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justkending · 3 years ago

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Moral of the Story. Chapter Six.

Summary: Marrying too young out of highschool leads to a naive and failed marriage. Now 10 years later, word comes that the divorce was never actually completed. Bucky and Y/N have to come back together after all these years to settle what wasn’t all those years back. Passive attitudes, miscommunicated endings, and reminiscing of old loves and lives all comes back for the two.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N

Word Count: 3700+

A/N: Tags are closed for the rest of the series!! Please turn on your notifications if you want updates:) Also, this chapters a good one;)

Chapter Six:

That night, Y/N had plans with Wanda and Vis to go out and get a drink. However, when she called to double check, they asked if they could reschedule for another day. She told them that she was actually planning on staying a full week from Monday and that anytime that week would work for them.

So she spent the afternoon hanging out with Chloe who came home in the late morning. They went shopping in the art district and caught up over coffee before going thrifting and heading back home before dinner.

Once dinner was over, where Sherri, Thomas, Chloe, and Y/N hung out as a family, the parents went to bed early and Chloe went over to a friend's house to hang out again. Leaving Y/N by herself reading a book on the back porch.

After reading the same page for the 10th time, she let out a huff from not being able to still her mind from the events of the morning.

She looked over at the clock, seeing it was only 9:00. But in her head, it was six. She bit her thumb as she stared at the clock ticking away with each second. After about 14 tiks, she rolled her eyes before going upstairs and changing.

Maybe a night in town by herself would be nice. She noticed there was a bar Wanda and Vis had mentioned that was next to where they planned to eat and figured she deserved a drink after today.

So she put on a pair of nice jeans and a simple t-shirt with an old jean jacket that was twice her size from highschool. She fit into a little better now, but it was definitely still giant on her figure. Grabbing her dad’s car keys, she made her way to the mystery bar.

______________

Upon arriving at the bar, she realized it was a Saturday night, so it was busier than she had planned.

She found a seat at the bar and ordered a local beer before scanning out the place.

It was nice. Not really a dive bar, but an actual nice bar. There was still a pool table and a little game spot to the side, but there were booths full of people eating and talking, and even a DJ with a small dance floor on the other side.

It was a neat little place. Nothing special, but they seemed to know how to make a good drink given the reviews on the menu they proudly displayed from past customers.

Y/N was going over the menu having finished her last drink pretty fast, but before she could even read the second option on the menu, a familiar voice sounded behind her.

“Well, looky here. If it isn’t Mrs. Barnes herself.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows turning at the comment and instantly, her eyes widened.

“James?”

“Hey, sweetheart. What are you doing here?” he sauntered to the empty barstool by her. She noticed a weird sway in his walk that helped her put two and two together that something was off with him.

“I’m getting a drink,” she answered confused, lifting the beer bottle in her hand.

“I thought you didn’t drink,” he slurred. “And a beer, hmm? I figured that if you ever did start drinking, it would be the fruity stuff,” he chuckled, leaning his head in his hand that was propped on the counter.

She paid no mind to his thoughts and shot him a glare. “Are you drunk, James?”

He pouted his lips and shrugged with an ‘I don’t know, am I?’ look on his face. It quickly dropped and turned into a smirk as he readjusted in the seat.

“You know, I hate that you call me James now,” he huffed, swiveling in his seat to face forward at the bar.

“It is your name,” Y/N shook her head with a sigh. Lord this was going to be interesting. She looked around trying to find Steve or Sam even. “Are you here by yourself?”

“It’s only my name to people who don’t know me. My friends call me Bucky and you’re my friend,” he pouted again, but wasn’t looking at her. Only swirling the amber liquid in the glass tumbler she realized he had in hand now.

“Friend’s a stretch,” she mumbled, taking a long swig of the new drink. He didn’t hear her though. She looked around a little harder and couldn’t find any sign of someone they knew. “Really. Are you here alone?”

“Yes, and so are you,” he noted, finally turning to her.

“Yes, but I’m not plastered.”

“Give it some time and you could be,” he winked.

She shook her head watching as he almost slipped from his chair.

“Ja-”

“Please don’t call me that, doll. I don’t have it in me to hear you make me feel like a stranger,” he mumbled flagging down the bartender. “Can I get another one please?” He asked, raising his now empty glass. The bartender looked at him with a judging eye, and Y/N jumped in before he could possibly say yes.

“A water. He’ll have water instead,” she smiled softly. “Please and thank you.”

“Got it,” the bartender nodded before going to get him a glass.

“That’s not what I asked for,” Bucky groaned.

“We don’t always get our way, do we?” Y/N sighed, taking a long pull from her own drink. When she finally pulled away, almost emptying the glass, she noticed Bucky staring at her. “What? What are you looking at?” she said, slightly off put by the longing look he was giving her without even trying to hide it.

He broke when he noticed her giving him a weirded outlook and stood up.

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

Without a second for her to react, he stood up quickly and walked to the back where the restroom signs hung above.

The bartender came back a minute later and slid the glass of water across the counter in replacement to the empty tumbler that he took back.

“You know that guy? Is he bugging you?” he asked, looking at Y/N who was now holding her head in her hands.

“I do. He’s an old family friend,” she answered looking down. “Can I get another?” she asked, shaking the now empty beer bottle to the man with a small pleading smile.

“I can get you something stronger you know? I feel like you may need it,” he said, and she noticed his tone had changed from just a server to something a little more flirty. His smirk giving away his intentions.

I mean, he wasn’t a bad looking guy. He was a young, probably early 30 year old guy, who for sure made time in his schedule to go to the gym. He had a clean shave, showing his sharp features too.

“Is it that obvious?” she chuckled, sending him back a small smirk of her own.

“You look a little strung out,” he chuckled, going to get another drink made up without her having to say yes.

“Saying it's been an eventful day, would be putting it lightly,” she sighed loudly.

The guys nodded his head in understanding and smiled as he shook up a new concoction. He poured in impressively into a glass and placed a cherry and lime on top before handing it off to her.

“On the house for that one then,” he winked. She smiled, adding a hint of flirtatious eye contact to the man, might as well. She was single… Kinda. “Hey, we make a mean batch of shredded chicken nachos too if you're hungry. I might be able to get you a discount.”

“Oh, I’m actually-,” she started, but was quickly interrupted.

“She’s vegetarian,” Bucky practically growled at the man behind the bar as he took his seat back.

“Oh,” the guy said, taken aback.

“He’s right, but thank you for the offer,” she smiled politely before sending Bucky a glare. Unfortunately he didn’t see it as he was sending a glare of his own to the man on the other side of the counter.

Knowing Bucky would make matters worse, she decided to move on from the bartender for the moment.

“I’m so sorry about him,” she scoffed, placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder to bring his attention back to her and deter his evil stare from the innocent person. “I think I’m going to get him home actually.”

“I’m not going home yet,” Bucky spoke up, being ignored by the two anyway.

“Probably a good idea,” the mystery bartender man nodded before looking back at Y/N with that flirty grin again. “Listen, I don’t know if you’re here very often, but I’ll be on shift tomorrow the same time if you wanted to drop by. Maybe I can get you some of our famous fries instead,” he winked, leaning more her direction.

“That actually sounds nice,” she began.

“Well, I hate to break it to you sir, but she’s married,” Bucky said with a deep voice almost perfectly sober now.

Y/N shot him wide eyes and saw that any form of drunkenness was hidden in that moment. He had become a big alpha male right there and was showing he was not one to mess with. Was he seriously jealous? Of a man offering her a drink and fries?

“James!” Y/N smacked his arm.

“What? Am I wrong?” he responded, a hint of anger in his response to her as his eyes showed pain when he made eye contact with her finally.

“Yes! Very!” Y/N responded.

“On the contrary, I’m not,” he said, taking a step closer.

The two were now chest to chest as he looked down at her and she looked up at him. The tension high and their eyes staring into the others soul. Anger and hurt in both their stances and stares.

“I need to go help another customer,” the bartender spoke up awkwardly.

Y/N broke from the stare down and sent him an apologetic look. Bucky was still looking at her as if his eyes were magnetically attached to her face.

“I’m so sorry,” she paused looking for a name tag and seeing Bradley inscripted on a metal plate pinned to his shirt. “Bradley. I don’t know why,” she hissed looking at Bucky for a second who rolled his eyes at her before she turned back. “He’s acting this way.”

“It’s fine. You guys have a good night,” he waved off with a kind smile before sending Bucky a weary look and going back to his job.

Y/N took a deep breath before turning to Bucky who was still inches from her and looking down at her. His face was stoic and grumpy.

“How did you get here?” He didn’t answer her harsh tone. “James, how did you get here?” she said, this time leaving no room for silence as she gave him a death glare.

“I drove,” he answered deeply.

“Give me your keys,” she laid her hand out in front of him.

“No.”

“Stop acting like a literal child and give me your keys.” The stubbornness between the two only grew as the other refused to break. “Fine, don’t give me your keys. I’m driving you home either way.”

“I’m not ready to go home,” he slurred some. His facade of trying to cover his drunkenness was fading as he eased up on trying to intimidate someone now.

“Well, I say you are. Come on,” she rolled her eyes, taking his hand and dragging him to the door.

“Hey!” he fought back, but she was walking too fast that his alcohol soaked brain was only focused on not tripping and couldn’t work on stopping himself.

“God, you are a mess. Can’t do anything without fucking supervision,” she mumbled once they were outside.

“You have a mouth on you,” he said as he crossed his arms and waited for her to fish out the keys.

“Yeah, well, some of us have changed since college,” she retorted.

“I’ve changed,” he said softly.

“You sure as hell aren’t acting like it,” she said through her teeth, frustrated in not finding the keys fast enough.

“Do you only remember our bad moments? Is that all you allow yourself to think of?” he shot back, but she ignored him and opened his door before moving to the driver side.

The car ride to Bucky’s shared apartment with Steve was filled with tension. Bucky sitting like a scolded child on the side while Y/N was the parent furious with him for causing a scene in a public place.

“That Bradley guy flirts with every girl that walks in there,” he mumbled about 5 minutes into the drive. He didn’t get a response. When he looked over to see if she had reacted at all, all he saw was a bitch face on her that was focused on the road ahead. “He’s kinda a dick from what I’ve heard the girls say about him that go in and out.”

“Are you there that often that you know the waitstaff's dating profiles?” she sassed.

“No, I’m just saying from what I know, he doesn’t deserve you.” He had said the last part so softly, that if the car wasn’t as awkwardly quiet as it was, Y/N wouldn’t have been able to make it out.

She turned to look at him finally and saw him with his head propped against the glass of the window. He was avoiding eye contact and had opted to watching the city lights pass by for the rest of the car ride.

Y/N wasn’t sure how to respond or if she even should. What was the point anyway? He wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning and she wasn’t supposed to care… At least that’s what she told herself.

She was able to get to the apartment after Wanda sent his and Steve’s address thankfully.

“Ok, we’re here,” Y/N parked in the front of the apartment.

It was one of those buildings that looked like a house in a neighborhood where all of them were side by side going up 3 floors. But in their case, each floor was a different flat/apartment. It was updated and in the nicer part of town, so clearly he and Steve were well off.

From what Wanda had said, Bucky was on the top floor and Steve was renting out the middle floor within the next month. So he had been crashing at Bucky’s until the lease for the current tenant was up and the space was open.

“Thanks,” Bucky groaned. He had sobered up some from the drive, but considering how far gone he was earlier, he couldn’t be that much better.

He opened the door and sloppily got out of the car almost tripping on the curb and stumbling to the steps.

Y/N groaned leaning forward and hitting her head on the steering wheel by her hands.

“Don’t do it Y/N. Don’t do it,” she repeated, but when she looked back up, he was sitting on the middle of the steps with one hand rubbing his temple. “And you’re going to do it…”

She got out of the car and came to the front of him. Her anger had dissipated some and now she felt pity for the poor guy.

“You good?” she asked, and he looked up with her in surprise.

“I got a little dizzy,” he answered before going back massaging his head.

“Need some help?” she sighed, offering her hand.

He slowly raised his eyes to look at the gesture before looking at her.

“Why are you being nice? I’ve only been a drunken dick to you tonight,” he groaned, taking her hand anyway. “I’m surprised you didn’t dump me off and speed away.”

“Yeah, well. We’ve all been dicks at some point. Doesn’t mean we don’t deserve a helping hand here and there,” she nodded as they walked up the steps. “What button do I push?”

“Last one on the right,” Bucky said, putting his head back down as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned on the door for support from the world spinning around him.

She did as told, and the button let out a blunt ring as it called the floor above.

“Hello?” a voice replied.

“Steve? It’s Y/N,” she answered.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Steve asked in shock.

“I’m delivering you your drunk best friend. Mind ringing me up?” she answered in a tired tone.

“Uh, yeah, yeah! One sec.” The bell sounded, giving the two access to the unlocked door now.

Bucky rolled away from it as Y/N opened it for them both and they started their way to the nice elevator off to the side by the stairs.

Once the doors shut, Bucky looked over to Y/n who had been avoiding eye contact the entire time. He finally took in her presence and noticed she was wearing one of her favorite jean jackets from highschool. One that he had actually gifted to her. He chuckled a little at it as it still hung loosely on her even after all these years.

“What are you laughing at?” she asked.

And when he met her eyes, he didn’t see the harsh bite back that he had received most of the evening. Instead, there was a small sense of amusement in her question.

“Nothing, just the jacket,” he pointed.

She looked down as if she forgot what she was wearing and then it registered.

“Right, you gave me this for one of our anniversaries,” she chuckled some. He hadn’t heard a genuine laugh from her this entire day. Sure it was the smallest and diluted chuckle ever, but It sounded nice.

“Still have the patch?” he asked.

She pulled it away from her body some and looked in the breast pocket, nodding.

When he had got it, it was nothing special but an older, worn out, and thrifted jean jacket. But to make it special, he found a little iron on patch of the world to put inside the pocket. He had told her that she always had the world in her pocket with the light that she was for it. She would and could do just about anything to make a room and this entire planet light up just by smiling.

Bucky couldn’t help the goofy smile that came across his face knowing she didn’t rip it out in spite at some point in all these years. That jacket had a little more meaning to them then just being a shield from the brisk air.

Once the elevator reached the floor, Y/N motioned Bucky out.

“I don’t know where to go from here, so I hope you’re sober enough to point me the right direction,” she smirked playfully.

Bucky returned it, not wanting to chance taking away the civil actions happening in the moment.

“Right,” he agreed, coming out and making his way down the new hall. “Steve,” he shouted loudly. Lucky for them, they had the whole floor to themselves.

Steve’s head poked out of the door less than a second later.

“Hey,” he said with a confused face that was attempting to be covered by a kind smile.

“I’m going to go inside before I made more of a fool of myself,” Bucky mumbled, pushing past Steve who moved to the outside of the hall. “Thanks for bringing me back, Y/N,” he said with a tight embarrassed smile. “Sorry for being a dick again.”

Not that Y/N would have said anything back, but even if she had, he stalked away with his head low and disappeared into the apartment before she would have a chance.

“Do I want to know?” Steve sighed.

“Uh, even I’m not too sure what went on tonight,” Y/N responded, putting her hand in the jacket pockets and rocking on her feet.

“Do I need to apologize for his actions?” Steve chuckled, looking down at her bashfully.

“He’s a big boy Stevie, he can take responsibilities for his actions,” Y/N chuckled back.

“Right. You would think he would act like the grown man that he is, but it looks as though we were both thrown for a loop tonight.”

“Guess so.”

“Hey, Wanda told me you’re here for the week now. Your travel plans changed. Are the rumors true?” Steve asked, moving the subject away from the awkward one.

“Uh, yeah. I was going to text you tomorrow morning, but looks like I was beat to the punch.”

“Well, we’ll all have to hang out soon then. It’s been too long,” he winked. The two gave each other a quick hug, but Steve didn’t let go and looked down at her. “How are you doing? Clearly the other part of this equation isn’t doing too hot,” he noted, looking in the open apartment door before back at her.

“Seems we are handling the second part of this divorce a little different than the other, but I can’t say it’s been fun,” she responded, following his eyeline. “Uh, listen. I hate to see you for like two seconds after all this time and split, but I’m kinda beat from the day.”

Steve pulled away and patted her back nodding.

“No, no. I completely understand. I know from experience, drunk Bucky isn't an easy one to take care of. Plus... Everything else on top of that.”

“Yeah...”

“You go ahead and head home. I’ll call you later to set up a time for the team to meet and catch up. Sound good?”

“Sounds like a plan, Cap,” she winked.

He rolled his eyes with a smile before waving her off. “Want me to walk you down?”

“Nah, I parked right out front. I should be fine,” she shook her head as she headed back for the elevators. “Um, his car is still at the bar by the way. You may need to go pick it up tomorrow. I didn’t want him driving home, given his state.”

“Thank you for that. I’m sorry again,” Steve grimaced.

“Don’t apologize, just uh… Just get him some advil and lots of water. I’ll see you later.”

“Will do. Bye, Everest!” he bantered back with her own nickname.

“God, haven’t heard that one in years,” she laughed before the elevator doors shut.

With a heavy sigh and lots of thoughts on her mind, the car ride home felt like it never happened.

Tags are closed for this series. Please turn on notifications if you would like updates:)

Moral of the Story Taglist:

@taylormobley @ximaginx @vicmc624 @leyannrae @lonerlovescompany @jessyballet @angstysebfan @tita127 @semistablecentenarian @im-a-light-child @alyssahowden @studiesinspanish @natyvwe @rebekahdawkins @fanfictionjunkie1112 @millennial-teenybopper @scotlandasshole @aquariusbarnes @shinykoalacat @wayward-river @buckyswillows @natdrunk @caxtainamerica @iloveangstposts @fanngirl19

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @heyiamthatbitch @lizzymacy555 @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses @pham-tastical @livstilinski

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @carls1022 @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins @alyispunk @princess-annna

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker @charmedbysarge @jbarness @bellamy-barnes @katiaw2 @aikeia @stopjustlovethemcu

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x highschool sweetheart #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au series #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series #marvel fanfic #justkending #marvel au #marvel au series #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader insert #moral of the story

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help-im-a-gay-fish · 4 years ago

Text

The Night of the First Mistake

Sequel to

Synopsis: pre X-orcist, almost a year after Nightmare's death, Dream is still not on top of his grief and causes him to resort to desperate measures.

Tw mentions of death/dead loved ones.

X-orcist au belongs to me and @zu-is-here

Dreams, Demons and Desires is by me.

Enjoy

Almost a year had past since he'd last seen Nightmare. The skeleton couldn't say he had mourned him, but the news of his death had been unfortunate to say the least. Who could have seen someone like Nightmare dying in such a preventable way? Not him, that's for sure.

He was a friend... Or at least a friendly acquaintance, clearly he'd not been quite close enough to Night's inner circle to be invited to the funeral. He'd never even met Night's brother. Despite that, the news of his parting had deeply saddened him and every so often, he thought of him with a sigh.

A good customer and a good person.

This evening, Nightmare played at his thoughts again, probably drudged up by the anniversary of the accident approaching, he hadn’t meant to make note of the day, but he had. a few weeks would be the anniversary of the day he heard the news.

He thought back to a year ago, a few weeks before his death. The words he’d said about his brother and the increasing frustration about his sinful thoughts. Killer didn't judge him for such feelings, he was no stranger to sin.

Other then that, there was nothing at all strange about this night.

Tonight, just like any night, he was in his shop and the counter. It was a cold October and pretty soon he'd be closing up.

It was dark and chilly in his shop and had a strangely pungent smell, which hit the moment you walked in. A mix of crushed herbs and spices, old books and stale coffee.

An old set of scales sat on the counter top in front of him, as did a till, several glass jars and containers and a large collection of dirty coffee mugs.

Behind him there was a large book case full of many strange books. Ones with faded titles, ones with thick leather bindings, some with large strains spreading across the covers or pieces missing. If you asked him, he'd liked to have said that he'd read all of them... But there were a few he hadn't. He wasn't much of a reader outside of this collection.

As he nursed yet another cup of coffee from the café next door, he tapped his slender skeleton fingers on the counter top. He was bored.

With a glance at the clock, he decided today that he could close up early. It was his shop after all, he made the rules. A small collection of trinkets and charms hung around his neck and clinked together against his old coat, as he got to his feet.

Just as he prepared to take today's earnings from the till to count it, he heard the door and a jingle of the shop bell, indicating someone had entered.

He set an empty eye socket in their direction as they froze, looking nervous.

The person was new, but also something about them was strangely familiar. After scanning them for a moment, his face twisted into a sly smile upon realising who the new comer could be. He turned his face to them fully, staring his pitch eyes right through them. They tensed, which amused him slightly.

"well hello Little Light.... How may I help you"

Dream seemed taken back slightly by the pet name. It wasn't something he was used to. His hands fused with the fastening on his coat.

"uhh Hello.....I’m..... Uh.."

The shop keep chuckled again. Such nervous behaviour wasn't something he saw often from his customers. Looks like it was going to be an interesting night and to think, he was going to close up.

"nervous Lil light?"

Dream once again tensed and shuddered slightly.

"Please.... Don't call me that" he stammered slightly before taking a breath "My name is Dream"

The shop keepers grin got even wider and it made a chill run up Dream's spine. There was something extremely unnerving about this skeleton. Maybe it was the emptiness of his eyes or the strange carvings around them, but Dream was sure that it was more then that.

The atmosphere of the shop was very unsettling and kind of cramped in Dream’s opinion. There were many trinkets, stones, crystals and small animal bones stacked neatly on the shelves. It was this, along with bags of salt and bundles of sage and garlic, that reassured him he was in the right place for what he needed.

"Dream huh?.... Thought so" he said in a low tone "I'm so glad to finally meet you"

The nervous shifting of his hands continued, as Dream once again tensed even further. He was acting friendly, but it still felt ever so slightly...off.

"h-how do you know me?"

"I knew your brother and I'd recognise that pendant I sold him anywhere" he said, with his eyes looking at Dream's chest.

Dreams fingers quickly shot to the star charm hanging from his neck, and gripped it tight. Looks like this was the right place.

"Not to mention there's your golden eyes" he continued, shifting his gaze straight into Dream's eye sockets. It was strange how Dream knew where he was looking, even without eye lights.

"he often talked about them......He was right when he said they were very beautiful if I do say so myself~"

Dreams face blushed slightly, but he felt a familiar twist in this chest at the mention of Nightmare and a sinking feeling when he was reminded how Night felt about him. His brother had often complimented his eyes.....

He'd just never really understood it was more then brotherly affection. At least until now.

"I.... Uh" Dream said before clearing his throat "You're Killer.... Aren't you?"

Flexing his fingers, Killer nodded. The grin didn't leave his face.

"looks like my reputation proceeds me"

Dream let go of his necklace and a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "I thought it might be you.... Based off something he wrote in his diary".

Before Night's accident, Dream had never even considered reading his diary. That was just a basic code of conduct. However, after his death, it became something Dream had often thought about. The diary, and everything else Nightmare owned, now belonged to him. For that reason he'd taken the book out of Nightmare's room.

However, he'd just kept it on his bedside table for almost a year before he finally had the courage to read it.

It had mostly been a fond look over some old memories, some good and some bad. But there were also passages about his feelings for Dream, sometimes written confessions addressed him. Every word was full of truth, longing and pain. Dream had felt it all.

Those had been hard to read, but he'd not skipped a single page and read them each through several times.

Nearer the end of the book, Nightmare had started talking about his interest in the supernatural. Dream remembered his twin getting fascinated in that and spending long evenings talking with him about it over tea and biscuits.

One thing Dream hadn't known about, where his trips to the next town over, where he wrote about finding this shop and the shop keep. This had been where the interest started. It was this that had lead Dream to come here.

"right..." Killer said, downing what was left in his coffee mug and setting in on the counter top.

"well.... What can I help you with?"

Yeah.. Nightmare had written that Killer was always one to cut to the point. Dream knew that what he was going to ask sounded insane and he wasn't even fully sure if Killer was the right person to ask. But at this point he was desperate, he just needed to know. With his grip returning to his brothers pendent, he remembered who he was doing this for.

He took a deep breath.

"Can you bring people back from the dead?"

Killer didn't react visibly to that. But he drew out a long silence. After a little Dream was sure he saw his jaw clench. The silence was completely deafening, broken only by the sound of Killer's fingers tapping the counter top. Dream figured that he was probably struggling to think what to say. After what felt like a life time, he spoke.

"I specialise in charms and equipment for preventative measures to stop spirits inhabiting homes....I do not....." he paused

"I don't try and bring the dead to the living realms".

Dreams face fell. He really shouldn't have been so disappointed, it was a crazy ask. But with the way Killer spoke and what he sold in the shop, he'd felt so close to what he wanted. But maybe it really was just impossible.

He felt tears threatening to spill, he just couldn't take all this guilt anymore. All he wanted to do was tell his brother he was sorry. That night. That kiss. That dam horribly wonderful kiss...and that car.

"however...." Killer continued.

Dream felt hope flush through at those words and stood up slightly straighter. Killer turned his back to dream and started looking over the bookshelves behind the counter.

He didn't say a word, as Dream curiously watched him. He ran his thumb across the spines of several of the oldest and most dusty looking of them, eventually plucking out a large leather bound book with silver straps.

He walked back over, blowing dust off it as he did, and set it down on the counter with a light thud. The cover was extremely dusty and the leather was cracked and split in several places, yet the title still read fairly clearly and Dreams felt his heart skipped a beat.

The Practice of a Necromancer. Vol one of three. Summoning, Controlling and Banishing.

"I've not read this one fully, but it's been in my collection for years.... I suppose this would be the right place to look"

With that, he slowly opened the book and very carefully started to turn its pages. The paper was completely yellowed and clearly very fragile. There were no photographs, only hand done drawings of various items and also what looked like people, but with strange and uncanny faces. There were also other frightening images that Dream was trying not to look at.

Killer eventually stopped and ran his finger across a page.

"ah ha" he said "to summon a spirit into the living world"

He read over the text for a moment, as Dream watched impatiently. Killer knitted his non-existent eyebrows and narrowed his eyes.

"this stuff sounds overly complicated to me..... so I guess I'm not sure really"

But Dream didn't really seem to be playing much attention to Killer's words now. He was so desperately trying to read the text upside-down. Reading was something that Dream always struggled with anyway, so reading upside down would be near impossible. He reached forward to try and pull the book to him.

But he jumped back in surprise as Killer slapped his hand across the book, sending some dust into the air.

"now now now not so hasty Lil Light" he said returning back to a sweet tone, as he said the a pet name that made Dream's toes curl.

In his haste Dream had forgotten that this was a shop, not a library, so of course he wouldn't just hand it over.

The smaller skeleton knew that the book was probably pricey so it's not like Killer would just let him have it. It was clearly very old and Dream worried that he wouldn't have enough for it, but if he had to pay all the money he had to buy it. He would.

Reaching inside of his pocket, Dream pulled out a bundle of paper money and placed it on the counter and next to the book. Killer looked at it for a moment, before he took it and counted how much money was in the bundle. He ran his fingers across the notes, looking as if he was very tempted and contemplating his next move.

But then, much to Dream's disappointment, he put it back down on the counter.

"I don't want your money dream... That's not what I meant"

An unhappy wine left Dream's mouth, as Killer proceeded to hand his money back to him. Just as he was about to ask why, Killer cut him off.

"it's not for sale"

"but what if I just borro-

"or for rent or loan"

Dreams soul twisted. This felt so Incredibly unfair. He wasn't ever one to really get angry or feel hatred for people. But why had Killer gotten this book down if he didn't intend to sell it? Was he just trying to mess with him?

It was that moment that he wasn't sure he really liked Killer all that much.

He sighed.

"h-how come? Can I do anything to change your mind?"

Killer sadly shook his head.

"Dream....... I like to read the stuff for research purposes not for a practical use"

Dream opened his mouth to object, but killer silenced him.

"and I don't care what you say... but I don't think you're just interested in the topic"

Dream tried very hard not to show disappointment on his face, but of course Killer picked up on it. It upset him that his intentions were so easy to guess. Then again he'd opened with 'can you bring people back from the dead'.

He really should have asked in a different way. Feeling like an idiot, he tried to say that he wasn't intending to use the book in practice. But Killer once again shook his head.

He stood up slightly and gave Dream a sympathetic look, or a sympathetic as he could make it through his cold eyes.

"look....I know you miss him and that's ok I've lost people myself to" he said in a uncharacteristically gentle tone, which sounded fake.

Dream looked at his feet.

"but the dead need to be left dead. Trying to bring them back never ends well, Nightmare wouldn't want you to get hurt trying to help him"

Dreams eyes stayed fixed on the floor, not wanting to look at killer any longer. He didn't want him to see him cry. He didn't want to look like a baby. Just as he was going to try arguing again, behind him he heard the shop door open and the bell ring

He looked back at Killer seeing he'd straightened up.

"K-killer...." came a soft but slightly panicked voice.

Curiously, Dream looked over his shoulder at the source of the voice. It was another skeleton stood by the door.

In all his life, Dream had never seen someone look to tired. They seem to be slightly younger then Dreams age but it was hard to tell how much. Their appearance was clearly young, but the huge bags under their eyes aged their face several years. The most notable thing about them was that their eye lights where small, indicating that they were on edge.

They were wearing a oversized cream knitted sweater and had a maroon scarf decorated with a paw print pattern tide around their neck. They fiddled with it as their eyes a looked at Killer and then to Dream.

From where he was, Dream could also see them wearing several of the necklaces and charms that Killer a sold, as well as a few layers of bandages around their arms.

Killer hastily exited from behind the counter and approached them.

"Hey Cappuccino......." he said, trying again to sound soft.

Ccino wasted no time in burying his head to Killers chest and wrapping his arms around him.

In response, Killer stumbled slightly and looked momentarily taken back and very uncomfortable. After a moment he sigh, before gently placing an hand on his back.

"hey.....it's ok ya wimp... I'm guessing they're back right?"

Ccino simply nodded, Killer sighed.

