#I just wish we had an offensive binder that didn’t need to have as much luck as dark hunters in set up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dailyreverie · 3 years

Text

Peace

A/N: This was requested by @mary3030 and boy... it broke my heart when I got the request and it broke my heart when I was writing it. This may have also been inspired by Peace by Taylor Swift so read at your own risk.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 2.09k

Warnings: swearing, screaming, crying, couple fight.

[gif by @mcavoys]

Everything had bubbled up until it bursted right up your faces. His job, your job, the engagement, and now you were left dealing with the chaos that all of that had created.

“I just want to make sure I’m marrying someone who will come back home from work every day.” You stated, the wedding binder long forgotten on the kitchen island. You didn’t feel like you were asking for much, but when Bucky’s shoulders tensed you realized how wrong you were.

“So what? I’m supposed to quit this life and get an office job?” His sarcastic remarks were not being funny this afternoon, they were just making your blood boil hotter. “I told you before, some missions are harder than others.”

“Do I have to remind you how the last mission went? Do we need to talk about it?” Bucky’s ice cold stare pierces through you but you hold it, challenging him with the tone of your voice alone. “Do you want me to pull out those voicemails again?”

Those voicemails. Voicemails threatening you had filled your inbox a couple missions ago. They made Bucky go into a dark side of himself, one you wish you never had to see again.

“Shut up.” He whispered in between his teeth, standing up and moving away from you.

“You don’t get to tell me to shut up, Bucky! I’m asking for a very reasonable thing here.”

“You think I can just ask? ‘Hey Sam, I’m getting out of this one today, the missus is waiting for me for dinner.’ That’s not how this works.”

“Oh so I’m going to be your housewife now?” Your eyebrows shut up in offense, crossing your arms again as you stare at him.

He sighs, rubbing his face with his hands. “You are unbelievable.”

“I am unbelievable? For what?” You can see Bucky’s intentions of turning around and leaving the room, but your hand is faster, grabbing his wrist to stop him. “I don’t want to wake up one day to the news of you being gone! I’m unbelievable for asking you to be safe?” Tears are coming out of your eyes, falling down your cheeks from the mere thought of it, of Bucky not coming home one day.

“You are not asking me to be safe, you are asking me to quit my job!” He shakes your hand away, his voice getting louder every word he speaks.

“That’s not what I’m asking for!” You choke out.

“Then what is it?” Bucky’s face is inches away from you, his eyes taking in all your anger and multiplying it in his.

“I’m only asking for some fucking peace!” There’s an attempt to raise your voice to avoid the broken sounds of your crying, but the volume somehow only makes you sound more hurt.

“If you wanted peace then you should not have said yes when I gave you that ring!”

You are taken aback by his words, by the truth in them that he didn’t even try to stop from coming out. A sob comes out of your lips, and once Bucky realizes you are already pushing him away from you. “Well maybe I shouldn’t have.”

You don’t feel the weight of his body dipping the mattress next to you that night.

When you wake up, your alarm beeping loudly in the room, you wonder when did you even fell asleep. You want to say you got 3 hours of sleep in total, but that feels greedy when your body kept tossing and turning and fighting against the thoughts and tears of what Bucky and you said to each other last night.

There’s an eerie feel in the air, weighing you down and almost pining you to the bed, not letting you get up. It's too quiet, everything feels quiet, and you wonder if that's how battlefields feel to Bucky after any fight. It is as quiet as any word that may want to come out in Bucky's direction would be, there's nothing you may want to say to him, nothing left after everything you said before.

He broke your heart, shamelessly so, and you try to replay the whole scene from last night trying to point the exact moment where everything went wrong but the truth is there were so many. So many things that were just waiting to come out from both of you and once they did there was no stopping from there.

You throw the covers away from your body, forcing yourself to face the day even if on autopilot. You need a shower, you need coffee, you need food; you can feel your body craving any liquid, feeling almost dehydrated from all the water you lost in the form of tears. One step at a time, you think. Maybe that's how you will face the rest of your life one day anyway.

It is basically an automatic movement to you by now, removing everything from your body before stepping into the shower, you don’t even have to think about it which you are thankful for since your mind feels heavy, as if the fog of the warm water had also fogged the inside of your head. You try to not think about Bucky even though he is probably a few meters away, but every single thing reminds you that your life is now also his, clouding your thoughts: his toothbrush, his towel, his aftershave. It would be easy for him to not come back one day, but those reminders are there serving its purpose to let you know that you are the one who would end up having to deal with whatever is left of him. You can’t deal with that.

The fog melts away when you open the door of the bathroom and find Bucky sitting on the bed. You remember last night again, choking back the tears that sting at your eyes again as his words reach you once more. If you wanted peace then you should not have said yes.

Anger bubbles up your stomach when you are reminded of his words. He is fidgeting with his fingers before looking up at you. Bucky stands up but doesn’t move any closer to you, he just stands there and watches as you do the same. He looks as broken as you feel, swollen eyes with a sunken shade. You have kissed those kind of eyes away, those are the ones that appear after his mind goes against him at night and won’t let him sleep and the simple memory of all those dawns where you held him make your stomach turn but fuck it, you are not caving in when he is the reason you are feeling miserable.

There’s not the usual good morning, not the usual morning kiss. His mouth opens and closes but when you step away and walk past him towards your closet you can hear an exasperated sigh leave his lips. The door of the bathroom closes behind you with a slam that makes your shoulders flinch.

