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brightlight-dazzlingeyes · 11 months ago

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CELEBRITY | chapter 6

rúben dias x original female character [+18]

SYNOPSIS: The protagonist has tried everything: acting, modeling, singing. But what got her a front page cover was being seen with a Premier League player. Unfortunately, that’s currently the least of her worries. WARNINGS: mention of kevin de bruyne x oc; slightly possessive ruben; some kisses; social media post; minors dni.

sidenote: (there’s a lot of exposition in this chapter cause i haven’t thought about this story for a while, but i ended up loving how it turned out!)

|[previous chapter]| — |[masterlist]|

CHAPTER VI — THE HARSH REALITY

The protagonist's footsteps echo in the dimly lit hallway as she makes her way to her agent's office. She pushes open the door to find a middle-aged woman with a perpetual frown, staring at her computer screen with disinterest.

"Hey, what the fuck is going on with your life?" Her agent's voice is sharp, cutting through the silence. She doesn’t bother looking in the protagonist’s direction.

The agent's office is too small, tucked away in a nondescript building. The walls are lined with shelves filled with dusty awards and memorabilia from past successes. The room is cramped, filled with stacks of papers and the faint scent of stale coffee.

A large desk dominates the room, a computer screen casting a soft glow. The agent herself sits behind the desk, a woman with short, dyed brown hair that hints at strands of gray. She wears her usual light pink button-up shirt, a touch of personal style in an otherwise professional setting.

The protagonist sits opposite her, on a chair that seems almost too small for the weight of their conversation. She fidgets nervously, her fingers tracing patterns on the armrests, trying to find the right words to explain the mess her life has become.

"I know, I know." She says, trying to calm her agent. "But things have been complicated lately. There's this person, they're threatening to release this video of me fighting with Kevin..."

"Kevin?" Her agent's eyebrows jump up in surprise. "De Bruyne? The same Kevin who recorded you without your consent? Why didn't you tell me about this before?"

As they talk, the agent's expression shifts from curiosity to concern. She leans forward, resting her elbows on the desk, her gaze locked on the protagonist.

The protagonist nods, feeling a lump form in her throat. "Yes, that Kevin. I didn't tell you because... I don't know. I guess I thought I could handle it on my own."

Her agent leans back in her chair, sighing heavily. "Look, I get that you're in a tough spot, but you need to start thinking about your career.” She takes her glasses off and rubs her eyes before putting them back on. “And now you’re being spotted with his teammate? What the actual fuck? What am I even doing here?”

Her agent takes a deep breath before shoving the knife in, as she says: "We tried everything. You told me your dreams were to be famous, remember? So we tried out acting but you're mediocre at best at that. We tried modeling but you’re too short, don’t have the profile. Then… You claimed you were a singer at heart and you know what? I could see that becoming something real, something solid.” Another deep breath. “But a Wag? Baby, that’s way out of my specialty."

The protagonist knew her agent was right, but hearing it out loud stung nonetheless.

"I know, I know." She sighs, pulling out her phone. "I just... I don't know what to do anymore."

She opens her messages with Kevin, her fingers trembling slightly as she scrolls through their recent exchanges.

Kevin: Wtf That's so creepy Someone was recording us fighting 🫥 I will find out who was it Don't worry

Protagonist: Yeah is super creepy when somebody records you without your consent right????

Kevin: 🫣 At least you're wearing clothes on this one 🤭 You should have told me about this before This involves me too

Protagonist: You're such an asshole. After what you did to me, I don't owe you shit.

Kevin: Hey 👀 Do you want to come over??

Protagonist: Ewww, no. Fuck you.

Kevin: Whatever Bitch

Her agent reads the messages, her expression turning thoughtful. "Okay, we need to be proactive about this. We need to find out who this anonymous person is and stop them before they can do any more damage."

The protagonist nods, feeling a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, she can turn this around and finally achieve the fame she's always dreamed of.

“Anything else?” The agent asks.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” The protagonist speaks softly, thinking about Lily.

“For fucks sake, just tell me!” There's a sense of urgency in her voice.

"A former friend is now my roommate, but I’ll handle this one, I’m serious." Her voice is tinged with a hint of defiance, a determination to assert control over her tumultuous life.

The mention of Lily, the new roommate, brings a moment of tension to the room. The protagonist's hesitation is palpable, a mix of fear and determination. She knows that having Lily around will only complicate things further, but she's resolved to face the challenge head-on.

"Also… About Rúben. I really like him." The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. The agent's reaction is immediate, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features.

"At least this one is single." Her tone is sharp, a subtle warning against getting too involved in yet another complicated relationship.

The agent looks like she’s at her last nerve, her patience wearing thin. She leans forward, her eyes locking onto the protagonist's.

“So here’s what I’m going to ask from you: First, you’re going to be honest with me from now on. I can’t keep finding out shit about you through the Daily Mail. Second, I wasn’t going to say anything yet but there’s big talk in the record company about finally getting your album done. So please don’t get yourself in a media circus before that, okay?”

Rúben lounges on the couch, his long limbs stretching out as if to claim more space. His body language is relaxed yet inviting. The long hours of playing had left him tired, but he made sure to make time for the protagonist. She can’t help but notice the way his shirt rides up slightly, revealing a tantalizing sliver of skin. She quickly averts her gaze, focusing on his words instead.

"So... you talked to Kev." His tone is casual, but there is an underlying confidence in his voice. "He told me." Rúben's words hang in the air, a reminder that Kevin's actions were now under Rúben's watchful eye. He wanted her to feel comfortable, to know that Kevin would only speak to her when Rúben allowed it, from now on.

The protagonist notices Rúben's slight wince as he shifts on the couch, a sign of discomfort that doesn't escape her watchful eyes. Concern creeps into her expression, her big doll-like eyes fixed on him.

"Don't look at me like that." Rúben says, his voice a mix of amusement and plea.

"Like what?" She asks innocently, tilting her head slightly.

"Like you want to give me a massage." Rúben replies, his laughter fills the room. But beneath the joke, there is hope. An invitation.

Her heart skips a beat, a flush creeping up her cheeks. She hesitates for a moment, unsure if she should take the bait. But the allure of his request was too strong to resist.

She moves closer to him, her hands finding their way to his shoulders, where she begins to knead gently, her touch firm yet tender. As soon as she lays her hands on his body, an electric charge seems to buzz between them.

Rúben's reaction is immediate; she can see the goosebumps rise on his skin, mirroring her own. The realization that he felt it too takes her breath away.

Their playful banter had shifted into something more intimate; their eyes meet, and in the moment, words become superfluous. Their undeniable attraction draws them closer, like two magnets irresistibly pulled together.

Without a word, he turns to face her, his eyes dark with longing. She leans in and their lips meet in a fierce, passionate kiss.

Time stands still as they lose themselves in each other, the world outside fading into insignificance.

They allow themselves to be consumed by their raw, primal desire.

Their lips part only briefly before meeting again in a hungry, fervent kiss. Their bodies move closer, seeking more of each other's touch.

She runs her fingers through his hair, feeling the softness of it, the tension melting away with each caress. His hands roam over her back, pulling her closer, their bodies fitting together as if they were made for each other.

Their kisses grew more urgent, more desperate, fueled by a passion that had been simmering between them for far too long. Their hearts pounding in sync with the rhythm of their desire.

Eventually, they pull apart, both breathless and flushed, their eyes locked in a shared moment of understanding.

her

liked by sarahck and 5.103 others

pov: you're witnessing the creation of a new woman (changed my lipstick shade)

sarahck so brave! ⤷her thank youu luisafernandes you're my inspiration ⤷her luv u gossipinsider what? lol ⤷mseeker she try too hard she's just not cute

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#ruben dias #football fic #football fanfic #ruben dias fanfic #rúben dias #ruben dias x reader

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chirpymoth · 1 year ago

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Another Moth info post.

What got you into G/T? This info will date me. ./// . For me it was the book "Castle in the Attic" (with this cover)

Really only the first part. Where the tiny knight comes back to life. The last half is going into the knight's world and saving the kingdom. At the time I created my own "OC" knight named Erdrick (Yeah from Dragon Warrior... I was like... 7~8 at the time) Then there was the Nickleodeon shows like The Lil' Bits (A show about tiny elves/fairies/gnomes) that went and had adventures with their animal friends. I always wanted them to meet a human but they never did to my knowledge. IT WAS ALSO AN ANIME. (Mori no Youki na Kobitotachi: Berufi to Rirubitto [Little Pixies of the Forest: Belfie and Lilbit]) And thanks to Unico, Grimm's Fairy Tales, The Little Prince, Noozles and Lil' Bits... it was my anime awakening. This was also done by Tasunoko Productions of Speed Racer, Gatchaman and SDF Macross <- (more later)

youtube

(1995 is the wrong year. It was from 1980)

Around 1985~1990 on TV it was The Littles, which I was very opinionated about at the time as I like my tinies being fully human and not "With tails and buckteeth". Thanks children's media for maligning buckteeth to me. Seeing it now I've been told this was basically "OC Borrowers"

You can watch the show on Pluto TV now and there was 2 DVD re-releases. Today being an adult the teeth and tails don't bother me. Also Dinky is the best. From 1995~1999 was kind of a wasteland for me. I had to rely on my imagination! (Yes I know Robotech was a thing, but I didn't see it on TV). I didn't know what I was looking on the internet for so I wandered around for a bit. Everything I saw was aimed at men and was... kinda gross and a bit misogynistic. (Yeah I would have ~16 at this time)

Come 1999 I was told about Chiisana Kyojin Microman (Small Giant Microman). A show about 8cm tall super"humans" (They are really aliens) that save the world from evil tiny aliens. Lest to say I was sold for life! G/T content and IT'S ANIME!

This show was remake/reboot of the late 1970s~1980s toyline "Microman" that ALSO was the origin of Transformers! (People claim it was Diaclone and really Diaclone was dragged into the whole thing that was to be Transformers in the US) It was known as "Micronauts" in the US and THAT became something else in comicbooks. I'm not a comicbook fan. So I had to buy the toys and stuff and try to get any info about the show. They even had repros of the 70s stuff as well as a PSX game based on that. (The PSX game is alright.) Then the anime got a PSX game (Generation 2000) After the 1999 series died off (No thanks to bad marketing decisions) there was a re-reboot around 2003 that was aimed more for collectors and adults where they were no longer from space and were instead genetically engineered. It has some pretty men, but the story is kinda meh. However there are now Microwomen so I guess that's the trade off. Now it was after this point around 2005 where I was introduced to SDF Macross. SDF Macross of course has the opposite of Microman with giant aliens (That are trying to take back the SDF and conquer Earth)

Kamjin the really only hot Zentraedi from the series until Macross 7

So of course I watched it, however not really into SDF Macross and more into Macross 7 where they keep the Zentraedi and even have some G/T stuff with Mylene and Basara. Where the butchered Robotech just.. makes them all human as they had to cram 3 different series together. I don't really like Macross Frontier as it injected a "genetic problem" in the way of Klan Klan for Zentraedi where she's either a giant large breasted woman or pedophile pandering. (Of course it's only a woman we see this affect) They also kill my fave character. We do get Ai-kun which is the only good thing.

Macross Delta seems to have just.. gone away from the whole G/T completely and now panders to the idol otaku fully. And then the wasteland continued until really around now as again, looking up macro/micro would only bring up furry stuff (not really my thing) and GTS (GianTeSs?) was only for horny men and I couldn't find the GT stuff as again.... only stuff for men popped up.

So it's really cool that I tried again (on tumblr) and found stuff. Currently the only G/T anime I watch is Sugar Apple Fairy Tale that has the tiny fairies. Mythril Lid Pod is the best wingman.

Mithril Lid Pod (left) and Benjamin

And that's where I am today. Also finally indulging my fantasies and writing about them. I can do so many words!

Edit: Oh and I got into EDF (Earth Defense Force) after watching people play #5 and they had some giant aliens in it and OH the camera is so good at making your soldiers look tiny.

#giant/tiny #g/t #gt #g/t community #gianttiny #gt community #user info #ChirpyMoth #Youtube

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killhimjustkillhim · 3 years ago

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Even though I (23f) am American, my parents are immigrants and therefore I have a different cultural upbringing than most. One thing that was hammered into my head from a young age was to always, *always* bring a small gift when visiting anyone's house. It doesn't matter if it's family or friends or that one person you kind of know but don't really like, bringing something is a must.

My bf (28m) and I have been dating for almost 4 years now and since we both work from home he suggested we make dinner with his parents a weekly thing since we haven't been able to see each other much for obvious reasons. I love his parents, so obviously I agreed! Every week I made sure to bring something small to show my appreciation for them cooking for us (always using my own money); a small bottle of wine, their favorite dessert, some flowers etc. and they always thanked me for it. This has been going on for a few months and absolutely didn't notice anything out of the ordinary until yesterday when my bf and I were preparing to head over.

I'd gotten a cute vase of daffodils since luckily I'd found some in bloom and my bf's mom really loves them, but my bf suddenly got really mad and asked why I kept bringing stuff over every week like his parents were "a charity case". Honestly I got super confused and asked him what the problem was and that I've always done this with everyone including his friends since we met. That it was a cultural thing but then he got even madder and told me to stop imposing my culture on everyone and it's weird since I'm white. At that point I didn't feel like going anywhere with him and just gave him the flowers and went for a walk while he drove over to dinner by himself.

After he came home he still had the flowers which he gave to me and told me he was sorry but his parents really were super annoyed with me constantly bringing stuff over like they can't take care of themselves, and later on I got a text from his dad asking me to not come over for dinner anymore. Now my bf's giving me the cold shoulder unless I give his parents a huge apology, but I really, truly don't feel like I'm in the wrong for trying to be nice to them. AITA?

quick edit: I didn't realize you could edit posts directly but I'm in a hurry to convince him to let me go over to his parent's house. I did post a brief update and faq in my most recent comment.

UPDATE: AITA for "imposing my culture" even though I thought I was just being nice?

[Link to original post](https://www.reddit.com/r/AmItheAsshole/comments/t622tm/aita_for_imposing_my_culture_even_though_i/)

First of all I just want to thank everyone for the overwhelming support and replies on my first post. I'm looking forward to going over to everyone's houses for dinner and I'll be sure to bring all the things you said you liked :-) many flower lovers out there! I'm now also apparently the DIL to a lot of hopeful parents that replied as well so I hope I can deliver on expectations!

\---

After my last update I told my bf I was sick and tired of him dancing around the issue with his parents and I was going to go over to their house whether he liked it or not. At this point I think he realized that whatever he was doing had backfired so he sat down all angry and told me he'd explain. I sat and he told me that he'd done something very spur of the moment and that he'd texted me from his dad's phone then blocked the number but begged me to listen. That he just needed to get his parents off me for a while and to not leave.

Apparently his parents had started hinting at him about marriage since my bf and I talked a lot about it. I fully expected to marry him as I said in another comment, and was honestly expecting a proposal in late spring since that's when we met. Four years dating didn't bother me but I was getting excited to settle down. However, my bf apparently realized that he absolutely didn't want to commit to anything and wanted to experiment and have fun since I "wasn't being fun anymore". Honestly that just made me cry since we were each other's firsts for everything and usually very good at communicating our needs.

His grand plan was to get him mad at me so I would beg for forgiveness and then he'd only accept an open relationship as an answer. Absolutely brilliant plan I know. He'd made up his parents getting mad but didn't expect me to blow off dinner completely and it's like "hitting a jackpot", his words not mine. He went over for dinner, hid the flowers and said we'd gotten into a huge fight but he was "going to fix it" but I needed space. After he confessed all this he said he was very sorry but really didn't want to miss out on new experiences when he was still young and would I consider an open relationship but pretend ours was strained with his parents so they wouldn't get suspicious?

And.....I laughed. I laughed his ass right out the door and told him absolutely not and to leave me alone while I packed because I wanted to have some new experiences too!!! He never stopped begging me to stay but I left to sleep at a friend's. After calming down for a few days I cemented the breakup and finally, actually went over to his parent's. My ex-bf's dad never even noticed the phone missing but still apologized and his mom was a mess. I did and still love them and will eat dinner there without *him* as often as I can. I won't lie that I'm sad about four years down the drain, but that's life. And if that was my ex's best possible plan then I dodged the bullet by a mile.

#kill him #reddit #AITA

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bruhlsbees · 4 years ago

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sweet disposition: 1/? || femaleprofessor!reader x modern!alex kerner

hi bestie hehe i’d like to request a little series for you, sub! a little jealous modern alex keener (of age) x professor! f reader (late 20’s) - shes an english romantic lit professor & her “love interest” is a film professor who is one of alex’s shared teacher. alex has a little crush on her, and knows the film teacher is after her. super fluffy, smut maybe??? u decide baby, im just so excited eeeeek!!!

summary: alex kerner is a senior film student and develops a crush for his friend, denis, english professor

pairing: modern!alex kerner and professor!reader

warnings: age gap (alex is 22 and reader is 32), wet dream, sweet sweet pathetic boy, nsfw, 18+, minors dni

word count: 4,387

a/n: thank you for the request @gotmadison ily sweet gal!! this will be a short fic series i write and will post probably throughout the coming weekend! :) please enjoy and if you have any requests or asks please send them in!!!

For Alex Kerner, a senior film student, nothing bored him more than the first day of a new unit. He knew what to expect - twenty plus slides about some dead, or borderline dead, director while connecting their life to the style of films they did and how it related to whatever political controversy was going down at the time. Alex knew that there was a reason for going into so much history to better understand the meaning of the films, but jesus did it have to drag for so long?

The auditorium that Alex’s class was held in was larger, although the class was rather small. There were maybe, at most, thirty students in his class, including him, which felt empty as the auditorium they were in was meant to hold almost double that. Alex didn’t mind though, of all the rows, he was the only one in the back, taking the middle seat - of course, the best view to see a film. He recognized a lot of the faces in his class, as it was a senior level class, but he didn’t bother to converse with many.

It wasn’t that he was shy, not overly at least, he just didn’t care to make friends. It was an afternoon class, he was just getting out of work to rush to his class, and far too exhausted to try and fake being friendly…hence him sitting in the back, all alone.

The ‘Authorship in Cinema’ course he was currently in was held twice a week - both two hours long. The first class of the week was held for lectures and the second class was held for the film screening. The university was just getting back from winter break, continuing into the last half of the semester. In Alex’s class they had finished their unit on Roman Polanski before the break and they came into the next covering Krzysztof Kieślowski. Alex was thrilled to say the least about not having to listen to his film professor rave on Polanski. Even after discussing Polanski’s case, his professor still seemed to idolize the man.

Alex was not fond of his film professor. He was a younger professor, maybe in his late thirties, early forties, and he seemed to praise the worst directors he could find. His name was Jaxon Thorne and was the staple image of a douche. He always wore faded jeans that were tight in the crotch, scuffed up sneakers that he always tried to pass as being cool, and a sweater with a scarf - even though they were inside. He truly didn’t get how girls liked the man. Alex wouldn’t lie though, some of his opinions were interesting, but the guy loved to hear himself talk, that much was obvious.

They weren’t even at the tenth slide yet when Alex felt himself beginning to doze off. Work had been busy today, fixing satellites and dealing with prissy wives and their drunk husbands. He was almost late getting to class with all the traffic that was on the highway. The last thing he wanted to do was attend class. It took everything in him not to put his head down and go to sleep right there. He had done it before, and that was a mistake he would never make again. Waking up to everyone staring and snickering while the teacher was hovering over you meant for a lasting effect.

But Alex just couldn’t take it, he was so bored with Kieślowski’s early work. The documentaries of everyday lives for city dwellers, workers, and soldiers could not keep his attention even if he wasn’t tired. He sunk down into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest, before craning his head to the side on his shoulder. His blinking became slow, desperately trying to stay awake and pay attention, but his eyes grew heavy, and before he knew it, his mouth was gaped open, drool slipping out of the corner of his lips.

He didn’t know how long he had dozed off for, but when he woke up he heard the projector screen zip up and the lights click on. Jumping slightly, Alex sat back up, feeling the stickiness of his drool on his face. With a groan, he wiped his face with the sleeve of his jean jacket before beginning to pack his things up into his bag.

“On Wednesday we will dive into his documentary, Workers, and discuss the censorship aspect of it. Come prepared to watch the screening and discuss afterwards. If anyone has any questions or comments, I’ll be staying after for a few minutes.”

Rolling his eyes, Alex pushed himself out of his chair, swinging his bag over his shoulder before rushing out the back door at the top of the auditorium. He couldn’t have gotten out of there fast enough to avoid his teacher from going off on an ‘intellectual conversation’ on their new unit. Barf.

Alex was happy though to finally be out of class and to enjoy his hour and a half break before his next class. He knew he should have been finalizing what project he wanted to submit for critique in his senior portfolio, but he needed something to wake him up.

As he turned the hallway, going to leave the building, he stopped by the vending machine and pulled out a crinkled bill from his pocket, pushing it into the machine before pressing the buttons to get a bottle of Coke. To his luck, however, the machine stalled, the bottle retriever getting stuck in front of the row and producing an obnoxious ‘whirring’ noise.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!” Gripping the side of the vending machine, Alex shook the machine roughly, rocking the broken vending machine back and forth until setting it back, sending a punch to the front of it.

