#hell even do the same for val even though he seems to hold some frustration to the way he handles things in the long run ... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anagentinwriting · 3 years

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Lifeline - Part 17

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: 3800+

Warnings: Angst, violence, suspense, kidnapping

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Nat kept a watchful eye on Thor when he came back to the waiting room. He was twirling his phone in his hand when his eyes connected with hers; He shot her a hard glare before shaking his head. She grimaced, letting out a scoff and stood up a little straighter. She turned her attention back to assist Clint with asking routine questions to Bucky, Carol, and Val. Bucky’s eyes connected with hers, and he reached out, taking her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before letting go. She nodded, putting a strand of hair behind her ear.

Nat tried to focus on doing her job, but she was too close to this. You were one of her best friends, and she was scared for you in this situation. She wanted to believe what Thor was saying about Jig and Billy being the same person, but she needed proof or some sort of evidence, pointing them in that direction. Steve’s phone was the key to this, but she couldn’t go through it in case they needed it to use against him in court. She didn’t have a problem with lying, but if the defense found out what she did, she would be screwed and possibly lose her job. Billy deserved to be locked up for everything he did to you, and that cell phone would be another reason on a long list of reasons to lock him up. She wanted to protect you like Thor did, but it needed to be done right.

“Natasha,” Thor shouted, forcing her head to snap in his direction. He was heading their way with Sam behind him. “Sam can confirm Billy and Jig are the same person. He met Jig once.”

She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest. “Is this true, or are you making it up?”

“It’s true,” Sam nodded. “I met him one night at Happy’s. It was a quick meeting, but you don’t forget that white boy’s pretty face.”

Nat’s mouth dropped open, covering it with her hand in shock. Bucky was beside her, placing a reassuring hand on the small of her back. She looked over at him with tearful eyes as her mind drifted to the worst-case scenario. Bucky pulled her into a hug, and everything around her became white noise.

Billy got to you; he abducted you and almost killed Steve in the process. She squeezed her eyes shut, pulling Bucky closer. How did this happen? How did he even find you? How long has he been here? What was going to happen to you? All these unanswered questions flooded her mind until everything went silent. This was what she needed, evidence to find you and bring you home safe. Her eyes snapped open, pulling away from Bucky. She smirked at him, and his blue eyes narrowed at her.

“Keep me updated on Steve, will you?” She whispered, putting her hands on his cheeks.

He nodded. “As long as you do the same with YN.”

She kissed him, turning around and catching Thor’s eye. “Thor, let’s go.”

“Wait, what? Where?” Thor was looking between everyone as if asking if they had the answers.

“To find your sister, but we may have to ask for a little help.”

“But, I thought you weren’t technically on the case?”

“Small technicality. Nick will forgive me; I’m one of his favorites,” she winked, and Clint nodded in agreement. “Besides, I’m also a concerned friend of the victim, and I’m just following a possible lead. It could lead to something, or it might not.” Nat shrugged, looking over to Clint. “Cover for me?”

“It’s what I do best.”

“Let’s go get this bastard,” Thor stated, giving Nat a forgiving nod.

__________

The soft melody coming from the radio woke you up, but you didn’t move. A breeze hit your face, and the smell of the ocean hit your nose. A calm sensation came over you as you moved ever so slightly, feeling your hands bound, restricting your movement. Taking in another breath, a hint of familiar cologne came to your senses. You gulped, turning your head to what you hoped was a window. A sharp pain hit the side of your face, making you wince, causing your eyes to flicker open. The car sat parked near the ocean, and you could see the sun rising in the distance, cascading a soft glow over the landscape. You glanced at your hands, seeing a zip tie wrapped around them. You gulped, looking over to the driver’s seat to find your ex-husband wrapping his wrist. Your eyes widened as your mind flashed to him on the other side of the door, Steve laying motionless on the ground, the struggle in your condo, Cosmo attacking, and a punch to your face that knocked you out cold.

“Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?”

“What… what did you do?” You stammered, feeling tears start to form in your eyes.

He smirked, taping the gauze on his wrist. “I think the better question is what did you do?” You narrowed your eyes, wincing as a sharp pain traveled alongside your face. Your hand shot to your face, touching the tender area between your eye and cheekbone. “I warned you what would happen if you left. People would get hurt, but you didn’t listen.”

“Is he dead?”

“Who? Steve? Would it make a difference if he was?” He quirked an eyebrow as your bottom lip trembled, staring out the window at the ocean. “I wouldn’t worry about him anymore.”

“Why did you do that?” Your voice cracked as a sob escaped from your mouth. “He was a good man.”

“Steve was a great guy. I didn’t want to hurt him. I liked Steve. He was one helluva pool player, and we were friends,” he paused, your head snapping in his direction. “But, when he put his hands on you. I wanted to kill him.” Billy clenched his fists, shaking his head. “Steve doesn’t deserve you. He was never good enough for you. Hell, he was just using you to get over his dead wife.” He let out a breath, his dark brown eyes connected with yours, sending a shiver down your spine. “If you stayed home and didn’t leave me, we wouldn’t be in this situation right now. Steve wouldn’t be dead because of you.”

Your stomach dropped, with tears threatening to fall down your cheeks. You squeezed your eyes shut as the sharp pain radiating from your cheek was welcoming compared to what you were feeling inside. You swallowed down a sob, but your shaky breath didn’t dissipate. Your head clouded up, blocking out any other sound besides your racing heart. You slowly opened your eyes, trying to blink the tears away, but a few escaped down your cheeks and landed on your jeans. You stared at the wet droplets, unable to move, only being able to concentrate on your breathing. You sniffled, clearing your throat. “How long have you been watching me?”

“Does it matter?” He arched a brow at you. “I will give you some credit though, leaving that note saying you and Loki took an impromptu trip together. At first, I didn’t think much of it. I mean, you two are attached at the hip, so I knew you would be back in a few days, but you never did come home. Even after I saw Loki’s posts about being back home, but still no you. ” He leaned back in his seat, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

“The most frustrating part of all was that you never returned my calls, which led me straight to Loki, and he told me you were staying with him for a few more days. I thought, ‘Alright. I get it. You want some time.’” He sighed, shaking his head. “After a few more days of no new texts and no returned phone calls. I decided to sneak into Loki’s and quickly realized you weren’t staying there. In fact, it looked like you were never there. Then I proceeded to go to your work, which I now realized I should’ve done to begin with because I discovered you quit.” He paused, hitting the steering with your palm, making you jump in your seat.

“It was embarrassing to find out your wife left you in front of her co-workers.” He clenched his jaw, staring daggers at you. “This led to me tracking your phone, but it never did tell me where you were.” He smirked. “I am almost positive it involved an anti-tracker app. Smart play.” He nodded. “Nice to know you learned a few things from me during our time together, but I’m surprised you didn’t think I wouldn’t be able to find you?”

“Who's to say I didn’t,” you countered, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

He cackled in the seat next to you, shaking his head, and in one quick motion grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him. You tried to jerk away, but he tightened his hold. All the mischief in his eyes was gone, replaced with his harsh gaze. He clenched his jaw, making you gulp and stare into the depths of his emotionless eyes. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? Running off to your big brother, thinking he would protect you. It’s cute really, but deep down, he didn't do his job the first time, let alone this time. He didn’t protect you. He didn’t keep you safe. It’s comical, just how easy it was to get you back.” He scoffed, licking his lips. “And Loki’s all the same. They’re both egoistic, self-absorbed, and out for themselves. It’s poetic, how you were always there for them, but they were never there for you like I was.” He reached over and dragged his fingers against your cheek. You clenched your jaw, pulling away from his touch.

“What do you want from me?” You mumbled, observing him from the corner of your eye.

He sighed, dropping his hand. “Isn’t it obvious? I want you to come home where it is safe. Come home to someone who actually cares about you. My god, YN, you have no idea how much I have missed you and….and I’m sorry,” he confessed as his voice cracked. Your head snapped in his direction to see him running a hand through his hair. “I was an asshole for how I treated you, and I can’t believe I became that person.” His gaze caught yours, noticing his lips trembling. “I told you I would change, but I didn’t, and I don’t know why.” He paused, clearing his throat. “I want to change, but I don’t think I can do it without you. I need you. You have always believed in me more than I believed in myself. I don’t want to lose what we have together. Please come home to me. I forgive you for running. I want to start over, start fresh, start that family you always wanted. Anything; I will do anything,” he begged with tears on the verge of falling.

You swallowed, staring wide-eyed at him, not knowing what to say. Billy has always been a confident talker, telling you what you wanted to hear and making all the right promises. He could coax you into coming back every time you left him with his caring apologetic words. You believed you could trust him time and time again. He could persuade you into getting what he wanted, not what you wanted.

You rubbed your lips together, knowing what you should say or at least what he wanted you to say. But, you didn’t need him anymore, like he needed you. You moved on, and in this moment, he couldn’t control you anymore. “I want to start a family, Billy.” His shoulders sank in relief as a smile crossed his features. “But, I don’t want it with you. I don’t want anything to do with you. Our relationship is a repeating pattern that causes both of us pain. I can’t do this with you anymore,” you breathed, your eyes flickering to his; they changed from sincere and honest to dark and destructive in a matter of seconds.

He brought his hand down his face, shaking his head. “You don’t get to say when this is over. I do.” He let out a deep breath and slapped you across the face. You yelped, sending a shooting pain down your same cheek, bringing tears to the corner of your eye. You leaned away from him, reaching for the door handle, and tried to push it open, but he grabbed a hold of you and held a knife to your throat.

“STOP MOVING,” he grunted through clenched teeth. You quit squirming and stared at the blade against your throat. “It didn’t have to come to this. ” He clenched his jaw, grabbing the passenger seat belt and strapped you in. He leaned forward, his breath fanning against your ear as he whispered, “I have a plan, but unlike yours, it will work.”

____________

Thor and Nat walked through the doors of your dispatch center. Thor’s eyes scanned the many individuals typing away at their screens and talking into their headpieces. It was a different scene than what he was used to. It felt calmer and less hectic, but on the other end of the calls, he could only imagine what people were going through.

Bruce made eye contact with them, holding up his pointer finger as he helped one of the dispatchers at their desk.

“Bruce, busy man,” Thor chuckled, and Nat hummed in agreement.

“Thor, Nat, hi. Any news? Have the police found anything?” Bruce asked, walking over to them.

“Don’t get me started on the police. At YN house, they were walking around finding clues and placing their little yellow numbers by them, and taking pictures. Like, what is that going to do? They should be out looking for her since I already told them who abducted her, but no one believed me.” Thor shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Calm down, big guy, it’s called procedure, and we were finding evidence.” Nat patted him on the shoulder before turning to Bruce. “Anyways, we came to ask for a favor, and we think you could help us with it.”

“Name it,” Bruce nodded, putting his hands in his pockets.

“We need to track this number, but the fastest way without a warrant is to go through dispatch, or so I heard,” Nat hinted, raising her eyebrows.

“What is it? Landline or cell phone?”

“Cell phone.”

“Cell phones are trickier since we don’t get an automatic address like we do with landlines. Our system has to digitally request the phone’s location from the cellular network. I will have to put in a manual request, which won’t be a problem, it will just take some time,” Bruce stated, going over to one of the computers. “What’s the number?” Thor read the number off his phone as Bruce typed it in and quickly filled in the necessary information.

___________

Billy pulled into a gas station and parked the car behind it. He reached behind your seat, hearing him shuffle around and come forward with a scissor, wet nap, and a baseball cap. He cupped your face in his hands, using the wet-nap to wipe your face. You squeezed your eyes shut, ignoring the pain on your cheek. “There’s my girl, all cleaned up.” He lifted your head with his finger and tilted it in all directions. He grabbed ahold of your bound hands, cutting the zip tie from your wrists. “Put this hat on, and just know, if you run, you don’t want to know what I will do.”

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. He squeezed your hands before getting out of the car and coming around the front to get you. He opened the door, instantly putting his arm around your shoulder, leaning into you. You tensed up, smelling the all-to-familiar cologne that sent your nerves firing in warning. It was a cologne you loved, having picked out for him when you first started dating, but now it filled your head with many unpleasant memories.

“Loosen up, hon, you can trust me,” he whispered in your ear, hitting the bill of your hat, making you readjust it.

You gave him a hard nod, forcing a tight smile. He let go of you as someone was walking out, holding the door for the two of you. You looked the man straight in the face, hoping he would take a look at you and help in some way, but Billy mumbled a quick thanks and took your hand. You glanced at the guy behind the register, but he stared down at his phone while Billy dragged you to the drink coolers.

“What do you want?”

“Can I run to the bathroom? Can’t pick anything on a full bladder,” you smirked, squeezing his hand.

“Of course, make it quick,” he nodded, letting go of your hand.

You walked back up the aisle and down another, glancing at the man behind the counter, who was still staring down at his phone. Keeping a watchful eye on Billy, you snatched a set of permanent markers from the shelf and hid them in the front of your pants and under your shirt. You took one last peek over your shoulder to see Billy’s eyes following you and opened the door to the ladies restroom.

You locked the door and leaned against it, taking in your surroundings, but there was nothing that could help you. It was a single stall bathroom with no windows. How come the only bathrooms that ever seemed to have windows were in the movies. You sighed, rubbing your forehead. There weren’t many options left: leave a note and hope someone sees it and gets help. It felt silly, but what did it hurt? You pulled the markers from the front of your pants and grabbed a brown paper towel, scribbling out a message and placing it by the sink along with the markers.

Gripping the edge of the bathroom counter, you let out a deep breath, staring down into the semi-dirty sink. You removed your hat, running your hand through your hair, and looked up at your reflection in the mirror. It was like you were right back to where you started, staring at the fragile woman you thought you left behind. The color around your right eye was changing to a dark black and blue, your cheek was puffy, and there was a small cut on your lip.

“You can get through this,” you reassured yourself, splashing cold water on your face. “Someone is looking for you.” Splash. “Someone will find you.” Splash. “Steve isn’t dead because of you.” Splash.

You stared at the water flowing out of the faucet as images of Steve started filling your mind. His signature smirk, his chest-grabbing laugh, his caring yet determined personality, and how he... Tears began forming in the corner of your eyes, blurring your vision. You squeezed them shut, sniffling, before opening your eyes to your reflection. “No crying; not yet at least; first, you need to make it out.” You cleared your throat, promising yourself with a nod. You slipped the hat back on and opened the door, jumping in surprise to find Billy waiting there.

“Grabbed your favorites,” he grinned, holding them up. You forced a smile, following him to the register. Billy placed the drinks, snacks, and a few wound cleaning supplies on the counter. You smirked, remembering Cosmo’s rescue efforts. The front door jingled, pulling your attention to a mother and her young daughter walking in.

“Okay, Monica, run to the bathroom, and I’ll grab us some snacks.” You let out a small sigh of relief, smirking at them going their separate ways.

“We should start a family once we settle into our new home,” he whispered into your ear with a smirk on his lips.

“New home?” You questioned, narrowing your eyes at him.

“It’s part of my plan.” He wiggled his eyebrows, paying the man with cash. “You always wanted a family; why not start now.” He shrugged, leaning into you. He smiled at the clerk, grabbing the bag and holding out his other hand to you. You took it, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

Billy dragged you back out to the car and let go of your hand. He opened the back door while you headed for the passenger side door. “Wait, don’t get in; we’re switching cars. He should be here any minute.”

“Why?”

“I’m sure the police already have the make and model of this car through surveillance video or the license plate number from the note you left in the ladies room.”

“What note?”

“Don’t play stupid. I’m not an idiot, besides why else would you be smirking at a mother and daughter,” he sneered while a car pulled up beside them. “Speak of the devil, right on time.”

A Rolls Royce Wraith pulled up, forcing you to roll your eyes. This was his getaway car, more than a quarter of a million-dollar car, and he expected to get away with you. It was the same car he owned in New York, but this one had updated California license plates. A bald man got out of the driver's side, coming over to you and Billy. It was hard not to be creeped out by him, with a milky left eye and a scar underneath it.

Billy’s phone buzzed once more in his hand. He looked down at it, letting out a quiet snicker. He read off the abduction alert, including your name, what you looked like, and what you were wearing last. “Turns out you got someone looking for you after all. It’s a shame they aren’t going to find you.”

You gulped, noticing the bald man smirking. “As requested, your new phone--” he handed Billy a flip phone while Billy handed him his smartphone “--with a few contacts that you can trust and help you if it’s necessary. And everything you requested is in the back seat, but knowing you, Billy, you two have already disappeared.”

Your breathing quickened at his words, your eyes darting between the two men shaking hands. Billy had the perfect plan, and you were stepping right into it. You were going to disappear, become a ghost, and no one was going to be able to find you. Your defeated eyes caught Billy’s, not missing the amusement dancing in his. You bit your lip, staring into the distance, hoping the daughter saw your note and called the police. But it dawned on you that help wasn’t coming, which left you with two options: start over and try to be happy with him, or adapt and overcome.

“Thank you for your help, Agent Orange. I’ll owe you one.” Orange nodded at Billy, walking over to the previous car before getting in and driving away. “Well, get in, honey. It’s time to go on our road trip.”

___________

AN: Thanks for reading Part 17! This doesn't sound like it will be a fun road trip, and from the looks of it, Billy seems to be one step ahead of her with every move she makes. How is she gonna out think him? If you haven't noticed already, Billy is a real piece of work, and I'm hoping he came off as a psychopath in this part. If not I tried my best, it's hard to tap into a dark mindset like that! Haha! I will say though, Ben Barnes, who plays Billy Russo, is an attractive man, but I will admit his brown eyes can get scary dark sometimes. Like when he's mad, you can just see it in his eyes, so I tried to play off that. And it seems like he has a buddy helping him, Agent Orange, I wonder how they know each other? Also, we kind of have a better understanding where Nat's head was at at the end of the last part. She was worried about her friend and wanted everything to be done right, and put Billy away for good. And what do you think of her and Thor teaming up to find her? And can't forget that little assist from Bruce, but will they be able to find her before she disappears forever or will something worse happen along the way? Is Steve gonna pull through? And man, I sure hope Cosmo is doing okay! Until next week, thanks again!

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moskaisley · 4 years

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thin walls

gif cred: @mrpascals

rating: NC-17 lol

word count: 3.1k

warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT!! 18+ !! graphic depictions of sex, auralism, mentions of alcohol, jealousy, dumb oblivious clownery, a lil pining, a smidge of angst at the end u know me

a/n:

this is a side story for my ongoing series “migraine” !!

i NEEDED to write something fun since the last part of migraine was so angsty. i really wanted to just explore them having fun together and being bros!!! just vibin!!! being young and dumb!!! and ofc their obvious sexual tension before migraine girl and mando started their romantic relationship. idk when part 5 will be out since i have finals next week, but i definitely dont want to wait a month to post it LOL

for now, enjoy this fun and sexy romcom bullshit

summary:

“You’re the worst wingman ever,” You tease as you kick his calf lightly.

He kicks you back, “Look, the night isn’t over yet. I bet I can get at least one of these people to talk to you.”

You ponder over his challenge for a moment, and then shoot him a mischievous grin. Reaching into a pouch on your belt, you slap some credits onto the table.

“Spoils go to the winner,” you say with a smile, “You have one shot. Blow it and we both go home, casanova.”

ao3 link

A rough shove from behind nearly had you on your ass in the middle of the firefight. A blaster shot whizzes by your head, nearly clipping you as you struggle to maintain your balance. Another shot goes off, and you hear a body crumple to the ground. You snarl as you bring your elbow around, only for it to be caught by a strong hand.

“Easy!” Qin’s voice echoes in your ears, “A ‘thanks’ would be nice.”

You scoff, roughly tearing your arm from his grip, “I nearly sliced you in half, crazy bastard.”

“Oi, don’t get all riled up, sweetheart. If it weren’t for me, you’d be dead.”

“I’m not your fuckin’ sweetheart, Qin.”

He grunts, waving you off in annoyance. Rolling your eyes, you turn around to proceed forward, ready to berate your beskar clad partner for not watching your back. Yet, to your frustration, The Mandalorian is already far down the hallway, Xi’an bouncing in tow.

You’re not jealous.

You say it to yourself when you wordlessly slip away from your coworkers upon returning to one of Ran’s hangars, ignoring their confused looks and the “Oh Mando, you’re so in trouble” from Vidar. You say it to yourself when you lazily bonk your head against the shower wall in frustration, and you nearly scream it when you hear Xi’an’s breathy giggles from his bunk.

This had been going on for weeks now.

A scrap sheet of durasteel could probably muffle more sound than the current wall you shared with the Mandalorian. And while for the most part, he was a respectful neighbor, it was times like these that you wished you could throw yourself into dead space. The first time you confronted him about the noise, it was almost cute at how awkward he was in apologizing to you. That night, amidst the wanton moans and cries of ecstasy coming from next door, you kept hearing him shush the Twi’lek in that gentle, gravelly voice of his. Even then, every noise still drifted into your bunk, but you decided to be merciful and save him any more embarrassment by keeping quiet. (You made a note in your head, though. He so owes you for this.) Instead, you picked up an old busted radio from the market, fixing it up and tuning in during crises like these. It only connected to one station, but you’d take Val Syko’s Quenk Jazz Jams over the sounds of your partner’s pleasure any day.

But tonight, drowning in the funky sounds of Val’s extensive music collection wasn’t doing it for you. Mando’s groan echoes dully off the walls of your room, and your thighs instinctually press together in an attempt to quell the warmth pooling at your core. You press your fingers to the bridge of your nose. It was unfair, really. Mando was getting action at least once a week, yet your pool kept coming up empty, and you refused to fuck around with any of your current colleagues. Sighing, you check your watch; the night is still young and therefore, incredibly long. Your eyes dart over to your tiny closet, pursing your lips together in apprehension. Another one of Xi’an’s moans rings in your ears.

You know what? Fuck it.

It’s almost comical how the ship falls into abrupt silence when you knock on his door.

“I’m going out,” you say quickly before he could open the door. Silence follows and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t wait up. I’ll be late.”

You’re not sure why you thought your luck would change tonight.

You were nursing your second drink, lazily twisting the straw in the glass and scanning around the cantina for anyone who could catch your eye. On your first round, there was a cute redhead who gave you a sweet compliment on your outfit, but your hope died when she slipped into a booth next to her boyfriend on the other side of the room. You let out a long, exasperated sigh, letting your head drop as you squeeze your eyes shut. This was a dumb idea. You’re gonna be listening to those two all night while Val plays that one song from Mooneyes for the thousandth kriffing time–

“Is this seat taken?”

You groan loudly at his stupid fucking modulated voice.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Mando slips into the stool next to you, leaning against the bar as he tilts his head.

“I wondered where you ran off to.”

“I can have my fun too, Mando.”

“Clearly,” he quips, gesturing to your lonely exasperated form, huddled over your drink.

“You’re so annoying, you know that?”

You shove him and he laughs, head shaking at how easy you are to tease. Rolling your eyes, you take a sip from your drink. He shuffles a little, subtly leaning to the right, visor skimming over your backside. You smirk, catching him in the act.

“Hey!” You snap your fingers in front of his helmet, “Eyes up here, tin can.”

Pushing your hand to the side, he takes the hem of it in between his fingers and says, “I didn’t know you had clothes like these.”

“What? This old thing?”

Though your lifestyle didn’t allow for a big wardrobe, there were a few times you would indulge yourself in some of the finer things. The dress was oxblood in color, made of soft velvet with a high neck and open back. It hugged your body snugly, ending just above your knees with a leg slit that traveled up your thigh. It took a decent chunk from your paycheck, and you were so compelled to buy it that you didn’t even consider where you’d wear it. But you loved the way it made you feel, and it was a lovely change of pace from the typical bounty hunter getup you often sported.