Making your way into the living room there are no signs of where Bucky slept. Not a pillow out of place, or a blanket spreaded over the couch. You wonder if he even tried to sleep. A hand rubs your face as you set the coffee maker for 2 cups. It is an automatic motion too, filling the pot and pouring the coffee for always the same two cups. Your eyes go foggy while the drips of coffee fall in the silence of the apartment, an apartment that’s already used to two as much as you are too, you realize. How easy it is for Bucky to ignore it when you are the one who would have to deal with a half-empty place. You hate him for it, or at least you wish you could.

That’s how Bucky finds you, with your arms crossed over your chest and your eyes lost at some distant thought but looking straight into the dripping drops of coffee. He stands next to you and without a word reaches for your left hand, unhooking it from your crossed arms and holding it gently. You want to yank it away, get away from his touch, but suddenly his right fingers are holding the diamond ring he gave you all those months ago and your breath stops at your throat. The ring, the one that finds place between your knuckles with the promise of a lifetime together but that ended up forgotten on top of the sink this morning, letting Bucky find it there when he went to take a shower.

Bucky slides the jewel down your finger and leaves his fingers there for a second, making sure the ring stays there where it belongs, clasping his hand around your fingers with a firm grip.

You forgot, that’s what you should say, but when you look at him with tears hinting to come out, his eyes are stuck looking at your fingers in between his as his hand closes around yours; and all of a sudden every angry thought and every curse word is out of your mind when you realize how broken the man you love is.

“Bucky, I-”

“No, doll. You don’t have to.” He interrupts with a voice that breaks your heart, but the way he calls you doll makes your heart flutter. You are fine, you both will be alright. He looks up to meet your eyes then, and the sadness in them makes you choke on your own words.

“Please, Buck, let me explain.” You try again, but he shakes his head to stop you.

“I don’t need to hear anything.” Bucky states, lifting up your hand to kiss your knuckles one by one until he reaches the ring. “I didn’t mean to say that you should have not said yes, because I can’t imagine living without you.”

“Oh, Bucky.” His name comes out in a whisper from your lips. Your free hand goes up to his cheek and he leans into the touch, sad eyes locking with your own, and he is still not letting go of your right hand.

“I can’t let you get away. I don’t know how to give you peace, and I got scared because you- you could find it so easily out there.” Words die at his throat as he swallows a lump. “But I promise I… I can give you everything else, anything, I swear.” His eyes hold back tears and they look at you as if they were begging you. His fingers toy with the ring and he examines it just as he did the day he bought it. It is supposed to mean a lifetime, one that lasts at least another hundred years if it were for him, not one that ends after a battle gone wrong. “I just want you to be happy.”

“You make me so, so happy, Bucky. I’m sorry if I made you feel that you don’t, because you do. You make me feel so happy, and safe. I already got everything I need, and I would never in a million years would have said no to a lifetime with you.” His lips press to your fingers again, lingering on the shiny diamond for a few seconds. “If you don’t come back one day I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. I just- I got scared too.” You let the tears fall freely from your eyes as now you know he is there to catch them.

His blue eyes find yours, much calmer than the last time you saw them when they were full of anger, and you finally feel like you can breathe normally again. Bucky’s large hands cup your cheeks and pull you to him, pressing your foreheads together before giving you a slow kiss. “We’ll figure it out, I promise you.” He promises, kissing you again somehow slower, feeling every millimeter of your lips against his, taking the time to feel the way you begin to melt into his body in forgiveness, how your lips part ever so slightly to kiss him back.

“I know,” You assure him. You are holding the hands that are cupping your face as he kisses your tears away, locking eyes with you once he’s sure there’s no one left and finally a small smile on your lips appears, making Bucky match it. “We always do.”

“Let’s just not do that again, please.” Bucky says, and you sigh a soft laughter out. He takes your right hand again and kisses the ring once more.

“Never again.”

✨✨✨

Thanks for reading! Reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

taglist: @queen-asteria04@theycallmegreentea@harrysthiccthighss@spacecadet-66@buckobearbarnes@winterdumpling@mishkatelwarriorgoddess @book-fic-reader @libbie29@old-enough-to-know-better73@sixshooter665@edencherries@lunarthoughts@salome-c@rosie-posie08@akaaaaashiiii@1marvelnerd3000@one-hell-of-a-disappointment@lees-spousey-wowsey@hallecarey1

Join the taglist!

208 notes · View notes

princehrry-writings · 3 years

Text

Friends Don't

ahhhh, i hope you love it!! please send in requests!! let me know what you think, and if you like it maybe share with your friends?

wordcount: 3226

warnings: mentions of alcohol, maybe swearing? tbh I don't think anything else.

we love a good bff's to lovers :)

All Harry did was shrug him off and say his final goodbyes- heading back out to his car that he had been in not more than 20 minutes ago when he arrived to have dinner with Jeff, and followed the gravitational pull that always seemed to lead back to you.

Harry is your best friend that you're in love with, but neither of you will admit it.

“What are you doing here, it’s the middle of the fucking night H?” It was cold, too cold to stand there on your front porch in nothing but a big teeshirt and shorts. The smile on his face was cheeky, but when was it not with him.

“Just wanted to stop by, that’s all. Got bored…” He said and you sighed, shaking away the blush that wanted to creep up your neck. His hair was a bit messy and his clothes were wrinkled, like he’d been tossing and turning in them. He made his way into your house after you stepped aside to let him in and made himself comfortable like he always does when he comes over.