“Woah, woah! Jesus man what did that vending machine do to you?”

Turning his head, Alex’s glare softened at the sight of his friend, Denis, approaching him. Denis, with his books still in his hands, tucked them under his arm as he stood in front of the machine, watching as the machine stalled with Alex’s bottle of Coke.

“The stupid thing got stuck! Is it too much to ask for a bottle of co-”

Before he could finish his sentence, the machine began to work again, grabbing the bottle and dispensing it below. Staring blankly at the bottom, his lips pulled into a tight line, Alex could only feel the embarrassment settling in - and it didn’t help to hear Denis laugh at how ridiculous he reacted.

“Oh my god, dude, you seriously need to take it easy. Did work kill you that bad?” Denis asked, watching as Alex bent down to pull out the bottle, standing back up as he began unscrewing the cap, guzzling the pop down.

Nodding his head, Alex screwed the cap back on before tucking the bottle in his bag, hiccuping at the carbonation before sighing, “Yeah, and it doesn’t help that I gotta go to Professor Dick’s class right after.”

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Denis nodded, listening to Alex as he vented, “Yeah, Thorne’s a real piece of work. But hey! Only gotta deal with him for another semester after this. Who knows, maybe he will knock a student up and ditch down?”

The fantasy would have been nice to come true, but Alex knew that it would stay just that - a fantasy. Thorne was a questionable guy, with interesting ideas and made borderline inappropriate comments towards the female students in all his classes…but that was just it, he could charm anyone he wanted, and that’s how he stayed around.

“Yeah, maybe when dogs walk on two legs…” Alex mumbled, pressing his knuckles to his eyes and rubbing the sleep out of them, a yawn escaping his lips.

As he dropped his hands down to his side, he felt Denis nudge him in the arm, groaning at the contact as he was too tired to have any contact, “You got class at seven right?”

Nodding, Alex blinked, a tired smile on his face as he smacked his lips, “Yeah…seven to nine, best time of day to have a senior portfolio workshop.”

Denis laughed at the sarcastic comment, mentioning that it could’ve been worse and be at seven in the morning than at night. Alex, however, couldn’t see how anything could be worse than an evening class after a long day of work.

“Listen, I got my ‘Romanticism in Literature’ class in a few…why don’t you come with me? My teacher’s pretty cool and I’m sure she won’t mind if you sit in. I’m in the back anyways so she probably won’t even realize. She’s got pretty bad vision I’ve realized. I think she said that her glasses don’t got the right prescription or somethin. She’s always runnin late and claims she never has time to put her contacts in.”

The detailed explanation of the professor’s vision made Alex laugh, shaking his head as Denis looked at him confused, cheeks red, “What? It’s what she’s told us! She’s always coming in late. I wouldn’t be surprised if she came in late this time around. She’s got office hours before class, so she probably gets held up with a student.”

“Sounds like you’re in love with her, is that right, Denny Boy? Someone’s gotta crush on the teacher? Ain’t that every high school kid’s fantasy? Get the hots for the teacher?”

Scoffing, Denis rolled his eyes at Alex’s teasing and shoved him in the arm, “No man, come on now, it ain’t like that. Look if you don’t wanna come I don’t care, but I gotta go before I’m late.”

Holding his hands up in defense, Alex trailed behind Denis, going back in the direction he originally came from, “Hey, hey, I was only kidding, don’t gotta get defensive. I’ll take along, hopefully I won’t fall asleep in this class. Why you even taking this class anyways?”

Following Denis into the class, the auditorium setup similar to the one he just came out of, except smaller, Alex sat beside Denis in the back row, watching as the class filled up, only a few seats not filled.

“I guess I gotta earn some more credits outside my degree, this was the only one that wasn’t completely filled up yet and it worked with my schedule. It ain’t too bad, she gives us a lot of free time to work.”

Watching as Denis set his bag down beside him, opening his textbook to where they left off the other day, Alex watched Denis prep for the class, the teacher not in sight. Alex figured that the teacher must have been running late, like Denis said she always did, but he couldn’t help but wonder how long it’d be before she even showed up.

Fifteen minutes after class was supposed to begin the front door ripped open, slamming shut seconds after while heels frantically clicked towards the desk in the front of class.

“Sorry I’m late! I got caught up with another professor. I hope you all enjoyed your winter breaks and are happy to be back. I know I’m thrilled to be back!”

The sweet voice caught Alex’s attention, his eyes pulling from his cell phone and to the front of the class where the professor had just walked in. He felt his mouth fall open slightly, catching it before Denis noticed his reaction.

He was expecting an old lady for Denis’ class, someone who was on the edge of death and smelled of cats. What he found, however, was someone the complete opposite. Younger, curvier, and the scent that filled the room when she entered was warm - like she just finished drinking a cup of coffee.

Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, bangs hanging low over her eyes, covering the tops of her crooked frames. She couldn’t have been all that older than him, maybe mid-thirties at max. He didn’t notice what she was wearing below, but the shirt she wore clung to her so well, the outline of her fuller chest displayed with her necklace dipping into her cleavage.

‘Good God, Alex, get a hold of yourself.’

Alex watched the professor, noticing her speaking although his lusted thoughts deafened his ears. He assumed she was asking how the break went and if anyone did anything fun because a few people raised their hands, a kind smile on her face as she listened to her students.

“That’s great to hear, Polly! You’ll have to show me the photos you took sometime. I have never been to that side of the country before,” Her head shifted towards the other side of the room, looking up at the higher rows. “Did anyone else have anything to share about their break?”

Denis’ professor sat patiently and listened to everyone who wanted to share, giving everyone the opportunity to discuss their breaks before she opened up her laptop to get started with class. Alex watched as she picked up the remote and pointed it to the projector box, the screen coming down beside her with her computer screen displayed.

Her home screen featured what he assumed to be her and some friends. He recognized a few of the people in the photo as they were also professors at the university - what made Alex turn his nose, however, was right beside her - in all his douchebag glory, Jaxon Thorne. Before he could make a cohesive thought, the photo went away and a slideshow on Mary Shelley appeared…and maybe for the better.

“Okay everyone! As mentioned in the email, we are gonna be diving into Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein for this part of the semester,” She began, her warm smile still ignited, chuckling lightly as some of the students up front became uneasy in their seats, excited for the novel, “I’m glad to hear we have some fans. Now, I promised that I wouldn’t give you any reading over break, but because of that we will be reading quite a bit over the next few weeks.”

The slide shifted to the reading guide and what chapters were due when. Alex watched as some students scribbled the due dates down while others pulled out their cell phones, snapping a photo before stuffing their phones away.

“For Wednesday I would like you all to have read the preface and letters one through four. Come prepared to discuss your analyses of the text and any questions you may have. Of course, I’ll have my office hours open tomorrow and Wednesday before class, but if there are any questions, you can send me an email and I’ll try to get back with you in a timely manner.”

The rest of class seemed to lull by, Alex’s gaze fixed on the professor that continued to go over what the last half of the semester would look like, answering the occasional question, before finally it was time to pack up and go. Frowning, Alex shifted in his seat, looking at Denis who was packing things up in his bag.

“It’s over?” Alex asked, eyebrows furrowed, a pathetic frown on his face.

Looking up from his bag, Denis smiled, nodding, “Yeah man, it is. Why? You fall in love with Mary Shelley?” Standing up, Denis pushed his seat under the table and shrugged his shoulders, “I mean, if it works for your schedule and you’re interested, maybe go up and ask if you can enroll. I don’t know if you’ll be able to with it being so late in the semester, but it’s worth a shot,” Glancing down at his watch, Denis sighed, “Look, I gotta run, but let me know how it goes, okay?” Patting Alex’s back, Denis rushed up the stairs and out the back door, fleeing the auditorium to get to his next class on time.

Meanwhile, Alex kept seated, watching as the professor talked with some students who approached her desk after class, laughing and admiring the editions of Frankenstein that students presented. Was this how professors could be with their students? Actually caring and involved? It seemed like Alex had poor luck with his own professors - either they were old as a bat and didn’t know how to work the computer, or they were a presumptuous dick.

When the students began to flock out, already discussing how they were looking forward to Wednesday’s class, Alex finally stood up, pulling his bag over his shoulder and making his way down the auditorium steps. She hadn’t noticed him as he walked, writing something down in her planner. As he stood now in front of her, he cleared his throat awkwardly, gaining her attention as she looked up, squinting before taking her glasses off.

“Hello,” he began shyly, adjusting the strap of his bag, “I’m Alex. My friend, Denis, he’s in your class.”

At the mention of Denis, she smiled and nodded, “Yes! Denis, nice boy he is,” She adjusted her position in her seat, leaning back slightly, “I-I’m sorry, are you in my class? I don’t believe I’ve ever see-”

“No! I mean, no, no I’m not in your class. I have a free hour before my next class and Denis invited me to sit in for this one,” He rushed, cheeks red as he realized how abruptly he had interrupted her, “I’m sorry, um, yeah I just came down because I really enjoyed your lecture today. I was curious if there was any way I could maybe enroll? I know it’s late in the semester, but I did enjoy today.”

The cheeky smile faded into a sadder, smaller smile. She chewed on her bottom lip before leaning forward again, crossing her arms over chest, accentuating her cleavage that Alex desperately tried not to stare at.

“Oh, I’m sorry Alex, but I don’t think I can convince the department to let you in this late in the semester. I love your enthusiasm with the course and would love to have you in my class, but I don’t think I can make that happen.” Her smile dropped to a frown when she saw the visible disappointment in Alex’s face before bending over to open her bag, pulling out a copy of Frankenstein, handing it to Alex.

Looking down at the copy, Alex opened the cover, reading what he assumed to be her name in the cover, before flipping through the pages, a weak smile on his face, trying his best to not look so pathetic in front of her.

“How about this? I probably shouldn’t, but if you want to sit in on the days you’re free, you’re more than welcome to. I’ll forward you the reading guide so you can keep up with us, but you won’t earn any credit in this class. Is that okay?”

His frown turned into a grin, looking up from the book, Alex nodded, his cheeks pink as his toothy crooked grin spread across his face, “Yeah, yes. Thank you,” Tugging down the front of his striped blue shirt, he cleared his throat awkwardly, looking down at the book before back up at her, “Um, so when are your office hours? Just in case I have any questions?”

Letting out a faint ‘ah’, she opened her notebook and scribbled some notes down, tearing off the paper and handing it to Alex, “You’re more than welcome to shoot me an email though if you need help outside of my office hours. Or you can call my office number, sometimes I answer it.” She admitted, her own cheeks going pink at the confession.

Smiling, Alex looked down at the paper and made a mental note to remember all that she had given him.

My email,

My office number,

Office hours are M&W: 3-5:15 and T&R: 1-2

Class takes place on M&W from 5:30-6:30

The smile she left on the page made Alex’s stomach flutter. His thumb ran along the smiley face before he looked up, thanking her quietly for the note. She was sweet, almost too sweet for Alex to absorb, like he was in a sugar coma and begging for more.

“Of course, it was nice to meet you Alex. I’m looking forward to seeing you in class. I don’t mean to run off, but I’m to meet another professor here in a couple minutes and don’t need to be lectured on being late.”

When she stood up, Alex’s face went hot. The flowy flower blouse that showed more cleavage than he had seen on a professor before was tucked into a tight jean skirt, clinging to her hips in all the right places, a thick black belt holding it all together. If it weren’t for the fact that he was right in front of her, he probably would have started drooling.

Packing up her desk, she stuffed her things in her bag, throwing her sweater over her shoulder before throwing her bag around her, moving around the desk to stand beside it now, looking up at Alex. He noted how she was shorter, the heels helping her with height, and how good her legs looked in them. Clearing his throat, he shifted his bag around him to sit in front of his pants, attempting to hide any possible pop-up in his jeans.

“If you’re free tomorrow, stop by my office hours. I’ll even buy you a coffee if it’s too early for you. I know you college boys stay up far too late. I can only imagine what your mothers think.” She teased, shaking her head and she turned and began to head out of the room, hearing Alex keep tight on her trail.

Turning off the lights and letting him leave first, she shut the door behind her and stood beside Alex, motioning towards the English department office, “I’ll see you tomorrow, or Wednesday, my office is the last one on the right. I’ll be sure to leave my door open!”

Nodding, Alex smiled and waved goodbye as she waved back, rushing down the hall and weaving through the students to get into the office. Letting out a sigh, Alex leaned against the doorway, processing his first encounter with the professor, the boyish lust grin stuck on his face.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Panting hard, Alex gripped her hips tight, his fingers digging into her plush figure, grunting as he snapped his hips into her from behind, her pillowed ass meeting him with each thrust. The sweat that built up on him was beginning to fall down face, trailing down his neck and chest.

Tangling his right hand into her hair, his left still placed on her hips, Alex pulled her locks gently, smiling at the sound of her wanton moan, her eyes rolling back into her head.

“A-Alex! Oh god, Alex, I don’t think I’m going to last. F-Fuck!”

Feeling his own climax build, Alex let out a shaky breath as he bent down craning his neck to kiss her lips as he continued to rut inside of her, his thrusts becoming sloppy and quicker.

The sensation became too much too quickly, his legs shaking as he kneeled behind her befo-

Jolting awake, the obnoxious phone alarm woke Alex from his dream, resulting in a now completely frustrated mood. While still on his back, Alex reached behind him on the shelf that rested behind his bed frame, pulling his phone up and looking at the screen, squinting to gain his vision from waking up, the bright screen burning his eyes.

When he unlocked his phone and opened it, prompting him to his email, his frown lit up and turned into a smile, seeing her name in his inbox.

Good evening, Alex!

I’m sorry this is so late, I’m finally getting back to my apartment and wanted to send this your way before I forgot. Here is the reading guide for the rest of the semester and that information I shared with you earlier in case you lost it.

I look forward to seeing you in my office tomorrow or Wednesday. I hope you have a good night! :)

Best!

Alex’s mood quickly shifted after reading the email. While he was disappointed that the wet dream he was having with her ended so soon, he was more than pleased to see that he had an email from her. Clicking his phone off, Alex tossed his phone onto his bed, sitting up with his hand behind him to keep him up.

His room illuminated a red/orange hue from the lava lamp that sat on his dresser in the corner of his room. Turning his attention towards the window, he looked behind the blinds to see the city life outside his apartment lit up, the sound of music coming from the club down the road and laughs from those partying.

Letting out a yawn, Alex shook his head and rubbed his face, shifting his legs before stopping quickly, feeling the mess in his boxers. Looking down, Alex groaned seeing the stain in his boxers, pressing his hand to feel the wet spot before sighing, standing up. He pulled his boxers carefully off, tossing them into his laundry basket before making his way into the bathroom to clean up.

When he entered the small bathroom that was connected to his room, he hissed at the bright light as it came on, looking at himself in the mirror. His hair was tangled up, sticking out on the sides and his eyes were squinted, too tired to open them fully. Shaking his head, Alex climbed into the shower and started the water, the cold water hitting him both waking him up and cooling himself down.

He was absolutely and pathetically smitten over her. There was no doubt about it. Since leaving her class, the only thoughts that occupied his mind were of her. He had already planned out what he would wear tomorrow when he went to her office hours. It was pathetic, truly, with how quickly he was letting the woman ruin him. It was ridiculous to say, no doubt, because what would happen between them? Nothing. Not a single thing would come between the two other than a conversation about Frankenstein, maybe a personal question here and there.

Or so he thought.

#submissions #submission #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #daniel bruehl #daniel brühl imagine #daniel bruhl imagine #goodbye lenin #good bye lenin #alex kerner #alex kerner imagine #alex kerner smut #alex kerner x reader #au #college au #modern au #sweet disposition

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chicken-poncho · 4 years ago

Text

Dot x Steve x Male! Reader Headcanons

God knows how but it just works

You met the boys while they were out at the pub after a late shift (Ted dragged the whole team there, put money behind the bar and left)

Steve caught your eye first, he was laughing loudly with Kate and some of the team

You thought he was just gorgeous and sent a drink his way via the bartender

You met Dot in the toilets, he was coming out and you were walking in

You kinda just bumped into each other and stood there looking at each other for a few seconds

It was so intense, Dot just stared into your eyes like he was about to eat you

Dot just grinned and pushed his way past you

You walked back into the pub and saw the two of them whispering to each other, you knew some sort of game was on

Walking over to the bar and they sidled up to you, one on either side

It soon turned out that they were actually together

They hadn't been together long mind, they'd started out looking for someone else and figured after seeing you they'd see if you were interested

You agreed, and the three of you left the pub and went down to a small cafe a few streets away to get to know each other better

It all kicked off from there

Dot, it turned out, was a prick with a (very small) heart of gold

Steve was the human embodiment of a golden retriever- fiercely loyal and dangerous when crossed

The two of them obviously worked together, but you soon were made aware of their fears about Hastings finding out and any consequential disciplinary action against them for seeing each other

They had to keep their own relationship underwraps- but they were happy to be open about you

After a few separate dates (the boys insisted on getting to know you on a one to one level*) they were happy enough to properly give it a go

*dot took you for a chinese, steve took you for an indian and you took the pair of them to a foodstand by your work which sold incredible pizzas and kerbabs

Steve had moved into Dots place before you had joined them so you pretty mich spent most of your time round theirs

They'd try not to spill too much about work (confidentiality and all that) but eventually they literally didn't care and would keep you posted on their cases

Dot was more closed off at first, but eventually he began to trust you more and open up

Steve tried to not overshare and tell you about things but he just couldn't help it

With Sam it had been very much 'she's in another department, mustn't talk about work' but then he'd get home and you and Dot would be sitting on the sofa and he'd be filling you in about any new findings and Steve just had to tell you about his day too!

You'd originally thought Dot was easily spooked- he'd check the locks, keep an eye out for certain cars and would be wary when you and/or Steve were out with him in public

One Friday evening, Steve had picked you up from work and the pair of you walked into the flat to see Dot looking stressed as hell and making a batch of chilli

Obviously you were confused but mainly concerned- Dot was usually so controlled in his emotions but you could feel the nervous energy radiating off him

Steve explained he 'just got like that sometimes' and jumped into the shower like nothing had happened- clearly Dot had at some point asked him to leave him be

You weren't having it

Softly approaching Dot and trying to make him explain whatever was bothering him

He promises to explain over dinner - hence the chilli

Once Steve was dressed and joined the pair of you at the table, Dot proceeded to slowly explain his ties and involvement to the OCG- how they had groomed him into the force, manipulated him into feeding them intel and how he was now effectively running the cutaway group

By the end of it, none of you were hungry and Dot was sobbing

He was so scared of losing you both over his involvement

You both assured him neither of you were going anywhere

Steve started asking questions, trying to figure out what the next steps were

Obviously you both had to keep him safe, but he could hardly step down from the OCG or you'd all be targets

You'd sat there, listening to Steve do his job and be a detective whilst you just sat, silently raging

Dot wasn't giving Steve much- he'd slowly stopped sobbing but his throat was horse from it so he resorted to just shrugging and shutting down any of the suggestions

'Mate, i can assure you I've already thought all options and there's not much of a chance of us getting out alive if i leave'

'but what about-'

eventually you cut in and told Steve to leave it

Getting up from your seat and wrapping Dot in a fierce hug from where he was still sat

He clung to you, softly whimpering and crying again about how scared he was and how he couldn't lose either of you

Steve started clearing the plates away, kissing Dots cheek softly as he walked past to bin the now very cold abandoned chili

Steve returned with a glass of water and tissues

You had to slightly peel Dot off your torso as Steve got him to drink the water

Steve concluded going to bed was probably the best thing right now- staying up talking about it and rehashing all the same ideas Dot had probably been had would do more harm than good

Seeing as Steve had already showered, he urged you and Dot to get cleaned up before bed

Dot was completely drained and you and Steve were scared shitless of leaving him on his own in his current state

Eventually- after Dot wouldn't physically let you go (he'd become very attached to your side) - it was decided between all of you that Dot was too exhausted to shower alone

You and Steve had to drag Dot into the bathroom and sit him on the toilet seat so you could undress him

Dot's lanky frame wasn't helpful, he was all limbs and his limbs were currently behaving like they were boneless

You managed to get him undressed and into the shower - Steve left to lock up the flat and get stuff sorted for his 10am shift the next day

Steve appeared at the door just as you were towel drying Dots hair while he sat on the toilet seat and brushed his teeth

The domesticity of it all- despite the obvious exhaustion from the evenings expose- hit Steve like a tonne of bricks

He really loved you both

Eventually the three of you ended up in bed, your hair still damp from the shower and Dot smelling faintly of Steve's bodywash as his had run out

Dot was in the middle of the three of you- Steve slept on his front and had to be up early anyway so you just clung to Dot and wrapped yourself in him

You were woken up the next morning by Steve kissing your head and whispering a quick goodbye as he walked out the bedroom

You sleepily admired Steves ass in his suit pants as he walked away until Dot groggily whispered 'somethings never get old'

The pair of you stayed in bed most of the day, eventually getting up mid afternoon and finding a note on the fridge from Steve saying he loved you both and he would get more milk on the way home

You let Dot use the last of the milk for his breakfast as a sorry about your trauma i really love you gesture

At some point, you had to do some work so you grabbed your computer and sat on the bed whilst Dot dosed off with his head on your legs

Steve got home later with a bag of Chinese Food and a bottle of wine

After a glass of wine, Dot declared he couldn't leave the OCG but he'd try and take a backseat and divert operations more away from AC-12 and Steve

You all relaxed after that and spent the rest of the night watching some shit film and pointing out the plot holes

That evening you had to leave the to go back to your flat as you had work on the Monday

Dot and Steve decided right there they had to ask you to move in

The flat felt weird when you weren't there- the boys obviously knew how to survive on their own (they'd been doing fine before they met you!) but it felt like something was missing

The next weekend you were over, they asked you and you accepted immediately

They helped you move all your stuff into boxes and then move it into their flat

Well, it was now your flat

The three of you consumating the move in

You woke up the next morning feeling sore and loved

Dot had been up for a while and when he walked into the bedroom to check on you both he could hear you and Steve laughing softly

He cracked open the door slightly and saw you and Steve all cuddled up, hair a mess and the duvet spread haphazardly across both your legs

Dot was, as he had been many times, struck by how much he loved you both and how much he was glad Hastings had put money behind the bar that one night

___

my heart hurts, but what can i say?

its 12:22am as I'm posting this- big love to everyone and anyone who enjoyed this fic!

drop me a comment- I'd super appreciate it 😍

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pemfrost · 4 years ago

Note

Can you please write a Spideynova with jealous Sam? :)

I’m not sure if this 100% counts, but I tried :D (I didn’t edit, sorry for any typos. I’ll fix ‘er up before I post to AO3)

Sam's head fell against his open biology book and for once he was thankful for how thick the damn thing was. It was almost midnight, and instead of relaxing -or god forbid, sleeping- he was cramming for a final. It was the unglamorous part of being a superhero while also being a high school student. Yea, getting out of a boring lecture to save lives was great and all, but it added up. And it added up quickly.

