#and there was another two kids walking backward with us 'looking at my hand sanitizer keychain' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wendimydarling · 5 years ago

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I’m Glad You’re Here

Title: I’m Glad You’re Here

Summary: In which Henry gets sick, and the reader takes care of him.

Pairing: Henry x First Person Reader

Word Count: 1447

Warnings: Only a slight innuendo, this one is mostly floof.

A/N: This one’s a bit shorter than my others, but I felt if I kept going it would have just repeated more of the same, and supposedly a good author knows when to quit. Hope you enjoy some floofy, slightly angsty fluff! ALL THE FEELS!!!

Tags: @littlefreya @sciapod @thiccgeralt @oddsnendsfanfics @brexrif

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There was a strange sense of silence hanging over the house when I walked in. This was odd, because Kal typically took his guard dog duties very seriously. Henry must be feeling worse than he let on if Kal wasn’t going to alert me to his presence. I kicked off my shoes and climbed the stairs to the master level, toting the bag of goodies I’d bought after I landed.

Sure enough, there was Kal, pressed as close as he could get to Henry without squashing him, his head lying on Henry’s stomach as Henry slept. Henry looked absolutely miserable. His mouth was hanging open and he was snoring a bit; sweat-dampened curls clung to his forehead. Kal pricked his ears up and turned his head slightly when I entered, acknowledging my presence with only a whimper. I sat on the bed carefully, not wanting to disturb Henry’s slumber, and offered some hushed words of encouragement to Kal as I rubbed his head.

“Such a good boy, Bear, he’s gonna be okay. Have you been taking care of him for me while I wasn’t here?”

Kal just looked at me and whimpered again, placing his paw on Henry. His behaviour wasn’t sitting well with me, so I moved up to sit next to Henry, placing my hand on his head.

“Jeeeeeeeeesus,” I hissed, the heat of his skin searing into my palm. “Okay Henry up, wake up. Wake up now.”

I shook him slightly and he groaned and coughed, but didn’t open his eyes. It was enough for me to know he was conscious, and I sprang into action. Rushing into the bathroom, I turned the water on in the tub as cold as it could go, rummaging in the cabinet for some Tylenol and a thermometer as the tub started to fill. I called Henry’s manager while I searched and left a message for her to either book him an emergent appointment with his doctor or else I was going to take him in to the nearest hospital I could find. I couldn’t find a thermometer but I did find Tylenol, so I ran downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of water, rushing back up to turn off the water before shaking Henry again.

“Henry up, I mean it, you need to take this. Come on, love, at least show me your eyes.”

Henry moaned again but his eyes fluttered open, confusion clear in his expression when he saw me.

“Why… what? You’re... Why--why are you here? I’m glad you’re here, but I’m fine.”

“Bullshit, sir, you have a fever higher than I’ve felt on anyone in my life. Get up and take this; you’re getting in the tub.”

Henry balked, hacking up a furball before shoving his face into the pillow.

“I’m fine, really, just let me sleep.”

I rolled my eyes, pulling on his arm as hard as I could. God, the man was heavy.

“Henry, look at your dog.”

Henry rolled back over and side-eyed Kal, who was still being eerily calm. His face scrunched up in concern and he sat up when he recognized the odd behavior. A coughing spell took over him and he wheezed, turning his head to try and keep the germs off of me. He coughed so hard that he gagged, and I scanned the room rapidly as I rubbed his back, trying to find something he could throw up in if needed. The spell passed and Henry sat there, gasping for air. I took the opportunity to peel the soaked cotton fabric off of his torso. His skin was thin, and I could see the muscles in his chest straining to offer his lungs enough support to breathe. Henry pet Kal on the head in reassurance, as the dog had moved closer and tucked his head into Henry’s crotch.

“He’s signalling, Henry, like he’s been trained to... You’re sicker than you think, and we need to get your fever down, ASAP. Will you please get in the tub?”

Henry blinked slowly, groggily, nodding minutely as he tried to kick the covers off his legs. He was so weak, and that terrified me. I helped him up, shuffling him in front of me into the bathroom. Kal followed us, pressing his body against Henry’s legs. I shooed him gently.

“Good boy, Kal, good boy… You did your job; you did good. Go lay down while I help daddy now, okay?”

Kal huffed at me, but took a spot next to the toilet, lying down on the cold tile. The look on his face told me I was one more scolding away from being his least favorite person. I turned to Henry, who was leaning on the counter with his eyes closed. Gently shimmying the rest of his drenched garments from his body, I cocked my eyebrow at him, smirking a little as his dick hardened a bit.

“You have got to be kidding me… now?”

“You just took my clothes off and you’re on your knees, I can’t help it,” he gasped, his chuckle turning into another cough. I shook my head and stood up, shushing him as I eased him into the tub. He yelped when he first stepped into the cold water, pushing against me in an attempt to get out. I held firm, discovering just how little I liked the feeling of being able to overpower him. It felt backwards.

Once Henry was seated, medicated, and semi-comfortable, I sat on the edge of the tub. I took a washcloth and soaked it in the water, using it to wash the sweat off his chest, shoulders and back, and to sooth his hot skin. He grabbed my hand and kissed it, closing his eyes and leaning back against the wall of the tub. I took a mental inventory of his body as he rested, cataloging his symptoms so that I could answer any questions the doctor had later. Henry tilted his head, opening one eye to look at me.

“I’m glad you're here.”

“I am too, Henry. Shhhh.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three hours and one Influenza B diagnosis later, we were back at the house. Henry was somehow sprawled on his tiny couch with his head on a pillow in my lap, wrapped up in his hoodie and shivering under the comforter I had brought downstairs from his bed. Kal was sleeping on his legs, refusing to leave Henry’s side.

Seeing as though there was nothing we could do but wait it out, I had an entire arsenal of symptom-treaters dispersed throughout the house. On the coffee table were the tv remotes, his favorite water, some crackers, and a few of his comic books. In the kitchen I had stocked him with some herbal tea, different flavored applesauce pouches, oranges, and organic whole-grain bread if he wanted some toast. In the bathroom I had a neti pot and some cough drops. His nightstand housed a chest rub and more cough drops. Every room in the house had a box of tissues and a bottle of hand sanitizer strategically located. Yes, I was prepared.

I’d flipped on a show but we were only half-watching; Henry was fading in and out of sleep and I was too busy monitoring him to pay attention to the television. He turned his body towards the back of the couch and I adjusted the blanket around him as he snuggled in closer to me. I ran my fingers through his curls and he sighed, so I switched to using my fingernails, to which he gave the most undignified moan and pushed his head further into my hands.

“You are such a dog,” I laughed, using both hands now to scratch his scalp vigorously.

“Ugh, I don’t even care, that feels so good,” he stated, sniffing. I smiled to myself; his voice was so cute when he had the snuffles. Henry looked up at me and pursed his lips, asking for a kiss. I obliged by putting two fingers to my lips, placing them gently on his, then immediately reaching for the hand sanitizer.

“How dare you wipe off my kisses?” he teased, scoffing at me in mock offense. Henry poked my side as I rubbed the evaporating alcohol between my hands and I squirmed, far too easily stopping him when I caught his hand. He laced our fingers and tilted his face toward me, looking up at me through half moon slits as his eyes were preparing to claim him in sleep once more.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered, low and sincere. I leaned over and kissed his forehead to conceal my attempt at checking his fever.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else, babe.”

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vintage-brass-tc · 4 years ago

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4/10/2021

(( Brace yourselves for a long post. 👁 ))

I’m not sure if I gave any more context of this event either, but, last week, I and around 1-2 people from each section were invited by the directors to go help out with something in preparation for next year.

To summarize it briefly, the incoming band students would be trying out some instruments today. Due to COVID restrictions, they couldn’t play the instrument (much) and actually try it out like the usual process. The older band kids given the option to volunteer were going to be the lead examples of what an instrument sounds like.

This means they’d play for people who were interested in hearing them/trying out our instrument. In addition, we also helped make sure the crowd was settled in nicely when we weren’t occupied with said playing.

Of course, I agreed to come right away. Who would turn down a chance to hang out around their TC (ahem, and the band 😳) for a little while?

People could choose to be there for around half of the event— three hours and thirty minutes, give or take— or remain there throughout the full seven-hour duration of work.

I think you know what I’m going to say now, right? Yeah. I chose to stay and pitch in for the whole time. Needless to say, I’m pretty worn out from it all.

(Believe it or not, I practically passed out right after I wrote the previous sentence. Haha, whoops. Hello from the next day!)

Anywho, with all of the background information out of the way, let’s move on to the actual event!!

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I arrived pretty early and assisted the band directors with their setup in the school’s cafeteria. W and I didn’t talk or make eye contact very much, but that was because we were scrambling to get things like the instruments, hand sanitizer stations, music stands, etcetera prepared.

I noticed that M’s wife and daughter, who’s in my band, were here to help all day as well. It was nice to coexist and talk a little with those who M loves and adores.

From what I remember, the first time W spoke within earshot of me was when everyone was given the incentive to warm up on their instruments in the band hall.

He made a stupid joke that I don’t quite remember, but I and some others found it pretty funny. As always, he never failed to lift the room’s spirits, or at the very least my own. If what he said wasn’t enough to keep me going, the smile on his face before he left was adorable as well.

Fast forward to some time later, when I was mingling with other band kids. I thought it’d be fun to join in the frenzy of various pieces being played simultaneously, but I didn’t want to move away from the group to sit down. I thought it would be pretty awkward.

After being sure I wasn’t going to cause any major damage to myself or my instrument, I challenged myself to attempt playing some music on my concert tuba while standing up. I didn’t do this often, so I thought it’d be a fun time to try.

Why am I bringing this up? Well, just as I lifted the tuba upwards, I noticed something in the eastern corner of my gaze; A pair of eyes I knew all too well were already placed on me before I had even begun getting set. My gaze flickered in the observer’s direction for less than a second.

To my surprise, since nobody was talking to him, W decided to focus on me. He was leaning forward on the table he was sat at, with his chin cupped comfortably by his right hand. He watched me with pure curiosity and interest.

I did my best not to look at him outside of my peripheral vision after that to avoid potentially interrupting his thoughts. I also didn’t want to mess up whatever music I had out either since he was listening in on it.

He observed me with this same look on his face until he shot up in his seat and looked forward. I assume there was a person who was approaching him.

Can’t help but wonder why he decided to look at me...and how long he would have been tuning into my mediocre tuba skills if someone hadn’t walked over.

A student was interested in hearing me play the tuba, so I did just that. I believe I played around 6-8 measures of my solo. Despite some minor blips due to a sticking valve, I guess I did pretty decent.

I smiled sheepishly and set my tuba down after my mini performance. A subtle applause rose from the kid’s family, accompanied by a louder clapping to the right of me, which I didn’t quite acknowledge until a voice spoke up.

“Thanks Dad!!” W spoke in a slightly condescending tone while grinning from ear to ear. The sound of his loud voice startled me and I zipped my head over to him. “Wha(ha)t?” I spoke in between some surprised chuckles.

“Your Dad’s clapping...like—” He mimicked a very enthusiastic and very expressive clap for a moment before slapping his knees, leaning forward, and letting out one of his signature loud, giggly laughs. I looked at my father and we laughed along with W for a few seconds more.

After writing this, I’m just now realizing that W must have been paying pretty good attention to me and the situation I was in. I would have never noticed this if he hadn’t spoke up. Wow, haha, that’s pretty cool! (My father decided a volunteer here for a little while in case some people were curious. ^^)

Not as much people wanted to hear the tuba as I thought, so I had some free time on my hands. We were told that we could no longer play out of turn since we were being too loud, so I decided to try to talk to W a little bit while I still could. I watched as he wished the last person currently in line a good day, then I began to walk over to him. As I made my way closer, he lifted his head pretty quickly, and his concentration locked on me. Judging by his serious expression, he may have thought I had an important question to ask him. That threw me off a little bit, and I got nervous.

“What’s up?” He asked.

“Uh,” I started, “How‘s the thing going?” By ‘the thing’, I was referring to his job of checking people out of the school. I internally facepalmed at my phrasing.

“Good!” He turned to his computer and hesitated. “Actually, I have a favor to ask you..” I watched as he slouched down a little bit on the desk before popping back up to look at me.

W asked me if I could go ahead and get the directors’ lunch out before the kids got theirs, just in case it all ran out quickly. He then counted the directors for me and forgot to include himself, which we laughed together at after I pointed it out. I went to go grab the packages after the conversation ended.

The whole way to the band hall, where everything was located, I swam through my thoughts. I was grateful that he thought I was good enough to be trusted with keeping track of who got what, food-wise. I’m glad I could help him with that.

After a bit of explaining to some of the students why I was handling the food before lunch and taking multiple portions of it, I was off and giving everything out to the directors. M’s wife already went to get her own food somehow, and she seemed a little bit agitated when I asked if she already got her stuff.

I mean, I’d be pretty mad if someone interrupting my blissful munching moments too, so no shame there. I wonder if M messes with her while she eats sometimes. It seems like something he may do when he’s bored. Haha.

Anyway, I approached W with his stuff, but he was talking to someone, so I slowly came to a stop and just....stood there. Luckily, the guy mentioned I had W’s food, so he looked over. “Thanks R,” he smiled. “Is that all?” He looked at what remained in the bag. “Yep.” I told him that M’s wife had already gotten her stuff beforehand, and he nodded.

After I handed the items to him, he thanked me again. I acknowledged his thanks with a smile before letting him continue talking. A few minutes later, he began to eat.

Can I just point out that the way he eats is so...amusing? It’s like he pays no attention to those around him, instead focusing on engulfing the food in front of him with huge bites at a time. He leaves a mess too while doing this sometimes.

While he’s nomming the stuff down, he uses that time to scan the room with curious eyes. I assume it’s to see if anyone was looking at his Jurassic munching techniques.

Call me weird, but it was all so cute in a way. I had a very tough time directing my eyes off of him at first, but I forced myself to. He was looking near my direction anyway, and I didn’t want him to be like ‘??? R, why are you watching me eat?’. 😳 so yeah

About an hour or so after this lunch incident, I was talking to M’s daughter and someone else. We were chatting casually about something related to our instruments. I just started getting into the conversation when I heard a loud voice call out my name.

“R.” W called from behind me. I perked up, shocked, and stopped talking as soon as his voice rang in my ears. The two people I was speaking to looked in his direction and I followed suit with their action, twisting my body backwards as quick as possible. “Come here.”

He stood there very still, facing me with a serious expression, and I was quite intimidated by this. There was nobody inside a 7-foot radius of him, which further intensified the situation for me. Within another heartbeat, butterflies were swirling in my stomach. I turned back to the two girls and apologized before walking over to see what was up.

I stopped just shy of an arm’s length away from him and met his strong gaze with a face that silently urged him to go on. “I’m going to go to the restroom,” he told me, dipping his upper torso and head down to make his look appear more firm. I responded by lifting my chin up and looking down at him with the same amount of seriousness.

“I need you to stay here and watch. If anyone comes, tell them to wait for me, okay?” He had a hint of a pleading tone in his voice that I couldn’t ignore. “Got it.” I told him. “Sorry!!” He exclaimed in a high-pitched whisper to me as he ran off to the other room. “Not a problem!” I yelled back.

I watched him dash out of the cafeteria doors and halt to a walking pace while he exchanged a couple words with the check-in volunteers. I stopped watching him when he began to walk towards the males’ bathroom again.

I was, again, honored that W trusted me enough to handle something like that. Even if it was a small task like the one he asked from me earlier on, he could have had anyone else do it, but he decided I was reliable enough to. I thought that was pretty cool.

Anyway, I stood there for a bit and noticed a phone faced down on the table. I assumed immediately that it was his, and I observed its beautiful casing. It was decorated with a light gray and white array of lines that sort of gave me a forest vibe.

I never expected something as toned down and serene as this was from him, especially with his crazy energetic attitude I know him from, but it was a very nice sight. I didn’t stare at his phone any further in case anyone thought I was going to snoop or something weird like that.

A family came up and I told them that W would be back in a bit. We chatted for a little while about some band-related stuff until W speed-walked back in. I ended our conversation abruptly before looking at him.

“Thank you so much for your help, R.” He told me sincerely while I stepped out of his way. I didn’t pay attention in the moment to how close we were, but it was definitely very close, somehow still barely avoiding contact. “Sure!” I beamed joyously as my gaze lingered.

“Your phone was going off for twenty minutes,” he told me before he sat back down in his chair. My face widened. “I was??” I paused. “I mean, it was??” He didn’t respond to my slightly panicking tone. Instead, he sat still where he was silently, staring at the person I was just talking to.

