#not moving until i get to wilson/amber/house stuff

[elena-ferrante]

w o w my awful day got even more awful after this scene thanks

[house-md-obsession]

Shake [James Wilson x Reader] Part Four

Her eyes shifted from the brunette with an amber tint in her hair as she glanced back down to her hot cup of coffee in hand. Despite having slept a lifetime for many people, she still felt the pangs of exhaustion on her overworked body tugging at her joints as well as her lack of ability to focus on one thing at a time as she gradually recovered. She found herself longing for the comfort of James' bed, as odd as it was. Not him, but the wonderfully luxurious bed in which she now sees a necessity.

'Who knows if I'll sleep that well again without that damn bed.'

"_____?"

Her eyes flit up to the previously mentioned Thirteen. She flashed her the familiar lost-in-thought smile in which her face is normally decorated.

"I'm exhausted, I am so fucking sorry." She stated, a soft laugh elicited from the two. Despite having slept as much as she has, she still felt tiredness tug at her eyes.

"I can tell. Wilson said you were wiped but I didn't expect you to still be a walking corpse." She said, and ___ sighed, tightening her messy bun that lay upon her head. Her soft baby hairs sat wildly as they wanted, too short to go up with the rest of her hair.

"Yeah, I'm honestly not doing the best. I think House was actually right in forcing me to take the week off. I can hardly focus on anything."

"There's this really weird thing that happens, when you don't sleep like you're supposed to—"

"Shhh... I'm feeling the consequences of my actions. Trust me. I'm a million times more miserable than I look, and I know I'm roughing it right now." She stated, feeling her joints ache as she reached for her cup of coffee. Every movement felt as though there was sand in between her joints. “I’ve also got a lot on my mind that I am trying to navigate. I just haven’t had an opportunity between such big cases. I know it is literally our job, but we haven’t had an easy case in months. I miss the times I was able to just go screw with Wilson while he wrote up emails.”

"So... how do things seem?" Remy asks, seemingly pushing for a conversation she didn't quite want to bring up. Not directly, at least. ____ cocked her head, setting her cup down once again.

"How does what seem?" ____ asked.

"Things." Remy said, again, indirectly pressing. Still confused, ____ was about to ask for clarification, before her eyes caught those of the softly parted brunette male, making his way towards the two from the coffee counter, two cups in hand.

____ smiled, and moved over in her booth to make room for her friend as his eyes met hers with a warm, shy smile making its way upon the flirts' face.

"You look much better than last night." He commented, setting the cups down in front of them. Remy gave him a quiet 'hey' as he got situated.

"Hey, James. You meeting someone?" ____ asked, moving over a little more so he could get comfortable. He moved over a little more, mere inches between the two.

"Thirteen let me know where you guys were going so I swung by and gave you a house key." He said, and dug into his pocket for a minute, before dishing out his keys. He plucked a freshly made, bright silver one from his key ring, and handed it to you.

Thirteen's eyes widened, and to seemingly keep her mouth shut, she took a sip of her coffee.

"Thank you..? I don't...?" ____ stammered, wondering why this was necessary besides so she can grab her stuff later, but she assumed she'd just go back to her place until later.

"I know your apartment is on the rough side of town, and I have a conference I leave for at the end of the month for a week, and I just wanted to extend... the offer of somewhere... safer to you. Plus I'll probably be working late, so you can grab your stuff at least." He said, 'cooly' as he could. Thirteen shot James a confused look. She arched an eyebrow and leaned forward a little.

"Are you asking her to house-sit or are you inviting her to move in?" James' face went red and he let out a nervous laugh.

"I'm just letting her know she is always welcome over if she needs to! When House and I went by her apartment to grab some stuff the other night it was... shady." He said, trying his hardest not to offend the girl next to him, avoiding eye contact.

“I am happy to house-sit. We can talk about that later, I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow at the latest.” ___ said, and James was happy to take any out of this conversation, even if his out is ‘house sitting’.

"Who is the other coffee for? House?" Thirteen asked.

"No, no. That ass can buy his own coffee after the emotional torment I was subject to last night." He said, a sigh leaving his face as he paranoidly glanced around the room, as if to judge whether or not it was clear to say what was on his mind in the moment. Remy cocked an eyebrow, obviously intrigued by the vague statement.

"What 'torment' did you have to endure?” She said, gently tossing her long, chestnut hair behind her shoulders.

“It is a crime and extremely offensive for me to be friends with a female that is not the exact same age as me.” He said, feeling a heat make its way to his face with the mere mention of the conversation. He almost felt like he was ripping the innocence from his mature, younger friend by even thinking about her following the visuals House had nearly injected into his head.

Several hours were spent on and off “teasing” Wilson for his intentions with the young colleague the two shared. House consistently swore she was only around for being an excellent doctor and a total idiot with the passion for her job to leave her relentlessly exhausted at all times, seeing as she needs to be virtually held at gunpoint to sleep.

“You’re keeping her around and only doing this as a fastpass into her panties. I’ve seen her ass, I don’t blame you, but at least be honest and stop making yourself look like you’re sacrificing things so she feels more compelled to lie with you.” He remembers House uttering. Wilson just threw him another hateful glance, and resumed his attention back to his phone.

‘Maybe I seriously like her around. Is that such a forgein concept to you? I have a plethora of female friends that I have never tried sleeping with. You can’t seem to make friends with any woman without making it clear the relationship is one-way.’ Wilson thought to himself, just before standing up to check on you. That was the last comment House got in last night before finally dropping the topic.

At least, until midnight struck another day.

“Says House?” ____ asked, cocking her head.

“Implied House. He also implied a lot of other things that have me ignoring his existence today.” He said, taking another heavy sigh as he took a sip of the warm coffee in hand. He felt the urge to glance at ____ as she was part of the discussion, but ignored it.

‘I don’t want her knowing House thinks of her that way. Besides, I have more than one very close female friend, so it's not like she would gather that from this conversation. Right?’ He thought to himself, before finding his inner monolog more confusing than beneficial.

He would, in moments following, find that this did not work as planned.

He sat up readjusting his position next to the tired woman next to him. She slowly nodded, finally understanding what the conversation likely included. She fought off a soft giggle, watching her brunette friend fight a soft blush that was finding its way up on the flirts’ cheek.

“Why are you so pressed? Sounds like textbook House to me. Angry and horny.” Remy muttered, once more taking a sip of her coffee. James stuttered over himself.

James, in fact, was not entirely upset because of the misogyny that he had to endure by sitting idly by his now hammered best friend. He, too, was drunk, while you slept heavily in the other room. Occasional, soft snores could be heard in the living room.

“So, you’re not gonna even try?” The diagnostician said, setting his now-empty scotch glass back onto the coffee table.

“House. She is not interested, and young.” James muttered for what felt like the millionth time.

“‘Young’ is an awful excuse to not pursue the babe in your bed. You really can tell me more about her than any of your ex-wives but you refuse to even try going on a date with her.” The drunk spat out, some truth to his searing words that James refused to accept.

“Maybe I want a serious, platonic relationship like this with someone other than you, House. Whether or not I like her doesn’t matter, I’m not pursuing anything.”

“Now that you’ve made it very clear you’re not going to sleep with her, when I do, I’ll be sure to take pictures.”

“Yes, that is textbook House. Doesn’t mean I should have to deal with him reducing my friends to nice bodies.” He said, glancing to his left and unintentionally making eye-contact with the hopefully-unaware person that brought upon the subject matter.

Both Remy and ____’s eyebrows arched, shooting the oncologist a curious glance as he continued to clam up.

“Who is House jealous that you have around?!” The pair spat out at once, almost as if they had rehearsed the moment a million times. He was mildly taken aback, wondering why this conversation didn’t run through his head as a potential outcome to the topic posed.

For obvious reasons, he was not sure he was ready to sell out his best friend to the innocent, or so he assumed, younger woman next to him that he was not sure would like to hear of the ways her boss objectified her while she was unconscious in the other room.

James felt the familiar heat he tried to overcome over the last few minutes on several occasions burn as it finally won– the tall, flushed brunette finding himself stumbling over words in his head, unknowingly stuttering a response out to the two.

“Cameron.” He spat, little thought following the exclamation. She was the first, non-___ girl that he has even remotely considered a ‘close’ friend over the two facing him.

He locked eyes with ____, and she looked puzzled. He knows, even while absolutely exhausted, she was not buying the lie the man spoke. He knew she was calculated, and knew this was not something she would drop until she knew who he was really referring to. He could feel the urge to call him out to his face– a characteristic he both loved and hated about her– but watched as she readjusted in her seat.

Strangely enough, she nodded, flashed him a smug grin, and shrugged.

“Sounds about right. He always did want to sleep with her.” ___ said softly, taking another sip of the now less-scalding, bitter coffee. James watched in shock as she seemingly continued about listening, not a word leaving her lips. Her baggy eyes now trained on the opening and closing of the slightly busy coffee shop.

“Cameron? You still keep in touch with her?” Remy asked, setting her now almost empty cup to the table. James pulled his confused face from the apparently disinterested girl next to him.

“Well, yes, but very sparingly.” He said, shifting as he felt Remy nearly see right through him. Her face quickly became that of disbelief, but she knew better than to press the man for more answers than he was ready to give. She cleared her throat, it becoming increasingly obvious that she did not believe a word he was saying.

“Okay. Okay. Not Cameron. But who it is doesn’t really matter. They’re a close friend and that is that, I don’t know why House seems to think I only ever want to sleep with the people I have around me. Maybe they’re just good company.” He explained, and relaxed, not realizing the short lived lie had already begun to take a toll on his physicality. The bigger lie he didn’t need to address was that he’d almost definitely, on more than one occasion, found himself wondering what this ‘unspoken’ person would be like as a romantic partner, but that’s just curiosity, right? Is it a crime to imagine what a friend would be like as a partner?

