he registered who I was with and the hatred passed over him like a shadow. Just for a moment, the cowl was on. Just as quickly, the mask of Bruce returned. He settled on a concerned, indignant expression.

[avatoh]

Shawn's motorcycle breaks down so he calls Lassie and says that he psychically saw a robbery in progress but really it is just so he can get a ride to the churro festival

~AO3 FIC LINK HERE~

It was supposed to be a good day that day, but then out of nowhere, Gus had unexpectedly been called into work causing him to have to cancel his plans with Shawn and leave his friend to fend for himself. He felt bad about canceling but it had to be done; he’d missed too many days already.

That evening, the two of them had planned on going to a festival in town that had the best Mexican-American food there was to offer. They had set their sights mainly on the wide array of eatery at the festival; mainly on the fresh fish tacos, tamales, enchiladas, tostadas and, of course, the desserts. There was a churro vendor who made the best churros either man had ever tasted and he only came around once a year. His churros were a rare yearly delicacy and always a must-buy for everyone at the festival. Almost everyone there would try to purchase one.

They had written out a plan of what they wanted to eat, how much they could eat, when they could eat it, and what they wanted to bring home when they were too full to eat anymore. The planning was strategic because some foods tended not to taste as good the next day or even a few hours later, namely greasy, fried, or wet  foods, which was extremely prevalent at the festival.

“We’ll start with tacos,” Shawn said.

Gus nodded. “ I can’t believe we missed out on those next year because you had to try that new thing. Anyway, then we’ll move onto the quesadillas, then a snack; like guacamole or something like that. Then tamales.”

They had planned their big festival feast accordingly. All was looking up for them; a whole evening of delicious fried food and fun. Then Gus had be the bearer of bad news and canceled.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized over the phone. “You know I wanted to go to this as much as you did. I’ve barely eaten all day too,” Gus sniffed back some tears. “Bring me back some tamales,” he said, his heart breaking. “And a few churros.”

“Alright, Buddy,” Shawn had said. “I’ll bring you back some churros and something nice.” This would be his first time he would be going to the festival alone. He would be lonely and of course, without Gus, there was no Blueberry and that made his situation a lot more uncomfortable. He’d have to go on his motorcycle, which meant he couldn’t bring back as much food as he had originally intended to. He was almost tempted not to go at all. Too bad he didn’t have a date..

Sighing, Shawn put on his clothes, ready to leave. He made sure to wear lots of pockets that day, and big ones at that, in order to increase his maximum food carrying capacity. He’d be damned if he couldn’t carry back as much food as he could for him and Gus to eat the next day while they hung out at the psych office, not getting cases the whole day as they watched T.V.

He stepped outside, and after slipping on his riding backpack and helmet, he was off.

The festival wasn’t too far away but unfortunately for him, he found that it didn’t matter how far it was or not because a few miles into his journey, his bike stopped. He felt himself loosing speed until he stalled out to a dead stop.

“Go, goddammit!” he cursed at his bike as a few passing cars honked at him.

He had to do the motorists walk of shame and walk his bike to the side of the street as he attempted to her running again with no luck.

Shawn went out of his way to examine every inch of the bike. It had gas in it, that was a given, he’d filled it up not that long ago so that wasn’t the problem. It didn’t seem to be leaking anything or smoking either. Shawn was a man who didn’t know much about bikes but in that moment he knew enough to know there was no way it was going to start up again anytime soon. He’d have to call somebody to pick him up, wasting precious festival time. There was one person he knew, with a truck, who might be able to help him.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hey. Whatever it is you need today, no. I’m busy.”

“But, Dad-”

“No buts, Shawn. I’ve already told you, I’m busy.”

“But my motorcycle broke down and I’m late to a festival with good food. Gus is at work.”

Henry sighed on the other line. “That sounds rough but I’m fishing right now so I can’t help you, kid. Call a tow truck company and I’ll see you later.”

“If I do that I won’t be able to-”

Henry hung up.