“Sorry,” I lightly apologized before heading back to where I had my stuff set up. I checked my notifications didn’t see anything new, so I was pretty confused. Maybe he was trying to get me to go away or something, hence the effort on his face to not respond. 😳

The last thing here was just me wishing him a good weekend, and him saying “thank you for helping“, with me thanking him back afterwards.

Overall, this day was great. My arms are so sore from hauling the extra instrument cases around(the tuba cases for newcomers are unbelievably heavier than my current one), but the moments I shared with W and the band made it so worth it. ^^

Hope everyone’s having a great weekend and staying safe.

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strangeradventuresofp · 4 years ago

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emotions (klaus x reader)

Extra Ordinary - 3

warnings : swearing

word count : 4299

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

On the 12th hour of the first day of October, 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible.

He got eight of them.

~~~

“What the hell is that?” The eyes of your brother darted up to his doorway, looking at you before looking back down to the gash in his arm that he was sewing up. “You should’ve asked me. Did you sanitize that stuff?” He gave you an annoyed look and you sighed, letting your crossed arms fall back down to your sides. “I’m sorry. I just get worried about you, you know?”

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“But I do. You’re my brother, 58 years old or not.”

“You didn’t go home last night?” You shook your head at his question, debating whether to tell him the truth on why you didn’t. Five would catch out a lie in a heartbeat, so there was no point in trying to keep it from him.

“I stayed to make sure that when Klaus woke up, he wouldn’t do anything stupid. But I woke up, checked his room and he was gone.” You sighed, watching him pick up the duffel bag and walk to his window. After opening it and grabbing the bad in his hand, he turned back to look at you.

“Are you coming?” In an instant you joined him by the window, hopping out of it and onto the fire escape just after he did, looking over the railing to see another one of your brothers at the bottom, rustling around in the garbage.

“I’m trying to find whatever priceless crap was in that priceless box, so Pogo will get off my ass!” Aggravation on his tongue, Klaus continued to kick and throw bits of rubbish out of his way so he could continue looking just as you and Five hopped down off the ladder that lead the two of you to the ground.

“I knew you took it.”

“Huh? Oh, Y/N, what a pleasant surprise! What on earth on you talking about, dear?” Rolling your eyes, you watched in confusion as he looked above himself and angrily muttered something under his breath. You looked at Five, who seemed equally as confused as you but honestly couldn’t care about what was going on.

“Hey, you know there’s easier ways out of the house?” Klaus laughed, rearranging the purple scarf around his neck, pulling out a flask from somewhere that wasn’t visible to you.

“This one involved the least amount of talking, or so I thought.” You followed your brother as he began to walk away, unsure of where you were going. He adjusted the straps on the duffel bag hanging over his shoulders as Klaus let out a series of ‘Hey’s in an attempt to get your attention.

“You need any more company today? I could uh… Clear my schedule.” He took a sip from his flask, a small, hopeful smirk hiding behind it.

“You seem pretty busy.” Smiling sarcastically, he took a sharp breath before exhaling, waving off what you said with his hand.

“Oh, this? No, no, I can do this whenever. I’m just—“ In a split second, Klaus fell backwards into the bin, numerous items clattering and clanging about from within as he continued to speak, standing back up with a half-eaten doughnut in his hand. “Found it!”

“Please, do not eat that.” You grimaced as he took a bite, smirking slightly at first but slowly turning into a face of disgust as he tried to play it off, letting out an incredibly fake ‘Delicious!’. Quite quickly after that, you and Five decided to make your way to the plumbing van, Klaus winking at you while you walked away, feeling a stir in your heart that you were angry at. As you sat in the passenger seat, he placed the bag extremely gently in the back before wrapping his hands around the wheel. While the tires squealed on the road, you finally decided to ask what had been on your mind since the night before. “What’s in the duffel bag?” Your brother let out a deep exhale and began to speak, more shy than usual.

“You know I said I wasn’t alone during the apocalypse? Well, that’s Delores.” Five kept his eyes on the road as your jaw fell open, looking at the bag and then back at your brother.

“So, what? Is she like dead or…?”

“Of course not!”

“So, why is she in a duffel bag?” The noise of the handbrake made you look back out of the window, eyeing the letters on the building in front of you that read ‘Meritech’. Leaning closer to the windshield, you squinted at a walking figure holding cups of coffee, the man looking like Lance from the day previous. “That’s our guy, right?” You had been focusing so hard on identifying him that you hadn’t noticed your brother pulling a mannequin out of the bag that he had rested down in the back and mumbling to himself.

“No, I’m not drunk, I’m working. Yes, it’s about the eye thing. This is the place it was made. Or, will be made. We just have to wait.”

“Hi, Delores. I’m Y/N. It’s really nice to meet you.” You smiled awkwardly at her frozen face, looking back at Five to return the genuine smile he shot to you. Your brother had been through a lot, and this was the only thing to have kept him sane throughout the apocalypse. In a weird way, you were glad he had Delores, but it didn’t stop you feeling strange when you spoke to her and she didn’t respond or maybe, you were supposed to pretend that she did. You really had no idea but still, you had no right to judge him. You had no idea about everything he did to get back to you all.

You had been watching Five roll the eye around between his fingers for what seemed like only minutes but when you finally snapped out of whatever trance you were in, you checked the clock, noticing only now that hours had gone by since you had first parked up there. Stretching, yawning, continuing to look out of the window, unsure of exactly what you were looking or waiting for.

Your brows furrowed as you began to notice the rate of your brother’s breathing rapidly increasing. His grip on the eye got tighter and tighter, you thought it might smash. A look of pure panic and terror crossed his face in a second and droplets sweat began to form on his temples, sticking his hair to them. It came as a sudden realisation to you that he was so zoned out that he was probably having very vivid flashbacks on the apocalypse. As your frown intensified, you called his name numerous times, him only seeming to come back to reality when you placed your hand on his shoulder gently. He seemed to gasp for air and he looked at you.

“It’s okay, see? We’re just outside the Meritch building, okay? You’re not there anymore, Five.” He nodded at you and you rubbed his shoulder once before turning around looking out of your window. You jumped at what you saw, opening your door with one hand while holding your chest with the other. Immediately, you began to move, unclipping your seatbelt and shimmying out of the seat. Moving to the back, you kneeled between the front seats, resting your elbows on each of them, waiting patiently for Luther to get into the car properly. You giggled as the car shook from side to side and various grunts came from his mouth. After a few minutes, he shut the car door, panting, shifting once more to ensure he was comfortably inside and he looked at the boy behind the wheel.

“You okay?” He asked and you watched the confusion grow on the boy’s face as he started to reply.

“You shouldn’t—how did you find us?” At Five’s request, Luther gestured to the back of the car and you frowned.

“Wha--? Me? I didn’t tell you anything.” Luther shook his head, gesturing behind you and you turned to see Klaus, dancing with Delores, humming a random tune. Just as you turned to look at him, an offended expression slapped itself across his face and he sighed, lowering Delores the smallest bit before he pretended to feel timid.

“Hey, a little privacy, guys. We’re really hitting it off back here.” He giggled before ducking as best as he could, trying to dodge an object that had been thrown at him from one of the front seats.

“Get out! You can’t be here! We’re in the middle of something.” As the three of you rotated to face the windshield, Klaus came up beside you, nudging you out of the way gently. When you tried to move over, your hand brushed against his and you gasped slightly, pulling it away quickly as if it had hurt. Even brief touches of his skin on yours make you feel like you’re being shocked with a high voltage. A lopsided grin found its way to his mouth and you rolled your eyes, looking forward again as Five and Luther began to speak amongst themselves.

”So, Grace may have had something to do with Dad’s death.”

“What? You’re kidding, right, our Mom?” With brows knitted together, you looked towards Luther, who looked at you with complete sincerity. “But that’s not—she can’t have. She’s programmed to be a protector.”

“Maybe her software has a virus.” Klaus joked, probably in trying to make the mood lighter but your face didn’t falter.

“I need you two to come back to the academy, all right? It’s important.”

“You have no concept of what’s important.” The boy spat, earning a very dissatisfied look from the one opposite him. Your face fell into one of complete perplexity. Your Mother had been designed especially by your Father to be a protector, to clean up after you, to get you ready for missions, to put you to bed, to make you cookies when you were sad. How was it possible that she could have partook in his death?

“What? Okay, fine, whatever.” Watching as Klaus slid the door across and stepped out of the van, his eyes pleading with yours, you rolled your eyes and moved towards the door, giving Five an apologetic smile.

“Let me know what you find out.” Were the last words you said before you closed the car door, standing next to Klaus, folding your arms over your chest. He winced at the scowl that fell over your features.

“What?” He held his hands up in defence and you rolled your eyes playfully, beginning to walk with him.

“Chocolate pudding, are you serious?”

“Oh, yeah. It hurt so bad but it smelled delicious afterward.”

“That’s disgusting.” His eyes lit up when you laughed and he smiled. “Oh, can we go in here? I wanted to grab something to eat.” Pointing to a convenience store, the two of you made your way towards it. Upon walking inside, your eyes quickly darted around, trying to take in all the options of food and figure out what you wanted. Humming, you picked up two bags of chips and pack of pre-made waffles and some other little things. You made your way to the checkout with Klaus and dug through your pockets to find the right amount that you owed, but it was obvious you didn’t have enough for everything. While the checkout man watched you, Klaus swooped everything up into his arms, running straight for the door, looking about frantically for where he would go next once he was outside. Your eyes widened, running after him, yelling for him to stop.

“Hey, bitches!”

“Klaus, stop!” You winced as he ran into a city taxi, yelling something about them being in the way. Once you had caught up to him, you panted at him and he giggled. “What the hell was that for?”

“You didn’t have enough money.” You rolled your eyes at him, giving the owner that had chased him the correct amount of money for what he had taken, after finally being able to find a bill crumpled up in your jacket. “I’m really sor--” You sighed as they snatched your money from you, storming off before even being able to finish your apology. Groaning, you grabbed his wrist, pulling him with you as you started to walk back home.

~~~

“I mean, do you really think Mom would hurt Dad?” Vanya questioned. Confusion poked at every inch on your body as you watched the tape, unsure of what to truly think. Maybe your Moms programming had been tampered with, but the only person who knew how to wire her was Dad, so why would he deliberately make her do something like this?

“If he was poisoned, it would’ve shown in the coroner’s report.” Diego pointed out, a good point actually, and Luther looked annoyed.

“Yeah, exactly. I think you’re reading way too far into this. I mean, Mom killing Dad, are you even listening to yourself?” Luther was quick to roll his eyes at your words and he huffed, turning to Diego.

“I don’t need a report to tell me what I can see with my own eyes.” Diego rolled his eyes as Luther continued to make excuses. You looked back at Allison and Vanya, to see what they made of the tape, but they said nothing.

“You cannot be serious.” Shaking your head, you completely denied anything that could have suggested your Mother had taken part in Reginald’s death. It made no sense to you at all. Grazing your eyes over the screen, you frowned, narrowing your eyes.

“Y/N? What is it?”

“Look, he… He had his monocle, see, there,” you pointed. “And then when she stands up, it’s gone. She was taking it, but for what?”

“No, I’ve searched the house, including all her things. She doesn’t have it.” You and Number One shared a very puzzled look before turning to your other siblings. Your eyes rested on Diego, whose mouth opened as if he wanted to speak and then closed again, but opened seconds later.

“That’s because I took it from her, after the funeral.”

“You’ve had the monocle the whole time? What the hell, Diego?” Allison suddenly piped up and Klaus made his way to the bar, casually pouring himself a drink.

“Not cool.” You looked away from Diego in annoyance, turning to Klaus who silently offered to pour you a drink and you smiled slightly but refused, turning back in anger as he spoke.

“I threw it away. I knew if you found it on Mom, you’d lose your shit, just like you’re doing right now.” He pointed the knife he held in his hands at the bigger boy who stood opposite him and sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose when luckily, Vanya decided to try to calm them down.

“Mom was designed to be a caretaker, but also a protector. She was programmed to intervene if someone’s life was in jeopardy.” You nodded at your sister’s words.

“Well, if her hardware is degrading, then… We need to turn her off.”

“Shut up.” You gritted your teeth, anger beginning to build up inside of you as your clenched your fists.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait. She’s not just a vacuum cleaner you can throw in a closet. She feels things, I’ve seen it!” Diego’s knife never left Luther’s direction and you felt a hand on your shoulder as the others continued to argue, smiling appreciatively at Vanya who the hand belonged to. “She shouldn’t get a vote.”

“Diego, that’s not fair.” You warned, shooting him a glare.

“I was gonna say that I agree with you.” A small voice came from the girl beside you and you nodded at her words once again.

“Okay, she should get a vote.” Your siblings turned to you. “Y/N?”

“I agree with Diego, she’s our Mother.” You folded your arms over your chest and everyone seemed to turn to Klaus – he could make a tie.

“What about you, stoner boy? What do you got?”

“Oh, so, what? You need my help now? Oh, ‘get out of the van, Klaus! Well welcome back to the van!’”

“What van?”

“Never mind, come on, Klaus. What’s it gonna be?” Shrugging off Allison’s question, Klaus’ eyes darted around the room quickly and he shifted.

“I’m with Diego, because screw you! And if Ben were here, he’d agree with me.” He mumbled something angry under his breath after finishing his sentence, as if Ben was stood beside him and had disagreed with him and you chuckled quietly. Everyone seemed to leave the room apart from you and Diego, who looked wounded and you offered a gentle hand on his arm for consolation. Vanya stuck behind too, and you all turned to see your Mother stood under one of the archways that led from the lobby to the living room. As you made your way over to her, Diego asked her something which you didn’t exactly hear, his voice was too quiet. Your Mother’s eyes seemed delayed as she looked up to him, looking between the three of you as you stood in front of her.