"Dream can you show yourself out? I've got to take care of this, we're closing anyway. I'm sorry I couldn't help you better"

As Killer attempted to comfort the shaking skeleton, Dream turned his attention back to the book in front of him. It was just within his reach, the page was tantalising.

It was so clear, a set instructions of the exact thing he'd need to do to reach his goal.

Killer's warning played in his mind.

But he knew what he was doing right? It was his brother, what did Killer really know about what Nightmare would have wanted. He didn't know how.... Close... They were. At least he thought he knew.

It was a split second choice.

As Killer continued to try and comfort his companion, he saw Dream hastily exit the shop without saying another word. He stared at the door.

It didn't feel right.

He narrowed his eyes and stepped back from Ccino slightly.

"hang on"

He walked back to the counter and was relieved to see that the book was still there, however a moment later he noticed something else that make him freeze and curse under his breath.

"what's wrong?" Ccino asked, walking up next to him.

Killer didn't answer and instead picked up his book and looked at it closely to confirm what he saw. When he saw he was right, he near growled.

"Killer?" Ccino asked not seeing the problem.

"look....."Killer said quietly.

He ran his finger down the spine where the pages joined together. Once you looked closely you could see the remnants of torn paper sticking out.

"he took the page"

references coming soon.

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normandyandback2022 · 2 years ago

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June 19 PM June 21 Afternoon

June 19 afternoon

We went directly to Germany on the Autobahn and decided to drive to Freiburg to look around. We missed the turn to the city center and tried to find our way back, but the road was under construction and the GPS could not reroute us.We spent 20 minutes wandering around knowing which direction to go but being stymied by one-way streets and pedestrian areas. We finally found the city center and parked to walk around.It is a very interesting old city but much more crowded and I remember 1982. We heard someone speaking English and started a conversation with Jack and Gloria from Pennsylvania. Their son lives in Heidelberg with his wife and daughter. We kept finding things that were common to us in about 30-minutes chatting in front of the facade of an old department store, to translate loosely. We ended up exchanging cards and hope we will meet them someday in Oklahoma or in Pennsylvania. The trip onward to the Gross-Gerau tomorrow hotel was uneventful, except for several traffic jams on the way. In between the traffic jams I was able to get up to speed at 195 km an hour a couple of times. Elizabeth said it was “eventful” for her.We had a nice meal in a hotel restaurant called Zum Jaegerhof not far from the hotel.

June 20

It was very hot in the night. I think it was supposed to be in the 80′s and it felt like it. We thought we booked a hotel with air conditioning. Who would have thought a Best Western hotel would not have air conditioning. We cadged a fan from the manager and that was a little bit of help. By the time we woke up, the temperature dropped over 25 degrees and then felt better. After breakfast we decided to take advantage of a special offer to ride any public transportation anywhere in Germany for a month for only €9. We bought a €9 pass for each of us to go to downtown Frankfurt. It was very chilly and the temperature was about 65 downtown. We had a nice time walking around the old town of Frankfurt and then we took the subway to the old opera house. It started to drizzle and we had seen what we wanted to see downtown, so we took the subway and the S-Bahn back to Gross-Gerau. We knew we had to find another hotel for tomorrow night. What we didn't know was that Frankfurt was having 3 major fairs at the convention center downtown. The prices of rooms went up by three times at the airport. Finding one was even more impossible. We decided to have a Greek meal at the restaurant in our old hometown of Beuttelborn. Unfortunately, it is only open on Tuesdays to Saturdays for take out so we went back to a Greek restaurant I had been to 40 years ago. You can’t make up what I'm about to say right now. The waiter wanted us to sit outside but we didn't want to sit in the smoking area. We finally got through to him and he seated us inside. We were passed off to another waiter who got us a beer and two shots of annisette to clean our palettes. We had a little difficulty explaining that we didn't want two big meals. We wanted one meal to share. He finally got it and we settled for a meal that would probably be too much for us and it was, barely. We left the chicken breast and ate the other typically Greek meat with great tzatziki sauce. The waiter says I don't know how big your stomach is, I only know how big mine is in German. I told him my stomach was not as big as his, in German. Anyway, we ordered our meal and when he brought it over he said in English, “enjoy your meal”. I debated how to handle that and decided to do it with kindness. When he came back I told him his English was very good and my German wasn't too bad because I had lived in Germany for 11 years. That started a really interesting conversation. He thought we were still living in Germany. To make a long story short, which is hard for me. “Sam” Is from Greece and he is a major World War II history buff. We were talking about our trip and he told us he had just come back from D-Day celebrations in Normandy during the D-Day celebrations. While we were enjoying the end of our meal, he brought a picture of himself on his phone when he was in the army at 19 years old. I told him about my military service and he told me how much he loves the history of The Americans and World War II. He asked if I knew about the clickers that the 101st airborne used. We shared pictures of ourselves visiting Normandy and I showed him a picture of me in my class A uniform. It was a very very interesting conversation and before I knew it, he brought me a replica of the cricket that the 101st Airborne used to identify each other. I thought he was just showing it to me, but he says since he has two, I should have one as well. We continued to have a very nice chat about things in general. He wants me to send him a postcard from America, not an email. You just don't get those kinds of experiences on a tour when you are being shuttled from restaurant to restaurant of a preferred customer of the cruise lines. If we had not had the flexibility to go to another restaurant after the original one was closed, we would have missed out on this particular experience. At the end of the evening we were definitely on a first name basis and Sam asked if we’d like to have another anisette shot before we go. We said sure and the other waiter brought it to us before we left.

Jan 21

We got out of the hotel in plenty of time to fill the car up with gas so it would be full when we got to the airport. Unfortunately we were led to the wrong car drop off point and had to drive around the airport so the car was not quite full when we turned it in. It was also 5 minutes late according to the original contract but we didn't pick up the original car until an hour and a half later which was not reflected in the computer system. The man was very nice and told us he was going to backdate it to 10:27, so we wouldn't be charged for another day. He checked the car over and gave us the OK, but he had to fill out the paperwork manually because the computer said he couldn't do it electronically because he had delayed the final entries. He did say he was going to have to charge me for filling up the car and I forgot to tell him that was originally half full when I got it because he was being so nice to help about the extra day. When he finished the paperwork (literally and gave us a copy), he said you pay about 12 to 15 euros for the fuel but save 50 euros for the extra day. When we told him we are staying at the Hilton, he said let me show you how to get there and took time to walk to the end of the garage and show us exactly which elevator to get on and what floor to get off on. We didn't see anyone else getting that kind of service. I guess we look so helpless or he did it out of respect for our age. He was very impressed that we had traveled so far when he looked at the mileage we had driven and all the things we had seen. Maybe that's why he helped us so much. It doesn't matter, it just happens.

We got to the Hilton two hours earlier than normal check in time. While we were talking to Christin at the Check-in desk, she said if we wanted to check in now, it will be €39 extra. She said if you come back around 1, I can let you in without extra charge and store your bags for you while you are wandering the airport. What a deal. We had lunch in the airport area and went back at 1:00 to check-in. No problem. The room is very nice. We decided to find out exactly where to go for the flight tomorrow morning. We walked all the way to the shuttle that takes you to Terminal 2. I don’t like to leave anything to chance.

We will have spaghetti carbonara one more time before we leave tonight for dinner. We will rise and shine early tomorrow morning and go to the American Airlines Lounge before the flight and hope to get a bite to eat.

This will probably be the last major text upload and I will try and send some pictures later tonight. We look forward to getting home even though we had a great time over here.

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mst3kproject · 3 years ago

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Caltiki, the Immortal Monster

We've talked about how there are an awful lot of fishman movies. There are way too many Bigfoot movies. There are even a surprising number of movies about monsters named Paul, but one thing I swear I never thought would be in two different movies is growing space blobs in the Mexican jungle. Yet here we, are following up The Flame Barrier with Caltiki, the Immortal Monster. The cast includes Gérard Herter from Secret Agent Super Dragon and Daniele Vargas from Hercules Unchained. Mario Bava insists he didn't direct this but Riccardo Freda says he did, while most film websites blame both of them.

Long, long ago, the Maya were doing math and building pyramids in Mexico when a sudden unknown cataclysm forced them to abandon their cities. In the present (or at least the 60s), a group of scientists have come to the ruins to see if they can solve this mystery. Two of them venture into a cave, and only one returns, raving about Caltiki, a Mayan goddess. The rest of the party set out to find out what happened and perhaps rescue the other man, but instead discover a huge carnivorous blob monster! Most of this beast is destroyed by crashing a gasoline truck into it, but they take a sample back to Mexico City with them for analysis. Because that's a great idea that won't bite them in the ass at all.

The opening titles of this movie tell us that it is 'based on an ancient Mexican legend'. I don't know anything about Mexican folklore but I did look through the List of Mayan Gods and Supernatural Beings page on Wikipedia and there are no names there that you can remotely bend into 'Caltiki'. I'm going to assume this movie has about as much to do with ancient Mexican legends as Village of the Giants has to do with H. G. Wells' Food of the Gods. The same credits also tell us that the dancer we see ripping her own clothes off in some 'native ceremony' was a woman named Gay Pearl. The early 60's was around when the word 'gay' stopped being used to mean anything other than 'homosexual', so I suspect she changed it shortly thereafter.

Although the basic premise of a growing space blob in the jungles of Mexico is strongly reminiscent of The Flame Barrier, in several ways Caltiki, the Immortal Monster takes an opposite approach to telling the story. One of the things that made The Flame Barrier kind of annoying was how it puttered around in the jungle with character-driven stuff for ages before it even introduced the monster. Caltiki goes almost entirely in the other direction. The first thing we see is the aftermath of a monster attack, with the dying archaeologist staggering back to camp. In the minutes that follow, we watch the rest of the expedition puzzle over what happened to their colleagues, but we have almost no idea of who they are. Most of the character development has to wait until they get back to Mexico City.

Unfortunately, the characters are really not very interesting people. Our supposed hero is the dishwater-dull Dr. John Fielding, who is one of those movie science guys whose significant other whines because he would rather look down a microscope than gaze into her eyes. Fielding promises his wife Ellen that he'll pay more attention to her, and I guess he does because next time we see him he appears to be happy with her and their little daughter, but if I were to call the issue 'minimally addressed' I would be giving it way too much credit. The other subplot in the movie is about a mixed-race woman named Linda (repeatedly described as a 'half-breed') and her relationship with one of the archaeologists, Max. Max was a dick to begin with, and when he goes mad with pain after being attacked by the blob monster he only gets worse. He never seems very interesting or threatening, and since the audience knows there's a blob monster coming, we feel our time is being wasted. Linda, as the only major character who isn't white, is killed when Max decides she is no longer useful to him.

Another place where Caltiki does exactly what The Flame Barrier didn't, but with far better results, is with the monster itself. In The Flame Barrier the space blob was immobile and basically just looked like somebody spilled a truckload of petroleum jelly. The blob of Caltiki, however, truly is the coolest thing in the movie. It's a pulsating, leathery mass that reproduces by stickily dividing in two, and dissolves people's flesh to leave only their skeletons. There were worse monsters on Star Trek: the Next Generation nearly thirty years later. Not only that, but the blobs are active, able to roll around and grow to engulf screaming victims, with a satisfying sense of weight and volume to their movements. There are also some pretty good gore effects, my favourite of which is a guy who's still breathing despite having had his face dissolved.

The Flame Barrier kept its blob in the distant jungle, where the only people it was menacing were three explorers and a chimp. We were told about the threat of its exponential growth, but that was fairly abstract. In Caltiki we still don't get the city-smashing rampage depicted in one of the posters, but just knowing that the city is there and having Fielding's wife and daughter around to be chased by swarms of blobs makes the threat feel far more concrete.

So this movie gets right a lot of things the other Mexican Space Blob movie got wrong, but I wouldn't be reviewing it if it wasn't still a bad movie. The dull characters and the refusal to deal with their arcs is one big problem. Another is the poor picture quality. The lighting is mostly good enough that you can tell where people are and what they're doing, but the film stock itself is not very good, which makes for a loss of detail. In some of the wide shots you can't tell who's supposed to be talking because it's impossible to see whose mouths are moving. In another, Fielding consults a book that appears to consist entirely of blank pages.

The dubbing is also not great. Fielding and his wife have very bland voices, which is a big contributor to them seeming like very bland characters. The guy voicing Max gnaws on the scenery, sounding like a villain from an old Disney movie. Fielding's daughter Jenny has the voice of an adult woman trying to talk like a child, and it sounds even worse than the same thing did in Manos: the Hands of Fate.

The script is pretty ham-fisted at times, particularly in the character scenes that tell us things far more often than they show us. Much of this is the fault of whoever wrote the English dialogue, but there's also the series of ridiculous plot devices that prevent anyone from warning Ellen Fielding that the blob in her basement has begun to grow. First, Max escapes from the hospital and goes to the house to get help from Linda, and pulls out the phone cord so nobody can turn him in. One of the scientists, finding no answer on the phone, tries to drive out to the house to talk to Ellen, but gets into a car crash. The police block the road off while they investigate the wreck, and Fielding runs the road block in his own haste to get home, leading him to be arrested and thrown into jail! I have to admit, it was pretty funny just watching these contrived events pile up.

As far as having a point to make goes, Caltiki, the Immortal Monster kind of shaves by one in two different places, but never quite gets there. For starters, there's the idea of archaeology as a treasure hunt. When the diver first ventures into Caltiki's sacred underground lake, he finds the bottom littered with bones but also with the gold jewelry the sacrificial victims were wearing. He returns to the surface and does not even mention the skeletons, but brings fistfuls of gold and goes back for more despite the risk of running out of oxygen. I suppose he is punished for this, as is Max when he tries to retrieve a piece somebody else dropped, since they're both attacked by the blob. It doesn't really qualify as a thematic thread, though, since the gold is never mentioned again. For the rest of the movie, the characters are motivated by scientific interest in the blob itself.

This leads into what's sort of a second motif, people disregarding the danger posed by the blob. Fielding has a sample he wants to study (the movie has no idea what kind of scientist he is. An archaeologist? A microbiologist?), and upon discovering that radiation makes it grow, he pumps more into it to see what happens. He and his colleagues are admittedly more cautious about this than the characters in Reptilicus, but the idea's still there: scientists who think they have everything under control, but don't understand how dangerous what they're working with really is. Again, this doesn't really go anywhere. At the end they about-face and insist on destroying every scrap, not even leaving enough for an “... or is it?” ending.

Caltiki, the Immortal Monster comes very close to being so bad it's good. There's plenty of stuff to laugh at, while the actual monster is threatening and well-executed enough to be entertaining in the way it was intended to be. If the film-makers had diverted a little of that money into better film stock, I probably would have enjoyed the movie very much.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #caltiki the immortal monster #i reference star trek #60s #we're running out of plots

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 32

💖 first time reader click here 💖

Summary: Stephen Strange being a grown-up. Reader being a grown-up. Kind of. Revenge plot starts now - don't be like the mercenary, don't threaten reader's family. Avengers being good.. bros? Good found family idk. More smut + plot coming soon.

The silence hung awkwardly over us. Stephen wasn't the one to wax poetics, usually, and I wasn't in the mood to do anything but curl up somewhere warm, chug a bottle of liquor and fall asleep. Sleep is like death without the committment and after my little outburst, I inwardly prayed and begged for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Instead, I was directed to sit and drink my tea by the sorcerer, who, by the way, was beginning to look like a kicked puppy.

It was starting to become unbearable. "I'm listening," I finally croaked out, shocked at how raspy my voice sounded. As if someone had forced me to choke on some nails - and I felt like it, too. My hands were shaking, all but spilling the hot tea onto them.

"Princess..." His mouth did the thing when he was worried, lips pursed, their corners upturned. "What we did was not... Right, you were drugged without your consent. I am sure Tony feels the same way."

My eyebrows rose, words bubbling up to the surface as I fought the urge to simply start calling Stephen some strong names. Had he been blind the whole time I flirted with him, had he not seen both me and Tony ogling him when we thought nobody could see? Every time I joked about the sexual tension between them - you know what they say, every joke has a little bit of truth in it.

Or maybe the sorcerer had used the incident as a convenient excuse for our little fuck-fest to be a one-time thing? I expected more, I won't lie, but I wouldn't put it above him. I knew all too well that some men tended to simply... Avoid.

I was angry, probably rightfully so, but it was not the time for me to comfort an adult man. My own life was going to shit, I had no mental energy to unburden his baseless guilt. It was selfish and it made me feel even more like shit, but it was as if someone had flipped a switch inside of me. I just didn't care about someone's heartbreak. I needed to solve another problem, a much bigger than a man that couldn't make up his mind.

I had to find that damn mercenary. It was the only real threat hanging over our heads; unlike any mission that I've seen the team go on before, they had thrown all the forces into catching the man that had gotten into their safe space, their home. That threatened to take what they thought as theirs. Long gone were the days of comfortable domesticity.

"Okay," I replied, nodding curtly. "I wanted it, if it helps any. I thought you were attractive the first day I saw you." I spoke bluntly, beginning to feel like myself more and more with each word that I spoke. "And again, no strings have to be attached. I'm sure Tony will understand it too, it's not his first rodeo."

Stephen's head shot up from where he was examining his clasped hands, to study me with furrowed brows. Cloaky moved where it was wrapped around me, attracting the sorcerer's attention - I, unfortunately, did not understand the Cloak's sign language and what it told Stephen remained a mystery to me. I was just delighted to be out of the cold and and wet clothes.

"I think you misunderstood me," Stephen eyed me with surprise. "I want more, but..." He trailed off, unsure. "I don't know. I'm surprised Banner hasn't gone green on me yet. I'm a doctor, I should have known..."

So, he was pulling a me and wallowing in pity. Is this really how pathetic I looked when I used to mope around the house earlier? No wonder my mother thinks I'm a baby. "Stephen, I'm really not in the mood to listen to bullshit. I wanted it, you wanted it, great, we can move on. Because with everything that has happened to me, I really have no energy to convince you I like you even while sober when you're sabotaging yourself." Sure, I might have ripped off the motivational speech from a self-help book my mother used to have laying around. My patience was wearing thinner with each second. "There, I said it. I like you, my boyfriends like you, you're welcome to the club if you decide to believe the fact that I am telling the truth." And if he wouldn't, well, I could get over it. I was planning to never act upon my feelings for both Tony and Bruce, it hadn't been as hard as I thought it would be. Especially with me being busy enough to just ignore the feelings.

At some point, I had grown attached to Stephen. Perhaps, if I and Tony hadn't decided to mess around with the sorcerer at the party, my feelings wouldn't have bloomed into anything more than physical attraction. Murphy's law had a particularly strong affinity on me, I noticed, because over and over I found myself falling head over heels for emotionally unavailable men. It worked out with Tony, which wasn't as surprising as one might expect, considering we're two halves of a whole idiot, but then Bruce also decided to pucker up - Stephen was bound to be the rock that I trip on.

Or not? Soft lips pressed against my forehead, beard hair softly tickling the tip of my nose. I was pressed against a solid chest, surrounded by warmth and comfort. "I'm sorry, I'm an idiot," Steph whispered, voice quivering.

"Well, it's not like this... Relationship... I've got going on is something commonplace," My arms wrapped around him, a deep sigh relaxing my body into his. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. It wasn't right."

Stephen chuckled, all but pulling me bodily into his lap. "Don't worry, Princess. I deserved it." As he spoke, the Cloak carefully unwrapped itself from me, drifting away with a parting pat on my back. "Now what happened with your parents?" Large palms pushed the hair out of my face, stormy blue eyes looking at me with worry.

"I should probably assemble all my significant others for this conversation," There was little enthusiasm in discussing the incident. I was an adult and had enough money to get by for a few months, at least until I could patent one of my inventions. I had plenty of knick-knacks that should be able to interest buyers, that much I knew, and while the legal side of the process was a blank slate to me, I knew I could be charismatic enough to have someone work it out for me.

"I don't think I'll be able to take Steve seriously when he says 'assemble', now," My third boyfriend chuckled, which - wow, I didn't have boyfriends and now I had three? Should I be considering opening a factory or something? Stephen adjusted his hold on me. "Let's go, I'll portal us in."

"My car's out there with all my stuff. I'll have to drive," I protested but made no move to get out of his lap.

"Tony is a billionaire, he can pay someone to retrieve it," Shrugging carelessly, he produced a golden circle of magic, the common room couch in plain sight at the other side of it. I heard voices and then Clint's head peaked through, a curiously tilted eyebrow morphing into full fledged face of confusion upon seeing the two of us.

Yikes. I had forgotten about the state of my dress and the bruise on my cheek. "Hey, bird. I need a drink," I said the first thing that popped into my mind, causing both Clint and Steph to laugh as the sorcerer carried me into the tower through the portal.

"I'm starting to think you go out there and look for trouble on purpose," The archer sighed, pulling out his phone and texting rapidly. Mine vibrated, too, once he was done, which meant he'd called for a family meeting. Blergh.

In no time, Tony appeared, dark circles under his eyes and yesterday's shirt on, towing a worried Bruce behind him. One after the other, the Avengers tickled in, looking restless and exhausted. Loki's frown was well on its way to becoming a full sneer.

"Talk, please," He requested, eyeing me with concern.

"Good news is I got our rogue wizard back," I poked Stephen in the chest. He was blushing. "Bad news is my mother threw me out and my father didn't pick up the phone, so technically I'm homeless and parent-less," I decided that spitting out straight facts was the easiest way to go about it. I mean, there was no good way to tell what I just told them.

The storm that I anticipated didn't appear. Just a lot of disappointed sighs all around, especially from Tony, who looked twenty years older after I'd confessed to the current state of my affairs. "You're not homeless, you live here," He pointed out, rubbing his face and muttering some very strong words under his nose. Particularly, the expressions involved my mother and various methods of fornication.

"We got your back, doll," Bucky nodded, coming over to wrap me in a gentle hug. He was like a brother from another mother to me at this point, kind and goofy and sensible. "I would propose to teaching that harpy a lesson but I think she's beyond it."

"Perhaps it's for the best," Loki mused suddenly. "If I recall correctly, your mother was against your career of choice, which is idiotic. Science is a noble and prospective path." The Asgardian, too, gave me a hug.

I wasn't crying! There were ninjas, in the vents, cutting onions! "Stop it guys, I'm gonna cry. I already look like shit!" The protest was silenced by Bruce's lips on mine, his tiny smile briefly covering my mouth with tenderness. After that, everybody somehow decided it was their job to try and make me cry; like a bad bitch, I resisted, but eventually broke and started sniffling when Tony began rambling about building me my own lab and Wanda offered to help me decorate my new apartment.

No matter how much my mind screamed at me to refuse, I forced that noise down. Fighting against myself, accepting help despite feeling unworthy of it - it was probably the hardest thing I've done in my whole life.

Bruce volunteered to carry my prone body to Tony's bedroom which was quickly becoming the master bedroom for the three of us - ever since the incident, both of my scientists stuck close to me whenever possible, aggressively cuddling me whenever they decided it was time to get some sleep. Which wasn't much these days, if I was being honest. Persuading Bruce to stay with me was a novelty - usually he didn't resist, but that time, I had to repeat myself multiple times that the team could handle business even without him being present.

I had my ulterior motives, of course. Tony and Stephen needed to talk. I only hoped their egos wouldn't clash without me to mediate - having two boyfriends start a fight wasn't something I wanted to experience. I had zero experience in those matters and had no idea how to manage all that. Are there handbooks for polyamorous relationships? I stuck a mental post-it note inside my brain to check it out.

I fell asleep with Bruce wrapped around me and woke up in the same position, having been too exhausted to move even in my sleep. Voices, rough and quiet, were the first thing I heard upon syncing my brain into a resemblance of a working order, instantly recognizing Stephen's deep baritone and Tony's teasing drawl.

"Expect either Reindeer Games or Kim Possible to come and terrify you," My engineer didn't sound particularly ecstatic. His voice came from somewhere around my feet; the hand wrapped around my ankle, thumb gently stroking the skin, must've been his.

"Duly noted," Stephen's reply was equally sarcastic, sounding a little closer. The warmth coming from my side was him. I could smell the faint spices that surrounded him, smell that I'd come to associate with the Sanctum.

Bruce snored away, not a care in the world.

My body, on the other hand, felt rested for what felt the first time in years. A pleasant ache in my muscles had me begrudgingly squirm out of Banner'd grasp, shamelessly pushing up into Stephen as I stretched with a juicy yawn. "What's poppin'?" I rubbed my eyes, finding the men awake looking at me with fond amusement.

"Just watching," Tony smiled, causing me to giggle at his accidental meme-ing. Was it even accidental? I refused to believe that a man well versed in IT was oblivious to meme culture.

Stephen, on the other hand... "We've discussed some things, wanted to talk to you too." His hand stroked my hair, face expression soft unlike anything I'd ever seen him have. "But you were sleeping. So cute."

Me, cute? There was a puddle of drool the size of a dollar bill on my pillow, I was pretty sure some of it had even gotten in Bruce's hair. Banner's sleep was quiet except for every five minutes when he'd let out a snore with a force somewhere between a Mack truck and a whale in mating season.

Cute, sure.

Bruce groaned, a tell-tale sign of him waking up. I met his eyes, brown, shiny, a narrow edge of green around his irises. Huh. Do I have three boyfriends or four?

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95 @gladiosamicitias

#party favours #bun writes #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x y/n #stephen strange x y/n #tony stark x reader #bruce banner x reader #stephen strange x reader #tony stark x you #bruce banner x you #stephen strange x you

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chaoticpuff17 · 4 years ago

Text

A Dangerous Game

part 25

masterlist

Hello darlings! guess who finished her paper! This bitch! This one’s a little short again, my apologies, but we are inching ever closer to the inevitable for Y/N and Namjoon. Again, please take a look at the teasers for the hyung line. I would love to know opinions on who you all think I should write for next! Comment, ask, send me a message! I’d love to hear from you!-- chaotic puff

The next few weeks were oddly reminiscent of her first weeks at the estate. She was never alone. It was a though everyone around her thought she was going to break, and maybe she had. Her world had been turned on its head, and suddenly she felt every bit the fragile lady that Namjoon had made her out to be. Jackson’s betrayal had hit her hard leaving her far more listless than normal. It was as though all the fight had gone out of her. But just because she was listless, this did not mean that the estate was as well.

Everything around her was bustling in preparation for the upcoming wedding. Due to her “fragile” condition, Namjoon had taken all the planning in hand. There were a constant stream of his people going in and out of the estate. Cake tasting and floral arrangements, tuxedo fittings, and anything else you could think of. It was as though Namjoon was determined to have everything arranged as quickly as possible, before either she or GOT7 could change their minds. She doubted though that anyone changing their minds would stop him. He was a formidable man in more than one way she was finding. She didn’t think that she had ever seen a man take wedding preparations quite so seriously.

She didn’t know how he had the energy to do it all. He was running his criminal empire, planning a wedding, and he still found time to spend doting on her. She swore there was something new every day, flowers, deserts, jewelry, books. All the affection was a little smothering, and when Namjoon wasn’t with her one of his goons was. She had hoped Jungkook’s return would mean a return to his being her babysitter, but that was unfortunately not the case. She had a stream of different babysitters, the most daunting of whom was Hoseok.

While she had a preexisting dislike of Taehyung based on his being the one to place the anklet on her, and Yoongi was a decided grump, something about Hoseok unnerved her. The man was a ball of sunshine, most of the time. But there were moments where the sunshine faded away, and in its place was a darkness very much akin to Namjoon’s. At least Namjoon wore his darker nature like a second skin. He was a predator through and through. Hoseok’s darkness was hidden under a carefully cultivated layer of sunshine. If Namjoon was the wolf, then Hoseok was the snake hiding in the grass, and in this game she was only prey. With Namjoon she knew what to expect, but Hoseok was like a pipe bomb without a timer. You never knew when he was going to go off. Her discomfort didn’t seem to dissuade him from following Namjoon’s orders though. On days he was assigned to her, where she went, he followed to every fitting, cake tasting, and walk through the garden.

She was sitting in the garden basking in the autumn sun taking a break from the constant stream of wedding plans, completely exhausted. Luckily her guard for the day had to be the most laid back out of all of them. Yoongi was just as content as she was to bask in the sunshine doing nothing. If someone had told her that he was secretly a cat, she probably would have believed them. The man had a very feline quality to him, but she found him to be a very calming presence despite his grumpy demeanor. He spent the least time of all her minders treating her like a doll that would break if not handled with care.

“You’re getting married next week.” He pointed out as she waved off one of the maids telling her that her dress had arrived. “Shouldn’t you be more excited?”

“I would be, if I actually wanted to marry the man.” She scoffed taking a sip of her tea.

“You agreed to this.” He deadpanned.

She rolled her eyes leveling him a look that was just as deadpan as the one he was giving her. “That was before I found out Jackson was still in the mafia, and that sacrificing myself for him was useless, before his friends sold me off like it was the 1400s.”

“Want me to shoot him?” He asked taking a drink from his coffee. She could swear the man survived on coffee alone.

She laughed though it held no joy. It a bittersweet sort of sound. “Do you think it would help? Would it magically send me home or send me back in time to before I met Namjoon?”

“No.” He shrugged. “But I’m a really good shot.”

And he was. Yoongi was an excellent shot. She’d found out from Taehyung and Jungkook that Yoongi was a sniper, an assassin, a fixer. He took care of problems for Namjoon. If someone got on Namjoon’s bad side, Yoongi was the one that paid them a visit.

“You wanna marry Namjoon then? That would make me feel better.” He snorted shooting her an unimpressed look. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

She shivered as a stiff autumn breeze went through her. Almost immediately a maid was there offering her a shawl. She took it only because she knew that the maid was only trying to help. Namjoon had given everyone strict orders to take care of her which translated to the hovering she had been living with for the past few weeks.

“You could have all this. People waiting on you hand and foot.” She tried to convince him as she wrapped the shawl loosely around her shoulders only slightly annoyed that Namjoon had given one the maids a shawl to hover over her with that perfectly matched the dress that she had chosen to wear that day. He was annoyingly meticulous like that.