He glanced back at ____, who was still seemingly anywhere emotionally than the coffee shop.

“It’s House, Wilson. You know better than anyone else his cynical ass only brings young women around for one reason.” She said, letting a sigh leave her lips, as she sat back against the rest of her chair. “You’re telling me he’s never harassed you for anyone else?” She pushed.

“Yes, of course he has, but he is particularly insistent with this person in specific.”

“Maybe it is his weird ‘House’ way of getting you two together. He is very good at reading people.” Remy said. She took the final sip of her coffee, gently setting the empty cup down onto the table. She glanced over at her friend, noticing her blank stare towards the floor. ‘Maybe she should get going.’

‘“I-I mean, maybe. But regardless it isn’t any of his business. And I don’t even know if I could be in a romantic relationship with this person. I’m not sure it has even crossed my mind prior to this conversation.” He said, rubbing his thumb against one another underneath the table. He felt unusually nervous speaking those words right next to the unspoken woman in question. He caught another glimpse of the unusually quiet ____ next to him. She had her eyes trained on the door again. He gently tapped her thigh under the table, and she whipped her head around to look at him. She came to, seemingly previously stuck in another universe before flashing him a soft smile.

“‘M sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night. Sorry, I am listening!” She muttered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, flashing a sleepy, almost distracted smile to the oncologist. He felt his anxiety manifest as butterflies in his stomach. He was unsure if it was because of the smile or the subject matter.

He flashed a warm smile in response, feeling his anxiety climb higher with the innocent action.

“Hey, ____, I’m sorry to drag you out. You don’t look well. Let me take you home.” Remy interrupted, and ____ shook her head.

“No, no, it’s okay! I’ve missed you guys. We haven’t hung out like this in months. I’ll go home and go to bed later. Do either of you have somewhere to be?”

“I’ve got work in about an hour. But, Remy is right. You should go rest.” James said, finding his hand rubbing her shoulder. She flashed him a warm smile, and shook her head. “I can take you home if you need, too, or you can grab your house key from my car.” He said, glancing at Remy to watch as she nodded her head in response.

“I have a lot on my mind right now. This is more helpful than you know.” She said.

“So… Who is the extra coffee for?” Remy asked, and James, without a word, hands it to Remy seeing as ____ has not even nearly finished hers.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Northern Exposure | Something in the Air

❄ Part 1 of the mini-series ❄

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); violence, creepiness on part of our boys, predatory behaviour, Bucky’s an asshole, they’re all too lonely and too desperate, mistaken identity.

This is dark! fic and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, A Bad Time x Reader

Series Synopsis: You’re a nature photographer stationed up north but the arctic isolation comes to an unexpected and unpleasant end.

Note: I started this ages ago and finally got the energy to finish, it’s four parts and provided my life doesn’t continue to fuck around I should have em all up in the next days. Also as always, cracking away at all the other fics I’ve hooked you into.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The days were short and the nights long. So far north, time seemed not to exist as you chased the fleeting sun with your lens. Your existence was only demarcated by the fortnightly delivery of supplies left at your door as you were often out pursuing an elusive snow fox or wakeful owl. The world seemed small up here and you felt like the only person left alive.

Perched up on a branch precariously, you teetered as you focused your camera at its end. It was the perfect composition, snow blurred in the background as you focus on the scratching along the bark, the remnants of some owl or smaller critter. An abstract in your series, certainly, but interesting nonetheless. Besides, your editor would be happy enough with the close up you’d captured of a reindeer, its antlers the focal point of the shot.

Content, you climbed down, barely keeping yourself from slipping entirely down the trunk to a crash landing. Back on the ground, your boots sank into the snow, halfway up your calf, and you capped the lens of your camera. You tucked it under your parka and glanced around at the sparse grey trees.

Your eyes flew up as you heard a snap in branches not far from those you stood beneath. You held your breath and listened. It might be another opportunity. The early flight of an owl. You followed the sound, your steps muffled by the snowy carpet below. But that natural silence of the arctic returned and you ended up searching for air. Not a noise.

You sighed and turned back to look at the horizon. It was growing dark and you were best to return to your little cabin before long. It would be a moonless night and without the silver guardian above, it would make a nocturnal trek even harder. As you took a step, it seemed to echo and you stopped again. Your ears perked up and you shifted your hat to hear a bit better. 

There was nothing. You frowned and turned. Only the snow and the trees against the greying sky. You shrugged off your unusual paranoia and carried on. You took the treacherous path back to your remote habitat. It was just you and your cameras; you and the north. An assignment you’d loathed at first but come to cherish. Isolation had a keen way of introducing one’s self to them.

You stepped up onto the small porch, the aluminum roofing and the tarnished and dented siding made it seem like little more than a lost shed. There was a single room inside, a small bed with a woven blanket, a wooden counter with an old basin and a stove top run on gas. The out house was further back, hard to find in a storm, but as long as you counted your steps, you rarely got lost.

You pushed through and turned the wooden latch that held the door shut. You untied your boots on the salt-stained rubber mat and left them there as you hung your damp, cold parka and shed your thick snow pants. You took off your hat and gloves and left them on the small shelf beneath the hook.

You took out a can of chili and dumped it in the small scratched pan. You lit the burner and sat on the single chair built of logs as you waited for it to warm. The wind swept up outside the shuttered windows and you shivered. You went to the small woodstove and twisted the iron handle of the door. You carefully built a fire as the smell of your dinner filled the cabin.

You left the door of the stove open to heat up the place and turned off the burner. You moved the pot onto the counter and took a bowl from the cupboard. A distant clatter sounded from outside. You frowned and kept yourself from grabbing the pot. You sighed as the noise repeated.

Several times before the wind had torn open the outhouse door and slammed it back and forth throughout the night. One time, it had been a curious bear. You hoped for the former as you shoved your feet into your boots and haphazardly pulled on your jacket. In and out. You’d secure the door and be back for your dinner before it got cold.

Outside, the sky had almost darkened entirely. You clicked on the flashlight you kept by the door and shut it behind you. You stomped down into the snow and squinted at the circle of light as you rounded the edge of the house. You neared the outhouse and sighed as you found it locked up tight. It couldn’t have been your imagination; you’d heard something.

You huffed and turned back. You swept the flashlight back and forth as you searched for a creature sneaking around or whatever item the wind had tried to carry away. There was nothing. You followed your footprints back to the house and climbed up the steps. 

The door was open and you noticed the much larger puddled footprint on the porch too late. The fire had been snuffed and the single lantern was dead. Your wrist was grabbed as you tried to angle the flashlight around the room and you were drawn inside and pinned against the door. 

A cold barrel pressed to your chin and your eyes widened. Your arm was twisted up until the flashlight blinded you and lit the unfamiliar face before you. You blinked and shook your head helplessly.

“Quite the hiding spot,” The deep voice added to the icy nip of the air.

“What--”

“Don’t try to act dumb. It might’ve worked with Wilson but not me.” He snarled and you released the flashlight as you tried to wriggle free. “Stop!”

The light fell to the floor and bounced as he wrenched your arm up and pushed the gun harder under your chin.

“I have orders to take you alive… if I can,” he sneered, “doesn’t mean I will.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you grunted as he had you on tip toes against the wall, the flash light rolled on the floor and sent shadows around the room, “I’m not… I’m not whoever you think I am.”

“Save it, Ursa,” he hissed and pulled you away from the wall, gun still taut to your skin, “0r should I say Astur.”

“No, no, it’s not me,” you pleaded, confused as he turned you away from him and angled you towards the bed, the muzzle now pressed to the back of your head. “I’m just a photographer. You’ll see. Look through my stuff. It’s just cameras and photos. It’s--”

“Shut up,” he pushed on the back of your knees with his, “on your stomach.”

You got down, barely able to see and unwilling to resist with a bullet waiting behind you. He pushed you into the mattress until you were still. He pulled back the gun and planted his knee on your back as he held you down. He holstered his firearm then pulled your arm back behind you and then the other. He used a zip tie to secure your hands there before he did the same to your ankles.

He carefully stepped back and you turned your head to watch his shadow. He didn’t bother with the flashlight as he closed the door. Then he turned and kicked the light so it cracked and the bulb died. He sat in the chair, it groaned dangerously under him.

You could see little of him as all light was gone but for the sudden glow of a screen before him. You only saw the glint of his blue eyes before he put it against his cheek. You turned onto your side and he growled.

“Don’t even think of moving,” he warned. “Hey,” he spoke into the speaker. “I just sent the coordinates. Target secured.” He listened, “by morning?”

He pulled the phone away and dimmed the screen. You could only hear the wind as he sat there and you sensed his unwavering gaze in the dark. With your jacket undone and your boots untied, you felt the draft that blew through the cabin walls. You shivered and he let out a thick breath. A snarl almost.

“I really don’t know what’s going on,” you said.

“Shut up,” he snapped.

“I mean it. You have to look. Look around, you’ll see,” you pleaded.

He snorted and didn’t move. You rolled your eyes helplessly and another chill ran through you.

“Please--”

“I already looked. When you were out climbing trees,” he intoned. “I saw the photos. Very thorough reconnaissance.”

“What? Pictures of birds and snowflakes?” You uttered. 

“You’re good. That whole innocent ploy is convincing,” you heard his boot drag over the wooden floor, “almost.”

You deflated, your wrists chafed and your teeth chattered.

“You gonna wait all night… for whoever that was?”

“I’m tired of telling you to shut up.”

“You leave me like this, I’ll freeze to death. You too.”