“Go to the festival.” he finished. “Well then,” Shawn said outloud.

He put his bike’s kickstand out and sat on the side of the road thinking about all the food he’d miss if he called a tow truck. Tacos, Churros, Elote. Refried beans. Salsa. Chile carcane. He sighed. He could always have the tow truck drop him off at the festival, he thought, but then again, it was still a bit far and out of the way. Also, he’d have to find a way back. And he’d have to spend his food money on a tow truck and possibly a way home. There was no way he could afford that and get food.

Julliet. He could always call Juliette. She was a good friend, but she was currently at work. No, he wouldn’t be able to call her. Lassiter too.

A quick thought crossed his mind. Lassie wasn’t at work. He’d been sick all last week and had been forced to take some days off by the Chief. He was free and lived nearby, but he would never agree to take him and his bike over to the festival ….

A devilish smile spread across Shawn’s face: he had an idea.

Quickly hitting number 3 on speed dial, Shawn got Lassiter on the line. “Lassie! Lassie!” He shouted over the phone in the most distressed voice he could manage. “ Lassie! Get over here right now! I just witnessed a robbery! A vision! I had a vision! I’m about 3 blocks away from your house, right by the Subway and the Panera! Hurry!”

“Wha- Shawn?” He sounded half asleep but when he heard the word ‘robbery’ his voice cleared and he got up. “I’ll be right there,” he heard Lassiter’s gruff voice respond back before hanging up on him.

Of course Shawn did feel bad about calling a half-sick Lassiter out on a robbery, but once Lassiter tasted the churros and the other good food there, he’d definitely forgive him. Plus, he knew he could probably make up a good enough lie about the perp later. He had the whole rest of the day to think on that.

A few minutes of thinking of a story later, Lassiter pulled up in his personal car with sirens attached to the top  it and his gun out in his hand. “What happened?”Shawn wanted to laugh at lassiter’s appearance. He’d probably just woken up by the looks of it and rushed right over with his hair in disarray and his shirt buttoned wrong.

Remembering to play the part of a distressed witness, Shawn shot up from the curb. “I had a vision! I saw this guy. He had a gun to this other guy’s back. The victim, who had on an apron, told him that he had no money and that everything he had was in his festival booth. You know? That festival that goes on today only? The one with the good churros? Anyway, the robber guy tells him to get into his car and to take him there for the money. I chased them down to here, but something happened to my motorcycle and-”

“Dammit, Shawn. Why didn’t you call the cops! That’s dangerous! You could have gotten hurt!”

“I dunno,” Shawn twiddled his thumbs. “A lot was going through my mind. I thought of calling you.”

Shawn could have sworn he saw a light blush spread across Lassiter’s face. The man really must have been sick.

Lassiter picked up his phone and started dialing “We should call them now. I could have them surround the place-”

“No!” Shawn shouted, grabbing at Lassiter’s hand and the phone. “No. Uh, there’s lots of kids there. Families! If we call the cops he’ll be suspicious and besides, it will be too late by then-”

Lassiter looked at Shawn’s hand holding his and then at Shawn’s face. He narrowed his eyes.

“You have your guns, and your cuffs,and you’re a cop,  right?” Shawn asked.

“Yes…”

“Then you can do it. Come on, man! Let’s catch that criminal” Shawn said, dragging Lassiter to his car.

The two of them had somehow managed to get Shawn’s bike into the car before leaving.

As soon as they were on the road, Lassiter turned on his sirens again, getting them quickly to their destination. They arrived having had the sirens turned off the last few blocks and parked the vehicle.

Lassiter straightened himself up. “So what did this man look like? “

Shawn shrugged. “Donno. I mean- don’t remember.” He caught himself.

“What about the victim?” Lassiter asked.

Shawn shrugged again. “I’ll know them when I see them.”

Lassiter gave him a suspicious look again. “I hope you do.” He looked up and down the crowd, judgingly.