“You all seem upset. I’ll make cookies.” She strolled off, almost too smoothly. A look of alarm passed between the three of you before you sighed in frustration, your feet leading you up the stairs and into your old bedroom.

~~~

“I need to finish this cross-stitch.” After hearing your Mother’s voice, you decided not to turn the corner, knowing someone else was there, who had probably come to check on your Mom, the same as you. You swallowed, hoping you could stay hidden to hear what she would say.

“Everything you did for us when we were kids… for me… Why’d you do it?” The deep voice was thick with hurt and you were sure it belonged to Number Two. Your Mother had helped Diego with his stutter when you were younger, and you assumed that was what he was referring to, but you couldn’t be sure.

“Because being your Mother is the greatest gift of my life.”

“Is that you saying that?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Diego.”

“I mean, our father, he… He made you. When you think something, is it like he’s telling you what to say?” You rolled your eyes at his stupidity immediately, but your eyes twitched as you realised that it actually made sense. You jumped as you heard his voice harden and quickly moved around the corner to see him grabbing your Mother by her shoulders, pleading with her quietly. Her eyes turned to focus on a painting on a woman and you frowned, listening to her.

“Diego. Come on.” Grabbing the cloth that covered his shoulder, you dragged him into the corridor that you were previously stood in. “What the hell were you doing?”

“It started to make sense. What Luther said. You know, what if she got angry at the way he was treating her and killed him?”

“Diego, she’s a machine. She can’t feel anything.” Regret smothered your face as you watched his fall, chasing his gaze as he walked away. “No, wait, Diego. I’m sorry!” You groaned, kicking the wall, resting your head in your hands, sighing. Sitting down, with your back against the wall, knees pulled up to your chest, you wondered about Five. Where was he? Was he okay? Did he need your help? No, Five can handle pretty much anything on his own.

Gunfire. Your eyes widened, standing up instantly, running through the corridors in an attempt to find your siblings to see if they were okay. Shit. Vanya was still here.

“Vanya! Diego!” As you turned a corner, Diego grabbed your wrist, taking off with you back where you had come from, tossing a few knifes behind him and you hoped they hit. Your shoes skid off the polished floor and you tripped, but Diego carried on running with you, helping you up and continuing to move in a matter of seconds. You were breathless and your chest burnt with adrenaline but you didn’t stop. He pushed you further ahead of him and stopped, hiding behind a wall. Panting, you looked at him and he waved you on so you ran. After hearing grunts from your brother and various clangs of metal, the gunshots got closer and closer. Then they stopped.

You looked over the balustrade into the living room and watched Diego in pure panic, panting as he looked at you, his face riddled with distress. He shifted and the gunshots started all over again, firing right at Diego who hid himself behind the couch. You shrieked, tapping into your anger and quite quickly, all you could see was red. You felt yourself swing over the balcony, managing to kick a gun out of one of their hands, jumping up to kick the other in the chest and backwards. As one flew into the door, you kicked the other’s back, causing them to fall flat on their face while reaching for their gun. As you began to see again, you ran around to the couch, grabbing your brother’s arm and pulling him along with you, unsure of where you were going, just knowing that it was away from the gunmen in your living room. Suddenly more shots were fired your way and you whimpered as Diego pulled you back down to behind the sofa, shielding your body with his as you held onto him for dear life.

After a few seconds, a roar came from the entrance to the living room and the gunfire stopped. You heard what sounded like a body hitting the floor and yells from your sister as she hit one of the intruders. You gasped as you heard her choking; growling as you ran over, hitting him as much as you could with Diego’s help. Quickly, you stepped back as Luther grabbed him and threw him into the lobby with the other.

“Thank you!” You hugged Luther briefly before pulling away, panting as you listened to them, rolling your eyes as they tried to argue, letting out a squeal when the gunfire started back up, ducking whilst you ran, following Luther, hiding around a corner. You swallowed hard, eyes widening as you looked up to Luther, hearing Vanya’s voice. Tears welled up in your eyes as she walked into the room, and you ran out to help her, Luther right behind you. The intruder focused himself on Luther and you rushed to hide Vanya somewhere.

“Just stay out of sight, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” You fumbled around in your pockets, quickly pulling out one of Diego’s knives that you had taken from him when you were behind the couch. “Here, uh, take this, just in case.” Just as you shoved it into her hands, you heard gunshots once again coming from below you and the sound of bodies being thrown about in the lobby. You walked around to the lobby, gulping when Luther called out your name. Soon, there was a yell and a large thump and you winced, calling out his name after a few minutes, walking back into the lobby as well as Allison and Diego. Practically throwing yourself at Diego, you hugged him tightly, happy nothing bad had happened to him whilst Allison helped Luther up off the ground. All at once, he was pushing you all away from him, the chandelier was falling and you and Allison were screaming his name. Slowly, he stood up, throwing the chandelier off of him, without his coat, revealing a large and incredibly hairy torso which he seemed embarrassed about. When he noticed, his eyes fell on Allison before he rushed off, attempting to cover himself up.

Swallowing in relief, another wave of anxiety hit you when you heard your Mother humming from upstairs. Your worried eyes locked with Diego’s and you both made your way up the stairs, fast. As you neared her, you stared in horror at her hand, the needle going through and through, pulling the thread along with it as Diego spoke to her. Tears pooled in your eyes as they trailed down to her arm, that Diego was busy cutting open.

“Diego, what are you doing?” The words you spoke passed through gritted teeth and tears fell down your face when he cut the wires inside of her arm. “Diego.”

“It’s gonna... be o—okay, mm-om.” Her eyes fell closed as your brother stood up and you shook his shoulders furiously, crying, thumping on his chest before he grabbed your wrists and placed them back to your sides. Tears welled in his eyes as you let out a few sobs before gasping, almost choking on all of the air that entered your mouth.

“Shit!”

Your feet thundered on the carpet and the floor boards as you searched through the entire house, even more tears starting to fall down your cheeks after you couldn’t find what you were looking for. Your sobs resonated throughout the halls, the raggedy breathing hurting your lungs, falling to your knees. Diego frowned, walking up to you, kneeling beside you, looking at you to tell him what was wrong. His heart ached for you when your broken eyes met his and you sniffled, taking a sharp breath.

“They took Klaus. He’s not here.”

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#The Umbrella Academy #tua #the umbrella academy season 2 #tua s2 #tua season two #the umbrella academy x reader #klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves x reader #tua s2 spoilers #klaus x reader #tua season 2 #reader insert #x reader

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 5 years ago

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Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 1: Please Don’t Go, Girl •

- 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗘 𝟭𝟵𝟴𝟵 -

The final bell at Derry High School rang, doors flung open and a mix of disorderly students had spilled out into the halls like sheep. Books were being hurled into the trash, lockers emptied out, papers were strewn all over - summer had officially commenced. Swept up among the madness is Bill Denbrough, Richie Tozier, Stan Uris, and Eddie Kaspbrak.

Eddie was abnormally small for his age, his inhaler holstered in his medicine-filled fanny pack to his left, Stan. A tall boy with curly blonde hair and wore a kippah, next to him was Bill, a young gangly boy with a stutter. And Richie Tozier, who wore glasses and was notorious for being a trash mouth. He was Eddie's best friend.

In that same moment, one floor down, Y/n L/n flooded into the hallway with her classmates, exhaling in relief. She scanned the hallways and glazed over the many figures of the crowd hoping to catch sight of a familiar head of fiery red hair that belonged to her best friend. Beverly had excused herself near the end of class for a smoke in the girl’s bathroom, naturally, that was where she was headed to find her friend.

Y/n weaved her way through the hallway stuffed with people, walking on her toes hoping to get a better look above the mass of heads. She passed through the stairway, cringing at the sudden influx in volume caused by the echo from the rowdy students in the stairway. That's when she spotted Greta Bowie.

Y/n cursed under her breath as she saw the 13-year-old bully heading for the top of the stairs. She got a bad feeling in her stomach and she immediately knew where Greta was headed.

Beverly and Y/n were the bully's favorite victims, particularly Bev. And Y/n had an inkling Greta was looking for her Beverly too.

Y/n sprinted up the steps after her, the swarm of students blocking her way. Up ahead, she saw Greta reach the landing of the second floor and she shoved herself past one of Richie Tozier's friends, who turned to glare at her.

At that moment, two rambunctious boys who were racing down the stairs, and much too absorbed in their interaction hadn't seemed to realize they were obstructing her path. And blocking Greta out in the process.

She huffed. "Do you mind- Hey!"

Rather than stop, the two boys blew past her on either side, their shoulders crashing into hers as they sneered. Her heart leaped into her throat as she felt herself lose balance. She lost her footing and was sent tumbling backward down a few stairs and onto the landing, a few students slowing her fall. Luckily, she hadn't made it far up the stairs. Had she, and Y/n would have left the school in a wheelchair, or worse.

"Fuck!"

Laughter erupted around her and she lay there, the wind knocked out of her. The two boys never even acknowledged the damage they had caused and they were well on their way to the exit of the school. Figures.

"Hey, are y-y-you, o-okay?" Y/n peered up and saw four boys hurrying down the steps towards her.

One of the boys, Richie Tozier, she recognized. At Derry High School, it was almost impossible not to know about the trash mouth, but she also had a handful of classes with him. They had even been partnered up once at the beginning of the year.

Y/n had a hard time figuring out what he actually sounded like that day, he kept switching between so many different accents.

"I'm fine," She sat up abruptly, wincing and hissed in pain, clutching her elbow.

"You sure?" Asked the curly-haired boy, who was peeking his slightly over his friends. "That was some fall you took."

"You know toots, when people come barreling towards me, I usually get out of the way, but you know, that's just me." Said Richie, readjusting his glasses.

Y/n rolled her eyes, huffing. "Ever learn how to shut up, Tozier?"

"Nah, still trying to crack that one."

Eddie, who had been unusually quiet, hesitantly brought his hand out to her to help her up. She took it gratefully, forcing a smile, still wincing from her fall. And Y/n muttered a thanks.

The poor hypochondriac boy realized what he had done and quickly reached into his fanny pack, grabbing his pocket-sized hand sanitizer. He squeezed a small amount into his palm and quickly rubbed it into his hands frantically, though a small blush resided on his cheeks.

Y/n would have taken slight offense to the kid's actions but she was far too distracted by the fact that Greta had gotten away.

She was probably terrorizing Beverly right now, Y/n thought.

"Are you sure you're okay? That looked like a really bad fall." Stan asked.

Y/n forced another smile as she rotated her ankle wincing. "Yeah, I'm fine thanks. Look I rea-"

Eddie, whose voice finally caught up with his brain, began speaking rapidly, cutting her off unintentionally.

"You should take extra precaution with your ankle for a while. Did you know over one million stair related injuries occur every year, and people who have them, statistically speaking are more likely to experience another incident due to injury from the first fall?"

Y/n blinked a few times, still trying to catch up with his words. Richie and Stan smirked at one another and Bill looked between his friend and the baffled girl before him. Bill remembered how it was hearing Eddie speak for the first time. It took him a couple of weeks before he could hold a conversation with him without asking him to repeat himself.

"Uh, yeah, I think I heard that somewhere, thanks. I'll keep an eye on it. Uh, listen, thanks for the concern, and the help, but I really gotta go," Y/n said quickly, not as fast, but close to, Eddie's speed.

The unexpected response triggered a few raised eyebrows among the three boys, and a small smile formed on Eddie's face.

Y/n nodded and gestured to the top of the stairs behind them.

"Excuse me," She said, pushing her way through between Eddie and Stan.

Eddie and the rest of the boys turned and watched as she squeezed through the flood of students like a fish swimming upstream. Eventually, they saw her [b/t] figure disappear into the crowd at the top of the stairs.

Without his eyes leaving the spot through which she disappeared, Eddie spoke up.

"Hey, Richie, who was that?"

Richie looked between his best friend and the stairs.

"Y/n L/n. Why? You want to get in her pants?" He chuckled.

Eddie's face scrunched up and he shook his head feverishly, though it didn't stop Richie from noticing the pinkish hue creeping up on Eddie's cheeks and Richie suddenly regretted his joke.

"Aw, nothing to be ashamed of Eds. We're happy you're finally going after a woman that's not your mother!" Richie said, plastering on a smirk.

Eddie then launched into a lecture about the nickname and the four boys continued downstairs.

Meanwhile, at just past the top of the stairs Y/n approached the bathroom just as Greta and her posse were leaving. They were snickering and Greta met Y/n's eye and burst into laughter, her friends following suit.

"Oh, crap." Y/n took off into the bathroom.

"Beverly?"

Y/n didn't need to hear a response to figure out where her friend was. She winced when she saw the water pooling out from the far right stall. Mixed into it were various pieces of garbage that were floating amongst it.

"Beverly? It's me, come on open up," Y/n knocked softly on the stall, and she took a step back when it swung open.

There Beverly stood, her legs and the end of her dress soaked and dripping. Beverly looked at her best friend, a deadpan look on her face. She held her drenched backpack out away from herself, it swung slightly where the handle was hooked around her finger. There were wet napkins and paper towels that still clung to her backpack.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I tried going after her, but I... guess I fell short." Y/n chuckled weakly at her own joke, but quickly shook her head. "Never mind. Here, let's get you dried off."

×××

"Best feeling in the world,"

Stan emptied the contents of his backpack into the trashcan in the courtyard, his friends did the same.

Richie turned to his friend, putting his backpack back on.

"Yeah? Try tickling your pickle for the first time."

Eddie, who was used to ignoring the cheeky quips from Richie, turned to the others.

"Hey, what do you guys want to do tomorrow?"

Richie looked to Eddie, answering as if it was the most obvious thing in the universe.

"I start my training."

"Wait, what training?"

"Street Fighter."

"Is that how you wanna spend your summer? Inside of an arcade?"

Without missing a beat, Richie replied and shrugged.

"Beats spending it inside your mother," he turned to Stan, waiting for a high five.

Without a thought, Stan forced Richie's arm down, and the conversation continued.

"What if we go to the quarry?" He asked.

Bill leaned slightly on the trashcans as he replied.

"Guys, we have the b-b-ba-barrens,"

An awkward silence fell over them and Stan nodded in understanding. "Right."

At that moment, Eddie caught sight of a woman standing on the sidewalk, her eyes puffy from crying. They were accompanied by bags under them, and she waited with the police. She scanned the entryway, hoping to find a familiar face.

Eddie nodded. "Betty Ribosome's mom,"

The boys all turned to follow his eye.

"Is she really expecting to see her come out of that school?" Stan asked sadly.

"I don't know," Eddie muttered. "As if Betty Ripsome's been hiding in Home Ec. for the last few weeks."

"You think they'll actually find her?"

Richie answered immediately, with a slight scoff.

"Sure. In a ditch. All decomposed, covered in worms and maggots, smelling like Eddie's mom's underwear."

Eddie cringed and began sputtering. "Shut up! That's fricking disgusting."

"S-she’s not dead." Bill urged. "S-sh-she's just m-missing."

Richie adjusted his glasses nervously, and he felt a twinge of guilt knowing he hit a sore subject with his friend. Bill was still insistent that his own younger brother was still missing. After his little brother's disappearance months ago, still hoping he was out there somewhere.

"Sorry, Bill. She's missing."

Another silence fell over the four friends. They began walking away towards their bikes.

"You know, the Barrens aren't that bad," Richie began. "Who doesn't love splashing around in shitty water?"

Richie was stopped in his tracks, a hand had reached out and grabbed his backpack, and before he knew it he was thrown into Stan and the two boys fell in the grass.

Patrick Hockstetter kneeled over Stan. He wore a wicked grin and was waving his kippah in his face. "Nice frisbee, flamer."

Stan reached desperately for it, but Patrick kept it well out of his reach. "Give it back!"

He rose to his feet and tossed the kippah straight into an open window of a passing school bus. "Fucking losers!"

Eddie was too distracted to notice Belch Huggins creep up behind him. He burped into his face, causing him to gag profusely and Belch gave him a shove.

Henry Bowers, the leader of the little gang and the one who knocked over Stan and Richie, stormed passed the boys. Bill went red in the face with anger and he shouted after them.

"Y-y-you, s-s-s-suck, Bowers!"

"Shut up, Bill!" Richie warned.

But it was too late, Henry and his friends stopped in their tracks, turning around to face the stuttering boy.

"You suh-suh-suh-say something, buh-buh-buh-Billy?" He asked, feigning a stutter.

He stalked towards him, towering over him menacingly.

"You got a free ride this year 'cause of your little brother. Ride's over, Denbrough."

Henry caught the noise of indistinct radio chatter and he looked past Bill, at his father, the chief of police. The scruffy man took off his glasses and glared at his son. Henry tried to shake it off but he backed up slightly.

"This summer's gonna be a hurt train, for you and your faggot friends."

Henry licked his palm and wiped it across Bill's face. Patrick snickered and three bullies retreated the car, where their other friend Victor Criss was waiting.

Stan and Richie joined Bill and Eddie's side, glaring after the Bowers Gang.

"I wish he'd go missing," Richie muttered.

Eddie nodded. "He's probably the one doing it."

×××

Ben Hanscom grabs the handles of his bike with one hand and carefully moves it out of the rack. He was balancing a diorama of the Derry Standpipe in his other hand. He looked around the courtyard briefly, seeing the noiseless chatter of students around him as his music blasts in his ears. Completely unaware he and his bike were blocking the stairs.

A now somewhat dry Beverly Marsh stood on the stairs waiting to pass. Y/n, who had helped her dry off in the bathroom, had promptly realized she never had the chance to clean out her locker. The duo decided to meet each other at their shared apartment complex. To kick off the summer break, Beverly was going to stay at Y/n's apartment for the night, and get a much-deserved break from her father.

Beverly prickled at the small obstacle. She was impatient from the day's events and to get home and grab a change of clothes before her father got home from work. Eager to disappear to Y/n's next door. But the boy blocking the stairs didn't seem to know he was even doing it.

"You gonna let me go by?" Beverly asked, bringing him out of his stupor. "Or is there a secret password or something?"

Ben turned suddenly, and when he saw who it was before him, his stomach did flips and his heart was aflutter. He harbored a crush for the girl, ever since he first laid eyes on her in class. She never failed to make him blush, just with a simple look.

"Oh," he turned his head down to the ground quickly to hide his scarlet face. "Um, sorry,"

"Sorry's not," She trailed off when the diorama he had been holding fell to the ground, and he scrambled to pick it up. "password."

Just as he had picked up his diorama, his bike fell to the ground. She felt a wave of guilt for being snarky, he was clearly sorry and at this point she knew, he had enough on his plate. Someone they both had to worry about. Henry Bowers.

"Henry and his goons are over by the west entrance, so you should be fine," she eased, and Ben looked at her taken aback.

"Oh, I wasn't--"

"Everyone knows he's looking for you," she nodded.

Ben sighed and shied away. She smiled and took a few steps forward, grabbing the headphones off his head.

"What you listening to?"

Ben was in shock, but he stood still waiting for the inevitable teasing she would bring. But instead she smiled brightly, making his heart pound faster and he could feel his face grow hotter.

"New Kids on The Block," She took the headphones back off.

"I don't even like them. I was just--"

"Wait. You're the new kid, right? Now I get it."

His heart sunk.

"There's nothing to get."

"I'm just messing with you," she assured.

She placed the headphones on top of his head, and he promptly grabbed them, wrapping them around his head as best he could with one hand.

"I'm Beverly Marsh"

"Yeah. I know that 'cause we're in the same class. Social Studies. And you were..." he trailed off, and shook his head slightly. "I'm Ben. But pretty much everybody just calls me..."

"The new kid," Beverly finished, nodded in understanding. "Well, Ben, there are worse things to be called. Let me sign this."