“I won’t,” he said, “you might.”

“You said you had orders.”

“Circumstantial,” he countered.

You exhaled deeply and bent your legs as you tried to curl into yourself. He tutted and stood, the floor creaked. The stove door whined and you heard the iron poker against the kindling. He mumbled as he relit the fire and stirred it until the biggest log caught. He rose and set aside the poker and resumed his seat. 

The fire’s amber haze limned his figure in the dark. His broad shoulders were wider than the back of the chair, his long hair poked out from beneath a wool cap, and his hand formed a tight fist on the arm. He leaned his head back and sniffed.

“There,” he said sharply, “nice and cozy.”

You wiggled on the bed, trying to get comfortable. You pulled on your wrists and ankles and only caused your hands and feet to throb. You grunted and relented, resigning yourself to lay listless atop the thin mattress.

“You’re wasting your time--”

“I’m about to shove your sock in your mouth so I suggest you shut the fuck up,” he barked.

You gulped and closed your eyes in surrender. Well, maybe his friends would realise his mistake. Or maybe they’d just add to your predicament.

❄

You didn’t really sleep, you languished. The man didn’t either. You could tell. He just watched. Frighteningly patient as the night critters made a ruckus outside. He barely even moved as you fidgeted, your shoulders sore and your legs cramping. 

Then there was a sudden change that even you felt. A heavy pair of boots climbed up onto the porch and the handle jiggled, the door stopped by the wooden latch. The man rose and crossed to the door. You heard the subtle brush of fabric and metal as he pulled out his gun. He pulled open the door slowly, at the ready, the slightly lesser dark seeping in.

“Sooner than I thought,” the man greeted his comrade. Your heart froze as another set of footfalls followed. A third man entered behind the second.

“Jesus, why are you sitting here in the dark?” The third man asked, “there a light or something?”

“She’s on the bed.” The first man grumbled. “Only a rifle hidden under there. I already disarmed it.”

The sudden electric glow of the lantern bloomed to life. Your eyes slowly adjusted as you stared at the three men. There were all big, all broad-shouldered, all stood like soldiers as they communed around the only chair. The third, the one who’d clicked the lantern on, neared you.

“She’s putting on a front, but--” the first man began and the third one raised his hand to silence him as he knelt by the bed.

He had a kind face, his brown eyes were warm, and the finely trimmed goatee lent him a sense of lightheartedness. His expression however was hard and turned to confusion then disappointment as he held the lantern close and grabbed your chin, turning your head back and forth.

“Not her,” he released you and stood, “fucking Christ, Bucky. It’s not fucking her.”

The second man snorted, “really?”

“It’s gotta be--” the first insisted, “the gun--”

“For hunting,” you said dully, “not that I do much of that. I use it to scare away the wolves.”

“Shut up.” He snarled and crossed his arms as he turned his back to you, “you’re sure?”

“I wouldn’t forget the woman who nearly slit my throat. Twice.” The other said, “and really? A single rifle? You think that’s all she’d have?”

“She has photos too. The bunker, due north. She’s got dozens.” The first insisted.

“Bunker?” You whispered.

“I’m not going to tell you to shut it again,” the man turned as he raised a hand and the blond, the one who hadn’t said much at all, caught his wrist.

“Hey,” the other man warned, “she’s innocent. She probably has no idea what she was taking pictures of.”

“Yeah, but now she knows our faces. No doubt recognizes you, pretty boy,”tThe third offered, “and idiot here assaulted her and tied her up.”

“All the way up here? Who’s she gonna tell?” The blonde returned.

“She has a radio,” The first, Bucky offered. “It’d be enough to give us away.”

“They’d believe her? If she’s been up here long, they might not.” The blonde glanced over the others shoulder, “you apologize and we can--”

“You really wanna leave another loose end?” Bucky challenged as he blocked his gaze. 

“You should’ve confirmed before you jumped,” the third huffed.

“If we’re not gonna leave her, what do we do?” The blonde asked.

They all went silent. They looked at each other and then you. Bucky raised his gun, still in hand, and the blond caught him again. He shook his head and tisked.

“Are you crazy?” He pushed his hand down, “We’re not killing her. She didn’t do anything.”

“I agree, she shouldn't die because you’re stupid,” the other chuckled.

“Well, Einstein,” Bucky snipped, “what do you suggest?”

The third man’s brows raised slowly and he tilted his head. He glanced at you again then back to his comrades. He shrugged and a grin spread across his face.

“The bunker. It’s empty. Safe.” He said quietly, “How much of a fight did she put up?”

“Enough of one,” Bucky muttered.

“She’s… not bad. She’s all alone up here. Even if someone noticed she went radio silent, it’d have to take a while,” he explained.

“What are you saying?” The blonde frowned.

“If she has the photos, if she knows where the bunker is and this moron’s blurted out some intel, I just know it,” he continued, “we can’t let her go. He’s at least right about that. So… we don’t wanna kill her, we keep her.”

“Keep her? For what?” Bucky scoffed.

The man was silent and winked at them. The blonde peeked over at you and Bucky dropped his head as he gripped his hip. 

“Come on, you guys,” he threw up his hand as the blonde shifted on his feet. “It’s fucking cold up here and it’s been awful lonely everywhere else. We’re running around with no finish line in sight and… well, I’m about to stab one of you and I’ve seen the way you,” he pointed at Bucky, “look at me. I don’t trust that.”

“You can’t mean--” the blonde muttered.

“She’s better off dead,” Bucky insisted.

“Just because you’re a monk, doesn’t mean the rest of us need to be.”

“Hmm,” the blonde tapped his toe.

“You’re not really considering this?” Bucky sneered.

“Well… why not?” He rasped, “She’s… alone and… not too bad on the eyes.”

“And I have ears!” You sat up awkwardly, “You want me to keep my mouth shut. Done. I’m up here trying to catch a few birds on a roll. I’m not here to get mixed up in whatever it is you three--” You blinked as the lantern shone in the blond’s face as the three men turned to you, “shit.”

Captain America’s eyes sparked with recognition as your head did the same. He knew you knew who he was; likely he saw that look every other day. There was no hiding it.

“I told you,” the third man chided, “that mug is hard to forget.”

“No, no, I don’t-- I won’t tell a soul. I swear. Please just whatever you’re thinking, don’t. I’m some dumb photographer they sent up here to document the snow. You really think anyone cares that much--”

“Not so much about you but those photos are pretty interesting,” Bucky neared and shoved you down and you barely kept from hitting your head on the wall, “don’t tell me you didn’t know what you were doing.”

“People go missing up here all the time. That’s why no one’s here,” the brown-eyed man said, “she’ll just be another and we’ll have a nice companion to keep us from killing each other.”

“No,” Bucky turned, “it’s my mistake. I’ll take care of it.”

“Put the gun away, Buck,” Steve Rogers ordered, “it’s not right. We can’t kill her. Even if she isn’t entirely innocent, even if you’re right about those photos. She’s better to us alive.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going along with this--”

“I’m the captain,” Steve insisted. “I’ve made up my mind and I’m giving you an order. Sam’s right. She’s more use alive. If she has information, we’ll get it out of her. And if she doesn’t well, we can find something else to do with her.”

Bucky swore and pushed his gun into his holster. He stepped away from you and shouldered past the one called Sam.

“Yes, captain,” he said dryly. 

“Sergeant,” Steve retorted and nodded to Sam, “get her up. We should leave before the sun rises.”

[welcometophu]

Into the Split: Reinforcements 3

Twinned Book 3: Into the Split

Reinforcements 3

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Nikolai wakes up when he hears voices in the hall. Dax, he thinks, and Nate, with Dax laughing and Nate shushing him as they go. The voices recede and there are no more doors or steps after they’re gone. The bed is still warm, and Seth is asleep, so Nikolai rolls over and tugs Seth closer so he can drift in that space of almost sleep.

He’s not sure how much time passes before there’s a knock on the door, but the room is brighter, more sun spilling around the window shade.

“Drea says breakfast is in the big hall downstairs,” Mac calls out. “You can come down with us in a few, or you can come down later on your own.”

Seth rolls over, buries his face in the pillow.

Nikolai isn’t positive he remembers exactly how to get there from here, but that doesn’t matter. “We’ll be down later,” he says.

“Gotcha.” Mac’s steps recede, and there are more voices in the hall as she goes.

Seth rolls onto his back, reaches up to frame Nikolai’s face with his hands, drawing him down. “Much later,” Seth mutters.

It sounds like a great plan to Nikolai, and he wastes little time in putting it to action.

The delay in getting out of bed means that by the time they have towels wrapped around their waists and go looking for the shower down the hall, no one else is around to interrupt them. There is a long row of shower heads on one side of the room, and a selection of soaps and scrubbers to use. The huge bath is heated on the other side, the size of half a swimming pool, with a sign hanging that says “please cleanse before you bathe” hanging on the wall above it.

As tempting as it might be to shower together, it’s easier to shower separately and wash quickly. By the time they are finally done, dried, and dressed, Nikolai’s certain that at least an hour has passed since the rest of their group went downstairs.

They make their way carefully, taking direction from teens who wait at two of the intersections, pointing their fingers while still staring at their phones. Nikolai can’t imagine sitting around waiting for people to get lost is at all exciting. But as they pass by, he notices one of them peeking up as they go, and looking away quickly once caught.

Maybe it is interesting after all, getting to see all the newcomers, particularly if they aren’t used to seeing anything but Clan.

The room at the center of the house is full of people, even more than the night before. Either more came in overnight, or there were new arrivals early in the morning. The seated tables are mostly full, and there are more people at the buffets around the edge. Motion catches Nikolai’s eye, and he spots Corbin waving and pointing at a small cluster of tables where most of the people from PHU seem to be. When Nikolai nods, Corbin then gestures toward the laden tables against the wall.