They walked among the festival grounds together for awhile before Shawn suggested they check out some of the booths: the food booths. There was a lot of them fortunately for him. “We gotta start at the beginning. Every booth with food! We can’t miss one!”

“You check this side and I’ll check the other for suspicious activity,” Lassiter suggested.

“Alright.” Shawn said happily. That way he could get away with buying his food that he wanted.

After spending about $75, Lassiter appeared right next to Shawn again, telling him he hadn’t found anyone.

“Jesus!” Shawn jumped, spilling his food. “You came out of nowhere!” He had dropped food right onto Lassiter’s shirt, making the grumpiest man in the world even more grumpy. Thankfully, he had napkins in his hand and started wiping him off. “Here let me get that.”

“Get those food covered mitts right off me this instant, Spencer!” Lassiter barked. “Why do you have that much food anyway. Don’t tell me you brought me here just so you could stuff your face. Is there even a robbery?”

“There is, there is!” Shawn assured, keeping his cool. “I’m just trying to blend in.”

“Blend in? Oh please, you have more food in you hand than anyone here,” Lassiter scoffed.

“And you have more on your shirt than anyone else here,” Shawn smirked.

Lassiter’s face looked red once again, Shawn observed. Huh.

“Take it off?”

“Excuse me?”

“You have another shirt under that, right?”

“Yes-”

“Then take it off.”

Lassiter groaned but complied. He looked a lot cleaner after he did. Shawn noted his appearance, with a whistle as Lassiter did so; it wasn’t often that he had his nice arms bared for the world, and Shawn, to simply see.

“Shut up!’ Lassiter hissed. “Come on, Lassie, you know you love it. Oh. And I think you owe me some more food.”

“You ran into me!” He seemed to shrink back a bit and hugged his arms to his body. He was bit sub conscious about strangers looking at him and his hairy arms like that.

“If you won’t pay for what on your shirt, at least buy something for yourself.” Shawn said. “You will look way less suspicious than walking around like you were, angrily staring at the vendors. You can be kinda intimidating, don’t take that the wrong way.”

Lassiter’s chest puffed out at the compliment. “Fine. I’ll get something. What’s that over there?” he pointed to a wheel shaped crackers in a  clear plastic bag.

“Duros or Chicharrones.”

“I think i’m just going to go for an ice cream or something. I at least know what that is.”

Shawn liked the thought of Lassiter eating an icecream but shook his head. “Come on, Lassie! This is a festival. There’s lots of new foods. At least try something new. Here. I’ll buy you a bag of those. You said you wanted them, right?”

“No, I-” he sighed.” Whatever. Sure. I’ll take them.” He went to the booth but paid with his own money when Shawn offered to pay for him. Lassiter took a bite of one of the airy snacks.

“You can put hot sauce or lime juice on it-”

“It’s fine like this,” he said, “But I think I’ll try that.” He took another bite, this time with the toppings Shawn suggested and made a face. “I liked it better plain.”

Shawn laughed at his twisted expression. “Let’s walk around some more. That sweets booth looks highly suspicious.”

They walked around and Shawn had convinced Lassiter to try a few more food items as they made their way through the different vendors. Lassiter seemed to be enjoying himself to the point of almost forgetting he was looking for a criminal.

“Here I bought you this salsa,” Shawn said. “It’ll help clear that cold that you have. It’ll clear you right up.”

“Oh. I’m all better now, but thanks for this. Have been well for the last 2 days.”

“Really?” Shawn asked. “I could have sworn that I saw you with a flushed face earlier. And you’ve been breathing a bit heavily and in gasps all evening-”

“Give me that.” Lassiter took the salsa and put it under his arm.

“We still haven’t found the assailant and victim and there’s not many people left. We haven’t missed a booth…” Lassiter said as they neared the last few booths.

“Yeah,” Shawn chuckled nervously.

Lassiter could tell something was up and the happy expression he’d worn the past half-hour faded into his usual scowl. “Shawn-”

“Using my first name already, and it’s only our first date?” Shawn nervously chuckled some more.