She stepped forward, grabbing the yearbook she had spotted sticking out of his backpack. Bev eagerly opened it up to the front and her face fell seeing nothing but blank pages save for the word typed in black ink, 'Autographs'. Grabbing the pen from her belt, she bit the cap and held it between her teeth as she signed her name, unknowingly being watched in admiration by Ben. His eyes just poking up from the book.

She recapped the pen and handed the yearbook back to Ben. "Stay cool, Ben from sosh class."

"Uh, yeah," He turned to watch her leave, smiling brightly after her. "You too, Beverly."

As he watched her walk away, she called without turning her head, acknowledging his response. "Hang tough, new kid on the block."

Ben smirked at her clever reference to the boy bands' song, and a big stupid grin formed on his face. He chuckled, shaking his head softly, not believing his luck and her kindness.

He called back out to her, moments too late. "Please Don't Go, Girl. That's the name of another New Kids on the Block song,"

His words trailed off, knowing he had been too late. Hopefully, she hadn't heard it, he thought. And it seemed she hadn't. He shook his head, ashamed but relieved she hadn't heard it. Nevertheless, he had a new firm hand on his bike and diorama, determined not to drop them again and he walked his bike to the entrance, his headphones trailing behind him and his heart still aflutter.

Who cares that no one else signed my yearbook, he thought. When the only person he actually wanted to, did.

+++

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elizabeth-234 · 4 years ago

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Whumptober 2020

Previous alternate prompt three: Comfort

Summary: When a fire burns away all their hope Peter and his daughter ask the only person he can think of for help.

Hi all! Had the rough draft for this one for so long and finally happy I finished. This is for day fourteen of whumptober: Fire! Thanks for reading.

His Daughter

He didn’t know why the number came to mind or how after so many years he still had it memorized. The stranger’s phone dangled in front of him, their eyes flat with no room for argument, and with no other options available he typed in the ten digits without thinking. Of course, now the phone was ringing all he wanted to do was hang up.

“It’s Tony, what’s up?”  

Absurd. This was how he answered his phone from an unknown number? His voice was low and even; so casual like he was greeting an old friend. His chest throbbed and he rubbed it before answering. He cringed at how he sounded like his teenage self.

“Mr.- Mr. Stark?”

The line went silent. He rubbed his chest again. The man wouldn’t remember his one-time mentee and their short-lived acquaintanceship. Unwanted memories of long afternoons in the lab, sitting side by side working on homework or ‘company bullshit’ as he would call it. Their totality was painfully short but Peter could remember ever last time Mr. Stark greeted him with a smile and drove him home with a wink to May.

All of it was cut short by the ferry incident. The taste of bitter shame was still palatable years later and then like he couldn’t catch a break the fight with Toomes happened. Peter ended in the med bay afterward. Days went by and he didn’t see anyone besides the nurses and doctors. They told him Mr. Stark came to visit but he was always asleep. In time he healed and was sent home. It hadn’t even been a week and the email arrived. He was no longer in the internship program. The program Mr. Stark made up as cover for his Spiderman activities. The program that officially didn’t exist and he was fired.

Peter spent the next weeks locked in his room. His phone stayed silent no matter how much time he stared at it. May tried to talk to him but he wouldn’t respond. He tried to call Happy and Mr. Stark too many times to count but there was no answer. There would never be an answer until now.

Life for Spiderman moved on. His web slinging and crime fighting were no match for the small deeds and neighborhoods disputes. He could handle those himself even if it lacked the spark the patrols usually had. No, it was Peter’s life that crumbled. Late at night when all the doubts began creeping in, he thought how pathetic it was he’d grown so attached to the first father figure who came into his life. It did make sense that figure was someone resistant to the role in Peter’s life.

The consequences bleed into his regular life. He began acting out. May, too kind and compassionate, was there for him through all the slamming doors, backtalk, and lying. She was called franticly when he didn’t come home and was waiting with a blanket when he came home smelling of booze. Even when he dropped out of college, the car loaded with his clothes and news of a child, May smiled and hugged him as he began crying.

She was gone now. Their apartment building was in ashes. Peter was alone.

He swallowed and almost hung up but a small hand tugged on his sleeve. He looked down to see a beautiful mess of curly hair. His daughter all bright brown eyes and smiles even given these circumstances smiled up at him.

Raya.

There wasn’t any other way. The two of them had no one else and although this was a long shot, Peter had to try, for her. He cleared his throat again and began louder.

“Mr. Stark, this is Peter Parker. I’m, ah…”  

“Kid.” The man said in a breathy voice. “Peter, I could never forget you.”

Heat stirred in his chest at the lie. Hadn’t the man already forgotten him before? There was a sour taste in his mouth as accusations rested on the tip of his tongue but Raya climbed onto his lap and snuggled into his chest. With his free hand he brushed back her bangs and rubbed her back in circles to soothe her as much as him.

“Mr. Stark, I-”  

“Please, it always been just Tony.”   

He was old enough now he supposed. They could be on equal ground now that he was an adult. The name was weird to say but Peter forced himself to say it.

“Alright, Tony then. I have a favor to ask. We’ve been stuck with a bit of bad luck. There was a fire…”  

“Anything you need. Anything at all, Peter, I would be happy to help.”

“It’s only until we get back on our feet and I promise we’ll pay you back.”  

Tony insisted there wasn’t any need for repayment. He had too much money as it was, he said, but Peter couldn’t help the nagging in the back of his mind. No matter what had happened he didn’t want to be a burden on anyone. Still, there was no use arguing for the time being. Tony was far too stubborn, that Peter remembered well, and in this case, he wasn’t in a position to repay anything so Peter gave the address of the hospital. They went to wait outside.

Raya’s legs swung back and forth on the bench beside him. She wiped a sleeve across her nose, sniffling into the material. The doctor’s said these small side effects of smoke inhalation would go away in time but he couldn’t help the worry he felt. She was still young and although there were no outward signs of trauma from the fire, he knew with time she would begin to focus on what happened. Peter held out his hand and smiled when she squeezed her fingers back.

The fingers on his watch spun on. Mr. Stark – No, Tony – had said he would have someone swing by in…now. A door closed and Peter’s throat closed up. The man did nothing in half measures back in the day and it appeared the trait was still present. He didn’t have just anyone come to pick them up. Tony himself stepped out of the car and was walking over to them.

Peter stood up and brushed down the wrinkles in his shirt. They were a stranger’s clothes and although the shirt was too long and the jacket a bit tight through the shoulders, he was thankful someone in the hospital thought about it. Tony looked much the same. Nice jeans, graphic band tee, and a blazer that was tailored perfectly.

The man hesitated at the hand Peter offered. Some expression passed over his features too quick for Peter to interpret but then his hand enveloped his and they shook.

“Tony, I can’t thank you enough for the help.”

“Nothing to thank me for Peter. It’s good to see you, kid.”

“Dad’s not a kid. I am!”

He held his breath. It wasn’t on purpose that he left the addition of his daughter out of their phone call but, well, he didn’t think Tony was a man inclined to like children. So, if the detail of Raya slipped his mind during his request for help, Peter didn’t care. All he cared about was Raya who, at the moment, was holding onto his leg from behind. She peeked around him to glare at Tony.

“It’s a nickname, sweetheart. Come say hi to Mr. Stark.” He put a hand on her shoulder and guided her around his legs so her heels were stepping on the tips of his shoes. He winced at a particularly hard step as she fidgeted.

Her head was bowed and Peter could see her twisting the sleeves of her shirt in her palms. She sniffled again. Tony’s eyes remained on her unblinking as his mouth gaped open. No wonder she was nervous. Peter was about to break the tension when Tony cleared his throat. All the emotions on his face hidden away behind a smile. He hiked up his pants by the knees and squatted down so he was Raya’s height before sticking his hand out.

“Hello there. I’m Tony Stark, an old friend of your fathers. May I ask what your name is?”  

She leaned back into Peter and he squeezed her shoulders hoping she would be polite. With caution, as if she was measuring Tony’s sincerity, she brought her hand up and his old mentor and daughter shook hands. Tony like everyone else who met Raya couldn’t help but smile at her.

“I’m Raya and I’m seven years old. Dad never mentioned you before but he does that sometimes. I love forests though. Are we staying by a forest? One of my favorite type of tree is a Quaking Aspen or Populous Trembly…” She trailed off and scrunched up her nose. Her head fell backward trying to look at Peter.

“It’s pronounced Populus tremuloides.” 

“Yeah, that!” She said and looked back to Tony for his response.

The man rocked back on his heels but stayed low. Peter couldn’t help but feel like this was important. He wanted Raya to like Tony and vice versa. It wouldn’t do to dwell on why yet, though.

“Not everyone shares your love for trees, Raya.”  

“Actually, mine is the Abies Balsamea or Balsam fir. It grows around the cabin I own upstate.” 

 Raya glowed at his statement. He knew that anyone who respected her love of trees was alright in her book, but someone who knew them and their names. Well, Tony just earned a friend for life. She stepped off of Peter’s feet and toward the man crouching down.

“I like those too.” She said fidgeting with her sleeves again.

“Maybe you can visit one day and see them in person.”

Peter clenched his fists but nodded at the hopeful look his daughter gave him. He didn’t want to get her hopes up but he couldn’t stand for her to be upset so soon. Yes, he wanted them to like each other but he also had to keep what happened in mind. If she grew attached and Tony left again he wasn’t sure if he could take it; if they both could survive another person leaving them. He shook his head knowing he was getting ahead of himself. Raya sniffled, coughing into her hands. Peter pulled out the hand sanitizer and sprayed her hands as Tony stood up.

“Shall we go?”

Raya turned and buried her head against Peter’s thigh for a moment. Tony stretched out his legs in front of them. As soon as he was done his little girl stepped onto the curb and grabbed Tony’s hand. Peter got the bag they had from the hospital and watched from under his lashes as Raya began lecturing Tony about all the different trees they might see on the way to Tony’s cabin. The man helped her up into the car, making sure her legs could reach the step, and she curled up in the backseat like she owned the vehicle.

Raya fell asleep to the sound of the engine, leaving Tony and Peter alone.

There were so many things he could say that nothing came to mind. Spiteful words floated around in his skull but he wouldn’t act on them. Maybe it was best to continue the silence.

He had thought he was past the blazing red emotions, that they were left behind in his teenage years, but it turned out some remained, hibernating until such a reunion arrived. He stretched his legs out.

“A kid, huh?” Tony said without looking away from the road. “I must be getting old.”  

Peter shrugged and crossed his legs before uncrossing them again. Tony sighed but he didn’t care. He was acting like Raya did when he sent told her it was bedtime, but he didn’t care. Or maybe it was he cared too much. He startled back when he felt a hand touch his arm.

“Kid, I think we need to talk, but whatever we say I am here to help you through this, whether you want me there or not.”

Peter crossed his legs. He stared at Tony. His sunglasses didn’t hide the wrinkles around his eyes anymore and the grey hairs were much more prominent than before. Time affected them both. Peter knew he needed to let go of these lingering resentments, his fear of rejection.

He and Hannah had tried to teach Raya how to navigate her feelings and what to do with them afterward. First to identify them, if you could, and then figuring out how you wanted to act in a certain situation. Feelings were sticky and sometimes burdensome, leading you astray, but sometimes they were beautiful in their pain or elation. Whatever the feelings were, they told Raya, they were hers and were always valid.

It was time he took those lessons to heart. His heart clenched from the pressure but he began to untangle the mess of emotions he’d carried around for so many years. They would need to talk but he would be ready. Honesty began with oneself and he would try from there. Peter turned to look back at his sleeping daughter before nodding at Tony.

Thank you!

Next: There’s a Light in the Hallway

#whumptober2020 #whumptober 2020 #no. 14 #fire #spiderman #Spider-man #avengers #marvel #mcu #fanfic #fic #ao3 #peter parker #tony stark #oc #dad peter parker #father peter parker #estranged relationship #mending relationship

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punchyline · 5 years ago

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Catfight || Discord

Summary: Punchline crashes the party and a fight ensues. Trigger Warnings: Abuse mentions, violence, death, blood, Joker Written By: @harleenqueenzel, @antidyingantihero, @ofpowerfulmortal, @poisoned-kisses

Harley: Harley pressed a kiss to her adopted son's cheek, and scratched Bruce behind the ear. She felt eyes on her, turning her head to see a woman wearing clown makeup. Oh great. "Hey, Mike..." she said, looking away. "Is that clown still watching me?" she asked, feeling anxious.

Mike: Mike's smile turned genuine. Harley always made him feel better. He glanced behind her, looking at the clown. "Kind of. Who is she." he said as he looked back at the bar. "You want me to get her out of here?"

Harley: Harley let out a soft sigh. "I have no idea. But she looks like she works fer my ex," she commented, turning to look at the woman again. Her presence was making her uncomfortable. And if Pam saw her, she'd probably end up strangling her. "I'm not sure. Do I give her a chance first, or d'ya think I should go straight ta the throwin' her out?"

Punchline: "William." She mused, scrunching up her nose and giving him a cheeky smile. "I like that. I think that's what I'll call you." She decided and he wasn't about to change her mind. She liked the sound of it, the way it shaped on her tongue. She had another sip of her drink. She may be playing with him, but she was loyal to the Clown Prince of Gotham.

Mike straightened up. "Joker? If you didn't invite her get her the hell out of here. I can do it if you want Ma'" he answered. No one was going to make her uncomfortable.

Harley: Harley bit down on her lower lip, nodding as she ran her fingers through Bruce's fur. She didn't want Mike to get hurt -- not that he could, really. "Could ya go an' ask her what her business here is or somethin' like that? If she starts bein' aggressive, I'll come over an' help. I've got a gun concealed beneath this dress," she shrugged.

Mike: "Of course." he said standing up and kissing Harley's head. He went over to the woman, not carrying about interrupting her conversation. "What's your business here?" he asked serious. "Because I know you weren't invited."

Billy: Billy crinkled his nose, he was not used to having someone calling him by William. He felt as if he was in trouble when people did it and remind him too much about his mom, which hurt him. Even if he was extremely young when she left him at the park, he still remembered that she called him by his full name all the time, "I don't have a choice, do I?"

Punchline: "It's cute. You don't like it?" She asked Billy. She glanced Harley's way just then, catching the kiss. Half of Gotham hated her... but the other half. It praised her for leaving him. Idolized her for it. "I heard it was open for all." Punchline replied, taking a few steps from Billy towards the boy. "Did Pumpkin over there ask you to talk to me?" She said, glancing over towards Harley with an icy stare. "I'm here to paint eggs."

Harley: Harley watched as Mike approached the woman, and she heard her say 'pumpkin'. Her stomach churned and she started to walk towards Punchline, Bruce next to her, watching her closely. He'd attack if he had to. She stayed a few steps away, but was close enough to help Mike if he needed her.

Mike: "Well that was a misprint, you see it's open to everyone who don't work for a that piece of shit clown" he answered back. "I don't care what you came to do. The only thing you're going to do now is leave, and I'd rather not make a scene but I will."

Billy: Billy knew from the start that going to a villain part was a bad idea, now he was more sure, he didn't know what to do, he wasn't turned into Shazam, he had no powers, "Okay, now, let's not fight, we don't want things to end badly," he knew if they fought, more than one person could get hurt.

Punchline: Punchline eyed Harley as she came a little closer. This was who she was here for. Not her odd little bodyguard, not William. she was here for Harley Quinn. She wanted to see her. To know what she was dealing with. "I don't work for him." She corrected. She sort of did but she wanted to make it feel more intimate. More special. "We're partners." She took out her knife from her boot pocket and in one swift, cruel movement sliced open Mike's neck. Feeling the blood splatter on her face before she turned to Harley and Billy. "Oops... my bad."

Harley: Harley ran forward as soon as the woman pulled out a knife, but she was too late. She grabbed the woman by her ponytail, slamming her head against the top of the bar a couple of times. "Get the fuck outta my mansion," she hissed into her ear. She knew that Mike would wake up soon, but that didn't mean this bitch could come into her home and pull an attempted murder. "Don't make me pull out my gun, honey. I won't miss if I do."

Punchline: Punchline felt the woman tug her by her hair and smash her head against the table, not fighting against it. When she was done, she let out a small chuckle. Glancing up at her face from where she was holding her. "You liked him, didn't you? The little brat?" She whispered back. "Shoot me, dollface. I'm sure Pudding would just love that." She replied with a hiss before using her leg to kick Harley off of her. Immediately jumping on her so she could pin her to the floor. Pulling her face in close to the other woman's. "That's what you called him, wasn't it?" She said, ignoring the shouting all around her. All that mattered was Harley.

Harley: Harley slammed her head against the table again when the other asked about Mike. "Who I do an' don't like doesn't concern ya, toots. But I can tell ya one thing... I definitely don't like you." The use of the nickname she had for Joker caught her off-guard, and suddenly she was being kicked backwards. Her body pushed forward as the woman pinned her to the floor, and she headbutted her in the nose. "Yeah, 'cause that's what he was. My Puddin'. Jealousy is an ugly colour on you, sweetie!" she yelled, using all of her slightly enhanced strength to flip them over, now on top of Joker's new toy, her fingers wrapped tightly around her wrists as she pinned her down. "Tell me what ya want. Is it me? 'Cause I ain't goin' anywhere with you."

Punchline: Punchline's teeth grind together and her eyes bore into the other woman's. Anger clear on her face. She reached down to grab at Harley's neck and choke her when she felt the woman smash her head into her nose and she gasped. Blood dripping from her nose onto her snow white skin. She was as pale as he was and they'd never have that intimate connection because Harley blew up the Chemical Plant. "Say that again and I'll rip your tongue from your mouth." She snarled before Harley managed to get her down on the ground with her now straddling Punchline. "Oh... honey... I just wanted to meet you." She said before rearing up herself and smashing her own head against Harley's.

Harley: Harley could feel the woman's blood dripping onto her. It was disgusting, and she wanted to throw herself into a bath filled with sanitizer. "Rip my tongue from my mouth? Nice threat, Hannah Montana. I was with him fer years, d'ya really think a lil' threat like that is gonna scare me?" she growled. She stared down at the other, her grip on her growing tighter as she didn't get the answer she wanted. Before she could say anything in response, she was being headbutted. Their fighting styles were too similar. Had Joker trained her to fight like this? Her lip throbbed, and she felt blood dripping down her chin. "You fuckin' psycho," she screamed, letting go of one of her wrists to grab her gun from beneath her dress. "I'm gonna paint these walls with yer brains. It'll be the most beautiful thing anyone's ever seen," she warned. "I'll make sure ta invite Mistah J ta look at my new work of art. He loves it when I go feral."

Punchline: Punchline let out a deep chuckle and struggled to break free of the blonde's grip. "Hannah Montana? You're the one with the awful blonde weave." She retorted. She smacked their heads together and when she pulled back down, Harley was pulling for a gun and her wrist was freed. She could have easily grabbed a knife. She had two after all but... it was more fun to do something else. She grabbed a hold of the other's neck and forced her face closer to her own. Reaching her head back up and with her teeth biting down into her shoulder. "How's that for feral?" She spit out the blood to the side of them before moving her legs to wrap around Harley's waist and keep her still on top of her. "Go ahead, shoot me. Impress him. That is why you're doing this right. Because that's what you just said... and here I thought you were over him. My Prince."