Drea leans in to say something to Corbin and she lightly smacks the back of his head, but Corbin flies up as a crow, staying close to the ceiling before he drops down and abruptly in human form when he lands in front of Nikolai and Seth.

“I’ve been sent to make sure you eat,” he says.

Nikolai’s pretty sure that’s not exactly what Drea said, but he won’t correct him. “Thanks. Is there space for us?”

“Alaric and Chris said something about heading upstairs.” Corbin makes a face somewhere between a smirk and a wince. “Drea and I were thinking about heading out to the apple grove to see how the trees are doing. It’s been warm, so they’re probably getting close to blooming.”

“There’s an apple grove?”

Corbin nods at Seth. “We have about a dozen different varieties. Plus peaches, plums, and pears. We have strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, raspberries, and black caps. There’s farmland for vegetables and other kinds of fruit, not to mention the livestock. We’re fully sustainable when it comes to food.”

“Maples, too, I assume.” Nikolai thinks he spotted some of them while they were walking the night before.

“Sugaring season just passed, and I was so glad not to be here for it thanks to school.” Corbin exaggeratedly wipes a hand across his forehead. “Sugaring is hard work, and I’m glad to leave it to everyone else for a few years.” As they reach the table, Corbin points to a silvered pot sitting over a warmer. “But if you want to taste it, that’s the good stuff. The jams and preserves are better, though.”

They load up their plates, moving slowly through the line. Nikolai spots Pawel ahead, talking to a man who reminds him of Thorne, and a woman who has strikingly striped red and black hair.

“…Finding them was a godsend,” the woman says. “They’ve taken in five kids already. And Pawel, I know you have Conor, and it might be harder to officially place anyone with you, but if you ever think you might be able to—”

The man puts a hand over hers as she reaches for Pawel. “Luce. Slow down and give him a chance to think. Don’t worry, Pawel, she understands that not every Talented adult out there is a great candidate to foster Talented kids who need homes. She just gets enthusiastic.”

“And you don’t, Rowan?”

“I don’t mind,” Pawel says, with a small, tired smile. “Lucy, I appreciate what you are trying to say, and what you need, but unfortunately I already find myself acting as a parent to young adults who are barely younger than myself. In fact, I have two living with me right now.” He gestures, and Nikolai hesitates until Pawel gestures again, motioning for them to approach.

“I’m just going to let you two field this on your own,” Corbin whispers. “Those are two of Rory’s parents, just in case Pawel forgets to mention.” He disappears in a flutter of wings and a breeze.

Right, they met the night before, when Rory brought them over. Nikolai barely remembers it.

The empty space is a small void between them and Pawel, until Nikolai and Seth step forward, plates in hand, to close the distance.

Lucy smiles, shifting to face them with her hand extended. “Hi. I’m Lucy Wilson, and this is Rowan Baker, one of my partners.”

Rowan grins, and he’s eerily like Thorne, aside from more smile lines around the eyes, and possibly a shade shorter. “It’s good to meet you. World travelers aren’t the usual kind of Talent we get to meet.”

“Just an Empath and a Dreamwalker,” Seth replies, nudging his glasses up his nose after he shakes hands. “The world walking wasn’t exactly up to us. And with any luck, we’ll be leaving soon enough, Pawel. We won’t be in your guest room forever.”

“We run a program to help rescue Talented children who have either already dropped into the foster system, or who are living endangered lives in their homes,” Lucy explains. “We’d love to have Pawel involved, even in the outreach to help Emergent children who have parents who may not be as familiar with what being Talented involves. There’s so often a sense of fear, and children try to hide—” She stops abruptly when Rowan reaches up to put a hand over her mouth.

“Lucy rescued our Daniel and I don’t think she’s stopped rescuing people since,” Rowan almost whispers, his mouth twisted into a fond smile. “She forgets that sometimes she needs to stop being an advocate and just be a Mage who happens to sniff out Talents in an alarmingly accurate way.”

Lucy wiggles out from under his hand. “I also fly. On a broom. Like a witch.” She grins then, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Just because it’s fun.”

Her enthusiasm is infectious, although Nikolai gets the feeling that Pawel’s too exhausted to really respond. “We live in a community at home that is a haven for all Talents, because our world isn’t friendly to them at all,” Nikolai tells her. “Someone like you would love it. You should talk to Pawel about that; he was with us for a while. It’s actually built in the same place as this Clan community is here.”

“For all Talents?”

“A cooperative community for Emergent and Lineage Talents, from Clan to Mage and beyond,” Pawel agrees. His expression relaxes and he gestures for Lucy and Rowan to move. “Why don’t we sit down and I can tell you about it. I know your experience growing up in Burlington might be familiar, Rowan, I know there is another group in New Hampshire that has combined communities as well; they are part of the new alliance that Alaric has been forging. I think this might need to be more common on our world. It is absolutely vital to survival in Nikolai and Seth’s world.”

Nikolai breathes more easily as they drift towards one of the tables. He nudges Seth, and they move on, finishing filling their plates before they look to see if there’s space with their friends so they can sit and eat.

When Nikolai takes a step, there’s a woman in front of him. She looks vaguely familiar, and Nikolai suspects they met last night as well, during the glut of arrivals throughout the evening. Her gaze is narrowed, amber eyes focused intently on Nikolai first, then Seth as she shifts her gaze. She doesn’t have a tray or plate, her hands clasped behind her back as if she’s keeping herself from reaching out. When Nikolai meets her gaze, she carefully moves, reaching up to tuck wavy strands of her tawny hair behind one ear as her head cocks, neck protected when her chin lowers slightly.

“Dayton!” someone calls out.

“I’m not going to eat them,” she replies loudly, her gaze never wavering. “I just want to meet them.” Her voice lowers as she leans in, nostrils flaring. “So. You two are the catalysts. Do we blame you, or give you acclaim? Likely both. I think more good than bad will come of this; it’s what we wanted, after all. Cooperation.”

Nikolai has been hunted by humans and Shadows alike, and this sense of being prey is entirely different. He remembers her now—the girl that Stormy had leapt onto. She hadn’t seemed so predatory last night.

Seth pushes forward, putting himself between Nikolai and Dayton. “I don’t think we’re at fault for anything. Your side of things started the process that led to us being here. We’re just along for the ride.”

Nikolai consciously relaxes, wrapping one arm around Seth’s shoulders, and kissing the side of his head. “And we will help as much as we can. But I don’t think we’re any kind of catalyst, unless you want to blame the Dreams that Nikita and I shared. Even then, I think I’d blame your Emergence after everything we’ve heard about your world.”

“You didn’t have an Emergence?” Dayton’s expression softens just enough to unpin them; Seth relaxes in Nikolai’s arms, leaning back against him. “What happened in your world?”

“Shadows,” Seth says bluntly. “We were outed by Shadows destroying everything they could. And we’d really like to keep that from continuing to happen before our world falls into darkness, thanks.”

Dayton’s smile is swift and sharp. “And so would we. You’ll be good allies. Alaric’s community is becoming wide and varied, and that can only be good. We need diversity and Talents of all kinds. The world is changing.” She turns and stalks away, her movements long and lithe like an animal.

Definitely a predator. Definitely Clan.

Nikolai steps back slowly, still balancing his plate in his other hand. “Let’s eat.”

They grab the nearest table with people they know, just to get there without further interruption. Del kicks out a free chair for Nikolai, and Heather gets up to offer hers to Seth then shares with Nikita since there don’t seem to be many free chairs left. They squeeze in around the table as Del introduces Sam and Shawn.

Nikolai tries to eat quickly. He has a feeling this small peace won’t last long.

“How long before you have to go back into the Dreamscape?” Shawn asks.

Nikolai lowers his gaze, chewing on a piece of bacon. Not even five minutes.

Seth leans close, shoulder to shoulder. “Do you ever miss being on our own?” he murmurs.

Nikolai nods and offers him a strawberry. At least the company comes with plenty of good food.

“Me?” Del taps her chest, “or us?” Her gestures encompasses Nikolai and Nikita. “The answer’s different depending on which one you’re asking about.”

Sam raises both eyebrows as he looks at her; even Nikolai senses the silent judgment.

“You,” Shawn says curtly. “You’ve spent too much time there. It feels like it’s getting harder and hard for you to come back.”

Nikolai remembers Del in the meadow, or Del on the paths, looking like she’d easily skip into the Dreams and lose herself there. “We won’t let her go,” he says.

“Of course we won’t!” Nikita agrees quickly. “Del, you have anchors.”

“I have two of them.” She pats Shawn’s hand where it lies clenched on the table, but she doesn’t meet his eyes. “And soon; I need to go in before we start meeting officially this morning. Tonight again after that. I need to keep going back and see who’s responded to the call in that space as opposed to online. We’re not going to be able to talk to Dreamwalkers from other worlds on our own internet. And my abilities work differently enough that I can have that beacon and bring people to my meadow, so yes, I have to keep going back in.”

“You’ve been going in alone.” Normally Nikolai wouldn’t think this is a bad idea, but he’s seen Del, and he has a feeling that repeated trips into the Dreamscape aren’t helping her at all. “How have you been—”

“I’m fine,” Del brushes it off with a wave of her hand. Shawn inches closer to her, his hand across the back of her chair. Del leans in, elbows on the table and fingers intertwined, her chin on her hands. “You don’t have to worry about me, Nikolai. I’m not going to go skipping off into the distance.”

“I disbelieve,” Nikita counters. Her weak smile attempts to soften the worry that suffuses the rest of her expression. “Pretty sure we’ve seen you do that.”