“Shawn!”

“Fine. Look. Ima come clean. I lied, alright? Gus canceled on me last minute and then my bike broke down and I had no one to take me here or enjoy this place with and-”

“And you called me over a fake robber! I could have had you arrested!”

“Technically you weren’t on duty, so…”

“I can’t believe you!” Lassiter said putting his hand against his forehead. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you! Your story was too good to believe!”

“But you believed it,” Shawn offered. “At least in the beginning. You were suspicious as soon as you saw me on the side of the road by your house though, admit it. I could tell the way you looked. But you decided to stick it out with me just on the off chance I was telling the truth, stop me if I’m wrong. You could tell I was lying even more when we got here. You are a good detective. But you stayed and you had fun right? It’s fine because It got you outside for the first time in awhile and you enjoyed it.”

“That’s besides the point! Shawn, I genuinely thought you were in danger at one point! I was asleep and you scared me for a second!”

“Sorry,” Shawn said, looking at how angry Lassiter was getting.

Suddenly a calm washed over his face.

“I’d called the station asking about reports of crime in the area before I left. There was none and you couldn’t have been the only witness. I had my suspicions. Then when you said where they had gone to, I’d known you were lying. Guster called me earlier today-?

“Gus did?”

“Yeah. He asked me if i’d go with you to the festival in his place. I’d said no, of course. But if i’d had know you were so lonely I would have-”

“Holy shit, really?”

“Yes,” Lassiter said.

“Fair enough, yes, I’m lonely. But don’t pretend you weren’t lonely too being sick all day by yourself.”

“I already told you, I’m not sick anymore-”

“Then why was your face all flushed?”

Lassiter let out a frustrated groan. “Don’t you ever shut the hell up?”

“I’ve been known to-”

“When?”

“Usually when I’m eating, but sometimes I still talk.” Shawn mused. “Kissing! When I kiss somebody I usually shut the hell up-”

Lassiter could tell that Shawn was baiting him like he always was. Now the question was was he willing to bite. After what Shawn had put him through today, of course he was.

“Oh really?”

“Yup.”

“Are you certain?”

“Why don’t you come and find out?” Shawn flirted. This was nothing new. What was new, however was that Lassiter decided to take a step closer to him. He got even close soon enough and was leaning in tight. His eyes looked heavy and his lips were parted. “Um. H-hey, Lassie. What are you doing?”

“Checking to see if you’re lying to me again..”

“I was just kidding, you know me.”

Lassiter blinked twice and backed away slowly. “Oh- so you don’t want to-”

“Of course I do! Have forever. But why are you- Why now?”

Lassiter sighed, losing his nerve. “Never mind. Forget about it.”

“Wait, Lassie,” Shawn grabbed him.

“I said forget about it.” His voice was monotone and trying not to betray any emotion. “I need some space. There’s only 30 minutes left of the festival left. See you at the car then.”

Shawn felt him slip between his fingers. “Lassie-”

The rest of the time Shawn spent moping around the festival grounds. Mopping, stress eating and feeling bad about himself. He had to stop flirting with Lassiter all the time. It had just become a habit now. Touching him, joking with him, it had all had become a habit. It was what Shawn Spencer did even though there was, indeed, some truth behind his touches and flirting. What Lassiter had done today by almost accepting him, had taken him by surprise and he’d lost the only real chance with him he’d ever had with him before he knew it had come to him. He was stupid.

It was dark now. The only people left were the vendors and people cleaning up and Shawn was alone, sitting at an empty bench surrounded by trash.. Lassiter had probably already left, he thought.. He could always call Jules or his dad to pick him up now- Just as he was taking out his phone to call one of them, he saw Lassiter appear in the distance. He got up from his seat and walked towards Lassiter who was in turn walking towards him.

They were quietly walking towards one another and hadn’t said a word. When they met up Lassiter finally spoke. “Come on. I’ve been waiting. You’re late.”

They walked back to his car slowly together.