Harley: Harley was ready to kill her. "Awful blonde weave? At least I ain't tryin' ta channel Ariana Grande with that high ponytail. Or is it just a cheap facelift?" she asked, a smirk on her face. Feeling a hand on her throat, she tried to stay as calm as possible. This was fine, she was into it. But when this stranger was doing it... It was a little scary. Her other hand reached up, grabbing the other woman's and trying to prize it away from her neck. A hiss left her lips as teeth sunk into her shoulder, and she pressed the barrel of the gun against the other's forehead. "Ya need ta keep those teeth where I can see 'em, Hannibal." As she listened to the other speak, she shook her head, feeling herself start to panic. It had taken her years to get to where she was today -- happily married, adopted kids... "He ain't yer nothin'. You think you mean somethin' ta a guy like him? Yer nothin' but a toy that he can mess with. That's why yer here now, right? He pitted you against me. Pathetic," she spat, lowering her gun and pressing a hand to the bleeding bite mark on her shoulder. "An' if ya ever bite me again, I'll pull yer fuckin' teeth out with pliers," she threatened, before sinking her own into the woman's arm. If she was going to have a scar on her shoulder, the other woman was getting one too. Fair was fair. She didn't stop, not until she was satisfied that she was causing pain. Pulling back, she grinned.

Punchline: She felt herself smile when Harley held the barrel of the gun pressed against her forehead. Tilting her head slightly back, Harley's blood bloomed at the edges of her lips and slowly dripped their way down her cheeks, like it was drawing a smile on the woman's face. She let out another chuckle at Harley's words and watched as she reacted to what she said. "You know... you kinda taste like he does." She commented, her voice low and her eyes wide. She was trying to make her jealous. Sure... Harley had been there for much longer then she had but she was his new thing now. She was there for him when Harley wasn't. She didn't run away, she took it. The bad, the good, the really ugly. Because she loved him. Harley didn't. Harley didn't know what that felt like and yet Joker never shut up about her. She was the one there everyday by his side and she kept having to hear him yammer on about how she used to call him Puddin'. How she used to smile better. Fuck that, she'd be smiling no longer. Not when Punchline had her way. "He loves me!" Punchline screamed at her when she tried to tell her that he didn't. "I'm no toy! I'm his right hand woman. He respects me. He cares for me. He didn't care for you!" She lied with a growl. Then Harley moved down and bit her back and she used her one free hand to grab at the back of her neck, at her baby hairs. Trying to force her off. When she finally was, Punchline glared ad her and used the way her legs were positioned as a way to force Harley down to the side. She then rolled them so she was on top and got up to her feet placing her foot on Harley's chest to keep her there.

Harley: Harley felt repulsed when she said that she tasted like Joker. They were nothing alike. Not anymore, at least. "Look, I'm inta some kinky stuff myself.... but that? That's just fucked up." She stared into the woman's eyes, seeing nothing but anger. Her own eyes used to be like that whenever she looked in a mirror. It was what being with a man like him did to you -- it gave you a hunger for violence and pain that you could never satiate. Eventually, his new plaything would see the light. After years of pain and abuse, mental torture. Harley didn't want that for her, even if she hated her right now and wanted to kill her. She was a puppet, just like she had been. But there was no way to make her see that. Being under his spell lasted for years. "He loves ya? Are ya sure about that? Does he love ya when he's leavin' bruises? Does he love ya when he's sendin' you out ta get hurt so he doesn't," she said, her voice low and angry. It was making her remember things she'd rather forget. This was supposed to be a fun night with her family and friends, and now it was a nightmare. "He doesn't care fer anybody!" she screamed back. "Nobody but himself!" The pain of the woman pulling her hair didn't really bother her. She'd been through so much worse, so she didn't even flinch. Once again, she was being put on her back, and she choked out a breath as the other put a foot on her chest. Reaching up, she dug her nails into her leg. "Did he teach ya this? Make yer victim feel small?" she asked, laughing as she lay there, looking up at the stranger. "Do ya feel powerful now? Like yer in charge? 'Cause you'll never be in charge of me. I'm in charge of me. Now get yer foot off me, an' go back ta kissin' his. This is yer last chance."

Punchline: Punchline: She hated her. Everything she said, she hated it. He didn't love her? Then how did she explain the good moments? Those days then he was good to her. When they'd dance together for no good reason. To no music. He'd say he just felt like dancing with her, when she asked him. How did Harley explain the times when they were alone and he'd actually let her kiss him? She felt Joker's love. She wasn't delusional or stupid. She knew it was there and the angry outbursts. That meant nothing. "Yes, he loves me then, too." She argued. Harley was screaming at her and Punchline just glared at her, watching her with a stone-cold face. She held the woman down and slowly pushed her weight against her leaning down to get a bit closer to Harley. "Maybe he did." She said. "He taught you it too, didn't he?" She said, her voice getting quieter. "I'm leaving, and not because you told me to. I could end you right now if I want." she said, taking the knife from her other boot and gesturing it towards her. "But I'd like to do it in front of him." She decided. "So he knows you're gone." She gave her one last kick before removing her foot from the other. Just noticing now the wave of dizziness in her head. She shook it, trying to get it back to normal. Taking a few steps away from her.

Pamela: Pamela had just walked into the ballroom as a woman, covered in blood, kicked Harley as she stood above her. She had been out and told Harley that she would be late to their party. She hadn't told her that she had began the process of creating more children. She would need a bette lab for that. Pamela quickly glanced around the room, noticing the blood all over their new ballroom. The shock of the scene wore off and rage bubbled up in her chest instead. The woman was thankful for the vines that grew on the outside of the house, because now she willed them to burst in through the windows. "Get the fuck away from my wife, you sad excuse for a clown! Who the fuck do you think you are? Did that bastard clown send you?" She screamed as she power-walked towards the woman, arms raised. Pamela didn't wait for an answer and she willed the vines to wrap the woman up tightly, squeezing her enough to hurt. She ran over to Harley and dropped to her knees. "Oh darling, flower, are you alright?" she asked, panicked now, searching Harley for lie-threatening wounds.

Punchline: When the green woman burst in, Punchline frowned. She was on her way out but now she had to deal with the woman that Harley married. She didn't intend to fight Harley at all during this party. She just wanted to watch her, but ah, well. When in Rome. The vines shot from the windows and came right towards her. She could get out of this but Poison Ivy would just wrap her up with what remains of the vines she would cut. Oh- She was rushing over to Harley now thinking that she had detained the problem. Focused on her wife. Her love. Oh, how week it was. Knife in hand she poked it through the vines. (They were pretty tough due to Spring but not actually that bad). Ignoring the pain from the squeezing in one jerk of a movement she sliced all the way through the plants and was able to release herself. Jumping down nimbly before quickly using the chance to leap out the broken window and out of the party. Hows that for an exit?

#discord #c: harley #c: billy #c: mike #c: pamela

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momtemplative · 5 years ago

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Saturday Afternoon, MACRO and MICRO

Definition of Macro: large-scale; overall. ie., THE FOREST.

Definition of Micro: extremely small. ie., THE TREES. Definition of Macro, here: The wild world at large.

Definition of Micro, here: The tiny home we inhabit, where we “shelter in place.”

MICRO—I sit here in our tiny RV that is parked in the driveway. It’s where I “go to write”, a creative parlor with wheels and a view of our magnificent choke cherry out the window that is just starting to think about blooming. (I don’t blame it for being hesitant.)

Months back, Opal and her friend pretended this RV was a rescue vehicle for dogs—all dogs but mostly pit bulls, a breed Opal feels is highly misrepresented. From where I sit, in the passenger seat swiveled to face the rear, there are four black-and-white photocopies of gorgeous dog portraits staring at me. One pit bull in particular looks straight through me.

I’ve purposefully resisted straight-up news, aside from my nightly installment of “Good News Network” and NPR’s weekly “Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me” radio quiz show. But living without allowing for the outside to seep in feels unhealthy in its own right. Selectively permeable would be the proper thing to practice now.

So I crack open my computer and dip my toes in the NY Times live coverage of the Coronavirus.

I can hear Jesse’s future voice in my head: How was writing?

Me: Good, but I’m feeling a tad suicidal now.

Him: Why?

Me: I read the news.

Him: Now why would you go and do that??

MACRO—“With President Trump having undercut the new guidance of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention by immediately declaring that he would not wear a mask himself, it was far from clear how many Americans would ultimately embrace the recommendation.”

MICRO— I return from the RV to find a house party of three people in my living room. Thankfully, my family did not get the memo that in this moment, life on the outside is complex and backwards. Ruth is on Jesse’s shoulders, no pants, shit-eating grin and fresh-cut bangs in her eyes. She shakes like a puppy with over-large ears and Opal twirls in her No ProbLLama nightgown to the Imagine Dragons song, Zero. Inside our little bubble, things are bumping! The sun floods the living room and even the anti-social cat seems obliged to hang out—from an appropriate distance.

MACRO—Governor Andrew Cuomo warns that, as infections passed 113,700 and deaths 3,500, New York State would reach the worst point of the coronavirus crisis within a week or so. He also said the state was using the machines for coronavirus patients at a rate that would exhaust its stockpile in just six days.

MICRO—Three boxes are stacked one atop the other in front of our door like a cairn. One box is for Jesse’s birthday next weekend, the others are for Ruth.

It’s looking like COVID-19 will spit us out the other end proficient in at least one new talent—Opal’s is roller skating. She insisted on using my skates, which she found while foraging for activities in the garage like a squirrel for food. After a few days of wearing those up and down the down-stairs hallway, and back and forth on the sidewalk out front, I was certain the future for her ankles was bleak and we ordered her a pair on Amazon that were her size.

Ruth observed all this unfolding and with no intention of leaving empty-handed. Unfortunately, toddler-sized skates are much harder to come by. So, many weeks into the future, Ruthy finally got her own skates that go over her shoes and are, frankly, awesome. She also picked out the tackiest Olaf helmet—with a carrot-nose that actually protrudes—after instructing me to “search on Amazon for Olaf now please.”

Each of those treasured items are contained in the boxes on our porch. I jump into our current porch-sanitizing routine (bleach wipes and spray lined up on the porch without apology)—wipe box, open, wipe down package inside, wash hands thoroughly.

You can practically hear Ruth buzzing as suits up for a jolly, though quick to be exhausting, skate around the block. Her uniform killed, and would have worked as well for Halloween, Burning Man, a rave and a roller derby—mixed patterns for shirt and pants, knee pads and skates from Trolls, Olaf helmet. When she velcroes her final skate, I hear a faint, prayer-like utterance from Jesse: dear god. She is an eye-full that could save a life.

MACRO—Trump is getting help with the November election. His campaign just rolled out a new ad, titled “Hope,” featuring appreciative quotes from Gov. Cuomo and Gov. Newsom of California. With the lives of their constituents at stake, they’ve given him the made-for-TV sound bites he was never able to extract from Ukraine’s president, Volodymyr Zelensky.

MICRO— Thank god for these kids. If I were being force-fed the news then led to an empty house with, maybe, a roommate-peer who is also stressed and bloated with sad information, or if perhaps I were old and alone, I’d be struggling in an entirely different way. Sure, I have my moments of fantasizing about what it would have been like if COVID and shelter-in-place came at a time before or children, during a time when I could have relished cleaning and reading and making a weeks-long retreat out of an unsavory situation. But the fact is, these kids keep the scales level.

Not to mention the fact that affection is built-in. Even though Ruth is less interested in snuggling than she is in building block-towers or submerging every toy she owns in water, we seem to be touching constantly, in this or that way. Hugs from Opal and Jesse, snuggling on the couch for a show, holding hands on our walks around the block—it’s all-inclusive. The fact that this is not the case for everyone is something I am well aware of.

MACRO—Jared Kushner has embedded his own people in the Federal Emergency Management Agency; a senior official described them to The Times as “a ‘frat party’ that descended from a U.F.O. and invaded the federal government.” As The Washington Post reported, Kushner’s team added “another layer of confusion and conflicting signals within the White House’s disjointed response to the crisis.”

Kushner, you can’t shatter us. Young girls in roller skates win every goddam time.

MICRO— Our block continues to be paradise. Any interest we had six months ago in selling this house has been waylaid and, thus, we are appreciating our home base in a truly different way.

As we make our way down the block with two girls on their respective wheels, we holler at our beloved across-the-street neighbors, friends of 14 years. They sit, mysteriously, at a card table in their front yard, as if they are having an invisible garage sale. We exchange a boisterous, level-12-volume conversation from across the street, talking over each other and at the same time, expressing everything we possibly can in the tiny window we have while the girls scoot away on their skates.

The corner that turns on to the bike path and is covered with ancient ponderosa pines smells musty and earthy and perfect. Like every camping trip ever taken. Every hike through the woods. A momentary dose of equilibrium.

When we circle back, our neighbors are still outside.

One of them asks, “Hey, have you guys been wearing masks outside?”

“No, Governor Polis just suggests it for any public place—grocery, whatever.”

“We saw a few people driving by with them on.”

“Yea, so did we, we saw a few people out walking with them on, just outside.”

I guess the point is, if it’s not gonna hurt, you might as well do it. Hell, if we are in this far—as is shelter-in-place—then we might as well take it all the way. To pick up the slack for people who aren’t doing what they should be doing. (We are actually yelling all this in conversation across the street.) The idea that some people would still not be doing what they are supposed to be doing is ludicrous. I’ve vented my rage at the college students of America over St. Patty’s Day, but they are all home by now, are they not? So who are we talking about here?

Fact is, as I just learned today, there are still five states that are not mandatory shelter-in-place. (I’m sorry, what??)

MACRO—“I can’t lock the state down,” said Gov. Kim Reynolds of Iowa, which has recorded more than 600 confirmed cases and at least 11 deaths. “People also have to be responsible for themselves.”

MICRO— Opal has been loving her evening ritual of putting Ruth to bed. She says it’s one of her most ‘special times of the day,’ though it happens only a few times a week. She takes her little sister down by the hand, gets her jammies on and teeth brushed, reads to her, the whole precious nine yards. She does that tonight, leaving Jesse and I to the quiet of ourselves and our space-sans-kids in the family room.

Jesse promptly dozes off in the rocking chair. I lie on the floor with eyes closed in star-pose, taking up some glorious space. These days are taking a toll. But it’s also true that I laughed so hard on four different occasions this afternoon that I buckled over twice, slapped a knee and wet myself.

So much is going well in our tiny Microcosm that sometimes it’s easy to forget the Big Picture Macro. Ignorance is indeed not far from a certain cheap kind of bliss. It makes sense why people do it, why people feel the need to avoid discomfort. But, ultimately, the mind knows when it is missing something. The soul knows when it is being cut-off. Our beings can feel when humanity is suffering, whether or not we choose to admit it to ourselves in so many words.

“Mom!” Opal whisper-yells from down the hall. “Ready!” Meaning, she’s ready for me to come and finish Ruth’s bedtime with a song. But by the time I get to Ruth’s snug and utterly safe kid-room, she is fast asleep.

4/4/20

(all quotes in italics come from the NY Times live coverage of the coronavirus from the previous week.)

#momtemplative #HeatMamaWords #mindfulparenting #micromacro

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alitheamateur · 6 years ago

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The Grind-Chapter 19

The newby fighters thankfully handled media horrendously, answering questions in choppy six or seven word responses. Sure, it limited the material and made the story vulnerable to the writers embellishing devices, but the speedy conclusion of the often clock-stopping, boring event was never one complained about amongst the journalistic world.

When I stepped outside in pursuit of the strangely near empty bar, I pulled the sleeves of my blazer off and draped it over my forearm, sliding my clutch between my bicep and ribcage. The crisp, white silk of the tank top swayed with the calm, cool breeze of the nighttime air, mixing with my nervously sweating skin, creating an array of chill bumps over my flesh. An exiting patron held the door open as I swept inside the dimly lit sports bar. There weren’t many tables, only 3 tv’s, and no blasting music. Hence the lack of customers, I’m sure. Colton was easy to spot, hunching at a high-top near the glass front of the building. He hadn’t ordered a drink yet, once again, trying desperately to execute that military like, gentlemanly manner his father Michael, had instilled in him, presumably. I dropped the weight of my tired body in the un-cushioned wooden seat, and huffed aloud in the relief. “That didn’t take too long,” he stated first.

“Those two were complete media virgins. They didn’t have much to say.” I confirmed as I massaged in the sanitizer I applied to my palms, and scanned over the sparse clients.

“Want me to grab you a drink or somethin’? I didn’t know if you were still a martini girl, so I held off.” Had his accent become thicker with his hair?

“Actually, I’ll just take a seltzer. Lime on the side too, please.” Tia would probably be able to sniff out the scent of alcohol in my sweat like a hungry hound dog, and have my tail for drinking while training.

She had graciously granted me a pass on my birthday, so I didn’t see it wise to push my luck any further. Come to think of it though, when in the actual hell had I become the girl to drink seltzer water and lime?

My ex now turned waiter for the moment returned with a small square tumbler filled with fizzy, clear liquid, and a long neck in his other hand. His black shirt painted over the ripples of his back, the muscles there moved like thickened water down the spread of him. I’d love to be a fly on the wall when he shops for himself. I can only imagine his decision-making unraveling something like, “yeah, black t-shirt. I can always use another black t-shirt.”

“Thank you,” I said between lengthy sips. “And thanks too for, um… the flowers. They were stunning. You really didn’t have to, but it was a sweet gesture, Colton.”

“So I did okay, huh? They’re your favorite?” He hoped with questioning eyes, taking a quick pull of his sweating beer.

“Yes, Colt. They’re my favorite. You did well. Extremely well.”

“I owe you another 50 dozen more, Liv….”

Here is comes. The conversation was about to take a dicey dive into the abyss.

“It’s not flowers I need, Colton. I think you know a million dollars’ worth of pretty bouquets won’t fix, this.” I drew an invisible line through the space from me, to him, “It’s not gonna fix us. Or, whatever us there was, I guess.”

He sat his half empty beverage on the scuffed table tap, and I noticed the glass chatter against the surface. He was shaking. This wasn’t the angry, poked bear shaking though. This was the abused, cowering, wounded bird shaking.

“Yeah, Liv. I get that, okay? I just didn’t know where to fuckin’ start, ya’ know? I didn’t wanna get too pushy..” he began, while drawing nervous figure-eights with his callused finger tips along the cracks in the table top. “But, I gotta know. I ain’t tryna put you on the spot or nothin’, but is there any fixing it, babe? I have no right to asking you this shit, I realize that. But, just give me somethin’ here, Liv. Should I just write us off?”

The million dollar question. How was I supposed to give him the answer his desperate eyes so anxiously desired, when I didn’t have it myself? I loved Colton Ritter, no matter how blindly I wanted the fact to be untrue, there was no refuting it. But, I couldn’t shake the reluctancy I felt towards him either. That apprehensive, yet yearning brew filling up my gut. The next words I spoke to him would be the defining moment of what my future held, so I hesitated. Taking as long as I needed to sort through the perfect retort.

“You act like that’s such a simple question to answer, Colt. You have no idea what you did to me for Christ sakes,” my fist gently, but effectively smacked the table, clinking the glass beverages there. I refrained from chewing his hide in nagging anger, but I wasn’t about to hold back on what I truly needed to say. “I was a literal basket case. As damn foolish and weak as that may sound, it’s a fact. I missed work, I made myself sick from the unrelenting crying. Like, seriously, there was actual vomit, Colton. I wore your fuckin clothes around the apartment like a lost mutt!” I could see him tense entirely, almost wincing aloud in shame and heartache. And I half wondered if maybe he’d done some of his own shameful grieving during our time apart. “Every day for nearly a year felt like one big, constant punch to my gut, making it almost hard to even catch a decent breath. I’ve been better for a while now, but every single day, your stupid, smug face finds its way into my head….” I allowed myself a pause to try and extinguish the burning tears I knew were about to come loose, but there was no use. Once the first fell, I just opened the watery dam. “If I’m being honest, part of my really just hates you. A big chunk of me, as a matter of fact. But I know the love is still there, as much as the hate. Probably more,” snubbing through my tearful fit. “I don’t think I’m ready right this minute, Colton. For us, I mean. I think I might be at some point, but who’s to say… I can’t name the day and time. So, if that isn’t enough for you, and you feel like I’m a waste of your time, then yes, you should just move on.”