“It’s a little easier with these two holding me back. We’re learning, even if they aren’t Empaths. We’ve got our own way of doing things. We could probably use some advice from someone with experience,” Del admits, her attention shifting to Seth. “I don’t know if you can extrapolate from the Empathic point of view, but anything you can suggest to help us out would be good.”

“I’d be interested in the Empath way of looking at things,” Heather says firmly. “I know that the next time you go in, it’s going to be potentially more difficult. Every time we’re getting closer to finding this solution, and every time it takes more power, and more ability to keep the Dreamscape out of reality. Especially as we interact more with other Dreamwalkers.”

“We’re fine,” Nikita says, gesturing between herself and Del. “Not even a flurry outside.”

Nikolai’s not sure if he should be relieved or insulted not to be included in the collection of Dreamwalkers.

“We should still pick Seth’s brain,” Heather says.

“That makes it sound like you’re planning on eating my mind,” Seth mumbles around his food.

“You don’t need me for this, do you?” Nikolai has something else he wants to look into. Curiosity has gotten the best of him, and he’s not entirely satisfied with his conversation with Valentine the night before. He can’t stop thinking about what the Shadows mean when they say bedrock, and if Valentine is as well, he thinks it might be important to fully understand how that works.

He pushes back from the table, pausing when Seth catches his hand, drags him back down for a kiss. “I’m not going far,” Nikolai assures him. “I just want to talk to Valentine. There really isn’t much I can add to conversations about how you anchor me in reality. I just know you do.”

Seth’s gaze drifts to where Valentine sits, somehow alone at a table. “And I always will,” he says, letting go of Nikolai’s hand. “I’ll stick around and be here when you’re done.”

Nikolai grabs a chair on his way to Valentine’s table. It looks as if all the others have been stolen away, which is probably how she manages to have her own quiet space. Her plate is empty, and she holds a mug of something steaming that rests on the table as she looks across the room.

Nikolai follows her gaze to spot Alaric still sitting at the table with Corbin and Drea. Miranda is perched on his lap. She speaks excitedly, and Alaric moves every time she gestures, almost hitting him in the nose. He pays close attention, nodding at her words, and she seems entirely enthralled by the conversation.

He slides his chair into place on the same table as Valentine, so he can look out over the room in the same direction. She’s got her back mostly to the wall with a good view of everything but one part of the buffet. In this corner everything smells like coffee from the drink table behind them, but the view is worth it. “Hey,” he says as he sits. “He really is good with kids. I saw it in Havenhill, too.”

Nikolai wonders if he imagines the way Valentine flinches when he says Havenhill.

“Miranda adores him.” Valentine’s arms are crossed, her toes pressed against the floor as she rocks back on the rear two legs of her chair. “I think Elijah hasn’t decided yet. He seems torn between looking up to him, since he’s older, and resenting the fact that his little sister seems to like him better. I… should have made more of an effort to meet him before now. He’s been out to Burlington twice. David told me that he’s a good kid.” She hesitates, laughs slightly. “Young man. You all are in that awkward age of being adults, but you still seem like kids.”

“I’ve been on my own for a few years, since I thought my entire family other than Seth died,” Nikolai points out. “We grew up quick.”

“I suppose you would,” Valentine says quietly. She licks her lips, tension rolling through her. “Before you got to Havenhill.” She gestures. “Alaric told me a little about it. Pawel told me more.”

Nikolai wants to ask the question again, but he doesn’t want to offend her. He glances at her, mirroring the way she leans back in the chair, his own chair creaking as he rocks back.

She glances at him, her smile wry. She pulls one hand free, lifts it up, fingers spread. She slowly curls her fingers into a fist, then tucks her hand back in to cross her arms again. “What?”

“Did you lie about knowing Alia?” he asks quietly. He doesn’t know who might be listening and if she lied, she probably doesn’t want to talk in public.

“I thought that might be what you wanted to know.” Her gaze rests on Alaric, a small half smile as Miranda finally catches him in the nose with one hand, and as she goes to apologize, manages to kick Elija. “They can’t really hear us. Sound is my natural ability. I’m good at being either really loud, or very inconspicuous. It’s handy as a parent.”

“I don’t know what Val’s innate ability was.” Nikolai watches Alaric and Miranda as well, wondering if it makes it easier for Valentine not to have to look him in the eye. “So, then.”

“I lied.” Valentine lets her chair fall with a soft thump. “We knew each other at PHU. There was a fairly large community of Talent even then. We knew it was safe. The few people who weren’t Talented didn’t make a fuss if they found out about us, and they didn’t seem afraid of us. It was one of those things that was an open secret, and not everyone was in on it. But we found each other, and Clan hated Mages. That’s just the way things were, so we never really got along, even though we were on the same floor of the same dorm for two years in a row.”

“How much did Pawel tell you about Havenhill?” Nikolai figures that he’d be more forthcoming than Alaric, who seemed to still be reeling over the woman who wasn’t exactly his mother.

Valentine huffs. “He started with the fact that Havenhill is led by a married pair—Mage and Clan—myself and Alia. And I guess I could see how that could happen. It’s not like she isn’t gorgeous. Strong. Driven. Loyal. She’s the kind of woman who wants what’s best for her people. So am I, which is why I’m here. It’s not just because Miranda wanted to see Alaric again.”

For a moment, Nikolai thinks she means that she’s here for Alia. But no, she means she’s here for the war, such as it is, against the Shadows. “You’re here because you’re ready to join forces with the Clan.”

Valentine nods. “I’m here because we need to move past old prejudices. And they were never held in much regard in our community, but it was hard to look past someone who hated me so much when we were younger. There we were, in the same place, and when I extended an olive branch, she rejected it.”

“So you rejected her,” Nikolai says, and Valentine nods silently.

He can imagine how one thing could make a difference. One tiny change of a overture accepted. A friendship instead of enmity.

“So we’ll try again,” Valentine says quietly. “I’m sure she remembers me as well. We haven’t talked about it, and I’m sure we won’t. Agreeing to ignore it and move forward for the best of our communities. I’ve already made plans to work with the group from New Hampshire.” She gestures at another table, where a pregnant woman speaks excitedly with a group that includes Dayton. “They’ve already had tragedy strike down two Clan communities and one Mage community, and they’re rebuilding together. They could use the support.”

“The Shadows refer to Alia as bedrock,” Nikolai says slowly. He feels Valentine’s attention shift to him, so he finally looks at her full on, giving her the weight of his regard. “She’s in all worlds. Or most worlds. She’s exactly who she is, with minor differences, like marrying someone entirely different, or having a different family. Unlike people like me and Nikita, who are similar people across the worlds, but not the same.”

“You want to know if I’m bedrock as well?” Valentine scrubs a hand across her face. “I wouldn’t know.”

“You fit the description. Val has a son—Ethan. He’s a little older than your Elijah. She’s also the foster mother for her niece Marybelle,” Nikolai says. “She’s close to Alia, of course. And I have to think that having anchors on both sides of the Split is a good thing. That whatever ritual we’re going to be doing—or rather, that you’re going to be doing while we Dreamwalkers are in the Dreamscape—would benefit by having bedrock in place on both sides. So it’s something you might want to think about when you’re planning rituals with Pawel. I’m sure he’s thought of it already; the similarities are too strong not to. But he might just plan around it without actually mentioning it. And if you’re involved, you should know. In case it impacts how you handle the ritual. He’s Emergent, and he’s a good person, but he’s also exhausted and running ragged and sometimes I wonder if he’s already out of every bit of energy and just really good at faking being okay.”

Valentine’s chair scrapes as she pushes it back. When Nikolai starts to stand, she holds out a hand. “You’re fine,” she says. “I just think I need to go extend an olive branch. If you’re right, we need to build a foundation on this side. This won’t work if the bedrock is cracked.”

She heads out of the room, and Nikolai watches her go. He hopes that Alia doesn’t reject her overture outright this time. It was Alia and Alaric who called this Gather, after all. They opened their community too all Talents, and in Nikolai’s eyes, that’s the beginning of what created Havenhill. It’s the closest thing to home he’s found so far, and he hopes that nudging it closer still is a good thing.

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Namjoon Oneshot: Study Buddy

RM/Kim Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Description: You have two problems. Algebra and Namjoon. 

Y/N’s P.O.V

It’s another day at school and I already feel like my brain is going to explode. Sitting in Algebra 2 I wonder why imaginary numbers are even a thing. I mean come on they’re imaginary! None of this makes sense! As I try to understand the lesson I noticed the brown haired boy that sits at the very front corner with his head down. He doesn’t talk much in this class. Now that I think about it he doesn’t do much in any class I have with him except music. He’s always so focused in that class but still very to himself. I wonder if he-

“Miss Y/N?” My teacher Mr. Wilson said my name. As my eyes left the brown haired boy I noticed the whole class looking at me as Mr. Wilson frowned at me. I gulped nervously.

“Yes, Mr. Wilson?” I asked. He sighed shaking his head back and forth.

“See me after class Y/N.” Mr. Wilson said before continuing his lesson.

I sunk into my chair feeling guilty. What did he even say? Was I so much into the brown haired boy that I didn’t even hear my teacher talking? Oh well, it was boring anyway.

When the bell rings I gather my stuff and walk to Mr. Wilson’s desk. I wait in front of his desk as he tells the other students goodbye. The brown-haired boy slowly lifts his head to see everyone has left but me. He looks at me then back at Mr. Wilson. He grabs his backpack and makes his way to leave but Mr. Wilson stops him.

“At my desk Namjoon.” Mr. Wilson said. So, that’s his name…

Namjoon stood in front of Mr. Wilson’s desk next to me looking straight ahead. As Mr. Wilson sat down he sighed rubbing his temples.