“It looks nice on you,” he tells you, nonchalantly.

You swallow hard as his gloved fingers brush against your thigh. Dizzying warmth washes over you. What the hell? Drunk already?

“Thanks.”

“What’s the occasion?” He asks you, releasing his hold on your dress.

You shoot him a sardonic smile as you raise your glass, as if you’re toasting.

“I’m taking applications for a new partner. My old one was too busy getting his dick wet and I almost got shot. Had to be saved by Qin, of all people.”

“I dunno, Qin could be a worthy candidate. He seems to be very friendly with you, too.”

“Are you insane? He’s a kriffing psychopath. Almost as crazy as your girlfriend.”

“Hey, she’s not–”

You cock your brows at him and smirk.

He playfully punches your arm as you take another sip.

“Alright, alright. I get it,” he says as you laugh at him, “Let me make it up to you. Are you trying to go home with someone tonight? I can be your wingman.”

You snort at the thought, “Yeah right. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Mando but you’re not exactly the most approachable person. And besides, no one here is really catching my eye. I think I’m just gonna go.”

You’re moving to stand up and pay until he grabs your arm to keep you still.

“No, wait. C’mon, stay. Lets–Let’s just have some fun.”

You smile earnestly at him; Mando’s insistence to spend time with you genuinely warms your heart, so you lean back to your seat and flag down the bartender.

Though a second set of eyes helped in checking out people that you may have overlooked, it kind of defeated the purpose when that set of eyes was known for being one of the fiercest warriors throughout the galaxy. You thought you were able to catch the eye of a particularly dashing fighter pilot, exchanging flirty glances and a little wave. But the second he saw you in an exchange with a Mandalorian, he was quick to dash out the cantina without so much as saying a word to you. Mando kept insisting you both stay, denying that his intimidating armor had any effect on your chances of getting laid.

“Mando, I’m telling you this in the nicest way possible, but you’re scaring people off.”

“Maybe they just like what they see.”

“You’re the worst wingman ever,” You tease as you kick his calf lightly.

He kicks you back, “Look, the night isn’t over yet. I bet I can get at least one of these people to talk to you.”

You ponder over his challenge for a moment, and then shoot him a mischievous grin. Reaching into a pouch on your belt, you slap some credits onto the table.

“Spoils go to the winner,” you say with a smile, “You have one shot. Blow it and we both go home, casanova.”

Needless to say, he fails. Miserably.

The first person he goes up to must’ve been guilty of something. Because as soon as the Mandalorian stalks around the corner to his seat, the poor soul tosses his drink at him and dashes out the door. The metal man stands for a second in shock, and you see his shoulders slack as he lets out a defeated sigh. He rounds the bar back to you, Corellian rum dripping off his helmet and all over his beskar. Your stomach hurts trying to suppress the laughter building inside you, but you couldn’t help it. Your hand flies to your mouth as you snort loudly, laughing so hard that tears almost form in your eyes. You didn’t expect the night to go this way and your endeavors for a hookup had failed terribly, but it still made you happy to spend time with your friend all the same.

“That wasn’t fair. Let me try again.”

You struggle to form a response between your laughs, “No–no way! I–I can’t watch that again.”

“C’mon, I didn’t even get to try. Gimme another chance.”

You shake your head, taking your credits off the table and slipping them back into your pouch.

“Nope, rules are rules, Mando. Let’s just get outta here.”

“No way, I refuse to give up so–”

“She asked you to leave, buddy.”

You turn to look at the new voice, confused and a bit irritated for interrupting your exchange with Mando. You’re met with green eyes, strong shoulders, sexy scruff, olive skin, and a very dashing smile. Your retaliation dies in your throat, and your lips curl into a smile. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Mando didn’t pick up on this though, “No, it’s not like that. We were just–”

“He was just going, actually. Right, Mando?” You look back at him and give him a wink, “I think I’ve had enough of you today.”

His helmet tilts upward in surprise, and then he chuckles lightly.

“Okay, then.”

He slides off his stool, gesturing to it for your new friend before walking out of the cantina. You watch Mando walk out the door, and the man takes over his seat.

“Was he bothering you?”

“No, actually,” You give him a sweet smile, “He’s a friend.”

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, “Friends with a Mandalorian, eh? What’s that like?”

“Well, they make awful wingmen,” you joke.

“Is that so?”

“Why? Looking to take his place?”

“No, I’m here to buy you a drink.”

Catching your bottom lip with your teeth, you smile and your heart flutters.

“What’s your name?”

“Deo.”

He presses you up against the wall of the cantina outside, hands snaking up your waist and lips pressing hard against yours. Deo grabs and pulls at your flesh, slipping his tongue in your mouth and you moan against him. It’s been so long since you’ve felt someone this way, and it makes your skin sing in pleasure. When he pulls away, he keeps his forehead up against yours, breaths labored and heavy.

“So, mine or yours?”

A devious grin crosses your lips, “Mine.”

“Lead the way, sweetheart.”

You take his hand into yours, clinging to his arm for balance. The drinks have finally caught up to you and there’s a pleasant buzz warming your body as you try your best not to stumble through the streets. As you make it back to the Razor Crest, you stop in front of the side gate, opening the hatch as Deo’s hand meets the small of your back. You pull him up into the loading dock, and he digs his face into your neck, biting at the skin as you press buttons on the door panel. When it shuts, he pushes you up against the wall of the ship, sucking at the skin beneath your jaw and grinding his pelvis up against your ass. You try to suppress a mewl, as you push off the wall and turn to him.

“Not here,” you whisper.

“Why not here?”

A muffled whimper comes from further away, and both of your heads abruptly turn to the source of the noise coming from behind Mando’s door.

Deo looks back to you, brows furrowed, “You sure this ship is yours, honey? Looks occupied.”

“Roommate. He won’t bother us, though.”

You shove him off of you and saunter over to your own bunk door. You turn around and beckon him to come with a single finger.

“C’mere.”

Your dress, along with Deo’s clothes, was left forgotten on the ground of your tiny room. He was quick to the draw, pulling your legs up so they wrapped around his hips and holding your ass for support. He pressed you up against the wall, pushing his cock inside you. You moan loudly, relishing in the feeling of his length filling up your pussy and the pressure of him crowding you against the metal.

And that’s when you realize–

Deo is fucking you up against the wall you share with Mando.

The mere thought of it makes you clench tighter around him and the smile on your face is downright devilish. Your partner can hear every lewd noise you make, just as you’d heard his, and it drove you crazy. Your body flushes with heat, wetness pooling at your core. Your arms pull Deo tighter against you, burying him deeper inside and mewling against his neck.

“Maker, you think he can hear you, honey?”

“Probably,” You let a breathy laugh against him, “Thin walls.”

A distinctly modulated groan echoes from behind you and you can’t suppress the grin that spreads along your lips.

Bastard.

You pull at the base of Deo’s neck, and guide his head to your chest. He nips and sucks at your collar bone, leaving another mark along your skin. Lifting a hand from your ass, he brings it to your breast, kneading it in his hands and running his thumb over your nipple. You whine as he begins to pinch it in between his fingers while he fucks up into you. Coincidentally, Mando’s moans reach your ears again only seconds later.

So we’re playing this game, are we?

You squeeze Deo’s shoulder, the knot in your lower belly getting tighter and tighter the more you focus on the noises coming from the next room over. You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help the image of your partner holding you like this, fucking you relentlessly against the wall you shared. You wonder if he looks anything like Deo; does he have the same green eyes? Or are they brown? What about his lips? How do they feel against yours? Your neck? Your cunt? You imagine that it’s his hands clutching and squeezing your soft flesh, his cock stretching you open, his stupid fucking voice whispering praises in your ear.

“F–Fuck! I’m gonna cum,” you panted, pressure building up inside you, aching for release.

You swore, you heard Mando’s breath hitch behind you.

“Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum all over my cock.”

You nearly scream as you come undone around Deo, waves of pleasure washing over you. In your haze, a single thought crosses your mind: Mando was chasing his own release as well.

You know it, you feel it.

So you moan again.

“I had a good time tonight.”

“I did too.”

You hug your body tightly, the air of the hangar was cool against your skin, and you were clad in only a thin shirt and shorts. Deo is holding your upper arms, smiling softly at you as you shivered.

Brushing a strand of hair away from your face, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“We should do this again sometime,” he whispers against your skin, “Maybe, somewhere without your little roommate?”

You giggle, warmth heating up your cheeks.

“We’ll see.”

He bids you goodnight, and you walk back into the Crest, shutting the ramp behind you. You’re turning to go to bed when the sound of your partner’s door makes you freeze. The Mandalorian emerges, free of his beskar armor save for his helmet. He stops when he sees you, surprised by your presence at this hour. You stare at each other in silence for a few moments.

And then you snicker, and he does too.

A pleasant feeling blooms in your chest at the sound of his laugh. You take a few steps closer to him, letting your arms fall to your sides.

“So,” he begins in a low voice, “You didn’t hear any of that, right?”

“Hear what?” You ask him, innocently, “I was a little preoccupied.”

“Really? I didn’t notice.”

You hold a hand against your mouth and giggle.

“So,” he murmurs, “Who was he?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Mando cocks his head to the side, and you swear you see a glint of mischief flash along the t-shape of his visor.

“Well, if I’m not mistaken,” he starts, taking a step closer to you. Your heart picks up in pace.

He gently pushes aside the collar of your shirt to reveal deep red marks blooming along your neck. Your stomach flips at the feeling of his bare fingers along your collarbone. Your throat goes dry.

“You owe me some credits.”

He stays still like this for a moment, and you take a deep breath, his touch feeling electric against your skin. When he goes to remove his hand, it’s instinct when you reach for it, clutching it and holding it in place. You feel him tense beneath you as your fingers wrap his palm. You swallow hard, drinking him in beneath the lowlight of the ship: the shine of his dumb helmet, how he towers over you, the warmth of his presence.

You squeeze his hand, and to your surprise, he squeezes it back. His thumb traced over your fingers, and in your boldness, you gently pull it towards your cheek.

“Mando?” you hear Xi’an’s voice call from his room.

You shut your eyes tight, heart dropping to your stomach. Her call felt like ice water dumping over you, killing the warm, fuzzy feeling that engulfed you only moments earlier. You drop his hand quickly. You hug yourself, fingers buzzing so wildly with nerves, you need to hold it close to keep your hand from shaking. You clear your throat and shoot him a weak smile, avoiding his gaze. Bristling past him, you stop in your doorway and whisper.

“Goodnight, Mando.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

i imagine deo as jake gyllenhaal when he played mysterio just less of a crackhead. :)

taglist

@bella-ciaao @tiffdawg @peggers-n-beggers @sinnamon-bunn @adlerorzel-blog @theocatkov @paryl

thank u for reading, space cowboys <3

#migraine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian/reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #din djarin/reader #IT'S ALMOST 5AM WE WILDIN OUT HERE #I DID THIS INSTEAD OF DOING MY FINALS WOOO HOOOO #ok gnight i have class in like 5 hours

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incidentreport31 · 3 years

Text

Episode 2 - Secure TRANSCRIPT

[You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts.

Recorder clicks on.

SFX of a mug being set down on a counter. Water pouring and then the clink of a spoon against ceramic. Then, an abrupt almost dropping of said mug as Zach begins to speak.

ZACH:

Tea? Really?

ARCHIVIST:

(stammering)Oh, hi, hello, can… can I help you…?

(beat)

ZACH:

You can help yourself by getting some coffee. Tea isn’t gonna do anything for you, you know. It won’t keep you going for the whole day. You’ve gotta get that good ole cup of joe to start your morning.

ARCHIVIST:

I’m… sorry?

ZACH:

You can’t tell me that you actually like that garbage, right? I mean what kind are you even making?

[shuffle as he grabs the box off the counter]

English Breakfast? Really? English? Compensating for being in the US are we?

ARCHIVIST:

(defensive for no reason beknown to the listener but painfully known to them) I happen to like it, actually but- no actually wait a minute, who are you? Do you work here?

ZACH:

(also defensive for previously explained reason) Yeah, I do. Do you?

ARCHIVIST:

Yes, indeed I do. I’m actually the head archivist. May I ask what in the hell you might do around here? Other than, of course, critique drink choices?

ZACH:

Oh. (beat) Oh you- (another beat) You’re the archivist?

ARCHIVIST:

(huffing out a breath) Quite right. Once again. What the hell do you do here?

ZACH:

Oh I’m Zach. Zach Baker. I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were… my… boss.

ARCHIVIST:

(hurried and with false confidence) Yes, of course. I’m Val West… your boss. Which means that I’m in charge here. Which then means you should… watch yourself in bothering me about these small things. Yes.

ZACH: It’s not my fault you have the worst taste in drinks-

ARCHIVIST:

(coughs to cut him off)

ZACH:

Well, you do. I’m just saying, okay? And- hold on, are you recording this?

ARCHIVIST: Hmm? Oh, yes I suppose I am.

ZACH:

Where’d that thing come from anyway? It looks ancient.

ARCHIVIST:

It is, from what I can tell. But Mr. Banks has instructed me to record all of my (said with distaste because the archivist is a dick to account givers) “little stories” into it. Apparently, silent reading does not do much in the way of furthering the plot of a story told in an audio format.

ZACH: Yeah, I guess he has a point there.

ARCHIVIST:

Fair enough… Either way, I'm not the biggest fan of the old girl, but she hasn’t broken down on me so far, so that counts for something I reckon. Not that there aren’t better ways of recording things, but I digress.

(a beat)

But, I guess I’ve just gotten in the habit of turning it on when it seems like I’m about to do something noteworthy that might further the plot, you know?

ZACH: Like… making tea.

ARCHIVIST:

Yes, yes, I believe you’ve already expressed your opinions on tea, but some of us prefer it to that… grimy coffee that you seem so attached to.

ZACH:

(flustered and compensating, sputtering his words out) Well you can defend your tea all you want, but I am still objectively correct and everyone else definitely agrees with me too, even if the coffee pot goes missing once a week-

ARCHIVIST:

The coffee pot what?

ZACH:

(feeling like he shouldn’t have said that as it seems to have hurt his argument, starting slow and getting increasingly heated) I… it goes missing sometimes… and I haven’t figured out who keeps taking it yet, but trust me I will, and anyways in the meantime, it’s a bit inconsiderate of you to continue trash talking my drink choice-

Recorder clicks off.

Recorder clicks on.

ARCHIVIST:

God, I had to cut that conversation off… It was getting quite past the point of relevance to anyone listening. Pointless debate. So… back to what I was hired on to do, I suppose. (clearing their throat) For the consideration of Boston College: Jordyn Mackenzie’s encounter with an odd child in her parents’ neighborhood, and her request to be exempt from her midterms. No date, once again. [mutters] I am starting to question my predecessor’s competency when it came to filing these out. Her story begins:

[ACCOUNT START]

Every Wednesday night, I make the drive over to my parents’ house to have dinner. When I first moved into my dorm, I had stubbornly been forced into these dinners, as if they were ripping away my freedom so shortly after I had received it. As time went on, however, those Wednesday night dinners have become what I look forward to most. After a while, the glamour of college began to wear off, and I got homesick easily, even if my mother and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye. There’s something so comforting about being able to step away from the bustling atmosphere of campus, and go somewhere quiet, and familiar. We’ve lived in that house almost all my life, and even with all of the bad memories attached to it, I can’t help but think of all the good ones. Perhaps that’s because I always try to see the glass as half full.

(beat)

It’s not just the house I enjoy. My parents live in a small gated community, just about twenty minutes away from school. The houses are all fairly new, with that white picket fence quality to them. In spite of that, each house has its own personality and charm to it. My favorite is probably this blue one with rabbit figurines out front. There’s a park in the neighborhood, too. Not a fancy one, just some monkey bars, a couple of slides, and a grassy field, but it’s great for picnics. Though, in all my time living there, I’ve hardly seen any other children there. I just assumed there weren’t many young kids in the neighborhood.

(another beat)

Thus, you can imagine my surprise when I met this particular child. Now, after dinner each night, I go out on a walk around the neighborhood. It’s small enough to walk the whole span of it in less than half an hour. My father used to come with me, but he’s been having troubles with his knee, so now I walk alone. The weather this time of year is near perfect for a walk—cold enough for it to kiss your face and wake you up, but not enough to freeze to death.

ARCHIVIST:

(mutters) Good lord, spare me the bad poetry. Would love to get to the actual point soon. Anyways.

[ACCOUNT]

It was on one of these walks that I first encountered the kid.

ARCHIVIST:

(mutters) Thank you.

[ACCOUNT]

As I previously stated, there aren’t many kids in the neighborhood, so it took me by surprise to see a new face. He looked to be about seven or eight, with unkempt, dirty blond hair, and blue eyes that were almost unnaturally large on his face. He wore a basic white t-shirt and jean shorts, and sure, I liked the weather, but a kid dressed like that must have been freezing, right? He did not shiver, however, hardly even emoted. Just walked right down the center of the road, staring dead ahead, carrying a bright orange toy gun.

(beat)

Of course, I worried for the kid. Where were his parents? Why was he out so late by himself?

I called out to him. He looked up at me with a surprised look, as if he was shocked to see me actually speaking to him. I asked him what his name was, but he didn’t answer. I tried to ask him lots of things—where his house was, why he was out so late, if he needed help or if his parents were nearby. He wouldn’t respond to anything I said. Just stood there and stared intensely into my eyes. I have to admit, it made me a bit squeamish. Eventually, I just walked away, hoping that whoever was responsible for the kid knew where he was, and that he would make it home safely. I tried not to think about it too much after that. The following week, when I went to dinner, I didn’t go on a walk. My parents had decided they wanted to play a board game, and I was more than happy to comply. The event with the kid had left me feeling unsettled, so I was a bit wary of going on a walk regardless. After another week, however, I had finally gotten over it. I figured it was just one weird kid, nothing more. I mean, looking back, I couldn’t blame him for being scared to talk to a complete stranger. I mean I wasn’t even certain looking back that the expression on his face was all that disturbing. It likely had just been fear, right? Surely, his parents knew where he was, and he was simply out for a post-supper stroll like I was. It was a fairly safe neighborhood, after all. So, the next time I went to my parent’s house for dinner, I went on another walk. There was a slight breeze, but my body heats up as fast as an oven with the slightest bit of exercise, so I welcomed the blasts of cold on my skin. The leaves in the trees rustled, and combined with the sound of windchimes, it was like a symphony of nature’s design.

ARCHIVIST: dropping down papers

(frustrated) I thought I said no more poetic imagery, christ- oh good it ends.

[ACCOUNT]

It was lovely, up until it wasn’t. I saw the kid again, still standing in the middle of the road. He was wearing the exact same outfit as before, the shorts even having the exact same grass stains they did before. It was uncanny, sure, but I figured it was just a coincidence. This time, I harbored far less discomfort or worry. It was just a kid. What could he do to me?

(beat)

A lot, turns out. (stumbling through the sentence) A lot meaning… scare me, but you know what I mean.

Before I even opened my mouth, I realized he was staring dead at me. As if his doll-like eyes were drilling holes into my skull. The weight of being watched hit me like a freight train, but I tried my best to shake it off. I apologized to him for being so invasive the last time we met. Again, he didn’t answer, just continued staring. I wasn’t quite sure what to say after that. It would be hypocritical if I began asking him questions again, immediately after I had apologized for doing exactly that.

ARCHIVIST:

Not sure a child understands what hypocrisy is, but, if it lets you keep the moral high ground, Ms. Mackenzie.

[ACCOUNT]

I didn’t like the way he looked at me, though. My desperate need to fill the silence was an instinct of some kind. As I stood there, teetering back and forth on my heels as I tried to think of what to do next, something strange happened. The kid, still staring at me, slowly began to raise his arm. In his hand was the same toy gun as before. He raised the toy gun until it was pointing directly at my head. Well, what the hell was I supposed to do with that? I knew it wouldn’t actually hurt me if he fired it, yet I still found myself frozen in place.

That was when the car, driving far too fast for a neighborhood, came barreling around the corner. The kid didn’t move. Didn’t even look to see the car coming. My feet lept to action before I processed what I was doing. I ran out into the middle of the street and tackled the kid. We stumbled towards the sidewalk on the other side as I dragged him. The momentum knocked us to the ground. Pain surged through my shoulder and my hip, but I hardly processed it until later, when I saw the large bruises that had formed. We had just barely managed to clear the car’s path. The driver didn’t even stop to apologize, or check to see if we were okay. Didn’t even slow down. I didn’t get a good look at the driver’s face, or the license plate. All I remember is that the car was black and might have been a Honda. Wherever they are, I hope karma did a good deal on them for their reckless driving.

Before I could focus on my injuries, I checked to make sure the kid was okay. Other than a scrape on his knee, he appeared to be fine, but it was hard to say. Even after all of that, his expression still hadn’t changed. For some reason, this made me indescribably angry. How could you almost get hit by a car and then still act completely neutral? Regardless,if he was in any pain, there was no way I could tell. I offered to take him back to my place and clean up his knee, but he shook his head. I noticed he was staring intently over my shoulder. When I turned around, I realized his toy gun had been destroyed. Orange and yellow plastic bits covered the street, almost like broken glass. He stood up and walked towards the remains. As he picked up what used to be the trigger, his face was still blank, but if I looked closely enough, I could have sworn I saw something adjacent to sadness. Disappointment, perhaps. For the first time since I had met him, he opened his mouth, and—god, I wish I had stuck around long enough to learn more. I wish I had pressed harder, since I now knew he was actually capable of speech. Hearing what he said next chilled me, though. I can’t quite say why. All I know is that after he spoke, I got up and ran back to my house, never wanting to see that kid again. Do you want to know what he said? The only words I ever heard him speak? It was this, with no further details or elaboration: “He’s not going to be happy about this.”

Paper shuffling.

ARCHIVIST:

And that seems to be where it ends. Jordyn gave us the name of the neighborhood this took place in, as well as the exact street the incident happened. The problem is, as she stated, it’s a gated community, and none of our staff had a code to get in. It says here in an attached slip of paper labeled: Incident Report, (sighs) date not given, that they contacted the head of the community in an attempt to gain access, but the head of the home-owner’s association said to, quote, “shove it in a place the sun doesn't shine, you conspiracy theory creeps.” Luca writes here that there was an issue involving a cup of… tea… thrown at their face… what a waste.(mutters) Rich people.

Because of this, there’s not much we can do. Without a stated name for the kid, or any known relatives, it’s hard to try to track this kid down. Frankly, I don’t think Jordyn’s story is all that concerning, other than the incident with the car, which we also could not find due to her vague description.

(beat)

It’s likely the child she met was simply shy, or possibly processed his emotions in a different way than she was used to. Her university certainly agreed with me, since it seems she was not given her requested time off. Thus, as far as I can tell, this is another instance of someone making something deeper than it needs to be and then trying to get an extra vacation. I can’t blame her, I suppose, since nearly seeing a kid get run over would certainly be upsetting. It does appear that Oliver, our resident psychological consultant, did recommend her a therapist, but she never went.

(beat)

Trust me, Jordyn, I would love to take a break as well, but post-grad school is expensive, and I doubt Mr. Banks would give me paid time off even if something worthwhile were to happen. It’s the world we live in, I suppose. Gotta pay off the student loans one way or another. (sigh)

End recording.

Recorder click off.