“They already do that.”

“Only ‘cause they’re scared you’ll break their kneecaps.”

“Too much effort.” He shrugged slouching down in his seat. “You should go try on your dress though. Namjoon will throw a hissy fit if it doesn’t fit, and I don’t want to deal with that.”

“You and I both know that Jin or Hoseok would be dealing with that tantrum.” She reminded him. Jin and Hoseok were the poor souls to deal with the brunt of what could only be described as Namjoon’s pre-wedding jitters. She wasn’t supposed to know about them, but Jin, Yoongi, Taehyung, and Jungkook had no qualms about complaining about their perfectionist boss and friend to her so she heard every detail of his almost manic pursuit of perfection for their wedding day.

“Think of Jin hyung.”

“Jin can give him a sedative and do us all a favor.” She hummed gently pushing herself out of her seat and moving over to examine the flowers that were in bloom. “Besides we both know that he wouldn’t allow the dress to be anything less than perfect. I’m pretty sure he threatened the poor seamstress with a bullet through her skull if she didn’t make sure everything was perfect.”

“If you took more interest in your wedding, maybe he wouldn’t be so stressed.”

“If I took more interest in this sham of a wedding, it would give him far too much pleasure.”

Yoongi chuckled finishing off his cup of coffee. “He’s excited to have a legal claim to you, can’t say that I blame him.”

“You want to marry me too, Yoongi?” She asked throwing him a coquettish look over her shoulder.

“No. You’re far too much trouble. But you’re good for him.”

“I’d stab him in a heartbeat given the chance, and you know it.”

“You already have.” He pointed out. “You weren’t aiming for him though. Planning to try again?” He inquired quirking a brow at her.

She was going to answer him, but a different maid made her presence known carrying in a bouquet of pink and white peonies. “Bu-in, the sajangnim sent these for you. Where would you like them?”

She sighed giving Yoongi a long suffering look before turning a tired smile on the poor maid. “Put them in the piano room please. I don’t think the bedroom has any more room for flowers.”

“Yes, bu-in.” She bowed scurrying away to place the flowers where she was directed to.

“You can tell your friend to stop sending gifts. I don’t have any need for diamonds, and if he doesn’t stop soon, we’ll be drowning in flowers.”

“Wait till the wedding. We’ll really be drowning in flowers then. Who knew Namjoon was such a romantic.”

“Romantic, psychotic, same thing.” She shrugged watching as yet another maid come out to tell her something. “Sajangnim has arrived. Would you like me to prepare a fresh pot of tea?”

“No. If he wants something he’ll ask for it. I’ll be in the piano room.” She sighed suddenly feeling more tired than before. “Would you like to come Yoongi? We can practice that sonata, and you can yell at me for messing up the notes.” She offered.

She’d found over the past few weeks that while Yoongi was a grump and Namjoon’s fixer, he was also an excellent pianist. They’d played a few songs together, but his skill far outweighed her own. More often than not he ended up scolding her for missing the rhythm or the notes or not placing her fingers correctly.

“That piano is wasted on you.” He grumbled.

“I’m aware, Yoongi. I’m aware.”

She headed towards the door knowing that Yoongi would follow shortly as Namjoon had yet to steal her away, and she wasn’t to be without a minder when Namjoon wasn’t present. The man had become more paranoid than normal ever since the incident, as he liked to call it. Before, her minders could give her a bit of space, but now space was a thing of the past.

Namjoon found them in the piano room playing the same duet that they had been practicing for the past two weeks. He didn’t even mind the sharp reprimands that Yoongi would snap at her, something he normally wouldn’t allow, because Yoongi had gotten her to play the piano again. She hadn’t touched the instrument since the incident, but Yoongi had gotten her to play again, unsurprising given the man’s talent for piano and the beautiful instrument that was at his disposal at the manor.

“Schubert again?” He asked remaining just outside the door. This was her space, and he was hesitant to invade it without her permission given the incident. He didn’t want anything to set her off again. He didn’t think he could handle another incident.

“Sonata for four hands ‘Grand duo’. It’s only the first movement though.” She responded with a slight smile while Yoongi grumbled at the interruption.

“She can finally play part of the first movement without it sounding like a toddler.”

She didn’t seem to mind the insult though choosing instead to lean her head on the man’s shoulder with a gentle smile. She never seemed to mind Yoongi’s more abrasive comments, and Yoongi never seemed to mind her more affectionate gestures. They all knew he was secretly a softy. She’d known that from the first time she’d seen him with Moni. The man was a sucker for dogs.

Yoongi shrugged her off and got up leaving without another word, leaving her alone with Namjoon who came to sit next to her on the piano bench.

“I see you got my flowers.” He mused while she hummed in agreement. “Play for me?” He asked, and she did.

part 26

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #bts rm #bts namjoon #namjoon #namjoon x reader #mafia namjoon #yandere namjoon #yandere #soft yandere #rm x reader #rm #mafia #mafia au #dark romance #a dangerous game #fanfic

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hetacon · 4 years ago

Text

Prom Queen: Chapter 4

First || Previous || Next

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Word Count: 1,800

Pairings: Endgame Prinxiety, Platonic LAMP, more could be included at a later point

Warning: Swearing, small food mention, let me know if there’s anything I missed!

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Summary: “Hey Virgil, tell us about yourself, yeah?” one of the girls asked, the guy she was just talking with fixing his gaze on to Virgil too.

(Make sure to read all the way to the end if you want my thoughts so far! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this story, my art, or writing! Enjoy the chapter!)

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Virgil started to spend more time with the popular kids after they got back to school, something he never thought would be happening. They were gossipy and didn’t really appeal to Virgil as overall people but Roman was their friend so he started to get to know them for the sake of his best friend. He didn’t even really know them honestly, they almost never talked about themselves or their interests or anything in terms of personal information, the conversations almost consistently focused on the drama going around the school that day. There was something new every time they went over. For a solid month, he and Roman would go chat for a minute or two before going off to find Patton and Logan.

That was actually what they were just doing that day when one of Roman’s friends got Virgil’s attention.

“Hey Virgil, tell us about yourself, yeah?” one of the girls asked, the guy she was just talking with fixing his gaze on to Virgil too.

Virgil looked over to Madison if he remembered correctly, trying to hide most of his shock at the fact that she even addressed him. Not many of Roman’s friends acknowledged him much when they would go over but Virgil guessed they’d taken some interest in him. He had been coming over with Roman for quite a good while now, it figures they’d notice his presence at some point. He had to respond quick though, this chance couldn’t go to waste. “Uh, ok, what do you want to know?”

“What kind of music do you listen to?” Well, an odd question to start off with.

Virgil shrugged a bit. “Eh, just what everyone else listens to, you know? Not really anything in particular. It’s not like I really look for songs to listen to by anyone specific.”

Roman nudged him with a snort. “Since when has this ever been the case? If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you’re emo through and through,” he said, a certain fondness to his look. Virgil bumped his shoulder with a laugh back, fixing him with a playful glare.

“And what if I can like things that you don’t expect of me, huh?” Virgil asked with a slight tease. Roman simply raised an eyebrow but shrugged, letting the argument go without much more of a struggle. Roman wasn’t wrong though, he still listened to everything that he had before, none of it had changed despite what he said. Definitely none of what people usually listened to. He was never one to follow trends with music or otherwise and Roman unfortunately knew that.

“Do you do anything interesting?” one of the people joining the conversation asked.

“Things here and there, not exactly much. School is a drag, takes up way too much of my time to actually let me focus on anything even remotely interesting,” Virgil said calmly, trying to look casual. He hoped it was working, he felt like a nervous wreck. With a few laughs and a “Fuck yeah it is!” he mustered up the courage to add in, “I draw if that counts for anything.”

“Oh yeah? Mind if we take a look?”

Virgil nodded and rummaged through his bag, finding a leather bound book. This one happened to be his more serious one, he had another that was far more personal stashed away. Only Roman, Patton, and Logan ever saw that one, and not even in its full entirety. The personal one had gotten a lot more use than the one currently in his hands. Virgil slid the book over the table and he watched as it was opened to a page of really messy scribbles in the shape of a distraught person’s face. He’d remembered drawing that one, he was in the middle of history sophomore year having a panic attack but was too nervous to ask to step outside.

“Woah, this is cool man,” Tyler said as he looked over it, others nodding in agreement. They proceeded to flip through the pages for a bit while they took turns asking him more questions.

With so much talk, Virgil noticed Roman jump up suddenly, tugging at Virgil’s sleeve frantically. “Pat and Specs!” he explained before packing up his things frantically. “So sorry guys, I need to talk to them before we have to go to class! I’ll catch up with you tomorrow!” he shouted out as he started speed walking, Virgil in tow. Virgil barely managed to collect up his stuff before he was at Roman’s side, seeing the slightest crease between Roman’s eyebrows. As relieved as Virgil was to be away from all of the questions and potential judgement, he noticed Roman was in a big rush. He couldn’t really place why.

“Hey, you uh.. You ok? What’s up?” Virgil asked, relieved as Roman slowed down a little as they turned a corner.

“I just want to get to Pat and Specs, they’re our friends you know?” Roman asked with a bit of an edge before sighing. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect you to uh.. Hit it off so much with them, I usually just say a quick hello really,” he explained.

“Really? You think so?” Virgil really hoped he was impressing the popular kids, they were Roman’s friends after all. If he was having luck with them, he wasn’t going to lose Roman that easily. He couldn’t possibly do that, not when he’d already put so much at risk.

“Yeah but anyone who doesn’t like you how you are is insane,” Roman said lowly. Virgil thought he saw Roman’s jaw clench for a second but he quickly looked ahead of them as Roman glanced over.

Virgil was tackled in a hug by Patton, causing him to smile as he hugged back. He didn’t smile for long though as the bell rang, causing Roman to sigh. He looked over, laughing a little awkwardly. “Ha, sorry Ro, didn’t mean to make us so late.”

Roman shrugged. “It’s ok, just means we’ll have to get here as soon as possible tomorrow!” With that, he and Logan started to talk as they headed to class together.

Virgil watched as Roman walked away from him and Patton and he frowned slightly before Patton was nudging his shoulder and nodding his head to the direction of their classes.

Virgil nodded back and started walking, burying his hands deep into his pockets. He really wished he had his usual hoodie to pull over his head and hide from the world. His bangs would have to do, giving him a good look at the sickeningly sweet pink he’d decided on a month prior. Who let him do that again?

“Hey, you ok?” Patton asked, silently offering Virgil a cookie. Snickerdoodle today, Virgil would’ve usually loved it.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Virgil told him. “I’m not hungry, thanks though.”

Patton looked at him with a worried look for a second before sighing, taking a bite of the cookie himself. “Alright Virge, if you say so. Who knows, maybe some rest is all you need, make sure you go easy on yourself!”

Virgil agreed, looking ahead of them.

He went home that day and went through the motions in a haze, glad when he finally got out of his disgustingly bright outfit. He stared blankly at the wall when he got a text from Roman.

“Hey, sorry I was so tense where we left things off.. I promise you didn’t do anything, that was all me.”

“What was up with that?” Virgil texted back.

Roman’s response took a minute before it popped up on Virgil’s screen. “I don’t know, I just didn’t expect them to really take such an interest in you. They can be a bit... Stuffy. Like, all the time, I much prefer hanging out with you, Pat, and Specs.”

“I mean, they’re your friends right? They asked me questions, I answered.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Some of your answers surprised me though lol, you are truly a dark and stormy knight after all!”

“Hey, I’m allowed to expand my tastes, aren’t I? You got me into some of your dumb musicals after all.”

“They are not dumb, take that back you jerk!”

Virgil snorted, hugging his pillow to his chest as he typed out another message. “Oh yeah? Make me, you pompous thespian drama queen.”

“I just might!”

Before Virgil could respond, Roman shot him a quick text reading “Shit, GTG, I need to run a few scenes before I sleep! Until tomorrow~!”

“Go chase your dreams of ‘professional make believe’ as Logan would say, night.”

As an afterthought, Virgil tacked on a red heart before blushing harshly, cursing into his hands. He really did that, no taking that one back now was there?

Either way, check in time. Roman was still his friend, they just had a normal conversation like two human beings ought to be able to have. While he seemed a little off-put by some of the changes Virgil was talking about, he didn’t seem to take it as a serious offense so a plus there. The clothes were horrible, Virgil still hated his hair, but he was doing this for Roman so he’d suck it up. Roman’s friends were starting to like him, they liked his art so that was good. Luckily they latched on to something he couldn’t lie about.

Just as Virgil was about to go to bed, another notification popped up on his phone, this time from an unknown number. Virgil stared at it for moment, his brow furrowed. He opened it though and read it.

“Hey Virgil, this is Madison! Got ur number from Roman’s phone lol, hope u don’t mind sweetie!”

Well, he kind of did mind but putting that aside-

“Hi, did you need anything?”

“Not rn but I might! Just wanted to have ur number just in case. Anyways, I’m going to bed, see u tomorrow!”

Virgil nodded to himself before he got one more text.

“BTW loveeeee ur artwork, keep up the good work bby!”

This was certainly... Bizarre. He didn’t expect to ever have the number of a popular girl in his phone but he never knew high school would be this insane. He’d survive this though, for Roman if nothing else. And if not, he just might lose Roman forever and never be able to forget about it for as long as he lives! Ok, breathe Virgil, breathe...

Things would work out, Virgil was going to make sure they did or die trying. Nobody, Roman included, could think to stop him now.

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More Prom Queen content huh? Anyways hey hey hey guys! How’d you like the newest chapter?

To be honest, I’m not sure how to feel about this one. I feel like all of my writings sound like they’re in an echo chamber. Like as if the events are completely isolated and don’t fit into an expansive narrative and existence. I have no idea if that makes a bit of sense, it might just be my depression tbh? It’s been kicking my butt more than usual.

But Virgil is finally getting noticed by the popular kids, woohoo! This obviously can’t go wrong! We shall see what Virgil will be getting up to with time!

As always, feel free to leave comments or send me asks and whatnot if you want to talk with me about the story! I’d love to hear from you guys!

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Taglist: @artissijules, @virgils-paranoia, @its-the-cat-queen, @myyoutubecorner, @marshmallow-the-panda, @anotheregofanficblog, @tssidesfamily, @shapa-likes-art, @isabelle-stars, @falsemood, @katlikethesword

#sanders sides #prinxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #multichapter #prom queen #stan writing

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malkumtend · 4 years ago

Text

(Their) Booth. Human Warriors AU.

“This is my booth.”

Crow does not consider that the voice is directed in him, therefore he continues to scroll through his phone.

“Hey.” The voice raises and Crow hears the hint of annoyance. “I said this is my booth.”

His own mood souring, Crow turns and returns the narrowed eyes the girl gives him. She stands with her arms crossed, green eyes flashing, her look is so thundering that it may have looked intimidating, if it wasn’t clear that she was half a foot shorter than him.

And he was only 5,7.

“What?” He tries to push her away with the growl on his tone.

“You’re in my booth.” She says it again, her frown sharpens.

“Your booth?”

“My booth.”

“Is your name on it?”

Her annoyed glare darkens. “Is yours?”

Crow already decides he hates this girl. Whoever she is. She seems familiar somehow (it would be hard to picture not remembering the dark ginger curls or the peach coloured skin or the dotting specks of freckles) but Crowpaw doesn’t care to find the time to remember.

He takes a sip of his milkshake, clicking his tongue as the tang of mint lingers. “I’m not the one claiming a seat is mine.”

“Well I am, so will you move?”

“Find somewhere else.” He tries to cut it off, turning back to his phone. He knows that she won’t; this break hour is near lunch which means that every table is full and bursting with laughter or chatter.

Still it’s a slightly more polite way of telling her to piss off.

She doesn’t budge. An eyebrow raises. “Why don’t you?” In the crook of her arm rests her own milkshake, her fingers drum on the cup impatiently.

“I’m already here.” There’s no way he would even consider moving, even if she was a friend rather than a nuisance of a stranger. It’s still half an hour before his next class, and without his friends out of their own periods, he’ll be damned if he’s walking out alone for that long.

Her green eyes dart over the booth, “Are you waiting on people?”

His eyes burn as she smirks. “None of your business.”

“You’re taking up a six-person booth, you seat hog.”

He leans back on the chair, his jacket squeaks against the leather seat. “I don’t hear anyone else complaining.” He ignores when she lazily uses her hand to gesture over herself. “Whatever.”

“Are you going to move or not?”

“Are you going to make me?” The silence makes him think he’s beaten her. A split second later, she’s across from him on the other side of the booth. Her feet tuck over the seat, letting her back slip against the wall as she pulls out her phone, scrolling as she uses her other hand to let a straw link her treat to her lips.

Crowpaw stares as she expertly ignores him. “What are you doing?”

Her lips smack as the straw leaves her lips, “Drinking a milkshake. Can I have some privacy?”

“You’re at my table.” He falls into the trap and cringes when she says it, smirking with a grin full of sugary, sickly sweetness.

“I don’t see your name on it.” She coos, “Now a little quiet please, I am letting you share my booth after all.”

Crow felt like he wanted to stand up and start screaming, but they were in the middle of a busy milkshake place, and he would more than likely be thrown out, and this time was the only peace he got to himself. So he glowers, sucking in milk and sugar through the bitten crease of his straw and tries to block out her face with the screen of his phone.

…

Same time the next week, he sits in that booth. It takes ten minutes for her to arrive. She doesn’t even speak before she sits down on the other (her?) side of the booth.

He figures they’ll stay silent like last time, so he just frowns and tries to focus on his drink.

Then she grins again, “Thanks for saving my spot.”

His hand grasps the cup so much a shot of vanilla goes right down his throat. After stifling his cough, he growls. “Haven’t you got any friends to hang with?”

She shrugs and pulls up a bright, sunny yellow backpack adorned with badges of flags. “Got class this period.”

He could say ‘likely story’ but he knows she’ll just throw it back at him. So, he just grumbles a complaint and fails to ignore when she pulls out a notebook and a textbook, something to do with film studies. She opens to a task page and starts writing in her notes.

She notices him looking, “It’s not at the last minute, for your information. It’s for tomorrow.”

He blinks. “I wasn’t going to ask.”

She doesn’t look up. “We both know you were.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Sure.” As she writes, her ginger curls fall over her eyes, blocking their gazes from meeting, ending the conversation. It suits Crow just fine, as he relishes the silence. It means he can tolerate the intruder (was she an intruder it wasn’t his seat either) enough to not feel a vein throb.

Then after filling a page, she speaks again. “Should you really be drinking that?”

Crow’s face twists, “What?”

Still not looking up, she points her pen perfectly at his vanilla bean iceblast, “That? You’re on the track team, right?”

His brow hardens and he sets the drink down. He tries to remember this girl again. “How do you know that?”

The pen flicks towards the gym bag beside him. “Well there’s that, and I don’t think you have the… build for the football team.”

Crow suddenly regrets wearing the thermal top today. He crosses his arms over his lean, but extremely un-muscled, body.

“That’s going to take a two-mile run to burn off, right?”

He scoffs, “You make that sound like it’s a big deal. Not much of a runner, are you?”

She lifts her head to frown at him, “Careful, you’re Miss Ashfoot’s kid, aren’t you? I don’t think she’d like to know what calories your poisoning your body with.” She almost sounds like her, wagging a mocking finger at him with her artificial authority.

She isn’t wrong though. His mother would freak out.

Crow scoffs, putting down his phone, “As long as I burn it off, it doesn’t matter. Besides, I’d still run rings round someone like you any day.”

“Oh, is that right?” The girl says furtively, “You wanna take this outside, then?”

Crow laughs, it’s full of mocking spite, but it’s a laugh. “I think I’ll save you the embarrassment.” He wasn’t going to waste his break over some fight or race he knew he’d win.

She leans back, her chin rising up, her eyes shine a gratified emerald. “Good excuse.” Crow wipes off the trap like dirt off his shoulder. His eyes drag down to her textbooks.

“A film student then?” He might have guessed. Those lot were known for being an extravagant type.

She pouts, placing a hand over her book like they’re in middle-school. “You’re nosy, aren’t you?”

“You seem like the kind of girl who’d be absorbed in a camera?”

She hasn’t taken off her dark green winter jacket, the beige faux fur on the hood surrounds her neck like a lion’s mane. It’s like she’s dressed like she wants everyone to look at her.

She laughs off his comment, sneering. “Says the weedy kid, on his own, dressed only in black.”

Fucking A! This girl was quick!

“And you’re wrong, I’m mostly behind the camera.” She says pridefully, her pen taps on the table with a show of reverence. “I’m part of the directing team.”

“What? The staff intern?”

“Ha ha, weedy. We’re in the middle of a major project.” She looks over her notes again, beaming. “It’s going to be awesome!”

He feigns ignorance with a small huff, but a part of him is interested. Everyone likes movies. Even the shitty ones could be a good laugh.

She writes another set of notes down, then looks up again. “So you’re Crow, right?” Her grin skulks over him. “Like the bird.”

He rolls his eyes, a lifetime of childhood taunts rolling in his memory. It doesn’t bother him so much, but it still makes him groan. “Mhmm.”

Her arm moves and Crow expects the offer of a handshake. Instead he’s met with a not-so-light punch on the arm. She whips the locks out of her eyes as he rubs his arm. “Squirrel.” She says.

“Oh, like the bushy tailed rat?” He says instead of ‘like the daughter of Fireheart, head of the Thunder department’ because he does not want her to feel like she’s special.

Regretfully, it seems she likes his answer more. “You can’t talk, bird boy.” Her laugh is real.

…

He easily wins the track meet, he always does. His heart doesn’t start pacing until the fourth lap, and by the time he’s finished the tenth, the rest are only on the eighth.

“Good work, Crow.” His mother says, permitting him to sit down on the bleachers. “Keep it up.” She pipes on her whistle, waiting for the others.

He drinks his water and rubs the sweat out of his eyes. He checks the stopwatch attached to his hip and purses his lips when he sees he’s twenty seconds off his last run. Oh well, he considers, he’s still at the top. It keeps his mother happy. (keeps him happy) He shakes his head.

He gazes up into the bleachers and smiles when he sees Feather is there. She’s part of the swimming team and they met because of a sports team gathering last term. She’d come up to him and told him he’d left his water bottle in the gym.

After that Crow was pulled into her smile. It’s a smile he always responds too.

Until he sees who’s next to her, waving, still keeping that stupid grin of hers.

After greeting Feather, he sits down and hisses into her ear. “Are you following me?”

“In your dreams, bird-brain. Feather’s my Math tutor, she wanted to come and see you before we head into Highstone Steet to go to ‘Milkshakes 4 You’ before we head to hers to study.”

Crow forgot that Feather mentioned how she tutored some students. “Have you two met?” She asks, her eyes glittering on the two.

Crow grumbles, “Unfortunately.”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” Squirrel pipes, gleaming Feather with a smile, “Me and him are milkshake pals.”

“We are not!”

“Oh, that’s great!” Feather’s always pleasant and friendly voice rings out, “Should we all head there together?”

Crow sees Squirrel’s fluttering eyelashes that prick him to shout a denial. But Feather’s friendly radiance forces him to say yes.

At the milkshake table (their table) Feather and Squirrel get on really well. Throughout their studying, they laugh and talk and it’s clear this is not just going to be a study meet. They’re friends.

Crow sighs because he can tell this is going to happen again.

After another half hour, they giver their goodbyes (a sweet wave from the actual girl, while the red-haired rat gives him a back-handed flick of the wrist). He’s not sure if it’s her cockiness that pisses him off, or if it’s the fact she’s the one going to Feather’s house instead of him.

…

They’re sharing a lunch table at school now.

Feather has her brother, Storm, with her (Crow doesn’t care about him too much but he’s alright enough) and Squirrel’s brought her sister along (she doesn’t say much but she can tell Crow recognises her, everyone knows about the straight A student since Firestar wouldn’t shut up about how she was one of the few who got perfect marks in her mock tests). Her name’s Leaf and she keeps her eyes behind the fringe of her cut short hair. It’s clear she’s only there because her sister dragged her along.

Squirrel does most of the talking for the table, which annoys Crow since she always offers her own opinion whenever he tries to ask Feather something. He doesn’t dare tell her to button it though. He would not turn into the delinquent that Squirrel likes to believe he is.

So, he keeps quiet and watches the group react to this girl.

It’s clear from Storm’s face that he thinks well of the ginger nuisance. Crow tries to hold back his vomit.

He also learns more about this girl than he cares to.

Her favourite class – Film.

Her favourite teacher – Mr Dustpelt.

Her favourite movie – The Breakfast Club (she stops to claim that Crow would make a good Bender. Crow’s never seen it, but the fact the group are laughing makes him scowl at her.)

Her favourite film studio – Disney (would have guessed)

Her favourite film movement – German expressionism (what the fuck is that)

She pulls her sister into the conversation, despite her obvious hesitance, but that only spurs Feather on. Calm, lulling and welcoming as always. It doesn’t take long before the shy girl has settled into some kind of comfort and safety as she actually begins asking the others’ questions.

“I’ve seen you on the field before! How do you do that without passing out?”

Crow feigns indifference but admittedly it’s always nice to be recognised. “Just practice and practice. It’s just like studying really.” He knows she’ll get that.

She does, letting out a small laugh. “Oh, well I could never do something like that.”

“Well that’s because you’re good at healthcare,” Squirrel nudges her, coyly smirking at Crow, “Something meaningful.”

“And just how meaningful are your little films.” Crow doesn’t hold himself back now, but he doesn’t scowl as the others share a cautious glance. Perhaps mercifully, Squirrel just flicks her ginger hair back with another throaty laugh.

“Don’t be an idiot. Everyone enjoys movies, we all have one that means something to us! Even little kids binge watching Disney films, those princesses and frogs will always be in their memories.”

Crow raises a brow, “So what are you making then?”

She wags a finger at him, “Ah ah, that’s classified.”

Leaf gives him another gentle shrug, “It’s true. She won’t even tell me what’s it’s about?”

“But if you’re interested, they’ll be airing at the end of term at the culture festival.” Crow vaguely recalls the festival where every class portrayed some kind of reflection piece, he also recalled staying far the hell away from any sign-up sheet. He wasn’t competing in some damn triathlon.

“Oh!” Feather bursts up, “That’s so cool! Could we come see it!”

Oh no no no no no!

“Of course!” Squirrel pulls out her phone and emails what Crow can only assume is an invitation. “It’s $5 for entry. But I’d say that’s not so bad!” The invitation is confirmed when his own phone beeps and he sees that Feather has forwarded it to him as well.

“I’ll be there!” Feather pipes, Storm soon follows suit. All eyes turn to Crow, Feather’s excited, Storm’s expectant, Leaf’s sheepish and Squirrel’s smug. So very smug.

He realises that if he turns this down, he’ll turn into this ginger haired director’s antagonist. For a moment he wonders if he can feign sickness on the night, but it’s a night four months away, and it will be oh so obvious what he’s avoiding.

So, he nods. And gives her this round.

…

A month later, their group has become normal. Feather’s still a complete angel, Storm seems to have realised how Crow sees his sister (if the stone cold eyes weren’t telling), Leaf’s a little more hard to get out due to her consistent studying phases but when she turns up she’s fine enough (she keeps to herself and is oddly polite whenever she speaks to him), and Squirrel is now a little less of a constant grievance.

Crow presumes it’s like one of those dark films where a person has been kept in a constant state of torture long enough that it seems almost calm now. What kind of torture punishment would she be? Crow’s stuck between waterboarding and being stuck in a basement for a month with the same terrible song on repeat.

They’re now waiting for her film class to finish so they can head to Highstones for a bite to eat (yeah waiting to be annoyed, that was what his life had come to). But he couldn’t argue. They all waited when Feather was caught up in Swimming practice and they all waited when he was running behind in the track meets.

They all had to deal with each other now.

He can hear her barking orders in some kind of movie nerd language he didn’t really get. It didn’t seem like some mindless drivel; she clearly had some idea of what she was talking about. But he still felt pity for the poor actors she was leading, lord know he wouldn’t be able to handle getting shouted at by the likes of her.

Eventually it ends though, and the director and her team exit the doors, red-faced, but shivering with excited, well-done, glee.

“Great work guys!” She yells after her waving friends; Crow recognises none of them. She points out to one short boy with curled brown hair. “Remember to work on your stunt moves, Shrew!” She hits her fist against her palm with spicy exaggeration, “We want real action, not Pinocchio caught in his strings!”

The boy presses his palms against his cheeks in mock shock. A real actor, Crow can tell. “Ouch! That hurts, ginger!” He rolls his eyes as he turns away, “I’ll knock you off your feet, next time.”

“That’s what I’m counting on!” She laughs for a moment, then finally turns to the waiting group. “Sorry to keep you guys waiting.”

“It wasn’t that long.” Stormfur says, a little too smoothly to be natural. Crow, disgusted, meets Feather’s eyes, she shrugs with a gentle chuckle.

“Are we heading over to Highstones then?” Leaf asks.

Squirrel nods her approval, but her eyes dart around the corridor for a moment, as if searching. It’s only for a moment, but when she smiles back to the group, Crow notices a slant along the natural perk of her shoulders. She hides it well.

Crow isn’t sure why he’s noticed it.

He isn’t sure why he can see her face tilt back and forth as they all walk from school to the high street. Still scanning for something unknown. Her smile stiffens and trembles as they begin to reach their destination.

Crow considers saying something, but he knows how well that would go down. Besides, it wasn’t his business. It wasn’t his concern.

By the time they’re at their table, her eyes aren’t smiling anymore. Crow can see a vague disappointment.

He says nothing about it.

But he does pay closer attention to her. Especially when she doesn’t have the energy to make quips at his expense today.

Crow wonders if he’s worried. Then brushes away the thought like dirt.

…

It’s next week when Crow sees Squirrel get angry for the first time.

It is approaching the end of the lunch period, and the four are leaving their newly established table when Squirrel’s head perks up.