"Can we just call it a night?" His voice was muffled by the book, but he knew Peter would understand well enough.

Originally, they all studied as a team. Or, tried to. Sam was absolutely fine with how things shook out after Ava stormed out on one session. Now, they took turns rotating to study in smaller groups. It was easier for Sam to focus this way, with fewer distractions. And fewer arguments over the appropriate amount of non-school conversations.

Sam enjoyed studying with everyone; Ava made him actually study, Luke helped give him a new perspective, Danny helped him relax, and Peter gave him a reason to want to succeed. Every time Sam would wonder why he bothered with school, he thought about Peter. Sure, Sam could easily be successful with the Guardians, no stupid Biology final needed. No need to graduate. Just him, his helmet, and a universe at his fingertips.

And then there was Peter. Loathe as he was to admit it, there was something special about Peter, something Sam had yet to find the words to describe. Perhaps Danny could help him when they studied for their English final.

“Take the practice test. Pass it, and then we’ll call it a night.” Peter dropped a small pile of papers on Sam’s head.

Sam groaned and brushed the papers off him without lifting his head. “I'm serious, I’m done.”

“What can I do to convince you? You need to pass this final, unless you wanna retake it…”

There was a teasing lilt to Peter’s voice that made Sam roll his head to this side to see him. The dark circles under Peter’s eyes betrayed his own exhaustion, but his eyes sparked with mischief, like he was daring Sam to make some ridiculous request. Like taking a video game break. Or make a frozen pizza- he’d spied one in Peter’s freezer earlier.

Or, a kiss.

Yes, a kiss would convince him to take the practice test. A kiss. From Peter. A kiss. From Peter.

Peter rolled his eyes when Sam didn’t respond, and Sam was thankful his super power wasn’t reading mind- though, it would make it easier to actually tell Peter. Instead, he was laying on his book, looking to Peter like he was so disinterested he couldn’t even make a joke for the sake of breaking up the monotony of studying.

“I’m grabbing a drink,” Peter stood from the table without looking back to Sam.

“Ugh.” Sam pulled himself up and stretched his stiff back. It was utterly helpless. He was putting so much effort towards a future on Earth just because of Peter- and he had no way of knowing if a future on Earth would include Peter. At least, include him in a way that mattered.

Okay, he could do this. He could tell Peter. Ask Peter. Make all of this work mean something more than the promise of a possibility. And he was certain he wasn’t imagining the looks Peter gave him when he thought no one was looking.

Sam sighed and scooted over to sit at Peter’s seat. His notes were so much more organized, rivaling Ava’s in their detail. He kept his ears trained towards the kitchen, no way he was going to let Peter catch him using his notes, not after their earlier argument over Sam’s own poor note taking.

As he was rereading Peter’s meticulous notes on meiosis for the third time, Peter’s phone lit up next to him. Huh. Usually Peter took his phone everywhere, he wasn’t one to leave it lay around where anyone could, you know, glance at an incoming message.

Sam didn’t mean to look, but he was caught off guard, and his eyes jumped to the screen on reflex. And if they lingered on the screen as more messages came in? Well, no one ever accused him of having tact.

♡♡♡: Still up?

♡♡♡ :Thinking about you ;)

♡♡♡: Miss you!

The room tilted as the screen faded back to black. Sam was certain time was frozen, or sped up, or maybe it just didn’t exist at all and was just made up. Made up like the glances he swore Peter was giving him. Made up like stupid bubble of hope he’d let form around him.

“Sam!” Peter laughed as he entered the room again. “Do you want me to make you a copy? I told you my notes were so much better than yours.”

“Whatever.” Sam grit his teeth and refused to look at Peter as he began shoveling his own notes and book into his bag. What was the point of studying, anyway? He clearly had no chance of being on Peter’s romantic radar.

“Whoa. What’s the rush?”

“Nothing. I told you I was done.” Oh, he was so done. So, so, so, done.

“You’re ridiculous. If you fail the final-”

“Maybe I won’t bother taking it.” Sam was numb, his mind repeating the three messages over and over. Who was it? Who had Peter’s love? What did they have that Sam didn’t?

“The hell, Sam?” Peter raised his voice slightly, still mindful of Aunt May sleeping upstairs.

“Look,” Sam said without any emotion, “I can’t keep… doing this.” He gestured vaguely.

“Look, we don’t have to keep studying tonight. We can do a quick cram tomorrow before-”

“No, Peter.”

Peter stepped to block Sam’s retreat. “What happened? I thought-”

“Well, don’t think.” He glared up at Peter, but couldn’t put any real heat behind it. Peter didn’t do anything wrong, not really. The only person to blame was himself for falling for a teammate.

“What is with you all of a sudden?” Peter’s concern was written all over his face, and it was a punch in the gut. Peter was worried about him, as a friend.

Is that all they would be, then? Friends? But then, what sort of friend was dating someone and didn’t tell his friend? They were friends, right? Right?

“Sam?”

“What are we, Peter?”

Peter jerked back, “What?”

“Forget it.” Sam could feel heat rising up his neck and he refused to meet Peter’s eyes.

“No, what do you mean?”

“I-” Sam bit his tongue, it had betrayed him enough for one night.

“We’re… friend’s? Teammates at least.”

“Least. Because friends don’t keep secrets.” Sam tried to shoulder his way past Peter, but a strong hand on his shoulder held him back. “Let go.”

“So, what? Because I want you to study, we're not friends now?”

“No,” Sam ground out. “We’re not friends because you’re dating someone and didn’t think it was worth sharing with me. Like friends do.”

“I- What?” Peter stammered and the damn hand left his shoulder. Even so, Sam could still feel the warmth lingering where Peter touched. “I’m- I did!”

Sam stared. Peter stared back.

“I told you. When we were getting ice cream with MJ and Harry…”

Oh. Sam looked away, his cheeks warm. He remembered the day, a few weeks ago, remembered staring at Peter as he ate his cone, and nodding along without actually hearing- yea, Sam remembered.

“Sam? S-seriously?”

“Gah! Forget it, already.”

For once, Peter listened, letting him leave without any more questions or comments. What was there to say? Anything more and they would officially be in territory Sam was wholly uncomfortable with traversing. Anything more would carry the possibility of doing permanent damage to their friendship. As it stood, their conversation could be swept under the proverbial rug as a late night blip fueled by studying for too many hours without a break.

When he got back to his room, Sam fell against his closed door and focused on breathing. Peter was dating someone, and that someone was not Sam. Probably never would be. He was not okay with that.

Despite that, he pulled out his notes and gave them one another read before he passed out on the floor.

Thanks for reading!

#spideynova #jealousy #pem writes #ask request #hey I got my laptop out bc my thumb hurts from writing on my phone #and i can actually put a read more on this hahaha

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thompsborn · 3 years ago

Text

find the word tag!

thank you for the tag @sarah-sandwich !!

these are from all over the place. like, half finished one shots i haven’t touched in forever, projects i’ve been slowly and silently working on for months—all across the board. titles will be provided but might not be all that helpful.

leave, found, hurt, light, cup, bleak

leave

from an au that i actually originally wrote as a reddie fic back in like 2018 and recently rediscovered on my laptop and fell in love with all over again and decided to rewrite - this is a rough draft, not touched up at all. the idea behind the fic is completely different from canon, where harley and peter knew each other in high school and weren't friends at all but were like study partners basically because their academic weaknesses were the other persons strengths and they really needed to get scholarships for their own personal reasons that they never shared with one another and etc etc and eight years after graduating they run into each other at a party and shit Happens. that's all i'll say about that for now, but the original fic was called hot chocolate when i wrote it for reddie, so it might stay called that now!

oh, actually another thing about this fic: it’s a christmas themed fic! my hope is to have the rewrite finished by december to post it all then!

After graduation, Harley would occasionally wonder where Peter went, if he was successful, if he was doing well, but he never thought about it too long. There was no point in pondering over it, he always told himself. Now, however, as they maintain a somewhat awkward gaze and struggle to come up with something to say, he can’t help but think he had been wrong, because Peter looks like he’s aged more than ten years. He looks good, sure, but there’s an exhaustion in his features, bags beneath his eyes, small things that give the impression of mid-thirties rather than late twenties. Harley likes to think he isn’t a super nosy person, but he can’t help but be curious as to what could have transpired in the past eight years that could lead to him looking more tired than he should. Then again, Harley can remember looking about a hundred times worse a mere three and a half years ago, so he supposes he shouldn’t be too quick to assume. It’s not really his place to know, anyway, curiosity be damned.

Clearing his throat, Harley withdraws a hand from his pocket and gestures vaguely towards the other side of the room, saying, “I was just trying to find a way outside, if you… I mean, it’s really cool seeing you, and if you want to catch up or something then I’m so down, but I kind of hate parties like this and need to get some air, so…”

“Catching up would be really cool,” Peter agrees with a nod, glancing down at his now empty cup with the slightest of frowns, though he doesn’t actually seem very bothered by it. He looks back up at Harley, scans over the room briefly, then looks at Harley again to tell him, “But I actually need to find someone, so I can’t go outside to catch up right now. Later, maybe? We can swap numbers.”

“That sounds good to me, yeah,” Harley responds, already digging his phone out of his back pockets and quickly unlocking it, bringing up his contacts while Peter does the same. Trading devices, Harley quickly puts in his number, and he briefly considers saving himself under something a little funny or stupid, like he maybe would have before, like he's pretty sure he did when they were in high school, but he opts against it and simply types in Harley Keener before saving the contact and giving Peter his phone back. Peter also hands back Harley’s phone with a slight smile, and Harley gnaws on the inside of his cheek, feeling oddly out of place and unsure of what to do. “So, I can text you after I leave, if that’s okay?”

Peter nods again, glancing to the side, looking as though he’s searching for a specific person. He did say he had to find someone, so Harley isn’t too surprised by that. “Yeah,” he answers quickly. “Yeah, just text me whenever and we can arrange something.” Gaze flickering back to Harley, he widens his smile slightly, lifts a hand in some kind of wave, and adds, “I’ll talk to you then, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Harley agrees dumbly, and he stays rooted to the spot for a moment longer, watching as Peter spins around and pushes through the people surrounding them, disappearing into the crowd. He thinks it’s a little bit stupid, but seeing someone he hasn’t spoken to since high school makes him feel a little bit giddy, a little bit childish, and he still regrets agreeing to come to this party, but he can’t help but muse that at least something good came out of it as he shoulders past meandering people and makes his way to the exit.

found

from the infamous revolution fic that i swear to god i'm going to have finished one day! one day! i swear! it's going to be done eventually!

And then Tony is walking over to them, comes to a stop a few feet away and smiles crookedly, looks to Miles and tilts his head and asks him, “You’re a fan of Iron Man, I’m guessing?”

“I—I, uh—” Miles stammers, stumbles over his words and goes from grabbing at Peter’s shoulder to holding his hand, clutching onto him like a little kid who needs to reminder that they aren’t alone, and only when Peter gently nudges him with his elbow does Miles clear his throat and properly reply with a curt nod and a nervous, “Um, y—yes, sir, I—I am. You saved—New York. All of us.”

“Yeah, that’s a thing that I did,” Tony says, nodding. “Definitely don’t regret it, but I wouldn’t recommend it, either. Aliens, all over the place, and—nightmares. Not a fun time, kid.” He waves a hand through the air, the action almost dismissive, and changes the subject by asking, “So, who are you all? Names? Identities? Fun party tricks that I should know about?”

Peter finds his nose crinkling a bit, not intentional but just as prominent. “Are you seriously asking a nine year old girl about party tricks?”

Tony’s eyes flicker to Peter, then to Lunella, who is looking at Tony with wide eyes while she leans against Peter, and then looks at Peter again, clearly amused. “No,” he says. “I’m asking for names. You know, the thing that people call you, usually given to you at birth? Ringing any bells yet?”

“Uh.” Miles looks back at Peter, glances over to his parents—in that order—and then looks back to Tony. “I’m, um—I’m Miles, sir. Miles Morales. This is Lunella Lafayette, and—”

“Peter Parker,” Peter cuts in.

Tony squints at him, looking contemplative for a moment too long, making Peter shift uncomfortably in his seat, feeling as Miles nervously tightens his hold on his hand and May settles her own hand on his shoulder. Then, suddenly, Tony snaps his fingers together, points at Peter and exclaims, “The spider guy! That was you, right? With the—the, pajama’s or whatever, and the webs? Located in Queens?”

Peter blinks once, eyes going a bit wide. “I—I, uh—”

“It was definitely you,” Tony says, looking a bit smug as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I was in the middle of trying to recruit the guy when the government started working on those anti-enhanced bills and shit. I had it narrowed down to five potential people before I had to drop it, and you were number one on that list. I’m right, aren’t I? You were the spider guy?”

At the time, when Peter gained his abilities and decided to use them to help others—after Ben and realizing that he could have used them then—Peter had been determined to keep his identity away from it. After all, he knew May wouldn’t approve of her nephew swinging around the streets every night, and he knew that, if people knew he was enhanced, if they knew who he was, they could track him down, could find May, could hurt her, hurt his friends, just to get to him. He had only been able to be Spider-Man for a few months before the laws were put in place and he was taken to the containment facility, but during those months, that was rule number one—no one could know who he was. It just wasn’t an option.

However, things are different now. It’s no secret that he’s enhanced—everyone knows, all the people he went to school with, anyone who watched as he was dragged from his apartment and whisked away. May knows, everyone in this room knows, and there’s just no point in hiding it now, is there?

“Yeah,” Peter finally answers, after a long, tense sort of moment, clearing his throat and looking away. “That was—I was Spider-Man. That was me. I was… before I got taken, I mean, I was—yeah. Yeah.”

May squeezes his shoulder lightly, and he can’t tell if it’s a simple, comforting gesture, or a comforting gesture with the underlying message of we’ll talk about that later. Tony’s smug smile drops, a little bit, as if reminded that these aren’t just kids, but kids that had been rescued from a government containment facility four days prior. “Well,” he says, not as uplifted in his tone but not exactly heavy in his words, either. “I have some questions about the spider guy. Who manufactured your webs, kid?”

Peter looks back at Tony with a small frown. “I did.”

Tony’s brows shoot up, looking impressed. “Seriously? How old are you?”

“Seventeen,” Peter answers. “But I made the formula for those webs a couple weeks before my fifteenth birthday.” He shrugs. “Wasn’t really all that hard, honestly. Just some pretty basic chemistry.”

It looks like Tony is somewhat stunned by that response, looking over his shoulder, towards where Bruce is making some kind of tense small talk with an overly excited looking Teddy, before turning back to Peter with lips slightly pursed in thought. “Alright,” he says, nodding once, seemingly to himself. “I’m gonna want to nitpick that brain of yours at some point, Parker, but lab time is gonna have to wait. We’re in the middle of a movement, after all, but after all of this is over, I wanna see how smart you are. If—” he looks to May, brows raised, “—that’s alright with your mother, of course.”

“I’m his Aunt,” May corrects. She says it with a finality that makes it clear that there is no mother, that Tony will have to gain her permission, not that of a parent. Tony sets his jaw and nods his understanding.

Instead of offering a response to that—though, two years ago, he would have been jumping for joy at the thought of being around Tony Stark, let alone having lab time with him—Peter just frowns, turns away and wonders why the idea of it isn’t exciting to him like it should be. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t feel all that smart anymore—if he was, he would have found a way to escape the facility, after all. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t thought of Spider-Man or making those webs or anything like that in about a year and a half, when he had first thought to himself that they may never see the outside world again.

Maybe he stopped believing in heroes to be excited about.

hurt

from a prompt fill i have been slowly writing for like almost a year? i love team red and also mattdad <3

One night, he meets the Devil.

“This isn’t your neighborhood, kid,” he says, sitting heavily next to Peter on a rooftop overlooking a park, the sky pitch black but the city alight with street lamps and headlights from passing cars. “Thought you were all about sticking to Queens and Midtown.”

“New York is New York,” Peter says.

Daredevil huffs a laugh. “I guess that’s fair.”

Peter swings his feet over the ledge of the building. This is one of the harder nights, where being gone feels a lot like being not alive. “We’ve never met,” he says, because talking gives him something to do, and it’s so rare for him to have someone to talk to nowadays.

“No,” Daredevil agrees. “No, we haven’t. Because you’re usually in Queens and Midtown. And I’m usually here.”

“But now I’m here too,” Peter says. “So now we’re meeting. It’s nice to meet you.”

Daredevil waves a hand. “People seem to assume we’ve already met, with the red suits and all,” he states. Then, almost as an afterthought, “Ever come across Deadpool?”

Peter frowns. “I have not.”

“Good,” he says. “You sound young.”

“I’m in my twenties,” Peter defends.

“For how long?”

He doesn’t respond.

Daredevil sounds smug. “Thought so. Wade isn’t the worst, believe me—but he’s inappropriate, and he doesn’t have the no killing policy that you follow, and that I try to go by. He’d protect you, but maybe wait a few years to preserve your young ears. Still, you know—red suits. We all match.”

“How do you know I have a no killing policy?” Peter questions, curious more than anything.

“Everyone knows,” Daredevil tells him. “You know, there are a lot more of us out here than you think, kid—you don’t run around in a group, so you haven’t really met any of us, but there are plenty of small time vigilantes that are working in back alleys just like you do, and all of us hear a lot about you. About how good you are.”

Peter finds that hard to believe. “I’m not all that good,” he says warily. “I wish I was.”

“Then you are,” Daredevil tells him.

“But I’m not.”

Daredevil seems to be looking at him, but Peter can’t quite tell. “Why do you think that?”

And Peter tells him, “People I love have gotten hurt. People I love have died. I could have done something to stop it.” He shakes his head and shrugs. “When I look in the mirror, I want to look away. Or break it.”

“That sounds absolutely fucking tragic,” Daredevil tells him, solemn and shocked.

It’s stupid, but Peter laughs.

light

another one from the revolution fic! i love lunella and miles and peter as the sibling dynamic i have for them i will never get over it ok

He doesn’t notice when there’s light footsteps approaching the two of them, doesn’t remember that they’re in the middle of a cafeteria until another hand settles on his shoulder and Lunella softly asks, “Peter?”

“Nelly,” Miles says, tone gentle and patient, and Peter doesn’t know when either of them came closer but hearing them helps his heart settle in his chest, just a little bit. “Let’s give him a minute, okay?”

“No,” Peter rasps, sucking in another sharp breath that makes his lungs burn, but he pushes through it and lifts his head to meet Lunella’s eyes. She’s looking at him with clear worry, and he tries for a smile that he knows is, at best, wobbly and uneven. “It’s okay. I’m okay, Nel.”

Lunella frowns. “No, you’re not,” she says. “You don’t always have to be okay.”

There’s so much knowledge in her voice, and he knows it’s something he’s told her a hundred times, but hearing her say it makes a fresh wave of tears overwhelm him. “You’re right,” he tells her, wiping at his face with the back of his hands. “I’m not okay, but I’m gonna be, okay?”

Lunella’s frown only seem to deepen, just slightly, but she doesn’t push that subject any further, just looks at May and shuffles her feet and asks, “This is her?”

“Yeah,” Peter nods, sitting up fully and looking at May himself, seeing the soft confusion in her eyes. “May, this is Lunella, and that—” he gestures to Miles, who is standing behind Lunella with his hand on her shoulder, looking wary and unsure, “—is Miles. Looney Tunes, Smiles, this is Aunt May.”

“You two know who I am?” May questions, brows rising, just a bit, in question.