It was silent and they just sat there with an unstarted car. Shawn had to break the silence. “Listen, Lassie, I’m sorry-”

“No, I am,” Lassiter said.

“For what?”

“I was just as bad. I knew there wasn’t an actual robbery this whole time. I played you just as bad as you thought you played me and that was wrong of me to do so-”

“We both fucked up today,” Shawn said.

“Yeah.”

“And about what I said, kissing me to shut me up- I shouldn’t have-”

“You were just joking, weren’t you? Like you always do? That’s fine. I know you wouldn’t have really have let me kiss you and I’m sorry for trying. I’m such an idiot. We were having such a good time and-I thought you meant it that time.”

“I would have let you! We were and I did…”

The air fell completely silent.

“You weren’t messing with me?” Lassiter said.

“You surprised me. Did you really want to kiss me back?”

Lassiter let out a breath of relief. “This whole time, I thought you were mocking me,” Lassiter rasped. “That you knew about my feelings and that you were mocking me for them.”

“Woah. Hey, Lassie, Lassie. Trust me when I say this, I had no idea how you felt about me until now, really. I thought you hated me!”

“Hated you!? Shawn, I might be in love with you!”

“Well you have a bad way of showing it!”

“I was so obvious with you, I thought I made it clear!”Lassiter groaned

“What did you do?” Shawn asked.

“I maintained eye contact with you, smiled a bit more, and let you touch me. I don’t so that that for anyone else! Have you seen me?”

“I thought you were irritated with me.”

“Sometimes, I was but-.”

“Look. We keep on misunderstanding each other” Shawn said. “Yes, you might have been bad at showing and expressing your emotions just as bad as I am but how about you show me, that we show each other them, for real, right now, if you’re are still game.”

“God you are so irritating,” Lassiter said with a nervous chuckle. He licked his lips out of nervousness and looked right at Shawn as he leaned in. “You better not be lying about you shutting up when you kiss people.”

“Only own way to find out,” Shawn winked, closing the gap

[jftie]

#1

What she was doing was something strange, she didn't believe at all in wishing on the stars or in miracles, yet there she was, looking at the moon and thinking about how its glow seemed to be her own, even though it wasn't.

“ I wish I had a love that was reciprocated” she laughed softly “I hope one day I will do that and not feel this emptiness.”

She laughed again, but at herself, what kind of person without common sense goes around talking to the sky as if he were her friend? If her mother saw her, she'd probably tell her she was suffering from dementia.

She took a breath, put her pyjamas on and went to her desk, sat down in the chair, and after opening a locked drawer she put all the letters she had been writing secretly for several months on top of the desk and started to read them.

¨Hi, Madison.

I don't know how to start this and you may not know who I am. And, even if you don't know, this is the first of many letters that I plan to write to you, but never to show you. If you were to ask me for a reason, I would say that I need to tell you somehow everything that I can't. I have accumulated too much, and keeping my feelings for you would only make my situation worse.

You know the basics about me (my name) and even though we've talked a few times, I've never had the chance to become your friend. We have some people in common, however there are some differences between us that are bigger than a chasm.

While you are warm and open to others, always trying to help others; I can barely relate to anyone without being afraid that they will think I am unpleasant, and I usually do, I have the gift of being hated for no reason.

We are poles apart even academically, who would say, while you excel in math, I can't understand even the simplest equation and despite looking for answers, I still don't understand what a first degree polynomial would do for me in everyday life.

Then there is art, where two planets, a galaxy and an entire universe separate us. I risk saying that I'm short because you don't even manage to draw a circle correctly or when it's our turn to write a poem and you get extremely nervous about it.

And... while you like boys, I like you.

Shall I tell you a secret? There is something inside me that wants to keep a little flame of hope alive that you can like girls, however, deep down I know that they don't and never will, and that if they did, you wouldn't notice me or that your life depended on it.

Let's get on with it.