With a huff, he collapsed on your living room couch, you following in suit and cuddling into his side. It wasn’t uncommon for you to find yourself here in this position. The middle of the night was usually a time when Harry’s mind ran wild, you weren’t much different. Usually, it was the man himself plaguing your mind, but you’d never tell him that.

It’s ok, he’d never tell you that you were the reason he kept himself up at night either.

“Wanna go lay down?” You asked quietly, fidgeting with the rings on your best friend’s hand as the other tangled itself in your hair just the way he knew would relax you. A soft hum arose from him and you nodded, reluctantly separating your bodies and treading up to your room. Harry felt like he spent more nights here than at his own house.

Harry’s phone buzzed beside him, pulling his attention away from whatever Jeff had been talking about for the last 5 minutes. A message from you sat there on his screen asking if he wanted to come over and have a movie night and order take out. Another message popped up a few seconds later adding “I have wine 😏” and a smile crept onto his cheeks, something he was never able to control when it came to you. There wasn’t much you couldn’t get him to do, it was something about you that fascinated him. He felt safe with you, safe enough to do anything. He didn’t have to worry about something being leaked to the press or worse- being made fun of by you. He quickly typed back a reply saying he’d be there in 20 minutes and to call in the order to your favorite place not far from your house so he could pick it up on the way. Jeff finally stopped talking as Harry caught his attention, telling him he had to go.

“Wait what? We just got here, we haven’t even ordered yet! Where are you going?” Harry shrugged and said something came up and he had to go but the look in his eyes told Jeff everything he needed to know.

“So you’re leaving me to go see the girl you claim you’re not in love with?” A blush crept up Harry’s neck and onto his face, turning so the man couldn’t see it. With a shake of his head and a cough to clear the lump that had gathered in his throat, he turned back to his friend sitting in front of him.

“She’s my best friend, m’not in love with her!” He defended, wondering which one of them he was trying to convince more and pushing that thought to the back of his mind. The sound of Jeff scoffing, he swore, could be heard from outside the restaurant they were at right now, and the pointed look being directed at Harry was enough to make him want to shrink back into himself just to get away from it.

“H… I hate to break it to you, but friends don’t cancel other plans just to see each other…” Somewhere in his mind, Harry knew that- but that was a thought for another time. Right now, he was just focusing on making it to your house with your guys’ favorite takeout food and cuddling up to you on your couch or in your bed to watch movies he wouldn’t be paying any attention to in favor of watching your eyes light up during your favorite scenes, and drinking what some would say is a little too much wine for a Thursday evening. The two of you didn’t have to worry about that part though- you always had Fridays off.

Loud music and large crowds were something Harry was accustomed to, he’d spent the majority of his teen years and all of his adult life around them, in the middle of them. What he wasn’t used to was you being there with him. He’d convinced you to have a night out with him and a friend that was in town and you hesitantly said yes. The two of you didn’t go out in public together very often, and when you did it was always very meticulous. You showed up separately, acted like you didn’t know each other, and tried to stay away from as many prying eyes as you possibly could. It wasn’t that Harry didn’t want to be seen with you or even that you didn’t want to be seen with him- it was just better for the both of you that your friendship stay out of the public eye. It was better for your job and it made things easier in your personal life as well. The last thing Harry wanted was for the media to start making rumors and for his fans to start ripping you apart like they had been known to do in the past.

The club you guys were at was very exclusive, and you had followed the same protocol of showing up at different times as to not be seen walking in together. You had sworn you’d never been around so many A-list celebrities in your entire life and you were starting to feel a little overwhelmed at all the people you knew of in the room, all the faces you’d seen so many times before only through a screen. You didn’t have much time to panic as Harry was whisking you off to meet the friend he’d told you about that was here. A very familiar Irish accent piqued your ears as you got closer to the bar near the back of the crowded room, a head of brown hair, that in your mind should still be blond, peaking out amongst the people surrounding him. Of course, out of all the friends he has, it had to be Niall Horan he was talking about. Someone that you were very familiar with. Niall had always been your favorite in One Direction and you made sure you reminded Harry of that every chance, uh sorry, every chonce you got.

Memories of the two of you sitting in your car as a 1D song came on the radio and you shushing him as Niall started singing- reminding him that this was “the best part” and turning it up louder than it really needed to be flashed through your mind and you tried your hardest to fight the blush creeping up your neck as you stopped in your tracks, halting both of you from going any further. You shot him a glare and it took everything in you not to slap that smirk off of his face.

“Really? And you didn’t even warn me? What the fuck H?” If your heart wasn’t racing before, it certainly was now at the thought of meeting Niall Horan. You didn’t even freakout this hard when you met Harry for the first time. That encounter seemed like it was yesterday and 100 years ago all at the same time.

“M’a little hurt you didn’t freak out over me like this, love! What does he have that I don’t?” Faking offense, his hand coming up to hold his chest as if you’d actually hurt him. You scoffed and pushed his shoulder away, fully prepared to run and hide in the bathroom the rest of the night. You freaked out over Harry in a different way. One that you didn’t let him ever see. And sure- maybe you went home after the first time you met and screamed your head off to your best friend in your hometown- but he didn’t need to ever know that. But now here you were, 20 feet away from Niall fucking Horan, your teenage celebrity crush, and you didn’t know if you were gonna make it to see tomorrow.

Why you were so freaked out about meeting him you weren’t quite sure. Maybe it was that he was one of Harry’s closest and oldest friends and you wanted him to like you (for reasons you weren’t ready to admit to yourself, let alone Harry) or maybe it was merely the fact that you spent the entirety of your high school career with pictures of him on your wall and on the front of your school binder.