Th brawniest, hard as stone man I’d ever known, raised a hand to wipe dry his weepy eyes. It wasn’t a hysterical, sobbing outburst, and an actual tear may not have fallen free, but they were there. The glazy sheen over his blue toned eyes tonight gave him away. He blew out the breath he’d apparently been holding in before his mustered the composure to speak back.

“I’m on your time, Livvy, alright? I’ll just stay outta your way, and if ya’ want me, you know I’m here. I fucked up. Royally, to say the least. There is so much I wanna say, and I hope you gimme the chance to piece it all together for you someday in the near future. I’m sorry seems to be the most important thing right now. And I’m gonna say it every day I have the chance. I’ll hang back as best I can, okay? And if someone else so happens to come along, for either of us, then I guess that’s that, huh?” He reached forth his hand to graze as gently as a summer breeze over my resting fingers, a current of G-force energy rattled through my every internal organ. I didn’t jerk away from his touch this time, instead allowing myself the loving awakening I had longed for the past days without him. He’d be the death of me, whether it be in happiness or misery, I wasn’t sure.

“I think that sounds like the best way to handle it, Ritter. I can work with that,” I sheepishly smiled, curling an auburn strand behind my ear. “Now, I better get home and get some sleep.” Picking my clutch up first, then swallowing the last mouthful of my drink, I stretched my petite legs searching for the ground below me. Before I could drop on my heels, he had swiftly came to my side, offering his hand out to steady my drop from the heighted stool. The man was so full of these sickeningly, syrupy sweet courtly gestures, and I might as well have been licking the plate.

“Let me walk you to the car this time. Please?” he almost begged holding my jacket open for me to slide my arms in.

“How about I walk you to your bike, and we’ll call it a night.” It wasn’t a question. I wanted to seem as independent as I could to him, while also establishing again that I’d be okay without him if things didn’t pan out with our relationship.

I went out on a wobbly whim and locked my arm through the empty crease in his elbow, while his hand was snuggled deep into his jean pockets, and out of a side eyed glance, and detected a half smile on his lips. “My bike is right here on the corner. Is you car close?”

“Close enough. Don’t you worry about me, kid,” I winked before breaking my clutch on his arm as we reached his black bike parked by a ticking meter.

“Hey listen, Liv. I’m thinking about sticking with Temple Fitness. Y’know like, staring up a membership to train there and stuff. But if you’re not good with it, then I’m out.” He remarked strapping his helmet around his bearded, calico chin.

“I think I can handle it, Colton. Just stay outta my way, big guy..” it was clear by the playfulness of my high pitched, girl giggly that I was testing the waters with some flirty banter. The saluted “yes, boss” he tossed back told me he was aware of my joking tone. When I took a couple slow paces in exit, bidding him a goodnight, he met my steps, and leaned in for a hopeful kiss to my pert cheek. \

“Not yet, Colt. Not yet, okay?” The dangerously close presence of his lips to me could’ve shot me a million feet in the air above us. But, I had to keep the line drawn, for now anyways. He wasn’t out to the woods yet.

When I gave him my back in search of my own car down the sidewalk, he yelled my name, muffled through the visor of his helmet.

“Hey 2-1!” I turned slightly, never ceasing my footsteps, careful not to lose my balance while walking backwards in my strappy shoes. “You look better than ever, babe. And I’ll happily take my punishment for sayin’ it.” He took his bottom lip between his teeth, and I curled my lips up with brows raised in disbelief, yet satisfying pleasure, winking with no words, and went on my merry way. I heard his bike fire up with an almost lion like roar, and he sped off in the opposite direction. Revving his accelerator, no doubt in teenage like, hormonal ego.

The next morning, all too bright, and much too early I entered the office hanging my sleepy head, still reeling from the unexpected turn of events the previous evening. Through groggy rasps, I served my morning hellos to passing co-workers, determined to reach the noiseless four walls of my office and downing the contents of my Styrofoam cup. If I timed it just right, I thought maybe I could even sneak a 30-minute powernap sometime around the 10 o’clock hour. When I crossed the concierge desk, Layla, the awkward, mousy receptionist waved a hand to halt me.

“This package came to you this morning, Ms. Elliott.” The box rectangular box, wrapped in wrinkled brown paper had apparently been delivered early morning to the office.

I thanked Layla the messenger, and stepped over the threshold of the empty elevator. The package was unmarked, only adding to the quizzical allure, but I held my eager hands from slashing through the wrapping until I got into my private office. I blindly flipped on the single light switch, my purse thudding onto the neatly organized desktop calendar. I ripped the first corner of the box opened before I was even sat into the swivel seat, when a small folded sheet of paper fell into the floor.

Livvy,

Thought you may need this. The other one seemed little ratty. I think I cut it just how you like them. There’s plenty more where this came from.

Love,

Colt

I dropped the lid of the package, peeling back a translucent layer of tissue paper to find a white, slightly dingy colored Pittsburgh Pirates t-shirt. One I very much recognized as belonging to the gift giver himself. A weak smile had instantaneously crept across my face as I ran a thumb over the fading of the smooth polyester blend. I pondered, and settled on a decision in that second, that I was going to unapologetically relish the games he’d be willingly to play to win back my affection. I wasn’t wholeheartedly dreadful though, and I knew sending him thanks for the thoughtful efforts was the right thing to do, so I sent him a text to extend some reserved gratitude. Giving him the impression I was appreciative, but wasn’t eating out of his veiny hands just yet.

Tia was distant as of recent. Cold as a sparkling Pittsburgh frost before dawn. The conversation we had about my exchanges with Colt weren’t half as pleasant, and supportive as my phone call with Sara. Tia hated the man, not saying I blamed her. No matter what he said, or didn’t say, the gifts he gave, or the groveling that arose, she wasn’t forgetting the past. Colton Ritter was blacklisted indefinitely in her book. So much so, I even had to gulp down concerns that fizzled for my own friendship with her.

Climbing the steel steps of the cage with her was never too terribly intimidating before that night. I always knew no matter how repetitive she’d be with her promising that she wouldn’t take it easy on me, I could always sense the restraint of her moves. Yet again, before that night… The trifling stomps of her bare feet across the mat would’ve signaled danger, if the haughty shove passed my shoulder hadn’t already. “Chew that rubber, Elliott,” she yelled unkindly, instructing me to hurry with my mouth piece so we could get the session underway.

She was bouncing upward, shoving her knees into her chest, stretching to shatter my thighs with one of her categorical back kicks. Willow was crouched in the floor beside the metal confines, arms crossed about her chest in curious observation, Tia’s harshness not unnoticed by her and the onlookers in the workout room. We danced the usual mirrored waltz across the octagon from each other, each waiting for someone to stretch forth searching for the first connecting jab. Before my mind had a single minute to strategize an assault, Tia lunged lowly to bearhug my legs right from beneath my own body, and my elbows nearly ricocheted off the canvas floor. The sweat of my attacker was already profusely flowing, more so from the rumbling anger, and probable resentment she was feeling for the likes of me. We wormed around on the patched ground, she grabbing a lock around my legs, me tugging on her extended forearm. Amongst our grunts, and gasps of pain, a very confused and scratchy voice sung out above all else.

“The fuck? Liv?”

My eyes beckoned toward Colton’s wide stance next to Willow, but Tia didn’t let up. The more I fidgeted for release, the tighter she wound her meager form around me. When the match between us didn’t halt, I heard his intrusions slice the room again.

“LIV!” But this time, it wasn’t a questioning tone. He was demanding acknowledgment, and more importantly an explanation.

My “friendly” opponent loosened her vice, and I lunged a swift, fumbly kick to shake her off. If my face wasn’t already reddened from the efforts of the spar, it sure would’ve been painted with a bright shade when I stood to see the concerned contortions of his always tempting mouth. With his hands raised in dumbfounding confusion awaiting his answer, I rushed towards the cage door to meet him in the corner he was heading to.

“THIS is what you’ve been doing here, Livvy? What the hell?” He was lazily scratching a hand through the brown of his beard.

“Not that it’s a single ounce of your business, Colt, but yes. Started a few months back, Tia suggested it.” My feet firm and solid under his disapproving stares.

“Oh, c’mon Liv. I don’t mean to sound like a bossy prick about it, ok? It’s your life, you can do what ya’ want with it. It just… I dunno.. scares me, I guess…” I turned to notice his restless hands, squirming in fists at his side, and his teeth visibly grinding behind closed chops. “I hate myself for hurting you. How did ya’ think I was gonna take to seeing someone smash a fist to those pretty cheeks, babe?”

My gloved fingers didn’t hesitate to seek out his own, stilling his concerns. I intertwined our digits, and I swear I felt the life creep back into me. His eyes closed under feathery lashes, and there was no denying the husky exhalation that purred from him at our connecting flesh.

“I’m not some.. some weak kitten, Colt. I know you think I’m just a lowly damsel who needs a constant eye watching over her, but, that’s not the case.”

Although maybe very “me: Tarzan, you: Jane” to the outsiders perspective, Colton was very… well, male. He considered his place as my partner to be one of the valiant knight, shielding me from any oncoming harm. My humble opinion? It was all part of his blue collar, endearing charm. But, he’d have to reel it in on the aspect of my fight training.

“It’s not that I think ya’ need it 24-hour surveillance, kid. As a matter of fact, I think it’s just a shot to my ego that you don’t need it, ya’ know. I just wanna protect ya’, alright? Damn it, you’re always makin’ me… makin’ me talk so much, 2-1.” He enfolded my small hand tighter under his grip.

“I appreciate that. My very own lethal prrotector, huh?” I winked and wet my bottom lip catching his eye. “Ask Tia though, I hold my own with these gloves, big shot. Be careful, or you may have to find out first hand.”

Cool it, hormones. You might as well just jump his bones right here.

The flirtation went crawling like a cold shutter obviously over his roasting skin, and his eyes were swirling through shades of blue. “I would happily take that beating, sweetheart!”

Walk away. Now. Go liv, you’re drooling.

“I gotta get back to her though, or I’m gonna pay the price. See ya’ around?” I was securing the gloves assuredly, ready to bid riddance to him before his animal senses detected my feminine excitement, and he held me back.

“I’ll be around, yeah. Oh, hey girl! Nice shirt, by the way..” I went for a drink of my room temperature sports drink and nearly gagged on it. No way he couldn’t notice I was sporting the package he’d delivered a few short hours ago.

TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935 @mollybegger-blog @littleluna98

#Tom Hardy #tomhardy #tomhardyfanfic #tomhardyfanfiction #tom hardy fanfiction #tommy conlon #elizabeth olsen #thegrind

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margridarnauds · 6 years ago

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001 olympe/solene please!!! (also i know i haven't answered in 8 years but please bear with me, i haven't forgotten i'm just very late)

Thank you! (Also it’s fine; I was just a little worried I’d finally scared you away!) The following thoughts might be slightly rambling, given my family’s doing our daily rewatch of Toho!1789 and Maniaque just came on, thus short circuiting my brain.

when I started shipping it if I did: I seem to recall a conversation between you and @couldntgiveafox some ages ago where you were discussing alternative 1789s, and I believe I stumbled across it in my fall to 1789 Hell. I don’t think I really started actively SHIPPING it until I was writing Pour la Peine and the (still a WIP) Modern AU where they go to Disneyworld, since it showed off more how they would WORK as a couple. (Yes, really. In my defense, there’s something about Solène and Olympe working together to get Artois stranded on “It’s a Small World” that warms the cockles of my shipping heart.)

my thoughts: I think they have a lot of potential as a ship; I would REALLY love to have seen more of them in canon because I think that they’d have had a lot more potential than our canon ship. (Not that that’s SAYING much, but…) The two of them have two very different ways of dealing with things that really make them complement each other well. Like, Solène has a much more direct way of doing things; she probably had to shut down most of Ronan’s fights with the other kids in their village when they were younger, whereas Olympe…can handle herself, obviously, but she tends to prefer sidestepping it if she can and tends to prefer using the gun only as an absolute last resort. And Solène and Olympe both…fill in the gaps, with each other? Like, Olympe’s a woman who everyone sees as this simple little governess who can be walked over but has a spine of steel beneath those stays, whereas Solène is a woman who presents herself as being basically untouchable and unbreakable, but she has a lot of vulnerability beneath the surface.

What makes me happy about them: Solène has this blunt, rough edge that really works well against almost everyone, but the second that Olympe enters the room? She melts. Even if she’s terrified of what exactly that means and trusting someone again. She’s basically the embodiment of “I’ve only had Olympe for a day and a half, but if anything happened to her, I’d kill everyone in this room and then myself.” And Peyrol. Even if he’s not in the room and had nothing to do with it, she’d still kill Peyrol for good measure. And for Olympe, she has someone who’s genuinely in love with HER and would be willing to bend over backwards for her. (It’s not that I dislike Antoinette or that I’m even particularly criticizing her, but I do think that she can be insensitive when it comes to Olympe’s crush right until the very end when she lets her go and that sometimes, she takes advantage of Olympe’s feelings without realizing it, causing Olympe to get into trouble. See: Je Suis un Dieu.) Like, Lazare and Solène would never ADMIT it, because fundamentally they have way too much between them, but they have more in common there than they’d ever admit.

Finally: BLESS the Toho for giving me, like, five seconds of interaction between them. It might not have been much, but THEY TOUCHED HANDS. While watching Solène’s brother being brutally shot by his boyfriend, but hey, it’s not the WORST first date idea. And Solène’s CLINGING onto this girl she’s just met in that scene, after rushing herself in front of Peyrol’s line of fire to do it.

What makes me sad about them: Obviously, the lack of interaction between them, even though, on the positive side, it means the show can’t ruin it for me. Solène is hard as a character to write, because all three Solènes are written so very differently from one another that it’s hard to get a grip on her, especially since it’s obvious that the French really didn’t…CARE about her, as a character, and that also means that trying to get their dynamic can be hard. Like, I still feel after all this time that I don’t have them down as well as I have L/R, which is something that I’m always trying to rectify.

Also, from an in-universe perspective: I think…Solène is very like her brother, in the sense that she doesn’t see HERSELF as inherently inferior or incapable of love (the one thing no one has EVER accused the Mazurier Siblings of is a lack of confidence), but that so much has happened to her that she kind of takes it for granted that this isn’t going to end well. Our girl’s canonically lost her brother and father, she’s PROBABLY lost her mother (I mean, unless she’s just…living as a hermit somewhere since Ronan and Soléne ran away or left Papa Mazurier to become a famous adventuress, I think it’s a safe assumption), and it’s safe to assume she’s lost at least 2-3 siblings, if not more, and…as much as I’m against the idea of the Tragic Sex Worker, she’s also probably seen Things in her time on the streets. If nothing else, then sex work was very much a transitory job for many women, who would take it up in off seasons in-between other jobs (or marriage, for some women), so there are probably plenty of women who she knew and tried to get attached to who just…moved on.

And I think that Marie Antoinette’s ghost is always kind of going to be there, in the background, even as Olympe moves on from the full force of her old feelings. And Olympe has her own issues when it comes to loss, not just with Ronan (who was a friend if nothing else) and her mother (if we’re going with the musical-canon where Charlotte du Puget’s been dead for awhile), but also with probably seeing Louis-Joseph die in front of her.

things done in fanfic that annoys me: WHAT FANFIC? There’s so little of it available that it’s kind of impossible for me to find ANYTHING to really annoy me. The thing that annoys me when I’M writing them is that there’s this…odd tendency, with femslash, for things to be sanitized and clean and saccharine, as opposed to M/M and F/M ships. And, on one hand, I DESPISE that mentality, but on the other hand, I find that I’ve internalized some of that, even though realistically S/O have…so much that they could bicker over. If they wanted to. So I try to keep at least a realistic level of conflict in their relationship, without reaching R/O or even R/L levels.

things I look for in fanfic: Existing is always a lovely thing.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: Olympe/MA is always going to be a tragic crush for me; I’m not sure if it’d have worked in the long run as an actual RELATIONSHIP, but I’d be perfectly comfortable with Olympe being happy. Or accepting Artois’ offer, biding her time in London while slowly poisoning him so that she can retire in an obscene amount of wealth when the new king of France “tragically” dies only a few months into his new reign.

Even though I’m pretty attached to Olympe being a lesbian and Lazare being gay and/or ace, I’m also not OPPOSED to them marrying each other as a matter of convenience post-canon, though…obviously. After the Takarazuka and Toho productions, there are going to be…issues with that one. (Lazare is incapable of being with someone when he hasn’t at least tried to kill their father.) Matthieu Carnot and Camille Lou in the original cast had HELLA chemistry with one another, and I’m not entirely willing to toss it all away.

And for Solène…I’m not sure I’d go with ANYONE in the main cast. My main headcanon re: Solène and sexuality is that she’s bi, but the whole “Betrayal by her idiot of a brother” thing has really put her off the idea of being romantically involved with dudes for an extended period of time. Sexually? Sure, for the money involved. It’s her JOB, but she’s not going to go for anything that requires trust. Lucile is the obvious alternative, but I’m not sure how Lucile’s upper middle class upbringing would work with Solène and her profession, and the entire business with the engagement +…Lucile’s ultimate fate would work. (Also Lucile’s part in The Scene in the Toho version…it hasn’t put me off her as a CHARACTER, I still love her very much, but…it’s made me…less keen on her with Solène.) I also crackship her with Marie Antoinette. Marie Antoinette gets all the ladies in the main cast.

My happily ever after for them: In the canon verse? They leave Paris, either getting out of the country or quietly running into the country, where they can live in peace without the Reign of Terror getting them. They establish a domestic life together, where both of them learn to trust again, even as Solène keeps her own funds Just in Case, because some things are a little harder to move past than others. Lt. du Puget knows, but he’s been too traumatized by his own experiences with the Bastille, as well as too grateful to the Mazuriers for all they’ve done to raise a fuss, and he becomes like a second father to Solène, with Françoise being a sister and partner in crime to her. Solène doesn’t lose track of her friends in Paris and visits them from time to time, even as she gets used to middle class life, and she never entirely loses her fire. They both die of old age, many, many years after the Revolution (because, as we all know, Olympe does not die at the end, and there has never been a time where she died at the end; it is her destiny to outlive the rest of the cast with her girlfriend.) And then, in the afterlife, Solène gets at least one slap in on her brother before they’re one big, happy family again. Because he does deserve it, tbh.