Approaching them is a boy. A tank of a boy at that. If this guy wasn’t part of the football team, Crow was sure that the teachers were begging him to join. A golden ‘T’ badge is clipped to his bag. Clearly this guy was well thought of in the Thunder department.

He must stand a good foot over Squirrel, but he smiles at her, not really looking down. “Hey.”

Squirrel straightens her posture, her eyes half closing, “Oh, hey Bramble. How’s everything?”

“Can’t complain. Your dad’s giving me ear-ache though.”

“Heh. That’s a surprise.”

“Yeah. So, he wanted me to ask you when you’ll be home? I’ve got a meeting with him about the sports faculty later so I just thought I could tell him then.”

He doesn’t sound patronising, but Squirrel still coils back in offence. Her hair sways as she groans to the side. “Ugh! What? Does he not want me studying?”

Bramble raises a brow, “I’m pretty sure that’s what he’s worried about.”

“Um, excuse me.” A polite but firm voice steps in. All eyes turn to Feather. “Hi, I’m Feather. I’m the one who’s tutoring Squirrel for math, and you can tell Firestar that she really is working hard!”

Bramble’s eyes widen, and Crow can see the surprise. His gape stands while he marinates on his words. “Oh, really? Um, sure. I’ll let him know.”

“You don’t need to let him know.” Squirrel says under her breath, her emerald orbs losing the shine they’d had before. “I’m working on it, I just have other things to work on as well.”

As if snapping his fingers, Bramble’s chestnut hair whips up with realisation that makes Squirrel’s face fall. “Oh right, the film thing!” He clearly doesn’t catch when Squirrel winces. “How’s that going for you?”

Squirrel takes a breath that is too fragile to lay her exasperation. “Well-”

“Bramble!” A sharp voice cuts in. Another tank of a lad comes over. Not as warm as his predecessor. He stands taller than Bramble, more defined and muscled as well. His hair is the same colour, but it looks darker above the icy blue of his eyes. He looks over the group absently, it only takes that brief second for Squirrel to blast him with a look gleaming with hate, before he truly fixes his attention on Bramble. “Are we heading out? We’ve got to train for tonight, remember?”

Bramble’s lips thin, but he nods. “Yeah, I know Hawk. I’m coming.”

‘Hawk’ doesn’t move away, he stands there, dull impatience creasing his lips into a frown.

He might have looked bad if it weren’t for the storm taking place on Squirrel’s face.

Bramble turns, offering the group a generous apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’ve got to get going.”

“So, he said.” Storm chimes in, trying to lift the chill that has clearly overcome them all.

Only Bramble and Feather laugh, both equally weak.

“Yeah. I’ll see you later though. Oh, and I’ll make sure to let your father know to expect you late.” Bramble says that over the shoulder gripped by his mysterious accomplice.

Squirrel flushes with a spark of frustration and anger but once again, the ice thin polite voice of Bramble beats her voice. But he isn’t talking to her.

“Oh yeah! Leaf! Congratulations on getting first in the state Healthcare exams!” He chirps, casting her a swift thumbs up.

Leaf’s eyes widen, and her eyes slide from side to side nervously. It’s like it wasn’t a compliment she received, rather an arrest warrant. “Oh, uh, thank you.” Crow has heard her enough to know when she sounds genuine rather than hollow.

Then he follows where her hopeless look lands. And it becomes clearer.

“It’s all that keeps Firestar in a good mood these days!” Bramble chuckles, “So, thanks for making my life a little easier.”

“You’re welcome.” Leaf nods her head in a way that should share a joke, but her tight voice is almost a plead for him to go away.

Now Feather notices it as well, placing a gentle hand on the shaking shoulder.

The brown-haired boy is finally pulled out of the cafeteria by his growling friend. In his wake, a group of friends are left, all anxiously glancing at their tight-fisted, clenched-jawed, unmistakably gutted friend.

“Squirrel.” Leaf starts gently, her tone carrying something the others cannot peg.

Her sister brushes a stray ginger lock out of her eye and starts forward. “Let’s just go.” She doesn’t wait for another word of concern. She doesn’t even say anything until they reach the milkshake bar.

Well, more she doesn’t start yelling until they’re there.

“Piece of shit!” Squirrel bursts, chewing on the end of her straw. Her emerald eyes are now balls of green fire. She would more than definitely be making a scene if the place wasn’t at full capacity. “That pompous, know-it-all meathead!”

Crow’s sure that’s an oxymoron but he keeps his mouth shut for concerns of having his head snapped off.

“’Am I studying?’ The freakin’ nerve of that idiot! How’s it his business?”

“He was just asking for Dad.” Leaf says carefully, she’s been trying to calm her sister down since they got there. It hasn’t worked.

“Then he needs to mind his business as well!”

“He’s just worried.”

Squirrel’s eyes narrow into viper like slits, “He doesn’t need to be. I’m doing fine.” She leans onto a palm, her head sinking into her hood.

There’s something troubled on Leaf’s face as she turns away slightly. It’s clear to Crow that there may be a reason that Firestar is worried about his loudmouth daughter. But the dark-haired girl is smart enough to not say anything.

Crow sits there, half-lidded, pretending not to listen, and inwardly groaning every time Storm tries to bark some sugary compliments to the angry girl across from them. It does give him some mild pleasure to see the disappointment on his face when he realises that Squirrel clearly isn’t listening to him.

Still, it was aggravating to see the girl so damn moody. Crow wasn’t so sure why, but seeing her so clearly pissed made him pissed as well, the kind that makes your stomach shift and your breathing heavy.

Luckily, he’s able to get away from that when Feather returns from her assumed break to the toilet carrying back three milkshakes. She slaps them down in front of him and Storm, before sliding into the seat beside him, beaming.

Crow’s cheeks cruelly heat up. “Oh, come on, you didn’t have to-”

“It’s fine!” She pipes, gesturing to the drink before him. “You have to try this! It’s new here and I think it’s one of the best things I’ve tasted in freakin’ years!” Her eyes sparkle and her silver hair swirls in the excited movements of her head.

He sucks on the straw and a deep twist of caramel and honeycomb exploded on his tongue, coating him with a sweetness that could only be equal to Feather. It might be too sharp for his taste personally, but he smiles at her, relishing the fireworks that go off in her eyes.

“Told you so!” She exclaims.

“It’s a little too sweet for me.” Storm says. Off of Feather’s look, he quickly adds, “But it’s still really good!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you guys one.” Feather said, shyly looking to the two sisters across the table. “But you guys had already got yours so-”

“Oh no, it’s fine!” Leaf sooths. Squirrel only makes a passive murmur as she scans a page of crudely drawn diagrams.

“Thanks Feather,” Crow blurts out. The words feel like a tongue twister to Crow, embarrassment and hesitant glee melting in his mouth.

Her blue eyes light up again, and her hand pats a spot on his shoulder that instantly tingles. “No need. Next time it’s on you though.”

Crow manages to let out a laugh. It was easy when he was entranced in her happiness.

…

It’s two weeks later, and Squirrel isn’t at the lunch table.

“She’s filming with her group today.” Leaf says. Crow wants to take this moment to relish for the opportunity at a little silence, but Feather looks worried.

“Is she okay?”

“I think she is. Why?” It seems that Leaf does know why but doesn’t want to be a bad sister who spills secrets. It might have worked, but she was a terrible liar.

“Whenever she studies with me now, she looks stressed.”

“Isn’t stress another word for studying.” Crow jokes. He hopes to get a smile from Feather, but her worry keeps her mouth turned down.

“Well, how is she doing study-wise, anyway?” Storm asks.

“She’s definitely improving.” Feather considers, delicate fingers rubbing her neck. “But she was doing well enough before, in my opinion, and she wasn’t so…” She sighs. “I don’t know, I just thought that something might be bothering her.”

Crow’s frown tightens, he hates seeing Feather worried. He sighs, long and tight, “Maybe she’s just worked up about her film? She never tells us how it’s going. Maybe she’s behind schedule on something.” He’s grasping at straws but he’s trying his best.

Storm murmurs a sound of agreement but neither Feather nor Leaf give him a reaction that says they’re reassured.

“Maybe.” Feather twirls a silver lock in her hand.

“You don’t need to worry about it, sis.” Storm remarks, offering her one of the fries on his plate. “You’ve said she’s doing fine; she’s probably just worried about getting the grades. Like all of us!” He laughs. “It can’t be easy studying when you’ve got a department head at home breathing down your neck.”

Leaf quivers in her seat, the salad leaf on her fork trembles off and falls to the floor.

Everyone notices and now not even Storm is smiling.

“Leaf?” Feather probes gently.

The girl looks up, then down, then up again and swallows hard. “For the love of God, please don’t ever say anything like that to her.” She sounds as dry as sandpaper.

Storm’s jaw loosens then shuts with a clip. Nobody says anything about it, as if mentioning it further would call forth bloody Mapleshade herself.

But the thought is there in Crow’s head, remaining like a scorpion in his skull. Not because he truly understands what the issue is, he is not psychic. But-

It can’t be easy studying when you’ve got a department head at home breathing down your neck.

He wishes he didn’t, but he gets that.

In more ways than the others could understand. Certainly more than he would ever tell them.

He feels sick now. He actually sympathises for that ginger brat.

…

Crow is surprised when he finds her studying at their table the next day. Studying Math to say the least? It’s early in the break and the others will be on their way soon. For now though, it’s just him and the girl biting the end of her pencil with a scowl.

“Having trouble?” He smirks, sitting across from her.

“Piss off.” She growls but doesn’t look up. Her freckles look like small stains underneath the shadow of her fringe. Another frustrated groan leaves her lips as she scribbles out what looks like an angle diagram on her sheet.

Crow obliges her mood and pulls out his phone. After a series of three more grunts and four rips of paper being ruthlessly scratched, he gives in. He already knows he’ll regret it.

“If you don’t get it, just wait for Feather to get here.”

Her green meets his blue, her irises twitch like hungry fangs. “I’m just fine on my own, thank you.” She finishes poisonously, dimming back into her work while obviously trying to avoid his gaze.

Crow looks away, “Whatever, just don’t ask me for a sharpener when you’ve killed that pencil.”

Her hand makes an exaggerated line on the page, “I’ve got my own. I need it to be nice and sharp when I stick it in your eye.”

Unconsciously and conceitedly, he snickers. “If only your Math was as good as your comebacks.”

Now she is really glaring at him like she wants his head to erupt into flames. The hand gripping the pencil turns white and Crow actually wonders if she is straining from jabbing the instrument into his retina.

Instead, she hisses through clenched teeth and bores down to her scribbles of failed solutions.

This round goes Crow’s way.

There’s a twitch to her lips that makes him wish it hadn’t.

To hide his awkwardness, Crow makes sure his focus is on his phone before he speaks. “I don’t get why you’re so worried. Feather told us all you were doing just fine. It just looks like you’re worrying over nothing.”

He means to be (somewhat) nice, but Squirrel only shakes her head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who said it. What’s the problem, she said you were doing good? Newsflash.” His hands stretch out dramatically, “That’s a good thing.”

She’s clearly multi-tasking with ignoring him and realising she doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing. Her free hand digs into her head, strands of soft hair fleeting through the cracks. “It’s not good enough for me!” She hisses.

“Why? Did you get an F in your last exam or something?” He teases, though part of him braces for the possibility that that was the truth.

It wasn’t. “B-”

Crow’s mouth hung partway open while he blinked slowly a few times. “So, what the heck are you worked up over?” A B-? Crow used to get a trip to Purd E Cheese when that happened to him!

The pencil is dropped and lies still as she directs a stony gaze at him. There is no trace of animosity or bite, just plain out exhaustion. A dull emerald bore into him. “Different house, different expectations. I’d be happy getting a second in one of your little track meets.” She leans forward, a finger tap-tapping on the notes below her. “Would you?”

Damn. That makes Crow’s mouth feel like it’s full of glue.

He keeps quiet as he imagines the idea of not coming first in track. The shadows that would appear before him.

Point made, she slinks back, and they don’t talk. Either embarrassment or anger keeps them in this icy space. She still audibly struggles with the work, looking more and more drained by the minute.

Finally, she sets the notes down with a defeated grimace. “I’m getting a drink.” She says tonelessly, hands hidden in the deep pockets of her coat.

Crow doesn’t move, but his eyes fall on the abandoned notes, or scribbles, or whatever they were and were not meant to be.

He considers. Glancing back at the worthless news feed on his phone, then at the girl sulking in the line to the bar.

The shadow comes back to his mind. And then he sighs and relents.

She understandably isn’t happy when she finds him on her side of the table, scanning through the notes she was actually embarrassed about. She’s on the cusp of snatching her humiliation away from him when he says in a stoic voice. “You’re using the wrong formulae.”

She glowers, but she doesn’t argue. “What?”

He taps the page, “You’re using the theorem for binomial series here, you should be using the arithmetic series.” Off of her clueless expression, his brow raises. “Have you gone through this with Feather yet?” He doesn’t imagine she’d make that kind of mistake.

Squirrel blushes. She actually blushes, and it’s clear this was unknown territory for her. Crow stifles a chuckle while she crosses her arms and turns away. “I don’t remember any of that.”

By God, being nice to this girl could be a chore. Crow exhaled, “Come on, I’ll show you.”

“I don’t need your help.” She bites, still not looking at him.

Crow’s about to lash, but he bites his tongue, considering his words. “I’m not helping you. I’m just studying for myself.”

She gives him a half-lidded, uninspired glance. “Of course.”

“Just shut up and sit down.”

She doesn’t shut up, her mouth is full of questions (which he guesses is fair enough, least she’s actually trying) but she does sit down next to him and listen as he goes over the formulae. To be very fair, she’s a quick study and once she knows the right theorem it takes her half a minute to get the question done.

When they’re done and Crow rises to go back at his own seat, he winces as his arm feels her fist again. He’s about to snap when she looks up, and Crow has enough reasonable certainty to see the lightness in her eyes. Her smile is about as slippery as an eel, but it’s a smile nonetheless.

She wouldn’t be smiling if she was mad. He knew that much about her.

A punch was a strange, annoying way to thank someone. But he supposed that fit her rather well.

When the others finally arrive, they’re too focused on returning to their original seats, shouting that it wasn’t what it looked like, that they don’t notice the brief sadness coating the eyes of Feather and Storm.

…

It’s next week when the siblings finally tell their friends.

Squirrel, unsure, like the rest of them, of what to say, keeps her voice whispered. “What do you mean you’re running away?” She leans across the table so they can hear her over the din of the bar’s patrons.

Feather and Storm sit side by side, both equally unhappy, looking down at nothing but a stained and chipped table. “It means what it means.” Storm says, breaking off a piece of his chocolate bar. He nibbles on the ridge.

Crow feels like he cannot move, his mind thumps and crashes like it’s being pummelled by a heavyweight boxer, but he barely manages to speak. “Why?”

Feather holds her head up with a hand, tired, but encompassing all the strength she has left. “Our parents decided on the divorce terms.”

Crow tenses, he remembers hearing how shaky things were at their home. They used to make jokes out of how they couldn’t get sleep because of their parents screaming. Neither had looked perturbed, so he hadn’t thought much of it.

“Joint custody?” Leaf anticipates wearily.

Storm shakes his head, “We fucking wish. Our mom wants Feather to move out with her at the end of term, I’m meant to stay here with my dad.” His fist clenches, “No way that’s happening.”

Crow looks from him to his sister, they’ve both clearly made up their minds. They would not be separated.

He wants to admire them, but he can’t help how his chest stings.

“So what will you do then?” Squirrel asks.

“We have some family that live down in River County, once the term ends, we’re heading down there.” Feather’s voice shakes as she explains. It must have been a plan they perfected over the week but saying it out loud is a completely different ballpark.

“That’s just two months away.” Squirrel muses out loud, for once her voice doesn’t carry any kind of bite. Her eyes widen like a puppy being abandoned by its family.

“Our folks down there need to prepare for us arriving.” Storm sniffs, he gives his sister a small sideways look. “Plus, we need to decide what to take with us.”

It really was a plan they had thought hard about.

Two months to plan.

Two months until Crow would never see Feather and her glowing smile again.

He feels like he knows he should say something. Just a small wish of good luck, a nod of acceptance, and buried deep he knows he should reveal what he’s always wanted to say to Feather.

But what did that matter? She’d be gone soon.

There was no point at all.

So while Squirrel and Leaf speak about how much they’ll miss them, and while Feather and Storm apologise and thank them for understanding, Crow continues to stare and stay silent, making a case to look away from those tender eyes so desperately trying to reach his.

If he was going to lose them soon, why should he even try?

…

For the next two weeks, he spends most of his time on the track, practicing. Preparing for the final track meet before summer.

His mother is pleased, but obviously perplexed. Her son was just naturally gifted when it came to the field, he never trained more than every three days usually, now he was there most days from five till nine, just running again and again. Lap after lap. She makes sure to tell him to not overwork himself, but it doesn’t look like he’s listening. Even when she gives him the death stare that usually sent him to bed without a second thought, as a child, he just turns his head, drinks some water and gets back to the track.

She doesn’t know what it’s about.

She doesn’t know what’s he running from.

He runs until he can feel his muscles sting and his head goes blurry, that way he goes home focused on something else. He can’t focus on them. No point gripping to something that would soon let you fall.

He saw them appear once. Looking for him. No doubt wanting to question him about why he’s never at their table, at school and the bar, anymore. Storm looked pissed for reasons Crow didn’t care to know, Leaf was holding back a furious eyed Squirrel from storming up to him and screaming in his face, and Feather just looked sad.

Incredibly, shamefully sad.

He knows to turn back to the track again when he wants to go over and hug her.

So once again, he’s running, hiding and forcing them out. Reluctantly, one by one, they seem to get the hint, walking away from the field. Crow couldn’t help but watch to see if any of them looked back.

Only one person did.

Her green eyes were in a tight scowl, rigid with scorn. They lock on Crow’s sweating, pounding face for a moment. Then she shakes her head, slowly, at him, and leaves him there.

They don’t return for the next week. Crow is left running, burning, and aching on his own.

So, there’s nobody there when one day on the track, the muscles in his blazing ankle finally give in on him. It happens within the intake of a breath. For a suspended second, his foot hovers above the air, then hits the ground and fire chokes his tendon. He falls like a fat sack of flour, too amazed by the overwhelming pain to even utter a whimper. He tries to stand but falls on one knee with every attempt. He has to crawl to his bag to get his phone and call his mother to rush over from her office. Nobody else is there.

There are no tears running down his face, no sobs or moans creasing his throat, as he limps with one arm on his mother’s shoulder he just feels a deep, pulsing emptiness, a drainage in his gut that he feels could swallow him whole and he wouldn’t even complain.

…

It’s just a strained tendon, is what Dr Bark says; just two months taking it easy off the right foot; just one track meet, the final one, that Crow will have to miss.

Dr Bark actually had some relief to his voice when he explained it. Apparently, Crow is lucky that it’s not as bad as it could have been. You could have ruptured the tendon. Then you’d really be in trouble.

Crow does not feel lucky.

He is not glad that his time sitting on the bleachers, watching his teammates actually able to compete for once, will last just a little less than it could have.

He was still on the side-lines. His right ankle wrapped in a flurry of bandages that throttled his skin like a thick mess of barbed wire. He doesn’t need a crutch, but the weight of the bandages, as well as the thin cast stiffening his foot, makes him limp.

He knows, every time he passes a face, where the eyes will fall.

All pathetic pity. All the more knives that dig into Crow’s back.

They’re everywhere, Crow feels them, the thin smiles, the smouldering eyes, the low whispers, all of their bitter empathy. They stared at him as if he was some kind of invalid instead of the track champion for the past year.

All of those stupid get well soon cards his mother had gathered from his team-mates, he’d hidden under the bottom drawer of his cupboard. He knew what they really thought, they relished this, he would have. Now they had the chance to shine above him for once; hell, he wouldn’t even be considered. And yet, his mother thought it would be a good for him to turn up for the final race, just to show support for his team.

As if.

He spends the next week wandering, anywhere really, just so he can avoid those pathetic stares. Whether it was in the corner of the library or needlessly searching the computers of a barren class, he made sure that whatever free time he had, he spent it alone.

He’d rather be a shadow than a crack on the wall.

Unfortunately, some couldn’t seem to take the hint.

Thankfully, he’s able to avoid them. But his phone is a non-stop traffic jam of messages. He only gave his number to one of them.

Every single time, his finger lingers over the block button. It would make it so much easier; he’s practically blocked her in real life after all. But the messages, desperate, pleading, keep coming and coming like fingers digging into his shoulders. I hope you’re okay. We’re here if you want to talk. Please, Crow. I’m worried about you. Please! I’m sorry! Can you please call me back? … Call me if you want to?

Crow stares as they flood his phone, his finger still shaking over the words as he imagines them all in her voice; her trembling, hopeless voice that he hated to picture.

His arm limply falls every time, and the messages continue.

He knows he’s being unfair. He knows she’s hurting more because of him.

But he can’t do anything but sulk.

Unlike his father, he’s never had the guts.

…

“Hey!”

Crow cringes as the book falls from his hands. He hears the furious shushing of the librarian and the quiet ‘sorry’ the girl responds with. He pushes the weight into his swollen ankle, ready to get out of the library as soon as possible. He can’t be bothered to deal with her now.

But a hand, heavy and determined, forces him down into his seat, and she is there beside him. As furious as always. He remains impassive, undisturbed. He can’t lose his cool now.

“What do you want?”

“That’s a nice way to greet your friends!” She scoffs.

“We’re not friends.” Crow returns himself to his book, anything but her.

“Yeah?” The book burns his hands as she snatches it away, forcing him to glare at her. “Well I’m the closest thing you have to one right now! And that’s your own damn fault!”

She follows him past the snarling librarian and out into the courtyard. Crow grit his teeth, wishing he could limp any faster. The early rays of summer make the fabric feel like a constrictor around his ankle.

“Stop following me!”

“Didn’t you say you could run rings around me?”

“Fuck off.”

She doesn’t. She walks on, clutching her bag over her shoulder, never leaving his side.

“I know she’s messaged you.”

Crow tenses. “So what?”

“So why don’t you quit ignoring her, you asshole; what’s your deal?” She asks, as stabbing as possible without even realising it.

“None of your business!”

She makes a scoffing sound that is ripe with astonished disgust, “Uh, when my friend is crying because of you ghosting us all, I think it is.”

It’s only for a moment, but Crow’s pace slows. The image of her tear-stricken face flashes in blue luminance. His chest suddenly aches terribly. But he tosses it away, still storming off, his foot now stinging from his increasing speed. If he doesn’t get rid of this pest soon, he knows he’ll either have to stop from the pain or will fall down himself.

So, he lies. “So what?” He hisses as if she’s nothing but dirt on his shoulder. “Why the fuck should I care about her?”

Crow doesn’t know what he expects. Her to stop out of shock? Her to storm off with fire in her belly? Maybe her jumping on him with blazing fury?

He doesn’t expect the small, cold laugh. Or the words that leave her mouth. “Because it’s clear that you like her.”

Now he truly does stop. His burning foot sets like a stone he could never lift up. She stops right beside him, a thin gaze cutting into him. His head rolls up with a hollow exhale.

“What makes you say that?”

She snorts. “From what I’ve seen,” She responds, “She’s the only one who you ever smile at.”

Ouch. Crow would like to think he didn’t know why that hurt as much as it did.

The boy notices how heavy his steps had become. He sat down on the edge of the fountain in the courtyard, the nearest place, soon joined by his ginger accomplice. The boy shifts himself about so that he can face her directly without having to turn his head, now with his arms resting on his knees. But he waits for her to inevitably speak first.

Eventually, after what seems like a lifetime of her cold stare, she sighs herself, her ginger locks glistening as the sunlight flashes between the water and her hair. “Why do you have to be such a moron?”

He briefly wonders if she’s talking about his attitude or his foot. He now secretly considers the idea that he may be a bit of a moron.

“She misses you.” The girl says.

A month ago, he would have been overjoyed to hear those words. Now, in the face of an outcome he wants to abandon, it just leaves a terrible pain.

“Great.” He responds, hollow.

“No, it’s not.” She declares with a frown. “What the hell are you trying to prove by ignoring her? You think that’s going to make her stay?”

Crow stares for a moment, then his eyes dip. Admittedly, that was a good question. What was he trying to prove? Nothing really. He just didn’t want to say goodbye.

“Won’t you miss her?” He asks.

“Of course I will!” Squirrel says, letting a hint of anger bleed out of her assurance. “That’s why I’m trying to spend, you know, actual time with her before she goes!”

His eyes narrow. “But she’s leaving.” He finds himself saying aloud.

“She hasn’t yet.” Squirrel says plainly, like she knows she’s in the right and is tired of trying to explain it to the incarnation of self-pitying foolishness sat next to her.

Christ. Were those actually his own thoughts…

Shit…of course they were.

This girl was a pest of many variations, but that didn’t stop her from pointing out the obvious.

The truth that he’s been trying to flee.

His neck cranes forward again, staring at his feet. The pain in his foot has dimmed, leaving a tingling, but blank, pulse around his injury. “I don’t want her to go.” He admits, finding it easier when he doesn’t look at her.

Amazingly, she doesn’t say anything for a moment. Predictably, but deservedly, though she sniffs. “Neither do I. But moping around feeling sorry for yourself like some emo isn’t helping anyone!” Her voice punches him. “It’s not like she’s looking forward to leaving as well. But what else can she do? Her and Stormfur don’t want to be dragged apart because of their parents’ bullshit. You can understand that can’t you?”

He does. But it does not mean he likes it?

But then again, neither does she probably.

His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose as it begins to sink in just how in the wrong he is? Is it too late to drown himself in the pool? He doesn’t know how long he can take her vindicated glare.

“I guess.” He admits, dragging his voice like a corpse.

It’s not enough to sate the girl. “You guess.” She snorts, “You know there are better ways of saying you fucked up.”

He leans back, crossing his arms, remaining stupidly silent.

Her mouth creases down, her eyes sliding away from him. “Whatever. So, you going to apologise to her then, or are you just wanting to sit here remaining a jackass?”

“What good what it do?”

“What? You being a jackass? Not much.” She smirks when he growls at her. “What the hell do you mean? ‘What good?’ Does it really matter? It’s just apologising so you can hang out with her again, dumbass.”

His mouth sharpens to swing another sword of insults, then it dulls as the thought lingers. Hanging out with her again. There is some dark, small voice buried somewhere that reminds him how much he wants that.

Tilting forward, his voice is softer than he thought possible. “But she’s going to leave. What does it matter?”

That’s what happened to him. People were here, then they went, and Crow was left missing them. That was his life; the kind of bad joke you would find in a Christmas cracker.

He hears something rough start up like a boxer stepping into the ring, before a dry sigh follows. Something bumps against his arm, but it doesn’t hurt, it just gets his attention. She’s still there, sat beside him, relaxed, her eyes still sharp, but her mouth is curved into something flat and unjudging.

“If we’re going to miss her either way,” Squirrel says, far too smooth to be recognisable. “We might as well make up the time we’ve got left with her.” She adjusts herself in the cold, yet comfortable way that only she could. “Look, she misses you, man. Just come to the bar and talk to her.”

It’s so gentle there might as well be the ‘please’ on the end that she refuses to say.

She’s keeping a little bit of her pride.

Crow can admire that much; he’d be a hypocrite otherwise.

His own pride wants him to scoff and turn away from her, carrying on the same way he always has. His pride has always been the leader ahead of his brain.

But something’s catching up in that race.

Something that makes Crow stumble up, silently resigning himself to what he truly wants. He doesn’t wait for the clearly surprised girl to stand as well. She’d catch up soon enough. And she does. Crow half expects her to take a clear lead, walking backwards, grinning at his expense as he plods along like a fallen soldier.

Instead, she walks beside him, never taking a lead and slowing down when he needs to. He must have been going crazy; he almost swore he saw her hand reach out to steady him whenever he slightly stumbled. She looks away whenever he glances to see.

Hazily, he changes the subject.

“She really missed me?”

“Yep.” She snaps her jaw, beside him he can see the conceited sneer grow on her face. “God knows why? It was beginning to get peaceful without your miserable ass.”

The quiet part of him softens, pleased and guilty by the clarification.

The loud part of him is wounded by the insult.

“Oh really?” He scoffs; same old bitch she usually was. “Then why are you here?”

Her emerald eyes open halfway, a thin line across her mouth. “Feather was too scared you were mad at her, and Storm pretty much hates you.” She shrugs, “No one else would give you time.”

“Right.” He scoffs, nudging her with a force that’s halfway between play and pain. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“You should be grateful that I will.” Her teeth gleam in the sunlight. “Otherwise, you’d be limping your sorry ass back to crying in your room again.”

He rolls his eyes, annoyed that he’s gifted her another point. “Prick.”

She gently nudges him along. “Love ya too.

…

Every chemical in his brain is sparking. The thoughts rising up in a thousand screams that demand him to turn around.

At the door to the bar, the flashing neon lights seem to hurt when they meet his eyes.

Get out of here. They roar in flashing cries. She’ll never forgive you.

A hand softly pushes him on.

They’re all at the table. Their table. Her beside her brother, upset and anxious. Leaf on the other side, awkwardly trying to raise broken spirits. The empty seats make their space look lonely. Or maybe it’s for the best.

They’re better off without you. Just like you’re better off without them.

Squirrel raises a hand, calling over. They all turn to face the pair.

Crow wonders where their eyes linger, what they all hold.

You know where they’re looking right. Cripple.

He swallows, trying to taste whatever they see in him. Feather’s blue orbs shimmer on him.

She just feels sorry for you. You can’t make it right.

He slowly trudges to the table. Feather rises out of her seat. Storm puts up a limp hand cautiously.

See that. He doesn’t trust you. He hates you, and he should.

Storm lets the hand fall, lets her walk slowly up to where Crow stands.

Crow begins to feel spots blinking across his eyes, she gets nearer and nearer. His cast is beginning to warm up, the heat milking over his body, he thinks he can feel himself sweating a little.