Miles nods, shuffles just a tiny bit closer and looks over his shoulder, at where his parents are lingering just a few feet away, looking just as confused as May does. “Yeah,” he says, clears his throat and wraps his arm around Lunella’s shoulders to pull her into a gentle sort of side hug. “Us three were in a cell together, and he, um—Peter used to tell us a bunch of stories whenever we got really scared and couldn’t sleep. A lot of them were about you and—and Ben, and his friends, and stuff.”

May looks at Peter, her eyes watery and a smile pulling at trembling lips. “Honey...”

Peter shrugs. “It helped me, too,” he says. “Telling those stories, I mean. It—It made it easier, y’know?”

“Oh, I missed you so much,” May whispers, pulling Peter back into a warm hug that he melts into without even meaning to, one of her hands holding him while the other tangles in his hair.

cup + bleak

can you tell i love writing fics where harley works at coffee shops? also i'm a firm believer that peter's metabolism is super tricky with coffee and caffeine in general, so i always write him either getting coffee for the taste alone or getting hot chocolate because he'd have to chug like ten coffees to actually feel the effects of it. which is something i just put in chapter 9 of homeward bound actually!

The first time he sees Peter Parker is on a Tuesday evening.

He’s running on three hours of sleep, two energy drinks, and a ten minute nap that he managed to fit in before having to get ready for work. With his apron thrown on over his clothes and his textbooks already weighing down his backpack, he ducks into the coffee shop with two minutes to spare, and the first person he sees is him—a stranger, at the time, with brown curls falling across his forehead in ringlets and a busted lip that miraculously doesn’t split back open when the guy offers a forced, sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” he says, stepping out of the way and holding his coffee cup against his chest, as if protecting it—which makes sense, considering Harley almost knocked it out of the poor guys hand. “I didn’t—”

“My fault,” Harley cuts in, shaking his head. “I’m running late, wasn’t paying attention. Sorry, man.”

The guy seems conflicted, but ducks his head in a nod and murmurs, “Thanks,” before ducking around Harley and making his way out of the café, head angled down, curls falling in front of his eyes.

Harley stares after him for a moment and tells himself not to dwell on it.

Of course, that means the stranger never leaves his mind.

Two days later, he sees the guy again.

It’s after midnight, and Harley is the only one working because they don’t get many customers after sunset, but it’s a college hotspot and it isn’t far fetched to have the occasional student hole up for an all nighter of studying and assignments, so they’re open twenty four hours, anyway. The only reason Harley even accepted the night shift is because the lack of customers gives him plenty of time to get his own shit done, and since it’s his last year at Empire State, there’s plenty of shit for him to, so. It’s a win-win, really.

The guy comes in—Harley doesn’t know his name just yet, won’t learn it until a couple weeks down the line—and it becomes a win-win-win, because Harley is infatuated with the way the ends of the guys lips twitch up, not really a smile, but something close enough to tease at just how attractive his grin would be. His split lip is completely gone, which shouldn’t be possible, but Harley doesn’t focus on that because the split lip has apparently been replaced by a black eye that’s dark purple and kind of green around the edges. “That’s quite a shiner,” Harley comments without thinking—and then thanks the universe for his manager not being here, because Melissa is nice, but she carries customer service like a badge of honor and refuses to let her employees slack off on being polite. “Walk into a lamp post or somethin’?”

The guy snorts, rubs at the bruise and winces at the ache. “Something,” he says, eyes averted towards the ground and his single shoulder shrug half assed at best. Harley kind of wants to press for more information (because he isn’t stupid and he isn’t going to dismiss the fact that this guy could be in a bad situation) but it’s nearing one in the morning and this guy doesn’t seem to be in the mood, already appears a little bit tired, a little bit on the bleak side, and honestly, Harley isn’t in the mood for that kind of questioning, either, so he lets it slide for now and waits for the guy to order. After a few moments of quiet contemplation, he does, eyes squinting up at the menu before asking, “Can I just, uh—a large hot chocolate, please? With extra whipped cream and some caramel, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah,” Harley says. “’Course. That’ll be three seventy five.”

A handful of quarters are plopped onto the counter and pushed over. “Sorry,” the guy murmurs, looking embarrassed. “I was gonna go to the bank, but… didn’t have time, so I only have change right now.”

“I’ve had to fill the tank of my car with nothin’ but nickels and dimes,” Harley reassures, waving a hand through the air dismissively before picking up the quarters to start counting them. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.” The guy still looks sheepishly guilty, but ducks his head in some kind of nod. “Anything else I can get for ya’? Maybe an ice pack, to make sure your eye isn’t gonna fuckin’ fall out, somethin’ like that?”

The twitch of the lips happens—Harley really wants to see this guy smile—but he just shakes his head.

Harley makes the hot chocolate and doesn’t gain the courage to ask for his name.

tags: anyone who wants to do this! your words are:

steal, four, pillow, over, giant, destiny

#my writing #parkner #irondad #revolution fic #the time is now

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feitansluver · 4 years ago

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Two Birds on a Wire (THE PROLOGUE)

a Feitan x Reader series (gender neutral)

Genre: romance, angst, fluff, smidge of violence

Series Summary: If you wish to see the series summary, check out my masterlist (which should be up now, if not just give me 10 mins) which you can access through my pinned navigations post on my blog. It might have a teensy bit of spoilers but nothing too drastic since this is a major wip.

Prologue Summary: This story's beginning takes place before the troupe was even a figment of anyone's imagination. Meteor City is a dangerous place, and many can vouch for me when I say this. The place where good deeds never come truly from the heart, but instead for the chance to get what you wanted from someone else. Here begins the story of how Feitan Portor and Y/n L/n would soon meet, for real this time.

Author's Note: This entire series is inspired by the song "Two Birds" by Regina Spektor. I originally wrote this as a small x reader for a writing sample, but I like it so much, it'll be a series instead. This is going to be a slow burn series. As you can tell from my headcanons, I'm super detailed when it comes to adding backstories. It's even worse w actual stories. I'm not too sure how many chapters this will be but, Please enjoy! reblogs, likes, and constructive criticism is appreciated. Heads up, this will be the shortest 'chapter' of them all, so do be prepared haha. Italicized = Flashbacks!

The aroma of decaying matter engulfed the air like a thick fog, pulling down and wrapping itself around the shiny newcomers to the rather large wasteland of an area. These newcomers weren't wealthy, no, instead, they were here for the ego boost that accompanied the action of them tossing any worthless item that would instantly be scavenged by a poor resident, usually a child since they were small and naturally agile. Well, as agile as they could be growing up eating other's waste. Those bastards with their sickening laughs of arrogance. They'd be frowned upon in a normal society, but here, oh here, this was just what they'd call a Wednesday.

Where exactly is 'here,' you may be asking? To the people passing through, they might've considered it to be hell. Perhaps a dumpster. Hell, they might have even passed through with out even noticing the cries of agony as a mother's child passed away from malnutrition, without noticing the way that no resident seemed to acknowledge anything other than themselves, even the murder of a shopkeep in broad daylight. No, see they're too focused on trying to steal to survive, perhaps even slave away to a more fortunate resident for a chance at life, if you could even call this living. 'Maybe they're just introverted people,' oh how naïve you must be to even succumb to that conclusion. 'Here' there is no such thing as introversion, with this trait, you won't survive for more than 10 minutes.

'Here' is none other than Meteor City.

Coughing could be heard around every corner from the ill, penniless residents who were selling everything in their possession just to survive another miserable day. A feeble attempt truly, it's not as though the medicine was at least 50% likely to cause some sort of change. Nonetheless, Meteor City wasn't too bad, no. Children scurried amongst each other, shouting with smiles upon their somewhat sunken faces as they played along the areas of the city that were truly wastelands. There were no true friends created in Meteor City, but these children have yet to understand.

All except for one. A rather small boy, whether that be from malnutrition or genetics, with black hair and heartless black eyes sat upon an old shipping crate with an uninterested look upon his young face as he watched the children run about. "How pedestrian," was all that came out of his cracked, dehydrated lips. Only an 8-year-old from Meteor would consider playing to be pedestrian. Aside from his shocking attitude, with one glance you could certainly tell he wasn't from here, such 'exotic' features couldn't have been bred in this hellhole. The boy was dressed in what seemed to be traditional Asian clothes, ones that were too big for his figure, all black and seemingly thick yet still lightweight enough to where he wouldn't die from a heat stroke, the word "Feitan" engraved over his left breast. Perhaps this was his name, neither he or the townsfolk new, but it was what they called him when they believed he wasn't looking. He was frequently seen mumbling to himself, and paired with his stone cold gaze, he was deemed "unapproachable" to others, adults and children alike.

"Hey, you!" A call from one of the children pulled Feitan out of his thoughts. The blackette raised his gaze to find another small child before him, taller yes, but no doubt younger, no stranger to his eyes yet not an aly. "My name's Marley. Do you want to play with us?" Feitan rolled his eyes in annoyance and spoke with his broken interpretation of the city's language. "Why would me want t-," He analyzed the other children beside the runt Marley and froze his gaze upon another small child, who was smiling as they spoke to a friend, one he's kept his eye on for a long time.

(Y/n) (L/n).

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

2 years ago, Meteor City, 3rd Person Omniscient

The sky boomed a thunderous roar as lighting flashed across the city. Purples and dark ominous grey's colored over the townsfolk as the rushed their preparations for the storm. Adults were sheltering children, even if they didn't know them, most likely with the promise of something in return, while also taking in whatever possessions they needed before the storm's condition worsened.

A 4-year-old child, Y/n, ran about the poorly made streets, hoping to find a place of shelter before it was too late. Of course, since they're small and malnourished, they weren't very efficient, constantly stumbling over their two feet and pausing to catch their balance.

"Please, somebody help me!"

They continued to run through the now damp streets as the rain began to pour violently. Water drenched the poor child as they ran around banging on doors screaming for help, yet still, no one listened. It was almost as though the entire town had become a ghost city.Just as Y/n was about to give up, a hand grabbed their arm harshly and quickly pulled them into a small, dark, poorly-made shack.

Y/n jumped back in surprise with a yelp only to be pushed down by the other party, quite roughly might I add. "Shhh." A firm, seemingly male voice commanded with no other words as he sat beside the younger child. "Are you going to eat me??" Y/n spoke in a panicked tone. "The old lady by the library told me a story about a demon who comes out during horrible storms and eats the children who are wandering the streets." They cried with their arms curled around their legs, staring at the silhouette in fear beside of them.

The strange savior huffed under his breath. Why did he even pull this idiot into his home. Who was he to be providing shelter for others when he could barely take care of himself? God he never hated himself more until that moment. There was no place for some snotty kid, nor did he want to deal with them either. "Me no eat you. you taste bad, too whiny." Was all the boy said, hoping to get the other to take the hint and shut up.

"O-oh. My name's y/n, what's yours?" The 4-year-old spoke, no longer carrying a fearful tone. The older boy rolled his eyes at how naïve and trusting the other was. He didn't bother answering, and in fact, he never said another word to Y/n for the remaining duration of the storm.

Y/n ended up falling asleep after a while from all of the chaos earlier. The silhouette eyed the child beside him before closing his own eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. Soft snoring was all that was heard by the boy, aside from the pouring rain that is. Falling into his thoughts, he began to drift off into a light, alert slumber. Well, he was until he felt a weight hit his left shoulder.

His eyes shot open as he looked to his left with a scowl upon his face. "Idiot pest." He grumbled agitatedly as he noticed Y/n had fallen asleep on his shoulder. As much as he wanted to push them off, he quite enjoyed the quiet he was now receiving. With an annoyed sigh, he closed his own eyes and drifted to his previous light sleep.

When Y/n awoke with a yawn and began to identify their surroundings, they almost screamed in fear and confusion. They jumped up and racked their brain for some sort of explanation. Wait, it was coming to them now: the mystery boy and him providing them shelter. Properly looking at their surroundings, they noticed were still in the shack; however, this time, they were alone. With a quick glance outside, the small child ran out of the shack, patting themselves down to make sure they still had their items in their pockets.

A sigh of relief escaped their lips as they felt everything there. Digging into their pockets to find their last bit of money to buy a bit of food, Y/n noticed there was a folded piece of poorly maintained paper in their pockets. With a confused hum and a head tilt, they unfolded the piece of paper and read in poor grammar and messy writing:

"You owe me, Brat."

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

They blackette's face remained in a deapan expression as his own eyes locked back with Marley's "Yes, me play." He spoke emotionlessly as he hopped down from his crate, dusting himself off as he began walking closer to the group of children. A handful of yays, yippees, and downright cries of joy could be heard from the crowd of children as they gathered one more player for their game. "Okay, great. So here's what we're going to play.."

The voices blurred and faded into nothingness as the eight-year-old fell into his cunning mind, his eyes yet again landed on Y/n with his usual piercing gaze. Only difference was that this time, there was a twinge of excitement and malice, lots of malice.

God how he wanted to make them pay. A total troglodyte they were, so ignorant and easily distracted by such trivial things.

You see, Feitan never got back that favor, and he certainly wasn't one to hold back when it came to exploiting others. Especially younger, naïve children who hadn't seen nor understood just how horrific the world could be. How horrific he could make their world be.

Go ahead, call him a monster. It's such a common title for him, he might've even believed it were his own name if it hadn't been for the thread engraved onto his shirt.

Feeling eyes watching them, Y/n turned to face the newer strange boy with their head tilted in confusion. The blackette walked over to the younger child, the two of them standing at the same height. "Hello." Feitan spoke up with a small smile and a friendly wave. It certainly looked realistic and Y/n couldn't feel any malicious intent within the other boy, though if only they knew how fake that smile was. "Hey there! I'm Y/n, what's your name?" The child spoke with a close-eyed smile as they waved in return.

'Oh this was going to be fun.' The boy thought with an inward chuckle of sadism.

Feitan Portor wasn't one to forgive and forget. Hell, he came from Meteor City, the place where every good action was never from the heart but instead the manipulative portion of people's minds. No matter who or what he had to go through,

He was getting back what he owed, and he was expecting it NOW.

#Two Birds on a Wire: The Series #feitansluver #feitan x reader #slowburn #feitan portor x reader #feitan #feitan portor hxh'#feitan portor #hxh #phantom troupe #phantomtroupe #would you believe me if I said I plan on making this a romance series?

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gagmebucky · 4 years ago

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hiiii i wrote this awhile ago but took it down because i was 👉🏼👈🏼 embarrassed about it (because i do not have the skill to pull off peter parker) and sorta still am but everyone’s been so nice to me about it i thought the best way to repay the kindness by posting it for those who did like it 😅 (originally inspired by spider man 2 with andrew garfield but loosely set in the 2018 issue of the amazing spider-man.)

in which the guys are making fun of peter and accidentally see a video of him fucking you. (includes avenger!peter x girlfriend!you, peter’s pov, voyeur!steve and voyeur!bucky, a sex tape featuring d/s dynamics, bondage, praise kink, exhibitionism, unprotected sex.)

do not repost.

—

Despite being twenty-one years old; a proper adult who lives with his high school sweetheart, a photographer doubling as a seven-year veteran vigilante in the dangers of New York, Peter Parker is still considered as a super-powered amateur to his seasoned peers.

Nonetheless, given his success in countless battles in the state, country, world and even galaxy-wide, he more than qualifies to hold the title of Avenger; it’s official now. A laid-back induction ceremony and his very own identity card: a sturdy rectangle, shiny with full clearance and all. Yet, as an official member, his teammates still treat him like he’s that same goofy, out-of-his-depths sixteen year old.

To be fair, yes, his style of heroism isn’t the most serious. He favors levity in the face of danger, a cheeky flare with smart quips and an infuriating grin. Even after taking a beating from the worst of foes, his demeanor never wavers because in the end, he wins. The villains are slayed and the people are saved, even comforted by the boyishly confident way he works.

But beyond that persona, he has grown into a skilled warrior. On that note, he wants to be regarded as such—at least, to a certain extent. The jokes and teasing, poking fun at his age or the shenanigans he gets himself into, don’t bother him. No, his playful wit handles it with relative ease, and he’s a good sport about it. The only thing that he’d want to see change is some recognition that he isn’t a naïve kid anymore and is fully capable of taking charge when needed.

With his recent acceptance into the gifted pantheon, he’s intent on making that known. The jesting can continue but he wants it to be with an understanding of his capabilities. Luckily, a perfect opportunity has presented itself to showcase his abilities: a training session.

He’s late. And yes, he knows that’s probably not a good impression to make.

In his own defense, it isn’t technically his fault. He forgot that you, his personal alarm clock (amongst other things), left early this morning because you volunteered to help his aunt move. Four years of mornings and nights, he’s gotten used to—and prefers—your languorous wake-up call.

Without your reminder, he regains consciousness fifteen minutes after the scheduled time and ends up scrambling to the compound. In a flurry, he throws on his suit—unknowingly backwards, he realizes later—trips at least three times over his own footing before he finally springs out of the balcony with webbed bursts.

When he reaches his destination, Captain America and the Winter Soldier are unimpressed; mid-simulation, it powers down. Both super-soldiers whirl around to face him, fixing raised eyebrows at his disheveled arrival.

He adjusts his now front-facing suit and shuffles forward into the space with as much confidence as an interrupter can have. “H - hey, guys,” Peter greets sheepishly and manages what he hopes is a charming smile, absentmindedly fidgeting with his phone. “Lookin’ good for a couple of geezers.”

Unfortunately, Steve Rogers is not charmed or disillusioned from the tardiness. “You’re late, Parker.” His arms fold, and he shakes his head when punctuating his disapproval with an echoing, “Again.”

Thankfully, to his right, more relaxed and cool, Bucky Barnes steps up. “C’mon, Stevie. Y’can’t be that surprised,” he chimes in matter of factly, contrasting against his friend with amusement sparkling in his blue eyes. “What’d you expect with Parker?” He gestures at the younger superhero. “Kid’s gonna be late to his own wedding.”

(Beside the point, but worth noting, he will not be late to meeting you at the altar. That is, of course, if you accept when he pops the question. Which is going to happen relatively soon, considering he has the ring in his nightstand drawer.)

The consult seems to relax him. “Yeah, I guess you’re right and—Peter, you—seriously, man?!” Steve sputters the last bit when he glanced over to see him blatantly check the notification that’s vibrated in his hand (on the device that is ruled to be stowed away during training). “Now the phone?!”

Even though he shouldn’t, being on thin ice with Cap and all (pun not intended), Peter’s gaze flickers down to see your contact name appear on the screen, and he can’t resist. While Bucky guffaws a laugh at his audacity, he’s swiping up to pull up your text thread.

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:37AM: spider boyyyyy you’ll never guess what i found in a box labeled ‘peter’s junk’ ;;;)

peter, 10:37AM: those magazines are NOT mine and i don’t know how they got there.

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: not quite but close, naughty boy

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: for a man who depends on keeping secrets and a penchant for home movies, you might ought to keep a lock on your phone unless you want someone to see me like this...

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: (video attached)

Immediately, he recognizes the pornographic thumbnail. One glance, and he’s remembering the first couple of times you guys explored the exhibitionism side of things. It was at the end of his freshman year of college and taped on a phone he thought he had lost. But he must've forgotten it at his aunt’s house, and she tossed it in the box until you came along.

Although there’s been plenty more made, he recalls that one being a shared favorite, his especially. When long-distance duty calls, it was his go-to media. The angles, your face and body beneath the lights, the sounds it caught, you once asked if he considered switching to cinematography instead of photographer

Subconsciously, his teeth run over his bottom lip, feeling that blazing spark of desire igniting in the pit of his gut, partially at the memory and partially at what’ll happen once you guys can re-watch it together; his thumbs start typing away with that message.

“Peter!” Steve’s exasperated voice snaps, but to no avail—the real gall of the youngster, or the effect of you. His weight shifts toward his best friend, and he nudges him with his elbow. “Kids these days!” The hundred-something year old’s gaze cocks a brow back over. “Is that why you were late? Blowing off training to text your girlfriend?”

The text delivers with an audible bloop. Finally, his concentration gives, and he can look up, though his expression is clueless from the last minute. “Huh?” His brain registers what he missed, and he winces. “Sorry, Cap. My bad.”

Bucky chuckles. “Give him a break, Steve,” he faux comes to his defense, a teasing quality underlying his tone. “He’s young and in love. It’s not his fault he’s pussy-whipped.” He cracks him an antagonizing grin as Peter rolls his eyes. “He can’t go an hour without sending those little weird pictures with heart eyes, or she might not know he’s thinking about her.”

“As if you know anything about romance, old man,” he fires back and presses past them with squared shoulders, correcting him quite seriously: “And they’re called emojis, by the way. But that’s not what I was doing, if you want to know so bad.”

The brunette tilts his head thoughtfully, and small hackles arise for reasons he doesn’t understand, or pay attention to. “You know, I do want to know really badly,” Bucky decides and poses a question to his left, “Wouldn’t you, too, Steve? Aren’t you curious what his girlfriend sent that was so much more important than training?”

The blond mimics his actions and clicks his tongue. “Yeah, I am.”

Peter’s eyebrows pinch while his skin tingles and the hair on the back of his neck stands straight up. “What—” Before his senses process it, one of the super-soldiers plucks his phone out of his hands and darts back beside his best friend. His jaw drops as he tries to follow after him. “Bucky, you asshole—”

“Some spidey senses, huh?” The Winter Soldier lifts it high over his head, utilizing his six-foot stature against his five-ten like elementary school bullies do and older siblings to their juniors. “Haven’t ‘cha heard about sharing with the class?” He laughs and practically stiff-arms him to squint up at the screen. “Aw, he can��t wait to see her. What’s it been, more than two hours since you two saw each other last?”