CREDITS:

Incident Report Number 31 is a podcast made by Three-Eyed Frog Presents. This episode, “Secure,” was written, directed, and produced by Val West and Luka Miller with sound design by Luka Miller. This episode featured Val West as the Archivist and Kaleb Piper as Zach Baker. Music is produced by Luka Miller. To keep up with the show and find transcripts, make sure to follow us on our Twitter at @IR31Pod and on tumblr at @IncidentReport31. To contact us with any questions or concerns, feel free to email us at [email protected]. Thanks so much for listening!

#ir31pod transcripts

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rosyluv · 4 years

Text

—Chapter Two: It’s That Stupid Dinosaur Costume Running Like A Madman.

A/n: me and my sister wrote this at 4am so it’s v chaotic and weird, also i have a Spotify playlist for the series “avengers assemble: avenge club.” Enjoy!

Warning: none. Rlly bad comedy and minor bullying if you will.

——

“What new girl?’’

Is the first thing that Bruce says after five or so minutes. Carol, the new girl, is looking in between them, confused and waiting for someone to de-freeze --and for the love of god could they stop gawking at her like she’s some god-forsaken alien, who shoots fire out of her fists. (She starts to think that being new in this academy is like a rare disease) Is this how they greeted all the new kids? Because if so then she’s going to have a blast the next years sitting alone at lunch, thank you.

“I just transferred here,’’ she says slowly for their equally slow brains to understand.

“No new kid transferred here since like ... five years ago.’’ Rhodey says. “Why did you do that to yourself?’’ he asks, genuinely confused and equally upset.

She gave a look at the fighting and arguing in the hallway. “I can see why you’d ask that.’’

Right then, they hear the hallway mic screech, turning on annoyingly loudly, and they hear Nick’s voice: “All students head to the gymnasium, this is nothing but a mild inconvenience. If I see one student in the hallway in ten seconds, you’ll earn yourself detention for the rest. Of. The. School year.’’ He says, his voice authoritative and final over the mic.

Then after – miraculously—all the students stop the arguing and fighting to head to the direction of the gym like Nick ordered. “Where’s Nick?’’ Carol asks, when the hallway is almost empty.

“Nick?’’ they all say in unison, confused and frowning in disbelief. She called him Nick.

She looks frustrated. “The headmaster, the guy who was just talking?’’

“It’s Mr. fury.’’ Nick climbs the stairs and stands Infront of Carol, ignoring the others and glaring at her. Carol smiles, unaffected by his monotone, attitude or dark clothes, almost like she is familiar with him.

“Yeah, whatever.’’

“You’re late, two classes behind.’’ He sternly says.

“Well, There’re no teachers and i don’t have my timetable yet.’’ He glares and she smiles innocently and half raises her head cheekily, ’whatcha gonna do?’ expression. Same expression Clint does- same expression they all do. Like that time, they broke the fire alarm, because Clint wanted to know what would happen if you lit a watermelon on fire. ‘’It has 92 percent water in it Nat; nothing bad will happen.’’ Turns out sticking ‘those fire emergency stick thingys in the school buses’ in 3 watermelons wasn’t the bad Clint was talking about, but it was a profound -watermelon explode- disaster and ‘burned watermelon smells like burned water.’ Followed by ‘how the hell do you possibly know what burned water smells like, Barton?’

Fury hands Carol a piece of paper, she scrunches up her nose when she takes a look at it, visibly disliking it, (it would be weirder if she did like it), and AP chemistry after lunch was much to dislike. Maybe she’ll skip it and-

“Don’t think of skipping AP chemistry.’’

Her eyes narrow and she almost defends herself.

“Or AP math.’’ He says in finality and she pops her mouth shut.

Nick just now looks at the – still – confused others in the back, and tiredly rolls his eyes.

“This is Carol, she just transferred here from up-state.’’ Nick seems frustrated and tired. “Can someone please show her around school?’’ but it’s not really a “can you please?” question, it’s more of a “who of you?” Question. No one volunteers still, because all experiences with kids from academies up-state is that they are a teeny, tiny a lot arrogant and self-centered. Like Thor who used to live in western Australia up-state, because he just won’t stop talking about it. ‘schools in Australia where I lived were way less incompetent.’

Now it was 10 seconds, (not like Nick counted it) and they were still ignoring him. Val makes a sound in the back of her throat like a groan, “Fine, I’ll do it.’’ Then she walks away with Carol trailing behind.

“Clint, Nat, go look for the teachers again, make sure you find them this time, while I contain the damage in the gymnasium. This is still a school day.’’ He sharply orders and they take in the serious tone, because they nod once and walk the opposite direction Carol and Val went.

Nick steps forward and heads quietly to the gym, they – of course – follow behind, until they’re in-front of the two large doors filled with chatter inside that’s somehow not fighting. Pietro, Thor and Wanda who came back from where they were, join the others now. There’s no more arguing and ‘hallway disturbance and breakage and wrecking of things in the hallways, it’s calm, not clean, but at least calm and quiet and only chairs scraping at the floor, and that old closet filled with aging silver trophies’ rusted doors getting swayed by the wind is heard. Unlike it was two minutes ago.

Nick turns to them and sighs. “This is exactly what I was saying, the whole school is reckless and divided, and the kids never agree on anything and they don’t help each other like they should. Now I knew I would never understand what you kids want and how you perceive socialism in your own way these days. And if I put an action or a plan to handle these things, and how the school should work; they were going to be my way, which of course you would’ve immediately hated and disagreed with. That’s why I invested my trust in the responsibility I offered you, so you could be able to do that instead of me. You would understand what this school needs to be like. Unlike the other students. Just the thirteen of you are the ones who showed any concern for the bad things happening.’’ Nick says.

Sam actually regrets not being the one guiding Carol around school right now, so he wouldn’t be feeling guilty about letting Nick down, but well this is how all of them were feeling like. Even Tony, who a second later adjusts his bag on his shoulder, and says. “Well, you may consider other people,’’

Then he walks away and doesn’t enter the gymnasium, Nick doesn’t seem to care. Pepper and Rhodey following after mumbling a soft ‘sorry Nick’, Thor is the next to leave saying, ‘I’ll go find Loki.’ And Bruce offering to help him. Pietro and Wanda give a small nod and then leave, also. Sam pats Nicks back then stands away. Steve doesn’t leave, he stands stubbornly still in front of Nick, who’s holding the gymnasium door open, waiting for Steve, Bucky and Sam to leave.

Bucky standing close behind, puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder, “c’mon Steve.’’ he shifts on his feet and then finally gives up and leaves with Bucky and Sam.

---

The school isn’t even circle shaped, or round, but Clint keeps saying -- every five seconds -- ‘we’re running in round shapes’ or more like whines the wrong metaphor out. In return Nat calmly says. ‘the school isn’t round Clint.’ So, she’s probably trying to occupy his mind, because she’s done with him and the whole day and everyone, and it’s not even the afternoon yet (and the academy is weirdly big and filled with classrooms and hallways like a maze.) And that would suck because it’s not even 10am and Clint haven’t showed her that funny frog video-

“Wait, I remember it!’’ he half yells. “It’s ‘running in circles’ People say it as a metaphor.’’ He says. “I swear I’m not high! it’s just 9am and a school day and I didn’t get any sleep last night.’’ He mumbles.

“Wow, so you did read our English novel.’’ She says and she’s supposed to sound amused by the context of what she’s saying, Clint thinks. She isn’t though. Just a dull face, and him trying to read her; well that’s just Natasha and Clint anyway.

“No. Why would I? There’s no pictures!’’

She ignores him and keeps looking in classes for the teachers. “We looked everywhere, so it’s either someone told them today is officially labeled Labor Day or Loki killed them, and buried them somewhere.’’

“You think he can actually kill someone?’’

“You think he actually hasn’t killed someone.’’ And then Clint’s face falls and Nat snorts. “I’m kidding, gee you’re never bad with gore.’’ They opened and closed some more classroom doors, really any doors in their way. The hallways were quieter now, so that’s a relief for Natasha’s headache anyway.

She glances at Clint over her shoulder. “What’s wrong with you today?’’

“Huh?’’

“You’re weird today.’’

“I’m always weird, you say that every day-’’

“No, I mean weird, weird. Like your anxious and jumpy and more self-aware of how you hate yourself.’’ She opens an empty classroom, mumbling something like, ‘where did he put them?’

“I may have not told you everything that happened about ... ‘’ He motions to his blackeye. “This.’’

She so slowly narrows her eyes and studies him. “You said some guy who doesn’t go here punched you because you annoyed him.’’

“Yeah- ‘’

“Which actually sounds so stupid when I say it out loud, now.’’ She frowns. “How did I believe that- ‘’

“I stole Brock Rumlow’s jacket.’’ She focuses on him and he realizes the context of what he said.

He stutters, widening his eyes. “Well no I didn’t -- at least not anything I remember, but he thinks I stole it at Saturdays party.’’

She glares, but stays calm. For now. “I told you not to go to that party, we don’t hang out with that crowd, and of course you went and ended up accused of stealing Brock fucking Rumlow’s varsity jacket.’’ She says, slightly gritty. and she has the ‘you screwed up and i will kill you after this is over myself’ face.

“I didn’t though!’’ He exclaims.

“I know dumbass.” She raises her voice a little. “He’s a psychopath, he accuses people of things they didn’t do because he likes that it amuses him, he beats people up and does shit like that all the time for fun. Now you actually screwed him over.” She grittes out. “Did he see you? Maybe someone who looked like you?’’ She thinks more to herself. Which gives him time to contaminate telling her what he’s about to tell her, or run away instead. Because if going to Brock’s party isn’t what’s going to kill him then this will. Or at least he thinks.

“Loki told him he saw me take it and leave- ‘’ she groans.

“Of course, he did.’’

“He says if I don’t get it by tomorrows basketball practice, he’ll report me.’’ And he’s panicking now. “Shit! What am I gonna do- ‘’ he says, like he just now felt the weight of the situation and trouble he’s in, Nat scoffs at that.

“Listen, we’ll find the teachers then find the boys and figure this out, Just don’t panic alright?’’ She reassures, then she takes a look at him. “You already are, aren’t you?’’

“No! no, it’s fine, this is fine, I’m O-K. It’s alright, it’s fin-’’ His voice gets higher at the end.

“We need to find the teachers because your having a panic attack, I think I know where they are. Come on.’’ She says, all serious now, going the opposite direction, towards the field.

Thor and Bruce, who had been also going through the school hallway and looking through classrooms searching for Loki came up with nothing, and it’s been five minutes now. They didn’t even run into Nat and Clint. Maybe that’s just how big the academy is, or maybe they’re horrible at searching for people.

Or maybe not so bad since they spotted Loki getting out of a classroom, holding onto something behind his back.

Thor yells his name, catching his attention and runs his direction, Bruce sighs and follows.

“Why the hell would you screw with the report cards?’’ Thor yells frustrated.

“I can explain, just ...’’ he hands Bruce the varsity jacket that he was holding behind his back. “Hold this for a second. I’ll be right back.’’ He motions for Thor to wait with his hands. And calmly walks away into a different hallway.

Thor waits after 5 seconds. “He’s not coming back.’’

“Nope.’’

Then Thor curses under his breath and runs in the direction Loki walked in. Bruce deciding this is just family problem and he’s already having a much anxious day for a family confrontation, stays behind and turns around to walk the other way, although he hits something and his coffee spills on said something. The liquid spills on the jersey in his hand, (with the weird symbol on the back that doesn’t look like the school logo.) the coffee cup neglected now on the floor, Bruce turns to look at who he spilt his coffee on and —of course— its high school douchebag Brock Rumlow. Of course, his luck is just like that, and of course he’s with his other douchebag friends. He recognizes them well. On Brock’s left, Aldrich Killian, blonde hair, thats neatly slicked back, (and Bruce wants to tell him ‘we’re not in the 80s’ man), blue eyes, sharp jaw, and an almost no-fucks given face with tinted glasses lowered to the bridge of his nose, looking unbothered, finishes the look nicely. He takes a minute to remember that he knows about him not from his excellency in everything the school does, and how his name is always on top of school charts. (Although not essentially as Tony’s) but from Tony, he always rivaled him, and Tony always hated him, saying how full he was of himself which was a little hypocrite for Tony to say since he wasn’t much different, ‘at least I know how science actually works, unlike him.’

On his right, Hela, Thor and Loki’s big sister who’s blowing a bubblegum and holding her phone with long, green manicured nails and her scary piercing cat-like green eyes, an almost white sheet skin tone, and the dark eye make-up magnifying ‘the whole vampire look she got going on,’ like Loki would say. And next to her is, Erik Killmonger. Glasses, perfect lean broad athlete body, dark smooth skin, his hair in a half small dreadlock bun, wearing a denim jacket, over his designed uniform. He doesn’t know him much as much as he’s recognized with the other three, from his friends past experiences with them. Actually no one really knows anything about Erik, now that he does think about it.

Bruce finally breaks his ogling and stutters: “I - I’m so- I’m so sorry- oh god- ‘’

Brock stops glaring at Bruce’s face and his eyes waver to what he’s holding, “Is- Is that my jacket.’’ His face reddens and a vein displays in his forehead. And Bruce just notices, Brock isn’t wearing the jacket he’s always seen wearing. Just a white t-shirt that’s stained with coffee now.

Bruce begins to explain, but ends stammering. ‘’No, no, no.’’

“You spilt coffee on me and you have my fucking jacket,’’ he says, voice chillingly slow and calm.

Bruce does the one thing that pops in his mind, and ‘Loki would be proud’ he thinks In pity, “I can explain.’’ He says slowly before he bolts the other way.

Brock isn’t wasting time either, running after him full speed. Erik and Aldrich follow after and Hela who stays behind, opens her camera phone, “this should be fun.’’

Bruce who’s running, hallway to hallway, having a full-on panic attack, runs into the academy’s band changing room and see’s that giant big green monster costume, that looks like a dinosaur, hanged carefully next to the marching band costumes. He Hears foot steps outside the room and — this was predictable — quickly fumbles through the dinosaur costume and changes into it.

Now he is in the costume, putting the head on and he looks stupid wearing it at day with no football ... well, anything. More or so he’s feeling his anxiety grow bigger which is probably not a good sign too. He goes out of the back door and sees Rumlow and Erik at the end of the hallway, they see him, but don’t seem to really care or give attention to the weird kid in a green dinosaur costume and keep looking for ‘Bruce’

Almost satisfied that his plan worked he turns around and sighs— but he’s not met with the school main exist, Hela is in front of him, with towering frame and a smirk on her lips, she so slowly turns to Brock’s direction still looking at Bruce and ignoring his whispering pleas to stop.

“He’s here!’’

“Shit.’’ He curses under his breath, as he— instead of exiting school like he planned, runs to his left, he goes through another hallway and runs because he can hear running behind him and at this point, he’s hating this day and wishes he stayed at the gym and didn’t help Thor look for Loki. He takes another left. Hopefully they lose his tail and then he’s again stumbling into someone and he can’t see who because, curse how big this thing’s head is. He raises it to the side and looks.

He sees who he stumbled on, “Loki?’’ then he realizes who he stumbled upon. “Loki!’’ he hisses and begins to demand an explanation for the jacket, but then Loki’s face whitens turning to look at the costume with disgust before he’s running the other way, and Bruce remembers him saying how much that big costume freaked him out. “It’s an ugly shade of green and the head isn’t even attached to the body, it’s horrible.”

Thor just now appears from where Loki came from and heaves a breath, then takes a good look at his friend in that ridiculous costume and frowns. “What Happened? I left you for five. Fucking. Minutes.’’

Bruce struggles to answer, “did you see where Loki went to?’’ and Bruce points at the direction he ran off to. But before Thor can run first, they hear shouting from behind and now Bruce is the one running first and Thor who doesn’t exactly have a grasp on what’s happening follows behind Bruce, to find Loki.

And then it’s Brock and his friends running after Thor who’s running after Bruce running after Loki, and it’s a mess and Bruce feels like he could vomit, but he can’t get beaten up for something he didn’t do, let alone understand why, at 9am. So maybe he’ll run till lunch break instead.

---

Steve hasn’t spoken a word since they left the gymnasium. And Sam and Bucky know why, but they’re hoping they’re wrong. Then Steve speaks.

“Nick’s right.”

They both roll their eyes and Sam shakes his head.

“We’re gonna do the club.”

Sam faces him. “Even if we Join you, No one is going to agree to that.”

“They will, eventually.”

“I know where this is going.” Bucky whispers to himself.

“I have a plan.”

Bucky winces, closing his eyes. “No.’’ he whispers.

Sam shakes his head. “Yeah, of course you do.”

Bucky opens his eyes. “Steve, noO-’’ but he’s already running the other direction.

“Let’s go!’’ he heads for the school back exist, he doesn’t get the chance to open it, because he reaches for the door handle and it’s already opening and then Nat steps inside and they both frown at eachother. Clint, who’s behind Nat, catches up now.

“What are you doing?’’

“Looking for you.’’ Nat narrows her eyes. “What are you doing?’’

He points at her. “Looking for you.’’ She nods. “Did you find the teachers?”

“Yes. We did.’’ Nat goes back outside and starts walking, they mostly follow her, but they already know where she’s going anyway.

Then cold, heavy wind makes Steve’s nose scrunch up, because it’s the end of September and it’s chilly and the air is damp and foggy and feels more like November. He puts his hand in his pockets and folds into himself so at least his jacket provides some warmth. Then he remembers Bucky hates winter and cold weather, more than him, ‘yes, spending half your summer breaks in Siberia can do that, Steve,’ and it’s true because he looks colder than Steve. Opposite to Nat who favors winter and Sam who’s too warm for his own good, then Clint who’s too fidgety but Steve thinks it’s not because of the weather.

“Where did you find them?’’ Sam asks curiously, when they reach ‘their place’ as Clint calls it. It’s really not, it’s a place that no one in school pays attention to, mostly because it’s hidden in the back of the academy, on the left, deep in tall trees. Clint found it when he got, ‘secretly’ drunk at a football game two years ago and woke up on the ground, surrounded by grass and tall, Doric columns, separated by a few centimeters and Clint had claimed it theirs. ‘It’s like I was supposed to be there, it’s crazy! We should make it our place.’ Which after a lot of persuading on Bucky’s side, to sit outside the warm academy on cold Doric walls instead; they agreed to make it their special hang out place. They sit there, sometimes do late unfinished homework before school starts or just sit and talk about anything and everything, or just do nothing at all sometimes.

Nat sat between two columns, and rested her legs up on the column in front of her, still used to her ballet classes, Clint thinks. “Remember that room at the end of the football yard, where they used to put away broken equipment or trash old files.’’ She says and continues when they nod. “Loki sent someone panicking telling some teachers that two students were killing eachother in that room and then to other teachers that a group of students were doing— or high on crack. He even told a teacher he saw a wolf in there.’’

“That explains why animal control was here,’’ Sam points his thumb at two men getting into a large van with, ‘animal control’ printed on it. One of the men faintly heard from where they are, says: “false call’’

“What kind of sociopath-- ‘’

“Yeah, we don’t have time to discuss Loki’s concerning behavior.’’ She pauses, “or actually, no, we do, since this concerns him.’’

Steve straightens his posture. “What happened?’’

Natasha takes a deep breath. “Rumlow thinks Clint stole his jacket because Loki said he saw him take it.’’

“He did what?’’

“You went to Brock’s party?’’ Are both said in unison to Clint after Nat finishes talking.

They all look disappointed at Clint. He sighs slowly and looks down, “was it worth it? No. Am i gonna do it again? Probably.”

Nat turns to him. “Am i surprised? No. Am I Disappointed? Yeah.” She nods at Clint and fake smiles and he sarcastically copies her expression.

Steve looks between Nat and Clint, tiredly. “Well, Thor said he’s going to look for Loki so if we find him, we’ll probably find Loki.’’

“And do what?’’ Nat asks.

“Well if Brock doesn’t have his jacket then Loki probably knows where it is or maybe he has it, so we’ll talk to him, see what he wants.’’ He explains to, Clint who’s leaning against the wall, and tapping his foot anxiously, biting at his nails. Bucky sitting next to Nat and Sam who’s standing beside him.

“And if he doesn’t reason, beat him up.’’ Nat declares. Nodding, like she 100% thinks that’s the right strategy.

Steve scoffs at her logic. “No! no one is beating anyone up.’’ He states. She dramatically rolls her eyes.

“What if we don’t find him?’’ Sam asks, more of questioning Nat and he looks like he’s scared of the answer.

Nat waits a second, “Brock said he’ll report Clint if he doesn’t get his jacket back by tomorrows basketball practice.’’

“That dick!’’ Bucky, who was quiet for the most part, says, his voice shaky and his teeth shattering. Steve should really tell him that he brought a spare jacket for him in his locker, because Steve saw the weather forecast and they said it would be cold, unlike Bucky who goes by how the weather should be according to the month, ‘they’re never right, why bother.’ Although Bucky is traditional like that and he hates to admit that this city is bipolar when it comes to weather.

“Okay, well, we should find Thor, now. The earlier the better.’’ Sam says.

“I texted Thor, he’s not answering.’’ Nat says, and puts her phone down.

“Okay, then let’s go look for him, maybe he’s back in the gymnasium.’’ Steve suggests as he heads outside the bushes.

Bucky shakes his head. “No! wait! We have classes!’’ However, they already left and are too far to hear him. He huffs grumpily and mumbles, “what is wrong with today?’’ then gets up after his —too energetic—friends.

Bucky steps outside, ‘their place.’ and he notices they’re all standing still, frozen and stunned, their jaws dropped and eyes narrowed slightly. Nat’s eyebrows knitted together. They look like they’re trying to comprehend something that’s happening in front of them. He doesn’t see what is happening though, until he steps beside them and it’s his time to get stunned. “What is that ...’’ He trails with a low voice.

It’s that stupid green dinosaur costume running like a mad man after a seemingly terrified Loki, a confused Thor shortly following behind and Erik and Aldrich and Brock (a very angry Brock) running and yelling something, Hela also behind, only she’s not running, just walking and it looks like she’s filming the obscene tragedy that is —whatever this is, with her phone.

“Is that ...’’ Clint whispers slowly, completely confused, his finger trailing the dinosaur that falls on it’s big head and Loki laughs at it like the evil has been defeated, then flinches like a scared cat when it moves and gets up.

The dinosaur doesn’t get fully up though, because a second later Brock grabs at his feet and the poor dinosaur falls back on it’s face and Loki is laughing so hard at whoever is in the costume, he almost falls on his face himself. Hela is still filming, and Thor tries to claw Brock away from the dinosaur—

“This such a weird day.’’ They hear beside them, when they look to see who said that, they find Tony, wearing sunglasses and drinking a capri sun.

“Where did you come from?’’ Sam asks.

Tony frowns, “What do you mean? I was here the whole time.’’ Then he goes back inside the building.

Sam huffs dramatically, “can someone explain what the fuck is going on today?!’’

——

✗ Brock Rumlow.

❂ Hela Odinson.

𓃠 Erik “killmonger” Stevens.

⌀ Aldrich “Al” Killian.

14 notes · View notes

prairiesongserial · 4 years

Text

12.13

There wasn’t going to be a burlesque show that night for the good people of Kill Devil Hills, but the burlesque performers weren’t planning on surrendering the tent, either. They had Ezra and a new guitar player captive, and the game of the hour was trying to find a song that both of them knew and could play. Poor Cody was having trouble keeping up, missing notes and breaking rhythm with Ezra.