Out of canon, I would honestly love to see a world where Solène/Olympe and Lazare/Ronan could have co-existed with each other as a family, albeit an insanely unorthodox one. I could see Olympe and Lazare having a marriage of convenience, with both of them having their own sections of the house that are just theirs, and with sex not even being a consideration. (Solène takes it more as a matter of course and the best possible option, even if she doesn’t LIKE Lazare; Ronan runs off and spends, like, a week crying somewhere before they can get him calmed down enough to explain.) Like, their wedding night is spent playing cards in bed until they can sneak out to their separate rooms, and at some point Ronan’s in-between them, drooling on Lazare’s shoulder while Solène glares daggers because if he hurts her girlfriend or her brother, she will not HESITATE to destroy him. Everyone knows that they’re gay AF and that a former under-governess to the royal family is sleeping with a former sex worker, mainly because Artois never shuts up about it (because if he can’t have Lazare under his thumb and he can’t murder the hypotenuse, he’s at least going to do his best to make his life miserable), but, does it matter? No. What are they going to do, not invite Lazare or Olympe to one of their salons? The horror, the horror. One year, for her New Year’s present, Ronan gives Solène a pair of earplugs so she doesn’t have to hear some of the ungodly sounds that come from his and Lazare’s side of the house. Everyone’s happy.

who is the big spoon/little spoon: See, my GUT instinct is Solène for big spoon, since it gives her a place of security without her feeling pinned in, but also I love the thought of Olympe sometimes taking over, nuzzling into Solène’s neck and having Solène wake up and being like “Holy shit, this is real” even years later.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: Taking walks together, reading. I like to think that Olympe helps Solène learn how to read (which is one of the areas where I feel like they differ from R/L. Even though I think Lazare would read out loud to Ronan, I’m not sure he’d go through the trouble of TEACHING him, especially since that’s…giving Ronan some serious power as far as being able to page through any of Lazare’s papers.) Sometimes, Solène just prefers to hear Olympe read out loud, with her absently putting her hand on Olympe’s arm as time goes on and she relaxes, since Olympe has a very bright, expressive voice that suited her well when she was an undergoverness, and even if she doesn’t mean to, she finds herself taking on different voices for different characters, which makes for an entertaining reading experience,. The two of them also help each other with their daily toilette, getting each other’s hair and clothes prepared.

This? Is an Olympe innovation.

And this? Is a Solène. She Tries. And Olympe loves her for it.

#1789 les amants de la bastille #olympe du puget #solène mazurier #solympe #I guess that's my new tag for them #berncat

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diaryofanormalkid · 6 years ago

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Today at work was nice ☺️

So aside from my hurt leg (knee and ankle), it was a decent day. People-wise though, not coworker wise. And time went by fast so I was glad.

Through the day, my leg was feeling better by the hour. Like I was even walking more normally. Pretty sure half my coworkers didn’t even notice I was injured.

Had it not been for me telling them, they probably wouldn’t have noticed. But I’m sooo glad it’s feeling better. I was thinking I wouldn’t feel this good until maybe Thursday.

So anyways, today at work I saw my short crush and my American Dragon crush and my ***work husband*** I CAN’T EVEN BELIEVE I saw him today!!! He doesn’t work Mondays 😁

I also saw short guy 🙄 and then his coworker who he trained who I’ll give you some background info on later probably. It was a very... interesting day.

Short crush

I got to see him twice today! They were both the briefest of moments though, and he didn’t really pay me as much attention as I’d like! ☹️😩

The first time he was leaving from the seating area of the cafetaria. I was sanitizing my hands at the dispenser and my body happened to be facing the direction he was coming from.

So I spotted him and smiled, and he looked at me, but for some reason today I didn’t hold eye contact with him for long at all. And now that I think about it, that probably has to do with why he didn’t give me too much attention today.

💔😬 yikes. I think he thought I was annoyed/in a mood today so he was giving me my space. ‘Cause the second time he came, when I spotted him he was closer but didn’t say/do anything.

He was at the cash register and I believe he saw me from where I was standing but decided against looking up, purposely. I was like “okay, that’s fine 😭.” And minded my business.

But I know for sure he saw me before I looked over at him the second time because I was in his line of sight. So next time, I’m gonna be more friendly, because that probably turned him off.

I’m not bugging, it just kinda hurt a little when the attention wasn’t reciprocated because he usually isn’t the one out of all my crushes to avoid making any gesture/eye contact.

American Dragon Crush

So today he came in a little after my shift started and at first he was super quiet, to the point where I didn’t even know he came in until a little while after.

Once I went nearby his area, that’s when I took the opportunity to greet him and using his name. I’m not sure, but I don’t think I use his name while greeting him often? So it felt weird.

But good weird. And immediately after I had used his name while greeting him, he did the same and I kinda felt my heart melt a tiny bit because that typically happens when my crushes use my name.

Then for a lot of the shift he was bothering by calling my name and I kept like half blushing. I had it under control, but half the time I didn’t care enough to hide my smile so 🤷🏾‍♀️

One time I was going back and forth getting stock items and looking for things and I just so happen to be passing by him all of those times. So then he eventually asks:

“Why do you keep going back and forth?” And I mumbled I needed to get stuff to him, because he was busy serving a customer anyways so I figured he probably wouldn’t need to hear me.

And then I was going on my break another time, so I was signing out and he kept asking me questions. He asked, “can I see your hair?” And then pulled a braid.

Then he asked, “How much was it? $120 right? How much to do a guy’s hair like that?” And as much as I very well knew he was kidding, I still answered back “the same amount.”

He kept talking to me trying to make the conversation last as long as possible. And I was like flattered but also I was like “okay I’m going on break now!” Just to warn him.

I was enjoying his company too though. So when I was leaving, he was in our mini-room where we kept our schedule and coats and whatnot.

As I was leaving, I was like pulling the door and I said “here, you stay there.” Trying to lock him in the room just to flirt or whateva 👀😬😌 not that I *cough* know how to flirt.

So eventually I let him out and then I signed out and he was still trying to talk to me as I walked off for break but I was ignoring him and pretending I couldn’t hear him lol.

Also during that time, he made the randomest comment about playing basketball and “getting all the girls” or something and I laughed because it was just super telling of what he was thinking about 👀🙄

While I was on break, my Apple music was on my Top 25 most played songs playlist and the song it went to was “Electric” by Alina Baraz ft. Khalid which is such an intense romance song?

Romance is not the right word, but sexy doesn’t really fit it for me either? So idk whatever the word is for the song, if you find it and also happen to read this and listen to the song, then pls reply the word!

But anyways, when that song of ALL songs came on during my break, I couldn’t but be in my feels about my all crushes! I was just in the zone, unbothered. So, going forward:

The recurring joke for the day between us was him, my coworker and I all asking the other person “what’s up?” In which I respond “the ceiling/the sky.” But usually “the ceiling.”

That’s actually my go to response with any person who asks me that, but today I tried it on him even though I’ve tried it on him before but today he wanted to be extra about it lol.

So he kept asking me that today only to get the same response every single time. When I passed him one time, he was calling my name repetitively while asking the question.

And my other coworker who was in on the joke was standing close by, so I told her, “yo can you tell him to stop bothering me and calling my name,” even though I didn’t care.

I actually liked it, but he didn’t need to know that. So fast forward a little later, the workplace was a little on the quiet side because a couple of my coworkers had left.

It was still busy, but only on occasion. It wasn’t like rush hour time or anything. Every now and then I would look up and peep he was looking at me. Or it’d be vice versa and he’d look up.

OR we both would look at each other at the same time but super briefly and then look away! And it’s such a nice feeling to know someone who you ~kinda~ like also likes you!

And I am also just surprised at my responses to him looking at me or being caught looking at him are not more alarmed than this. Like, I’m such a nervous person?

Crushes and the sort make me a hundred billion times more anxious than I already am so the fact that I don’t respond nervously to him in that way is... shocking!

By the end of the shift now, since I was on cash, I went to the back to start counting cash. And then he came around the corner to... honestly I don’t even know what.

To watch? To linger? Like he literally had no reason to be where I was tbh, so IK that was just another excuse to be in my company! Which I didn’t mind at all!

While he was there, he was asking me why I’m so tall... again! He always ask me that implying like “why are you taller than ME?” Or “if only I was a little taller...” in his mind.

Because I think he realizes since he’s shorter than me, I’m kinda like not interested enough. That sounds so shallow, but like he’s too short. Because I’m only like maximum 5’7”.

Even if he’s only an inch or two shorter than me, for a guy that’s just too short. And lowkey that’s just a dealbreaker for me. So that’s why I don’t take this crush too seriously 😟

Little does he know that his age is also a deal breaker too. LOL like I think he thinks if he was taller, that would fix all the dealbreakers between us but oh no honey, that’s not it.

I think he’s like a year and a bit younger than me, but it’s enough to be like a bit difference for me! I’ve always preferred older guys because *mature* hello, so going younger would just be backwards lol.

There’s a looot more serious things where those came from, so don’t think I’m shallow as heck or anything for like not wanting a serious relationship with him because of those.

He’s cute or whateva, but it stops there. Like I’m good luv. But ANYWAYS, him being short was not where I was going with telling my story. Moving on:

He was lingering while I was in the back counting my till, and he was like “must be in your genes” [my height]. And then I nodded and he brought up my mom is tall too.

She is only about an inch or so taller than me. But yeah, I guess if that’s tall to him? So I was like yeah, I guess. And then he was like “how tall is your dad?” And I said “6’3”” so he’s like “woahhh.”

And I was like, “yeah, but you should see my brother. He’s 6’6”, past my dad’s height.” And he was like “what? Now I’m so shy about my height.” Which lol is so cute bc I think he meant insecure?! 😂

So then he goes, “my mom is tiny, she’s like here on me,” gesturing to his shoulder. Which, he’s not wrong! His mom is TINY. So I agreed, and was like, “aww, yeah you’re right she’s so little.”

I asked him how tall his dad was and he was like “my dad’s shorter than me!” I wasn’t even surprised by that, he outgrew his parents thankfully but he’s still short for me lol.

He was like, “when we go out, ppl think we’re brothers.” And I laughed. Height was implied because I bet he definitely didn’t mean age- wise since we weren’t talking about that.

Anyways wherever the conversation left off, I don’t remember so that’s how my day went with him!

Work husband

This little entry is so underwhelming because nothing really happened but I’m still gonna write it because I’m surprised I even saw him today to begin with!

I usually only ever see him on Saturdays so when I peeped him in his turquoise blue uniform I took a double take and couldn’t believe my eyes!

He was walking all the way down the hall and I was staring awfully too hard to try to make out if it was him. I was on the phone though so I think that partly just made me seem preoccupied.

Gratefully he was far away, like I said, so I doubt he saw me staring. As he got closer, I was too scared to look in his direction so I shifted my body so that I wasn’t facing his direction.

As I was on the phone, I was trying to look for him when he passes by just to make sure it was him but I am like 90% sure it was him because there’s no one of his exact features and build here.

He passes by super quick and I was really sad because I wanted to see him for longer but I was leaving. Sucks that I only got to see him when I was going home.

I’m just glad I got to see him in general though! It was a kind of off day afterwards because I couldn’t stand my two coworkers who also happen to be siblings.

Whenever they happen to work together, it’s for the worst because they never do anything. They’re always sitting down/doing the bare minimum.

If there was anyone that deserved to be sitting down today, it would be me because I’M the one that is injured! Smh, they’re so pathetic and worthless.

And I think I did more work than both of them combined today. Not that that’s anything short of the norm, that’s to be expected tbh. I was gonna do my task regardless.

Otherwise I would’ve been suuuper bored the whole shift. Because I’m not one to strike up a convo with them because they’re my least favourite coworkers, in that section anways.

Like I can tolerate them, but I definitely don’t like them. And I’m sure as hell not going to try to talk to them if I don’t even like them. It’s pointless. I think the feelings are partially mutual.

Or at least, we’re just indifferent towards each other. And I have my own agenda I can tend to rather than try to become best friends with the managers kids... lol.

Like gross. How are you gonna have your kids work here and be the laziest ppl here? That is full on taking advantage of the system. And I’m pretty sure they get paid more than most ppl.

And they don’t even work enough hours to get paid more than half the people who they’re getting paid more than... so isn’t that like illegal or something?

If it’s true, I feel sorry for them almost. They’re spoiled and will never truly know what hard work is. Seems they’ve just been handed majority of the things they have.

Like literally today the son walked back from break and was wearing AirPods. So I was like, “you have AirPods too?” Not even out of envy or anything, just because another coworker does too.

And her and I were discussing how if I were to have them, I’d probably lose them so easily so it’s actually my choice not to invest in any. Like I am not envious that other ppl have them because I don’t want them.

But anyways, back to the managers son at work, he goes “oh yeah.” And I just smiled and shook my head at him because like duh, he WOULD have AirPods, what do you expect?

But yeah, so today I was just super annoyed at them both literally being okay with sitting around and doing nothing while I do 80% of the work because they’re used to it.

Like how are you okay with letting an injured girl the work for you while you do nothing? Sounds familiar! their mom works SOOO hard, has two jobs (maybe more) from what I know.

The son and older daughter have nice cars, their dad has a motorcycle and I’m SURE when the youngest daughter is ready to drive, she’s gonna have a car WAITING for her at their driveway.

I’m trying to be objective and think do I sound envious right now? Because I am not envious, at least I don’t think I am? I just am annoyed at how privileged they are but they don’t even do any work.

And they can get away with it too because it’s not like I can just call out the managers kids? Ones my age though, that’s the thing. It’s the son, and it’s a damn shame. Like do better?

The younger daughter just started working there and she lowkey does a better job than him at everything. She’s had her fair share of mistakes, we all have, but c’mon now.

How are you gonna let your little sister who’s younger than you by almost 4 years outlaws your own skills working at a minimum wage job?

Like I don’t even know how long he’s been working here, but I am just... so over him. I can’t wait until he quits already. He’s so useless sometimes, like I can’t.

I think some of the times he’s actually eventually intentionally set me up/sabotaged me for my shifts when I come in after him. It’s actually so messed up to think about.

But I automatically jump to worst case scenarios once it comes down to him and his family just because that’s... what it has come down to unfortunately.

I don’t know what they think of me exactly but I know how I’ve been treated by them and I’ll never give them the benefit of the doubt after they’ve been okay with how they treat me so..

Anyways lemme stop ranting on this post before I let all this negativity outweigh all the good that happened today. To end it off, I’d like to say:

I’m glad American Dragon Crush and my other coworker were there today to keep me sane because I really would’ve been in the worst mood all day if it hadn’t been for them.

American Dragon crush really did lift up my spirits so much. Like, I don’t know if he realizes how much he did today. I was in such a bad mood before he came when I think back now.

As for my other coworker, she’s always so friendly. Like thank God for her. She’s an angel sometimes. I don’t know how much I could tolerate this job in general if it weren’t for her.

Also shoutout to my mom for coming down to see me a couple times today. Every time she saw me, all she had to do was look at my face and she knew exactly what was wrong.

Why and who too! LOL. After worked we talked about it allll today, and she wasn’t surprised. Never is. With those two siblings, it’s always the same thing.

But she really kept me sane today too, even if I only got to see her for a little bit each time. Thank God for them all ☺️

#dang this turned out so much longer than i expected #i didn’t talk about short guy but quite frankly i don’t even want to #this is long enough to begin with #dear diary #diary #personal.#personal #crush #crushes #short crush #american dragon crush #tall blond handsome crush #coworkers #work husband #work #coworker

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sherrybaby14 · 7 years ago

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The Distraction

This is for @aquivercactus who requested a Dark!Steve Rogers where the reader is innocent.

A/N: This can be read more like a prologue since making a good guy a bad guy without going totally OOC usually requires one for me. Instead of writing one long story I’m splitting it in two.

Warnings: None/dark thoughts (Non-con Smut in the next chapter).

Pairing: Steve X Reader

Tags: @thecynicalnerd @marauderice @mac5323 @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers @negan--is--god @kellyn1604 @roschelesworld @taintedgenre @screeching-pterodactyl-fangirl @purplemuse89 @blondesouthsquad @buckyscrystalqueen @kawaiirepublic @captainemwinchester @xbergiex @bellaballanda @theariel85

Don’t move to New York. It’s dirty. When you arrived you bleached your tiny apartment from floor to ceiling and kept hand sanitizer on you at all times.

Don’t move to New York. The people are mean. You weren’t outgoing anyway, it was easy to keep to yourself. Who cares that you made no friends over the past year? You didn’t even keep in contact with the ones you had from back home. Your monthly phone calls to your parents turned into monthly e-mails after your latest nephew was born those dwindled too. They were busy with their newest grandson. You were never their favorite child.

Don’t move to New York. It’s dangerous. You tried a self-defense class, but it wasn’t for you. The thought of hurting anyone, whether they deserved it or not, was almost foreign to you. Besides, you would never react in time. Instead, you never left your apartment after dark, avoided eye contact with strangers and kept to yourself.

Don’t move to New York. It’s expensive. There was no denying that fact. Outside of your main career, you worked side jobs on the weekend. It was the easiest way to keep up with the rent and still have some money in savings.

For all the reasons not to live in the giant city, there were a few good ones. First of all, your main job was a great starting point, but soon after your arrival, you realized you were not stand out material. You didn’t think your bosses knew your name, every time you finished a project someone else took credit for your work. You had a feeling your bosses knew since they never fired you, but it also meant the odds of moving up were slim.

The second reason was the sense of freedom. You were the sixth of seven children in a strict household. Growing up you followed all the rules, but your parents seemed to pay more attention to all of your siblings. When you announced your decision to move outside of the four complaints above they just shrugged and waved you off. Now the only rules you followed were the ones you imposed on yourself, but you were starting to feel like they were stricter than the ones your parents enforced. Maybe the freedom was an illusion and you would have been better off moving back to the middle of nowhere. Nobody missed you or wanted you back though. You sighed and shook your head.

“Good morning Miss.” The man pulled a bouquet of flowers out of one of the black buckets in front of you. “How much for this one?”

“Thirty dollars.” You looked at the array of flowers, knowing the same bunch would cost five dollars top back in your hometown.

“Sheesh. Back where I’m from this would have cost a nickel.” The man laughed.

You looked up at him, sure the cheap paper the flowers were wrapped in would cost more than that. Your eyes locked with him for a split second and your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. You dropped your gaze, hoping he would not interpret your stare as rude. It was Steve Rogers, Captain America himself. You didn’t know how to respond. The last few months you manned the flower stand inside the lobby of Stark Towers on the weekend. Never once had you seen anyone famous, not that you paid attention to the people walking by, that would be rude.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He reached out and put a hand on your shoulder. “Are you alright?”

His hand felt like a burning weight. You lurched backward and nodded your head.

“I’m fine.” You kept your eyes on the ground. “I am sorry Sir, but I don’t set the prices.”

“That’s alright. I was only teasing.” Steve reached into his back pocket he set two twenties on the counter in front of you. “Thank you, and keep the change.”

You gave a small nod and grabbed the cash. Without lifting your head, you went to the register and dropped both bills inside. You thought you heard him let out a sigh as he turned away. You pinched your eyes shut, certain you’d just embarrassed yourself beyond reproach with America’s favorite son.