Conceding to the height difference, Peter stops his physical efforts and diverts it to someone reasonable. “Cap, you gonna help me out here?” he addresses the entertained onlooker in the most friendly voice he can manage.

“The kid’s got separate anxiety not just from his girlfriend but phone too, Buck,” Steve drawls with a lopsided curve of his lips. He side-steps Peter to stand next to Bucky, and for a second, he thinks he’s on his side despite the tease, but he simply adds a stern, “So be careful. You don’t want to break it, or Parker will have a fit.”

Peter crosses his arms and scowls. “Ha, ha,” he retorts dryly, only somewhat amused by their banter. He tilts his head up at them, and the duo look thoroughly pleased with themselves. “You know, you guys are kind of dicks.”

“No, we’re your mentors, kid,” Steve corrects with a wink and rests his arm on his friend’s shoulder. “This is a lesson. No phones—” He jabs his thumb back in reference to the device’s unlocked screen: “—when you’re supposed to be training.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chimes in upon glancing up from his phone. “And a little advice, women don’t like clinginess. Try being a little more stern and see how that works for you. If you’re able to manage that. But I won’t hold it against ya if you can’t.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter patronizes with a bob of his head, biting back a response pointing out the hundred-something year old’s inexperience. Instead, he focuses on the electronic readily loaded up with some private content. With that, he decides to do the rational and mature thing and ask nicely. “Noted. So, uh, can I have my phone back now?”

To his shock, Bucky merely flashes a smirk and his thumb scrolls half-heartedly over the thread. Thereafter, he leans toward Steve and raises his cell for him to see. “Oh, look, it’s a video,” he teases. “What could Y/N send that would take priority of training?”

There’s an unspoken let’s see then a metal finger taps the play button. Before Peter can think, much less react, Captain American and the Winter Soldier are watching how he effortlessly renders his pretty little girlfriend into a cute nonsensical yet eager mess—

In his point-of-view shot, the ratio holds in portrait view in a bid to capture every bit of you. Above you, the camera focuses on you and your beautifully debauched state beneath warm lighting where it’s unalienable that the camera was made for you.

Your eyes are dilated brightly, desperate with desire as your lashes flutter up at him. A sheen coats your features and glistens like glitter at the highest points of your face while the shape of your face is framed by your stretched arms.

Your wrists are bound over your head, splotched with expertly sprayed strong, white webs. The mesh sticks them together in a criss-cross, comfortable but nearly impossible to break out of, fixed in place atop his headboard. The tautness tugs a mild strain on your figure so your breasts are jutting out like an offering, and it’s obvious he’s taken advantage of it. Darkened marks adorn your glowing complexion, peppered across your décolletage with imprints of his teeth; including your nipples, sucked swollen and tender.

The angle trails down until it reveals the sight of him mercilessly pounding inside of you. His better-than-average girth is sliding in and out of your tight channel; slicked in shared translucent essence, creaming around the base, your inner walls visibly clinging to his cock with every backward stroke. His hand splays on your mound, using his thumb to abuse your engorged clit. He easily keeps the sensitive nub pinned under his control despite your wildly twisting hips.

Like the display, the soundtrack is equally obscene. Loud, your stuffed depths gush and squelch as skin slaps rhythmically. Your breathy, wanton moans overshadow both, drawn out whimpers, almost nonsensical other than the syllable of his name. A melody of neediness, you sound so fucking pretty, (depraved, like a whore, you once told him during your little film marathon with a sly smile), and for him specifically.

The frame pans upward and confirms you look just as good. A perfect mess, unhinged by the skilled ministrations of your boyfriend. Passion beads on your forehead like reflections off of a diamond. Panting, your lips are plumped from kissing parted with mewls of pleasure.

“P - please—I need to—can I - I please—” You’re begging like the sweet little thing you are, incoherent babbling the result of his excessive edging. Of course, you know better than to give into the sensations ravaging you; instead you ignore your visceral desire and ask him for your release. “Peter, please!”

A deep chuckle vibrates behind the camera as his big hand slides into view, trailing over your jiggling tits to the slope of your throat. “Maybe,” he says breathily and grasps the line of your jaw between his fingers. “Open your mouth first, babe.”

No more preamble necessary, you follow his direction, your pink tongue flat over your Cupid’s bow. Immediately, a long string of his saliva drips into view and onto your taste buds; the vulgar act is accepted with a swallow and a quivering moan of, “T - thank you.”

“Good girl,” he praises huskily, and the voiced approval has you visibly shivering. “Alright, then, pretty girl. Make it good for me, and c’mon—”

Before your otherworldly reckoning washes over you and his teammates can watch your bliss immortalized in film, Peter snatches his property back.

Not much force is necessary as Bucky’s grip has been stunned loose. A dark expression permeates on young hero’s face but not because of embarrassment; if he was still nineteen or eighteen, he would’ve been mortified that his titular superiors caught a depraved glimpse of his sex life, on both his and your behalf. Rather than, there’s just a flit of annoyance when he folds his arms.

“Shit,” Bucky is the first to speak, exhaling the swear raggedly. His blue pupils have widened in obvious attraction, dilated dark, blinking rapidly as if it’ll help calm him down from the clip of you, his innocent seeming girlfriend, all ruined and begging. “Parker, fuck, I - I didn’t know you got down like that.”

There’s a swell in his chest, pride beating steadily while he remains reticent-faced. He prefers you keep your bedroom activities secluded there. Yeah, he likes to be in control and you like to be controlled but it’s only in a sexual nature. Yet, their reactions—stunned, embarrassed and viscerally affected—surges smug satisfaction he’s never known before through his veins.

Even the prestigious Captain America is bothered, though he may try to hide it. He clears his throat, a flustered pink coloring his cheeks. “Peter, uh,” he says, barely maintaining the confidence to look him in the eye after witnessing his girlfriend like that. “We - we shouldn’t have invaded your privacy like that.”

“Uh-huh,” is Peter’s response, a hint of a smirk curling on one side of his lips. “Why don’t you guys call me after you’re finished with your cold showers, and we can actually train. Until then, I’m gonna go to my girl who’s more than eager to handle mine.” He pauses. “Maybe if you guys ask nice enough, I might let her show you how well I’ve trained her.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #marvel smut imagines #spiderman x reader smut #marvel smut #heh I am going to pass out #I..#goodnight im off me ass sjdjjsxj

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piraticalarchive · 3 years ago

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okay so for everyone who hates big corporations and management who takes advantage of their employees.. this one’s for you. it’s long but .... i find it completely hilarious.

so a brief recap: amy got fired back in march from a huge international retailer, yes? when things first started like they were going south, i worked on really re establishing a relationship with my brother who is like one level below C-suite (cfo, ceo, etc etc) of that same company because i had an idea in mind. March rolls around, amy gets fired .. and I’m like .. okay. time to put this in motion. but stress and depression obviously took the motivation away from me, but i continued to keep that line of communication up with my brother. we started talking weekly, sometimes twice a week via an actual call. well, i’m finally feeling better .. so this week i finally put my plan in motion. here’s how it went

stage 1: i sent a text to my brother asking if i applied to the store in my area if i could use him as a reference. he said, of course but every store is hiring so i’d look at any store besides that one. (which is already fucking hilarious but i digress) ... so i call the store and one of the managers who sat in on amy’s firing answers when i ask to speak to someone involved in hiring (oh lucky day). I start off with “hi! I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve been looking for a job thats a bit of a change of scenery and my brother is the *insert position name* and works in *insert headquarters location* and he recommended i give the company a try despite that I had a less than stellar experience last time”. And this manager FALLS OVER telling me they are hiring for so many positions blah blah blah and then at the end when i’m like “thanks for the information! I’m definitely going to apply!” she’s like “of course! I’ll give our hiring manager your information so she can pull it immediately. Whats your name?” and i give my name and suddenly its just dead fucking silent... because they know who I am and they know that I’m in a relationship with amy and that i know what they did. But she recovers and is like ‘can’t wait to see your application!’ .. so.. okay. stage 1 was a success. but then, enter...

unexpected event: the store manager himself calls me. Starts off with some small talk, finally gets around to saying ‘so I hear you’d like to come back and work for us? I was looking at your previous application and I didn’t see any mention of the relation you talked about when you called”. And I’m like “oh, yeah... I don’t like using stuff like that because I’d prefer to get in on my own merit and skills and not by a family member’s position. Plus its like that show undercover boss, you know? I get to see what the place is like before they know. BUT given with what happened to amy, I was unsure if I’d even be considered without a reference like that” and he laughs nervously and is like “i totally get it. So did anyone know that you had a brother in that position?” and I’m like “oh i mentioned it once in passing to [amy’s manger] but I just said my brother was in corporate and there are a lot of levels so i think he just left it at that” and the store manager is like ‘haha yeah different levels but thats like ... its own level...” and we talk a little bit and he’s like “what made you want to come back?” and I’m like “like i mentioned before, the amy thing really threw me off. I was angry and the good thing about siblings is you don’t have to sugarcoat stuff. So I went to my brother and was like this is how you treat people?? are you kidding?? what about job security?? and i sent him the picture amy had snapped of her discharge papers where it listed the reason and he told me that, and everything else I yelled at him about, wasn’t the company’s way and that the store had seriously violated something. So for one, I now know that isn’t actually something that should have happened and two, i inadvertently brought this store to corporate’s attention and there are a lot of good people who work here, and they don’t deserve the consequences of that, so I want to help make it right” and he’s fucking sweating yall, I can hear it over the phone. and he’s like “fill out your application and put whatever you want down and we’ll call you and talk about positions and we can find a way to give you what you want” and I’m like “oh, don’t tell me that nick because your chair is looking awfully good right now” and he did a nervous laugh. SO, unexpected event made my plan even better. Then we get to:

Stage 2: I apply. I check literally every management position, including the one they fired amy from and also some hourly positions and put down ridiculous hours. I pass the manager test with flying colors and when it asks why i said i want to be a team trainer i wrote down ‘thanks to knowing the home office, i know how things should work and I want to help this store raise its position in the district and I know what policies aren’t being followed to help make that raise smoother.” I submitted the application, called the first manager I had spoken to and told her I had done so and she was like “I’m sure we’ll give you a call tomorrow!” ‘Tomorrow’ came and by 7 that night, they hadn’t contacted me. So I went to the ‘we’re hiring’ image they had posted on their facebook page like an hour previously and tagged my brother and was like ‘dude this is one of the positions at my store i was telling you about. think i could pull it off?” AND BAM ! they sent me a request for a phone interview at 8am the next morning. I scheduled my interview for later that afternoon at 2:45 and we enter Stage 3.

Stage 3: Amy and I go to the store to pick up a few things. It’s suddenly fucking spotless. There are no gaps in the shelves, the floor has been cleaned since the last time we were there (monday night and i called them tuesday and it is now white and shiny as hell) and they have the lights turned up all the way so you can actually see. EVERY FUCKING AISLE is perfect. Cat food? perfect. Funko pops? stacked and lined up perfectly. Video games? Filled. Clearance aisle? Perfect order. Like its super obvious they did a mad dash and tried to get the store in shape. So amy and I walk down every single aisle and point things out and kind of put our heads together and talk and I take out my phone and act like i’m texting etc .. basically we’re just fucking with people’s heads because the managers are nearby and they can see what we’re doing.

Stage 4: So later we’re home and 2:45 comes and goes with NO word. No phone call, no email, no hey can we reschedule. they FORGOT about the interview. I’m dying because they’re making it even better and even easier to fuck with them. So I text my brother (who KNOWS my mental health has been in the trash) and I’m like “I filled out an application just to see and they set up an interview and blew me off. You were right .. not a great help when it comes to the blues” and he was like “yep...i’d look at literally any other store” and talked to me a bit more about it. He was irritated that they’d do that and kept saying they were on thin ice. Finally at 5 they text me and they’re like “hey, this is the [insert store] and we’re sorry we missed your interview. I wanna apologize. Can we reschedule?” And I wait like an hour and a half (i was napping, i’ll admit it) but I respond with “I apologize for the late response, I had a prior commitment I had to take care of. Unfortunately, I reached out to someone [they know who it is. they know] in the off chance I had misunderstood the process since I hadn’t heard from you guys and I was encouraged to pursue opportunities at other branches in the area. Thank you for the original consideration and I hope you have a great day!” and they waited until 11am the next day to reply back which I’m assuming is because they were waiting for the higher up management to return to the store.

Come to find out the managers are still basically pissing themselves and freaking out because not only did they a) fire someone against company policy and now know the people at the top know and b) drop the ball and forget to interview a family member of said people at the top ... I got to add salt in the wound one more time by mentioning that my brother dropped in a lot (he doesn’t) and that I’d love to show off the store since it’s such a huge part of the community and it was looking better than I’d ever seen it look. And that it would be nice because he’d get the real experience since it wasn’t a formal, announced visit .... but, of course, that he’s salary .. so the policy is that he’s always ‘at work’ and obligated to take note of things.

so basically, i feel justified. Six and a half months of careful planning and maneuvering was totally justified. 10/10, I’d do it again. Let this be a lesson that patience in planning vengeance is completely worth having and I hope I helped make the store better for employees who aren’t management by putting the fear of god into them with the idea that my brother or anyone else from his office can just drop the fuck in whenever they want with a totally casual visit that could still fuck the management over completely. This is a good week, mates .. a very good week. Am I petty? yes. Do i hate their guts and feel like it was an entertainment that was totally worth it given what they did to the love of my life? also yes.

#also if they checked - i'm facebook friends with their international corporate lawyer. my brother obviously and the cfo who i didn't realize #at first was him bc he goes by a different name via facebook. like last name is the same but i think he uses his middle name as his first #i love it. i love it so much.#i planning on doing more stuff but i gotta take a breather and plan it carefully but #god i am L IVING #fuck that place #we laugh because i'm known here for messing with companies that fuck with people #and i did my best one like 3 years ago but amy was just like 'this is 10 miles beyond that'#long post //#i'm sorry for this but i just want to let everyone know the major reason for my incredible mood this week

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vydante · 4 years ago

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Restart | 12

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Avengers x Male! Reader (romantically: multiple)

A/N: Missed y'all. I don't think I'm officially off of my hiatus, but I somehow managed to pull a chapter out of my ass after months of radio silence. I really did back myself into a corner with the last chapter, but hey, this is my story and I get to pace it however I want.

Sorry if things are worded weirdly, I'm writing them but they're going through one ear and out the other when it comes to comprehending what I actually wrote. No one will remember what happened, but that's okay. God, I really need a beta-reader... Anyways. Love y'all. XOXO.

Also, sorry if any of the formattings seems off. HTML doesn't really translate well over certain sites. (Tumblr, Quotev, Wattpad, and AO3 are now my main places for posting my works. Anywhere else, that's not me nor was it permitted by me.)

If you want a recap: You're in the process of jumpstarting Project Renaissance after realizing that you've just been doing basically nothing ever since you woke up in your old body. You've also taken to making video logs to report down your progress, and in the last chapter (that was in the POV of multiple video logs), it ended on a cliffhanger with Barnes being discovered and moved to a safe house.

This chapter takes place roughly after the last one.

If you're currently binge reading this story, this recap is only because last chapter was updated... Roughly more than 7 months before this chapter. So. Yeah. :D

Oh, and let's pretend that either A. Barnes doesn't have a tracking chip in his arm OR B. he did, but you got it out during the whole rescue-escapade. That's my bad, I straight up forgot about that possibility until I was like, close to 4000 words deep into this chapter. Now we're at roughly 8k+... Hehe. Whoops.

_______

You're not gonna call Barnes, Bucky.

There's a personal touch to the nickname that bothers you. How awful it sounds in your ears, to call the former husk of a man a name he no longer recognizes. There's history to that name, both on writing and in memory, though only in sparsity. Plus, it'll be difficult for you to associate Bucky to Barnes. A man with an identity to a man without.

So after the whole debacle of getting him out of the mini-Hulk playbox and into decent dry clothing, when he asks what his name is, you quietly debated to yourself what to tell him.

"... Your name is James Buchanan Barnes," you'd eventually reply.

He doesn't comment on the resignation in your tone, but you're confident that he certainly noticed it- surely, the ticks of being the Winter Soldier was still there, no matter how disoriented he must be. But whether courtesy was something that he hadn't forgotten whilst his brain was refried over and over like leftover KFC wings or he was simply too exhausted to ask, you didn't care.

Granted, for a man who should have a lot of questions on his mind, he's definitely proven himself to be a man of very few words.

An hour goes by, and in the midst of you trying your best to build a solid standing between the two of you, he's said so few words that you could probably count all of them on both of your hands.

If it weren't for the nods of affirmation, you'd think that his averted gaze from you would have meant that he wasn't paying attention at all, but honestly, you knew better than to judge him for that if he actually wasn't actually listening in the first place.

Hell, he could tear up the walls to the high heavens and you still wouldn't hold him against it, so you were just thankful that he was so docile, for someone who could snap your neck if he felt so inclined.

Though, as it turns out confusion and disorientation wasn't the actual reason why he was being so docile, you belatedly realize as you're stood in front of a blank-faced Barnes. You're in the middle of trying to give him a basic tour around the house when he quietly interrupted your monologuing.

"Mission parameters," you echoed his words, though mainly to yourself. He nods, and for once meets your eyes. There's neither confidence nor surrender in his eyes, and that makes your stomach churn. Chances are, he probably saw nothing wrong with asking such a thing.

"You want me to give you- mission parameters. Like- like your handlers would?" You laughed incredulously, but the humor was replaced with subdued hysterical horror.

You were aware of what they were. Aware of the types of hunts his Handlers- bastards- would sick him out on. Aware of what he did without a second thought. You saw those files, if only briefly. That was more than enough for you to see the type of expectations that came alongside "mission parameters".

He nods as if you were stating the obvious.

God.

You opened and closed your mouth, and for a split second, once you got past the horror of being asked to tell him what to do, a subtle realization crawled up your spine. In the midst of your impromptu introduction and briefing, you never really made a distinction as to what role you were supposed to play in all of this.

So it shouldn't be a surprise for Barnes to assume that you're his new- what? Handler? Caretaker? After all, as far as you can assume, that's probably all he knows; all he was conditioned to grow accustomed to, to expect his every move to be dictated by some outsider with no care to the wants or needs that Barnes has.

(Hell, if you were to make a reach right now, maybe Barnes thinks he doesn't have wants or needs. That he shouldn't.)

(In the background, a part of you simmer in silence.)

With your jaw clenched, you make an effort to make your voice as even as can be when you ask him, "You don't need mission parameters, Barnes. You're your own free man. You can- can make decisions on your own. You don't need me to tell you what you need to do."

Pray as you might, there's something about realizing that you said the wrong thing right after saying said words that make you wonder what you did to anger the higher powers that be to put yourself in the situation you're in right now.

Barnes doesn't say anything, but his eyes says it all. Confusion. Realization. Grief. Detachment. His metal hand clenches, and you're man enough to admit that it made your heart stutter in fear.

"I...", he mutters, "... don't understand."

You swallowed.

This...

This is gonna be tough.

_______

It's difficult to explain what self-autonomy and freedom meant to a man who is only capable of remembering being chained and held on a leash like a rabid dog.

Thankfully, it was your winter break, so you had a manageable excuse for being away from "home" for a few days, but you only had so long to try and establish to Barnes that you're not going to be able to be there with him as often as you are now (and even then, the time frame was too small to even make any sense of attachment).

You knew for sure you couldn't always be there for Barnes, so one thing was certain: he had to meet DAHLIA. And thankfully, since the whole safe house was yours, not even your father knew that DAHLIA, your own A.I., would be uploaded into the houses' built-in hardware.

(While the hardware was built with the intention of housing J.A.R.V.I.S. there as a standard, he ended up "moving out" the moment that the house became yours. Something about "not intruding on a teenager's privacy", but you're more than thankful for Tony's afterthought, even if you did end up taking slight advantage of his consideration.)

And surprisingly enough, Barnes wasn't really bothered by the concept of DAHLIA as much as you had initially expected. Of course, he didn't really talk to her, but it wasn't like he talked much in the first place.

(On a side note, it looks like DAHLIA seems to like the house, all things considered... So there's that.)

(The original DAHLIA was never installed here, instead she ended up "living" in a retirement house of sorts in a wooded area of New York. She never said anything about the house, so it's... Kind of endearing, to see that she actually might prefer this house instead. And mildly insulting, considering you personally decorated the other house.)

You ended up spending nearly the whole night trying to establish even the most basic of guidelines: use the bathroom whenever he needed to (you initially said phrased it as "wanted", but he promptly cut you off saying "The Asset does not have wants," which, rude, but also sad); whatever is in the kitchen is available for him to eat whenever, where ever; basic hygiene; and the most important one- if he had any questions, his first source would be you. And on the off-chance that you're not available, DAHLIA is always online and ready to help.

He gave a tentative nod, but you're somehow not confident that he might have interpreted it wrong. You're hoping he doesn't do anything to prove you right.

"Alright. So. Any questions?"