“Now I know you two are good kids but you both need to be more involved in class.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Wilson it’s just I don-

"Save it Y/N.” I nodded in silence. He turned his attention to Namjoon

“Namjoon just because you have the highest grade in the class doesn’t mean you can sleep. If I continue to let you sleep others will assume they are allowed to sleep too and I don’t want a sleeping class. Understood?” Mr. Wilson said.

This guy has an A?!

“Yes, sir,” Namjoon said.

“Now let’s discuss how you two will become active students in my class.”

Namjoon and I looked at each other in confusion then back at Mr. Wilson.

“How are we going to do that?” I ask confused.

“I want you two to be study buddies.” Namjoon rolled his eyes. He turned around, walking to the door to leave. He turned around.

“ I’d rather lose participation points. Goodbye Mr. Wilson.” As Namjoon goes to walk out Mr, Wilson clears his throat.

“Are you sure your mother would be happy to hear that?” Mr. Wilson caught Namjoon’s attention. He turns around looking at our teacher in shock.

“You wouldn’t. ” Namjoon said

“Oh, I would.” Mr. Wilson said in a daring tone.

After exchanging information we were given a lesson plan that Mr. Wilson wanted us to go by when we met up for tutoring sessions. He demanded that we stay study buddies until we both become more active in class and left it up to us to decide when we meet.

It’s Tuesday night. I’m trying to finish up some homework but I can’t figure it out. Who cares what x equals! When am I ever going to use this in real life? When I go to the corner store the cashier doesn’t tell me “ That’ll be x for your honey buns.”  They tell me to give them a dollar and move on with life. Why can’t these Algebra people understand that? Adults wonder why kids don’t like school…

“I brought pizza!” I hear my mom from downstairs. I put my homework down and run downstairs. My mom gives me a tight hug before getting herself a paper plate. I guess neither of us is in the mood to wash dishes tonight. We get a slice of pizza and sit together on the couch. Homework is the last thing I’m thinking of as we laugh at Gilmore Girls together.

“So how was work?”

“It was insane. People are quitting left and right. I might have to take up more work soon.” She said

“Ah, I see…” We don’t spend too much time together because of her job. I’m proud of her for landing such a nice deal with the firm and keeping a roof over my head but sometimes I just want to hang out with my mom. Is that too much to ask?

“I’m sorry but that’s how it is. The sooner you learn that the quicker you’ll adapt to being an adult.” I nodded my head as I slipped a piece of pizza in my mouth.

“Besides you got that boy to hang out with.” I spit out my pizza.

“Mom what?”

“Well, your teacher texted me today saying he got you a study buddy to help with your math. You are going to do that right?” My mom asked.

I stare at her with my pizza back on my plate, she stares back intensely. It’s like a bear staring at its prey. The overwhelming silence compels me to nod my head so this can be over. I wasn’t actually planning on contacting the dude. Now I have to. Shit.

It’s Wednesday afternoon. I’m sitting with my friends Jackson and Amber at lunch. The school food0…………………. isn’t that bad today so Jackson’s tearing it up. Amber and I stare at him in absolute disgust.

“I’ve never seen such a pig in my life,” Amber said.

“Shut up you love me,” Jackson says with a mouth full of food. Gross.

Across the room, I see him again. Namjoon. He’s with a group of boys I always see him with during music class. I recognize Jimin and Hoseok but not the rest of them. He looks happy? He always looks so mentally drained and tired whenever I see him but this time it’s different. He turns his head this way and I look away. After watching Amber and Jackson argue about whether Cuphead or Overwatch is better I return my attention back to Namjoon. As I soon as I turn my head his eyes meet mine. He noticed. Shit.

Later on in the day I’m in Algebra again trying to find out the meaning of this nonsense. I used to like math. You know when it was simple. Addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division. Not imaginary numbers and all this x,y over 100 bullcrap. I try my best to pay attention. Mr. Wilson puts a question from the homework on the board. Oh my god I think I might actually know the answer to this question! When he asks for the answer I raise my hand desperately hoping he picks me. Pick me! Choose me! I know the answer for once in my life!

“ Yes Y/N?” Yes! Mr. Wilson picked me.

“Is the answer four?” I said unsurely.

“Unfortunately not. Anyone else?” Of course, I didn’t get the answer right. The Algebra gods hate me. I sulk as Mr. Wilson tries to pick someone else.

“It’s two.” Someone mumbles. It was a faint whisper but we all heard it. The class heads go left and right trying to figure out who said the answer. After a few seconds of trying to figure it out, Mr. Wilson turns and writes two on the board.

“That’s correct Namjoon the answer is in fact two.” Mr. Wilson said. It was him?! The rest of the class was as shocked as I was and shared their feelings with each other almost immediately.

“That lazy jerk got the answer, right? I guess he does pay attention.”

“I thought he was sleep?”

“Woah he got the right answer, even though he was sleep! I want to sleep in class too!”

Namjoon seemed to hear every last word they said about him but he didn’t care. He just deepened his head in the comfort of his own arms on his desk. How can he just ignore all of that? He didn’t even utter a thank you for the compliments he got. Even the negative things got no response. He just went back to sleep. How can he just go back to sleep?!

When the final bell rang everyone started packing up their things to leave and walked out saying their goodbyes to those who don’t go home the same way. As I packed my binder in my bag I noticed that Namjoon was still asleep. Jeez, when does this guy go to bed? I leave my bag on my desk and approach his desk slowly, trying to keep quiet so I don’t startle him. I stand over his desk and go for a simple tap on the shoulder.

tap, tap, tap

He starts to move a little. I back up. He stops moving. I get back where I was before but a bit closer to see he’s still asleep. The only thing changed is I can see his face now. His brown hair covering some of his face. He looks so at peace I almost feel bad for trying to wake him up. I look closer.. are those dimples? I didn’t notice them before at lunch. I go to move his hair out of his face. I’m so close. I’ve never been so close to anyone bef-

His eyes snap open with my hand less than a centimeter towards his face.

“What are you doing?” He asked his voice raspy than ever which is totally not helping the situation. I lower my hand from his face and look down at the floor in shame. He must think I’m a weirdo. Ignoring him I grab my bag off my desk and head to the door.

I’m at home now drowning myself in leftover pizza from last night. How could I be so stupid? I couldn’t just mind my business and go like everybody else. I just had to wake him up. He was kind of cute though…

A buzz sounds from my phone. I look over to see I got a text, picking it up I see a question mark next to the contact name. Huh?

From:?

Why were you staring at me today?

I texted mystery person back.

To:?

Who is this?

I got a response almost immediately.

From:?

It’s Namjoon. Didn’t Mr. Wilson tell you to save my number?

Oh great, it’s him. I changed the contact name before I texted him back.

To: Namjoon

I saved your number I just didn’t save your name.

From: Namjoon

Well, that’s rude.

To: Namjoon

I forgot okay? Don’t act like you haven’t done it before.

From: Namjoon

We meet Friday at my house. Be there at 4 pm. Maybe then you’ll answer my question.

I roll over on my bed, the box of pizza only had two slices left. I closed the box and put it on the stove for mom whenever she get’s home. Picking out a big shirt and some shorts I go take a shower. As the water runs down my body memories of Namjoon from earlier today kept replaying in my head. The smile on his face at lunch. His dimples poking out for the world to see. His brown eyes catching me in the act. There was something I saw in his eyes that I never saw in anyone before. They were innocent yet deceiving almost luring me in. Then when I tried waking him up the innocence I saw in his eyes lurked on his resting face. Could this be why he covers his face while he sleeps? Maybe I’m over thinking about this. I get out the shower, a towel wrapped around my body carefully stepping on the tile bathroom floor I make it to my pajamas slipping into them once I’m dry. Crawling in my bed I think of what could happen on Friday until I drift asleep.

It’s Thursday morning and it’s too early for this shit. I slept through my alarm clock so I was almost late to school today. Not only that but when I got to the breakfast they ran out of all the good stuff! Where’s my toast? My pop tarts? Dammit, sleep! It was definitely not worth it. First thing in the morning I have English with Amber and Jackson. I walk in class, my bag on my shoulder slowly walking to my desk next to Amber. Pulling out my things she looks at me with a knowing look.

“Overslept?” She asked.

“Yeah… I didn’t eat either.” I sighed. A gasp from in front of us make us look away from each other

“You poor soul!” Jackson says walking in with a toothy grin.

“Why are we friends with you?” Amber asked shaking her head.

“I don’t know you tell me, tomorrow at the skate park,” Jackson said suggesting we hang out.

“Can’t I got a study session with Namjoon tomorrow,” I said

“Studying? You?” Jackson chuckled.

“I study!” I insisted.

“That’s not what your report card said last semes-” Amber started

“Let’s. Not. Even. Go. There.”  I said rolling my eyes at them.

The longer the day the worse it became. Something broke in the cafeteria kitchen so we were forced to take cold food or nothing at all. I chose nothing at all. I almost wanted to call my mom to bring me some food but I don’t want to burden her with my lousy pickiness. It’s not like I didn’t have a choice I just chose to starve.

My head is empty along with my stomach. My eyes grow wearier in each class. I don’t think I can make last period. Algebra is the last thing I want to do on this forsaken day of my life. I walk into Mr. Wilsons class clear annoyance on my face as I take out my stuff and sit. Namjoon walks in after me and sits down. I noticed he doesn’t put his head down until Mr. Wilson takes a roll call. The second the bell rings Mr. Wilson takes roll and knows he’s here there goes Namjoons head, his face hidden between his arms relaxing on top of his desk.