“I’m gonna die tonight…” You muttered to yourself as Harry began dragging you behind him once again, over to the open bar stools next to Niall.

“Oi there he is!” The Irishman turns to see the pair of you, pulling Harry into a long overdue hug.

“Hey mate,” The smile on Harry’s face is one you don’t get to see often as it only comes out when he feels a weight lift off his shoulders. You knew seeing Niall was something he’d been looking forward to, although you didn’t quite know it was Niall until less than 2 minutes ago. Sometimes life gets to be a little too much and having someone that gets it like Niall does is important. You could only offer so much as you had no idea what it was like to walk in his shoes.

“You must be the famous Y/N this guy never stops yappin’ about!” The smile is replaced by a flush you’ve seen plenty of times before. He almost looks like a dog with his tail between his legs as he flicks the brunets forehead.

“Aye, no need for that,”

“I guess that’s me!” You say with a smile, expecting for Niall to extend his hand. He, instead, pulls you into a bone crushing hug that you know 14 year old you would have died for, but current you can’t help but wish it was Harry’s arms wrapped tightly around your body like this. He hugs you like this all the time, if not tighter, but it doesn’t seem like you could ever get enough of the man with green eyes standing next to you with that lopsided smile sewn onto his face.

“M’ Niall, it’s nice to meet you!”

---

Ok. Maybe those last two shots of tequila Niall had talked you into weren’t the best idea. Maybe, dragging Harry out to the dance floor when you were just drunk enough to tell him anything wasn’t the best idea. Maybe you didn’t really care right now because the feeling of his hands on your body in a way that wouldn’t be considered platonic was too good to do anything about.

Drunk you has been known to almost spill a certain 8-letter phrase that sober you would rather keep to herself. Drunk you wishes you could get over yourself and just say it, so every time- like clockwork- you get close to his ear and begin the little phrase. But somehow, by some magical happenstance, an outside force steps in. Almost as if the universe is trying to tell you something. You just can’t figure out if it means don’t tell him at all or don’t tell him like this.

Just as you felt yourself lean in and brush your lips against the outer shell of his ear Niall showed up out of nowhere letting us know he was heading to the bathroom and joking about how if he wasn’t back in 20 minutes to call security.

“What was that you were about t’say love?” He leaned in close to your ear as you had done to him not even 30 seconds ago before you were interrupted. In his inebriated state, it sounded more like “wha’ was tha’ ya were abou’ t’say love,” as he always talked a little sloppier when he’d had a few drinks. He says that when he bit the end of his tongue off that it got rid of his little lisp but it didn’t really. He’s just never sober enough to remember.

“I-uh, I don’t remember now,” You giggled, playing it off as drunken rambling. He nods, pulling you closer, if that was possible at this point, and swaying back and forth off beat to the music. His arms wrap tightly around your waist, face buried in your neck where he felt most at home. Your arms find purchase wrapped around his neck, your head placed gently atop his. To any wandering eye, it would seem as if the two of you were in love with each other.

Someone leaked pictures of your night out to the media. Harry doesn’t even bother to knock as he barges into your house to see you wandering around your kitchen putting things away, acting like you had no idea that the whole world thought you were dating your best friend. Because you didn’t. Your phone had been off all day in favor of getting things done around the house.

“Love, please don’t be mad…”

“Why, what did you do?”

“Have y’not seen?”

“...Seen what, H?”

“Shit,” He muttered under his breath, walking closer to you. He looked like a dog with his tail between his legs. You only grew more suspicious as he pulled his phone out, swiping around until he found what he was looking for.

A cold sweat broke out over your body, throat suddenly dry, heart beginning to race. What you were seeing was a picture of you and Harry with your hands all over each other on the dance floor of the club you were at last Friday night. Your name was attached to the tweet along with Harry’s, obviously, along with other pictures of the two of you together from that night. You felt a little sick.

You were angry that you let your guard down in public but all of your feelings of anguish and sickness washed away when you saw the look of pure fear in Harry’s eyes. He was absolutely terrified that you were going to push him away after this. His mind raced from all of the possibilities. He was terrified to lose you.

“I didn’t mean for this t’happen, pet. Promise! M’so sorry, I-” You shut down his worry, gently placing your hand on his cheek, brushing your thumb under his eye.

“Hey, I know. It’s ok. It’s ok.” You pulled him into your arms, wrapping yourself around him tightly. He melted into you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. This is where he felt most at home. Safe in the arms of the girl he loves. His heart sinks at the idea that she would never know. He doesn’t know if he could live with the idea of you meeting someone else. Holding someone else the way you're holding him now. Tightening his grip on your waist, he pulls his head away from your neck, resting his forehead against yours.

“Y/n… I- god why is it so hard f’me t’say this.” He stumbles over his words, trying to find the courage to say what he’s been waiting for so long to tell you.

“Say what, Haz?” You whispered, heart picking up speed. Your fingers gently brushed away a stray curl that had fallen into his eyes.

He was quiet for a beat, looking anywhere but your eyes. When he finally did make eye contact, your breath caught in your throat. His eyes held a look you had seen so many times before. A look you told yourself didn’t mean anything so many times that for a moment, you almost believed it.

“The way I feel about you…” He whispered. This time, it was his hand that gently met your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye. His eyes flitted back and forth between your lips and your irises.