Friday was wearing sequined underwear, exactly as she was meant to be. She’d spent the last hour going through costumes, now that she and the rest of the burlesque performers were at a truce. It had really only been Abernathy, the red-haired woman with the pink eyepatch, who’d had a problem with her. Abernathy had disappeared with Ezra for a while to handle something or other, and while she was away, Friday had made nice with everyone else. She’d exchanged the contentious blond wig for a bubblegum pink one that was as long as her old blue wig had been - though she still had her eye on the blond. Short hair was so convenient. She’d be back for it.

“How many routines do you put on per night?” she asked as she shimmied herself into a very tight dress. The dress was cut so low it showed almost all of the black sequined bra she had on underneath. It had not been made with the flat-chested in mind.

“That depends,” said Shoshana, one of the other dancers. Friday had decided she liked Shoshana. She was dressed in a too-big button down tucked into too-big pants belted in place. Her sun-bleached brown curls were cropped just under her ears. Most importantly, she didn’t seem to have any intention of hazing Friday. Shoshana sat on top of an unopened crate labeled “heels - very high,” chewing an unlit cigarette. “We try to stick to five minutes per routine.”

“Oh, we did them a bit longer at the Ace,” Friday said. “And with music in between. Course, we were looking for the audience to stay and buy drinks all night, not tip every girl.”

Friday started to wiggle out of the dress. It wasn’t right, and there was a red one folded in the bottom of the crate that had her eye.

“That wouldn’t work here,” Shoshana said. “People hold onto their money tighter when there’s other tents still to visit - or if they saved the burlesque show for last, when their wallet’s already light. Better to get them in and out for the next round of tippers.”

A quick audience turnover sounded like a convenient set-up for any pickpockets working the crowd, but Friday decided not to say anything. Business was business.

Friday stepped into the red dress. It was made of shot silk, giving it an iridescent shimmer. It had a long slit up the side that ended at Friday’s hip. The dress had no straps, making the sequined bra look ridiculous underneath. She twisted herself to try to take it off without taking off the dress first.

“That one looks good on you,” Shoshana said. She finally lit her cigarette, as if only just realizing she hadn’t done so already.

“Thanks,” Friday said. “How nice do you think I have to be to Abernathy to keep that blond wig?”

“Pretty nice,” Shoshana admitted. “Good thing Abernathy likes me.” She took a long drag on her cigarette. “Hey, sunshine?” she called, grinning to show off a chrome tooth.

Abernathy, draped across the piano on the other side of the tent, looked up. “What?”

“I want the blond wig,” Shoshana replied.

Abernathy frowned at her. “To give to…”

“Look at her,” Shoshana said. “She’s a mess without it. Not fit to be seen.”

Friday crossed her arms. “Well, hold on,” she said.

Abernathy slid gracefully down from the piano, a hiss of air escaping from her false leg.

The roar of a truck engine interrupted the exchange. Abernathy continued to approach, but she walked past Friday without so much as looking at her. Friday followed her out of the tent. The truck was still a ways down the road, but it definitely belonged to the circus. It was the same truck that Val and Johannes had left in that morning..

Abernathy watched it approach. Behind them, the piano came to a discordant stop, leaving Cody’s guitar alone to practice the last few bars. In seconds, Ezra had joined them outside of the tent.

“Does he have any idea what time it is?” he muttered.

The truck approached quickly, spitting up dust under the tires. It didn’t rejoin the circle where the other trucks were parked, but shuddered to a halt at an angle right in front of Friday, Abernathy, and Ezra. Johannes tumbled out of the driver’s side, not bothering to close the door.

Friday’s eyes widened. Johannes was covered in ash. For a split second, she was looking at Val stumbling out of the back door of his church. Johannes strode up to Ezra and started talking quickly, but Friday’s ears were ringing. She couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“Val?” she said.

A crowd was growing around the truck as Val climbed down from the passenger side. He slammed the door closed behind him. She couldn’t see him - all she got was a passing glimpse through the windshield before the sun’s glare cut her short. Friday shouldered her way past several carnies, then finally turned the corner to face him.

She was staring the past right in the face. There were streaks of ash down Val’s cheeks. And his hair - his hair had caught fire in places. His shirt alone was suspiciously clean, as if he’d been wounded and treated and covered up again.

“It’s not even four o’clock, Friday,” he said chidingly, but with the slightest smile, as he leaned back against the truck. He averted his eyes in that infuriatingly polite way he always would when she was dressed for a performance.

Whatever Friday had been about to say to him fled her mind. Two separate memories of Val were smashed together in front of her, and it didn’t make sense. His words, even his posture, took her back to how things had been before John and Cody and the whirlwind that followed - he might have said the same thing to her some late afternoon at the church, her sitting on the edge of Val’s desk while he opened every drawer in search of the right size nail for a repair. But with ash smeared across his face, Val looked like he had stepped out of one of Friday’s worst days. She felt tears prick the corners of her eyes, and grit her teeth to hold them back, feeling lost.

“It’s for work,” Friday said, finally. She paused. She wanted to touch his face, to wipe the grime away with a sponge like she had done back at the Ace while the fire was spreading - what seemed like a lifetime ago. It had helped then, being able to do something. With Val awake, she didn’t quite dare.

“What happened to you?” she asked, uneasily.

Val shook his head. “It’ll sound worse than it was. It’s okay. I was, um, foggy for the whole thing.”

Now he looked as uneasy as she felt. Friday had blown up at him when he’d left this morning, after all.

“You’re not going to tell me?” Friday said, trying not to sound upset. She was going to add, “You got hurt,” but found that she couldn’t.

Johannes’s voice cut through the conversation before Val had a chance to reply.

“Pack it in,” he hollered to the crowd that had gathered. “The show’s cancelled. We leave in an hour.”

“We already started setting up,” Ezra snapped. “We can’t strike in just an hour. If you had told us - ”

“If I’d known earlier, I would’ve told you,” Johannes snapped back at him. “We have to move. Soon. Now.”

Ezra argued, but Friday didn’t catch his reply in the clamor from the rest of the circus. Her attention fell back on Val. She felt so angry, and so stupid. She’d let Johannes bully Val into going off alone with him, when she’d known Johannes wasn’t someone to be trusted. Now something had happened that was so awful Val didn’t even want to tell her. He looked nervously past her, and Friday wasn’t convinced it was just her outfit that had him acting so cagey.

“If I tell you, you won’t be happy,” Val said slowly.

“I’m already not happy,” Friday said, then clenched her teeth, trying to reign herself in.

“Okay, enough chit-chat,” Johannes said, suddenly in the middle of their conversation. “Ketsele, you’re with me for first aid and an emergency haircut. Friday…” He waved a hand dismissively. “Go do what Ezra tells you. Some of us were burned at the stake today.”

Johannes had begun to steer Val away, though Val shrugged out from under his arm. Friday saw red. She reached out and yanked a handful of tassels on the back of Johannes’s jacket as hard as she could, throwing him off balance and forcing him to turn back.

“What?” he yelled.

“I don’t know what happened,” she threw back. “But I know it was your fault, and I’d like to see a little remorse.”

Johannes raised his eyebrows.

“You two are very similar,” he said to Val, straightening his lapels.

“Friday - ” Val began.

“No!” Friday yelled. “I will not let it slide, and I will not accept that it ‘wasn’t that bad.’ Even if you don’t tell me. I know it was bad.” It was so bad you’re shutting me out, she thought. “Val, please. He’s not good.”

“I didn’t burn him at the stake,” Johannes argued. “What the hell did I do to you?”

Nothing, yet. Friday ignored him, looking at Val instead. He left Johannes’s side, coming to stand closer to her. She was overpowered by the smell of the ocean, sweat, and ash.

“I know how it sounds,” he said quietly. “But Johannes saved my life. I trust him.”

“I know you trust him,” Friday said, frustrated. Her eyes stung, and she couldn’t tell if it was from the smoke on Val’s clothes, or if she was about to cry. “I’m trying to tell you...he’s a con artist, okay? I know he’s grifting. I just...can’t see the big picture yet.”

Val shook his head. “Look, I have to…”

Friday grabbed the end of his sleeve.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I got singed,” Val said, with surprising humor. “Really nothing new.”

Friday nodded, and bit her lip. She wanted to hug him, but Val was already pulling away.

He smiled at her, then turned to Johannes, following the ringmaster’s lead across the camp. Johannes tried to put his arm around Val again, but Val ducked away. Friday watched him push Johannes’s head down like some rowdy kid, then fold his hands behind his back as if he hadn’t.

“You better watch it,” Johannes said, laughing. “I’m about to cut your hair.”

Friday slowly breathed out. The crowd had scattered at the announcement that everything had to be packed in an hour. The only still bodies were three she knew: Ezra, John, and the mechanic, Enis. Ezra and Enis were talking, clearly working through a problem. John was staring right at Friday.

She thought he must be staring at something behind her until he caught her eye and looked away.

“I’m gonna go change,” Friday muttered to no one.

12.12 || 12.14

#story

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midnightwriting · 4 years

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A story idea : By India Tungate

But now, my biggest fear was my reputation. Because reputations rule your life, right? One stupid mistake and suddenly your world can come crashing down all around you in a thousand of bloody pieces. Piercing right into your soul. Changing how you appear on the outside to everyone else and leaving scars on the inside.

I exhaled softly, hoping that Jacob couldn’t hear me crying as I sat in the passenger seat of his pick-up truck. I didn’t want him to think that tonight went completely wrong because of him. It was all me. It is always my fault.

“Look, it’s fine.” He spoke softly as he tapped his fingers nervously on his stirring wheel. “I should had known better than to ask you out on a date this soon after you and Lucas broke up.”

Hearing his name seemed to have set my soul on fire. The hairs on the back of my neck stood tall and my hands began to sweat. My stomach began to tighten and I could feel the heat of vomit rising in the back of my throat. The name Lucas is forever ruined for me.

“I was the one who agreed to it. It’s fine Jacob.” I replied quickly as I kept my focus on the flashing white line from the road.

His tapping grew louder, catching my curiosity. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Jacob reached his hand out towards me. I turned my face towards him and gave him a look that clearly stated “I do not want to be touched.” But yet he continued to reach for me until his hand landed forcefully against my leg.

“Jacob...”

“You know, I just thought that since you fucked Lucas that you’d like to know what a real man felt like.” His voice changed. It was deeper, rougher, hiding something.

I shoved his hand away and opened my mouth to say something but before I could, he reached out and grabbed my leg again, this time a little to close to my underwear. I growled in anger as I grabbed a hold of his fingers and tried my best to bend them backwards.

“Are you fucking kidding me Jacob!” I screamed.

“What? You are the one who decided to wear a skirt on a first date. Everyone knows that is code for easy access.” His eyes were glowing with mischief as they swept over my body. I suddenly felt dirty.

“I thought you were my friend!”

“Darlin’, ever since you decided to steal your best friends boyfriend and fuck him after only a few weeks of dating, you have no friends.”

Hot rage began to burn inside me. It took everything in me to calm my voice as I spoke, “Did Val put you up to this?”

“I’m not a rat.” He chuckled, unfazed by the tugging I was doing on his filthy fingers.

“Jacob please! Stop this! I didn’t even have sex with Lucas. The asshole tried to pressure me into it but I told him no. He was pissed and decided to spread the rumor around so that he could have his bragging rights and ruin my reputation. I’m not that kind of girl.”

Jacob’s hand gripped my leg so hard I squealed out in pain. “I know.” He admitted and shoved his hands up my skirt and into my underwear.

Hot tears strolled down my cheeks. I don’t understand why this is happening. Why Jacob was being so cruel to me. I tried to scream but panic gripped my throat. He saw me reach for the door handle and before I could try and escape, ready to jump, Jacob hit the door locks.

My hands were so wet with sweat that I had a hard time pulling the lock switch. As my fingers failed to listen to me, Jacob let go of my leg and held down my hands. He revved the truck’s engine and chuckled loudly with it’s echos.

“Your a evil piece of shit!” I spat and lifted my leg to kick his arm away but as everything else goes in my life, my plan backfired. Jacob’s tight grip found its familiar place on my thigh. He now had a hold of my hand and thigh. With one motion he placed my hand on top of my underwear and forced me to rub myself.

“You know you love this Mia. Let me just show you a good time.” His voice purred.

I kicked. I clawed. I pinched. I tried to bite him.

I twisted. I screamed. I cursed. I cried.

Nothing worked. Jacob was one of the largest males on our high schools football team and there was no way that my scrawny self was going to get away from his grip. I wanted to give up. I almost stopped fighting. Until it happened.

All I remember was hearing a huge smack. Then the crushing of metal. Glass sprinkled all around us. The world came to a quick halt. My head became fuzzy.

It took me a few minutes to regain my conscious. The first thing I noticed was how cold I felt. My body was shaking and I wasn’t sure if it was from adrenaline or from freezing.

Was I dying?

Is this what death feels like?

To my surprise, I was able to move my arms. It was then that I noticed I was laying on something hard. I felt dirt under the palms of my hands. Did I fly out of the windshield?

I pushed with all of my might and after a few failed attempts, I was able to push myself from the ground. I felt stiff but had no pain. I checked my legs and then my arms for any cuts but I had none.

“What the...” I tried to speak but the site before me took my breath away.

Jacob’s truck was crushed. I ran towards the front and saw that it was completely smashed in. It looked as if we had hit a brick wall but yet the only thing around us was a few trees and an open road. No cars. How could this of happened?

I ran around until I reached the drivers side door and began pulling against it.

“Jacob! Are you okay?” I shouted.

I couldn’t see a thing through the crushed metal. My throat began to tighten with fear. Could he be dead? What the hell just happened!

I paced the side of the road, praying that Jacob was on the ground as I was but I couldn’t find him. Before I could reach the truck, the sound of sirens bled through the air.

“And that is really what happened?” A piercing voice snapped me back into reality.

I blinked away the memory and took in a deep breath, hoping to calm away my nerves. I looked up, tears streaming down my eyes, and studied the woman’s face.

She looked unraveled by my story. Her dark brown eyes watched me closely from across the small table. Red painted nails began to drum against its wood surface, shoving me back into the memory of Jacob tapping his stirring wheel. Alive.

But he’s dead now.

And even though he was taking advantage of me, I wouldn’t of wished death onto him. But somehow an in invisible wall stopped him from slipping his fingers inside me. Somehow the truck crushed into us, twisting into Jacob’s body but magically I came out of the crash without a scratch.

I guess that is why I am stuck inside of a tiny room at the Langley’s Police Station and have had to repeat my part of the story three times now. Each time I have received the same judgmental looks and snickers. No one believes me. And I couldn’t blame them.

I’m starting to wonder if I could believe myself.

“So Ms. Overton, your.....”

A knock on the door interrupted the detective. With a quick frustrating huff, she motioned for a guard to open the door and as soon as her eyes landed onto our newest guest, a frown draped across her face.

“What are you two doing here? I have the rights—“

“I’m sorry Detective Mullins but we will be taking over this case.” A woman appeared from the shadows. Her voice moved through my body like silk. She wore a stunning white dress that hugged her body in all of the right places while keeping her style business appropriate. Her hair touched the base of her neck and was dyed an unusual shade of dark red. She had lips to match it along with a pair of enchantingly golden eyes.

I was so intrigued by this mystery woman that once Detective Mullins shouted my whole body shuttered, ripping me back into reality.

“This is bull shit! This makes twenty cases this month! Twenty! You can’t do this.” She argued, flaring her nose as she spoke each word.

“Oh but I can. Now if you will excuse me, I have some work to do.” The woman waved her hand at the guard who took Detective Mullins by the arm and led her towards the door.

“I’m talking to Ben!”

“Whatever you must dear. I really don’t care. Goodbye!”

The door slammed from behind Detective Mullins, leaving the intriguing woman and myself alone in the room together. I looked towards the door, puzzled that there wasn’t a guard in the room with us. Then I studied the mirror, wondering who was watching us from behind its two sided glass.

The woman snapped her fingers, startling me. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and handed it towards me. I tried to smile a thanks but my strength was gone from the past 24 hours of interrogations.

“I’ll tell you the same story that I have told everyone else.”

“There will be no need for more story telling Mia. I believe you.” She smiled as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

I watched her closely as she placed a cigarette into her mouth and inhaled its cancerous smoke. She didn’t look like she was mocking me but I wasn’t sure if I could take her seriously. Especially with that cigarette in her mouth.

“You believe me? Why? Everyone else thinks I’m crazy.”

The woman blew a puff of smoke towards the ceiling, her golden eyes piercing into mine the whole time. She rose one of her red brows and took in a deep breath before she spoke.

“I believe you because I know the truth about you. And I’m here to get you out of here and take you to a place where you’ll feel safe.”

“Wait, what?” I baffled, unsure of what this woman was saying.

“Mia, sweetie, your enchanted. And your not safe here anymore.”

#aspiring writer #story inspiration #inspiration #writing inspiration #inspired #writers on tumblr #writer #my writing #storytelling

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grandthorkiday · 5 years

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Mob AU! “Playthings” Part 18

[Link to mob!au anon’s “Playthings" fic tag]

[Start at Part 1]*

(*Note: Link is editable for other parts, just change the number. For mobile users, tag is “playthings part1”)

“I’m here once again in the penthouse suites of the Gladiator Hotel with En Dwi Gast, as well as Thor and Loki Valhalla. I suppose I’ll begin with you Loki. How do you feel?”

“Better than I was a week ago, thank you. A little silly. It all seems very…stupid now that I look back on it. Just all very stupid.”

“Can you take us through what led to you being nearly forced to testify against your boyfriend?”

“It’s all right, sweetheart. Don’t be shy.”

“I uhm…I am a recovering addict and my road to recovery has been rocky to say the least. Especially with my depression. And I had a few friends who never supported my transition to being sober. So a few months ago they came to visit and wanted to get high. I said no. I’m clean now, and I have the best two boyfriends anyone could ask for who want me clean. They didn’t like that because I was the one who would buy so they beat me. I ended up in the hospital. They panted some drugs on me, I guess for revenge and well, the police arrested me.”

“The police and DA claim you weren’t arrested.”

“That’s not what they told me. They arrested me and then claimed I was danger to myself and locked me in mental facility.”

“They say you consented to go.”

“I consented under pressure. I stayed because I thought they were helping. I do have depression and they promised to keep me clean. They promised….it wasn’t until my Father and the State got involved that I realized it was a lie-”

Val turned off the television. She couldn’t watch Gast having Loki lean into him, his arm drapped around the younger man as he spoke. She couldn’t watch as he rubbed his knee tenderly and kissed his forehead occasionally. It made her physically ill and she had to get ready for her ‘workout’.

[read more cut]

Thor hadn’t appeared on Saturday to the gym and Monday he had came and went without speaking to them. Well, barely speaking to them. He had given them a heads up about this interview and a few interdepartmental moles. A few uniform officers in Major Crimes were already placed subtly under surveillance and put on ‘light’ duty to keep them from learning about what was happening thanks to that information.

But the Sakaar mob was not the only thing they had to worry about.

“Again, I really think you two should leave before you fuck us over again,” Bruce said crossing his arms and leaning back in one of the chairs in the private room.

“My client has a right to be here. This is his son,” the lawyer said calmly, not even blinking at the eyes that rolled at the comment.

“So was Loki,” Natasha pointed out.

Odin glared from his position in one of the recliners. “And you saw how he acted in that interview.”

“I don’t know how many times we have to explain that is a lie,” Bruce growled.

“You can stay, but hinder this at all or don’t abide by the rules, you’re out of here and being charged with obstruction,” Tony warned.

The lawyer looked as though he was going to object when the door opened and once again Thor slid into the room. He had a large salad and a to go cup filled with some type of smoothie. Again he had showered before he had come to see them, and the room was filled with the smell of shower gel and deodorant.

“Sorry about Monday. Had promised I’d do something for…well it doesn’t matter. Catch the interview? They’re still playing it and we got another one lined up. Almost wasn’t allowed out!” He laughed as he sat down, throwing down his backpack he had slung over his shoulder down. “Calorie counting, again.” He explained as he waved a hand toward the smoothie.

Val caught sight of Odin. He looked at the young man in shock, his hand wanting to reach out for his son. He was tearing up. In spite of the anger she felt towards him, she couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him in this moment.

“Now, before we begin, I must warn you that we can’t really use much of what Loki already provided us in any trial that goes forward after this,” Tony began, pulling out a large notepad and several pens. While they were indeed still taping the interview, they felt that not telling Thor would be beneficial, allowing for a more honest testimony.

“Double jeopardy,” Thor nodded as he grazed. “Yeah. He crowed about that for a bit once Max got in touch with him.”

“Max?”

“Security guard dude. Guy who slipped Loki the new phone that got him in touch with Grandmaster.” He pointed at the pad of paper, “Should write that down.”

As Tony did, Natasha asked, “We’ll come back to that but I think we should confirm somethings. So we’re all on the same page.”

He shrugged, still eating his salad contentedly, looking vaguely past the female ADA at point on the wall.

“Okay, again just so we’re clear, you and your brother were kidnapped by Gast in 2009 from a bar near NYU?”

“The Independent, or something like that, but yeah.”

“And you were kept a few months in the basement of one of his penthouses?”

Thor nodded nonchalantly. “Don’t remember which one. One of the crappier ones, but that doesn’t much help, does it?”

“No it doesn’t but that doesn’t mean you are not helping. You are being extremely helpful.”

“I wish to ask a question,” the new lawyer said, leaning forward. Thor seemed only mildly surprised at this new person, but Val had a feeling he simply didn’t remember how many people had been there originally. “What part did Loki play in your kidnapping?”

“Loki?” The blonde frowned. “He was kidnapped with me. His part was victim number two. What the hell kind of question was that?!” He was getting agitated, throwing down his fork in frustration.

Before Tony could intercede, the lawyer foolishly said, “Many sources say that Loki helped assist in your capture and-”

The table was banged as Thor brought both fists down on it. He looked the lawyer directly in the eye as he spoke, causing the man to shrink in on himself. It was the first time outside of looking at Gast or Loki that he had looked at anything or anyone directly. “Did those fuckwit PIs my Dad send around tell you that? Those assholes were paid off ten minutes after they were hired. I was in the room when it happened. Loki was in the room! We had to…” He looked away again, and began to shrink once more. He looked so lost and small. His eyes again became unfocused and vacant. “Those PIs were useless.”

There was a tension in the room as the young man breathed heavily for a moment before picking up his fork and viciously stabbing a piece of lettuce.

“Okay, that was very helpful,” Val soothed, sending the lawyer a smug smile.

The lawyer was not done however. “And the relationship between you and Loki? When and how did that begin?”

“2010. Grandmaster gave us an option. Fuck or go back to the basement. The basement was awful. Loki got this had cough when we were down there. In the winter he still gets pretty sick. I think he has an infection or something. He got this fever once where he couldn’t see. I thought he was permanently blind.”

“May I ask why it started?” Bruce asked gently.

“He had access to our internet history. Had a few IT guys on the payroll, learned that later. Saw….,” his hand was shaking as tried to eat. It was obvious he wasn’t tasting anything in his mouth. “Saw the fact that I…had a…I guess you could call it a crush but it was more than that it was-”

“Stop!” Odin stood up and was walking over to Thor, tears on his cheek. “You don’t have to lie for him!! It’s alright, son! It’s alright!”

Whatever one expected of a son and father reuniting after ten years, this was not that. Thor looked shocked at Odin. Fearful even. He was out of his chair and backing up, looking like he was going to flee. His movements were uncoordinated, and his eyes whirled around in terror. Bruce and Val stood and tried to step between them, but Odin shoved them aside trying to embrace Thor who again kept moving away.