As Mr. Wilson explains what we’ll be doing in class today my eyes fight to stay open my head threatening to hit the desk. I try to balance myself by keeping my hand under my chin but that doesn’t seem to be working. I tell myself to hold on just a little longer.

Just a little longer.

I wake up in the nurse office on the bed my backpack on the chair next to it. I sit up rubbing my head.

“What happened?” I said trying to think back but I can’t remember.

“You fainted in class.” I look up to see Namjoon leaned on the door with his arms crossed. This is the first time I actually got a good look at him. While the school uniform looks a bit odd to me it actually fits him perfectly. His hoodie kind of kills the gentlemen vibe of the uniform but it must be comfortable when he sleeps in class. Namjoon pushes off the door and walks towards the chair moving my backpack so he can sit down. He gets nice and comfortable before looking at me. What does he want from me?

“You should’ve eaten instead of being picky,” Namjoon said

“You should stay awake in class.” I pointed at him.

“Says the one who passed out.” He said a playful smirk on his face. The deceiving twinkle in his eye brightens at my embarrassment. Namjoon goes into his pocket and pulls out a bag of sliced apples. As he stands up ready to leave he puts the sliced apples in my lap. He waves to me from behind not looking back.

“Don’t forget tomorrow Y/N.”

It’s finally Friday. As I leave Mr. Wilsons class he stops me on the way out.

“Study hard today,” he said giving me a thumbs up. I told him I would and kept walking. I meet up with Jackson and Amber at the front gate. They both smiled mischievously at me. I furrow my eyebrows in suspicion.

“What are you two up to?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing we just saw your date leave earlier.” Amber teased. I rolled my eyes and kept walking. Jackson got in front me.

“Cute little nerd you got to tutor you. Where do I sign?” Jackson continued. All the way home they went back and forth teasing me.

These two will be the death of me.

After Namjoon sent me his address I got what I needed and walked to his house. Turns out it wasn’t too far from my house maybe two or three blocks down. His house was a simple two-story white and brown house with a bench on the front porch. I walked up the porch stairs to knock on the door but before I could he opened the door. Seeing that I was here Namjoon moved aside and let me walk in the house which was just as simple looking as the outside but with more furniture. He closes the door and leads me to a table near the kitchen. I carefully set my stuff down on the table pulling out my calculator, today’s classwork, and the homework. Namjoon sits down across from me silently watching. Well, this is awkward. I clear my throat.

“This is a- ”

“Awkward I know. I’m sorry.” He cut me off running a hand through his brown hair nervously.

“I was going to say a nice house…” I finish making things even more awkward. He sighs with his eyes closed before he looks at me again.

“Let’s just start. Are you ready?” I nod my head pencil in hand.

The longer I was at Namjoon’s house the less awkward it got between us. One question at a time I guess. First, he let me do today’s classwork on my own before checking it. After he checked it he explained that I’m skipping steps and showed me how to break that habit before our test. Then we did the homework together obviously finishing his before I finished mine. There were some questions I did understand so he didn’t have to help me with everything but there was A LOT I didn’t understand. Some were the same mistakes I made on the classwork. I could tell I was aggravating him a bit but I couldn’t help it.  Maybe this was a good idea to be study buddies with Namjoon. Despite the annoyance clear on his face Namjoon was kind and patient with me. He even gave me a sheet of examples he made to take home. I just wished this wasn’t forced.

It’s been two hours since we started and Namjoon and I decided to take a break from practice questions. He gave me some more sliced apples while he had grapes.

“What is with you and fruit?” I ask him curiously.

“Fruit is good for the brain and body.” He explained.

“Right…” I said

“If you want something else I can-

"No! It’s fine I was just curious because earlier today you gave me the same bag of sliced apples.” I said not wanting to be rude in his house. Namjoon shrugged and he motioned me to follow him. I followed him to his living room and sat on the couch with him. He reached for the remote and turned it on. He turned to me.

“Any suggestions?” Namjoon asked. Why is he asking me? It’s his TV.

“Um, anything you want to watch,” I said taking a sliced apple out the bag he gave me and plopped one in my mouth. The tasty fresh juice explodes in my mouth. What the hell? I’ve never had apples like this before.

“My friend Taehyung’s grandma has a farm down south. Sometimes when he has too much he’ll drop some off here. My mom slices it up and puts them in these little bags for me. Do you like them?” He looked at me. I nodded my head swallowing the piece of apple. Namjoon flipped through the channels.

flip, flip, flip

“Wait! Go back!” I yelled startling him. Namjoon hurriedly turned back a channel he flipped passed.

“I knew I saw Rachel and Ross,” I said smiling.

“What is this?” He asked. I gasped dramatically.

“You never heard of Friends before?!”

Forget the practice questions. I’m about to get Namjoon hooked.

After watching multiple episodes I successfully got Namjoon into Friends. He was confused at first wondering why I kept laughing at everything Phoebe said before realizing she’s dumb. He seemed to take a liking to Ross.

“Y/N does Ross ever had any good luck?” Namjoon asked.

“No, not in this season but I think that’s what makes him special. You don’t need good luck to have a good life. Right?” I said

“Yeah that’s a positive way of seeing him…” he murmured.

My phone rang loud from Namjoon’s dining table making us both jump. I get up to see it’s my mom.

Answer

“Hello?”

“Y/N it’s nine o'clock where are you?” Oh shit! I run to the nearest window and see it’s dark outside. Curse you Ross and Rachel! Namjoon walks in behinds me. He looks at me concerned mouthing the words. “Are you okay?” I nod and get back on the phone.

“Sorry, mom I lost track of time. I’m still at Namjoon’s house.” I said hoping she won’t chop me in half when I get home.

“Oh? The boy helping you with your math?” My mom said. She sounds calmer now.

“Yeah, that’s him. I’ll be home soon so don’t worry. I’m leaving right now okay?” I tell my mom. I grabbed my bag and shoved my stuff in it in a rush to get home now.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.” She hung up.

My hand reaches for the doorknob only to meet Namjoon’s hand. I look up at him confused.

“Let me walk you home.”

Halfway to my house Namjoon and I talked about whatever came to mind on our way there. He told me how he met Jimin and Hoseok along with the rest of his friends I saw him with at lunch the other day. He asked me about my friends so I told him some funny stories about Amber and Jackson like that one time we blew up some balloons so Amber could have boobs for a day or when Jackson gave our old friend Mark wasabi chocolates for Valentine’s day. Soon we ran out of things to talk about an awkward silence between us began. We walked in silence until we got to my house. I tell him thanks for walking me home before I open the door I feel a grip on my arm spin me around. I look at Namjoon’s brown eyes.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“You never answered my question.” He said.

“What is it?” I asked him kind of rushing him. My mom could come out at any moment.

“Why were you staring at me earlier?” He asked his hand still gripping my arm. I put my hand on top of his and look into his brown desperate eyes.

“Because you interest me,” I answer honestly. His grip on my arm loosens and I shrug free. I try to open the door again but it’s locked. Really mom? I knock on the door.

knock, knock

“So much for I’ll be home soon.” He joked. I hear the lock click and try again. The door swings open. I look back before I walk in.

“Well, I guess this is it study buddy,” I said.

“Until next Friday,” Namjoon said as he flashes me a smile. I smiled back

“Goodnight Namjoon.” I closed the door.

After telling my mom all about my day over dinner and a little TV my phone buzzes in my pocket. got a new message.

From: Namjoon

Goodnight Y/N

P.S. Maybe one day we can be more than study buddies. If…your okay with that

I smile as I respond.

To: Namjoon

I think I’d like that :)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking For A Place to Happen 6

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, drunkenness, some content not warned.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: The second last chapter of Sam for y’all! 

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 6: Making stops along the way

💀💀💀

You laid on your side and hugged the covers as the bed shifted beside you. Sweaty, sore, exhausted, and the sun was only just dimming beyond the window. Sam’s broad back tensed as he sat up and stretched his arms above him. You could still feel him inside you, not that any reprise lasted long.

He said nothing as you heard the knock again. You barely noticed before but the pounding got louder as Sam pulled on grey jogging pants and chuckled. You groaned and hid your face against the duvet. Every move sent a thrumming pain through you, and agonized emptiness you resented.

Your knee hit the toy as it rolled against you and you flinched. Sometimes you couldn’t tell if it was him or the silicone stretching you. How had it only been a few hours? It felt like you’d been there for days.

“Damn it,” the voice grumbled from the other room, low and muffled by the wall, “I told you I was coming by.”

You recognized it from that fateful night at The Asp; deep and sinister. As brief as your encounter with the man, you could guess he was rarely anything but irritable.

“Calm down,” Sam replied lightly, “I got other things to do…”

“You got business,” Bucky retorted.

“Money’s in the bag,” you heard a soft rustle and a harrumph.

“Should’ve brought it direct,” Bucky complained.

“I’ve been taking care of your other problem,” Sam countered smoothly as you heard heavy footsteps move around the front room.

“I see that,” Bucky mused, his voice clearer, closer.

You lifted your head and quickly hid your bare leg and ass under the blanket. He chuckled as Sam neared and crossed his arms over his thick chest.

“She knows the rules now,” Sam said, “got it all under control.”

“Mmm,” Bucky lifted his chin and turned to Sam, “yeah, yeah, well… my girl…”

“Nice woman… stubborn like you,” Sam remarked.

“Stubborn’s a word for it. She’s, uh, concerned,” he said carefully, “about the girl. Says she’s young--”

“Not deaf either,” you sat up as you clung to the duvet.

He squinted at you and you flinched. Sam glanced at you and tapped a finger against his lips for you to be quiet.

“You know Steve’s girl is having that little thing at the bar. Her birthday or some shit.”