“Baby, for so long I tried to tell myself that there was nothing here. That we really were just good friends, but we both know…” His voice didn’t raise any higher as he said this. You could feel his hand shaking on your cheek. You held his wrist, returning his intense gaze and nodding your head subtly.

You did know. You hadn’t quite realized that he knew too, but you knew you certainly did. Maybe it was a good thing that someone leaked those pictures.

“Y/n, my darling Y/n… I love you.” Tears welled in your eyes as it felt like the weight of the galaxy had just been lifted from your shoulders.

“I know you do,” Your voice broke, trying to keep the happy tears at bay,” And I love you too.”

He closed the already minuscule distance between the two of you, matching his lips to yours. He poured everything he had ever felt for you into this kiss, holding you even tighter against him. You gave him everything you had and more, hoping that this kiss would be enough to truly tell him how you felt. I love you just isn't big enough. There aren’t enough words in all of the languages combined to truly describe the way you feel about the man kissing you right now.

You fit perfectly together, like one soul that's been split in two and destined to reunite over and over again throughout time. You truly believe you’ve fallen in love with Harry many times before, in different lives, as different people. The connection was just too pure for that not to be the case.

He broke the kiss, both of you gasping for air, him muttering, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” between every breath and wiping away the tears that had managed to escape onto your cheeks.

“What are we gonna do?” You asked after you’d both caught your breath.

“Well, first things first, I think I have a question to ask you…” He trailed, a gentle smirk pulling onto his face.

“M’love, will you be my girlfriend?” You beamed, looking into the green eyes before you, nodding your head more prominently.

“Yes,” You giggled as he cut you off with a kiss. His hands roamed the span of your back, cheekily dipping below your waistline, onto your ass. He rubbed his hands around before you playfully slapped them away, not being able to swipe the smile off your aching cheeks.

“We’ll figure this out, together. As long as I have you, the rest of the world doesn’t matter. We’ll take it one step at a time.” He says with an adoring smile.

The rest of the world doesn’t matter, you decide. You have him. And he’s all you need.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #y/n #reader insert #harry x reader #harry styles x you #harry x you #best friend!harry #one direction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff

276 notes · View notes

disneydreamlights · 3 years

Text

I Won't Lose Her

AO3 | FFN

Summary: When Vader sends a hostage video to Padme saying he holds her daughter captive, she does the only thing she possibly could, tries to save her life for her daughter's.

A/N: For @anidalaweek Day 2: Canon Divergence. Basically a Padme lives and becomes leader of the Rebellion AU because honestly we stan.

Yes I did publish this on AO3 hours before posting it here don't worry about it.

She knew she should've told Bail not to let Leia take the mission.

Padmé Amidala sat at her desk, unable to stop staring at the notice on her page. Leia had been sent to Tatooine to collect Obi-Wan and bring him and the Death Star plans to the Rebellion.

Leia had been captured en route to Tatooine by the Executor and had failed to get to Obi-Wan.

"Padmé." At the sound of her name, Padmé looked up at the hologram of Mon. It was clear that her fellow rebel leaders regretted what had happened to her daughter by the guilty expression on Mon's face. "We have news of Leia."

"News…?" In an instant, Padmé leaned forward, her eyes wide. "What did you learn? What happened? Is Leia alright?"

When Mon didn't answer right away, Padmé felt a surge of panic. "Is...she didn't…"

"No. No. Leia is fine," Mon answered, interrupting her before Padmé could continue to focus on that idea. The emphatic denial gave Padmé some reassurance that Leia was alright. "It's...perhaps I should just show you the message."

Mon vanished, instead showing a hologram of Leia and Vader, the mysterious dark lord of the Sith. "This is a message to Senator Amidala, the true leader of the Rebellion." At the sound of Vader's voice, Padmé's blood went cold. "As I am to understand it, the news of your death was exaggerated. As I have found in the princess's mind...you have been alive and in hiding, controlling this war from the shadows while the Organas and Mothma were the face of your rebellion."

"If you would like your daughter unharmed, you will arrive on the Executor within a standard week from receiving this message. As a show of good faith, I am using a private transponder, and will not trace it to the location of your current base. If you do not arrive, Leia Skywalker will be executed. She will meet the same fate as your late husband."

"I look forward to your arrival on my ship." The hologram vanished, and Padmé fought any feelings of nausea as Mon's face returned.

"I'm sorry Padmé. We're hoping General Kenobi will get there in time, but…"

"But we don't even know if he got Leia's message." The moment she had seen the message, seen that Darth Vader held her daughter, Padmé knew there was only one option for her. "I can't leave her Mon."

"I know." Mon looked down, as though she had expected this. "Please be careful in rescuing your daughter."

Padmé nodded. Once Mon hung up the call, Padmé ran to her closet to find her flight suit.

She'd lost Luke, back when she had first given birth Obi-Wan had insisted it would be best to separate the twins, and Padmé had reluctantly agreed, giving up the chance to know her son for the best chance of life he could have. If she lost her other child too, this one to a more permanent fate, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to forgive herself for the mistake.

She had to trade herself for Leia. The Rebellion would survive without her presence. It was the only option she had.

-x-

The Executor loomed in Padmé's vision, an ominous warning of her impending fate as her small X-Wing steadily crept closer to the Star Destroyer. It was large and imposing, and the Sith inside had already done so much damage to her family that she wasn't sure how she would face him. But she kept holding onto the single hope that Leia was alive when Vader had spoken to her. She just had to keep believing that. The dark feeling in the air meant nothing. She could survive.