“Son! It’s alright! You’re free! You can come home! My boy! My baby boy!” The father’s voice shook as he motioned to the younger man to join him in his embrace.

“What are you doing here? Is this a trick? I said I’m not going to any safehouse-”

“He came on his own accord.” Tony said quickly. “He’s not with us!”

“You can come home with me! Your room is just how you left it.” Odin had finally closed the gap between them, hugging Thor closer than he had ever hugged Loki. Thor was stiff in his arms, eyes lookng vacantly through Bruce and Val.

“I am going back to Loki.” His voice was quiet but firm.

“You don’t have to go back! Not to that monster or his whore ever again.”

The word whore seemed to make Thor come alive. He grabbed Odin and practically threw him into a wall, his fist raised to strike. If took both detectives holding is other arm not to get him to swing.

“You did it didn’t you?! You really did call him a whore!?! I thought it was something he made up to please Grandmaster, but no, you really did it! You called him…FUCK YOU! He used to dream about coming home to you and mom! He used to talk about it all the time! And when he got back this time, how he just cried. You called him a whore?! Why?! Why?!”

“Thor!”

“S-son! My bo-”

“I’m not YOUR boy! Not anymore.” He dropped Odin, still pinning him with proximity and a glare to the wall. “Do you how many opportunities we had to give him information about your business dealings? Do you know how much we could have gained?”

“You would nev-”

“In a heartbeat I would. In a fucking heartbeat. Hey ADA, you wanna know something? About Max? The security guard my…Father hired?”

“S-sure,” Tony said nervously.

“He tried to get Loki to leave. Just walk out the door and leave. Loki said no. Even when he got the phone and could text Grandmaster, he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay. But he kept saying he missed him. He missed being held. He missed being told he was good. That’s why he did it, y'know? Tried to kill himself. Because the Grandmaster stopped texting back. I wasn’t allowed on the phone but I would hear it go off. I begged to be able talk to him. But he was bad.”

Thor ran his fingers through his hair and turned away from the wall and his Father and began to pace. His words were quick and crazed as he spoke. “He was bad. He should have just come home. I should have been there. I shouldn’t have been bad in the first place. That’s how this all started! I was bad. I was bad. I was-”

“Thor!” Val grabbed his hand and pulled it way from his head. Calmly, she asked, “What do you mean, this is how it all started?”

“I’m the reason we were separated. And why he was in the hospital. The first time. I saw Heimdall, my old roommate, at a bookshop and got invited for coffee. I used to have a massive crush on him, and I guess it wasn’t one-sided. I begged Grandmaster to let me go on the coffee date. He agreed, but I had to be back by 10. And no touching.” He giggled, a strange weird giggle. “I was just so happy to see him! And he is a PhD candidate now! I stayed until 10:45 and I may have let him kiss me. It was just a friendly one. But Grandmaster gets so jealous. He asked how I felt about hurting him and Loki. Especially Loki. And when I didn’t say anything, he slapped Loki so hard he fell off the couch!”

“He put Loki in the hospital….because he was jealous?”

“Yeah. But it’s okay. It was my fault. I just forgot. I forgot how jealous he gets. He once had my shoulder dislocated because Loki kept talking to this one guy. Don’t even think he liked him, just took to long getting back to our table. He cried when he was told he had to put it back in place. Loki isn’t as strong as me, so it took several tries. And we had to be quiet because there was a meeting.”

Thor slumped forward, swaying slightly. He looked like he was wrung out wash cloth of emotions. They were going to get nothing else from today.

“Y-you wanna pick this up on Saturday?” Bruce asked, patting his shoulder.

“Yeah. I should get going. He wants to watch some old sci-fi movie. I dunno. Maybe we can convince him to watch a comedy.”

It was strange to think of a monster in such human terms. But it was stranger to watch Thor gather his things up and willingly leave to go back to the monster, even turning around and smiling at them as he did so. “See ya, Saturday!”

#thorki #loki #frostmaster #thor #GrandthorkiB #sfw #fic #cw noncon implied #cw suicidal ideation #cw mental illness #cw drugs #cw rl drugs #playthings #submission

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ralfstrashcan · 5 years

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3x13 Reaction / Commentary

Yeah I'm aware, stop judging X___X

I feel the need to point this out. Apparently it's common practice for the Praetor to just, kill off their more troublesome charges. Interesting. But Jordan has a different work ethic which is a) apparently not usual for praetors and b) something at least Nick attributes to his past and not, idk, common decency. Just how savage is the Praetor exactly?? (Also let me add this to the list of things why 3x15 makes no sense at all.)

Okay, so they found another mundane dead by Heidi's hand...... why exactly don't they call the Shadowhunters? Aren't they obliged to? I mean?

True, but it sure as hell is her responsibility how she handles them. But we established already that she has a serious perception problem and always sees herself as the victim.

I mean, prime example, if she could have made that smooth exit through the vent where the werewolves couldn't follow, why didn't she just do that from the start instead of attacking Nick? Because she wants to cause trouble and not just “live her life in peace” as she's pretending to.

More like, he didn't have the guts to face Alec like that. Also does that mean he draped Izzy on the couch like that in that cliché sleeping pose with one hand under the head? At least he took off her boots like a sane person.

“I'm just drained.”

Haha it seems Alec isn't the only Lightwood sibling with a shitty sense of humor.

“I don't have the same preexisting condition.” “You mean my addiction?”

No, Izzy, he obviously means your fashion sense, keep up. Seriously, who wrote that stupid ass line of dialogue.

I found it pretty hilarious that Simon, Clary's literally oldest and bestest friend since kindergarten, feels the need to apologize to Izzy for taking up so much time with his Clary-reunion and blocking the path for her. The Clizzy Energy is Strong.

“Hmmmm hot hot hot Clary, please show me more.”

MY THOUGHTS EXACTLY HAHAHAHA PERFECT

Also, Morningstar.... didn't Val name his dumbass tanker ship in S1/S2 Morningstar? Guy really has it with name repetitions, first Jonathan 1 and 2, now Morningstar Ship and Morningstar Sword... I bet he named all his stuffed teddys Mr Snuffels 1, Mr Snuffels 2, Mr Snuffels 3.....

The way he delivers this line me might've as well said “Please cut out the emotional disgusting bullshit my skin is crawling already from this I can't take any more mushiness PLEASE GO AWAY.” Gotta love Alec.

MAGNUS RAGE PUNCHING THE KEYBOARD IS THE MOST RELATABLE THING I HAVE EVER SEEN

Magnus opening up about missing his magic MY HEART OH MY GOD

(Sidenote though: No wonder he got frustrated with the pretentious Shadowhunter Technology, I mean, look at it. There are only runes. Runes may be called runes, but they don't actually make up an alphabet. Why the heck is there a flexibility rune on the screen? It makes no sense.)

This whole scene (and Izzy's lipstick lol) is absolutely perfect. I love everything about it, especially Magnus and especially Izzy. I'd be really surprised if Magnus didn't find a way to get her that weird root thingy anyway, because he surely doesn't buy the “feeling a lot better now” line.

(Edit: Now thinking about it I realized two things, a) she probably didn't take him up on his offer to go to another warlock because she felt like that was unnecessarily rubbing in that he can't do it himself anymore* and b) with that line she probably meant she feels lighter already for sharing what happened and just <3<3<3<3<3)

*The only think that would have made this scene more perfect is if Izzy hadn't skimmed over his magic comment without acknowledging it in any way. Though with this thought in mind, that she rejected his offer to spare his feelings, I find myself placated.

Also I love how Magnus pretends he's going to look for pen and paper when really he's running straight to Alec to tell him all about this (and to prevent a repetition of 2x09 form happening.... and now I made myself sad again).

#effortless (Also reminds me of that post about fire message mechanics that I still owe a certain someone. Where is the time.)

HAHAHAHA

???????????? How do they know that? More importantly, does Alec know? Will he hear through the Shadow World grapevine??? So many questions.

I mean, I have sympathy for her. But like, she's too smart for me to buy that she genuinely can't see any other course of action. She just does this because it's the least effort for her, not because she's truly clueless what alternatives are there for here (aka not running around, killing mundanes, starting a fight with everyone). She just thrives on chaos.

Also “Wolves don't just attack without cause. Not in New York” ? Seems like all Institute except the NY one do a shit job since supposedly keeping peace between the Downworld factions is part of their responsibility. Yes, I am still salty about 3x15. (Also, if anyone's confused by this weird foreshadowing, I wrote notes for this reaction post while watching 3x13 when it first aired, but only got to finish it now after 3x19 aired and I can't keep my chronology-screwing bitterness to myself while finishing up the post. But mostly these are my thoughts from then.)

Yeah something tells me she's not gonna be totally uninvolved in that.

This and the fact that Russel wants to stop Bat from even leaving the Jade Wolf are the final proofs that all the werewolves actually live at the Jade Wolf and pile up in a giant snuggle pile in the kitchen at night. This is further cemented by the fact that Luke and Maia claim to have flats of their own but we never actually see them. Clearly they're both dirty liars that just wanted to mislead.

*late Jocelyn's late friend Eliot #rude #whatever

.......why the hell would Elias code that shit in Circle short hand? So other Circle members, who Jocelyn was hiding from, could easily open that super important safe? So smart! Also, correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't Luke in the Circle as well? Shouldn't he be able to read that, too?

1) Eliot is such a loser and a showoff for ostentatiously writing that J in Jocelyn 2) His hint is seriously “Don't open with brute force.” Wtf kind of hint is that man are you even real.

I'm sorry, okay, but everytime I see / hear Bellicosi I think Maxi-Cosi XD

*glares at 3x15* Will I ever tire of raging about that episode? Unlikely.

Why.....? Since he didn't have any problem 100% blaming Raphael for everything Heidi did (not unjustified, but I'm just saying he's suddenly changed his mind). I mean, if he'd said she's dangerous to him and his family that would've been another matter.

These are all runes that I don't remember seeing on the Shadowhunters' Wiki Rune Page. Please tell me more.

Jace: “Clary, you've been going nonstop since you came back. You need to take a minute.”

lol if only Jace would implement the same advice himself.

“Wow I suddeny remember I had a life before I was 10.”

German Dubbing: Yeah, the ones Consul Penhallow categorically ignored. Honestly. Who dubbs this shit. Wtf.

Listen I love everything about this scene. (Fun Fact: In the German Dubbing she says vampire addiction, not venom addiction lol as if she was addicted to vampires XD)

Alec Lightwood, best brother of the year. Btw he's been holding that title since birth. I also don't think Alec would ever judge Izzy for her addiction / look at her as if she's weak, so the fact that she thinks that says a lot about how the addiction affected her self-image.

Too bad Alec forgets this for the next few episodes and acts like a total tool in that Clave Investigation Thing, smh.

Good to know.

Haha that was witty.

Oooooh why don't they ask another warlock then? For example one who's actually always the smartest person in the room?? Who's also willing to work on this??? Just a thought tho, don't let me interrupt the Maruke Bonding. No, you know what? I hate the shipname Maruke, it's shit, so I'm calling it Luryse as it should have been called. Then again, when am I even gonna talk about that pairing? We shall see.

“Outrageous, just because people around me keep turning up dead! It's ridiculous, really, that they'd think I could have something to do with that. It's as if they're not aware this is a TV show and supporting characters die because *Moriarty Voice* THAT'S WHAT PEOPLE DO!”

“That what the kids call it these days when they get kicked out on their ass?” She literally says “From one exiled to another” so she clearly realized he's full of shit.

“And that's why in two episodes Imma get myself arrested by behaving like a dumbass and then chill in prison as if it's my greatest accomplishment.” Honestly Luke, so many No-s. I can't even.

“Wow I can't believe I have to see this Luryse bs up close.” Hah, now I used the right shipname and can move the f on from bashing that pairing. Sorry about that. I'm sleep deprived. That always makes me extra salty.

“When you're alpha you need to make the pack your first priority. Your personal life needs to take a back seat. And mine never did.” I applaud Luke for admitting he was a shit alpha because he didn't proritize the pack. Hindsight is 20/20.

Wow Luke so helpful <3<3<3 Just like I know and love you.

I also love how nobody questions that Heidi bit that mundane and then chilledly made a phone call at the scene of her Accords-violating crime. How frakking convenient.

But their runes aren't on the same side. Sloppy work. Also, if the illustrator obviouly takes artistic liberties, then the rune missing on the second pic doesn't have to mean anything. Maybe they just forgot to draw it. Then again this isn't even the most flimsy conclusion-making I've wittnessed on this show so I'll let it slide.

lol Jace and Jonathan are basically playing tug of war with Clary: Jonathan burning himself, Jace activating her healing rune XD

Ooooh brainless S1 Clary, how I have not missed you. Srsly now? Carve it out? That didn't work for Simon so why should it now? lol she should ask the seelie queen if she has some handy floor mosaic thingy in her courtyard to help with that.

In his defense, he moved.

It's not gonna work is what it is. Srsly how dumb are they? Why the hell does she think something so powerful can just be carved out?? Wtf.

Woooow they're using a rune removing device, color me impressed. I really thought they'd just put a scalpel to it. So, at least points for trying.

Uuuuh get some morphin, try again. I mean. But anyway.

*break up

......didn't she just break up with him because pack reasons? Where is that not a Shadow World Reason? Please explain. (Also choosing an unflattering screen cap of Simon because he annoys me? Absolutely. I am petty like that.) The easy way Simon accepts their break up really makes me wonder. If Maia hadn't said anything, would he have broken up with her? Since apparently things “changed” and they could “both” “feel” it. Honestly. He literally calls her his girlfriend at the start of the scene as if to draw attention to how ridiculous this is.

You know what, I don't even have the energy to rage about this. Their relationship was so great, they were so supportive of each other, they had great chemistry, great communication, they always stood by each other. And just because Sizzy has to be endgame there were suddenly weird-ass tension between them for no real reason – none that 3A Saia wouldn't have worked through like pros anyway – just so this break up wouldn't come out of absolutely nowhere. It's shit treatment of both their characters and their relationship and I'm just so exasperated with it all. (Also not the way to endear me to Sizzy. But at this point I feel like a broken record.)

Discount? It was free. Which I'm still finding super hard to believe by the way, that a werewolf establishment would just give out free food to vampires who don't even work there. But what do I know, right, I mean it's not like they just mentioned a few minutes ago how werewolves and vampires hate each other? Right?? Hahaha.

Wow. This actually takes the time to highlight that this break up wasn't as amicable as Simon thought. Maybe he thought that they were breaking up for human reasons, but Maia clearly feels she threw her relationship away for the pack and it's hard for her. And Simon's tirade wasn't really encouraging her to let him know that. I really appreciate that detail.

Other things I want to say: 1) I didn't like that Maia just flat out broke up with him. She should have informed him that she was going to step up for the pack and would have to prioritize that over their relationship and then leave it up to him if he wants to put up with that or not. By breaking up she made the choice for him. Her course of action is ic, I'm not critizising that, but from like, a personal stand point I don't like it. 2) Foreshadowing: Since her whole pack gets slaughtered, if that would have been the only reason to break up with Simon she coulda just gotten back together with him lol. Haha sorry I'm trash. I know.

Wow he's really dumb. He knows Heidi's brand of crazy and still he doesn't realize this was a trap. He said himself that Heidi must have done something for the Preator to be after her, and when the Praetor tells him she's been leaving copses left and right he...... takes this as his cue to ally himself with Heidi??? Wtf?????? Does he not believe what Jordan said? Again, he suspected something like that himself and since the Praetor are playing at being the Downworlder Police they wouldn't just make something like that up with no proof. The heck. I don't get you, Boss Vampire Guy.

Also, thumbs down for the Praetor, if they'd just told them their source was Heidi herself (on the phone) this could have been prevented. But, ugh. With how things are I can at least kinda buy that no working communication between vampire clan and Praetor exists.

Still, if the Praetor wants to be accepted as some kind of Shadow World Institution they should really work on their manners.

.................................................

I I don-- I can't. *sigh* I can't believe I just had to watch this with my own two eyes. Have they not been trained for a case like this? A fellow shadowhunter injured in the field? That activating the healing rune should be the first thing you do? Before lovingly prying information from the dying person?? I mean, if that's not Plot Convenience then I don't know what is. Sure, he needs to give them a snippet of info, but not too much. But please, please, couldn't writers have found a way for this that didn't make them look like the stupidest of idiots in the entire frikkin world?! Wtf. WTF. I can't believe it.

Uuuuuuh how did she know how to turn those things if all she had to work with was Don't use brute force?? Do I have to understand that?

“You brought coffee, after all.”

Look she's so ashamed she even turned away from the screen haha. Also it's so refreshing to see grown ass people approach a relationship like idiotic teens. (Yeah, that was sarcastic.)

“And right now I wanna do you.” Hahahaha sorry, too good to pass up, you can bet your ass imma turn this into a dumb comic XD

“I love you, Clary. And I'll love you until I die. And if there's a life after this I'll love you then, too.”

Okay, I wanted to roll my eyes at their love confession, but what Jace said was actually really sweet <3

Alec: All our people were accounted for at the time of the murder. Izzy: We think it was a Clave hit.

Oh couldn't have been one of the millions of Shadowhunters from another Institute? No, I'm sure Alec checked that on their neat little Shadowhunter Intranet, that all other Shadowhunters all over the workd were accounted for as well. Honestly.

Also, Maryse says “By the angel,” but in the German Dubbing she says “What the angel” which makes it seem as if Shadowhunters curse by replacing dirty words with “angel” and just... what the angel XD

Why the hell are they all so obsessed with Latin? Ugh. Exhausting hobby.

Btw lol, please rewatch that scene, the background music is weirdly reminiscent of the Stranger Things Theme hahahaha. (Also omg I'm peeking into the German dubbing and it doesn't even make SENSE hahaha what the shit.)

LOL that's like the soulmate trope but in painful XD basically the creepy incest edition XD But honestly can we appreciate what a nice hand Jonathan has with a knife and with his left hand?? Prodigy.

This is it, the final proof that they actually all live at the Jade Wolf hahahha.

...................................? Why the f is she happy to see Jordan? Last time they saw each other she clearly stated she hated him?? Do I need to understand?? Oh right. In the books Maia and Jordan get back together. Right. Stupid, why am I even surprised by this??

Wtf isn't he the clan leader? Why the hell is he acting so submissively to Heidi all of a sudden? Literally half a day ago he threw her out of his clan, knowing his place. And now he's like a puppet on her strings. Wtf. But I guess that happens when you treat characters as plot devices. They get inconsistent even if they only have two scenes. *sigh*

Awwww would you look at that, werewolves and vampires fighting with fists like mundanes. (Okay some of them had like, daggers, but where are the fangs and the claws? Honestly.)

Okay I did her injustice in my trailer reaction since this is a vamp and a legitimate fight situation.

Wow that actually surprised me. But Jordan also dies in the books so, oops. Just didn't think they'd skip the getting together.

WOW that really surprised me. I thought Maia would challenge him and they'd have an epic fight to the death or something. (Also wtf Griffin guy, what's with that creeper face.)

To be honest I find it hard to believe that Maia acts like this. Scared out of her mind, yeah sure. But she acts helpless, and she's never been that. When she got that pipe thing I thought she'd use it as a stake. Using it to block the door is smart, too, but why didn't she get another to have a stake? Her whole posture, uselessly hangig over Jordan screams damsel in distress and I don't like it at all.

Edit: I had certain fears how this plotline would be developed in 3x14 which thankfully didn't come true, but my conflicted opinion on this ending scene remains.

Anyway let’s take a moment and appreciate Maia’s Killer Boots.

BTW watched the 3x14 trailer and just.... what. Why the f would Magnus ask Lorenzo of all people for help? He can't be trusted. As if he wouldn't use that opportunity to break Magnus even further! WTF! Where's Catarina? Oh, let me guess, another Drunk Doctor Conference *epic eyeroll*

#shadowhunters #3x13 #clary fray #magnus bane #alec lightwood #jace wayland #isabelle lightwood #simon lewis #maia roberts #luke garroway #maryse lightwood #kyle #heidi #reaction

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amandaoftherosemire · 6 years

Text

Sing For Me - Chapter Thirty-one

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X OFC (Sasha)

Characters: Bucky Barnes, OFC Sasha

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 6,337 (WTF, Amanda?)

Format: Series (Complete)

Warning: Smut, 18+ only, angst, fluff. Trigger warning: allusions to rape, sexual abuse, mentions of violence and murder, abandonment of children, abuse.

Summary: Sasha tries to meditate. Bucky interrupts.

A/N: Not consistent with Marvel canon. Wow! This chapter turned out way, way longer than I intended. I couldn’t stop, though, because the lovely and amazing @hellzzzbelle made the beautiful banner up top and completely inspired me. Thank you, gorgeous!! Hey, everyone! Love her! 😊

Sing For Me Masterlist

Chapter Thirty here

Chapter Thirty-one

Sasha sat on top of her meditation table and stared out over the horizon. She'd pulled her hair out of its bun because she wanted to feel the wind in it, but she rarely did so anymore. When she was indoors, she couldn't stand the feel of her own hair on her skin. She had taken her therapist's advice and refused to worry about it. It had only been a few weeks; she wasn't going to get better overnight.

Neither was Zoe, but she had the best child psychiatrists money could buy, thanks to Tony. Also, thanks to Tony, Zoe's adoption was being pushed through in record time. He'd thrown money at lawyers, called in favors, and only he (and Steve due to the need for his cooperation in a bribe) knew what else to get Zoe the stability she needed as quickly as possible. Though it was only Sasha's name on the paperwork, The Avengers were adopting Zoe.

The adoption was also going through without a hitch. Sasha had a squeaky-clean record, aside from a penchant for speeding. Her only brush with the law could not be used against her as her actions had been deemed justifiable. As Sasha was technically Zoe's next of kin, no one could argue she didn't have the right. With Tony's money and Steve's support behind her, she was unstoppable.

Hell, she wouldn’t hesitate to kidnap Zoe if they wouldn’t let her adopt the little girl. Sasha gave literally no fucks. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Zoe needed her. If nothing else good could come of everything that had happened, she'd make damn sure Zoe had everything Sasha could give her, even down to a superhero family.

Sasha realized now, seeing the events of her parents’ lives through Valentin’s sick and obsessive eyes, how lucky she’d been to be the firstborn. If it had been possible for her and Zoe’s mother to love anyone, it seemed she had once loved their father, Luis. Sasha had been born during that time, and Alexandra had made sure to find a loving family for their daughter to please him.

Katie had fared far, far worse. Conceived purely as an experiment, her father had been chosen by Valentin solely for his lack of resemblance to Sasha’s father. Luis had learned of some of Alexandra’s less than savory activities and had left her. She hadn’t known that Valentin, insanely jealous, had made sure Luis found the evidence of her cozy relationship with arms dealers.

Less than a year from the night he had confronted her before storming out, Katie was born. By that time, Alexandra had come to hate the child she carried. A woman with an extraordinary dearth of human decency and lacking even a shred of maternal instinct, she’d done no research on the people she paid to take Katie.

Once she’d given Katie to them, she never checked on her again. It was Valentin who payed them to keep her alive, if not well, until she was what he deemed old enough with the promise of a lump sum later. That lump sum had payed when she was fifteen.

To Katie’s horrific misfortune, that was when Valentin’s perverse desire for their mother had been frustrated to the point that he’d become willing to settle for a proxy. Worse, with red hair dyed blonde and freckles covered with makeup Katie was a dead ringer for their mother.