To admire from afar your eyes, which despite being brown like the rest, have a unique glow that I adore, is something magical. Seeing your beautiful black hair moving gently in the wind during the break, and drawing it in one of my many notebooks, is an activity I would never tire of.

And in spite of all that and that I prefer to remain silent, I would like you to notice at least a small part of my presence.

Love, Adda¨

After a few hours of reading, she decided to carefully put all the cards back where they came from, however, she stopped and noticed a red envelope deep in the drawer, which looked nothing like the ones she was using.

She took it out of the drawer and after looking at it for a while she noticed that it was very carefully decorated, with gold-patterned borders and sealed with a light grey rhombus. Not caring too much, she threw the letter on top of his chest of drawers and after she had finished caging his feelings in a locked drawer, she took the envelope and put it on the desk.

What she had ingested hours ago was having an effect, and although she still had time to regret it, she felt that it was not the right thing to do, that perhaps she would be better off without his interruptions or discomfort, or so she thought. .

A few streets away a young black-haired woman was going through her philosophy notes until she saw a light blue envelope with gold edges.

Cautiously she opened the envelope and when she saw the calligraphy she immediately recognized who had put it there.

¨Sometimes I think of certain things, of actions we both do, and I wonder what we are, or rather what you want us to be. I swear I try like a madwoman not to throw myself on you and kiss your lips, or tell you how much I love you. Not telling you how much I love your smile, your eyes, which despite being brown like the rest, have an incomparable shine.

You don't know my heart at all, my tears are increasing every time I see you, and I think I'll never manage to pass the gigantic barrier of friendship that separates us. I feel pangs in my heart, and how I find it difficult to breathe when for some reason you ignore me, and this love in solitude is making me sick.

I have thought about the possibility that you know everything and your actions are based on that, but despite having seen you in some of your worst moments, I put my hands on the fire for you, since it is impossible for you to act with any malice.

Maybe I'm confusing everything, and you act this way with everyone, but why have I never seen you do it with anyone else? Even with your closest friends, you're not like that, but no matter how much that happens I know that the chances of being with you don't exist, and if I am, like the coward I am, I'll never know.

I feel sad, but I should not, with you I feel that love is extremely close, but also so far away. I'm sick of this but still continue to do what I always do, and I wait patiently to notice that I am a step back and you turn around.

I hope that when I leave you can be very happy. Love, Adda¨

The girl, with tears in her eyes, got up from where she was and after putting on her shoes, ran to the ground floor of her house and explained the situation to her parents.

A few minutes later, she and her parents were on their way to the redhead's house. The youngest of the three was extremely nervous, and she couldn't understand anything. He said goodbye to her, yes, but why?

Perhaps the decision to go to her house was a hasty one, and even more so to knock on the door and enter as soon as it was opened.

The girl ran to Adda's room, with the letter in her hand and her hair becoming a tangle in the process, as soon as she arrived she tried to open her door, but it was locked.

“Damn it," she said, and knocked on the door, "Adda! Open the door," shouted as she knocked hard, "Adda!”

Maddison, with tears in her eyes and banging on the door, couldn't help but scream in frustration. The others heard her and went upstairs right away.

They tried to knock on the door for a few more minutes, and when there was no answer, Adda's brother decided to knock on the door and kicked it open. Maddison got ahead of him and could only increase her crying even more when she saw her passed out on her bed.

The blonde approached the bed and saw her letter on the desk, took it for a few seconds and noticed that it was still closed, but before asking herself anything, she took Adda's head and placed it on her legs, kissed it all over her face and gave her little punches on her cheeks while asking her to wake up.

When Maddison's parents saw their daughter in that state, they decided to take her out, and although she resisted at first, claiming that she was still alive, after a few seconds she gave in and was taken into the living room.

...

¨Hey Adda! I have no idea how to start this, and I'm blank as soon as I finish writing two words, and I don't know if you would like to, but I would like to meet you more.

These months I've had a lot of doubts, I've questioned absolutely everything and I've opened my mind to other possibilities. I don't know if I explain myself at all, but I've noticed the way you see me, I've noticed the silly way I act when I'm with you.