~~~

Steve cracked his jaw as he rode the elevator up. He didn’t like the way she flinched when he touched her, but outside of that, he enjoyed everything about their interaction. The way she kept her eyes down, how she was almost scared of him, and he particularly liked her use of the word Sir. He licked his lips at the memory and felt his cock grow in his pants. He shut his eyes and shook the memory away, having to save it for later.

The doors opened with a ding and Steve was not surprised to see Nat waiting for him on the other side.

“You’re late.” She unfolded her arms and started walking. “What’s with the flowers? One of your fans corner you?”

“No.” That was the reaction Steve normally got, which is what made Y/N’s response so intriguing. “You want em?”

“Come on, there has to be a special girl waiting at home for the Captain America to drop them off?” Nat glanced over her shoulder.

Steve plopped the flowers in a trash can as they continued walking down the hall, knowing the action would be enough of a response for Nat.

“Alright.” She looked forward. “I’ll stop asking.”

They arrived at the conference room and she pushed the doors open to show the rest of the team sitting around the table.

“Nice of you to join us.” Tony pointed towards the tech. “There’s only a terrorist at loose in the city we have to stop.”

“Why wasn’t I informed of this first?” Steve glared at Director Fury.

“You’re the one who wanted more privacy.” Tony twisted the chair. “You move out of the Tower, you don’t get information as fast. Now let’s stop swinging our dicks and listen to the details so we can form a plan.”

Steve scowled. Tony was right, but as Captain and the leader of the Avengers Steve should have been the first informed and already presenting his plan of attack. Once they had the situation under control he and Fury would be having a little chat.

~~~

“I TOLD YOU TO CUT LEFT!” Steve slammed his fist on the table. “Then like a showboat you have to move right. You almost got people killed!”

“But I didn’t.” Clint stood up from the table. “We stopped the bad guy with zero casualties.”

“No.” Steve shook his head. “We got lucky, running in there like a bunch of lone rangers! There was no teamwork, nobody paid any attention to the plan. All of you went after the man like you were there by yourself. That is NOT how a team works.”

Steve stood up straight and ran his hand over his head. Tony, Nat, Clint, and Fury all staring at him.

“Have you all lost your minds?” He looked around the room at the shocked faces. “Tony, you just ran into the man with your suit, what if he didn’t drop the detonator? The entire building would’ve blown!”

“But it didn’t.” Tony shook his head. “This is a win for us Captain.”

“Director Fury.” Steve went around the table. “You saw the footage. Admit that I am right, we are not working as a team.”

“It was a little rusty, I will give you that.” Fury held up his hands. “But this isn’t wartime. It’s peacetime. Your first mission of this level in months, I’m putting it in the win category.”

“It’s always wartime.” Steve didn’t understand how nobody else could see that. “If we let our guard down if we’re not prepared another one will pop up.”

“And what do you think we’re doing?’ Tony laughed. “Was today not being prepared? Stopping that from happening?”

Steve started to respond, but it was as if his voice caught in his throat. He stood agasp, unsure how to respond.

“I need some air.” Steve went straight to the balcony.

He leaned over the edge and tried to hide his disappointment at the team. Not only did they perform poorly, but then they couldn’t take criticism. What happened when a real threat hit? One even more severe than today? They would be crushed like ants.

“Hey.” Tony walked outside and leaned next to Steve.

“If you’re going to tell me I’m wrong you can save it.” The anger was out of Steve’s voice. “I won’t change my mind.”

“I know you won’t.” Tony spun around so his back was against the railing. “I don’t expect you to. But can I give you some advice?”

“I’m sure I’ve heard it before.” Steve turned around with Tony. The sun was starting to set, and he wanted to avoid the glare.

“See those people in there?” Tony pointed through the glass to Clint, Nat, and Fury. “They are as much type A personalities as the two people out here. If Banner and Thor were here today, that would make two more type As. Well, maybe not Thor, I’m not even sure what sort of personalities Asgard has.”

“So?” Steve was well aware he was competitive, controlling, task-oriented, maybe even hostile from time to time. Almost a textbook definition.

“So all of them have found ways to curb their less than pleasant personality traits.” Tony pushed up his sunglasses. “Clint focuses on his family, coaches every little league sport possible and those kids play like machines. Nat has a very active private life where she takes out her aggression on people who want to have it taken out. Fury spends every waking second worrying about and building SHIELD like it’s a precious baby. Banner focuses his energy on either finding a cure or helping starving children. I can’t keep it straight anymore.

“And I build shit in my spare time, which is every second I am not doing this.” Tony pushed off the railing. “What do you do Cap? The Avenger’s cannot be your only outlet or you will blow us up from the inside. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“You’re saying I need a hobby?” Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Not a hobby.” Tony started towards the door. “An obsession. One that will let you work out some of those control issues, so you don’t keep busting in here ready to take over a split heads open whenever things don’t go your way.”

Steve glanced around the room and noticed the three inside were saying goodbye. They all had other places to be and things to do. All Steve had on schedule for the evening was getting in a workout and reviewing the tapes from today’s mission, studying them for errors. He hated to admit it, but maybe Tony had a point.

“Do you have any suggestions?” Steve kicked off the balcony and followed Tony.

“I’m not sure.” Tony shook his head. “But I don’t think a guitar is going to cut it. You need something where you are in complete control, that requires a time commitment.”

Steve wasn’t sure if the idea had always been there, buried in the back of his mind, and Tony’s words just brought it to the forefront or if it was a branch new concept. He’d hoped for the later but was certain it was former. Maybe it was time to embrace that part of himself, the piece he denied existed for so long.

Hearing the words complete control made his pants twinge and one face come to mind. The girl who worked the flower stand.

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