The radio clicked on as she received a transmission from the empire. "This is the Executor. You're in a classified zone. State your purpose or you will be shot down."

Padmé took a deep breath, hoping to keep her voice steady in spite of her nerves and fear. "This is Padmé Amidala, leader of the Alliance to Restore the Republic. I'm here to trade myself for the princess Leia Organa."

She watched, anxiously, expecting to be fired on as soon as she stated her name, expecting this to have been a trap to lure her out of the shadows she'd remained in for so long. Instead however, there was nothing but silence before a deep voice came from the radio. "Senator Amidala, I will meet you down in the hangar. Do not try anything foolish. My men will shoot without warning."

The radio cut out, and Padmé took a deep breath. So far, she was alive. A small part of her hoped that this wasn't a trap, but a genuine trade to capture a larger target. She hadn't known Vader to be a man of his word, but then again, besides the fact that he was a Sith and the one who had killed her husband, Padmé didn't know much about him at all.

The hangar bay doors opened, and rather than have to pilot herself in, her ship was grabbed by a tractor beam, slowly pulling her in. Once she was safely inside and the ship landed, she opened the cockpit and jumped out, her hand on the only weapon she had on her, her blaster. In the back, she saw a dark imposing figure with his black armor and the mask that kept his face hidden. She couldn't get a read on him, but he didn't seem keen to attack. To her disappointment, her daughter wasn't with him.

Gathering her courage to her, Padmé broke the silence that had remained between them as neither had spoken. "Lord Vader. I see the promise of my safety wasn't a lie. Where is my daughter?"

"Leia is currently being kept in my quarters." The way he said her name caused Padmé's stomach to tie itself in knots. There was a fondness to it, one the Sith never should have had. She hated to imagine any of the reasons as to why. "If you'll follow me, I'll take you to her."

"How do I know this isn't a trap?"

"If I wanted to kill you, you would already be dead."

The statement was a punch to the stomach, a reminder of what Vader was capable of, and one that left Padmé with little idea of how to respond. Her silence left an awkward void, only filled by the harsh breathing of his respirator.

Seeing no other alternative, she relented. "Very well. I will follow you. But if any harm comes to my daughter–"

"I have no desire to see her harmed, though whether you believe me or not is irrelevant." Vader's voice was harsh, and there was an underlying note of offense, as though he couldn't believe she would assume he would want to hurt Leia. With that, he started down the halls of the Star Destroyer, leaving Padmé confused.

She wasn't in binders, Vader was escorting her himself, and he had no desire to harm Leia.

None of it added up. Yet she still followed him quietly deeper into the ship, trying to figure out just what he was doing and why.

When they finally arrived in his quarters, Padmé was surprised to find that it was furnished fairly normally, although nothing besides the pod in the back looked as though it had been used in quite some time, and in the bed on the back of the room was Leia, who looked no worse for wear to her mother's relief.

"Princess." Leia looked up at Vader. At first, her eyes had been narrowed in distaste, but once she saw Padmé, her eyes widened in shock, and the biting comment she had been preparing for Vader fell silent.

"Leia." Padmé reached out.

"Mother." Leia stood up from the bed and ran into Padmé's arms. "Mother I'm so sorry. I tried to keep everything contained like Auntie 'Soka said but–"

"You did your best Leia. You did so much more than I could've ever expected against Vader." Padmé held Leia close to her, not letting her daughter go as she realized how close she had come to losing her. There weren't any marks on Leia, which meant that Vader hadn't done much to harm her beyond mentally, and Padmé couldn't fight the smile that formed in relief that her daughter was alright. "I'm so proud of you."

"I didn't want you to come. I could've handled Vader."

"I already lost so much Leia. I couldn't lose you too." Padmé kissed her daughter on the head, and Leia hugged her once more.

They stood there, holding each other, though Padmé wasn't sure for how long before she heard Leia whisper in her ear. "Artoo and Threepio got away. I think they made it to General Kenobi."

Through it all. Leia still made sure that the mission succeeded. If Padmé thought she couldn't have been prouder of the girl, she was mistaken. Leia had gotten the message to Obi-Wan (and to Luke). The Death Star would still be destroyed and the Alliance would gain the edge they may have needed to turn the tide in this war. There were still so many reasons for hope.

"It is time for you to leave, Leia. Your mother has fulfilled her end of the deal." Mother and daughter sprung apart when Vader spoke, attracting their attention. "I will escort you personally to the ship she came in."

"I don't need your escort." Leia glared at Vader. "And don't call me Leia. You have no right to use that name."

"If you do not want any of the officers or Storm Troopers to capture you once more, you will." Leia remained silent. "You are, of course, welcome to stay aboard my ship, but I would presume that's not what you wish."

Leia remained silent, as though deciding what her best course of action would be. Padmé attempted to give a reassuring smile. "Go, Leia. Find Obi-Wan. Tell him what happened."

Leia ignored Padmé's pleas and looked at Vader, who seemed to have stiffened slightly at the mention of Obi-Wan. "What do you want my mother for? Why did you spare me?" She grabbed onto Padmé's hand. "The moment you learned about her, you stopped torturing me. You refused to answer any of my questions. You forced me to compromise the entire Rebellion for a phone call for a deal that based on everything any of us know about you would be so obviously fake–"

As Leia continued her demands, Vader raised his hands. For a moment, Padmé felt fear. The last time she had seen a similar gesture from a Force Sensitive had been nineteen years ago, right before she'd lost Anakin. Thankfully, it was just a gesture to stop, as he instead spoke. "I spent nineteen years thinking I was responsible for your deaths. I would not wish to see that happen again."