She’s only a step away, her eyes close then open with direct intention.

Crow breathes in the silence accepting the hate she’s sure to give. The hate he now knows he deserves.

Then she hugs him.

Tells him she’s glad to see him, that she was so worried after hearing about his injury, that she’s sorry for not coming to see him herself. She pulls back, holding him dearly, smiling like only she can do.

Crow breathes in and out. In and out.

She’s going to leave.

She is. And it will hurt.

But he can’t let himself see her hurt again.

So he apologises.

She accepts it.

And they all blissfully move on.

…

They only have a month left. They all know that. There are days where Feather and Storm take the time to pack and plan, careful to not alert anyone. They all realise how quickly this time will fade in the hourglass before they can never see each other again.

So they use that time wisely.

Every moment they can, they are all together. Storm picks them all up in his car, sometimes early enough that they can get breakfast together, then it’s classes, breaks, lunches, and finally getting together so they can finally put their evenings to good use.

Movie nights and pizza meals where they laugh as Squirrel overanalyses every detail.

Final study groups where they all take turns being embarrassed by Leaf’s overwhelming knowledge.

Drinks at the bar where Storm and Feather sneak drinks out to the younger members before running as security spot them (those are Squirrel’s favourite nights apparently).

Sessions at the karaoke place – Crow refuses to take part for a while, watching as Feather sings Beyonce like an angel and Squirrel (admittedly perfectly) spits out every rap song from Hamilton. He eventually gives in when the bar added songs by The Strokes to the list and nobody else knew who they were; it was time to teach them about real music.

But even before that, Crow knows that, for the first time in years, he’s truly having fun.

Because when they’re together, laughing, not out of any mocking reverence, but true laughter, and he sees her smile in the way he loves, everything feels right. Perfect.

There is a part of him that stings, like a thorn twisted in his arm, at the thought that these days are slipping and fading through their fun, growing closer to the separation that rains on them all.

But for those smiling moments, he doesn’t care.

Because it’s only those moments he should ever care about.

…

“You’re coming, right?” She asks.

She’s sat beside him as they watch the final track race of the year from the bleachers. They all talked him into seeing it. Sure, he still had another week before his cast would come off, so of course he was side-lined, but it gave them all some more time to kill. Plus, apparently Storm was friends with some guy on the team (Crow pretended he recognised the name) so if Crow didn’t go, he’d be on his own.

Reluctantly, he’d acknowledged his pride wasn’t worth the bullshit of that.

So they all sat there (except for Leaf who was helping her friend Moth study), buried in the small crowd, wrapped up against the cold air (he’d never realised how cold these nights were when he wasn’t pumping air and blood throughout his body) watching the team actually compete for once.

They are all in the fourth lap when she asks.

“What do you mean?” He asks, stiffly looking ahead. He’s only playing, but there’s something different in the brief glimpse he can make of her. Her mouth is coiled into a frown that doesn’t look right. He lets the game go early. “Oh, the premiere? Yeah, sure. I’ve got time to kill.”

“It’s not killing time,” She scoffs, pulling the gloves from her hands to click her fingers. “It’ll be making it.”

“Is that a promise, or will I get a refund in the inevitable chance it flops?”

She tries hard to look angry at him, but there’s something twitching her mouth upwards. “Nope. You turn up, that money’s ours.”

The team ascends into the fifth lap and Crow scoffs, spotting that half of them are clearly running out of energy, they’d all drop before they got a winner. “It better be Oscar worthy then?”

The gloves slip gracefully back onto her hands. “You shouldn’t expect anything less.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great!” Feather coos from the other side of Squirrel. “You’ve converted it for me, haven’t you?”

“Naturally!” Squirrel promises. Feather and Storm will be able to attend the premiere, but the girl had begged Squirrel to burn the movie onto a disc for her. A parting gift. Feather spoke like it was already a masterpiece instead of a secret project none of them knew about.

“Sick! I can’t wait!”

“Well, you’ll have to. Just two more days.” Squirrel says, her dark ginger hair flares up as the light of her phone screen brightens on her face.

Just two more days before the film. A day later, their group decreases.

Crow sips down his coffee, the bitter taste mercifully numbing his thoughts.

“Come on, lad! You can do it!” Storm’s grunts resonate.

Crow watches as his (kind of) friend’s friend sprints near the front, sweating and panting in ways Crow could never do this early on. He keeps that to himself. “He needs to slow down a little.”

“Slow down in a race?” Storm’s tone is enough to scratch Crow with a stare. “Great idea.”

“Yeah, I know, numb-nuts.” Crow bites back, “Because if he doesn’t, he’s going to fall worse than I did.”

“There’s still like ten laps to go.”

“All the more reason to take his time. From the looks of it, he’ll be able to walk past a track of dead bodies if he holds back compared to the rest.”

“This is the team you were part of, right?” Storm’s leer prick from an eye corner, “Do you have a nice word to say about anyone?”

Crow gives him a look.

“Never mind.” Storm retreats, his sigh steaming in the cold.

“I don’t know,” Feather grins, “You might actually have a challenge when you’re back on the field, Crow.” Her voice is a tender prod that makes both her brother and Crow smirk.

“Oh, I’m shaking.” They all find themselves laughing.

Almost all of them.

Only Crow notices, but he doesn’t try to look like he does. Squirrel is staring at her phone screen, a dull look burrowing into a series of messages Crow can’t get a good look at before she buries the phone away.

Then she gets back to smiling. In that filtered, artificial way that Crow has begun to perceive with weak malaise.

…

Something is definitely wrong, Crow identifies.

The whole group had been able to get front row seats. Surprisingly, the film team made the hall look really damn impressive. The Home Ec class had sent a section of their team to cater at the front of the hall, and the whole room was pungent with the airy tang of buttered popcorn and hot dogs.

At least sixty chairs had been set up around the room, and each one was occupied, probably mostly by friends or family members, but hey, they all paid. Plus, another twenty people were stood at the back of the room, also eagerly awaiting. Crow sees Squirrel’s parents among them, both holding bright, jubilant smiles as they await for the introduction by the film team.

Crow remembers the way Squirrel felt when they were studying, the pressure on her shoulders.

Surely her father’s excited face would make her know that there were some who believed in her.

Crow doesn’t wonder anymore why that satisfies him.

It had been a great turn out, all things considered. The kind that Squirrel had wildly mulled over all these months. The kind that she should have been proud to see.

That’s what makes it so much more troubling when she steps out with her class. The group is a sea of faces, nervous and proud, but her face sticks out. Because after her eyes glaze the room, examining every seat, her face, actually done up with a little make-up, drips into disappointment.

Her voice, high and passionate as she thanks them all for coming, is enough to trick the audience with a mockery of eagerness. But Crow finds the small tics, the breathy snaps in the joy.

His stomach curls as she walks off to her own seat at the side, the green glow of her eyes darkening to grey, her fiery hair extinguishing, as the lights fade off.

Crow almost feels guilty that it isn’t the film that takes his attention for the next hour and a half. He catches on enough: it’s some stylised action-comedy about a group of teens who rebel against their domineering teachers and take several of the worst teachers and bullies’ hostage. It goes well enough, Crow feels. The audience laugh when they’re meant to, some in deep hysterics, it’s directed fairly well, especially for a student film (how they got the permission to set a car on fire, he’ll have to ask her), the actors are genuinely really good (though that Shrew kid is certainly melodramatic when he has the chance), but it goes by.

And it’s undeniably Squirrel. Crow isn’t sure how much of a hand she had in the script, but the jokes and one-liners he knows so well (usually since they’re at his expense) fly off the screen like bullets. The scenes are energised, fast, dragging every pair of eyes like they were on the back seat of a crashing plane.

It’s all her.

And Crow finds he likes it.

Hell, Crow actually chuckles at one or two jokes, that’s something they could put on the poster.

But still, his attention is driven away, like an itch on his neck, a pinch that convulses his head sideways, towards her.

The placid line, the lacklustre stiffness that makes her expression like a plastic doll, it never leaves.

There is a screen that is literally screaming everything he knows is her, and when he looks at the flesh, he doesn’t recognise what he sees.

Not even at the end, where the cast are bowing to a room of applauding, whooping, undeniably entertained people, she fakes the smile, her eyes give her away.

Crow doesn’t understand. Not why he’s worried. Not why she’s like this. Not how he’s the only one who’s noticed. A sigh to his left proves the last thought contrary.

“Leaf?” Crow prompts her as they exit the seats. “What’s going on?”

Unlike what he’s seen on the screen, Leaf’s acting is terrible. “I-I don’t know what you mean.” She stammers, blinking three times in a second. Storm and Feather follow a group of people to the front of the room where the film team are being congratulated, they join Squirrel and her parents, helping the adults gloriously praise the director. Squirrel smiles thinly and nods her head.

“Yes, you do.” Crow presses, his eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong with Squirrel? Did something happen?”

“I’m not sure.” Leaf lies, she doesn’t meet Crow’s gaze. “Not that I know of.”

Somehow, Crow suspects Leaf is one of the few that does know about it. “Come on, cut the crap.” He snaps. “You know what it is!”

“I- No, I don’t.” She tries to join the group, but Crow gently hold her arm. She turns to him, worry filling her eyes. “Let go.”

Realising himself, he does, but he speaks quickly. “I’m sorry. Look, I just want to know what’s wrong?”

Leaf does calm down, enough that her own eyes thin on the boy. “Why?”

(She helped him get over himself)

(She told him how much he had upset Feather)

(He hates how she looks when she’s upset)

“She’s my friend.” He admits and lies, bleakly, letting go of his annoyance at how hot his face becomes. Be calm. Keep cool. It’s not that big an admission, whether they say it or not, they’ve been hanging out with each other for almost half a year now, they definitely were not just unfortunate acquaintances anymore.

However, Leaf still looks at Crow like he’s grown a second head.

But after a moment of tense silence, and a promise by Crow to not tell Squirrel who told him, she admits that Crow is right and what it is that’s upsetting his so-called friend.

It takes him a minute to remember the face that matches the name. Bramble. He does eventually remember the brown-haired jock from months ago. Apparently, he used to be Squirrel’s English tutor before Feather. Leaf says that Squirrel used to get on really well with him. Enough that their sessions on Shakespeare had begun to turn into something else. But then he had to quit as her tutor because he wanted to spend time with his half-brother.

“Hawk.” Leaf says the name like she’s chewing on wire.

Crow doesn’t see the problem until Leaf explains more. Hawk is trouble, real trouble. Leaf has met him before, since her best friend is his sister. He’s terrible to that sister, Leaf says. Terrible in ways that are conducted by threats and insults. There are rumours that he is involved in crowds that are more, and worse, that plain out teenage vandals.

Squirrel had tried to warn Bramble about him. He didn’t listen. He continued to stick with Hawk, continued to stay over the line that was growing wider between him and the girl that had clearly liked him. He had made promises to meet her, to show he wasn’t giving all his time to one person, and had failed every time.

Failed again and again.

And tonight was one of those failures.

The night that had meant the most to Squirrel, the night that Bramble had sworn to uphold in every apology he had made before, it was a night where he hadn’t shown up. It seemed it was the final straw for whatever friendship Squirrel had thought still remained with the boy.

By the end of it all, Crow understands. And, though he knows he can’t really hate someone he doesn’t know, the thought of the brown-haired boy makes Crow’s fist clench and his jaw tighten.

Crow had hated Squirrel when he first said he would turn up, and he had meant what he promised even then.

“It really upset her that much?”

Leaf looks down, letting the silence speak. “Squirrel doesn’t like anyone easily.”

“I can believe that.” Crow mutters, exhaling. He wonders why his breath steams in a room as warm as this. “Do you think he might call her?”

Leaf huffs, anger looks wrong on her features. “Oh, he will. Just not when it matters.”

“Son of a bitch.”

Leaf nods sagely, craning her head for a moment. She’s staring right over his face, like a hawk watching a mouse.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She says, turning away. “Come on, we better go see her. At least someone can be there for her.” The awkwardness between them lets up a little at that shared goal. They both hated someone who had hurt their friend. They both now wanted to cheer that friend up.

But Crow didn’t know how to do that? It sounded like Squirrel really liked this guy. He must have meant a lot to her if his absence had caused that look to cross her face. What could he possibly say?

Well, he had to say something at least.

They walk over to where she stands, still soaking in the compliments like a wet rag. “Hey.” She says simply when she finds them. Her mouth crookedly curves up. “Did you enjoy it?”

As Leaf goes on about how much she did, Crow sees everything. The attempted blushes of make-up, the smooth dress she wears so differently from her winter coat, the way her hair has been smoothed down in red shining tails. Everyone had dressed in some formal style; this was different.

She’s made such an effort.

Squirrel takes in her sister’s words with lazy nods and a weak smile. Soon enough those hazed eyes will be on him, waiting for his own words that will fall off her like dust.

Crow’s stomach dances like a maniac, internal claws poking and prodding him to think of something that won’t just pass through her like a ghost. His breath hollows in his throat, and his fingers twitch in his pockets.

He didn’t know about this kind of-

Oh shit. Yes he did. Not the same way, but it was there. Liking someone close to him, and then feeling betrayed by her actions.

But unlike him, Squirrel was innocent. Still, he got it. Of course, he did. It was her who had come to him when he was like it anyway.

Leaf finishes her tune of praise, and Squirrel doesn’t look much better. Leaf can see that, but she doesn’t say much else, just gives her sister a close hug. Maybe there are some whispers that Crow doesn’t catch. Then they separate like rain off of glass.

And those green eyes find him. Crow straightens. She rolls her eyes, not in the way Crow likes, and her brow creases. “This ought to be good.” She sighs, reserved, “Okay, put me on the chopping block.”

Against his better judgment, Crow laughs lightly. He isn’t sure why. Around the two is an endless noise of celebration; whatever light revealing them mounts the shadow of a spotlight. Their own personal staring contest, as if they were waiting for the other to say something. But no, it’s Crow who has to speak, now or never.

Someone more cunning than Crow might have figured out the perfect thing to say. But Crow wouldn’t know wits if it spat in his face.

He’s always been up-front and honest. So that’s what he is. “It was good.”

The lines on her face break as Squirrel raises a brow. “Really?”

“Yeah. You all did a good job.”

Despite the noise, it feels quiet. “Oh.” The girl purses her lips, “Thanks. I’m glad you liked it.”

It’s plain and simple, that is Crow, but that’s not her. Crow’s mouth trembles open again, his mind digging. “Um, so, that part where Anita smears paint over her teacher?”

Her head raises slightly, “Yeah?”

“Was that inspired by Tarantino?”

Squirrel snorts, “Was it that obvious?”

“Kind of.”

“Are you saying I plagiarised? There’s such a thing as influence.”

It’s not the joke, but the snappy nature that makes Crow smirk. “You want me to write that in your defence notes for the trial?”

A tight sound escapes Squirrel, her hair curls out a little from the snap of her head. “Well, at least I know I got his style right.” She mumbles.

Crow shrugs, “You got a lot of his stuff right actually? Is he one of your favourites or something?”

“Pfft! I’m still convincing my dad to let me hang his movie posters in my room to this day!” She shakes her head a little, “Excessive violence, my ass. So, what else of his ‘stuff’ do you mean I got right?”

Crow doesn’t hesitate, “The humour.”

Now, a real chortle of laughter escapes the girl. Her eyes close, then open again, spunky and full of light. “Humour? Knowing you, I’m not sure if that’s really a praise!”

Crow stiffens himself with a coy shrug, “Well, it made me laugh. Whether the scenes were meant to or not,” His teeth expose in a real grin, “That’s a different question.”

The punch lands softly on his shoulder. “Jackass!” She pipes in a voice Crow can actually recognise.

He takes the chance. “Still, I wouldn’t like to be the idiot that missed this.”

Her smile remains, like an age old painting. But there’s something questionable in her eyes, and its hard to tell if she thinks he knows anything or not. “Yeah…” Her face flickers momentarily like a dying lightbulb. The silence comes back as her head falls a little, the smell of hot dogs becoming overshadowed by the fizz of cheap soda.

Crow swallows, “They don’t know what they missed. I guess that’s their loss, right?”

Her poker face is not as good as she likes to think it is. Crow is glad it’s not. Under the lights, he sees every detail buried in the screen of her emotions. The silent stare, the drop of her face, then the slow rise of the sun, and the settled, content smile that finally looks normal.

It’s probably not the end of it. Crow knows it wasn’t even really over for him.

But for now, it’s enough. The shine of green that lingers on him proves that much.

“Damn right.”

…

Crow is sad the next night.

For one, he stands in the cold air as Storm finishes packing the small luggage into the back of his car. They had to all be on time if they wanted to make this right. Feather hugs both Squirrel and Leaf close, they’re all making wet, crying sounds.

“I promise I’ll be in touch soon!” Feather exclaims, her face must be freezing from how much the tears streak down her cheeks.

“You better!” Squirrel hold back a real sob.

In touch. Crow suspects that’s a nicer way of saying I’ll never see you again. The cast is now off of his leg and he’s able to walk surprisingly well.

But it still hurts. Everything hurts.

As the women cry, Storm wipes his hands down, walking over to Crow. His impressive build is imposing and powerful in the red headlights. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“I guess.”

One of Storm’s hands lazily finds his pocket, the other waves aimlessly in the air. “Feel free to call if you want.”

Was that a last minute effort of a truce? Crow can’t tell as Storm’s face is remarkably stony; he guessed he had to be when his sister was crying her eyes out. The dark-haired boy nods, “Sure.”

“Great. Um, good luck on the field when you get back to it.”

Crow sniffs, “I don’t need luck.”

“Cocky little shit.” There’s a rattle of humour in his response. His hand extends out. Crow takes it. They shake and part without struggle. “I’ll see you.”

“I hope not.”

As he enters the car, Storm leaves crow with a smirk on his face, and a gradual nod.

Now it’s her turn.

Linking their eyes for the final time was harder than any race Crow thought he’d ever done or do. This had been the climax he’d hated to think about for the longest time. This was it. If there was anything he wanted to say to her, he had to say it now.

He doesn’t say it.

Partly because he knows it would do neither of them any good.

Partly, and more surprisingly, because when he found those blue pools he’d adored, they didn’t pull him in like they remembered. They were just the eyes of a good friend that he needed to say goodbye to.

A good friend.

And that’s how they part, after a long, tender hug, and more promises to talk over wires and electricity. He’s have to cherish that voice in the future, he knew that much. But it’s not as hard as he imagined. They pull away from each other, her eyes wet, his eyes beginning to leak, and then she calls a final goodbye as she enters the car, not looking back.

Crow feels like he’s only blinked once, his hand still in the air, when the red eyes of the headlights fade over the road and into the darkness.

It’s just the three of them now. And it’s then that Crow realises another reason why he’s sad. The link in his friendship with these girls was gone now, they had no reason to remain friends of friends anymore. It’s certainly that way for Leaf at least as she turns off, still rubbing her eyes.

To Crow’s small, slowly realising hope, Squirrel met him for a moment. Her eyes are red and raw, but she’s keeping herself tight and composed.

“Are you going to be okay?”

Apparently, hope was like a dominatrix, a real pain lover. It was only pity that Squirrel had for him. The pity for some heartbroken sap; that was all he was. Crow looked away.

“We’re going to have to be, aren’t we?”

Squirrel exhales, her breath fogs over the creamy glow of her skin. “She’ll call.”

“I know.”

He wants to leave yet wants to stay. It’s what she thinks that makes his lips tighten. But can he blame her? For a while, it was undeniably true. Not anymore, but it was still there, she was in her right to think that.

The quiet sticks, making the air sickly and humid, until Leaf pipes up. “Squirrel, Dad just text; we need to get back soon.”

“I’m coming.”

She lingers there. Her ginger hair un-straightened and blazing. The fire begins to cool as she turns one last time to the boy. He stands there, feeling stupid for so many reasons, his stuffy throat keeping him infuriatingly silent.

Once again, he’s running away, this time while being cowardly still.

She must realise that nothing else will come, as her pitying eyes only loom over him a second more before she nods slowly – a last goodbye – and walks off with her sister.

He stands there, watching another fire go out. In the cold. Alone. Once again.

He zips up his hoodie over his mouth and walks off home. Still terribly cold.

…

It’s the first day of summer vacation. The break towards a new start, some idiots have said. All he feels is an ending.

Feather has called him like she promised. Her and Storm have made it to River County. Crow is happy for her. He thanks her like the good friend he likes to think he is and talks about track and the swim team up there before they call off with another promise to speak again.

By the time he’s finished the call, he’s made it to the milkshake bar.

He’s terribly thirsty. Terribly drained. He’s ready to sip in the sugar again, this time at a new, smaller table.

He walks in.

They’re both already there. Sat at their table, two sisters talking between themselves. Crow thinks the seats beside them look full already. This was a bad idea. He swallows down the empty air before turning.

Then he hears his name. Then a nickname.

“Hey bird-brain, we’re over here!”

The name hits him like a dart. But it’s enough for his hand to fall off of the door. When he looks over, staring, still, he waits a tense moment to see if his hopes will be kind to him for once.

She’s standing up, her winter coat shaking gleefully in the summer air conditioning, not caring a bit as other patrons look her way. He doesn’t care either. Her hand waves frantically, “You still having trouble walking? Get over here, dumbass!”

Her sister scolds her volume and language. Squirrel laughs, pitchy and playful, then calls for the boy to come over again, exaggeratedly patting the seat next to her.

Crow doesn’t hesitate to take it.

“I would have called you, but,” She shrugs, “Turns out I don’t have your number. So, I got you this, just in case.” She pulls a shake up from next to her knee and holds it out to the boy.

Crow, like he did a while ago, blushes fervently, “Is this some kind of extortion scam?” He says, smiling, pulling out his wallet.

She smacks his hands down, “No, it’s a milkshake. This round’s on me!”

“What is it?”

“Try it and see.” There’s a glint in her eyes Crow finds charming and worrying all at once. He tries to see if Leaf knows if he’s about to be poisoned or not. The girl just smiles and shakes her head unknowingly.

He knows the chances that he’ll regret this far outweigh the chance that this will be something he’ll enjoy. He wouldn’t expect anything less from this girl. Yet he still grins as he gratefully takes and tastes the drink.

His face twists. Gleefully. Banana, cream and caramel leaps over his tongue, forcing a tidal wave of pleasure down his throat. They surge around his taste buds like a thousand fire-crackers.

It isn’t too sweet either.

It’s as sweet as the syllables of a name that feels warm in his mouth.

Just perfect.

His expression is clearly enough. “Thank God for that.” Leaf sighs.

“See! I told ya I had good taste, Leafy!” Squirrel punches him lightly on the arm and Crow thinks nothing of it. The girl may be infuriating, but she’s also remarkable.

But, he wouldn’t give her the round that easily.

He sets the drink back down on their table, flicking the girl’s ear. “If this makes up most of your taste, little bushy-tailed rat, that smirk of yours will go black.”

For now though, her smile is a beautiful, a really beautiful, white. “Laugh all you want, just know that whenever you get that in the future, I’ll be wanting an interest rate from you.” Her hand lands on his back, and it doesn’t leave. “How’s fifty percent sound?”

“How about I tip fifty percent of this over your head?”

“As long as you pay me, I don’t care.”

And they all laughed.

…

#human warriors au #human warrior cats #squirrelcrow #crowfeather #crowsquirrel

53 notes · View notes

bimboamyrose · 4 years ago

Text

Unfamiliar (Ch. 11)

Unfamiliar - A Metamy Fanfic

First two chapters

Previous (Ch.10)

Chapter 11: Thoughtful *Check end notes for a bit of extra content!

It had been some years since Amy seriously studied and read the cards. There was a time when she would perform daily tarot pulls first thing each morning, reflecting on a goal for the day and reading a single card for guidance. It was rare that her insights led her astray, but the entire practice had fallen to the wayside in the past two years. Her friends found her uncanny predictions too eerie and refused to indulge her any further. Without anyone to share her talents with, Amy became dispirited with fortune-telling, and her interest faded over time. Now, ever since she’d taken the opportunity to recount her earliest readings with her house guest, Amy began to doubt her ability to interpret the cards at all. After years of convincing herself that patience and perseverance would manifest her romantic intentions to no avail, she decided it was finally time to revisit and reinterpret that faithful hand.

Though she’d never gone, Amy knew of a semi-annual gathering of fortune-tellers and spiritualists that occurred on the equinox. Spring equinox was just around the corner and it was there, Amy hoped, she could find some additional wisdom and guidance. But first, it was time to get reacquainted with her favorite deck.

Amy looked at her nightstand. A sunny tulip rested in a jar over a ceramic coaster. She pulled a deck box from the drawer, clearing a thin film of dust from atop its wooden frame. She set off on the ritual of cleansing and charging that had so long been neglected before finally preparing for her daily pull. A shuffle and an affirmation later, Amy picked the top card from her deck with a nervous breath. The Page of Cups. Creativity, intuition, and the inner child.

A nostalgic smile spread across Amy’s cheeks as memories of her earliest studies and readings danced across her mind. So many years were spent faithfully cultivating her understanding of the practice and training her abilities. It used to be therapeutic- fun, even. She remembered feeling optimistic and prepared for each opportunity. But after so many hardships, predicting the next challenge began to feel tactful, stressful. At what point did she stop looking forward to the day ahead?

Amy decided that it was high time she reconnected with that childish enthusiasm. If nothing else, it would help her understand her reading better. She looked back on all her time spent at the library reading every tome and pamphlet she could find on tarot and resolved to visit her local branch that very day. After a short while getting ready, she emerged from her bedroom much later than intended.

It was close to noon. Amy had skipped breakfast and there was hardly a thing to eat in her fridge. “Guess I neglected the groceries again,” she sighed to herself. Another errand to run for the day. Metal wasn’t in the living room, so she stepped out through the backdoor to find him crouching close to the shore some ways away. He turned to look at her when she called out to him, beckoning her over.

“Good morning.” Amy joined her friend near the seashore, leaning over his shoulder. “Whatcha looking at?” Metal lifted his hand. A hermit crab crawled over his fingers slowly, a smaller shell sitting in Metal’s palm. The smaller one was long and prickly while the crab wore a much smoother and opalescent shell as it crawled around Metal’s hand. “Made a new friend?” Amy giggled. She crouched next to him but the sudden movement scared the critter into hiding. “Oh, oops… sorry.”

Metal handed Amy the crab’s old shell. She examined its ridges and dull spines. “Did it just molt?” Metal nodded as the crab began to stir in his hand again. He turned back to watch it. “It’s so cute,” she sighed. “You’ve been out here a while, huh? It really warmed up to you.” Metal emitted a soft mechanical ring and slowly lowered his hand onto the beach. The crab scuttled around his palm for another moment before hesitantly climbing down onto the sand. He observed as it burrowed down through the sand and disappeared, leaving its tiny footprints in the damp ground.

Amy couldn’t keep her eyes off Metal. A dreamy expression made its way onto her face as she watched his gentle interaction with the little creature, the heartwarming sight inviting a soft flush into her cheeks. So sweet, she thought, once again noticing his careful demeanor. Their feuding seemed so far away now.

The tide nipping at their feet soon brought Amy out of her trance. “Don’t get too wet,” she cautioned as she straightened herself and took some steps back from the chilly water.

It took Metal another moment to get up. He’d spent the last hour crouched there, keeping the vulnerable critter company as it hesitantly came out of its shell, exposing itself to the harsh world for the opportunity to grow in its new home. Metal had pushed the new shell closer to the crab and stood over it like a scarecrow ready to fend off any stray predators. When it was finally settled in its new home, Metal continued to sit still as it scuttled across the sand slowly, like a child breaking in a new pair of shoes. Finally, the crab thanked Metal by climbing onto his outstretched hand and entertaining him for a short while. Then it simply went about continuing its day. Melancholy made its presence aware as Metal thought about how incredibly temporary the interaction was. He lifted himself off the wet sand and stood back near Amy, listening to the gentle waves coming ashore. She tapped him on the shoulder.

“Are you gonna keep it?” She held the spiny shell out in her hand.

He looked at it briefly before placing an uncertain hand on the shell. Amy met his eyes with an encouraging smile. Taking it in his hand, Metal examined the crab’s former home and committed its many ridges to memory before placing it back in the sand.

“Oh, good call. It’ll be useful for the next crab that comes along, huh?” Amy breathed the salty air in deeply, thinking about the day ahead. “I’m heading to the library, then I need to do a little shopping. Wanna come?”

----

The friends made their way into town after a quick stop to get Amy some breakfast. She’d brought a wheeled shopping trolley along to carry her groceries back and suggested they walk. “It’s so nice out,” she’d insisted. But Amy had neglected to mention the very uncomfortable bus ride that came along with that suggestion. All eyes were on them as they rode- or more accurately, on Metal. Perhaps they recognized him, or perhaps the sight alone was just strange enough to incite a reaction. Amy continued jabbering to him, attempting to make a pointy unblinking robot casually riding the bus with his companion seem more normal. Unfortunately, it only served to draw more attention to the pair. They couldn’t arrive at their stop fast enough.

They seemed to attract just as many stares inside the library, though some apparent social norms kept strangers from ogling or whispering too obviously once they were inside. Amy practically dragged Metal by the arm from section to section, mumbling “Sorry,” to him between forced waves and smiles to anyone that recognized her. “They’ll get used to it, don’t worry.”

Amy picked up several volumes as they traversed the building: A sewing guide for a project she’d hit a snag on, a cookbook whose instructions she would likely ignore in favor of preparing meals her own way, and a couple of novels to keep her entertained at bedtime. All the while, people stopped to look at Metal, some whispering to their companions when he walked past. As his irritation grew, so did the constant whirring of his engine. The buzzing became painfully apparent and worried glances in his direction shifted to those of annoyance. A particularly stern-looking librarian shushed him as they walked past her. Metal shot a glare back at the brave woman who returned with a sour look. Amy whispered an apology and dragged him away before the woman could give them a verbal warning.