He stares at you for a beat too long before shaking his head.

He's still giving non-verbal answers for the most part, but it's better than nothing. You internally sighed and motioned him to follow you deeper into the safe house.

Considering that it was already pretty late by the time you managed to beat those guidelines into his head (maybe that should be worded better, but you never claimed to be a lyricist; it is what it is), he might be just as tired as you are from how long the day has been.

(Granted, this dude has been "asleep" for who knows how long, but it's the thought that counts.)

"You know where I'm taking you to?" you asked, not really expecting an answer from him.

"No," he responds from behind you. Color you surprised.

You turned into the hallway and stepped up to an unassuming door. You opened it to reveal an equally unassuming bedroom. Muted colors, modern design; it reeked Pepper's doing, knowing that Tony isn't as decoratively-inclined as she is.

Hah, bet she didn't expect that instead of housing you or your dad, it'll go to a super-solder that wasn't Steve instead.

(Not that Steve would ever have a reason to step foot in here, but in this line of work, you'd be stupid to be 100% sure about something.)

You motioned him to come into the room and tilted your head to the bed.

"This is your bedroom, pretty much where you'll be sleeping. There's a bathroom right over there," you motioned to the door adjacent to the entrance door, "and I'll be in the room right next to yours."

Barnes takes a second to process it all, and with a quick scan of the room with calculating eyes, he nods. You absentmindedly scratched the back of your neck.

"I mean, there's plenty of rooms here so if you don't like this one, just let me know and we'll probably move you to another room-" you rambled, secretly trying to get a move on so you'd finally get some shut-eye.

(What? You're not perfect, sleep is heavily slept on in this day and age. Hah.)

(God, you're definitely going to hell.)

"-and you know how to use a toilet, right?"

The raised eyebrow pointed at you definitely proves that that was a pretty stupid question, but hey, you can't take any chances. You shrugged, a tired smirk threatening to form on your lips.

"Well then. Can I leave it to you to settle down for the night, or...?" you left it open-ended.

He didn't say anything in response, only stared at the bed in front of him. There was a pregnant pause, but he nodded at you. There was a strange tilt to his eyes, but you didn't bother to think further into it as you were just thankful that you could finally rest.

"Well then, good night Barnes. I'll come by tomorrow morning and we'll continue to, er," you thought about it, "work, on your situation."

You made a swift exit out of his room and immediately into "your" room, which was literally right next to his. You immediately discarded your clothes and with a brisk shower and teeth brushing, you promptly dropped straight onto the bed with an audible grunt, wet hair soaking straight into the pillow.

Pulling the plush duvet to cover your body, you reached for your phone to check for any messages you might have gotten.

(3 from Tony; he asked where you were. You told him that you're staying at a safe house and that you needed a small break. It wasn't wrong, but definitely an omission of truth. A few days would be fine, right?)

(2 from Rhodey; it's a picture of a Goodwill's, and there's a silhouette in a nearby window of some guy. "This you?" he asks. "No ❤️," you sent back.)

(63 is from the group chat that the Avengers are in- ah, make that 64 and counting. It's just a bunch of nonsense from what you can gather, but you briefly scrolled through it anyways.)

Turning your phone off, you smushed your face into the pillow and sighed, a terrible knot forming at the pit of your stomach. With an open ear, you tried to hear any noise that could come from Barnes' room, but considering that the walls were reinforced and he was already quiet as it is, all you could hear was the AC running in the background.

"DAHLIA," you huffed, eyes drooping, "keep an eye on him, wake me up if anything happens."

"Got it," her voice echoes from the ceiling speakers.

You quietly tucked yourself in bed. As the exhaustion finally started settling in your body, the last thought that lingered in your head was "Man, I hope nothing bad happens tomorrow," before you drifted right off to dreamless slumber.

_______

The next day was, to say the least, a little disconcerting, but a bigger improvement to be sure.

Right after waking up, you begrudgingly put on some daytime appropriate clothes and stepped out into the hallway. You knocked on the door that was right next to yours, and gingerly opened it when you didn't hear much of a response.

"Good morning," you tentatively greeted. Barnes was sitting at the foot of the bed when you knocked on his door. He mumbled back a greeting and stands up to your eye level.

His clothes are still the same from last night, and judging by the clean state of his bed, he either woke up earlier than you expected or he was sat like that the whole night.

You're not too keen on finding out which was the case, but you had to.

"Sleep well?"

You stepped out of the doorway and motioned him to follow you. Briefly glancing down at your phone to see just a few messages waiting for you, you opted to ignore them for now.

"I slept."

He quietly stated from behind you. He avoided saying if he slept well or not, but at least the damn Terminator slept. You mentally deflated a little; the bar was set so low for him, you're not too sure who it's more insulting to- you or him.

(Of course, it's to him, that shouldn't be a question. Your feelings don't matter.)

"We're gonna have to wing this a little, but uh, here's the general gist of what's gonna happen."

Stepping into the kitchen, you're taken aback to last night as he tentatively stands across from you from the kitchen island. Really, you'd opt to go to the living room, but you both radiate too much nervous energy to really sit.

You opened the refrigerator and sighed when all that greeted you was water and non-perishables. Right. You just got here, it's not like there's gonna be freshly stocked food in here 24/7.

"DAHLIA, order some fresh food and get it delivered today. Charge it on my debit," you mumbled quietly.

DAHLIA doesn't say anything, but the refrigerator lights flicker a familiar green hue that keys you in that she heard you. You raised an impressed eyebrow; what an unnecessary feature for a refrigerator to have. You closed the door and turned around to face Barnes.

"I'm here to serve as, say, a guide for," you gestured to him, "your... rehabilitation, of sorts."

"For now, I can't really offer any... Professional help, on a technical level. I'm not- that's not my area of expertise. I'm an engineer at heart," actually, you really liked other things more than being an engineer, but your fate of becoming the CEO of SI was sealed the moment you decided to live with your dad, "so we're going to have to make a compromise on that."

You shook your head.

"If you were anyone else, I'd point you to a shrink," Barnes gives you a confused stare.

"Therapist," you clarified. He nods.

"But quite frankly," Zemo's face flashes in your memory, "I don't trust anyone to properly... Well, I don't trust anyone when it comes to the mental health of you, and the Avengers too, of course."

Pausing mid-rant, you raised an eyebrow at him.

"You... do know who the Avengers are, right?"

He nods and begins to rattle off a pre-scripted monologue. His eyes are blank as he started speaking.

"A group of top priority, compromised of highly skilled individuals, enhanced or otherwise specified. Threat priority ranges from 5 to 9. As of now, 6 active-duty members and 1 reserve member. The Asset is to not engage under any circumstance and reveal-"

"Alright alright, I get it- that's," you're a little offended that you're considered a "reserve member", but that's not technically wrong, "That's a lot to unpack there, but yeah. You- whew, you definitely know who the- we are."

(You've gotten into the habit of distancing yourself from the Avengers the moment that you had become CEO. You're still working on that, but the word "we" still feels wrong on your tongue.)

There's a little more life that came back to Barnes' eyes after you had snapped him out of it, and it's a bit surreal knowing that Barnes just kinda... runs on autopilot when prompted. The image of Barnes being strapped down in a chair and forced to learn and recite those kinds of things by heart is both horrifying and a little funny.

(Do you think they had a set curriculum he had to learn by?)

"So yeah. The Avengers gotta be careful when lookin' for shrinks, and so do you. There's just too many factors that go into gettin' a personal therapist. So for now," you shrugged, "you're stuck with me."

"What are they?"

"Hm?"

"The factors."

You shrugged.

"Well, for starters, you're- you were, HYDRA's prisoner," the muscle around his jaw visibly clenches when you mentioned HYDRA, but you powered through, "so they'll definitely be interested in getting their fight dog back. They're good at blending in and good at getting their musty little fingers into every nook and cranny. I wouldn't put it past them to have one of their agents go undercover as a therapist for hire. So that's one factor: trying to discern who is and isn't HYDRA."

You raised a finger.

"Then there's the fact that because you're such a... shall we say, top priority, er, asset," that word runs bitter on your tongue, "even if your shrink isn't HYDRA, they'll definitely be targeted by HYDRA if it ever came to light that they have a direct link to you. So there's reason number two: loose ends, and the risks that come with it."

You raised another finger. By now, Barnes has a hard but contemplative curl to his lips.

"And then not to mention how unique your case it. Barnes, you've been a POW for decades. Your brain- no offense buddy, but from what I can tell, it's been fried to hell and back. I don't even have to do any fancy brain scans to know. And that's not even including all the other stuff they probably did to you, only God knows."

You shook your head.

"There's too much at risk for you to get proper therapy right now. But. It's not impossible."

You think back to Shuri, and how she and the other Wakandan scientists were successful in both removing the trigger words and rehabilitating Barnes.

Well, you're not sure about the last part, since you never interacted with the Barnes of your time, but you'd assume that they did help with his subsequent mental health. You wouldn't really put it past them- T'Challa was a nice guy, from your limited interactions with him way into the future, and Shuri was buzzing with ideas and energy. If T'Challa's sympathy for Barnes wasn't enough, then Shuri's crave to help and experiment would supplement the balance plenty. Vice versa, too.

So yeah, future-Barnes' mental health was most likely addressed during his time in Wakanda. And it was almost guaranteed to have been a success.

So you're still gonna hold a torch for the possibility that Barnes' can come out of this as a relatively well-adjusted guy.

Not to mention B.A.R.F. As far as you know, the R&D team assigned to that was still progressing smoothly, but the only downside to that was that it wasn't going to be until a few more years before it's "perfected".

You were never really involved in any way with B.A.R.F. since you were both prepping for SI and finishing college. Your dad was definitely more involved in it than you were, but it's not like you could ask him to pull a few year's worths of experimentation and knowledge out of his ass and exponentially boost the rate of B.A.R.F.'s progress, so.

Helen Cho suddenly sprang to mind, but you quickly threw away that thought. Your- well, Barnes'- issue was neurological, Cho was all about cell regeneration and is a geneticist. So unless somehow the issue crosses over with Cho's line of work, she wasn't a possibility either. There was also Strange, but as far as you've heard the man was pretty... abrasive, even as a wizard. Hard to get a hold of, and very... Hard-headed.

Well, all of that was second hand since it came from Tony, but still. Maybe you could pull Tony in for some clout, but that'll just make him suspicious. God, maybe you shouldn't have kept the whole "I'm actually from the future" spiel a secret, otherwise you wouldn't have to be doing all this crap alone.

Oh well. In for a penny, out for a pound.

You sighed, already feeling the dull thump against your skull starting to form.

"So what now?" Barnes asks. He's less tentative than he was last night, but still soft-spoken when he talks.

"Well, you're stuck with me, bud. I'll do my best to get you prepped for the actual rehabilitation, but honestly, that might take a little longer than you'd expect. So, we'll just- well."

You eyed the outfit he was donning, which was literally your clothes- so it was a few sizes too small for him. He doesn't really seem bothered by it, and if it weren't for the fact that he's sort of proved himself to be neglectful of voicing his own preferences, you'd be a little more inclined to appreciate the view of one very, very beefy super-soldier.

But alas.

Life never really works in your favor, so.

"We'll need to get a few essential things out of the way. Food is already on its way, I assume you aren't allergic to anything?"

He pauses, and there goes that familiar glaze forming over his eyes. You sigh, knowing that he was probably searching through his mental "data-bases" for any allergies, but thankfully it's not long as he blinks back into attention.

"None."

"Yeah, I could'a figured, what with your super-soldier serum."

(You're pretty sure that also makes him immune to cancer, but maybe that's just you glorifying it.)

"So: the food situation is cleared. Now, we need to get you some new clothes because, uh, those don't look very comfortable."

"Comfort does not matter. I am adequately dressed."

You snorted. Maybe it's better that you don't tell Barnes that he's wearing a Sharknado tee and some sweats that have "Eat this!" printed on his behind.

(And maybe it's better that you didn't remember that yes, these are indeed still your clothes.)

"Comfort does matter, my guy. DAHLIA, take some quick measurements."

The kitchen light dims and brightens, shining lime green into the kitchen. It lingers and turns back into that white-blue that sometimes makes your eyes burn when you've been up for too late into the night.

"Seargent Barnes' measurements are now on file. You two want to see the available catalog?"

Right where the kitchen island was, a panel opens up to reveal a hologram of a bunch of articles of clothing, all of which has been adjusted to Barnes' size- or an approximate at least, since there's some that's labeled X or XL.

"Barnes? You got anything you want to do right now or...?"

You gestured to the hologram in front of you.

His face contorts a little, not too noticeable at a quick glance. He doesn't look uncomfortable per se, but judging by the downwards curl of his lips, he's definitely not excited to see the hologram.

You flicked your wrist and it disappeared just as quick as it appeared. Strangely enough, his expression doesn't loosen up as his eyes flicker upwards to yours.

"Hey, that's okay. If it's the hologram, that's no biggie, we'll just move over to the, uh, TV in the next room over. C'mon."

You jerked your head and motioned him to follow you. His face laxes and he walks behind you without a word.

_______

You two ended up getting a lot done all things considered.

Barnes seemed pretty bothered by how many clothing choices there are, but when you asked if he wanted you to just curate a list for him, he easily relented. He was hovering over you the whole time, but you weren't too bothered by it as you were too busy browsing for him.

You went from site to site searching for clothes that screamed "The Winter Soldier", but all that was coming up was clothes in fifty shades of black and with no pizzaz. You did pass by a few Avengers-related merch (especially yours), but he said nothing when you added two or three into your cart, so he probably doesn't care. You did show him a lot of clothes that you thought would fit him, and he nodded to pretty much all of them.

By the time you were done looking for clothes, the doorbell had rung.

("That was quick," you reminisced. DAHLIA was quick to respond.

"It came from a nearby Walmart."

"Huh.")

Barnes' head jerked as his eyes were trained on the entrance door. You patted his arm, and his eyes glance at you.

"Relax, it's just the food. DAHLIA ordered some groceries earlier."

You stood up to go answer the door, and Barnes followed suit. You raised an eyebrow at him, but he doesn't really seem like he's gonna back down anytime soon.

"You know... You can follow behind, but you're gonna have to be in the shadows or something 'cuz, you know... Just- if someone's still at the door, don't let them see you okay?"

He nods, almost mechanically so, and you turned around and walked to the entrance door.

Opening the door, you were greeted with a few big boxes. You raised an eyebrow and glanced out through the door; there are no cars nearby, and DAHLIA whispers in your ear that the clearing's safe- not a single life signature anywhere.

"Barnes, the coast's clear," you called out, already reaching down to grab one of the boxes. You grunt, adjusting your grip before you lifted and turned around.

Barnes, having already popped out of whatever dark corner he was in, is already a few feet behind you.

"Hey, you don't mind helping me bring in those boxes, will you?"

You were already walking past him, but you barely caught the briefest flash of furrowed eyebrows before you saw him walk over to the door. You mentally shrugged, but placed the box in the kitchen and went back over to the door to get the other one.

By the time you were done setting down the box, Barnes had already closed the door and was standing under the arch connecting the kitchen to the main hallway.

You motioned him over, and he complied.

"What is inside?"

You're almost proud that you didn't jump. He doesn't talk much, but when he does it always startles you.

"Groceries, but I don't know what specifically. DAHLIA chose all of it. And by the looks of it, she chose a lot. So. You're gonna help me unpack and we'll probably- well, I'll probably make some food. You can help if you want."

Your back was turned to him, and you started unloading the boxes and their contents. Barnes doesn't move for a hot moment, but he squats down next to you and starts unwrapping the smaller boxes that were inside it.

"You don't mind if I put on some music, right?"

You glanced at him.

"I... don't. Mind," he mumbles, tentatively glancing back at you. You gave him a brief thumbs up and turned your attention back to

"DAHLIA, play something chill. Low volume."

_______

Pretty much, the whole day consisted of unpacking all of the groceries that had been delivered. You ended up pausing, having gotten tired of being awake without food in your stomach, and made some food for the two of you.

You tried conversing with him, trying to get him to at least feel more comfortable, and it... kinda worked. There are a few touchy subjects that he doesn't really seem to like talking about (he doesn't really vocalize his discomfort, but his flinches, no matter how minute they were, spoke louder than words). HYDRA, obviously. Anything revolving the Avengers put him off as well, among other things.

Really, most of the eating consisted of small talk and eating noises, but at least some of the tension in his shoulders had lessened by the time that you two needed to get back to unpacking. Hell, by the time that was done, Barnes' clothes had arrived.

(Oh, the benefits of being insanely rich. Say it with me kids: Thank you, Tony!)

You're usually a little apprehensive about buying clothes online, but color you surprised when not only did all of them fit; Barnes didn't have a single problem with any of them.

"You like 'em?"

You whistled when Barnes came out of his bathroom, now back in your clothes that you had given him originally. He tried all of them on, and you ended up buying him so many clothes that a lot of time had passed by the time he was done. You just sat on his bed, slowly collecting all of the clothes and ripping off the tags, damned if he didn't like one of them; you'll just take it instead.

"They're adequate," he nodded. In his hand were the folded clothes (A camo tee and dark sweatpants), and he set them onto his bed with the other folded clothes.

"Did any of 'em uncomfortable? Too tight, any of the fabric feels wrong...?"

You left the question open-ended as you helped him dump it into a laundry bin. He doesn't respond right away as if he didn't hear you. His eyes flicker over to yours.

"... No. They- I..." the muscle under his eye spasms, "I liked them..."

You grinned, "Glad to hear that, guess we got lucky that none of these was a dud, huh?"

The ghost of a smile that was on his lips appeared briefly, but it was gone just as fast as it had appeared.

Really, that had basically been the peak of the day before things had started to mellow out a little bit. But that was okay, you took whatever it was that Barnes gave, and if it was just the smallest smile you've ever seen on a man, then so be it.

Afterward, the day somehow managed to blend together and pass along like an exhale. Not much happened, since you couldn't really- well, offer anything that could scientifically and medically help him. So you opted to just- try to get him up to date as much as possible.

Honestly, by the time that you had gotten through the first three decades (starting when he was born), it was already pretty late into the night.

(He had a lot of questions, and you really didn't blame him. Hell, most of the more personal information really came from DAHLIA, because as much as you sympathized with the man, you really didn't care to learn about his whole entire biography.

But, at least you answered most of the history related questions. If you had to go through a few history college classes back when you were in college, then you'll be damned if you didn't at least make an effort to learn and internalize them.)

Barnes didn't really show any signs of exhaustion if the casual leg bouncing wasn't enough, but you sure were pooped.

(What? Unlike your dad (and most of the Avengers) you actually had a normal internal clock. For the most part, anyway.)

"Well, as much as I liked talking about prehistoric times," you sounded sarcastic, but you actually did like it, "I gotta sleep, I don't run on super-soldier energy like you do bub."

You stood up, stretched, and saw that Barnes was now standing up as well.

"Should I...?"

Raising an eyebrow, you huffed in good nature, "Go to sleep? Yeah, probably. We're not done with the History101 crash course, and we'll probably be talking about other things tomorrow as well," especially about the fact that you're not gonna be at the safe house often soon, "so we both need the energy for that. So, go clean up and get some Z's, yeah?"

"Oh."

He looked a little lost but followed you back into your shared hallway. Stopping in your doorway, you turned your head to glance at Barnes.

"Good night, Barnes," you nodded, not waiting for a response as you headed into your room. It was quiet and almost inaudible, but you still heard it with your ears before you had closed the door shut.

"... Good night."

You stood in your room, a sudden wave of both exhaustion and dread flooding your body. You shook it off though; it was just the nervous jitters hitting you at an inopportune time.

But really, you trusted your guts almost as much as you trusted Tony.

So as you brushed your teeth and did your business in the bathroom, you tried to quell the anxiety that was building up in your chest.

"DAHLIA, keep an eye on him."

"Gotcha, doll."

You sighed, dropped onto your bed, and hoped that whatever it was that might happen, you'd be prepared for it.

_______

And lo and behold, it didn't even have to be the next morning before shit all hit the fan when DAHLIA wakes you up in the middle of the night (3 A.M., to be specific).

"-oll, wake up! Barnes is having a panic attack!"

It takes half a second to process the fear in DAHLIA's voice. It takes another to process her words.

Fuck.

Scrambling immediately out the bed, you thanked whatever higher being there is that you were sleeping with at least some sweatpants on as you booked it straight to your door and right through Barnes'.

(Maybe you should have joined the football team, because that would have been one wicked tackle. Ha, yeah right, you know nothing about football.)

The lights were on, most likely DAHLIA's doing, and his bedsheets were clearly mussed up. He's nowhere to be seen, so your eyes jump to the joined bathroom door, and lo and behold, there was light bleeding through the cracks.

You quickly approached the door and opened it, throwing away the worry that he might have been absolutely naked.

The good news was that he wasn't nude.

The bad news was that he was hunched over on the ground, right in front of the bathroom counter, and he's gripping his head so tightly you would have thought his skull would have caved in.

Terror shoots down your spine like a lightning bolt, and you immediately rushed to the curled over Barnes, adrenaline rushing through you as a million thoughts ran through your head.

"Barnes!"