One night, during a blazing row over news of Sasha’s attempted suicide, Alexandra discovered how twisted and sick Valentin’s obsession with her had become. Katie had accompanied him that night, as she had numerous times before. Never had their mother recognized her, but this time, she looked into a face that shared her bone structure if not her complexion and saw her own flesh and blood.

Alexandra had known of his desire for her since she was sixteen years old. She had used it against him to join and climb the ranks of HYDRA to a position of wealth and power. As twisted as he, she had enjoyed controlling him with it. Discovering how completely out of that control he really was had enraged her. That night, when she coldly informed him that their association was at an end, he snapped and showed her exactly how he thought of her and her daughters as belonging to him.

Rejected for what would become the last time, he took by force that which Alexandra had always denied him before choking the life from her. At his command, her daughter had been forced to watch. She had done so with dry eyes. Her emotionless demeanor unless otherwise directed would earn her rewards and freedoms. She'd undoubtedly learned long before that night to take what she could when she could. Sasha couldn't blame her for it, especially considering their mother.

At his persuasion Alexandra had abandoned Zoe in front of a hospital only three days before.

Tears flowed freely down Sasha’s cheeks and she did nothing to check them. She knew she’d been shutting down and pulling away. She had felt so tainted by what she’d done to Val, so ugly inside that she hadn't been able to help it. Tormented by memories of what had been done to her, she felt eaten alive by hate and rage. It made it impossible to feel remorse for the way she'd killed Valentin. Unable to feel anything but cold indifference, she had wondered if Val had succeeded in breaking her after all.

Wracked by the dark hate that gnawed constantly at her heart, she didn't know if she'd have allowed Bucky to touch her if he could still feel her emotions. She may have avoided him more carefully and with more zeal than he ever displayed in avoiding her. It would have broken her heart, but she hadn’t thought she could bear to put more dark on him. He already carried too much and blamed himself for far too much of it.

She was done with that now.

Sasha knew that what she had done to Valentin had been necessary. As long as he had lived, he would have been a threat to both her and Zoe, but he had been an immediate threat to Katie. Sasha was not going to feel guilty for killing her sister's tormentor and securing her permanent escape. And she was no longer going to accept that pain was her due for destroying a monster. She could deal with everything else.

Sasha couldn't help but be cynically amused that it had taken her mother's horrific story to snap her out of her spiral. She knew better than anyone that dark didn't negate light, couldn't smother it, no matter how hard it tried. She knew because she'd touched the inner heart of a man who carried both in equal measure and still loved with everything he had. With a quiet snort, she realized she'd been an idiot, in exactly the same way Bucky had so many months before when he flirted with her long-lost sister to protect her from himself. Her life was a goddamn farce sometimes.

Her face softened when she thought of how it had felt to share her talent with him. From the moment the link between them had flared to life, Sasha had felt like something deep inside her resonated in harmony with the hum she felt from him. She missed it, missed him. Her mind finally clear, she felt the loss in a way she hadn't allowed herself until now. If she could get her power back tomorrow, she'd leap at the chance. If all she could get back was the link with Bucky, she'd take it and be satisfied.

A little spitefully, she pulled in a slow deep breath and tried to clear her mind. Afraid to be alone with her own thoughts, Sasha had stopped meditating entirely. She thought now as the muscles in her shoulders relaxed that she had made a serious mistake in doing so. No matter what the future brought, she needed to get her mind back under her control.

That mind, so full of thoughts clamoring for attention when she had climbed up on her table, began slowly to clear. She focused on her breaths knowing she could let her mind relax now that she had acknowledged the noisiest thoughts. Letting the quieter ones come, she decided to start there and not push on her first try after so many months.

Bucky. He’d looked so sad that morning when he’d woken her that she’d been moving to kiss the shadows in his eyes away before she’d been fully awake. She was worrying him. She knew how and why, but she hadn’t known how to stop.

Feeling like a burden, Sasha had been terrified to tell him how much she relied on him to keep her halfway sane. She couldn't tell him that waking to his face every morning was some days the only thing that made getting out of bed possible. She couldn’t tell him that watching him gently tease smiles out of Zoe was how she made it through the day when just going through the motions was all she could manage.

She couldn’t tell him that he was one of the few bright spots of joy that reminded her that just because it felt hopeless didn’t mean it always would. She’d put so much on him when he already carried more than his share. How could she add any more?

He couldn’t know that her greatest fear wasn’t that her power was damaged beyond repair. Her greatest fear was that he’d one day wake up and realize she brought far more dark than light to his life. She’d never try to hold him, but she’d also never get over him. She’d love Bucky Barnes with everything she had until the day she died.

She smirked. She may not try to hold him, but she was back to planning new ways to persuade him. She recalled that he was a big fan of her in stockings and tiny skirts. However, she had discovered that by being petty and jealous over Katie. She still didn’t feel bad about that, but that briefing had been for the doomed mission that took her from him. She couldn’t be sure that the memory of that day hadn’t been tainted for him.

One of her favorite memories, Sasha didn't resist when her mind turned to how he had looked at her that day. Being the focus of that kind of single-minded heat and diabolical mouth made her desperately hope that she still had that in her arsenal. As she relived the memory, warmth tingled over her skin and in her belly. Had her mind not been so utterly still otherwise, she would never have noticed the deeper tingling along the back of her neck. Her mouth spread in a hopeful smile.

"I'm completely out of practice so you're not interrupting anything."

Bucky started when Sasha spoke. He had thought he had caught her unawares. He had intended to make his presence known, but she had looked so peaceful, even dreamy, though the smug smile on her face for some reason he couldn’t name had made his heart beat faster. Regardless, he hadn't been able to make himself break the spell. Something about the tilt of her head, the whip of midnight hair in the wind made his heart clutch and stopped his voice in his throat.

He knew now what that clutch meant. It was love, pure and simple. The clutch came in the moments he felt most keenly how he had changed not only because he loved her, but because she loved him. She'd left her imprint on him as surely as though she'd branded him. He didn't know how to tell her, how to ask her if she felt the same. Maybe it had been too easy in the beginning. They'd had a leg up and now they didn't know how to talk to each other about the things eating at them.

"Why did you stop?" Bucky asked instead, cursing himself for avoiding the conversation yet again. Coward, he thought.

Sasha turned her head to look at him and her eyes were clear and focused. She had the same look she had worn when she'd kissed him so sweetly in the lab. Her voice was a touch dry, but serene and matter of fact. "With my talent gone, I thought I didn't need to meditate anymore. Plus, I didn’t want to. Being alone with myself made me sick to my stomach."

Surprised that she'd volunteered such an honest expression of her feelings without having it dragged out of her and hopeful for more, he prompted, "What changed your mind?"

Her eyes crinkling with laughter, she winked at him. "Getting righteously pissed." Her face softened into an expression so tender it made his throat ache before shifting to that laser focused look she'd worn earlier in the lab.

Sasha tilted her head and continued to look coyly over her shoulder as her smile curved into a tempting bow rich with promise. She completely took his breath. Her voice a low rasp, she purred, “Tell me something.”

Bucky was unsure of his moves. He’d never say he’d lost his Shurochka. More, it was like shadows had dimmed her. She spoke more softly, moved more slowly. She rarely sang, and she never danced. Even with him she still shied away when touched. All these weeks she had needed warmth, not heat.

This, however, this was something that had that heat racing over his skin and his muscles locking. He didn’t try to move from his place in the doorway in case he was reading her wrong. “What do you want to know?”

“Do you still have that picture you took of me?”

Bucky’s eyebrows lifted, and he scoffed. “You think I’d delete it? And take a knife to the Mona Lisa?”

Sasha laughed, and Bucky wanted to close his eyes and bask in it. She had thrown her head back and laughed out loud with nothing held back. Every moment he spent with her today gave him hope. He didn’t care if it lasted an hour or a week; even a moment was enough.

Her eyes were sparkling and seeming to beckon him closer and he straightened before he thought better of it. Her smile widened. “Was it the stockings, the garters, the skirt, or all three?”

“Yes.”

Sasha’s smile now held amused affection as well as sultry welcome. “In that case.” As she spoke, she turned until she was facing Bucky and uncurled her legs until they were hanging off the edge of the table, twitching the folds of her robe to keep her them covered. “Tell me something else. How often did you watch me meditate?”

Bucky glanced at Sasha’s covered legs ruefully. He definitely wouldn’t bet she was seducing him now. She knew her legs were his downfall. A little embarrassed, he shrugged as red crept up his face. “Every chance I got.”

She tilted her head. She’d figured he’d done so occasionally but didn’t expect this. Her heart fluttered, and her sultry look was replaced by that same intense focus. “For how long?”

“Months.” He answered almost absently, caught by that sharp light in her eyes. This laser focus was something brand new and he didn’t know what it meant.

Sasha could tell he was worrying again. As that was what she was actively trying to alleviate, she told herself to stop being coy. Curling her hands around the edge of the table, her expression shifted to her sly siren smile.

Bucky quivered in response. He nearly lost his battle to stay where he was when she spoke. “And in all that time, did you ever think about coming out here? Did you ever wonder what I was wearing under my robe?” With this she crossed her legs slowly. The fabric parted to reveal her bare legs up to the thigh and Bucky considered it the best invitation he’d ever received.

Moving slowly toward her, he searched her face for denial or hesitation. “All the damn time.” Finding neither, he didn’t stop until he was in front of her.

Her siren smile had faded to be replaced with a look of such blazing intensity Bucky had to remind himself to be gentle as reached for her. Sasha uncrossed her legs and parted her thighs for him. “Did you picture it?” Breathless, she arched into him as he stepped between her legs, his hands on her knees. “Did you imagine what I might let you do to me if you only asked?”

Bucky broke. Tempting at the worst of times, he couldn’t resist Sasha when she pulled out the sultry vixen. “Kitten, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about it. About sliding my hands up your amazing legs to-“ As he spoke he made good on his words, gliding his palms up under her robe. “-god! find nothing but you under there.” His hands had found no barrier to his touch and he rested his forehead against hers as he gripped her thighs. His eyes were dark blue pools of lust as they met hers. “About tearing every stitch off of you. About laying you back on that table and fucking you until you’re screaming my name.”

Sasha’s arms crept around his neck as she replied, her voice throaty. “You know I love it when you talk dirty to me.” Not waiting for a response, she pulled his mouth down to hers and kissed him with a tender fury.

Bucky was lost. His Shurochka had her hands in his hair and was kissing him like she needed him to breathe. He wrapped his flesh hand around the thigh that she had snaked around his waist while his vibranium hand fisted in her hair to drag her head back. He stared into her avid eyes and growled. “Did you imagine it? Did you want me to come out here and try to touch you?”

Spellbound and adrift in the aquamarine seas of her eyes, Bucky didn’t notice the way his palm heated as the cool vibranium skimmed over the nape of her neck. Those mermaid eyes were warm and greedy and muddled his mind. On the edge of giving her anything, her response had him tumbling over.

“Yes,” she moaned as her hands dropped to fumble with the tie holding her robe closed. “I lost my focus every time I caught the edge of your energy.” Sasha spread the edges of her robe slowly, thrilling to the excitement burning in Bucky’s eyes as her golden skin was revealed inch by inch. “I’ve been yours for the taking since the first time.”

Bucky’s eyes had been roving over her, delighting in the silent offer as much as the sight of her velvet skin. At her words, however, his eyes snapped to hers as his hands roamed roughly over her body. “Are you, Sasha?” he asked with an intensity that belied the fear behind the question. “Are you mine?”

"Yes." She breathed it against the skin of his throat as her hands delved beneath the hem of his t-shirt to dig into the muscles of his back and pull him closer. Being naked but for the purple silk that had slipped from her shoulders and halfway down her arms while he was still fully dressed was almost unbearably erotic.

Shuddering with need, Bucky dropped his forehead to her shoulder and growled as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of her ass to pull her to the edge of the table. “Say it, kitten.” Closing his teeth gently around the cords of her throat, his grip on his control nearly slipped as she quaked and moaned. “I need to hear it.”

"I’m yours. Only yours." Sasha took his face in her hands and looked into his eyes, her gaze fierce as she spoke without hesitation. The raspy sound of her voice shivered along his skin, but her words had his heart trembling. He hadn't known how badly he'd needed to hear her say it just like that.

Unable to stop himself even had he wanted to, Bucky slanted his lips over hers greedily. Her mouth opened avidly at the glide of his tongue over her lower lip. With a groan of mindless need, he drank from her mouth like he was dying of thirst as his hands pressed her thighs apart to open her to his touch.

Breath heaving, he tore his mouth from hers when her hands dropped to drag frantically at his belt. Her mouth immediately went to work at his throat, her breath sobbing. Her hands were warm and soft as they dipped beneath his waistband to close around him. Her lips against his skin she whispered, “I want you, Bucky. Now.”

Bucky instinctively moved his metal hand from her thigh to the table beside her. The wood splintered as his fingers clenched around the edge. A tremor of pure lust wracked his body and his flesh arm shot around her waist to drag her as close as possible despite her hands still softly stroking him.

“You’re killing me, doll.” Bucky started to pull her up, intending to take her to their bed. However, her hand tightened around him and he froze in place as she wrapped her legs firmly around him.

“No. Right here.” Her head tilted back, and she was wearing her siren smile. He wondered if he’d ever be able to resist her when she looked at him that way.

“Babygirl,” he moaned. He was trying to think clearly, but her touch was making him crazy. “The cameras.”

“I already turned them off,” she smirked. He hadn’t known she had access to control of the external cameras, but he didn’t question it. Sasha knew FRIDAY’s programming almost as well as Tony.

Now that he knew they weren’t under surveillance, any reserve he had left evaporated. However, he had been nothing but gentle with Sasha since the day they got her back. Bucky hesitated, afraid of losing control and hurting her.

Sasha may have no longer been able to sense his feelings, but she hadn’t spent her life steeped in the emotions of others to learn nothing. She knew how careful he’d been and why. It had been exactly what she needed. Now, however, she wanted him to let go. “Give me everything, Bucky,” she rasped as she pulled his boxer briefs lower. “Don’t hold anything back.”

Trembling at the feel of her thumb moving in circles over his tip, Bucky let go of the table to slip his metal hand between her thighs. When he gently slid his forefinger through her folds he nearly broke at the feel of her slick arousal. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you. Or…”

“You won’t,” she said softly, cutting him off. The feel of him touching her so carefully was exciting, but not what she needed. She bucked her hips to urge him on. “You can’t hurt me. I’ll beg if you want.”

At that, Bucky’s eyes narrowed, and he growled. “You beg for nothing. You hear me, Sasha? Nothing.” By now, Sasha had worked his jeans far enough down his hips to free him entirely to her touch and was spurring him on with every rough stroke.

Bucky could barely think straight, let alone remember why he was hesitating. She was tempting him with every touch, every look, every word and he gave in without further thought or protest. Moving swiftly, he took her hips in his hands and pushed forward, Sasha’s hands guiding him into her.

“Is this what you wanted, kitten?” he asked as he surged almost roughly into her. “Is this what you need?”

Sasha exulted at the feel of him sliding into her. Feeling more alive than she had in months, she fisted her hands in his hair and rocked her hips to encourage him. “I need you to fuck me, my love.” Her voice was a low rasp and her words broke every barrier he had left. With a growl, he took her hips in a grip so tight it was nearly painful as he began to pound into her.

Bucky, still terrified to hurt or frighten her, would have forced himself to ease back, give her tenderness but her elated whimpers of pleasure urged him on. The feel of her hands in his hair, her body moving almost violently against his splintered his control and left him recklessly aroused.

“Fuck!” he growled in her ear. Her soft moans were driving him mad. “So tight and wet. Like this sweet cunt was made for only me. Have I not been taking good care of you, kitten?”

Sasha couldn’t answer, the surge of Bucky’s body against hers wiping her mind clean of everything but the fire that had flared to life between them. Since she had returned to him, every gentle touch had been like a balm over her wounded heart, but until now she hadn’t realized that Val had left behind smudges. With her skin going molten under Bucky’s hands and every blazing breath dragging his scent into lungs starved for it, she finally felt those smudges start to fade.

Sasha’s inability to respond with anything but mindless moans only fueled the blaze that seared away Bucky’s fear and hesitation. Barely able to think, words spilled from his mouth unbidden and unexamined. “Don’t you know, Sasha? All I want is you. I’d give you anything in return.”

Bucky’s eyes were narrowed and focused on Sasha’s face. The sight of gold dust skin warmed with an apricot flush and sea-witch eyes glowing with desire drug him closer to the edge with every moment. Sasha, already on the edge, tipped over when Bucky’s flesh hand, unable to resist the waves of sable silk he now so rarely got to touch, fisted in her hair and tugged her head back to fasten his teeth on her throat.

“Bucky!” Hips bucking and back arching, Sasha shuddered as she came, his name a triumphant cry. Before her abduction, sex with Bucky had always been a raw and earthy thing. Mind, heart, and body celebrated to recover even a fraction of that wild heat, let alone this inferno.

Bucky stopped moving to feel her pleasure work through her. When her eyes opened and focused on his as the shudders of pleasure eased, Bucky flashed his million-watt smile. Sasha smiled dreamily back, and love blew through him like light. “Call me James, babygirl. I love the way you say my name when I’m inside you.” Bucky wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, gently at first but soon his mouth was moving feverishly over hers.

Sasha tightened around him, arms, legs, and core and moaned against his mouth. “More, James. More!”

Bucky quaked against her, the sound of her voice shivering down his spine. Giving in to both her demand and his need, he began to move again. “Yes,” he growled, “exactly like that. Are you gonna come for me again? Are you gonna let me feel you squeeze me, kitten?”

This, this is what Sasha had wanted, what she needed: Bucky moving roughly against and into her, his arms tight around her and his low rumble urging her towards ecstasy. She’d needed to know he still wanted her with that same untamed passion. “James!”

“God! Fuck! Again. I want to feel it again, babygirl.” Bucky felt like he was losing his mind. Any worry he may have had that he was being too rough, too feral was destroyed at the look of fierce delight on Sasha’s face and the sobbing pleasure with which she screamed his name.

Finally letting go, he pressed her back until she was lying on the table, arching and moaning at every near violent thrust. Heedlessly, he growled into her ear as he pounded into her harder and faster, her hips gleefully snapping to his to meet each thrust. “You’re mine, Sasha. I need to hear you say it. Mine.”

“Yours, Bucky. I’m yours.” As she spoke, her climax overtook her again, the last word coming out on a shuddering moan. The combination of her words and the moan of pleasure with which she said them poured though Bucky like molten gold and drug him bucking and moaning over the edge with her.

As they rocked gently together to prolong the connection, Bucky turned his face into her neck and whispered, “Yours, Sasha. I’m yours.”

Sasha giggled. Bucky lifted his head grinning. He hadn’t heard that happy sound in long enough he had begun to fear he never would again. Sasha lay beneath him, her hair a wild tangle and her eyes sparkling like sunlight on tropical seas. Looking into those eyes warm with adoration, he felt the cold place inside him where he’d shoved the despairing dread ease.

“You’d already turned the cameras off? Was this the plan?”

Sasha face moved into a sly, feline smile and Bucky’s heart clutched again. “Why else would I be wearing a robe in the middle of the afternoon?”

As he straightened, Bucky pulled her up with him to carry her into the bedroom. “Good plan.”

A little while later, Bucky sat on the couch in the living area to wait for Sasha to dress as he tried to figure out how to ask her what caused the change in her demeanor. He wanted to know, but he was terrified that asking would destroy it.

When she walked in wearing a long-sleeved version of one of the swing dresses she seemed to have in infinite supply and her hair in a thick braid down her back, the sweet smile on her face had Bucky smiling helplessly back. She took the seat next to him and snuggled in to his chest with a hum of contentment. Bucky decided he didn’t care why as long as she was happy and wrapped her close.

“Did you see the video?” he asked, hoping to keep her happy as long as possible.

Sasha lifted her head to grin cheerfully at him. He’d had FRIDAY send her video of Zoe’s best shot, in the red rings just outside the bullseye. “I did! Our girl’s got a knack, doesn’t she?”

Bucky couldn’t help but feel warm at hearing Sasha refer to Zoe as ‘our girl’. “Apparently terrible aim doesn’t run in the family,” he teased.

Her eyes narrowed to a playful glare. “I don’t have to be able to hit the eye of a gnat at a hundred yards to make your life miserable and don’t you forget it. Dick.”

Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about something she’d said and spoke before he could think better of it. “Do you miss it? The energy?”

“Of course.” If she was surprised at the sudden change to the subject, she didn’t show it. “But every day something you say or do, or some expression will cross your face, or the light will catch your eyes just right and I remember it like I felt it yesterday. It’s part of me.”

“Shurochka.” Bucky paused, afraid to continue but also unsure that Sasha would be this open later. “When I woke up this morning, you weren’t wrapped around me like usual.”

Her mouth twisted with a touch of bitterness and he cursed himself for not being able to leave it alone before she was answering, her voice trembling slightly. “I had a nightmare. It was something I haven’t told you about. I pulled away rather than talk about it.”

“Doll.” He spoke softly and gently tightened his arms around her, grateful when she cuddled close. “You can tell me anything. That doesn’t mean you have to.”

“I’m not ready. I don’t know when I will be.”

“Sash-“ He started to reassure her, his heart aching at the sadness in her voice, when she spoke.

“I was trying to protect you.”

Bucky stayed silent, afraid to speak lest she stop, as she told him everything she’d kept hidden inside. As she spoke, her arms came around him to hold tight. No matter how hard it was to say aloud, she knew she needed to share with him all of the ugly and frightened parts of herself if she wanted them to have a chance. When she was done, her face was wet with tears, but her heart was lighter.

For a long moment, Bucky considered how to respond as he held her close. He didn’t know that his silence was wearing on her nerves like sandpaper on a sunburn. If he says ‘okay’, I will kill him, she thought.

“I thought I was losing you and I was too scared to say anything in case I made it worse,” he said, finally.

A wave of guilt washed over her. She knew she’d been worrying him, but she hadn’t known she’d been hurting him. She couldn’t imagine a world where she didn’t love Bucky, but he couldn’t know that. She shifted to her knees and took his face in her hands. If she couldn’t share how she felt, she’d have to tell him. If she wanted to repair the damage her silence had caused, she’d have to lay herself bare in a way she never had before, with anyone.

Bucky’s breath caught as Sasha cradled his face in her hands and looked at him with that laser focus she’d worn off and on all day. As his hands settled around her waist, she began to speak, voice low and throbbing with emotion. “Val would go on and on about how I belonged to him. But I didn’t, because I already belonged to you. I love you, Bucky. I’ll never love anyone the way I love you. I’m yours. Today, tomorrow…” She took a deep breath and leapt, praying he wouldn’t let her fall. “Forever, if you want.”

Bucky’s eyes blazed. “Forever,” he murmured as his flesh hand reached up to brush his thumb over the thin white scar that still marred her cheek. “That might be long enough.”

Sasha was giggling as his vibranium hand slid around to her back to press her against his chest. The sweet sound stopped when his lips met hers and she sank into him with her happy Sasha hum.

As she snuggled back into his chest and tucked her head under his chin, Bucky could almost swear he felt that touch of devotion he missed so much.

“I had a moment of clarity as I stomped down to Starbucks today,” she said with a mischievous laugh touching her voice. “I’m embarrassed; it’s so dumb. I realized I’ve felt like there’s no way you could possibly be happy with me anymore, so I was pushing you away for your own good. Wait. Why does this sound so familiar?”

The impish sound of her voice told Bucky immediately where she was going with this. “Goddamnit.”