Amy then spent longer than she’d wanted browsing the occult section. There wasn’t even a large collection- but she felt so out of practice as she skimmed through each of the newer books individually, looking for answers to her questions. She nearly brought half a dozen back with her before realizing they took up a third of the space in her trolley. Settling for the two that seemed the most promising, she placed the last of the books in her basket while ignoring one librarians’ concerned stares. “Anything you want me to check out for you, Metal?” she whispered.

He’d been browsing along with her, though none of the topics she’d looked at were interesting to him. She eventually convinced him to give a pair of her favorite novels a shot before continuing to the checkout counter and transacting with a very distressed clerk. Amy tried making her usual small talk with the man as he was regularly quite chatty, but he clammed up as Metal loomed behind her through the process. The annoyance was becoming harder for Amy to disguise.

Several more bystanders took a double-take at Amy and Metal on their short walk to the market, someone narrowly avoiding crashing their bike into a fence pole while gaping at the pair. Amy’s face held an unusually irritable expression as she completed her shopping in record time with Metal trailing restlessly behind. Most people turned and hid away the moment he made eye contact with them, but he couldn’t help having his guard up in such an unfriendly environment.

As they checked out, the two women that queued behind them stood far away. They clicked their tongues and whispered spitefully. Metal had heard every breath and murmur that had been uttered around him all day, but Amy could just barely pick up pieces of the womens’ conversation. “Dangerous,” and “appalling” made their way to her ears as she paid for the groceries. Metal’s discomfort may have been apparent only to her, but it was no excuse for the harsh words. Livid was an understatement.

She turned to them with a sudden glare, raising her voice. “Do you two have something to say?”

Taken aback, the women turned away somewhat shamefully. They continued to side-eye Metal as Amy finished her transaction with a rather alarmed cashier, putting away the rest of her purchase. Once they assumed Amy was out of earshot, however, they continued their hushed conversation. “It’s an absolute monster,” one of them remarked.

Metal froze momentarily. Countless thoughts ran across his mind. Remembering his frightening appearance in Amy’s mirror some days ago stood out. The unwelcome feeling he’d had during the team meeting came rushing back. He also recalled how it took nothing to lose his cool when Sonic showed up and how crucial it was to keep it from happening again. Then, he noticed the pure rage in Amy’s face as she whipped her head back around, eyes blazing at the women queued behind them.

“How dare you!” Amy took a menacing step toward the women as they gasped and scrambled backward some paces. “How could you possibly be this rude? Apologize!” The ladies turned to the cashier, stammering something about calling security. “Did you hear me? Apologize to my friend right now!”

By that time, a small crowd had formed around the queue. Amy didn’t back down, taking further steps toward the gossiping crones, causing them to scutter back into the throng of customers. “Ma’am,” the cashier began nervously, “I’m- uh- I’m going to have to ask you to leave, please.”

“Are you serious?” she scoffed back at him. “Did you hear what those hags said about my friend? I’m not leaving until- hey!”

Amy was staring at the floor from above before she knew what was happening. Metal had scooped her up by the waist, dragging her trolley behind as he shuffled toward the exit with Amy under his arm. She squirmed and groaned at him to let her go until they were well past the shop’s main entrance. He set her down in a small alley with a huff. At least there they were away from prying eyes.

“Why’d you do that? They should’ve said they were sorry!” Metal stepped in front of Amy to prevent her from making the rash decision to run back in and continue threatening the pair of pearl-clutchers. “Ugh! Get out of my way!” She just managed to slip past him when he grabbed her by the wrist. She wasn’t able to stifle a pained yell as Metal’s iron grip tightened around her- He let go just as suddenly, recoiling with guilt as she held her sore wrist.

In a moment of clarity, Amy gasped at the realization that she’d let her temper get the better of her. Worse, the way Metal remorsefully turned away sent her own guilt skyrocketing. “Metal…” He refused to look at her. “I’m sorry! Please don’t be upset.”

Even at his most careful, even stripped of his weapons, Metal couldn’t help how dangerous his body was - how dangerous he was. For however much he enjoyed Amy’s company and appreciated her support, he couldn’t seem to subvert the expectation that he could cause her harm at any moment. He could cause anyone harm- it’s what he was made for, after all. Those women were right about him; perhaps monster was an apt description. It seemed that every little shred of comfort and normalcy he experienced was fleeting, a temporary feeling punctuated with anger or sadness or guilt. It felt wrong. What was he supposed to do in between those positive moments, anyway? The deep discomfort of the moment made him want to fly far away, rush home- but there wasn’t one to run to.

“Metal, I’m fine! I was just surprised.” She held her wrist up to him as proof. “See? Please don’t feel bad.” He wanted to swat her hand from in front of his nose in annoyance but stopped himself- why was his first instinct so aggressive? Instead, taking a gentle hold of her hand, Metal examined her wrist. It did look fine- but her earlier yell had caught him so off guard.

His soft hold over her hand was also a surprise. Amy stammered bashfully. “I-It’s those old crones! I can’t stand that they said that about you. I just- ugh!” she had to consciously stop herself from getting steamed up again. “I hate when people judge others like that. They’ll never know how wrong they are about you...” she trailed off, somewhat embarrassed and particularly flushed.

Amy’s kind words and willingness to stick up for him stunned Metal. Not knowing how else to respond, he emitted a low, apologetic tone and slipped his hand away from hers.

“Don’t apologize,” she sighed. “You didn’t do anything wrong; Actually, I would’ve done something stupid if you hadn’t stopped me.”

It was gratifying that Amy would defend him so earnestly- not only from cruel bystanders but from her own indiscretion as well. Still, he’d already told himself he wouldn’t rely on her to come to his aid. So then, why was it so endearing? He shrugged and rubbed his arm with some chagrin, unsure how he should feel about… everything.

“It’s annoying, isn’t it? I was in such good spirits this morning. Crazy how fast something can sour your mood.” She pouted pensively, remembering her draw from that morning. The Page of Cups stood as a positive reminder to embrace her intuition- to have fun. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to town with a friend. Then, an idea popped into her mind and Amy’s face softened, her sweet smile returning. It would be foolish to ignore it.

“Metal, I know we’re carrying a lot of stuff, but do you mind if we make one more stop?”

His shoulders slumped. Dragging the rolling case full of books and groceries around didn’t bother him, but Metal was reluctant to visit yet another place full of people gawking at him. He would need time to get used to it.

“Please? Consider it a favor. It won’t take long.”

Amy’s eyes were suddenly twinkling with enthusiasm. He couldn’t tell if he was being manipulated or if anything that could come from denying her request would genuinely please him more than seeing her that way. It didn’t matter for long, as he gave in, taking hold of the trolley and flashing her a hesitant thumbs-up.

“Yes!” she beamed. “You won’t regret it, come on.” Amy led him by the hand excitedly, cutting through alleys and back streets. If anyone had stopped to ogle at them along the way, Metal didn’t notice- he was too enraptured with the instant delight that seemed to spill from Amy as she pulled him along.

Soon, the pair had arrived at a tall building with an open ground floor. Claw machines and brightly-colored lights filled the inside. “Bet you’ve never been to an arcade,” Amy grinned. “It’s nicer to see at night I guess, but the games are fun whenever. Here,” she skipped over to a row of skill games. “It’s probably cheating, but…” Amy took a quick glance around, scanning for attendants. “Ah, who cares, not like they give out prizes for these here. Try this one!”

Metal had soon been thrust in front of a tall machine that glittered with multicolored lights. A shiny metal handle stuck out from the lower part of it. The top read “TRUE GRIP” in bold font. He looked back at Amy with some confusion.

“It’s a grip tester. The harder you hold the handle, the better your score.” She placed a coin in the machine and it chimed a playful tune. “I know you can beat the high score,” she winked. “Try it!”

So this was her game- Amy wanted to put on a positive spin over grabbing her too roughly earlier. He had to admit, it was clever. Even though he could see through her plan, Metal was heartened by her attempt to cheer him up with such an obvious ruse; The least he could do now was indulge her. He confidently took hold of the handle with his usual grip strength, resting his other hand squarely on his hip. The lights on the machine danced around the “strength-o-meter” as it sang a cheery tune. After a few moments of this, the machine decided that on a scale of “meek” to “super grip,” Metal landed squarely in the middle. “KINDA WIMPY,” the game announced. Amy burst into laughter the moment it stopped.

Metal’s engine buzzed incessantly as he let out a series of indignant beeps. He then glared at Amy, who was doubled over and cackling. “Oh man,” she managed to splurt out between fits of laughter, “that was too good! Got a little cocky, huh?” He was far less amused. Metal stuck out his hand to her, making a grabbing gesture with his claws. “Oh? Another round?” she giggled. “Alright, don’t waste my quarter this time, you wimp.”

He shoved the coin into its slot the second she dropped it in his palm. As soon as the lights flickered, Metal grabbed the handle. It seemed simple enough- he got halfway up with his first round, so using twice as much force should be enough. He took hold of it with several times more power just to be safe, staring directly at the tip of the game’s meter with anticipation. Much to his chagrin, the lights stopped just below the top spot. “KINDA TOUGH,” it sang out this time.

Amy was reeling. Metal turned to her angrily and shoved his hand in front of her face, once more gesturing for another coin. She pushed it away between giggles. “Pfft, no way, you’re gonna break the thing!” Metal stomped his foot on the ground angrily in response. “Don’t worry,” Amy placed a hand on his shoulder with a grin. “These things are rigged. You won’t get the high score even if you rip that handle out,” she chuckled.

Metal crossed his arms in annoyance. Not only was he embarrassed at losing a silly arcade game, but he was surprised to learn that he’d misread Amy somewhat. He assumed she brought him there for an easy win, but she was well aware that it was unlikely to happen. Admittedly, he didn’t feel very guilty anymore, and he supposed it was rather amusing… Was that her intent? Metal turned back to Amy, who was wiping at her eyes happily. She really just wanted to ease the tension and have some fun together- and Amy even knew he’d be a little irritated. She was just being... playful. Like friends are.

A giddy smile filled her face as she came out of her laughing fit. “Sorry, just wanted to tease you a little. I don’t want you to feel so bad about being strong- I’m tough, I can handle it,” she assured.

Metal rolled his eyes, his stance softening significantly. Once he realized how silly the whole situation was, he may have even found it somewhat humorous himself. Still, it would be far more amusing if he could get her back. He gestured toward the machine that stood beside the grip tester, inviting her to try it. It was a similar test of strength, this time with a punching bag.

Amy grinned coyly. “I get it, you wanna see me fail, too. I’ll indulge you,” she shrugged. “But only ‘cause I feel bad that you’re such a wimp.”

As Metal bobbed his head mockingly, Amy rolled a quarter into the coin slot. She stretched her arms casually, giving the game a moment to warm up. Once all of its many lights were on and the screen read “PUNCH,” she pulled back her fist and went for a forceful hook, knocking the punching bag up into the sensor. The lights flickered up and down the meter for just a second until the optics at the very top of the machine exploded with colors. “SUPER STRONG!” the game rang out.

If Metal had a jaw to drop it would be on the floor. So much for the games being rigged- Amy knew exactly what she was doing. He would have been vexed if it wasn’t so impressive. He watched as she shook her fingers off and turned back with her beaming smile. “I’m doing that to the next person who calls you a nasty name,” she giggled.

She was nothing short of incredible. Metal recalled her old file in his memory. Weak. That was certainly no longer the case. He took a snap of her then, looking cheerful and victorious, and logged it as the main photo in his memory. The word weak no longer applied and was promptly crossed out. Before he could alter the file any more, Amy had taken hold of his hand in her tender way, gazing into him with her soft eyes.

“You know, you’re one of the most thoughtful people I’ve ever met. I think it’s really admirable how willing you are to be gentle even when it’s a challenge. Don’t ever believe otherwise.”

Metal was stunned by her kindness yet again. What was it that Amy saw in him that others did not? Surely it wasn’t just naivete, given her willingness to be combative in his defense- no, she was no doormat. And Amy didn’t see Metal as fiendish, at least not anymore. But it still took her some time, however less than it would have taken anyone else. Strangers, on the other hand, are temporary, there wouldn’t always be time to show them his true self. Metal did not know how he could possibly appear less menacing to bystanders, nor did the idea of trying to do so appeal to him. He wanted to understand, to calculate if creating an existence as a regular person, grasping at a fleeting sense of belonging, would even be worth it should he succeed. But it was unpredictable. Incalculable.

Amy had said it herself: “Crazy how fast something can sour your mood.” But it worked conversely as well- on any day, at any given moment, Metal could be more elated than he ever remembered feeling. And there was something so sweet about feeling that way after having his mood soured. It was endlessly more rewarding. So what, then, was the point of lamenting over the impermanence of those moments? There would always be rude strangers, always challenges ahead. No one would ever know him fully. All the more reason, then, for Metal to get to know himself as intimately as possible. Thoughtful was a good place to start.

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

(notes contain chapter spoilers)

hello babesss i hope you enjoyed this chapter.

i like to think that amy has some latent magical powers and her being able to beat the ever loving shit out of a rigged arcade game is just part of her magic. also, she’s stronk.

also! i’ve been working on a small playlist with songs that remind me of each chapter, but i’ve drawn a blank for a few. if anyone has any songs they associate with the fic (or with metal/amy in general), please dm me your suggestions! i love hearing your thoughts and i’m a geezer that is too stubborn to listen to new music unless someone shoves it in front of me.

here’s the playlist so far!

#metamy #metal sonic #amy rose #metal sonic x amy rose #sth fanfiction #unfamiliar #ch 11 #the playlist is unlisted by the way so hang onto the link or check back if you want to hear it again!

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shianhygge-imagines · 4 years ago

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Playing the Game {Devil May Cry} x {Among Us}

AN: So, I’ve been playing a lot of Among Us in my down time. My old coworkers from Uniqlo (haven’t worked with them for around a year and a half now, love them to bits though) have been inviting me to play full games. And because everyone else seems to really love the Among Us content on Tumblr now, I figured, why not? It’s easy enough to write something for it.

So, anyways, this is actually a one-shot instead of a headcanon. And there are technically no pairings. Reader was written Gender Neutral as well.

If you like the content I create, please consider donating to my Ko-fi! Please help me feed my tea addiction!

|Masterlist Link|

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27th September - 04:58pm - Devil May Cry

It’s a miracle that everyone happened to be in the same place at the same time when Patty barged into Devil May Cry with a cart full of laptops. Dante had gone to hide as soon as his Patty senses tingled, practically pulling off an acrobatic feat just to get to the second floor in time. Curious as to what the young lady wanted, you put your book down and stood to help the blonde mortal with her burden.

“It’s good to see you, Patty. Dante’s currently expelling his stomach lining in the bathroom.” From behind you, both Vergil and Nero snorted at your comment while V quirked a brow at your antics. “Were you looking for him?”

“Yeah! I found a new game we call all play!” Patty lifted a small laptop, presenting it to you. “We can all play it if we have enough players… but um… I can wait until Dante’s out of the bathroom. Is he okay?”

Taking the laptop, you waved nonchalantly with a grin. “Oh, he’ll be fine. It was just a week old pizza. He’ll be down once he’s done! Until then, take a seat at his desk!” You take your seat between Vergil and V on one of the couches, opening up the laptop to glance blankly at the only desktop icon on the screen, then at the bar at the bottom showing that was connected to the internet already. “Is the game called ‘Among Us’?”

Patty nods with a hum, opening her own personal laptop up. “It’s an online multiplayer game. You play as a space crew, walking around the map completing tasks in the form of mini games. All crew members have to complete their tasks to win the game.”

“There’s a catch, isn’t there?” Nero scoffed, peering over your shoulder at the computer screen when you opened up the game. Kyrie and Nico also joined him in taking a peek.

“Yeah! Each game has anywhere from one to three imposters.” Patty informed, nodding her head as she explained, beyond ecstatic that you were seemingly interested in playing. “The imposters look like crew members, but their job is to sabotage or kill the crew, preventing the crew members from winning. Imposters have a little menu that they can use to turn off lights, or shut doors. They also have an advantage of being able to enter vents to escape an area. Imposters win when they’ve cut down crew member number enough. To weed out the Imposters, crew members can report any bodies they find or press the emergency button on the map once per player to have a meeting. From there, players can present evidence of a player being innocent or guilty of being an Imposter, and the crew can vote whoever they think is ‘Sus’ or suspicious off the ship.”

“So it’s a game of skillful assassination and deceit.” Vergil summarized, now slightly interested in participating.

“Perhaps a bit of patience and being able to read others.” V interjected, closing his book to shoot a judgmental expression at Vergil… one that the elder Sparda twin gladly returned with a haughty smirk. It’s nice to know that even if V was once a part of Vergil, they still feel disdain towards one another.

Patty thinks for a moment, her blue eyes observing your group by the couch for a moment before nodding, “Yeah, I guess it is! Gotta be careful though, because Imposters can self report their kill… but they also have a kill countdown… but even if a crew mate is killed, they can still roam the map completing their tasks as ghosts. Obviously though, if you die, you can’t tip off who the Imposter is to people who are alive. Once Dante’s back, we’ll have a few practice rounds before doing an official round.”

“Count us in.” All heads in the downstairs area turned as Dante descended the stairs, Lady and Trish behind him. “Bunch of hunters like us? It’ll be a piece of cake.”

Official Round Start

When the first official game started, you were all seated in various locations of Devil May Cry’s first floor, laptops in your laps and noise cancelling headphones on. The front door was locked, sign flipped to read ‘CLOSED’ so that nobody interrupted the series of unfortunate events unfolding within the shop.

There were ten players in total: You (Purple), Dante (Red), Vergil (Blue), Nero (White), Kyrie (Cyan), Nico (Green), V (Black), Trish (Yellow), Lady (Orange), and Patty (Pink).

When the countdown finished, and your screen went black, you schooled your face until it was carefully blank. Well, well… this will be fun. You decide when the screen informs you that you and Kyrie are the Imposters. Discreetly, you and Kyrie glance up to look around the room before winking at one another and directing your eyes back down to the computer screen.

The map that Patty had chosen was the Skeld with two short tasks, two normal tasks, and one long task.

Starting off in the Cafeteria, you moved down to Admin, following as Vergil, Dante, and Nico went to do their tasks in the room while you sat at wires, watching until one of them moved. Walking out just as the task bar went up, you headed down and right until you were in Shields.

You watched as Nico and V passed you before moving up towards Weapons, where you saw Trish downloading files. Quickly, you walked behind her and clicked the Kill button before venting, popping up in Navigation just as Kyrie knocked out the lights.

Deciding to take the risk, you went into the other vent in Navigation and popped out at Shields again, moving out of that hallway to Storage, pretending to empty out the trash just as Vergil passed you by with Dante at his tail, making deliberate and erratic movements. Just as you are about to Sabotage Comms, a meeting is called, and you notice that V was killed along with Trish. Shrugging, you take off your headphones with everyone else.

“VERGIL’S SUS!” Dante pointed at Vergil with a grin.

You could practically see Vergil’s last thread of patience snap, “If anyone’s suspicious, it was you!”

“Kyrie and I found V’s body in the Cafeteria right after the lights were fixed.” Nero announced, interrupting his father and uncle to look at V, who just sighed heavily and took out a book, refusing to make any facial expressions to help the Crew… and ignoring the superior stare that Vergil aimed at him. Well, this is going to get tiring really quick, isn’t it. You deadpan at their interactions, hoping that they would just warm up to one another already.

“Well, I can account for Lady, Dante, and Y/N.” Vergil sighed, lips thinning in displeasure that they were two down already. “Lady was already fixing lights, and Y/N was coming from the east side to do the garbage… Dante has been following me the entire game.”

“Did anyone happen to see where Trish’s body was? Or where she headed off to from the start?” You asked.

“Trish headed to MedBay while Kyrie and I went to the Engine and Reactor.” Nero piped up, “I didn’t see her for the rest of the round.”

“Okay…” Lady mumbled before her heterochromatic eyes landed on Patty, who jolted from the older woman’s intense stare. “Patty, where were you?”

Patty paused to think, “When the alarm was sounded, I was with Nico in Security.”

“Can confirm!” Nico nodded with a ‘humph.’

“But before that, I went to Weapons to shoot asteroids, looped back into Cafeteria to go down to Storage to do a task there. I was just behind Y/N as they headed off to the right side… and then I went left into the Lower Engine before meeting up with Nico.” Patty concluded.

“Are we going to vote this round?” Vergil wondered, eyes fixed upon the timer countdown. “Or should we skip?”

“Hold on, Vergil.” Lady raised a hand before continuing to stare down Patty. “So you were the last one in the Cafeteria?”

“Um… that I know of?” Patty raised a brow, “But that was like at the beginning of the round.”

“So, you could have killed V at the very beginning.” Lady’s eyes narrowed, “That’s a bit suspicious.”

“So… voting out Patty?” Nico asked, seemingly convinced. “We could wait, but…”

“I voted already.” Lady chimed.

“Done.” Vergil confirmed.

“Well, if we’re sure…” Nero shrugged.

“Wait! That’s jumping wayyyy too into conclusions!” Patty protested. “There were a lot of people near the Cafeteria. They could have done it during the black out.”

“Nah, a lot of us were accounted for.” Dante clicked his tongue before turning to look at Patty. “Sorry, Patty.”

You and Kyrie had already voted. The only one who didn’t vote for Patty had been Nico.

Patty screamed in frustration before falling silent, “You all suck!”

Patty has been ejected.

“Nico, why didn’t you vote?” Nero questioned his mechanic, “You’re the one who asked to vote Patty out.”

“Sus-pi-cious~~~” Lady sang quickly before you all put your headphones back on.

The next round, you watched as Vergil, Dante, and Lady headed off to the right side before dancing back and forth in front of Nico and Kyrie, asking them wordlessly to follow you to the MedBay. When Kyrie followed me, Nero followed after her.

Once all four of you were in the MedBay, you pretended to complete a task while Nico got a med-scan. Almost all at once, you Sabotaged the MedBay doors as well as O2 within a few seconds before you and Kyrie got a double kill, getting Nico and Nero both at once. Both of you took the vent into Security before killing the Lights, walking down together to Electrical, where you turned the lights back on. Just as you were about to exit the room with Kyrie, you two encounter Dante, Vergil, and Lady.

Noticing that the cooldown had ended for the Kill button, you clicked on it, watching as your character stabbed Vergil’s in the back with a knife. It seemed that Kyrie had the same idea, as Dante was dead once the animation was over.

The screen went black and you and Kyrie cheered, throwing ‘air-fives’ at each other from across the room.

Everyone took their headphones off, shocked as their eyes trained upon you and Kyrie.

“What… the hell.” Nico muttered.

“I TOLD YOU GUYS IT WASN’T ME!” Patty screamed at everyone in the room, slumping in her seat and pouting.

“That was scarily efficient.” Dante groaned, staring at you and Kyrie with a new light.

Nero groaned and buried his face in his hands, “I knew there was something odd going on when we lost one another by the upper engine when the lights went out.”

“Hehe.” Kyrie laughed sheepishly, patting Nero on the shoulder. “Oops?”

“Y/N! I trusted you!” Nico wailed, looking as if cartoon tears would be streaming down her face if possible.

Raising a single hand up, you grinned and made the sign for ‘Victory.’ “I guess you guys just can’t underestimate us, then!”

“Another round.” Vergil demanded, glaring at you with a challenge in his eyes. “If I’m Imposter, you won’t be able to escape me. And if you’re the Imposter… then you won’t get the drop on me twice.”

You all grinned, and clicked on the ‘play again’ button. “Challenge accepted.”

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eyreguide · 4 years ago

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A recap of the Brontë2020 Virtual Conference

On Friday the very first virtual Brontë conference was held and included a program of various talks and presentations by people knowledgeable on many different aspects of the Brontës. And reader, I had a wonderful time.

This post is just a brief overview of the event, with some commentary on the different topics and comments that were discussed and that I found interesting. This conference was held as a way to help support the amazing Brontë Parsonage in Haworth as they are going through a difficult time with the impact of Covid-19. If you are able, please donate whatever you can to the Parsonage by visiting this site. Help them reach their goal!

I live in the United States so I wasn’t able to attend all the panels - I decided to make my first one the discussion with Sandy Welch (screenwriter of the 2006 Jane Eyre adaptation) which was 5 am my time! I was so excited to hear what Sandy had to say about writing Jane Eyre that I was wide awake by the time her panel started.

Special Guest: Sandy Welch

First off, I didn’t realize Welch had also written the screenplay for North and South (one of my absolute favorite period dramas!) so I was pretty much in awe of her talent, even though the 2006 Jane Eyre isn’t exactly my favorite. If you read through my reviews of all the adaptations here. I have a few issues with the scenes after the failed wedding where Jane and Rochester are on her bed. And also I felt like the dialogue and added scenes did not always feel true to the novel. But Welch talked about her approach to adapting Jane Eyre and I agreed with all of her comments. Jane is a modern woman in that she is making her own way in the world, and that her thoughts and prose in the book are direct and clear to the reader. And Welch was glad to give more time to the conversations between Jane and Rochester so that the humor and intelligence that connects them shines through. The emotions were allowed to develop and we can see how Rochester changes with Jane.

There was some discussion about the character of Rochester and how the audience needs to see that they deserve each other and are equals. So you see more of Rochester’s vulnerabilities and emotions in this adaptation. It’s important to remember too that Charlotte made Bertha irredeemable so that Rochester could not make his situation better, but he tried his best to take care of her.

A question from the audience did bring up that scene where Jane must say goodbye to Rochester and they end up on her bed - I was very keen to know what Welch would say. She acknowledged that it was a bold choice, but there is that sensuality in the book, and Rochester wants to “impress” himself on Jane, and throughout the novel, Jane is very passionate. It seemed natural to Welch to have that shown on screen. It’s a bit of artistic license that still doesn’t sit easily with me, but I am glad to know the thought process was grounded in trying to take a realistic approach to how that scene would develop.

Another question also asked about the addition of the twins and the doubles theme in the adaptation. Welch included that to give Jane an opportunity to participate in the conversation around her since she is intelligent and able to hold her own. And to show that not all of the people in Rochester’s party are horrible. It also gives a little foreshadowing to the call across the moors between Jane and Rochester near the end.

The last topic I want to mention is when someone asked what the difference was between approaching Margaret Hale’s character (from North and South) and Jane Eyre. Welch worked to make Margaret more sympathetic and Thornton a little less so, so that they were equals in the story - much like Jane and Rochester already are.

A Day in the Life of the Parsonage

I was very excited about this next panel, where Ann Dindsdale, the collections manager of the Parsonage, and Rebecca Yorke, the communications manager, talk about what it is like to manage the Parsonage day to day. It made me long to be able to work there myself! Just think how lovely it would be to be up early in the morning at the house, preparing for the visitors that day.

On my last visit to the Parsonage, I was able to take the VIP tour (which I talked about here) and I have to say seeing a glimpse of the place behind the scenes and led by a knowledgeable docent was amazing. They do wonderful work there!

The two talked about the work that goes into maintaining the house - especially during the month-long closure in January where they clean every book and check every piece of furniture! When asked how they decide what to display, Ann said she puts out “what she likes” (lucky!) but it was also good to rotate everything regularly.

The Parsonage feels it is important for guests to “engage with the Parsonage” - a wonderful way to describe how the guests are made to feel when they visit - as a part of the experience. And with social distancing right now due to the pandemic, visiting the Parsonage couldn’t be a more personal and intimate experience. I so wish I could make the trip across the pond right now and visit!

Author Roundtable: The Brontës, the 21st Century and Us

This was a fascinating panel with talented authors. I’ve read some of their books so I’ll link to my review of their work when possible. The panel was moderated by Rowan Coleman (The Vanished Bride) and included Finola Austin (Brontës’ Mistress), Syrie James (The Secret Diaries of Charlotte Brontë), Sarah Shoemaker (Mr. Rochester), Julie Cohen (Spirited), Lucy Powrie (The Paper Hearts Society) and Nikita Gil (a well-known poet, although unfortunately I am unfamiliar with her work.

The conversation was dense and thought-provoking. The authors touched on many topics and ideas beginning with how each author felt about the Brontës’ work. Their books are about identity and who we are as people - we can live by their ideals, said Lucy. Sarah said that women are still not equal to men in how they are treated today and she loves how Jane does not hesitate to tell Rochester that she does not think him handsome - it’s an unconventional answer, the unexpected one, and it shows how they are opening up to each other and on their way to being equals. Syrie is fascinated by the almost mythical story they lived in their little place in the world. And how you can feel their rage against patriarchal societies in their work. Nikita pointed out that patriarchy erases the role of women, but the Brontës have endured in spite of that.

In their approach to writing stories that revolve around the Brontës and their work, they try to be as reverential as possible and stick to the facts because so much of their lives are known, and their stories can be very autobiographical.

Julie talked about how we read the Brontës to find out about ourselves. With Villette especially there is a sense with Lucy Snowe that she is hiding a part of herself from the reader and people can relate to that.

The talk ended with thoughts on publishing bias - how women may not need to publish under pseudonyms today, but there is still a bias against what a woman writes and against race, sexuality, and many other things. We as readers need to show that we are interested in reading about a variety of lives and experiences.

In Conversation with Adam Nagaitis

Adam Nagaitis played Branwell Brontë in the film To Walk Invisible and talked with the organizers about his role. They opened by asking him trivia questions about Branwell to see how much he remembered from his research. Adam mentioned that he is still in touch with the actresses who played his sisters which I think is wonderful. They seem to all have gotten along very well.

Adam read all the classic works on Branwell to prepare, but he also dived into documentaries on alcoholism and it’s gruesome realities to understand Branwell better. Branwell wasn’t mature enough to deal with the vicissitudes in his life - with his relationship with Lydia he was excessive and consumed. He thought that turned her off from him, and that started a cycle where he blamed himself for the failed relationship and his failures in his art.

Because he was always surrounded by the people who knew him best, he was always reminded of his failure. Adam’s approach was very sympathetic to Branwell and tried to understand him mentally. Adam also talked about how he felt Branwell was never free as an artist. He always needed to work for the family or money but he could have been a brilliant newspaper satirist - something that might have been more along with his interests since he made wonderful biting cartoons.