"That didn't stop you from killing my Father!" Leia's words hung in the air, and Vader stepped back, as though the accusation wounded him in some way. "Don't deny it, mother–"

"Your mother was misinformed." Though Padmé couldn't tell because of his mask, it felt as though Vader's eyes were locked directly on her, and she shivered. "I did not kill your father."

"Obi-Wan said–" She was cut off before Padmé could repeat the story she'd heard.

"Kenobi lied. Or perhaps, he could not face the truth himself." Vader continued to keep her gaze, though he didn't elaborate any further on his statement. "Princess, it is time for you to go. No harm will come to Padmé so long as I am alive to see to it."

"You still haven't answered my questions!" Leia protested.

"We do not have the time for me to answer them in a way you would find satisfactory." Vader crossed his arms, finally turning back to Leia. "I cannot hide your presence here forever, and if you would like to escape to your Rebels, you will need to go now."

Knowing she had lost, Leia hugged Padmé. "I'll come back for you. With help."

"I know." Padmé hugged her back quickly. "I love you Leia. If something happens to me, never forget that."

They let go, and Leia was taken out of the room without another word.

-x-

Vader came back into the room about an hour later, Leia no longer beside him. Padmé had taken to laying on the bed that had held Leia earlier, choosing to read one of the holo novels that were on the shelves. He stood next to her on the bed, but Padmé chose to say nothing. She didn't want to talk to Vader, let alone have anything to do with him. No matter how desperate for an answer as to why he was doing everything, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"Leia has left. She flew out on your ship, and will remain untracked." As though he realized Padmé wouldn't speak, Vader did instead. "I'm sorry to have threatened her, but once I knew you were alive, I knew it was the only way to bring you here." She remained quiet, pretending to be invested in the story to continue to ignore Vader. "I would never have hurt her. Had you chosen not to come, I would've found another way."

"Why?" Padmé asked. She put down the novel, finally giving Vader her attention. "You haven't explained anything to either of us Lord Vader. I have no reason to believe you when you say you won't hurt her. I have no reason to believe you won't hurt me now."

"Nineteen years ago, on Mustafar, you tried to stop me from heading down a dark path I could never come back from." Vader started, despite still remaining harsh due to the vocoder, his voice felt softer, as though he was trying to be gentle. She stiffened at the start of his story, wanting to deny everything he was implying. "I wouldn't listen, and I lashed out. I thought I'd killed you, Padmé. For nineteen years I thought I'd killed you and the child."

Padmé's eyes widened, and although Vader reached out for her, she scooched back, as far away from Vader as she could. "No. You can't be. He…" She shook her head, her hand resting over her mouth as she tried to process this. Anakin couldn't. He wouldn't.

Vader didn't deny, and instead let Padmé come to terms with the implication of his words on her own. It was everything she'd feared. Obi-Wan hadn't hidden that he'd fallen, she was aware that Anakin had attacked her that night, but she'd always hoped…

"Darth Vader destroyed him. I'm so sorry Padmé, Anakin is gone."

"I see you needed more time before I told you the news. I'd just hoped…" Vader's words fell to silence, and Padmé couldn't stop herself from staring. There had to be something to prove this wrong.

"Why?"

"I thought I'd lost everything." Vader sat down on the bed, but made no further move to get closer to her. "My master was all I thought I had. I did not care about what became of me, and I became nothing more than a weapon, until I started going through Leia's memories and I saw…"

"You saw me." Vader didn't react, but Padmé didn't need one to know it was the truth. She may not have been force sensitive, but the knowledge of the true identity of the monster in front of her held more answers than the Force ever would. "Ani…?" She reached her hand onto his mask, cupping where his cheek would've been without it.

"I'm sorry. I've done many things you wouldn't approve of since your death." He had, and there would be time for her to process that the atrocities he had committed were all performed by Anakin. There would be time for her to decide if she could forgive him. There would be time for him to prove that he deserved her forgiveness.

But in this moment, all she cared about was that the man who she had spent so many years mourning and fighting to avenge was alive. "I'd thought..."

"So had I." Vader bowed his head, moving away from the gentle touch he could not feel. "But now that I know that you and Leia are alive, I'll do everything in my power to keep both of you safe."

Padmé shook her head. "Anakin, I can't stay your prisoner. I have to go back." She had to make sure that Leia was safe. She had to meet with Obi-Wan and talk to him about this. She wanted to have the chance to truly meet Luke in more than a few holocalls that Obi-Wan managed to set up between her and her son.

To her surprise, he didn't protest. "For now, you'll have to. When Leia gets the Death Star plans to the Rebellion and destroys it, that's when there will be enough chaos in the system that you'll be able to escape without attracting suspicion." Padmé couldn't help but stare. "I'll give you an encrypted comm system to communicate with, just like we used to during the war."

"You'll let me go back?"

"If you stay here, then the Emperor will find you. It won't be safe," Vader said. "There is no other choice, my master must die. If I have to work with your Rebels to achieve that end, then so be it."

Surprising herself, Padmé smiled. "If that's the case, then we'd better get started."

#Heather Writes #Star Wars #Anakin Skywalker #Anakin #Padme Amidala #Padme #Leia Organa #Leia #Darth Vader #Anidala #Anidala Week 2021

39 notes · View notes

huffle-dork · 3 years

Text

Hey Trans Friends! I need some fic help! (Swapboys)

If you don’t mind mild Swapboys spoilers for a future fic and wanna help me out continue reading!