He doesn't appear to hear you, groaning and panting as he further curled in on himself. His muscles spasm, hard, and you're at a loss at what to do. He's sickly pale, and the sheen on his skin makes you want to vomit. His panting is shallow, and if you weren't sure if the glint that shone in your eyes was the reflection off of the marble floors or a puddle of saliva coming from Barnes.

You're not sure if touching him right now is a good thing, but you'll be damned if he wasn't your responsibility now. You reach out to him, wrapping one arm around his hunched back and the other trying to pry at his wrists.

(Would you have touched him, if you didn't have the reassurance that DAHLIA has your back?)

(Shut up.)

Maybe you were tensing up for him to go all "Winter Soldier" mode on you, but he's the one that tenses, even more, when you touched him. Thankfully, he doesn't resist your pull as his arm is limp the moment you tried to pull it back, but it doesn't change the fact that he's shaking, badly, and your mind is frozen in limbo.

"DAHLIA, what-"

You're at a loss for words, but DAHLIA, sweet DAHLIA already knows what you were about to ask.

"Sergeant Barnes was displaying elevated levels of anxiety, however, it did not seem to warrant any mentions. I thought-"

She cuts herself off, almost as if she was worried that she had made a wrong call. You swallowed, knowing that despite being a baby A.I., she's never done wrong by you- both in the future and now.

"You thought what?"

You try to rub Barnes' back as if he was a dog that had needed soothing. He groans, but you're not sure if you should interpret that as a hurt groan or a relieved one. You paused and moved your hand away, hovering it just inches away from his back, and his breath hitches.

Your hand dropped onto his back once again, and you could feel the muscles on his muscles spasm a little; his whimpers aren't as loud and painful (though, they're still more than worrying).

So, on the very small bright side, back rubs don't seem to be hurting him either. It's a small win, but a win for sure.

"You- my visuals were clear in the conclusion that you saw it. His discomfort. Your body language and expression acknowledged it but you refrained from addressing it. I- acted under the assumption that it was all under control..."

Something in your mind pauses for a pregnant second before your eyes widened.

"What?"

DAHLIA doesn't even get the chance to reply as Barnes jerks his hands away from yours and pulls at his scalp again. You lurched forward.

"Hey! No!"

You bit back a growl as you grabbed his wrists once again. You yank them back down to his sides as his body jolts, a sob ripping through him. You placed a hand on his chest and tried to boost him back up so he'll have his back against the bathtub that's behind him.

He offers little to no resistance as his back makes contact with the bathtub, but he's slumped into himself. He pulls his knees forward and curls his head into them. For a super-soldier, it's almost cute how hard he's trying to take up as little space as possible if it weren't for the fact that your heart was absolutely breaking at the sight of him.

"Oh, Barnes..."

In shuddered breaths, he mumbles something incoherent.

"...-an't, I- I- I-.... -can't..."

He shakes his head, jolting as if someone had shocked him. You rubbed his arm, glancing down at what you can now confirm to be a puddle of saliva, and then over to the trash can right next to the toilet. You're not too sure if you should get it just in case he decides to vomit, but you're ready to lunge for it the moment Barnes shows any signs of gagging.

"DAHLIA," you spoke at a lower volume, "what- when was he, um, uncomfortable."

"Two nights ago, roughly 22:00, when you told Sargeant Barnes that he was his own free man. Yesterday morning, 08:00, when you asked if he wanted to do anything prior to browsing the available clothing catalog. Right after, he was also discomforted by the catalog, before you offered to buy clothes for him. At-"

"That's- that's enough," you breathlessly muttered. DAHLIA doesn't say anything else, but the air has suddenly become heavier than you remembered.

Your head was almost dizzy with not only how many instances Barnes had been anxious in such a short time, but also at how you remembered each and every instance with startling clarity.

Barnes was anxious at the idea of freedom, but you put it off and opted to just give him a nickel tour of the house.

Barnes was anxious when you asked if he wanted to do anything before looking at clothes, but looked too relieved when you brushed over it.

Barnes was anxious at the idea of shopping for fucking clothes but was okay after you took over for him.

The taste of stomach acid burned your tongue, as yesterday's dinner threaten to rise at the implication of all of this.

"DAHLIA," you mumbled, "the- the rest of those instances- do they..."

You trained your eyes on Barnes.

"Do they all- follow the same... The same- pattern?"

DAHLIA was always in tune with you, even after the time jump.

"... Yes," she lamented.

"God..."

Now, you're not sure who that trash can would be really for; you or Barnes.

"Barnes..."

You murmured quietly. He flinches, and his shaking hasn't gotten any better.

"What- what was it? Was it- was it all too much? God, I'm so sorry, it probably was, wasn't it? I should have- fuck, I should have taken it more slowly, I-"

Barnes shakes his head, stopping you in your rambling. You blinked rapidly.

"Then- was it..." you paused, "... Was it the choices?"

It's almost expected that he doesn't answer you straight away, but he nodded anyway.

"I... It was- it was too much- I couldn't- I don't know- I-"

His breath shuddered with each word as if it hurt him to just even speak right now. You shushed him, ignoring the intrusive thought that it was akin to shushing an animal.

"Hey, hey, it's- it's okay. You'll be okay."

It's not much, what you're saying to him, and it's no surprise that they didn't do much anyway.

Honestly, you didn't know what to say at this point. There didn't even seem to be any phrasing in the known English language that would be able to comfort a man with as much baggage on his shoulders as Barnes, and briefly, just briefly, you wished that you were literally anywhere in the world, but here.

You tried thinking about anything that came from your (albeit limited) interactions with him between the past days that would help ground him, before something jolts you from deep within.

("What are my mission parameters," Barnes asked from behind you.

You paused.

"Mission parameters?")

You didn't even realize that you had said that out loud, but Barnes had tensed up even more before you could even take it back. He held his breath, audibly swallowing.

("You don't need mission parameters, Barnes. You're your own free man. You can- can make decisions on your own. You don't need me to tell you what you need to do.")

("I... Don't understand...")

You spoke on impulse.

"You... You need them, don't you? Mission parameters."

Immediately, you regretted even speaking up just as those words left your mouth.

While every fiber in your being hoped that it wasn't true, there was a small inkling in your head that already knew the answer to your question. It was the only thing that was barely even logical enough to make sense.

His apprehension of making a choice.

How uncomfortable in his own skin he always appeared, despite it even being just a few days.

How relieved he always looks, when the choice was already made for him.

His body tenses underneath your hand, but it's the slight bob of his head that makes your stomach drop. You thought- what a fool you were- you thought he'd be okay without being ordered around, but that was nothing but wishful thinking.

(What was the saying? It's hard to teach an old dog a new trick, was it?)

(Yeah.)

Looking at how only a few days of what you had originally thought was Barnes' newfound freedom turned out to be much more of a nightmare for Barnes, it might just be better for the both of you to push aside your comfortability and start making an honest-to-God investment into Barnes' recovery, even if that means that you had to take a step backward.

A very, very risky step backward.

It was a shot in the dark, but it was the only thing that you could place your bets on for now.

You just hoped that your aim wouldn't fail you now.

"Okay, well... How about this, Barnes, here's your main- your main mission, okay? Become a free man. Hey, no, look at me," you swiveled his head so he could look at you. His eyes were panicked, crazed, and irredeemably sad, but you had to make sure nothing crossed through your face so he'd know that everything will be okay. Your grip on both sides of his face was firm as you pleaded with him.

"Your only 'mission' right now? Breathe," ironically, his breath hitched, "If not for your own sake, then for mine."

You swallowed, heart stuttering as you looked into his glassy eyes.

"Please," you let your desperate prayer lingered in the air.

Maybe it was being given a task to accomplish after days of trying to figure out what to do with his supposed new "freedom", or it was how non-labor intensive and just... simple, his new mission parameter was, but it was almost instantaneous how all of the tension in his body dissipated into thin air.

Witnessing the moment of mercy upon grief through Barnes, no matter how brief or temporary it may be, was almost cathartic.

Almost.

(Perhaps you shouldn't be looking for absolution vicariously. But you were never really a good person, were you?)

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A/N: I've read a lot of WinterIron fics. While I have read a lot of interpretations about how Barnes would have reacted when he was freshly freed from HYDRA, this is how I choose to interpret it- one that would best fit the story for now. Next chapter, since I couldn't fit it in this chapter, is a special, but it is very much important and related to the story, and Barnes as a character. If you're familiar with some WinterIron tropes, this won't be too foreign of an idea. Not too sure about other ships/ stories, but. Ah, I'm rambling. Anyways, see you next year lol.

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Masterlist

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Tagged: @unsolvetheheckoutofit @tonystanktheirondad @ludwigvonbaethoven @rspctot7 (if you’re not @/ fabledxmystery, so sorry for the mistag! LMK if it’s not you) @tolkoskott @klanceiscannon14 @deos-life (grr it won’t let me tag you) @kp1183 (kperla1183) @xyuriko-akamine (akabaneyuriko) @kettnerjanea @soldier-42 @daybreakmistakes @spnfanboy777 @crash-zite @jm-cy

#male reader #avengers x reader #avengers x male reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x male reader #bucky barnes x reader #restart #reader insert

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concealeddarkness13 · 4 years ago

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WHG 15 Post-Games Imposter Syndrome Part 25

This is a couple of days after part 24. I haven’t really proofread these, so I hope there aren’t too many typos! Tagging the collaboration crew: @ratracechronicler, @maple-writes, @pen-of-roses (also thanks for Avery and Haven!), and @thoughts-of-nora!

That morning, I woke up when my phone buzzed. I frowned and looked at it. The number…it was Shine’s number. Shit. What was the Capitol doing now?

I opened it anyway, and I froze, staring at the message. Bring me that horizon. Fly out to the sea.

Tears filled my eyes, and I looked away from the phone. How did the Capitol know about the code? Or, could it possibly be someone from the crew? I sucked in a breath and texted back. Who the hell is using this phone and why?

I sat back, tears falling down my cheeks. I couldn’t sit in here. I couldn’t look at my phone. I stood up and walked to the door and looked out. Just in time to see Avery leaving the apartment, not even with any Peacekeeper escort. What were they having her do? And was there anything I could do to help?

So, I followed her out, sneaking very sneakily. She walked through the Capitol towards a nondescript building, but when she walked down an alley, and I followed her, she pulled a knife on me.

Eh. I hadn’t been trying to be super sneaky anyway. I grinned at her. “Hi! You’re amazing at this! How are you doing?”

She looked confused for a bit before she backed off and started tossing her knife. “We’ve been captured by the Capitol and you’re trailing me, so either you’re part of them and very bad at being a tail, or you’re overly curious for your own good. They already know I won’t make a break again, I didn’t before the Games.”

“Eh. I just want to see what’s going on. What else the Capitol is planning. Their old tricks for me are so boring. And maybe I could help a little?”

She snorted, but she just kicked back against the wall and started walking, but giving me enough room to walk with her. “Come on then, doubt they’ll really care if someone else is there, particularly someone with magic. Gods, they’ll probably be thrilled. Any chance you’re good at researching it? Or have learned anything useful about your boyfriend?”

Ugh. Did she have to bring Bystander up? “Not like I wanted him to be my boyfriend. Actually, he’s a horrible kisser.” I paused, distinctly thinking about how much of a lie that last one was. “But I’m pretty damn good at research, so I’ll see what I can do.”

She smiled, putting the dagger in her jacket pocket. “Really the pretty boy isn’t as great as he pretends to be, huh? Shame, but I doubt they’ll care much for one of their kissing skills. Unless you think he can be bested by undoing his ego?”

“I’ve already tried to hurt his pride enough. I don’t think anything bothers him. He’s told me that he has an unnaturally long life, and he can…hear better than normal? But I don’t know how much truth he was telling.”

“Sadly, the complete truth. Though vague enough to still be close to a lie.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. Mood. “You don’t seem to have fallen for his ‘charms’ though, thank gods for that or else I’m not sure I’d be able to stand you.”

I again distinctly didn’t think about how good he was at kissing. “Oh, he’s a piece of shit.” I shook my head. It was annoying to think about him. “But I can’t stand thinking about him the whole time. I’m curious about this group you’re going to.” Of course I had tried to look up some stuff on what was going on with the rest of the captured tributes. “I haven’t heard about them. What are their goals?”

“Do you want the party line that dragged me into it, or my best guess at the truth? The former is ‘keeping people safe from magical and divine threats against us so people can stay in charge of their own lives’. Hence my research and questions. Somehow I thought that meant they’d never be in bed with the Capitol of all people.”

Huh. Interesting. I nodded. “Especially because the Capitol employs magic threats. And would that mean I’m one too since I have magic? Which means their whole motto is untrue.” I sighed. This was so tiring. “I really love people who think they can save humans from magic.” The Shades said the same excuse.

She nodded as well. “Speaking of, what exactly is your magic like? They’ve been giving us just enough information to keep Haven sated, but I’ve always been a bit more hands on with research.”

It would be prudent to be a little cautious. I didn’t know what they would do if I just gave them everything. I eyed her. “Will they destroy me after I give away all my secrets? If so, I’d like to keep them, if that’s okay.”

“Fair enough, and worth a shot.” Avery took the dagger out of her pocket, rolled the sleeve up on her jacket, and pressed the dagger to her arm. It disappeared into a tattoo, and I blinked and stared. That was so cool! “I’d say it’d be hypocritical of them to do so, but…” She stiffened slightly as we approached the building, and a man was waiting for us. Haven?

“Avery, is there a reason why you’re late?” He was staring straight at me, so I smiled and waved.

“She wants to join us, maybe give a demonstration or two like we were promised.” Avery covered up her arm quickly.

“Indeed? Then it is time we get started, shall we?” He turned on his heel and walked into the building, not waiting for a response. Oh boy.

Avery hesitated and turned back to me. “Last chance to run.”

Oh, I’d mess with him a little instead. The way Avery was acting, it would be fun to mess with him. I smirked. “I’m not going anywhere. Hope that’s okay with you.”

“Just keep your head down, these people are how I ended up in the Games in the first place.” She led me to a small room that looked like an office, with papers and books lying around everywhere. Beautiful! There were so many books!

Before I could go look at the books, my eyes landed on Haven. He was reading one of the papers. Avery headed in. “Wonderful, you’re apparently worthy of an audience today.”

Fun! “I guess I’m just that interesting. So, do we start reading? What are we looking for?”

“Currently, we’re focusing on them and any accounts we can find, some of whom we’ve already met.” She gestured at the photographs on the wall, with people who looked suspiciously like Reine, Aleksis, and Conor in them. And some others I didn’t recognize. “As well as anyone else we—”

Haven decided to graciously interrupt. “Given our guest, it might be better to switch focuses for the day on them.”

Oh, I didn’t mind if they found out everything about the Shades. But I probably wouldn’t be much help. “The Shades?” I crossed my arms. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about them. Especially not any weaknesses.”

“Shame, but you do know something?” He nodded at Avery, and she brushed past me to sit down at her desk and grabbing a piece of paper and a writing utensil.

“I do. I’ve had to deal with Churi enough to know something about them.” But I wouldn’t just divulge information unless he specifically asked.

“What do you know of their origins?”

“They just showed up one day, claiming that our magic was evil, so they took it away and will only give the magic to people they control.”

“And yet there’s you, a sign their control isn’t as strong as they claim.” In the background, Avery was writing down notes and looking through books. Hopefully, I could do that soon.

I cocked my head as a smirk pulled at my lips. “Yeah, I’m a fucking miracle. Or a fucking mistake. Whichever you prefer.”

He frowned slightly. “Is your power any different from what they give to others.”

“Yes.” If he wanted a specific answer, he should have asked.

His frown changed into a scowl, and Avery had to stifle a snicker in the background. “How?”

I still wouldn’t be specific. “It’s diluted with human blood.”

“Interesting difference,” Avery said as she wrote down notes.

“Indeed. A demonstration then?”

I shrugged. It still wasn’t giving away all my secrets. “Why not? You’ve probably already seen videos of me using my magic anyway. I haven’t exactly been subtle about it.” I walked over to the glass of water just sitting on the table, and I activated my magic. The water in front of me flashed, and it was now a pretty crystal flower.

Avery watched the demonstration intently and reached out to touch it afterwards. Her fingers brushed it before she spoke. “May I?”

I nodded and handed it to her after I deactivated my magic. And then I turned to Haven. “Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

“For the moment. Captain, keep an eye on her for the moment.” He left after Avery nodded while she was still staring at the flower and writing down notes.

She examined the flower more closely. “What exactly is this? It’s no longer water or even the more expected ice. Almost…crystalline? And you can do this naturally with no training?”

I turned to Avery. I wouldn’t answer all of her questions. Just some. “Crystal. And it’s as hard as a diamond. I can cut through almost anything with a crystal knife.”

“Is this what people were supposedly able to do before they took it away? And this is what they give people? How does it hold up against a diamond then? And when you say almost anything?” She went and sat back at the desk.

I laughed. All these questions were so much fun! “I haven’t tried it on everything, so I didn’t want to make a claim I couldn’t back up. Not sure how it holds up against a diamond. So, could you answer a question of my own? What’s with the knife tattoo change thing? That’s awesome!”

“Oh that, not nearly as impressive, a bit of old magic.” She slipped off her jacket, revealing multiple tattoos on her arms. Two knives, one looked like fire, and a cool symbol. “I can call upon them when I need them, daggers are particularly useful, as is fire when you’re lacking light. But the uniforms for the arena were covering my arms.”

“The Capitol probably did that on purpose, the jerks.” I leaned over to see what she was reading, and I smiled. Amanda Ginser. I knew that name. “Oh. That’s probably accurate information. That’s the fake name of the person I went to to get my information. Look for books by her. She always knows everything.”

She smiled and pulled out a stack of books by the same author, and I grinned and started looking through them. After a little bit, I glanced up at Avery. Her magic was just so interesting. “So, can you summon anything from those tattoos?”

“Not anything.” She thought for a bit. “I have to know the name of it in this language I’ve been looking into, or well my friend was looking into, I’m nowhere near as good as him at it. But then I have to make the tattoo out of a real object. It’s a rather complex process and we have many failed attempts tattooed on us from it when we were figuring it out.”

I grinned. “That’s so awesome! What’s the weirdest thing you’ve been able to summon?”

“Fire.” She put her hand carefully on the tattoo until a real fire appeared in her palm! Awesome! “We had to perfect getting it so we wouldn’t be burned in the creation and being able to perfectly capture what the magical deemed an acceptable replica…”

“Yeah, that’s amazing! I wish I could do that!”

“Your own ability seems to be far more useful to be honest, and versatile.”

“Eh.” I shrugged. “I have to be really close to the liquid to actually crystallize it, unlike someone whose magic wasn’t diluted.”

She shrugged and put out the fire. “Still,” she didn’t finish the sentence, just went back to reading, so I did too.

After a while, Avery spoke up. “Would you be against one more demonstration? I can literally not tell anyone else about it without putting myself in more danger for what I want to do if that helps.” She sounded casual, but there was an edge of nervousness to her voice.

I grinned with a shrug. “Why not? I like testing my magic too.”

“Consider this a test for us both then.” She relaxed and pressed a hand to the cool symbol tattooed on her arm and concentrated before nodding at me.

I found another water source and activated my magic and crystallized it, this time into a small ship. I looked over at her. “Is that good?”

She blinked a few times, staring at the crystal, before she bit her lip. “Yeah, I…gods you’re so weird.” She stopped touching the symbol and slumped against the desk. “Not weird, just, not what I’m used to dealing with. I can’t get a read on you as easily as I can the others, maybe because you have a different source?”

I couldn’t help her there. I laughed. “I’m fine being weird. It’s more fun that way. Do you need me to do anything else?” Just to show off, I moved my hands and the ship molded into a small, crystal dog instead.

She sounded tired. “A viable way to get away from all this permanently would be nice. But I think I got what I was looking for, sadly I don’t think it’ll be much use to either of our predicaments.” She reached out to touch the crystal again.

A way to escape. My smile slipped from my lips. The message from Shine’s phone number. How trapped I really was. I sat down and started thumbing through some pages. “I’ll work on it.” I kept reading, and I came across a passage that mention hearsay about the Shades manipulating emotions. Huh. It had felt like Churi had done something like that before. “If you want to learn more about the Shades, I’ve been thinking about another ability I think they have that hasn’t been publicized yet.”

“It’s hardly on you alone—” She cut herself off when she looked up at me with wide eyes.

Glad I could help, at least a little. I took a deep breath. “This is just an educated guess, and I don’t know how they do it, but a few days ago, Churi visited me. When he wrapped his hand around my neck and breathed in, it was as if he took away all my emotions except fear. I couldn’t feel anything else, and it took a while for my other emotions to fully come back even after he broke contact. I think they can take away emotions and possibly just choose what to keep. I’m not sure why or how, but that’s what I felt. And this book mentions something in passing about a possibility that they can manipulate emotions. So, other people think the same way.”

“Well, that’s…useful? Can we, Abyss, what can we do with that? It’s…absolutely terrifying.” Her head fell in her hands, and she groaned. “What have we gotten ourselves into? Gods and magic and nightmares from under the bed, wasn’t this all supposed to be children’s stories?” She sounded like she was trying to sound teasing as she tilted her head to look at me.

This had been my whole life. I laughed ruefully. “If only. I wonder sometimes if it would have been nicer to not know anything about this. To just have a normal life without living in fear that the Shades would discover me.” I looked over at her. Better to not dwell on that. “How did you find out about this anyway?”