In Conversation with Sally Wainwright

The last panel of the conference was a talk with Sally Wainwright - the writer and director of the superb Brontë biopic To Walk Invisible. Sally was approached to write this back in 2010 but she didn’t have time until 2016 which coincided with Charlotte’s bicentenary. It was a tough shoot for her as she felt she didn’t get all the shots she wanted, but the set was fantastic. They recreated the Parsonage as accurately as they could, resulting in a place that is bleaker and more isolated than the actual Parsonage today.

Sally also mentioned something that I found interesting - that she felt like the “Victorian” speak that people use today in period dramas probably didn’t really exist. We have constructed people in our period drama adaptations to speak in a particular way. And that the inclusion of curse words in her program showed that the characters were very like us - of course Branwell would curse and say the F-word.

Her approach to adapting the story was always to show it as realistically as possible and she wanted to show how the family was an interdependent team. For people who felt that Branwell was featured too much in the story - it’s important to remember that he was the leader of their gang as children and that when they were older, living with an addict affected their work as can be seen in The Tenant of Wildfell Hall and Wuthering Heights.

And speaking of Tenant of Wildfell Hall, apparently, Sally is working on a screenplay for the story, although it is on the backburner at the moment. She is having a hard time empathizing with Helen - especially because it is difficult today to empathize with a character who behaves in a certain way solely because of their religious beliefs. I do hope we get to see her adaptation of Anne’s work someday soon though!

#Brontes #Jane Eyre 2006 #Sandy Welch #Sally Wainwright #Adam Nagaitis #Jane Eyre #Wuthering Heights #Tenant of Wildfell Hall #To Walk Invisible

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probably-writing-x · 5 years ago

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A series of fortunate events.

Ander x Reader

Request by @diorrfairy : hi! i was wondering if u could an imagine on ander × reader in which y/n is a rich student at las encinas, they both like each other even if none of the two knows it. one day they got paired up for a school project together, so they decide doing it at her house. after finishing it they somehow manage to get tipsy/drunk and start teasing and flirting with each other until they end up making out in her pool. but then her parents suddenly arrive and discover them having a hot makeout sess. thankss

Gif is not my own

Requests are open🤍

“Okay, so for the final section of this unit, your project is going to be in pairs,” The professor explains, “I’ve already chosen your pairs to avoid you doing what you normally do.”

You sit back in your chair and tap your pen against the table, hoping to get paired with someone like Samuel or Nadia who were likely to do all of the work without you having to do much.

“(Y/n),” The teacher calls out, “You’ll be working with Ander.”

You’re certain your heart pauses for a second at the sound of his name. Ander. The boy you’d been silently pining over for months now. You’d known him since you’d first started Las Encinas and had always just run in the same friendship circles - never being the closest of friends but always knowing each other by association.

He leans back in his chair so that he could turn to speak to you from where you sat behind him, “Does this mean we actually have to do work?”

You look at him and scoff a little, “Or get away with doing the bare minimum.”

“I like the sound of that,” He shoots you a wink before turning back to the front of class and slumping back down a little in his chair.

- - - - - -

You’re just heading to walk out of the class when you hear him calling your name.

“Hey,” He catches up with you, “Should we try getting a start on this project this period? I’m free, we could go to the library.”

You adjust your grip on your books, feeling a little weak with him talking so directly to you, “Yeah, sure. Did you manage to listen to what we have to do?”

He chuckles, “We all got given a book from A series of unfortunate events. I didn’t even know how many there were. But we got-“ Ander pauses and checks his notebook, “The Carniverous Carnival.”

You laugh, “That sounds like an interesting one, were we supposed to have read this already?”

“You’re as lost as I am,” He smirks, “Maybe we should get started then.”

You both walk to the library and take out a copy of the novel to start attempting to understand the story at least.

“Holy shit! This is dark!” Ander exclaims, instantly met with glares and hushes from the small group of silence in the library, “Sorry.” He mumbles bashfully.

“I’m up to the bit where he’s said about the lions, I don’t think I want to read any further,” You joke, closing the book, “So what do we actually have to do?”

“Never join a carnival,” He scoffs and you giggle a little too much at his response.

He looks up at you and can’t help the smile that dances over his lips. How had he struck to lucky to be put with you for this project? Would it finally be his chance to shoot his shot? Fuck no. That shit actually took courage and Ander seemed to lose all of his when he was around you.

“Okay, this is hopeless,” You sigh, being warned by another few glares from the people around you, “My parents are out tonight, do you want to come round and we can try to do a bit more there?”

He gulps down the fear that stopped him from responding, “Yeah, yeah, definitely.”

“I’ll see you later, Ander.”

- - - - - -

At six, Ander comes walking up the grand driveway past the gates in front of your house - perfectly on time.

“Alright, I tried reading the book again and I still don’t get it,” Ander shrugs, “I don’t think I’ll be much help tonight.”

You laugh as you close the door behind him.

“Shit, nice house,” He comments, turning around and glancing at the modern interior, “You have a pool outside?”

“It doesn’t get used as much as it should do,” You shake your head, “Can I get you a drink?”

Yes, you had made sure the house was at least tidy for when he came round. Yes, you’d made sure there were no embarrassing pockets of your family photos anywhere in his sight. And yes, you’d made sure you looked semi-presentable for his visit.

“Yeah, yeah, thank you,” He follows you through to the kitchen.

“I’ve got wine, if you want wine,” You pull out a bottle from the fridge, “It might make this project a bit more bearable.”

“I didn’t realise I was so hard to work with,” He smirks, a look you’d learnt had the ability to practically destroy you.

“You’re the worst,” You mock, grabbing two glasses from the cabinet and pouring two large glasses of the white wine.

He thanks you and raises his glass, “To the unfortunate events.”

You laugh and both take a gulp of the drink.

“I don’t think this is how they expect school projects to go.”

Somehow, that bottle of wine is finished with ease as you find yourself opening and almost finishing another. It was the kind of drink that went straight to your head and it was clear that Ander was no different.

“Okay, okay,” He laughs, stumbling a little as he stands in front of you, “Craziest place you’ve had sex?”

You pause for a moment and let out a hiccup, “Probably the hood of a parked car.”

“What?!” Ander exclaims, “Who knew you could be so wild?”

You laugh and stand up to keep up with his energy.

“Have you ever done it in the pool?” He waves his glass over to the swimming pool outside.

“I told you we don’t use that pool enough,” You roll your eyes.

He grins and sets both of your glasses down on the table, grabbing both of your hands instead, “Then what are we waiting for?”

You find yourself stumbling after him and he’s already tugging off his shirt by the time you reach the garden. It sobers you up slightly, Ander practically undressing in front of you. And it has the same effect for him when you’re matching his actions, before the two of you jump into the pool.

“Fuck, it’s cold!” He hisses, keeping himself afloat in the bitter water.

The two of you stay like that for a while, watching the sunset above your house as the light dims and you’re left awaiting a blanket of stars instead. It must be a mix of the time passed and the cold liquid shocking your system because you find that fuzziness in your brain starting to clear more and more.

“I was so glad when they put us on this project together,” Ander comments out of the blue, “I don’t think we’ve ever spent any time together where it’s just the two of us.”

You smile and turn your head a little to glance in his direction, “Me too. Although I did sort of hope I’d get Nadia so she could understand what we’re doing.”

He laughs and kicks against the water so that he now looks like he’s sitting underneath, his neck and head just above the surface, “I haven’t been much help.”

“It’s been... an experience,” You smirk, “I wouldn’t change it.”

He shakes his head with a chuckle and moves a little closer to you, “If I had the guts I would’ve told you that I liked you a long time ago.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and suddenly realise how magnified all of his features seemed to be when they were so close to you.

“So, have you ever kissed anyone in this pool?” He cocks a brow.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling too much, “You’d be the first.”

With that provoking a slight newfound confidence, his head dips to meet yours and his lips brush just slightly until they feel yours kissing back. Once he feels that, it’s like a switch flicks in his brain. It’s everything he’d been waiting for for months now. And you could say the same. He grabs your thighs and hoists your legs around his waist, walking you backwards until your back is against the tiled wall of the swimming pool. It’s intense and rushed and neither of you are quite certain of how to keep your balance in the water. But all of that melts away because this was Ander. And it’s the most passionate kiss you’d ever had.

“Fuck,” He mutters, moving one hand up to your hair as the other presses to the small of your back as though he was trying to create as little space as possible between you.

You’re so engrossed in each other that you almost miss the sound of keys turning in the door and your parents arriving home.

Your eyes bolt open quickly and Ander does the same.

“Shit,” You both exclaim with wide eyes.

He scrambles to get out of the pool and pulls you up out of the water too. Just as your parents come walking through the back door.

Their eyes widen as they look between the two of you.

“Is this what you class as studying?” Your Dad questions, “Who is this?”

Ander goes to reach out a hand to shake your Dads, “Ander.”

Your Dad looks at him in disgust, “Sort yourselves out and either continue with your project, or get off my property.”

Ander looks at you bashfully until your parents are out of sight and he turns to you with a smirk, “Well... that was interesting.”

You laugh a little, “Sorry about him. He’s a bit intense.”

He shakes a hand through his wet curls and lets the water fall across his face, “You’re full of surprises (Y/n).”

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cxmetery-gates · 4 years ago

Text

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER FIVE: COFFEE AND TINDER

SUMMARY: Lynn and Gabriel have a heart-to-heart talk about her last lover, with Gabe offering barely-legal suggestions. WORD COUNT: 2.45k NOTES: Gabe is probably my favorite character WARNINGS: dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston, mentions of past relationships, break-up talk, h*tler reference?? never thought i’d write that

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

THE SOUND OF A BELL alerts the classroom that the period is over. Everyone had been already packed and ready to go minutes before Mr. Hiddleston even began wrapping up his lesson. Even when I suffered through chemistry or dragged my deflated soul through finance, I never thought of putting my notes and pens away so soon. I know more than one student saw the icy glare I sent across the room but, most importantly and unfortunately, I also know nearly all of them didn't catch the slight disappointment in Mr. Hiddleston's tone.

I truly despise most people.

From the moment class started, it's been so unmistakably clear how much he loves what he teaches, that he enjoys what he spent thousands of dollars on just to show people how great literature is. I understand that all too well— save the going into debt part. Teachers are often times so mundane with their knowledge, not realizing how the way they present the information affects our understanding and interest in such. This is why high school teachers are stereotyped as people who just want a paid summer vacation. However, Mr. Hiddleston really put effort into his theatrics, like his lecture was a play. People with a teaching degree should teach in this way— why else go penniless willingly? The overall excitement was entertaining. And for that, I have to give the man some credit.

"Alright, guys. We'll be diving into the second part of this lecture tomorrow. Have a good one, you are dismissed." I don't think Mr. Hiddleston needed to announce the last blip of his closing statement. As I said, people are so rude.

Ellie begins to shove her notepad and other items into her bag after our teacher finishes speaking, reminding me of my kind company. I, on the other hand, am scrambling to take the last bit of notes, trying to relay any possible concepts mentioned on to paper. While there might not have been much depth in today's class, jotting down every last tidbit of information could be life or death. Or perhaps I'm just anal-retentive when it comes to note-taking. By the time I finish the note, Ellie is already standing.

"Girl, hurry up. We gotta go!" She drags out the last vowel of the last word humorously.

I wave my hand at her, flipping pages and dodging paper cuts. "Go on without me. I'll be fine," I say, remembering that Ellie's homeroom is on the first floor and the farthest down the hall.

Rolling her big brown eyes, she sighs, walking backward. "I'll miss you poppet. I love you." Her fake British accent is terrible, but I don't bother enlightening her. Perhaps the slight discoloration in her cheeks and how fast she dashed out of the room was due to finding Mr. Hiddleston in ear-shot of her terrible accent. I bite my lip, forcing myself to look away out of sheer second-hand embarrassment.

Once all my belongings are together, I turn to leave.

"That truly was an awful mockery," Mr. Hiddleston says in my direction from the whiteboard. His long toned arms wipe the marker away as I begin to walk past him.

I chuckle. "I'll let her know you said that."

Mr. Hiddleston fakes a groan, placing the eraser on the marker tray then turning to face me with those oh-so-charming eyes. There's no other way to describe them other than mesmerizing. "Oh, don't tell her I said it. I like being liked."

"Being 'liked' is the least of your worries with these girls," I mumble, mostly to humor myself. However, I must have been louder than anticipated. The innuendo is heard and doesn't fly over his head.

A titter of a laugh is heard from the man, and I now regret the words I mumbled. "So I have been told," he replies, making a slightly uncomfortable face. I can't blame him; anyone would feel incredibly awkward if teaching a class full of people who would sell both kidneys just to see them without a shirt.

Not in my dreams would I have imagined having a conversation with Mr. Hiddleston about how everyone wants to nail him. While such a phrase hasn't been explicitly noted, I have a feeling both our minds are in the same gutter. And with that recognition, an awkward heat embraces me. I press my lips together tightly and offer a shrug. "I think the proper thing for me to say is good luck."

Seeming to take my word, Mr. Hiddleston passes me a smile. I can't read what the meaning is, but I'll take it nonetheless with a cough to clear my throat. "Ah, well, as much as I love juicy gossip and scandals, I've got a stuck up prune for homeroom, so I definitely need to get going." I send him a wave, making my exit as awkward as possible.

"Warntz?" He asks.

My nose wrinkles at the name. It eve sounds terrible, almost as terrifying as Trunchbull or Umbridge. "You betcha."

"Good luck, Lynn. You've got two minutes."

I want to give another sassy remark, but the teasing look I find when I look over my shoulder sends my body into another blush. Muttering something close to 'whatever,' I decide that leaving is for the best, even if that means awaiting an angry, shriveled up raisin.

══════════════════

Exiting the high school front doors a few hours before the final bell is like the biggest sigh of relief and 'sucks to be you' to everyone else. An arm wraps around my shoulder, one I embrace kindly.

"So, we've got an hour on our hands," Gabriel reminds me, hinting we'll have to come back to grab Ellie and River. As he speaks, I toss my head back on his toned bicep. I swear he works out too much for an unpopular loser. "What would you like to do?"

I groan, dragging my chin down to my chest. "Why do I have to decide? You know I hate making decisions."

"We're taking second lunch here, Lynn. It isn't life or death, you weirdo," Gabe chortles.

"Can we just go get a coffee? I feel like I'm about to pass out." For effect, I pretend to faint, nearly going complete limp before his arms can hoist me back up.

Rolling his dark eyes, my partner in crime pulls a set of keys from his pocket, swinging the lanyard around his fingers while we head towards a tattered white truck being held together by zip ties, duct tape, and love. "You and Elle with your coffee addiction."

"Could be meth," I retort.

Snorting, Gabe slips a key into the slit on the driver's side. I stand on the opposite, sending a humored smile. "Yeah, as if that's any worse."

We make it to the local coffee shop in no time. Luckily for us, the lunch rush hour in this town ends just as we hit the road if we avoid the main highways that is. Gabe's truck and the coffee shop have a similar aesthetic: crowded, old, falling apart with an overwhelming sense of home and personality. I can't count how many times I've broken down and received well off advice from him in both locations. It feels safe here and being around him. Gabe's like the much older brother (by a month) that I never had. We're both complete, utter assholes to each other about 60% of the time, enforcing the sibling-like bond we have.

"Thank you," I say sweetly to the barista as he places my cold brew in front of me and Gabe's hot chocolate in front of him. Mimicking my gratitude, Gabe gives his thanks as the employee shuffled away, awkwardly patting at his frizzy hair.

We both take a sip and visibly relax. "So, the first day of our last year of high school." Gabe is also the mom friend. "Tell me, dear, how were all your classes?"

"Oh, dearest mother, I feel so content with my choices," I reply with a vintage accent, acting as though my voiced popped in from the 1920s. "How ever will I pick a favorite?"

Wiggling his brows, Gabe replies, "I hear someone landed themselves in the hottest teacher's class."

Prompting to return to my normal voice, I roll my eyes, a huff expelling from my diaphragm. "He's definitely a piece of eye candy, I'll tell you that."

"Took four years to figure that one out? I didn't realize unobservant you are." Taking a pause, Gabe brings to smirk widely. "Maybe that's why you haven't asked River out yet."

My eyes grow wide, my skin goes red. Looking at anywhere other than Gabe's eyes and smirking lips is a must. "I don't know—"

"Lynn, everyone knows."

"Sure, but he doesn't." I pause. "Wait, does he?"

"Dude, no, of course, he doesn't. He still thinks you're heartbroken over Trinity."

Ah, yes, Trinity. Who knew a happy year and two months could be wholly demolished beyond reconciliation in a single weekend? Certain not I, as I have spent the past three months moving on and over the ordeal. An annoyed grunt leads my cheek to rest in my fist. "He thinks I'm not over it?"

Gabe leans forwards. "None of us do, Lynn."

I stay silent.

"What happened... you didn't deserve that. Hell, Hitler wouldn't have deserved that. Probably."

"Weeeeell—"

"Point is, I know you're still trying to find a way to heal. You've done a damn good job, duh. But River thinks you're still in love with her."

"Ugh. I'd rather eat hairy horse shit than see her ever again."

Gabriel nods, "I was hoping that would be the case."

Knocking my knuckles on the wooden table, I let out an exaggerated sigh. "Man, I'm tired."

"You know we're all here for you, right?" Gabe asks, leaning in just a few inches. I want to roll my eyes, tell him that he worries too much, but I can't. I can't tell him, not because I want him to shut up or to change the topic, but because he knows me. To Gabe, I'm an open book.

I run out of words to say relating to the topic. The breakup is old news, everything following the incident becoming irrelevant memories and irreplaceable time. I'm kidding myself when I say I've moved on entirely because Gabriel is right: I haven't. Sometimes my thoughts get stuck on what I could have done better or what I should have done to convince her to stay. Despite these annoying blips, I know deep down that it was inevitable, that her consistent cheating and the emotional manipulation would only surface for everyone to see in due time. If they hadn't— which I tried to keep from happening— I have a gut-wrenching feeling I'd still be in the situation. I had a feeling Trinity and me wouldn't last, but it wasn't until after things ended did I realize how well she had me wrapped around her finger. It's taken months to find my way out of her web, but I now face the scary journey of recovery. Thankfully, the process has not been as hard as I anticipated. After all, living two cities away certainly helps.

"Yeah, I know. I'm still going through the motions. I just want it to speed up, you know?"

Smirking and pulling his hand back, Gabriel replies, "Maybe a Tinder will help?"

My nose wrinkles at the mere consideration. Hooking up, dating apps, meeting strangers behind a phone— not really my thing. "Nah, I'll pass on that offer, thanks."

"Suit yourself."

"Hmm, maybe I'll look into a sugar daddy site. Money from older men might make me feel a bit better."

Gabriel takes a sip of his hot chocolate, grinning. "Well, you have an interesting way with teachers. If you're struggling in a particular class, maybe that little fantasy of yours will come true."

"Oh yes, I can't wait to hop on Mr. Riley's seventy-year-old dick."

"Mhmm, yummy."

At this, I bark into a laughing-while-painfully-cringing fit. Never being a fan of the phrase "yummy" and having it tied to a man that's so old he's basically decaying, I find every part of this new conversation revoltingly hilarious. I guess my sudden outburst of laughter caught Gabe off guard, staring at me with a shocked grin and fixing the infamous beanie he wears. I couldn't count how many times I've seen him without; you can't count to zero.

"It really wasn't that funny," he says with a small hiccup of laughter in his voice.

I settle myself now that I feel the eyes of everyone in the coffee shop staring. "You're right, but something about it made me crack." I flip my phone over to check the time. "Should we be getting back? They've got twenty minutes left."

Gabe nods and lets out a content sigh. "Yeah, I guess so."

We decide to chug the rest of our beverages quickly— now room temperature and not as satisfying— before heading back out into the world. Away in the parking lot, the truck seems to beckon us to its forty-year-old, duct-tape-bound seats. As Gabe unlocks the truck doors, I let out a content sign and stare up at the sky. Above, the sun beams down on us and, like an idiot, I managed to look directly into it. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust but by that point, a dark cloud rolled over the blinding, distant star.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

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angstsfordays · 5 years ago

Text

Stay With Me

Summary: You liked Steve. No, you still like Steve. When you finally confessed, he could not give you a definite answer. Your heart broke. But what happens when you came face to face with Steve the very next day, only this time he wasn’t really your Steve….

Pairing: Steve rogers x Enhanced!reader (Y/N)

Warnings: FLUFF. ANGST. MORE FLUFF. AND PERHAPS TEARS. A couple of swear words. Death.

Word count: 8987

Notes: HI EVERYBODY! This is my first Marvel fanfiction! I wrote fanfics before, but I have always been much more of a reader. After a 1.5 year hiatus, I felt compelled to write again. Hope everyone enjoys this piece. I still am trying to establish myself as a rookie writer.

This is AU and doesn’t fall in any of the MCU timeline. Let’s just assume that the world is currently at peace from Thanos and this is just set in an everyday Avengers timeline. A like, reblog or comment will be deeply appreciated :)

———————————————————————

You woke up with an unnerving feeling in your chest. You wondered why and then you were reminded of the day before. You had confessed to Steve. Yes that Steve, the Steve Rogers. Captain America. Your boss. Your hopeless crush. You joined the Avengers not too long ago. It had been over two years. You were an agent of SHIELD, but more importantly an enhanced individual.

You always had your powers since you were young but hid it to blend in. When you’re 20, you used your powers for the first time to save someone in danger. You ended up on SHIELD’s radar and then recruited into the academy.

You undergone training to become a SHIELD operative under Phil Coulson’s tutelage and was recognised to be an outstanding agent. However, more so often, you were not a stickler for rules and had gone off book several times in operations.

This placed you on a thin line to getting kicked out of the academy, but you always had the backing of Phil who grown a soft spot. You reminded him of his younger days and also his fellow colleague, Melinda May whom put the interests of saving lives at the forefront in their work.

When the Battle of New York happened, you were broken. Mainly because you lost your mentor and your dearest friend. You were teetering on quitting when Phil died in the line of duty. Director Fury pulled you back, reminding you of Phil’s sacrifice and how Phil thought the world of you, feeling that you had much potential to unfold. You continued working under Director Fury’s orders, working on special missions.

When SHIELD was taken down by HYDRA from the inside, you didn’t know who to trust. All you knew was that Director Fury had seemingly been assassinated. You wanted to find out what happened, but plans deviated when you realised you were on HYDRA’s radar. Your powers were of great interest to them and you were wanted. You had to abandon the place you felt like home and went into hiding.

A couple of years later, you resurfaced. You found yourself facing the Avengers while they were on a mission. No you were fighting not against them, instead you stumbled upon them while you were on the run. That’s when you saw Steve Rogers for the first time. It didn’t feel like the first time though.

Perhaps it was because you heard so much about him from Phil that you felt you already knew him. A smile formed on your face when you recalled Phil’s rambling of his love for the war hero. It was one of those moments when you saw him as the real Phil, and not just Agent Coulson- your supervising officer.

A HYDRA agent was going to aim for Steve from a hidden spot and you almost flew in to intervene. You knocked out the agent with your gloved fists engulfed in high density energy. You remembered staring into the sparkling blue eyes of Steve Rogers for the first time. His eyes widened at the sight of you- wondering who you were and what were you doing.

You heard backup coming and the two of you fought off a couple more HYDRA agents together. It was as if you had been working together your whole life, the two of you fought in sync. You covered for him and he did so for you. There was an unspoken synergy that happened between you two. When the last HDYRA agent went down, you two finally looked at each other once more. Panting and out of breath, you hunched over trying to catch your breath.

You heard his footsteps coming closer, as if to check on you. You looked up at him, and he took his helmet off. His crop but luscious blonde locks fell over.

“Hey, are you alright-” You heard his voice for the first time. It was not really; you had seen him before and heard him before. You remembered the video clips that were played in classes at the academy. SHIELD was founded on the legacy of Captain America afterall. But this was different. You heart started to beat wildly, knowing that he was speaking to you.

“Steve, are you alright?” Another voice appeared. It was familiar. You two both spun your heads in the same direction to see a scarlet head emerging in your sight. Natasha Romanoff. You had seen her before back at SHIELD. Phil had worked together with her and Agent Barton several times. You were introduced once to them before as his mentee.

“Who’s that with you?” She spoke once more. You started to panic, what was this situation with you, Captain America and Black Widow? You were supposed to be in hiding from the HYDRA operatives that came to capture you. Should you seek refuge with the Avengers? Would they keep you safe? You were not a hundred percent sure. You felt that you were still safest alone.

That’s why you decided to take flight. Literally. Because with your powers, you managed to push yourself off the ground and into the air, landing far away from where the two avenger members were.

The next time you saw Steve was in your apartment. You came home to see him standing in your kitchen. You dropped your bag of groceries and let out a scream that would have your neighbours appalled. Your powers came out almost immediately in defense and Steve had to duck when a shot of energy aimed at the kitchen cabinet behind him.

He raised both his hands in defense and assured he meant no harm. He explained that Natasha had helped him to track you down. He understood your situation and offered you a place in the Avengers compound. No more hiding and no more fear of surviving.

All previous resistance thrown out of the window, the sincerity in his eyes and voice won you over almost immediately. You knew not to trust people easily, that much Phil has taught you but how could you not when it was Steve Rogers.

So you then found yourself becoming a part of the Avengers. You blended into the group seamlessly, like you were an old-time friend. You had gotten closer to Natasha who was once an intimidating senior agent in your eyes. You became fast friends with Wanda whom you bonded over the love of food. More so of her cooking and you being the taste tester.

Sam and Bucky welcomed you into their group especially when you find yourself the buffer between their bickering. You always went along with Tony Stark’s antics and he saw you as a little sister. Bruce and you have a polite relationship, not having much in common but you still got along with him in the group.

Vision and you have a pretty interesting relationship, you found yourself as a life sensei to him whenever he was curious about the human way of life. You only met Thor a few times but you two had a friendly relationship whenever he visited Earth. He felt like another older brother to you.

Now. Where does that leave Steve Rogers? The man who brought you into this new life. You regarded him as your leader, captain and comrade. You wanted to impress him especially since he offered you a new chance in life. You always made sure you did your best during missions so as not to disappoint him. You wanted to be in his good books. You wanted him to like you as a teammate and maybe more?

You didn’t know when you started to have feelings for the American hero, but you believed it was gradual.

When you saw him in the morning eating disgusting plain oats, you offered to whip up some fluffy blueberry pancakes (which you learnt how to from Wanda). When you see his brows knitted to get his Netflix account created, you chuckled and decided to help the poor guy out. When he found in himself from unwanted attention at Tony’s gatherings, you slid in smoothly between him and the other party, coming up with smooth lies to help him out of an awkward bind.

You didn’t know why you wanted to do all of those things. Were you being nice? Or perhaps you wanted to be nice to him? He was on your mind most of the time. How can I make a good impression? How can I get closer to him? Your mind was always boggling with such thoughts.

Whenever he was in the room, your eyes always wandered off to him. You tried to subtly get closer to him- sitting beside him during movie nights, sitting across him during meetings. It was those little things that made you feel like you could signal your presence to him. You wanted him to notice you just as much you did for him. Of course, these things did not go unnoticed. Unfortunately, not by said man himself but everyone else in your inner circle.

Natasha caught your longing look at Steve one movie night, and she smirked to herself. She nudged your hips the next morning in the kitchen when Steve walked into the room. She gave you an all-knowing smile and your eyes widened in horror. How? You mouthed the word to her, and she just shrugged while looking all smug.

Wanda was the next one to know you both baked together for Valentine’s Day. You two were baking for everyone in the team. You decided to make a special cookie, she noted. One in the shape of a heart and with familiar colours of red, white and blue icing. Steve, Bucky and Sam were walking in from their workout in the gym when they smelt the scent of freshly baked goods.

Sam’s hands were reaching out for your special cookie when you turned your back to wash your hands in the sink. You let out a shrill scream of horror when you saw Sam picking it up and bringing it closer to his lips.

“STOP RIGHT THERE!” The three soldiers almost jumped back at your voice and Sam raised his other hand in surrender. You took your cookie out of his hands and dusted it off as if his touch sullied the baked biscuit.

“This is not yours, Sam. You can have those.” You pointed over to the other batch of cookies. They were all smaller in sizes, in the regular circular shape with generic red and pink icing drawn in heart shapes on the surface.

“What? Then the heck it that cookie for?” Sam retorted, almost offended.

You grinned sheepishly when you directed your eyes at a certain blonde soldier. Your previous bravado shaken as you tried to find your voice to speak. You swore your hands were trembling and you tried hard to not break the palm sized heart shaped cookie in your hands.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Steve. I uh made this for you.” Yes. You got the words out. The expressions on the faces of the other three people in the room would have been hilarious but they were not in your sight. You only had eyes for one person.

“What? How come he gets a special cookie from the rest of us? Now that’s just discrimination.” Sam quipped. Bucky shook his head like he could not believe how dumb Sam could even be. Wanda had to bite her lips back, when she realised what was going on all along. Oh my dear Y/N…she thought.

“Would you accept my it?” You added nervously when you noticed Steve did not give a response.

“Uh, thank you Y/N. That’s really nice of you.” Steve answered as politely as he usually did and took the cookie from your hands. When Steve just stopped at that response, Bucky looked like he was going to die from the stupidity of the men in the room except for him. Bucky also knew there and then what was happening. He could not believe his best friend was so oblivious.

“Hey, that’s unfair. I want one.” Sam whined almost like a child. Bucky face palmed himself and grunted.

You were a little disappointed at Steve’s response, nice of you? Urgh, you secretly wished he had more to say. Did you put him on a spot in front of his friends? How stupid could you have gotten?

“Fine fine, geez I will make a falcon-themed one for you, You big baby.” You huffed in annoyance, but also to mainly mask your disappointment. You quickly grabbed a piping bag. “Would you like one too, Bucky?” You mustered a smile on your face to make it seem like you were not affected by Steve’s response at all. Bucky gave you a look like he knew- he knew what’s up and he gave you a sorry look.