“Steve won’t shut up about it,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“He’s sweet on her. Too sweet.” Bucky sniffed, “Anyway, bring the girl, need mine to stop worrying.”

“Ah, sure, when was it again?”

“Tomorrow,” Bucky jutted his jaw out, “actually…” he peeked over at you as he thought, “take her by my lady’s place. The girls will be there getting all dolled up.”

“I’m busy--” you began and Bucky snapped his fingers at you.

“You said she knew the rules,” he pointed at Sam, “maybe you should remind her before I have to see her again.”

He turned and you saw his leather jacket as he stomped away, seizing a leather bag from the coffee table as he passed. The door slammed in his stead and Sam leaned against the wooden frame to look at you. He shook his head and sighed.

“Don’t know what it is about that man and women,” he gave a smirk, “but y’all sure do like to take the piss out of him.”

💀

It was easy enough to find any house in Birch, there were only so many. As you were realising too late, this was detrimental, not just to you but many in the thrall of the club’s clutches. There was no place to hide from those men and their cruelty.

He handed you your phone back before he let you go. He warned that you better use it wisely. He would meet you at the bar later; you were to make your way over with the group of women you didn’t know.

You neared the front door of the yellow house and knocked. You waited nervously, the cold air slipping in under your long jacket. A woman opened the door and you wondered if you were at the wrong place. Typical. You could even get lost in Birch.

“Oh, you must be the last,” she chimed, “I’m Mel.”

You smiled and awkwardly gave your name. She beckoned you inside and you added your boots and coat to those already by the door. You dressed for the occasion, Sam approved of the outfit with a growl after advising you to wear something slutty. You hadn’t worn the tight leather leggings and the strappy crop top since your club days in your two years of community college.

Mel looked you over but made no remark on your attire as she pointed up the stairs, “to the left, you’ll hear them.”

You ascended and the low hum of 90s music and female voices reached you from the slightly open door just down the hall. You neared and knocked as you waited tentatively. You knew Bucky’s girl from the bar but never had the chance to talk to her. You never did well with strangers, always the weird one, the funny one.

“Hey,” Bucky’s girl swung open the door, “just in time.”

“Um, hi,” you stepped into the small bedroom, “I brought tequila.”

You held up the bottle as you peered around. The mechanic was on the bed, her brows arched sardonically as she watched the quiet baker girl that sat at the slim desk and checked her appearance in a hand mirror. She hovered a stick of eyeliner in front of her face but never made contact with her skin as she bared her teeth. You put the bottle down on the corner of the dresser.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she wisped but quieted at her name as Bucky’s girl introduced them, “oh, hi.”

You smiled and stared quietly. You chuckled nervously and rung your hands. “Did you need help? I’ve watched some, um, Youtube stuff on it--”

“Sure,” she lowered the mirror in defeat, “I just don’t wanna mess it up.”

“That’s a lame present,” the mechanic said, “make-up? When you don’t even use it? I always knew Steve was a bitch--”

“At least he got me something,” she handed over the stick of liner as you neared and Bucky’s girl pushed a cushioned chest up from the corner for you to sit, “my pa never did.”

“Just because he’s less of an ass than your pa doesn’t mean he’s not an ass,” the mechanic spat as she pulled at the front of her stiff dress, black with little gems set into the fabric.

“Oh, and look at you, wearing that clown suit,” Bucky’s girl intoned, “we’re all in the same boat.”

“What kinda look you going for?” you asked as you cleared your throat.

“I… don’t know, something pretty,” she smiled meekly.

You nodded and looked over your shoulder at the bottle of tequila. You peeked back at the girl as she squirmed nervously.

“We should do some shots,” you said, “it’s your birthday, right? You should have fun… try to relax.”

“Her, relax?” The mechanic scoffed.

“Shots sound good, I’ll get some glasses,” Bucky’s girl said from behind you.

She left and you asked the baker to close her eyes. You held her head carefully as you stretched her eyelid and traced it carefully. It was much easier to do on someone else. You added a little wing and balanced out her other eye before you sat back.

Bucky’s girl plunked four short amber shot glasses on the dresser and poured as you went over the gift bag full of make-up with Steve’s girl. She chose a rosy shade of pink that you gently applied to her lips.

Bucky’s girl handed out the glasses. The mechanic didn’t flinch or wait before she downed hers. Steve’s girl frowned as she took hers and you gave a thank you as you accepted a glass. 

“I can already feel the burn,” the baker girl bemoaned.

“Come on, loosen up,” you raised your shot and downed it, “jeez, how old are y’all?”

“Old enough to know better,” Bucky’s girl said, “you know, you really got yourself in the shit but I’m sure I don’t need to tell you.”

“Oh you mean the local den of assholes,” you snorted, “shot, shot, shot.”

You encouraged Steve’s girl until she reluctantly knocked back the tequila. You took her glass and your own and went to the dresser. You refilled them and offered her the second.

“You really don’t learn,” the mechanic blinked.

“No, I do but I’d rather be drunk and miserable than sober and miserable,” you raised your shot, “and you guys, this,” you pointed to them, “the look, sure you got some years but you’re still young enough. You needa show some skin.”

“It’s below zero,” Bucky’s girl narrowed her eyes.

“The tequila will keep you warm,” you nudged Steve’s girl and mirrored her as you drained your shot.

“She’s gonna get us all killed,” the mechanic muttered.

“No, I’m gonna get you lit,” you grabbed the bottle and turned up the little speaker in the corner before shimmying over to her. You filled her glass and took a swig directly from the bottle, “also, I can hardly feel anything anymore.”

💀

“I’m telling you,” you slurred, “you can’t wear that! We stop by my place and I’ll get you the look.”

“The look?” Bucky’s girl interjected, “you mean the hypothermic style?”

“My nan has more style than all of you,” you stumbled off the main road away from the bar, “come on!”

“We’re gonna be late,” Steve’s girl squeaked.

“For what? It’s your birthday,” you grabbed her hand and ran ahead.

The other two followed a few feet back as you led them down to your nan’s house. You dragged her up the steps and leaned heavily on the door as you burst through. The smell of cigarette smoke met your nostrils as your grandmother appeared in the door of the front room and puffed as she watched you sway.

“Nan!” you dropped the baker girl’s hand and outstretched your arms as you grandmother swiftly sidestepped you and sucked on her cigarette.

“I see you’ve made friends,” she tutted, “try not to make a mess of my house or you’ll be cleaning it up, drunk or not.”

“We won’t be here long, we just need clothes… you got any of that wine left?”

“No more for you, girly,” she chided.

“Girls, girls, girls,” you turned back, “this is my nan. She kills bikers.”

“Shut your mouth, girly,” your grandma snarled, “you might be three sheets to the wind but words carry.”

“Do you?” the mechanic spoke up, more and more quiet as she imbibed.

Your nan gave her a long look. There was a moment of silence, understanding, commiseration. The old lady shrugged and tilted her head.

“I haven’t messed with bikers since 1978 and I don’t plan on starting again,” she butted out the cigarette in the empty coin tray on the console table, “go on, get what you need and get out.”

“Ugh, fine,” you moped away and waved the girls up the stairs behind you. 

You leaned heavily on the railing as you ascended and they followed behind you in disorder, several times supporting each other in the climb. Inside your room, you pulled open your closet and looked at the impulse purchases you never had a chance to wear. You don’t know why you bought them, they were all cheap and generic, but you were always a sucker for a sale.

“Here,” you handed the mechanic as shiny silver top with straps, “I should have something to go with it.”

You handed out clothes like candy, some of the tags still attached so you ripped them off clumsily. The mechanic ended up in the silver top and black pleather leggings, Bucky’s girl in dark blue dress with cutouts that you ordered in the wrong size, and Steve’s girl in no more than bright red bra and some high rise jeans.

“We’re gonna freeze,” Bucky’s girl whined.

“Suck it up and put your coat on,” you snapped, “now, we’re ready for fun!”

“Steve’s not gonna like this,” the baker moaned.

“You need more alcohol! Who gives a shit what he thinks?” The mechanic nudged her, “he’s a prick.”

“They’re all pricks,” Bucky’s girl giggled, “what’s this?”

You turned as she pulled out the bottle of Smirnoff hidden in your top drawer. It was still sealed because you didn’t like the grape flavour but she quickly broke the plastic. She took a gulp and scrunched her face as she held it out to Steve’s girl.

“No more, it’s too much!”

“If only Thor hadn’t dragged his girl off,” Bucky’s girl pushed the bottle to Steve’s girl’s lips, “but we gotta make up for her, don’t we?”

“Shit, shit,” the mechanic chuckled and grabbed the bottle as the baker struggled to swallow, “we’re gonna get in some shit, girls.”

“Is that idiot ever happy? Loki? What a dumb name?” Bucky’s girl snarled.

“They all suck,” you added.

“Ugh, don’t get me started on Sam,” the mechanic wiped her glistening lips, “preying on a kid.”

“I’m not… not a kid,” you hiccuped.

“You didn’t know who Aaran Carter is,” Bucky’s girl said, “you’re a kid.”

You laughed and took a swig and cringed at the burn of the vodka, “I’m an adult.”

“Sure don’t act like it,” the mechanic said loudly.

“Who gives a fuck? Tonight, we don’t,” Bucky’s girl said, “come on, let’s go see those bastards and show ‘em we don’t fuckin’ care.”

You snickered as you found your coat where you left it on the bed and the lot of you staggered down the back steps and around the house. The winter air crawled over you and sent a shiver up your spine. You hardly felt it in the warm glow of the alcohol; not the cold, not the dread that had lingered for days, not even the regret. You were completely and pleasantly drunk out of your mind.