“Anyway, I’m sorry.” She wasn’t able to disguise even a little of the laugh in her voice at this point. “I was being just so stupid. Just so incredibly, unbelievably simple-minded. I can’t even fathom what I was thinking. Well, obviously I wasn’t thinking. That’s laughably clear.”

Bucky leaned back a little and to look at Sasha’s grinning profile. “Are you going to give me shit about that for the rest of our lives?”

Sasha tilted her head back and retorted with mock outrage. “Yes! My sister, Bucky! How could you?!”

His eyes narrowed as his heart soared. He’d missed playful Sasha so much. A wicked smile crossed his face as his fingers dug into her sides to tickle her mercilessly. With a squeal of laughter, she twisted to escape the torment, but he was there at every turn.

Once he’d tickled her breathless, she lay against his chest and grinned cheekily up at him. “So, how’re things with you?”

Bucky’s laugh rumbled under her cheek and made her heart sigh happily. “Not bad. I gotta say, when I got the “I need to talk to you” text message I did not expect it to be about sex on your meditation table.”

“Shit!” Chagrin washed over her as she realized what she’d done. “I totally sent you some of the most terrifying words in the English language. I’m an asshole.”

Bucky smirked. “Yeah, but at this point, you’re my asshole.”

“I actually do need to talk to you, though.” Sasha grew serious, but the glimmer of hope on her face had Bucky’s heart beating faster. “It wasn’t just a ruse. Tony and I remembered something today. We never took out the tracking chip. The vibranium chip.”

Bucky opened his mouth, but Sasha lifted a hand that kept him from demanding explanations.

“So, we went to the med-bay to check it out. It appears to have disintegrated into microscopic particles, probably when I got all melodramatic. Those particles have embedded themselves in my spine, some as deep as my spinal cord.”

Sasha could tell by the look on Bucky’s face that he understood. She couldn’t know that he was thinking of the times he’d thought he felt the brush of her emotions.

“Is there anything we can do?” he asked, the same hope he saw in her face taking root inside him. He loved Sasha, power or no, but he missed that connection more than he would have ever thought possible.

“I talked to Christine while Tony tapped the big guns. After looking at the scans she said only one person could even have had a chance.”

“Dr. Strange.”

Her lips twisted sadly, and his heart sank. “Did you know he was in a car accident last year that destroyed the fine motor control in his hands? He’s no longer practicing.”

“Shit. Who are the big guns?”

Sasha’s face lit up and he could see this was part of what had changed. Hope was a powerful thing. “No one in the world knows vibranium like Princess Shuri of Wakanda.”

Chapter Thirty-two here

Taglist:

@marvel-lucy @cheekygeek05 @lbouvet @lovely-geek @wantingtobekorra @diinofayce @ashesandfire @suz-123 @theresaskankinmyboot @ddysis @caplansteverogers @getbuckylucky @california-grown @rnr1274 @capandbuck @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @magellan-88 @mizzzpink @curiositywillbethedeathofmee @colie87 @bibliophile1773 @henrietteoaks

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x ofc #bucky barnes x ofc #fanfiction #fanfic #series wip #sing for me #angst #smut #fluff #pantswrites

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anthemverseduology · 4 years

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The Stranger and the Priest

“Tell us a story, Uncle Ven! Something really scary,” Valentine said, looking up at me from the pile of candy he'd just dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. He shared a name with another candy-adjacent holiday, but the boy was obsessed with all things Halloween. “Something with blood and guts and ooze!”

“Ew! Nothing gross!” Francine swatted Val on the shoulder, a look of annoyance twisting her features. “You always get stories about gross things! This year Uncle Ven should tell us something really spooky, not just icky.”

I leaned back in my chair, surveying the tiny audience that had gathered in front of where I sat next to the fireplace. My own daughter sat in the middle of the bunch, looking up at me expectantly. “Tell them the story of The Stranger and the Priest,” she suggested, opening her third mini box of Junior Mints before tossing three of them back at once.

“Cece, I don't know that everyone here is ready for that story. You know why,” I said, raising my eyebrows at her slightly.

“How come I don't know this story?” Taylor grumbled. My brother's son was the oldest of his generation of kids, but still not old enough to join the party upstairs with the older family members, and he was disgruntled at having to spend his pre-midnight hours with 'the babies'. “Dad's told me all of these old stories anyway.”

“You've never heard this one,” Cece said, rolling her eyes. “I know.”

“We know that you know, know-it-all,” Taylor snipped.

“Alright, cool your jets, Lore,” I said, holding up a hand as I leaned forward in my chair. “You're all sure that you're ready to hear this?” A chorus of happy shouts and rustling candy wrappers filled the air, and the flames in the fireplace roared a little higher.

“Tell them, Dad,” Cece said, sitting up straighter.

I took a deep breath, picking up my coffee from the table next to me taking a sip of the dark liquid. “It was many years ago, and a man of the cloth found himself sitting side-by-side with a dark stranger that he'd never seen before...”

***

The stranger's black hair was matted to his head, ribbons of rain ran down his face, and droplets gathered and steamed off of his warm skin. He shivered, wrapping his denim jacket around himself further, though it seemed to do the man no good. The bartender, Sal, walked over to lean his hands against the edge of the counter, eyeing the priest for a moment before taking the stranger's order. “Double whiskey, neat, and keep them coming,” the man said, the timbre of his voice low.

The priest turned to the man, offering his hand, which the man looked at suspiciously. “I'm Father Michael,” he said, smiling though he withdrew his suggested handshake, picking up his glass of whiskey on the rocks to tilt in the stranger's direction. “You look like a man with troubles.”

“You could say that again, padre,” the stranger said with a scoff as Sal set a glass down in front of him, filling it half-full with bottom-shelf whiskey. He shuddered hard before picking his glass up, draining the alcohol from it in one gulp. “I hate getting caught in the rain.”

“That's not all that's bothering you, is it?” Father Michael said, leaning back in his chair a little to study the man a little further. Every stitch of clothing the man wore, from his jacket down to the tips of his hard-heeled boots, was black; made darker by the amount of water soaking him. “Only priests, nuns, marauders, and mourners wear that much black. Which one are you? If you tell me you're a nun I'll eat my collar.”

“I gave up my habit for lent,” the man said with a humorless, curt laugh. Sal walked over to refill the stranger's glass, but the man held up his hand. “Listen, Sal, just leave the bottle.”

Father Michael watched curiously as the stranger pulled out a gold money clip that was full of large bills. The man took two-hundred dollars from the clip, handing it to Sal before shoving it back down into his pocket. “You intend to drink that whole bottle by yourself?” Father Michael asked, raising his eyebrows as Sal walked away with wide-eyes.

The stranger looked at him curiously before uncorking the bottle, pouring liquid into Father Michael's glass. “I find that having to depend on other people to pour my shots gets tedious. Don't mind so much pouring shots for other people, though,” he said almost wistfully.

“Forgive me for prying, but I've seen that look in many a soul's eyes. You've lost something or someone important. Might help you to talk about it. It's part of the gig to listen,” Father Michael said with a smirk as he raised his glass. “Even after office hours! I won't charge.”

“Well, as you're drinking whiskey I just purchased...” the man said chuckling lightly. “Maybe you're right? If anyone who's ever known me could see me talking to you right now, I'd be laughed all the way into Hell's Fire.”

“The people you know aren't big on the clergy?” Father Michael asked, leaning an elbow against the edge of the bar.

“They're elitists, and at that, I can't blame any of them. They're just following my poor examples,” the stranger said, shooting back whiskey from his glass. “And it's just the monotony of it all! The same cycles and routines, day in and day out. Nothing ever changes.”

“Well, as a person with a solid set of routines—day in and day out—I've seen that while my circumstances don't change, I change right in the middle of them,” Father Michael said, shrugging a shoulder slightly. “Maybe that's one reason you might be frustrated.”

“I know that I've out-grown my whole life, but it won't let me be. I have this job that I have to do, and no one else can be trusted with it. You certainly wouldn't approve of it,” the man said, pouring himself another glass full of alcohol.

“Eh, my approval doesn't mean as much as the guy I work for...I understand having a job that can be tough.” Father Michael frowned, tilting his head. “Sometimes I think about leaving the church. Brief moments when I wonder if there's something I'm missing. In those times, I pray and rededicate myself to what I really love above all else.”

“Heaven On High,” the stranger said, his voice barely a whisper. “I had that once. I loved who I was and what I was, and I would have done anything for a little bit of grace...”

“What changed?” Father Michael asked.

“Being on this planet is what changed me. At first, when I was young, I thought that I would get my revenge on anyone or anything that had ever wronged me. I'd be the monster they made me out to be. Over time, I don't want that anymore. I want peace. I have this dream sometimes about an angel,” the stranger said, his smile finally reaching his bright-blue eyes. “What's the use in chasing dreams and ghosts...”

“Usually when people see angels they're facing some major change in their life,” Father Michael said, holding out a hand. “It's a good thing when they appear.”

“You haven't met a lot of angels have you, Michael?” the man asked, arching one dark, pointed brow. “Why do you come to this bar? It's empty and drafty, and the only person here to talk to on a regular basis is Sal, and he's been here as long as the building has.”

“I'm not that old,” Sal called from where he stood, putting glasses in a rack above his head. “My dad was gray by the time he was my age.”

“It's definitely not your genes that keep you youthful,” the stranger said, propping his elbow on the back of his bar stool. “Why do you come here to stare at Sal's mug all of the time, Michael?”

“In another life, this was a special place for me. Before I was a priest I was a person, you know. Most of us were,” Father Michael said, hearing his self-mocking tone ringing in his own ears. “There was someone that I cared about a lot, but she went away, and I found another path.”

The stranger poured a generous portion of the whiskey left in his bottle into his glass. “Sometimes paths come full circle,” he said, staring into the amber liquid as the bell over the door chimed, and the sound of rain cascading from the overhang just outside covered the sound of an Eagles song playing on the stereo. “We're all just chasing ghosts.”

“Anabelle?” the priest said, rising swiftly to his feet, staring in shock at the woman before him. “How is this possible? I was just thinking about you!”

“It's good to see you, Michael,” Anabelle said, smiling sweetly. “I hope that you don't mind me stopping in here. It's pouring outside, and I was just in the area.”

“No, no! It's wonderful to see you,” Father Michael said, stepping forward to hug her gently. His heart raced as he drew back from her, his gaze settling on the vivid gray of her eyes. He led her over to the bar, taking a dry tea towel from Sal to hand to Anabelle. She toweled lightly at her dripping hair and her wet coat before sitting down on the bar stool to Father Michael's left.

“What'll you have, Ann?” Sal asked, putting a glass down in front of her, as if he already knew what her answer would be.

“Soda and lime?” Anabelle asked more than declared as Sal opened a bottle of cola, poured it in, and stuck the wedge of lime on the brim. “Your memory's as good as ever, Sal.”

“You know how it is,” Sal said, looking at her in a manner that Father Michael thought to be curious. “You were in the area, you said?”

“I had something to take care of in the borough, so I was around. I decided to take a walk, for nostalgia's sake, and then the clouds broke open,” Anabelle said, clicking her tongue against her teeth. “It was silly of me to go walking alone at night at all.”

“You should be careful. You're safe now, though,” Father Michael said before turning to the stranger. “This is Anabelle Tinas. Ann, this is—I never caught your name, mister...?”

“I'm called Luc,” the stranger said, finally introducing himself. “Anabelle knows that, though.”

“You've met?” Father Michael was starting to become a little uneasy. He hadn't seen Anabelle in years, and he'd never seen Luc in the bar at all, but somehow this man knew two people Father Michael had known for over a decade. “I must not get out often enough.”

“Anabelle works for me,” Luc said, flattening his lips as he kept his eyes on the bar top. “Sal, does, too.”

Father Michael laughed softly, looking from Luc to Anabelle, then to Sal. “Listen, I thought This Is Your Life went off-air years ago. Why am I getting the sense that you three know something that I don't know?”

“Do you remember that night in '52? I got you to walk me home because I wasn't feeling well?” Anabelle asked, gently folding the dampened tea towel in her hands.

“You had a fever, and you were tired. How can I forget? It was the last time that I ever saw you,” Father Michael said. “I didn't know what might have happened to you. No one in your building would say, and I didn't know where to look. I feared the worst for years. I thought you may well have...died.”

“I'm here, aren't I?” Anabelle said, reaching out to pat Father Michael on the hand. “No need to worry about me. I'm just collecting your debt.”

“What debt?” Father Michael asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I asked you, that night, what you would do for me,” Anabelle said, quietly. “I asked you if you would ever sell your soul for something. I asked you if there was anything so important that you would give up eternity in Heaven. You said that if there was such a thing as a price for a soul that you would pay it to live a peaceful life.”

“I was young and foolish, and trying to impress a pretty girl with fancy words,” Father Michael was beginning to realize that he'd stepped into a snare without even realizing it. “I was in love with you, Ann.”

“I asked if you were certain that you would sell your soul to live in peace and you said, 'Yes'. I wish that I could have been in love with you, but that's not how my kind works,” Anabelle said, her tone sad.

“Apologies for that,” Luc said, raising a hand, as if he was taking ownership. “You do seem like a very nice man, Michael, but now you have a choice. I don't have the power to see precisely when you're going to die, but I can tell you that it'll be soon. Being that you're a friend of Anabelle's and Sal's, and as I had nothing else going on at the moment besides sitting around daydreaming...I thought that I'd pay you a personal visit. Didn’t count on the damned rain, though.”

Father Michael moved away from his bar stool, a look of alarm on his face. “When I said that—all of those years ago—I meant that I wanted peace with you, Ann. Then you disappeared, and I had to go on. I couldn't imagine loving anyone else, so I took my vows and...”

“And you found peace,” Luc said, closing his eyes briefly as Sal lowered his head. “That's the way deals with demons work, I'm afraid. You'll get what you desire, but something always goes awry. That's Heaven On High trying to right the wrong, so the Path shifts. Anabelle has been a demon in my service for quite some time now, and you did make a deal.”

Father Michael backed away even further. “Luc...short for—”

“Yes, short for that,” Luc said sharply, standing up from his bar stool. “You can choose to perish at your allotted time, and then you'll burn in Hell Fire, or you can choose to become a demon in the service of Hell's army. I'd be honored to have you, Michael. Other than being robbed of your positive emotions, it's not really all that bad.”

“Not that bad? My whole life is countering your every move!” Father Michael said. “I'd give up Heaven!”

“Man, you've already missed that elevator,” Sal said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You've got two choices, Mike. Die and burn, or serve Hell. What's it gonna be?”

Father Michael felt his back bump into the wall, and he held Anabelle's gaze. “If I say yes, will I be able to be with you?”

“You'll barely care,” Luc said, rolling eyes that flashed with flames, and some other lonesome look that Father Michael couldn't put his finger on.

“‘Barely’ is enough,” Father Michael said, taking a step towards Anabelle. “The only questions I've ever asked myself were if you were still alive, and what would life have been like if I hadn't lost you somehow. What do I have to do?”

“That easy?” Luc asked, arching a brow. “You devoted yourself to On High, and you would turn against them because you've been in love with the same woman for years?”

“Think of your dream angel,” Father Michael said. “What would you do if you found her?”

Luc stood blinking at Father Michael for a moment, seeming to think on what he'd suggested before he waved a hand through the air. “She doesn't exist. She's just a mirage...So, you agree to becoming a soldier in Hell's army?”

“I agree,” Father Michael said. At that instant he felt like something inside himself imploded, even while he felt like he was on fire. Lightning flashed outside of the windows; bright, golden illumination that made the night seem like day time. He doubled over as wave after wave of nausea attacked, and he vomited up dark green bile, mixed with whiskey. The former priest hit his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath as pain rolled over his spine and his nerve-endings. He cried out, the air chilling his skin as the pain finally subsided. The lights from the bar were bright one moment, then dim the next, and Michael realized that Sal must have turned the lights off entirely. “Now...what happens?”

“I like you, Mike,” Luc said, tilting his head back. “I think that we're gonna get along nicely.”

“For some reason I'm not worried about what that means.” Michael turned his eyes to the floor before looking up to Anabelle. “I know what I said before, but now it all seems so pointless.”

“The ache will fade over time,” she said, stepping forward to put a hand to the side of Michael's face. “You'll serve our lord well.”

“Our lord...” Michael said, realizing that there was no way out. His fate had been sealed long ago, and now he stood in front of his new king, Lucifer, Light Bringer; the Devil.

***

“That's not scary at all,” Taylor said, flopping back to lean against the front of the love seat. “That's just one demon story in a bunch of other demon stories.”

“The grossest stuff in that story was the love parts. Blech,” Val said, bumping the side of his fist against Taylor's.

“One day you'll grow up to figure out that the love parts are the scariest parts, and the most tragic parts,” I said, shaking my head. “Anyway, that is a true story. Do you know who bought Sal's Pub?”

“You, Dad,” Cece chirped, her smile turning from bright to wicked. “And I know what happened to Michael.”

The other children turned to look at her expectantly, knowing their cousin's abilities to see things that they couldn't. “Well, where is Michael now?” Taylor asked, bobbing his head.

“He's right here,” a voice boomed as a lamp clicked on in the corner of the room to reveal Mike, smiling maniacally. Even infernal and vampire children are easy to startle at a young age, and they fled the room, the ground rumbling slightly at their involuntary flexing of power. “Every ten years I get to do that, and it's always fun.”

I stood up, looking down at Cece, shaking my head. “You set Uncle Mike up perfectly.”

“It's a tradition,” Cece said in her sweet, small voice as she climbed to her feet to shuffle after her fleeing cousins. “It had to be done. Hell Fire, they are such babies...”

“You're still a baby, so mind the language, Cecelia!” I called after her sighing deeply. “It's always somethin', huh, Mike?”

Mike hummed in agreeance, moving over to stand next to me. “It is. My kids are driving me up the wall. Hey, though...parent’s candy tax,” he said, looking down at the floor before looking back up to me.

“Happy Halloween, Father Michael,” I said with a grin.

Mike scoffed loudly, reaching down to pick up a bag of chocolates. “Save it for next year, man.”

#The Anthem Saga #Halloween #the Anthemverse #Spooky Stories

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roni-westbrook · 7 years

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She’s A Bad Mama Jama Part 4 (Steve Harrington x OC)

Here is the next part!! Hope whoever is reading these in the ether that is this website is enjoying them!

Part One Part Two Part Three

“Hey Auntie! Is Lucas there? I wanted to see if he wanted to go see a movie,” Val asked over the phone. The Terminator had just come out and she could tell that Lucas would love it by the trailers.

“He’s actually out right now. At the junkyard I think. You can go see if he wants to though,” her aunt replied, “And if you could also make sure that boy isn’t getting into any trouble, it would be a great help to me.”

“Haha, of course,” Val told her, smiling brightly at the wall. She could just imagine the trouble Lucas and his small group of friends would get into. Sitting around and playing Dungeons and Dragons was not very high on the danger list.

“I know Hawkins doesn’t compare to San Francisco but I’m glad you and your father are here,” her aunt said to her, her voice suddenly turning serious and vulnerable.

“Me too Auntie,” Val replied softly, her heart feeling awash with emotions.

0~0~0~0~0

“What the fuck are y’all doing,” Val asked as she walked into the junkyard to see Dustin, Lucas, Steve and a red-haired girl placing metal scraps on an old, broken down school bus.

“Valerie! The love of my life,” Dustin called, eliciting an eye roll from Lucas as the curly haired boy ran over to her, enveloping her in a warm hug. She made eye contact with Steve as the rest of the group walked over to her. She forced herself to keep her eyes on his, but couldn’t help her perusal of his form. She had to admit to herself that in the short time she had gotten to know him she had developed a small crush. She felt her heart began to beat hard as she looked him over. His jeans fit him perfectly and she could just imagine how his butt would look when he turned around. His hair was falling into his face and she just wanted to run his finger through it. She could tell that his hair would be thick and soft, and it was the perfect length to grip onto. Images from her imagination began to flood her mind of Steve kissing down her neck, slowly going lower and lower, her hand in his hair to put him right where she needed his mouth on her the most. She shook her head, banishing the thoughts from her head, now was definitely not the time. Steve smirked at her, his brown eyes piercing, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

“Dustin! My boo! How are you,” she asked the preteen that still held onto her, his arm around her waist. He was nearly as tall as she was and her heart became slightly saddened by the fact that her boys were growing up on her.

“I’m better now that you’re here,” he told her cheekily.

“You always know how to treat me right Dustin. That’s why you’re my favorite,” Val told him, sticking her tongue out at Lucas who had exclaimed in insult at her words.

“I thought I was your favorite,” Steve asked, his voice low and husky that it made her belly do a small flip. A small pout began to form on his lips that made her want to kiss him. She wanted to take a bite and make him groan in pleasure.

“What gave you that impression,” she asked instead, a single brow lifting with mock disinterest.

“Doll! You wound me,” Steve replied, a hand coming to his chest in playfulness.

“If you two are finished flirting,” Lucas said loudly, breaking the spell that had fallen over the two. Both teenagers looked at the three kids, blushes gracing both their cheeks and scoffing loudly at his words.

“Flirting? No one was flirting! And I most definitely would not flirt with him,” Val said defensively, her words stuttering lightly.

“Excuse me? I am a catch,” Steve told her, looking affronted at her words. Val had opened her mouth to reply when Lucas cut her off.

“It doesn’t matter,” he practically shouted, “Val, you need to go. It’s too dangerous for you here,” Lucas continued his voice soft and full of fear. Val could tell something major was happening and she immediately wanted to know what it was, because whatever it was didn’t seem to be good.

“Why do I need to go? What are you guys up to,” Val asked, suspicion entering her.

“It’s complicated. Just trust me, ok,” Lucas replied, a dejected look coming over his face.

“Hell no I’m not going. Who do you think I am leaving you shits here by yourselves,” Val said, her tone clearly brooking no argument.

“Val,” Lucas yelled, trying to convince her.

“Lucas,” Val said in the same tone before turning serious again, “What’s going on kid? You know you can tell me anything.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Lucas sighed out, clearly exasperated with her but she didn’t care, his and the others safety were way more important.

She crossed her arms, widening her stance, physically showing she wasn’t going anywhere, “Try me.”

0~0~0~0~0~0

“This is absolutely insane,” Val sighed out, exhaustion hitting her from all sides. She slowly sat down on the floor on the bus, her brain still trying to wrap around all of the information she was just given. A different dimension with creatures that can kill you, and at the heart of it was the sweetest boy she had ever met Will Byers.

“I told you wouldn’t believe me,” Lucas cried out, clearly frustrated by everything.

“Hold up now cuz, me not believing you didn’t once leave my mouth,” Val told him, standing up again once she got some oxygen back into her body.

“Wait,” Lucas paused, staring at her with wide eyes, “What? Why?”

“Because one, I’m pretty sure Steve would not being hanging out with you with his too cool for school vibe. Two, I know you. I’ve seen you when you’re genuinely scared and I saw that look today. You can’t fake that kind of fear,” Val said, wrapping her arms around herself, suddenly feeling cold. She didn’t fully know what her cousin had gotten himself into, but it was something to be feared. She didn’t know if she was strong enough to protect him, any of them. She sucked in a breath when she suddenly felt an arm wrap around her waist and looked over to see Steve’s chest. He held her tightly to his side and she felt grateful at feeling his solid presence beside her. He was her rock in this moment.

“Are you going to tell mom,” Lucas asked in a quiet voice, ignoring the way Steve held her.