“Sure doll, I would love one.” Bucky said in hopes of making you feel better. You felt a hand on your shoulder and turned to see Wanda to give you a comforting smile. You fought to hold back the tears welling up in your eyes.

But that was not your actual confession to Steve.———————————————————————

That time came during an Avenger’s game night. The team was playing truth and dare Jenga. It was your turn and you hoped you gotten something that would not be too difficult to do.

“Tell the person across you something that you always wanted to say to them.”

You looked up immediately and were met with cerulean blue eyes. Your breath hitched when you realised who it was.

You cursed in your head and perhaps even muttered it under your breath. You felt the eyes of the rest of your teammates intently on you. After a minute, Tony started to get impatient.

“Come on kid, what do you want to say to Capsicle? There should be plenty right? If not drink up.” Oh boy, if only Tony knew. You looked nervously elsewhere and locked eyes with Natasha beside you. Your eyes then fleet towards Wanda who looked concerned and then to Bucky who almost looked nervous for you. Your legs were getting jumpy and then your hands lunged forward to grab the bottle of whiskey in front of you.

A series of ‘Nos’ came up, but you couldn’t hear them clearly as you drowned down the liquid. It tasted like fire down your throat and it almost burned. You stumbled backwards as you tried to recover your footing.

“Really, Y/N? You rather drink up than say something to Cap?” Tony jested. “By the way, you just drank Thor’s special Asgardian liquor by mistake.”

“What?” You let out a loud exclamation and you turned the bottle to see a flask bottle that you recognised to have been Thor’s.

“Oh boy.” A sudden wave of adrenaline surged through you and you had to close your eyes to gain your bearings once more. You opened your eyes to meet Steve’s eyes once more. You did not know what was happening next. The words left your mouth before you could even formulate it in your head.

“I LIKE YOU SO MUCH!” What was going on? You didn’t mean to say this out loud?! Why were you even saying it? You already drank to pass saying the truth. Why couldn’t you control yourself?

“I REALLY REALLY REALLY LIKE YOU, STEVE ROGERS.” You declared your love once more and you were shocked by your boldness. Everyone else was reeling in their seats as they looked at the situation unfolding in front of them. Tony Stark could be seen muffling his laughter at Y/N’s antic while a blonde soldier, who was at the end of the confession remained stiff in expression.

“CAN’T YOU HEAR MY HEART?” Your speech was slurred as you brought your hand to clutch the side of your shirt where your heart was.

“You have super hearing, right? Can’t you hear my heart beating like crazy? Whenever I’m around you, I feel like my heart is going to jump out of my chest because I like you much!” Your mouth continued to blabber, but your mind was reeling. Control yourself Y/N! You willed yourself but you couldn’t. Stupid Asgardian alcohol.

“I can’t hide it anymore. I need to let you know! I need to let the whole word know!” You flailed your hands out in motion. “Do you know how much it hurts to like you and not letting you know? I need to get this off my chest. Right here and right now!” You put a foot up on the table and stretched your hand out to point at Steve Rogers.

“Steve Rogers! Do you want to go out with me?” You asked boldly, not caring a hoot about everyone in the room. Your mind was chastising you for being foolish, but your heart felt fulfilled from doing what it always wanted to do.

There were gasps from people in the room. A series of ‘oh my god’ and suppressed laughter from others. Sam’s jaw looked like it was going to drop to the floor. Tony at this moment couldn’t hold back himself and howled. He needed to take a swig of booze to continue watching this. Bucky looked over to his best pal who looked like he didn’t want to be anywhere else but here.

Both Natasha and Wanda had worried expressions. They were glad you were able to confess but they also knew this was not the way you would want it to go. Vision and Bruce looked like they couldn’t believe what was happening in front of their eyes.

Steve Rogers was at a loss. The last thing he expected was a confession from you. Steve was not sure how to respond. He liked you alright, but he wasn’t sure if he liked you as much as you to him. He always seen you as a friend and teammate.

He remembered how shy you were when first joined. You were wary of everything, and it was normal. He read up on your profile. He was surprised to learn you were under Agent Phil Coulson’s personal tutelage. He knew the man and thought highly of him. Natasha gave in her input, remembering you were a spunky and enthusiastic rookie agent who always seemed to put in her best efforts.

When he realised you had been on the run from HYDRA because of your powers, he knew he had to step in. It was only the right thing to do. When he first saw you, he was taken aback at the girl who covered for him. You didn’t have to. If you did, you exposed yourself to the risk of your location to HYDRA. And when the two of you fought hand in hand, he felt a weird sense of camaraderie he did not expect to find in someone he met for the first time.

He remembered when you accepted his offer, he offered his hand but instead you pulled in for a hug. He was taken aback but gave in when he felt you shaking in his arms. You let out muffled cries and Steve could feel your sense of relief that you didn’t need to hide anymore. You were safe and he would keep you safe.

You opened up to the rest of the team almost instantly, your easy-going nature made everyone comfortable about you. You had an effortless way of getting along with people and you soon became an indispensable part of the team.

However, Steve started to notice while you were getting closer with everyone, he could feel like you were keeping a distance from him. While you were still friendly with him, he could not help but to feel that you showed hesitance around him.

Sure enough, you always did nice things for him, but Steve could not help but feel you were always guarded around him. You were unafraid to be silly and goofy around the rest of the team, but he could sense you always wanted to present a good image whenever he’s around.

When you were not looking, he could see you making faces to Sam across the room when meetings get boring and draggy. It was one late night, both you and Bucky could not sleep, and you offered to help Bucky with his nightmares when Steve happened to pass by the common kitchen.

The look of excitement when you brought out an entire tea set and assortment of tea selection laid on the table. “You should give up on coffee from now on. Tea is the way to go!” You said in a matter of fact tone. You went on to talk about the benefits of tea and how they helped you especially in the line of work you were all involved in.

You went on to brew actual tea leaves for Bucky, claiming it was even better than putting a sachet in a cup of hot water. Steve couldn’t help but smile at the lengths you went for Bucky. It was nice to see Bucky having another friend aside from himself and occasionally Sam.

Steve didn’t know how long he was staring but he was snapped out of it when Bucky called him out from where he was hiding behind the wall. When your head snapped to see Steve, your carefree smile dropped and became one that was more reserved.

“Uh, hey Steve.” You greeted him. “Tea?” You asked him as you held up the pot. Sure why not, Steve thought.

The three of you began to have a heart to heart late night talk. Your enthusiasm from earlier mellowed but you still talked easily with Bucky and him. Steve noticed your eyes were always looking towards Bucky. Did you like him? Steve saw you throwing glances every now and then, but you kept your eyes on Bucky, as if wanting to avoid having to look at him. You laughed easily at Bucky’s sardonic humour and even rested your head on his arm a couple of times in affection.

You had to like Bucky right? Steve never seen you so close to another guy in the team, except for Tony and Sam whom he knew you had sibling like relationships with. Steve knew it, Bucky always got the girl.

Even back in the 30s’. Bucky had an effortless charm about him, and even after all he had gone through, he never lost his appeal. Steve knew about the glances that some of the female staff in the compound had whenever Bucky stepped into the room.

Steve suddenly felt like the scrawny kid back in Brooklyn. The one who always gotten put aside. The one who was always forgotten. Even after the serum, Steve felt like this from time to time. Steve did know he had gotten more attractive with his increased height and bigger build, but he couldn’t help to wonder if that was all he had.

He was aware of the looks he received by female staff too in the Avengers compound, but he was also aware that they were attracted to Captain America and not Steve Rogers.

Steve felt like you weren’t like the rest. Sure, you did nice things for him and smiled at him everytime you two met, but Steve felt like you were genuine. Yes, they were more muted than what you did for the rest of the team, but he did felt you were not just fawning over him. You were just nice like that.

He did secretly hoped you could be less guarded around him though. Was he intimidating? Was he not approachable? Steve thought long and hard about this once in a while.

Back to the confession, Steve could not believe what he was hearing. You liked him all this while? It wasn’t Bucky? But how? But why? He thought you liked Bucky for sure! And here you are, declaring your crush for him in front of everyone like it was nothing. Yes, you did drink Thor’s special mead but it was a complete flip of how you usually were around him.

What was he supposed to say? You were drunk. Steve didn’t even know if you were even thinking straight. But your eyes. Your eyes were boring straight to his and he realised this was the longest that you have looked him in the eyes without shying away.

“Come on, Rogers. Don’t leave a girl hanging. Give her an answer.” Tony egged on, the only one amused in this entire situation.

“I-uh…” Steve looked to his best pal and Bucky could only returned a look that said ‘It’s all up to you, punk’.

“Y/N, you are drunk. You should return to your room.” Steve instantly regretted his words when he saw the sullen look on your face. You looked like you were crushed, and he felt horrible.

“I’m not drunk!” You retorted almost defiantly. “I’m wide awake. I’m woke.” You claimed.

“Do you not like me? Am I that unlikable?” You added on in a whimpering tone. You turned to your side and grabbed Bucky by the collar.

“Why? Why does he not like me?” You cried almost like a child who didn’t get she wanted. Bucky decided to intervene and hoist you over his shoulders. “Okay time for you to be in bed.”

“Put me down Bucky! I am perfectly capable of walking. I don’t want my face to meet your ass!” You fought back as you started throwing fists at Bucky’s backside to get him to let you down. You didn’t remember the events of that night after Bucky dropped you on your bed. You did have an inkling memory of Wanda and Natasha helping you get ready for bed.

———————————————————————

Shit, you thought. Every memory came back rushing back to you and you squished your face to the pillow. You didn’t want to face the music. You didn’t even want to step out of your room to face the consequences of your drunkenness. What have you done? Every last possibility of your relationship with Steve had been tossed out the window.

Should you quit? Pack up and run away? You didn’t think you could ever stand to be around him anymore. Your mind then wandered to the pounding headache from the hangover you acquired. You turned your face to the side to see a glass of water and two aspirin pills. You wandered who left them there. Must be either Wanda or Nat.

You took the pills and down them with the glass of water. You sat up to get your bearings and let out a sigh. Woah, you stunk of alcohol. A bath sounded nice at this moment. You dragged yourself with every ounce of energy left in your body and struggled to fill the tub with warm water. You didn’t know how you managed but you went over to your cabinet to grab some relaxing essential oils to be added into your bath.

Yes that bath was helpful indeed. After you rinsed off, you changed into a long-sleeved cropped Henley and loose sweats. You were drying your hair as you mulled over what happened last night.

What were you supposed to do? You could feel the hunger growling in your stomach. You asked Friday for the time and it was well over 2pm. You then asked for the locations of everyone in the team. If you wanted to avoid social interactions, you needed to come up with a plan. Bucky and Sam were training new recruits. Nat, Wanda and Vision were out while Tony ad Bruce were in the lab. Steve was in his office.

That sounded good, you could sneak into the kitchen, make a sandwich or something and get the hell out in 10 minutes tops. As quickly as you could, you made sure to make a sound even while sprinting to the kitchen. When you assessed that the coast was clear, you quickly opened the fridge and cabinets to take out what you want.

You messily put a sandwich together and even grabbed an instant ramen bowl. You placed everything on a tray and quickly returned to your room. You wolfed down on the sustenance as if you didn’t eat for days. The soup from the ramen cured was a warm welcome for your stomach. You placed your tray aside and lay on your bed. What next?

You walked over to the toilet to relieve yourself once more when you suddenly felt the ground shaking. You shot up in surprise and quickly cleaned up.

“Friday, what happened?” You asked worriedly.

“There has been an explosion down in lab beside the garage.” Friday answered immediately.

“Are Tony and Bruce okay?” You asked after the Science bros.

“Yes, their vitals show no danger. However, Captain Rogers was also present when the explosion occurred.” Steve was there too?

“I cannot detect his-” Friday spoke once more, but you didn’t hear the end of it as your door flew open and you raced down to the lab.

Tony and Bruce came into view as they stood around the weird panels in the lab. There was a faint smoke in the air.

“Woah what happened?” You could hear Sam’s voice behind you, and you turned to see Bucky present too. The three of you walked over to the scene hurriedly to examine what happened.

“Where’s Steve? I heard he was also-” Your sentence was interrupted by a coughing. The voice sounded familiar, but something was different. The smoke cleared to reveal….

“Yo Steve, what happened?!” Sam exclaimed at the sight standing in front of him. All eyes turned to see Steve Rogers only much much older in physical appearance. It would match with his actual age but you couldn’t believe your eyes.

The Steve in front of you looked shocked at the sight of everyone. He also had a look of longing like he had not seen everyone in a long time.

“Shit, we made Cap old!” Tony gasped aloud.

“Steve, you there?” Bucky stepped forward to place his hands on the shoulder of his old friend. Your attention was brought to the height difference. Steve was no longer the same height range as Bucky. He in fact, looked smaller. His grey hair was combed neatly and you could see the wrinkles adorned on his face. His blue eyes were still sparkling, you thought. Steve was dressed warmly in several layers on top and he turned his head slowly to take in his surroundings.

His eyes landed on you and started to panic. Last night’s events came rushing back to you and you then realised you didn’t want to face him. You turned your heels to leave immediately but you were stopped in your tracks.

“Wait, Y/N. Please don’t go.” The voice that came out of him sounded so frail that to didn’t had the heart to continue walking.

Your body turned back to face future Steve and he was slowly making his way to you. As you got closer, you realised the two of you were almost of the same height. Future Steve went in for a hug without any other words. Though he was much smaller, his hug was still firm. Your eyes widened at his actions and you awkwardly returned it with your arms wrapped under his arms.

“It’s so good to see you again. I missed you so much.” Future Steve muttered as he leaned his face into the crook of your neck. His voice shook almost like he was holding back tears.

“Again? What do you mean again?” Bruce took the words right out of your mouth. Steve reluctantly let go of you and turned to face the rest of the people in the room.

“What year is this?” Future Steve asked. Bruce gave the answer to which future Steve let out a short laugh.

“That long, huh. 50 years I see.” He spoke once more.

“50 years? Wait a minute, are you from the future?” Sam asked incredulously. Future Steve didn’t gave an answer but the silence that followed confirmed our suspicions.

“So if Cap here is from 50 years into the future, where does leave the Cap in our timeline?” Tony inquired. Old Steve gave a shrug.

“You always make the impossible seem possible, Tony.”

“Perhaps, they switched places.” Bruce deduced. He then went on rambling how Tony and himself were experimenting with the idea of time travel and different universe. The original Steve was walking in to talk to Tony when the blast had happened and he got caught in it, which all led to the current situation.

“Can we get him back?” Bucky spoke up, looking over to long-time friend.

“We can try but we will need time to work out the mechanics and see when we have gone wrong. We cannot guarantee how long it would take.” Bruce answered.

“Friday, you got all of this on tape right? I cannot wait to show out Cap this footage when he gets back.” Tony jested and you turned to him with an annoyed expression.

“This is serious Tony. You better fix this!”

“Geez kid, cut me some slack.” He rolled his eyes. “So what are we going to do with this Cap?” He pointed over to the future Steve standing beside me.

“We can take him back to the common room, let him get comfortable while you fix your machine. Best to not let anyone else know about this outside of our circle.” Bucky remarked before gesturing for Steve to follow him. Sam was still reeling in surprise as he assessed future Steve.

You stood rooted to the ground, unsure what to do. Should you follow Sam and Bucky with future Steve? You were still haunted by what happened last night. Well this Steve didn’t know what happened, but you couldn’t help but to feel embarrassed still.

“Y/N, are you coming?” Bucky offered you to join. You were about to reject his offer, make up an excuse to go back to your room when someone grabbed hold of your hand.

You looked to see future Steve holding your hand gently with his wrinkled hands. You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks and ears. He was gazing into your eyes with a shy smile.

“Walk with me?” He asked and you swore you wanted to melt into a puddle.

“Me?” You were sure you looked confused at the transition of what was happening. Future Steve chuckled and continued walking on, pulling you with him. Bucky who witnessed this smiled to himself and Sam continued to look baffled at everything.

His hand felt warm and soft, you thought. Unconsciously, your other hand went to hold his arm. You were shy to meet future Steve’s gaze especially since you were now the same height as him. It was much more intense than looking at him now.

All of you walked silently to the common room. Everyone sat around the dining table, you offered to make coffee but future Steve held onto your hand as you stood up to walk over to the pantry.

“I would like some tea, if you don’t mind. The one with actual leaves and not just the tea bag.” His face crinkled as he smiled at you.

“Uh sure- you two want some coffee?” You turned to the other two soldiers. The two went along with Steve’s request for tea and you went to find the tea set stored in the cabinet.

You placed the tea set in the centre of the table. It was a clay tea set that was gifted to you by your Bucky as your Secret Santa last Christmas. Nat and Wanda gave their input on the design.

You got the boiled water ready to rinse the teapot and cups. Following this you started to brew the tea as you added the tea leaves into the pot and added the hot water. You rinsed the first batch of brewed tea once before making the second batch that was prepared for drinking.

You were honestly nervous even though you done this hundreds of times. Somehow having future Steve watching over you made you wary of your movements. There was a good few minutes of silence before you poured the tea into the small teacups and offering it to everyone. Future Steve appreciated the teacup in his hands before blowing on it and taking a sip.

“Y/N, it always tastes the best when you made it.” Future Steve turned to me again with a sweet smile. Shit, Steve was still adorable even beyond his years. Calm down your heart, Y/N!

“So Cap, what’s life like 50 years down the road?” Sam decided to break the ice. Future Steve laughed at his bluntness before answering. It felt like nothing changed. Even while this Steve has aged, the three soldiers fell back into easy conversation.

Sam was curious about himself and tried to pry information out of future Steve. Future Steve warned that knowing the future may not be a good idea. He did throw in several teasing remarks that Sam and Bucky will continue to argue in their old age in front of their grandchildren.

Bucky was surprised that he would even have his own family in the future. He was about to ask Steve about his own when Bucky’s eyes wandered to Steve’s left hand, a silver band resting on one of his fingers.

“Guess we’re not the only ones who had our own families.” Bucky remarked smugly as he nodded his head to future Steve’s wedding band. Future Steve thumbed over his wedding band before sneaking a glance over to you.

“Well, uh-yes I did. But-” The idea of Steve married was not impossible, I mean after all he was such a great catch. You were pretty sure Steve finally gotten a nice girl to settle down with. The gnawing feeling in your chest returned. Damn, this hurts more than you thought. You just wished Steve had a happy and fulfilling life.

You stood up abruptly from your seat, almost seething with jealousy. You couldn’t help it. The feelings from yesterday were still raw and you couldn’t handle the truth if future Steve were to talk about his happy married life.

Your abrupt action caused the chair to screech as it was pushed back. You felt the eyes of all three soldiers on you and you hasten to collect the tea set to mask your reaction. You hurriedly walked over to the sink to wash your tea set, leaving it to air dry.

“I’m going off for a walk. See you boys later.” You quickly waved off before you transitioned to a brisk walk to the elevator. When you exit one of the doors of the compound, you headed straight for the clearing near the lake. It was your secret spot that you had claimed as your own. You always came here when your mind and heart were heavy.

You had a bench secretly installed so that you could sit there and gaze into the sunset on occasions. You remembered ordering it on Tony’s card and had to bring it out to the clearing when everyone was still asleep in the early morning, You laughed silently at your own antics.

You laid on your side on the bench, propping your head up with your arms and you dazed off into the lake in front of you. You didn’t know how long you were lying down but you wished you had brought your phone and earpiece to pass the time.

“I guess even the serum cannot help me at this age. Way to make an old man come after you, Y/N.” Your ears perked up at his voice and in a moment of surprise, rolled forward and off the bench.

“What the fu-” You exclaimed when your body hit the ground.

“Language. Although, many reminders wouldn’t have stopped you anyway.” You couldn’t believe who had followed you to your secret spot. Moreover, how did he know? Even Friday didn’t know! Or did she?

“Steve? What are you doing here?” You asked in a panic as you gathered yourself, brushing the dirt off your knees and elbows.

“Are you alright? That was not a pretty fall.” Future Steve now stood in front of you, his eyes were worried and concerned. His hands reached out to examine the extent of your injuries and was relieved to know that they were nothing major.

“How did you know I will be here? Nobody knows about this spot except for me.” You said.

“Well doll, you were not that subtle moving the bench across the hallway at 5am. Besides, I was already awake at that time” He spoke in a fond tone as he recalled the memory. “Curiosity got the better of me and I decided to follow the girl who was carrying a bench larger than herself.”

You cringed at the exposure of your secret and grimaced at how foolish you must have been in Steve’s eyes.

“I won’t blame you for keeping this place a secret. It is beautiful.” Future Steve spoke with a lingering gaze towards the lake and the surrounding flora. He then gestured for you to sit beside him and you reluctantly did, unsure of what to do either. You made sure that there was a gap between the two of you. You looked anywhere else except for him and didn’t what to say in the following silence.

“What would it take for you to look at me? Am I that unlikeable in your eyes?” Future Steve first broke the silence.

“No, I would never!” You immediately countered. You were shocked at how loud you were and reminded yourself to calm the f down. “I mean who would not like you?!” You gestured dramatically as your hands moved up and down at him. Steve inched closer to you and placed his hands over yours where were resting on your lap.

“I am glad to hear that, Y/N.” You looked into his eyes and had to avert them immediately before you feel like your heart would explode. You looked down to see his wedding band in your lap and you were reminded once more of what made you came out to the lake in the first place.

“Hopefully, Tony and Bruce can come up with a way to get you back to your time. I’m sure you’re missing your family.” You said to future Steve to which he shook his head.

“Not really actually. It’s nice to see all of you young again, reminds me of the good times where we were all together. I lost some people in my time and am glad to see them once again.”

“Oh, did we not all live to an old age like you?” Future Steve’s jaw clenched at your remark and you immediately realised you hit a nerve. “I’m so sorry-” You started apologising before future Steve waved you off, reassuring that it was fine. You could feel the grip of his hands tightened around yours.

“You must have been shocked to see me like this.” Future Steve looked over at himself.

“Shock would not have been the word, surprised was more accurate.” I corrected him.

“Still, you couldn’t have believed that the big and strong Captain America actually looked like this in his old age, right? The serum’s effects waned as I got older in age. I still am strong for someone my age, but my physique reverted back to my pre-serum days.” Future Steve said despondently.

“Hey, don’t say! Who cares about Captain America?” You retorted at his words. “All I see is adorable grandpa Steve Rogers. You’re way cuter like this!” You even emphasized your point when you grabbed his arm and laid your head on his shoulders. If it was the current Steve, you wouldn’t have dared to do any of this. But this Steve right here surprisingly made you feel comfortable around him.

You were still nervous knowing that he was still Steve, but somehow future Steve looked less intimidating.

“You’re still the same as ever. I missed you so much.” Future Steve brought your hands up to lips for a kiss. Now this shocked you as you couldn’t help but feel that this gesture meant more. You quickly withdrew your hands and saw the crestfallen look on his face.

“Look, Steve. I really appreciate you, but I don’t think this is appropriate.” The expression on his face told you he was hurt by your words. “You’re married, Steve.” You pointed to his wedding band.

Future Steve looked down to his wedding band and then his eyes went back to you. A ghost of a smile formed on his face and he shook his head. “I’m sorry if I came off weird. It’s just been such a long time since I saw you- I mean the younger version of you. My emotions took over, I apologise.”

“No-no don’t be sorry. I understand, sort of.” You rubbed the back of your ned in awkwardness. After a while, the two of you decided to head back to the compound. Future Steve offered you his arm and you took it as the both of you enjoyed the walk back in comfortable silence.

“Hey old man, Bruce and I might have figured it out. I think we can send you back.” You and future Steve looked at each other, both sending unwilling looks as if your time together was too short.

“I guess this is goodbye.” You said in a disappointed tone.

“It’s alright, love. I promise we will see each other again.” Future Steve cradled your face with one of his hands. You wondered what he meant, and did he just called you love?!

Future Steve went over to say goodbye to Bucky and Sam, giving each other hugs and claps on the back. Future Steve gave a small salute to Tony and Bruce to which they returned with a nod. He walked over to a raised platform and shifted in his feet to get comfortable. He looked over you once more.

You didn’t know why but you started to have tears forming in your eyes. You hesitantly raise your hands to give a weak wave. Future Steve smiled fondly and returned the gesture. He started to mouth words in your direction but before you could figure out what you wanted to say, a blinding light took over.

You shield your eyes from the light and turned sideways as you felt a rush of smoke and wind. You blinked your eyes repeatedly as you take in the sight before you. Gone was future Steve and…..

“Welcome back Cap!” Sam exclaimed excitedly at seeing his friend again.

“Quick question, Rogers. Where were you?” Tony chimed in as he walked over to Steve. “We met an older version of you 50 years down the road.” Tony replied and he waved up a screen to show a photo of future Steve in the garage with everyone.

“Oh I was somewhere, but it didn’t look like it was far off from this era. Everything looked the same. I wasn’t sure where I was until I saw a date somewhere.” Steve seemed like he was trying to phrase his response carefully and he looked back at Tony.

His eyes then swerved over to where Bucky, Sam and you were standing. He started striding forward and you were sure he was going over to Bucky and Sam. Your feet decided to shuffle backwards once you recalled what happened between you and this version of Steve just yesterday. You made to turn back when you felt yourself being pulled back into an embrace.

You were pushed against a solid mass of muscle; you didn’t need to look up because you knew who it was. Steve wrapped his arms tightly around you, seeming to not let you go anytime soon.

“Stefve-” Your voice was muffled against his shirt. You weren’t sure where to place your hands and you were sure it could have felt your heart being wildly against his own chest. Steve placed his head in the crook of your neck and took in a deep breath before sighing. Talk about déjà vu.

You looked over to see the rest of the guys in the garage staring on with bambi eyes. You gestured a wave towards Bucky, signalling for help. You weren’t ready for this Steve at all!

“What’s with the Capsicles hugging Y/N today?” Tony quipped from the side.

You didn’t know how long it was but knew it was long enough for a hug to turn awkward. You tried to place your hands between Steve and yourself to create distance.

“Steve, what’s wrong?” Your voice came out squeaky as you willed yourself to look into his eyes. You were surprised to see Steve’s eyes looking red and puffy as if he had been previously crying.

“Stay with me, Y/N. Just a little while longer.” He answered and how could you say no. You obliged and eventually wrapped your arms around him, returning his hug. The rest of the guys were befuddled at what was going on but decided to let the two of you have your moment.

You could hear Sam making a comment as he walked off. “Geez what a weird day and I haven’t even had a drink yet.” Bucky scoffed and proceeded to smack his head before walking forward.

Your eyes followed him and when he caught your stare, he winked before walking off. Your brows knitted at his previous actions but then you realised you had something more important to attend to. You still had a blonde super soldier clinging on to you like a koala.

“Alright, Steve. That’s enough of a hug. This is getting weird.” Upon your words, Steve finally released you but still held onto your arms.

“About yesterday, Y/N, I-” Steve started speaking and our eyes widened in anticipation of his following words. You don’t think you could bear to hear it. You cupped your ears and immediately ran off, making gibberish noise to tune him out.

“Wait, Y/N! Please listen to what I have to say!” Steve started chasing after you. He chased after you for a good several minutes out to the compound grounds. He knew where you were heading, you didn’t know why your feet decided to bring you there but you guessed that if any form of rejection is happening, you want it away from the eyes from anyone in the compound.

“Y/N Y/L/N! Stop it right there!” You halted in your tracks.

You turned back to see Steve Rogers with both hands on his hips. You felt like child being reprimanded by a parent. “Way to make an old man chase after you, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“You’re not that old.” You quipped back at his words.

“I’m well over 100, doll.” Steve reminded you as he laughed.

“You don’t need to run away from me, Y/N. What I’m about to say, well I-” Steve started stuttering and you could see him slightly nervous.

“What is it?” You tried to encourage him. Steve’s eyes started to turn red and he was looking at the ground.

“I like you too. I really like you Y/N.” Steve finally mustered the courage to let the words out of his mouth.

“Be my girl, please? I promise to love you and protect you always.” He added on. You felt your jaw dropped at what you were hearing. No way! Did Steve return your feelings? But how? But why?

“But yesterday, the party, you didn’t, I was drunk-” Your sentences weren’t making sense, but Steve knew what you meant.

“I know and I was honestly taken aback by your confession, doll. But I did some thinking and I realised that I feel the same too. I never realised how much I did until I lost you doll.” Steve’s long legs brought him closer to and he cradled your face with both his hands.

“You didn’t lose me, what are you talking about?” His words were puzzling, what did he meant by lose? How could it even be possible? You were right here all this time.

“I just- I don’t want to let you go ever. Please stay by my side.” Steve’s words only served to confuse you further, but you couldn’t bother to think about it in greater depth. You wanted Steve and he wanted you too. You nodded. “Always.”

Steve grinned a toothy wide smile before leaning in for a kiss. You two poured all your emotions into the kiss and it made your hearts soar. When you both finally pulled apart for a breather, Steve spoke. “I can’t wait for our future together.”

———————————————————————

50 years into the future

Steve landed on a grassy patch from the combustion of Tony and Bruce’s machine. He looked over to assess his surroundings and realised that he was not in the compounds anymore.

Steve then realised he was at a cemetery and there was a bouquet of flowers that laid on the ground beside his feet. He picked up the bouquet with lavender wrapping paper and turned to examine it further.

He then looked down again, this time to a gravestone standing just a few feet away from him.

Y/N ROGERS

A DEAR WIFE.

A LOYAL FRIEND.

A FIERCE FIGHTER

1988- 2030

The words Steve read before him hit him harder than a train wreck. How could this be possible? 2030? This means that Y/N only lived till a young age of 42. That was earlier than expected. Why was his heart aching in pain?

The tears started streaming down his face before he could even comprehend them. Steve dropped to his knees in front of the gravestone and hunched over with the bouquet gripped tightly in his hands.

“Y/N…” He whispered. “I swear I will change this future.”

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