I've noticed that I like you.

At first I didn't think it was possible, I never thought that I would ever like a girl, but they say that things are only impossible if you think so.

I remember when you bumped into me in the hallway and apologized the second time; I wanted to tell you that there was no problem but when I turned to you I only managed to see your silhouette go quickly.

A few minutes later I met my friends and when I asked them about you, they all said the same thing "she's a strange girl, don't even try to get close"

As I kept digging, I knew that we shared some classes, that you were good at history and arts, while I sucked in every sense of the word. From that day on I didn't stop thinking about you, I was trying to get your attention but, as always, you were running scared somewhere.

We got closer the day Tiffany introduced us, it took only two words from you to realize that you are someone who wouldn't hurt a fly.

Time went by and the closer I got to you, the more my friends warned me, saying you were a freak, a bookworm. However, I always turned a deaf ear, and I tried to get to know you even better.

I discovered that behind so many shy girl's facade, there was a great person, funny and with great ideals, I found someone who understood me.

I don't remember exactly the day I realized that I liked you, I just know that I was surprised and went into a state of immense denial, and ignored you all the next week.

I didn't talk to you, I avoided you, and I even reluctantly replied when you tried to engage me in conversation.

I also remember the day when I told you that we would never become friends and you ran away from where we were, I regretted it after a few seconds and a huge sense of guilt came over me when I decided to follow you and heard you crying in the toilets.

I wanted to come closer, I wanted to tell you that I was sorry and that you were one of the best people I ever knew, however, I didn't.

I thought it would be for the best and that we would forget each other faster.

I hate myself for doing it.

Maybe if I had done the right thing now everything would be a little better, maybe if I hadn't been afraid, I could have accepted myself sooner.

Love, Maddison.¨

...

An ambulance drove with incredible speed through the city streets, sirens made cars and motorcycles to make way for them, which made it easier to get to the hospital.

The girl who was in it was immediately put on a stretcher and taken to a special room. It did not take many doctors, but many hours.

Already in the waiting room, seven people were waiting for the doctor to tell them something about the redhead. They waited and after a few minutes, the doctor left the room and went to them, after asking about the girl's relatives, and proceeded to explain her condition.

“Although it was not complicated to eliminate the liquid from her body, it only required a stomach wash," he rasped, "what is going to be complicated is to know if she will wake up, she ingested a lot of that substance and we fear that she will fall into a state of coma.”

Those present only nodded, that situation made them sad, however, it gave them a little hope that Adda would come out of it.

...

A few months had passed, and everyone without exception visited Adda at least once. When her classmates heard the news, several went to visit her and left her gifts often, but the one who did not leave Adda for a single moment was Maddison. There were nights when she did not sleep, for fear that she would wake up and Adda would be gone, so she never let go of her hand.

For Maddison, those months were an ordeal, she cried every day and blamed herself for not getting there sooner. She even wondered what would have happened if she hadn't read his letter, and hadn't gone to Adda. She felt that the lights had changed since that day, she saw them as opaque and when she looked at them, even if it was only for a few seconds, she ended up crying inconsolably.

That day in particular was a strange day, Maddison felt energetic and happy, almost as if she had regained her old energy.

“You know, I feel happy today," she said to the girl who was lying peacefully on the stretcher. "It's as if something good were going to happen to me. Weird, don't you think?” A few seconds later, she noticed that Adda's pillow was out of place.

She got up from his chair and after taking Adda's hand, with his free hand she began to arrange the pillows trying to make them well distributed. After that, she carefully arranged his friend's red hair and kissed her forehead, sat down again and analyzed her food for a few seconds.

Nothing too appetizing.

In that instant, she felt a pressure in her hand, looked up from the food on the table at her and began to cry, but for the first time in months, with happiness.

Those heavenly irises welcomed her happiness, and Adda's confused face, a touch of joy.

“Maddie?”