“I stole a book on magic as a child and broke into Haven’s home to learn more about a week later.” In the most deadpan tone.

Really? Wow! A thief! I loved it. I laughed. “That’s fantastic!”

Her smile grew. “Yes, but that’s a lie, I didn’t break into Haven’s home. I broke into the highly volatile magical area that was being investigated by him and his group and sat in the middle of it until they finally caught me.”

So dramatic! Looked like we’d get along. I smirked. “A woman after my own heart. I wish I could have seen his expression.”

With a fake serious expression, she ticked off on her fingers. “Surprise, anger—lot of that one—, confusion, worry, interest—the most dangerous of course—, and would believe me if I said fear?” Her shoulders were shaking from the effort of not laughing, and, damn it, it was infectious. “I think I watched the extent of all his emotions in under five minutes.”

“That’s awesome.” I leaned back in my chair. This was fun, but I’d love to get up to some mischief. “I wish I could do something like that right now.” And then I had the perfect idea. I eyed Avery. “Does Haven happen to have a hat I can steal?”

“Oh this sounds like a terrible idea. Lucky for you, those are the only ideas I listen to.” She winked and grabbed her jacket, and I grinned and followed her. She was amazing. She kept to the shadows, and there were times that I lost her, and I was right behind her.

No one saw us, and we made it to an office without any trouble. She picked the lock of the door after checking to make sure no one was there, and she opened the door for me with a wink. Hell, she was attractive when she did that. Mischief looked good on her.

It was a neat office, which meant it was boring. The desk was all organized, and the bookshelf mostly had pictures on it. And there was a coat and hat on a rack, but it was just a plain, old hat. RIP.

I sighed and walked up to the hat. “He’s got boring taste.” I snatched it anyway and put it on my head, turning to Avery with a grin. “But I’d say it still looks pretty good on me!” More serious tone. “You’re really good at the whole sneaking thing. Would you be willing to teach me sometime?”

She shifted uncomfortably and bit her lip. “If we ever get a chance yeah, after I’ve gotten out of my own mess. Sell your soul and all that.” She shrugged.

Was she still talking about getting out of the Capitol? I nodded. “Don’t worry. I’m working on it.” I winked. “So, it’s a date.”

She looked confused. Maybe I was wrong? “Working on undoing handing myself—wait what?” She sputtered, and I grinned a little more. She was cute when she was flustered.

I put a finger on Avery’s lips. “Shh. Don’t worry. We can figure out the details later.” With a wink.

“Uhm. Yeah, what?” She winced, swallowed hard, and took a deep breath. “We should, uhh, get back before,” She waved her hand toward the hallway, turning away from me.

I nodded and bowed. “After you.”

I stayed and researched with Avery until she went back. When I was back in my room, I looked at the reply from Shine’s number. This is Shine, and I’d like to meet you, if you can.

I fought tears and set the phone down. I couldn’t respond yet. Who were they trying to fool? Or maybe they weren’t and I had been lied to? They had started with the code, after all. I just didn’t know if I wanted to take the chance yet.

#writeblr hunger games #writeblr

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charlessmithhasmyheart · 4 years ago

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Title: Hunting Hijinks

Genre: Romance

Type: Charles x Reader

Triggers: None

A/N: Hey hey hey! This is a gift for the lovely @fangirl-ramblings. When I got the message that I was your secret santa, I was super excited! You are defs one of the people who I would consider to be my biggest supporter throughout this blog endeavor. Seriously! I would like to apologize for how long this took, but I wanted to make sure I was happy with everything before posting.

I know you had requested something about several people, so I chose Charles! Hope this is to your liking.

Here ya go! :)

____________________________

The sun was slowly sinking, the fire in front of you easily becoming your only source of light. The camp and it’s residents had been in the process of setting down for the night. Everyone but you. You were sitting on a log lost in thought, head resting in your hands as you stared into the flames; the object of your contemplation being none other than the mysterious Charles Smith.

Of course, this was of no surprise to you. It had been happening quite frequently. Charles was on your mind a lot. Especially since you had officially become a member of the Van Der Linde Gang.

A small smile began to tug at your lips as you recalled your first encounter with the illustrious group of outlaws.

You had been a bounty hunter then. Well, you hadn’t really been a true bounty hunter. You were just taking odd jobs from the wanted posters around Valentine and Saint Denis. It wasn’t the best work, but it paid well when you succeeded. And you did.

Believe it or not, you had actually met them during one of your jobs. You had been tracking a particularly elusive criminal for a few days. He had held up the general store and robbed a few of the townsfolk. Killed some too. The sheriff was adamant that he was brought back; alive or dead, it didn’t matter.

You were on the trail, the tracks very fresh when suddenly gunfire broke out ahead of you. Intrigued, you spurred your mount on only to come face to face with a shoot out. The target in question was crouched behind an over turned wagon, his own horse dead, as bullets from his attackers, three of them, soared through the air.

Determined to be the one to bring him to justice, you pulled your own gun from its holster and spurred your mount on again. Unfortunately the criminal, in what you can only assume to be a moment of stupidity, peaked from around the wagon, pistol loaded, only to receive a bullet to the face. With him now dead, the attacker’s switched their attention to you, guns still drawn. A curse slipped from your lips as you brought your horse to an abrupt stop.

“You take one step closer miss, and I cannot promise you’ll get away unharmed.” Warned their leader, who you later on learned to be Dutch.

When you made no move to speak he continued.

“Now I suggest you lower your weapon and we can talk this out. I see no reason for any more blood-shed.” He spoke, lowering his own weapon and signaling for the others in his group to do the same.

It took a moment, but you complied and re-holstered your weapon. Then came the conversation that would change your life. You had explained how you were a bounty hunter, making money to survive on your own after your family had died. Dutch responded in kind; giving you the run down of his gang, and, when he was finished, offered you a place to stay. After all, a woman of your abilities would be beneficial to their cause. Seeing as you had no better options, you accepted.

When you had arrived at their campsite at Horseshoe Overlook, you were introduced to many people who, despite being outlaws, were some of the most kind and hardworking people you had ever met. You fit right in, quickly developed relationships with many of the gang members, and the rest was history.

But despite all that, there was one member that you still hadn’t been able to understand.

When you had first been introduced to Charles, he barely mumbled a greeting or looked in your direction before heading of to complete some chore. You had brushed it off in the beginning, assuming you would find time to get to know him later. Now, it was later, and you knew next to nothing other than you had developed feelings for him.

It was all so odd. How could you develop feelings for someone who wouldn’t speak to you, let alone even look at you in the eyes? Sure, you had admired his silent nature, his penchant for taking on the difficult or unappealing jobs and his kindness with the other gang members from afar. Not to mention, he himself wasn’t unappealing to look at. But it still frustrated you to no end because you knew that he wouldn’t feel the same way. Charles had made it perfectly clear, without speaking, how he felt about you.

Stifling a groan, you rubbed a hand over your face, your frustration beginning to build to unhealthy levels.

“Something the matter [Y/N]? You’ve been sitting there an awfully long time.”

You jumped at the sound of someone’s voice and turned to see Hosea strolling towards you, a curious look on his face.

“I’m fine, Hosea.” You replied as he eased into a chair on the other side of the fire. “Just tired is all.”

“I may be old,” he started. “But not so that I can’t recognize when someone’s troubled. What’s bothering you my dear?”

You shifted your gaze from the fire to Hosea. He was leaning back in the chair, arms folded in his lap, with his eyes fixed on you. There was nothing but concern and a honest want to help you in them. He had always been like that. When you were struggling to learn the ways of the outlaw life, Hosea had been with you every step of the way. Making sure you knew the best hunting spots, helping you tend to your chores, and keeping your spirits up whenever you got discouraged. But, expressing your thoughts of Charles out loud? That was different. You didn’t know if you could.

“I don’t really know, if I’m bein’ honest.” You responded finally. “I’m just trying to sort out my feelings.”

And you were. Trying and failing, but you were trying. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t convince yourself to forget.

“Your feelings for Charles?” He stated matter-of-factly.

You snapped your head up, heat beginning to rise in your face as you tried to stammer out a response.

“How did you know— I mean. I never said—”

Hosea chuckled and splayed his hands out in a calming gesture.

“Like I said. I may be old, but I still know a thing or two. And the way you look at the man when you think no one is paying attention? I’d say you were smitten.” He teased, winking at you.

You stared, dumbfounded and unsure of what to say. If Hosea knew, surely others in the camp knew. And if they knew, did that mean Charles knew as well? And if Charles knew then... No. You weren’t even going to consider the thought.

“You know what? I think I’m gonna turn in for the night.” You stated, pushing yourself off the log and heading towards your tent, refusing to look at Hosea anymore lest you get sucked into a full blown confession.

“You know,” He called after you. “It’ll just get worse the longer you keep it to yourself.”

You gave a half-hearted flick of you hand, the only indication that you had heard his words as you continued to walk through the camp.

——————————

The next morning proved to be no better. The minute you had opened your eyes, your thoughts immediately went to Charles. And Hosea’s advice. When you had finally settled into bed last night, you had pondered what he had said. Maybe it would be in your best interest to talk to him, but the fear of his first words to you being full of hate was too much, and you had drifted off late into the night.

Groaning, you pushed yourself to your feet, ready to distract yourself with the days work. You grabbed your hat from where it had fallen on the floor during sleep and stepped out of your tent. The morning sun shone through the campsite and the warmth felt good on your face. A cup of coffee sounded like a good way to start your day so you headed towards the communal pot; Abigail and Pearson already there with cups in hand.

“Morning [Y/N].” Pearson called out. “Any specific plans for your day yet?”

“Other then my daily chores? No.” You responded, pouring the dark liquid into your tin mug. “Why?”

“Well,” he began. “We’re getting low on food supplies and I can’t remember the last time anyone went hunting. Think you’re up for the task?”

“Sure,” you replied between sips. “I’ll head out right now.”

Pearson grunted his thanks and returned to his own mug. It felt good to finally have some sense of normalcy thrust upon you, so you were more than happy to comply. Nodding your head at Abigail, you finished your coffee; the warmth of the liquid reaching and energizing every part of your body before heading towards the horses.

Hunting hadn’t always been a skill that you particularly excelled at, but when you had expressed your unease with the chore during your first weeks with the gang, Hosea had wasted no time with setting up lessons with Arthur. Originally he would have asked Charles to do it, but every time he had mysteriously disappeared, leaving you wondering what accursed thing you had done to receive the cold shoulder. And hunting with Arthur wasn’t so bad. Of course, he was a little moody at times and his patience wasn’t always there, but you learned. You considered yourself to be quite the hunter nowadays.

Having now reached your horse, you ran your fingers through her mane and cooed soft encouragements before swinging yourself into the saddle. Grabbing the reins, you clicked your tongue and eased her towards he camp entrance.

“[Y/N], hold up!”

You brought your horse to a halt, startled, and turned in the saddle. You were surprised and a bit worried as Hosea sped up towards you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Are you going out?” He inquired, an odd look that you couldn’t quite place etched on his face.

“Yes,” you replied hesitantly. “Pearson asked me to. Why?”

“Why don’t you take Charles with you, huh? He’s quite the hunter himself.” Without waiting for a reply he called out to Charles who was sharpening a knife. “Hey Charles! You up for some hunting? [Y/N], here could use some assistance.”

It was in that moment that your heart beat began to quicken; from anger and from nervousness at the thought of thee Charles Smith hunting with you. Alone. In the woods. With no one around for miles. Oh, would Hosea be getting an ear-full once you returned. Well, maybe you’d say if. The possibility of you running away forever from sheer embarrassment was entirely plausible.

“There now,” Hosea continued, clapping Charles on the shoulder with his hand. “I’m sure the two of you can scrounge up some food for the lot of us. And don’t come back until you do.”

You shot Hosea a burning look as he sauntered away, whistling a tune the whole while. Charles barely glanced at you as he pulled himself onto his own mount, Taima, and encouraged her towards the edge of camp. You followed suite without a word.

————————

You gripped the bow tightly in your hands, trying to rack your brain for anything to say as Charles walked beside you. The silence between the two of you was uncomfortable. At least, that’s how you felt about it, and, frankly, you couldn’t deal with the fact that the man you had pined for months over was finally capable of staying close to you. Deciding you’ve had enough, you lowered your weapon and turned to face him.

“Why do you hate me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why do you hate me?” You repeated, crossing your arms.

Charles’ eyes widened as he took in your words, and a strange look crossed his face. You started to feel guilty as you waited for a response. You had come across as a bit rude. It wasn’t what you were going for, but the words just came out without any thought. But, now that you were in this predicament, you decided you were going to keep going.

“I don’t hate you,” Charles finally spoke.

“Well, then have I done something to upset you? I’ve been with the gang for months now and you’ve said all of six words to me.”

Another long moment of silence ensued. Finally deciding you’ve had enough, you tightened the grip on your bow and turned to leave, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Before you could reach your horse, however, you felt a hand grasp your arm and you found yourself twisted around and a pair of lips locking with yours’. You tensed for barely a second as your mind tried to register what was happening. You were kissing Charles. Or, rather, he was kissing you. And it felt like you had always imagined it to be. When he broke away, you stared, dumbfounded.

“I don’t hate you, [Y/N],” He said, reaching out to take your hand his large calloused one. “I never have. In fact, it’s the opposite.”

“Charles,” You uttered, barely a whisper.

“Ever since the first day you stepped into camp, I knew there was something special about you. I was just too afraid to say anything.” Charles confessed. “I didn’t know how to say anything, because I didn’t know how you would feel.”

His dark eyes locked with yours and you could see the sincerity and fear swirling around in them. A small smile tugged at your lips. There was only one way you felt you could express your true feelings. You reached a hand up to cup his cheek and pulled him into another kiss.

Time seemed to stop. Your heart beat just as quick as you pressed your lips against his in a gentle fashion. His strong fingers brushed tentatively against the back of your neck while your own hand tangled amongst his dark locks. You placed your other hand against his chest and grasped at the loose fabric of his shirt, feeling a hunger your had never felt welling up inside you. Charles, sensing this, slipped a hand down to the small of your back and pulled you flush to him.

The kiss lasted for what felt like years before you finally pulled away, both of you breathing hard and a shine in his eyes that you no doubt mirrored.

“Do you know how I feel now?” You teased.

“Yes, I think so.” Charles chuckled, entwining his fingers with your own. You smiled warmly at him.

“Maybe we should get back to hunting then?” You inquired. “There’s a certain someone I need to have a chat with when we get back. And then, maybe we can have a chat of our own, hmm?”

Charles suppressed another laugh, placed a kiss on your cheek before resuming the hold on his own bow, and traipsed deeper into the woods. The memory of that kiss would reside in your mind as you finished the hunt and it would carry on until later in the evening when you and Charles had another moment alone.

#charles smith #rdr #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #imaginexreader #imagine #writing #reader insert

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linklethehistorian · 4 years ago

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New Working Link to DarkestJay’s English Translation of Fifteen & Commentary on the Discrepancies Therein (PLEASE READ)

Information below the cut for length, as well as spoiler information relating to my article.

If recently you’ve tried to access DarkestJay8686’s English Translation of Fifteen on WattPad through the link I provided at the beginning of my article, you’ve probably already noticed that that link is, unfortunately, very dead; the reason that this has happened is because, sadly, as of late, they — and other translators in the fandom who also post their works to WattPad — have been facing a struggle with their works constantly being flagged on the site and forcibly removed for copyright reasons multiple times over, forcing them to eventually give up and move their content somewhere else where it would be safe from harm.

Upon learning of their arrival on a new, safer platform, I had considered simply exchanging the old link out for the new one at the beginning of my article, where it was before, and altering my notes to reflect this, and I’m sure that I still will as soon as I can find the time to rework everything properly, but in the meanwhile, there’s something I’ve also badly needed to discuss with you all about these translations for some time, and what better time and way, I thought, than to do it in this post where I provide you with the new link?

I’m sure that many of you reading both my article and their translation have noticed that back in the Arcade scene, there was something I had mentioned happening in the novel that didn’t quite match up with DarkestJay’s presentation of those events — namely, Sheep being the first to leave the building, instead of Dazai and Chuuya; well, that difference is actually quite important as one of the main reasons why, while their work may overall be excellent and I do encourage everyone to read it regardless, I still personally would never recommend making it the only thing you read if you want to truly understand Fifteen and all of its events 100% correctly.

Yes, I am saying exactly what you think I’m saying: my information within my article was NOT incorrect — Jay’s translation of the scene, however, was, and if you don’t believe me, you can go read Lea’s translation of the scene and see it for yourself.

Now, before I say anything else, I want to make this 100% clear: I in no way am intending to imply that Jay’s work on the whole is anything but exceptional, nor am I even remotely saying that you shouldn’t read at all; in fact, I highly recommend you do read it in its entirety, because despite a few small mis-steps, as someone who owns two copies of the original Japanese light novel, has read many an English translation, and knows this story extensively well, I will be the first to very enthusiastically say that this translation is actually quite good and very, very helpful overall — an absolutely essential resource for anyone who does not speak the original language but still wants to read, experience and understand Fifteen as if they could. I am extremely, extremely grateful and appreciative of their hard work in making that possible for all English speakers, and I don’t ever want to come across as anything else or make it seem like any of that is any less than true.

That being said, though, it nevertheless absolutely cannot and should not be your only resource on the matter, because if it is, you will unavoidably end up being misled on some matters — unintentionally, of course, but still misled all the same.

Because this was translated well after the anime came out — unlike Lea’s partial but nonetheless equally wonderful translation, which came into existence very shortly after the novel was first handed out in theaters alongside DEAD APPLE, a whole year before the animated adaption was even a concept — DarkestJay’s translation does have some points where it is extremely clear that said television show’s rather poorly handled and highly inaccurate interpretation very heavily affected the OP’s perception of things, and thus caused the OP, Jay, to incorrectly interpret and translate certain parts of some scenes and/or dialogue that otherwise might not have been super clear to someone not fully, extensively familiar with the language.

Specifically, as I mentioned above, there is the one particular instance among the many that I can easily point out: due to the pre-knowledge of the anime’s awful take on the story, there is a point in this translation where Jay simply assumes it to be true that Dazai and Chuuya were the ones to leave the Arcade, with Sheep calling out to their retreating backs, and thus incorrectly translates it as such, when in fact it unfolds in exactly the opposite manner in the original version of the tale; likewise, there are also many bits of dialogue throughout the entirety of the book where the perceived “understanding” of the characters’ nature’s as the show wrongly presented them caused Jay to take the liberty of wording things in certain different ways, or make certain alterations to the type of punctuation used that Jay believed suited them, rather than leaving them in their unaltered states, as they were intended to be read.

This is the major issue with going into a project like this with this kind of confirmation bias; no matter how good your intentions may be, because you expect that you already understand something or know what’s going to happen, you’re much more likely to think it’s safe to cut corners, and rather than carefully researching the context, tone, and other specifics and particulars of every line before you write it out and post it — the way you would if you started with a completely blank slate and no idea of what would happen in it — you will more often than not just assume that it plays out in the way you expect it to if it seems close enough, and quickly go with that presumption as if it is fact without bothering to make 100% sure of it.

Again, no offense to OP, because translation work is very hard, and as I said, overall, it is a wonderful translation and I do think it’s well worth the read, but problems like this are why I personally recommend anyone reading this to also check out Lea’s translated summary with excerpts and translation of the bonus chapter in conjunction with Jay’s, as Lea’s came out long before a Fifteen anime was even a concept and, as such, was completely unbiased — therefore being an excellent source to check facts against where possible.

Of course, there are definitely also some points where both translations are different but neither is actually wrong — as while Lea’s is less literal about every phrasing so it’s not super awkward sounding in English and flows better to read, Jay’s is almost always more literal instead, and thus differences in personal preference for wording can easily diverge while still getting the point across fine in both — but these instances are much different from the ones where it is clear Jay actually slipped up, so I’m sure you won’t have trouble defining them. As much as I would like to be of help in this regard, I must sadly inform you that I will not personally be pointing out all of these slip-ups here at this time, nor do I have any plan to do so at any time in the foreseeable future. for I have neither the time nor the desire to go about critiquing a fellow fan’s work when I’m already dedicating enough time and energy just to writing about the mountain of mistakes that the anime made without also adding more difficult and unnecessary extra work onto that.

If you have any questions about a particular line in the translation and if it indeed is correct, you can absolutely feel free to send me an ask about it and I will try to help you with it to the best of my ability, but beyond that, I will not be engaging with the matter much farther than I already have.

(However, on one last note, I will, for now, add that — as I expect this might become a point of much contention and is something that will come up in my article later on, anyway — the “it must be because I love you” scene that you will find in Jay’s translation is actually not exactly one such instance where a mistake was made, at least in regards to the “‘I love you” bit; if you’re curious about the exact details of how that all works, you can read about it in my post here. So yes, that does indeed exist, and you are free to take it in whatever way you want. I’m not personally an SKK shipper myself, but if that’s your thing, then good for you — go for it and enjoy it; it can be canon support for your ship if you want it to be.)

Thank you for reading, and, as promised, here is the link to Jay’s new account, as well as their Twitter, and where you can currently access their translation of Fifteen. Enjoy.

[See the recent related addendum]

[View the masterlist of my article]

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