“Hell no! Are you nuts? She would kill the both of us before those demi-dogs even got close to us,” Val exclaimed before scrubbing a hand down her face, “I’m gonna help your ass out I guess.”

“What? No,” Lucas began but Val placed a hand in front her effectively cutting his speech off.

“Not another word. I’m staying, that’s final. Besides, I couldn’t leave Max here to deal with you 3 on her own,” Val said, a small smile lifting her lips before reaching out and giving Lucas a long and warm hug. She felt him take a deep breath and relaxing in her embrace. She looked over at Steve and showed him the fear that was being held in her heart.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x poc #stranger things season 2 #i hope this came out ok #we're kicking up in the whole sexy dept though

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leaughrilke · 7 years

Note

Because I'm a greedy ass ho, can you do 7, 63, 47 for trimberly? Or you can just do one of them if three is too much. Thank you! ☺️

7. ‘This is so not the time or place for this.’

find it on:ao3

“Kim.”

“Mhm.”

“Kim.”

“Hm.”

“Kimberly,” Trini hisses, squirming away from her girlfriend’s traveling hands and lips. “This is so not the time or place for this.”

Trini has to fight back this high, keening noise she knows she’ll make when Kim sags against her, her thigh dropping away from between Trini’s legs and her hands pressed against the cool tile that Trini’s pressed up on. It’s a weird feeling, her skin so flushed, warm to the touch, and the bathroom wall tiling still cold enough to send a shiver through Trini.

She blinks, focuses back when Kim lifts her head, her dark, dark eyes boring into Trini.

Okay. Maybe the shivering isn’t from the cold tile.

“—got carried away,” Kim’s saying. “I came downstairs and saw you looking like—like this and I just wanted to say fuck it, let’s skip prom and just stay in my bed for hours.”

Trini remembers that, if not the beginning of Kim’s apology. Remembers that split second when Kim first saw her, how her eyes went wide, got darker. How her nostrils flared minutely, how her jaw clenched. How Trini preened a little under such obvious wanting.

The suit had been Zack’s idea. Trini’d worn a dress to homecoming and it had been beautiful and she’d liked it well enough—it was long and flowing and hot pink, which, at the time, had been excused by the fact that Trini’s mother had bought it. Sort of. Not that she’d ever tell anyone that she’d gone shopping with her mother and picked the dress herself, watched how the fuchsia chiffon had slipped over her shoulders, skimmed her hips and tried desperately not to picture anything else. Tried not to feel someone else’s hands smoothing over her stomach.

The dress had it’s intended result. Kim honest-to-god stumbled when she saw Trini, made this choking noise from the back of her throat, and Trini kept catching her stealing glances out of the corner of her eye at her, kept catching Kim swallowing hard.

They ended up ditching homecoming and all the moving bodies associated with it early, ended up moving together to their own rhythm in the back of Kim’s car, parked out in the back lot of the school, far away from prying eyes. Both dresses came out of it irreparably wrinkled, but it had been much more than worth it, Trini thinks.

That said—homecoming had nothing on prom.

Zack had suggested it after Trini spent an hour telling him how frustrated she was with her mother constantly harassing her about finding a dress. He did the research for it quietly before, picking up on Trini’s thoughts before she’d even really acknowledged them. A properly fitted suit would be pricey, but a thrift store find and Billy’s wonderful, wonderful mother’s attention to detail made it work.

Jason found her a thin, pink tie too, nearly the same color as her homecoming dress had been; Kim’s mother, Maddy, caught her fumbling with it while she waited for her girlfriend and had stepped in, tying it quickly and far better than Trini ever could have.

“Ted can’t do his own ties,” she’d murmured, eyes narrowed in concentration as she smoothed down Trini’s collar. “So I usually tie them for him.” Maddy looked up with a smile. “Kimmy’s pretty good at them too,” she added with a wink.

Which—yeah. Trini was sort of already blushing when Kim finally made her way downstairs. And that blush only deepened when she saw Kim in her color, got worse when she saw how Kim was looking at her. Which led to some close quarters dancing and maybe more than a little grinding when the lights were so low, Trini could only really be sure it was Kim by her well earned familiarity with her girlfriend’s body. And that led to making out in the hallway which led to making out in the bathroom at the far end of the school which led to here and now, with Trini truly wondering what the fuck she’s doing, her hips lifting off the wall of their own accord when Kim steps away, her body lifting off of Trini’s and leaving her cold and wanting.

“Sorry baby,” Kim sighs, tucking back some of Trini’s hair that’s escaped her carefully pinned updo. “I’m not great at keeping my hands to myself.”

Trini nods, dumbstruck. The lighting in the bathroom is shitty, but Kim is radiant, as always. Glowing from within. There’s a bit of a blush, high on her cheekbones and her lipstick is gone, wrecked, shot to high hell. Trini’s probably wearing half of it.

“I’m just as bad,” Trini smirks, reaching up to hook her finger over the edge of Kim’s bodice.

“No one knows we’re here,” Kim tells her after one long moment, looking up through dark, lush lashes. Her chest is heaving and Trini feels a little heady with the knowledge that she gets Kim just as worked up as Kim gets her. “I locked the door, too,” the other girl adds; she’s wearing this look that screams trouble and it sends a shot of something hot through Trini’s veins.

“Unlock it.”

“What?”

“Well,” Trini purrs, finally sort of getting her wits about her now that Kim’s not pressed up against her. “We could do quick and dirty here, where the guys might start looking for us or someone might catch us. Or we can head to our hotel now and take our time.”

Kim visibly gulps, her face flushing. Trini goes in for the kill. It’s not very often she gets the upper hand between them.

Leaning in, she nips at Kim’s ear and whispers, “You’d be surprised at how little I’m wearing under this.”

Her girlfriend goes dangerously still, seems to stop breathing for one long moment. “Trini,” she whines.

"Come on, princesa,” Trini hums, grinning when Kim shudders. “We wouldn’t want people getting suspicious.”

47. ‘You’re sick.’

find it on:ao3

“Kimberly Ann Hart,” Trini snaps. “Get back in that bed, right now.”

“Jeez,” Kim sniffles. “My full name? Really?”

Narrowing her eyes, Trini manhandles an unsurprisingly pliant Kim back into bed. “You’re sick,” she says, softening when her wife looks up with the most pitiful expression she thinks she’s ever seen on Kim’s face. “I’m trying to take care of you, but you’re making it kind of hard.”

“Mh.” Kim shakes her head weakly, sniffing again. “You’re the best, baby. But ‘m fine. See?”

She manages a weak smile, manages to drag one arm out of the blanket cocoon Trini’s forced upon her until her fever breaks. Trini thinks Kim’s trying for jazz hands, but honestly? It just kind of looks like her hand’s spasming.

“Okay,” Trini says with a smile. It started forced, but her wife is kind of adorable when she’s sick and needy, and so it quickly became a genuine one. “If you’re fine, I can go to work then?”

Of course Trini has absolutely zero intentions of doing that. But it still works, gets Kim’s attention back and garners a high whine and a sweaty hand reaching out for her.

“No!” Kim cries, tugging Trini towards their bed. “I’m sick and I need you to cuddle me.”

“No way, princesa. I’m not getting whatever this is too.”

“‘m not contagious. You’re too far away.”

It’s not even that strong of an argument, but Trini capitulates easily anyway. “You make a compelling point,” she sighs, already crawling onto the bed and curling around Kim. “But I’m totally holding it against you if I get sick.”

(“Kiiiiiim,” she wails from beneath a mountain of blankets, a week later. “Hold meeeeee.”

“Not happening, babe. I’m not perpetuating the cycle.”

“You owe me.”

“Scoot over.”)

63. ‘It’s not what it looks like.’

find it on:ao3

“Kim—.”

“It’s not what it looks like.”

Trini narrows her eyes, drops her bag by the door. “It looks like,” she says evenly, “you’re spoiling her dinner.”

Kim and Val look at each other, twin expressions of oh, shit, we’re totally caught. “Uh,” Kim stammers, tossing a kitchen towel over the carton of ice cream. “She wasn’t feeling well?”

Immediately, Val throws herself across her mother’s lap, groaning dramatically. “It’s the end for me, Mamí,” she cries, covering her eyes with her arm. “Napoleon was my last request.”

Trini bites back a snort. “Neapolitan,” she corrects gently. Which—big mistake.

Her wife and daughter sense the same moment of weakness, act in tandem with their matching wide eyed puppy dog looks and pouts. “It’s your favorite,” Kim sings, holding out her spoon.

For everything Val picked up from Kim, at the very least she got her great taste in ice cream flavors from Trini. So. There’s that.

“Ugh,” she grumbles, knowing she’s sunk. “Move over, nerds.”

Val pops up, grinning. “I’ll get another spoon,” she says, scrambling off the couch and taking off for the kitchen. Before she gets very far, though, she spins on her heel, barrels back towards Trini. “Welcome home!” her daughter yells on impact, throwing her arms around Trini’s waist in a hug that would have totally knocked her over if she weren’t, you know, a superhero.

She disappears into the kitchen, some banging noises following after a moment. “She’s fine, yeah?” Trini wonders aloud, dropping onto the couch and into her wife’s waiting arms. “Not about to fall and crack her head open?”

“Nah,” Kim sighs. “We had a very long conversation last night about climbing onto things that aren’t meant for climbing on.”

“What did she climb on yesterday morning?”

Kim laughs, surges forward to kiss her wife’s temple. “You’ll freak out if I told you.”

Yeah, because that helps. “Kimberly,” Trini warns.

“I’m glad you’re home,” Kim says instead of answering. “We missed you.”

Trini smiles softly and leans into Kim’s embrace, tucking her face into the crook of her neck. “I was gone for thirty six hours.” She pauses, hums contentedly when Kim huffs an indignant sigh and ruffles the baby hairs at Trini’s hairline. “I missed you guys too,” she adds.

She’s just about to get up and investigate what Val’s gotten up to that’s keeping her so quiet in the kitchen when, very close to their ears—“YOU GUYS ARE GROSS AND I FEEL LEFT OUT.”

Val launches herself over the back of the couch, divebombing between them and laughing maniacally. She wiggles her way into a sitting position between her mothers before throwing herself across Trini’s lap and grinning up at her. “I climbed onto the roof yesterday,” she brags, seven and wild and completely ignorant of the look of betrayal Kim shoots her.

“Of course you did, monster,” Trini grins. “I’d expect nothing less.”

#power rangers 2017 #trimberly #trini #kimberly hart #the first is the smuttiest not smut ive ever written i think #the rest are fluffy as fuck ur welcome #taikoturtle #human interaction

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davidmann95 · 7 years

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Since you've listed the preferences of the Superman actors, and also have done a FrankenBatman, can you do a similar worst to best list of the Batman actors in your opinion?

Skipping over Lewis Wilson and Robert Lowrey, as I haven’t seen the Batman film serials:

9. Dick Gautier

youtube

Adam West’s fill-in for a 1974 Equal Pay PSA, his impression is far from up to snuff, with not an iota of West’s hilariously sincere conviction.

8. Val Kilmer

I’m what might be called a Batman Forever apologist - as opposed to Batman and Robin, which requires no apologies - but Val Kilmer’s flat, passionless performance is certainly not one of the aspects I would leap to the defense of. I suppose he deserves some credit for being the last to wear an acceptable big-screen Batman costume for 21 years, but bleak as 1995-2016 was in that regard, no cowl is enough to cover up that he just wasn’t a very good Batman.

7. Bruce Thomas

The Onstar Batman may not have had a chance to make much of an impression in his 6 commercials - nor did he give any kind of impression that there was some kind of grand take on the character just waiting to show itself - but he did pretty well with what time he had, with some decent comic timing and a straight-faced attitude to fighting the Joker, Penguin, and Riddler that managed the tricky balancing act of showing a serious version of Batman who regardless still clearly enjoyed his job.

6. Michael Keaton

I’m not totally certain I ever fully bought Keaton as Batman - his greatest performance in superhero movies wouldn’t come until, of all things, his time as the Vulture in Spider-Man: Homecoming - but I still most certainly bought him as an unhinged trust fund millionaire who would beat the snot out of sword-wielding street punks and a sewer-dwelling Danny DeVito, and that goes a long way. Plus he casually backhanded that one guy so fantastically it’s been a cultural shorthand for how awesome Batman is ever since.

5. George Clooney

While he delivered maybe the 5th-best performance of the thoroughly amazing Batman and Robin, it was regardless a seriously underrated one. His Batman may not have quite found the line overall between serious and camp it seemed to be aiming for, but he still had a number of great individual moments under the cowl, he was a smooth as hell Bruce Wayne, and his work bouncing off Michael Gough’s Alfred and Chris O’Donnell as Robin was A+ all the way. If nothing else, his delivery of “She wants to kill you, Dick” was Oscar-worthy.

4. David Mazouz

From what fairly little I’ve seen, Gotham is an utterly bonkers and entertaining Batman show at its heart, but one utterly and irrevocably crippled by a delusional self-image of actually being about Jim Gordon and generic cop show bullshit, rather than baby Batman hanging out with baby Catwoman under the world’s crankiest babysitter in Alfred as supervillains ham it up at each other. Insomuch as there’s a soul to the thing though, it has to be Mazouz, who pulls off a solid performance of a Bruce Wayne who deep down is already very much Batman, but in spite of his willpower and conviction simply doesn’t yet have the skill, maturity or perspective as to how to apply himself yet, with all the frustration that brings as he figures it out a bit at a time. Seeing him confront his parents’ killer or hold strong in the face of Cameron Monaghan’s proto-Joker, it’s honestly difficult to believe he’s even operating in the same genre as most of his co-stars, much less the same actual program.

3. Ben Affleck

Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice has a boatload of sins to be held accountable for, but the casting of Affleck as the caped crusader to fill Bale’s considerable shoes was not one of them. His Bruce Wayne is simultaneously genuinely charming while having *just* enough of an air of sleaze that he’d be believably overlooked, while his Batman…well, feels like Batman in a way no one else has quite matched, with the kind of visceral, focused intensity and righteous hate you’d expect from a guy who’s spent almost of a quarter of a century trying to fist-fight crime into submission, with an entire unseen history of allies lost and ground wars against brilliant, sociopathic crimelord-artists, while still showing the kind of sympathy in his rescue of Martha Kent and encounter with Deadshot in Suicide Squad to make clear there’s a soul underneath. While he hasn’t gotten a proper opportunity to strut his stuff yet - even the most generous interpretations of this version up to this point hold that he was *intentionally* being written entirely out of his character in his debut - if Matt Reeves and Chris Terrio bring it for The Batman, I could absolutely see him topping this list down the line (especially if they don’t try and fix what’s broken with that suit, the first palatable modern take on his uniform that only makes him look all the more like he stepped off the page).

2. Christian Bale

If Christian Bale committed a single sin in his tenure as Batman, it was that when he screamed “SWEAR TO ME!!!!!!” in that one crooked cops’ face before dropping him 10 stories, stopping him right above the ground, and then having him fall on his face, he was fully conscious that it was the hypest shit of all time, and mistakenly believed his Batman voice should be at that level of intensity all the time rather than the lighter degree of raspiness he went with in Begins. The voice aside though - I think it largely worked given it was meant to scare the shit out of muggers, though I’ll admit it really did get to be a bit much in Rises - he was tremendously better as both Bruce Wayne and especially Batman than he was ever really given credit for at the time. It’s not entirely surprising; he was surrounded by bold, charismatic figures being pushed to their limits and capital-A Acting, while the very nature of what he was doing meant keeping it a bit more emotionally reserved. But his Bruce Wayne was almost immaculate in his grand douchebaggery, his sparring with Alfred gave us some of those characters’ best scenes in their almost 75 year relationship, and his Batman was haunting, enraged, and unstoppable. I suspect he could have been pushed a bit farther though; while I entirely disagree with the notion of Christopher Nolan’s films being cold and emotionless, I feel like a lot of the time he was played a note or two low in terms of intensity when taking it further could have made him stand out much more, and made clearer his actions under the cowl were as much an extension of his personal rage as an act to frighten the superstitious and cowardly. Regardless, he can absolutely hold his head high as the definitive modern interpretation of the character to the world at large.

1. Adam West

With every Batman up above, there’s always at least one ‘but’. They were great except; he’d be perfect if not; so on and so forth. That is not the case with Adam West. The superheroes’ superhero, he was the ultimate straight man to a world of camp madness, whether refusing to throw a bomb in a lake when it’d endanger a group of ducklings, making leaps of deduction that held more in common with dadaist poetry than criminal psychology with a 100% success rate, or somehow summoning up the willpower to not stop Batmaning to go run off into the sunset with Julie Newmar’s impossibly gorgeous Catwoman. The epitome of Batman as father-figure, dedicated keeper of public order, and crimefighting savant - as well as a damn smooth Bruce Wayne - he leapt off the pages of the New Look-era titles and defined a platonic ideal of decent-hearted superheroism that carries weight to this day. More than any to succeed him to date, he was a perfect, hilarious embodiment of his time’s vision of Batman, taking it to a level that can truly be said to have redefined the character to an extent no one else to wear the cape has come close to matching.

#Batman #Batman '66 #The Dark Knight #DCEU #Adam West #Christian Bale #Ben Affleck #David Mazouz #George Clooney #Michael Keaton #Bruce Thomas #Val Kilmer #Dick Gautier #Opinion

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sequeldespair-blog · 8 years

Text

Rolling the Credits

{Manabu sprites by Val, Iwao sprites by Citizen, Minnie sprites by Ray!}

Leaving the cinema was a blur. Maybe it was a combination of the shock and stress catching up to you that kept you from remembering the details. Bits and pieces- the medical staff, the code shouted over earpieces, bumping around in an armoured car while a JSDF psychologist talked at you and scribbled on a notepad- remain, but the little details tying it all together have been pushed to the back amid the chaos.

Of course, there was also the transportation to a hospital. That much comes back to you as you realize you're waking up in a bed in that same hospital. It's odd, awaking in a setting that's not the trailers. You don't really have much time to privately examine your new settings, though, as it's less than a minute before the lock on the door clicks and three new faces enter the room.

Well, relatively new, anyways. It takes you a minute to recall, but these three definitely were a part of the group of suited young adults- they’d said something about surviving a first game, right?- that greeted you yesterday. The last one to enter closes the door behind him.

"Oh, you're awake?” A blond haired man speaks up first, stepping to the front. “Good to see y'all are doin' better after all that nasty stuff that went down..." He rubs the back of his head with an apologetic smile before grinning bigger and beaming with optimism. "Well, 'm Iwao Wakahisai, me and my pals are here to help clear some shit up for ya best we can. I’m guessin’ y’all don’t wanna be left in the dark, especially now."

“They know our names, Wakahisai. The message we sent them, remember?” A woman with short, brown hair scoffs. Though her scowl does age her infinitely, her youthful freckles doting her cheeks betray her maturity.

“Though you know our tones, you don’t know our faces, probably. I’m Minnie LaFleur.” She sure seems to get to the point.

The taller of the three steps over behind them, hands moving in a small flurry at Iwao. He looks to everyone else resting and waves. He fishes out a small notebook and flips it towards you all. [Hiromura, Manabu, hope we can clear this all up some ;;] His hand adjusts the scarf around his neck.

Iwao nods at Manabu, making some hand motions back at him before turning back to face you. "Ya heard 'bout us from Matsumoto-san, like, yesterday, yeah? Dunno if she said why we're here though, lemme cover that to be on the safe side... So, the JS... uh, JSDF, yeah. The JSDF gathered all a' us to try and help y'all. They were like totally dumbstruck with the whole thing, like, mutual killing? What the hell is this shit, I ain't trained for that. So they called in us 'cause we survived, so they thought we'd have good advice and whatever- hope mine helped y'all out, a situation like this really sucks..."

“They just wanted us cause they thought we’d do whatever they wanted cause we both had a common goal,” Minnie scowled. “They thought because we survived that we’d have a way to make things better, to spread ‘hope’ to you kids. They even tried to make me give a speech to the masses. Guess what, being fake and saying everything is gonna be ok won’t fix anything, you gotta work hard. And as much as I hate to admit it, you kids did alright,”

Manabu lets out a sigh, signing back to Iwao and ends it with a shrug. He flips through a couple of pages with a frown and signs over to Iwao again with a frown on his face.

Iwao nods at Manabu, “Ya right- least, they’d probably try, if that lady hadn’t already leaked shit all game, right?” He realizes no one else probably knew what Manabu said, so his response sounded weird- he scratches the back of his head and adds context, “Cause, uh, like, the feds did a real good job of putting a wrap on what happened to us, callin’ it a terrorist attack ‘n stuff. They shipped us out to America to make sure we didn’t say nothin’, even. Though, that one lady, Kooichi, was leaking info in the middle of your ‘game’.” He makes sure to put air quotes around game. “Dunno if that’s a good or bad thing, but basically people know what happened. Speakin’ of her, do any of y’all happen to know what happened to her?”

You blink at the group, confused, before shaking your head and telling them that you don’t know anything about where Eriko went. You know that Yumeno is dead, but the camerawoman’s whereabouts are a mystery.

Minnie scoffed. “How would ya know, it’s all you’ve done to stay alive,” It was odd, though she wasn’t saying anything harmful, the way she said it dripped with malice. What was up with this lady? “Though nyan cat is dead, we don’t even have a clue where to find tac nayn. Thanks to her, everyone across the globe knows who you kids are, for better for worse. It probably won’t fix much, but I bet ya’ll’ll sleep better at night knowing she’s put down,”

Manabu raises an eyebrow at Minnie, motioning to Iwao for a moment before almost cutting himself off. He lets out a frustrated sigh, signing once more.

He glances over the group and signs, finishing his thought with by crossing his arms.

Iwao nods, signing back at Manabu. He looks back at you, “Well, regardless of what happens with Kooichi, that stuff she sent out is, like, out there anyway. So it’ll be best for y’all to stay here and not get hounded by people, yeah? It was mega weird for me to go back to a normal life after our stupid game thing, so I imagine it might be similar for some of ya. You can hang out here, chill, cool down, recoup, all that good stuff...”

You decide to speak up again. Your voice is still cracking- you’re tired, emotionally demolished, and some water would do you a world of good- but you can’t keep staying quiet. You ask them the biggest question you have: ‘What now? What happens next?’.

“You really think we have any fuckin’ clue? Quick answer, we don’t. You kids gotta figure this stuff out for yourselves. Don’t ask us the questions, ask yourselves. Are ya gonna go home, lay low, go back to Hope’s Peak? Well, whatever ya do, don’t attract any more attention to yourselves, we have enough of a hard time watching our asses to watch your’s anymore,”

And... Well, they’re right. Nobody seems to know what you’re supposed to do now. Even with all the new information, you don’t know what’s going to happen next or what your future is going to hold. Starting a new life in Hope’s Peak was supposed to be the start of a bright future, and now that it’s been interrupted by this tragedy, you’re going to have to find yourself a brand new path to follow.

As the banter among the three fades into background noise, you turn your head in the direction of the window. It’s so bright outside... You can see a whole city out there. There are more people visible on the sidewalks below than you’ve seen in ages. They must know of you now if the story you’re being presented with is true. Who’s going to recognize you from now on? What will become of your private life? Question after question burns into your mind.

But then the sunshine hits your window, and there’s a warmth on your face from the rays that quiets your thoughts. You are warm, comfortable, and safe- three feelings you thought you might never experience again. But despite all odds, here you are. Even after everything, you are alive.

That in itself is a victory worth celebrating.

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

CINEMA DESPAIR 2: STUDENT VICTORY HAS BEEN ACHIEVED!

CONGRATULATIONS!

#endgame

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