So hello! As y’all may know by now, Alt is officially a transman in Swapboys! And I’d like to have mentions of it in the stories and I’m doing my research about transitioning and the trans experience as best I can as a cis-afab. However, Swapboys isn’t a trans story nor do I want to make it all about Alt being trans because he’s not the only character! I’d love to write some things and I will research them as best as I can since I know Alt is a comfort character to a lot of yall! Here’s the thing though- I have an idea for Alt’s transition.. and I want to make sure its not offensive you know? But, I have no idea cuz I’m not trans! So that’s where you guys come in- The idea is Alt is still not fully transitioned- he hasn’t had any surgeries yet. He started taking puberty blockers pretty early in his teenaged years after he and Chase moved in with his aunts. But, he got kidnapped before he could get fully transitioned. He mostly stole T for a bit (since I imagined he was just over 18 when he was kidnapped and probably started with his aunts, so he already knew how it felt to take it and what it looked like etc.). then He stayed at some shelters for some help before leaving cuz he always felt like he didn’t deserve the kindness of strangers. But now when he does need T he tries to pay for it, but he still doesn’t have enough money for surgeries. He binds (but I imagine his chest is like a cups at best-) and is usually pretty careful. But, he’s extremely self conscious and is scared to tell the boys in this fic Im working on which is early in the story before Alt and Chase realize they’re brothers- he’s afraid they’ll think he’s a freak and weak (which we all know isn’t true! Alt just has bad self esteem). Anddd to try to keep spoilers to a minimum- the “reveal” i want to have for Alt being trans since at this point in the story it hasnt been revealed is 1) Alt realizing Chase doesn’t recognize him now because he’s been on T for a couple years now and has been changing (he figures out who Chase is before Chase figures out who Alt is) 2) a scene where Alt is working for Magnificent without being controlled and is stubbornly keeping his binder on- which leads to him being short of breath and hurting himself. Mag goes to see what’s wrong and Alt hesitates before revealing he’s binding. Mag is quiet for a second but eventually comes back with a potion- said to help Alt fully transition once and for all because no apprentice of his is going to hurt himself when there’s an easy solution- and that’s what im worried about! Is it offensive to have Alt transition fully thanks to a black magic potion from Magnificent? I see it in two ways: its wish fulfillment and maybe yall could be happy seeing Alt transition so easily- orrr it could lead to anger cuz that’s not how real life transition happens and I’m taking that experience away from a loved character, you know? Of course Alt’s problems won’t all go away- he’d still have his bad days with dysphoria even after the potion works- and the potion probably will have some magical side effects... but yeah- i’d like to do it cuz it’d get his transition done and he’d be in the body he belongs in faster! That way in the story we can have trans anecdotes in requests and short stories, you know? But in the main story it’d happen and kinda helps Alt and Mag bond cuz that’s the goal in this story- any advice you guys have would be much appreciated and id love your feedback. I’m not perfect and I’m not trans so i know there’s a lot I will never understand but I want to learn as much as I can! I know how important Alt is to my readers, and I don’t want to offend anyone if I can help it! So, thank you and thank you for reading my novel oops lol

#swapboys #lauren talks #alt anti #trans alt #trans questions #reader feedback #im very nervous about this but i gotta know- and i figured my audience is the best #people to ask!#i want to find the best way for alt to just be a character that's trans in my story #you know?#hnghhh

16 notes · View notes

bbnibini · 3 years

Text

PSISLY: An Obey Me!CYOA – sixty-five🔖

A foreboding feeling won’t disappear from your heart all throughout class. The seat beside you was empty (Satan was still busy with his investigations with Lucifer), Levi was preoccupied with too many things to be confided anything with—apparently, Asmodeus was too, as he had taken it upon himself to “salvage” Levi’s “disaster of a party”, not knowing that it was not even a real person’s birthday in the first place. Simeon seemed amused at the contrasting personalities’ exchanges, and only intervened when voices were raised and Luke started crying when a binder hit him on the head from the heat of their arguments. Mammon was with Solomon, arguing over some magic formulae that he hadn’t quite mastered yet. Beel had been sweet and thoughtful, but you had a feeling that he wasn’t acting like himself lately. In contrast, his twin didn’t seem to have any worry in the world as he slept through most of his classes.

It was…too normal? No, that’s not quite the right word for it. Rather, it felt like they’re (sans Mammon) pretending that everything was fine, and whatever they were hiding, they’d rather not tell you. Disconcerting perhaps? You did know that now wasn’t the right time to ask anything. Despite your wariness however, nothing can ever prepare you for what happened once you went back in Lamentation.

…and by you, of course it meant everyone else, including the Purgatory Hall residents and Royal Castle residents. What were they all doing here? What's with the tense atmosphere?

"Over here." Satan called your name and patted the seat beside him on the large dining table. One would mistake the gathering as something more ceremonious, but there were no food displays nor feasts or speeches to toast to—only a forlorn Beelzebub who voiced out similar concerns to his drowsy twin on the other side of the table.

It was Lord Diavolo's voice that commanded silence in the dining hall. Whatever veneer of normalcy was now shed, and you began to feel the familiar uneasiness again.

"It'll be fine." Or so had Satan told you while Lord Diavolo made opening introductions about the issue at hand. Words such as brainwashing and poisonous herb came to light, supplemented by Lucifer, Barbatos and Solomon's observations. All three admitted to being part of a secret investigation team and caused arguments from the uninformed for a while, until the Demon Prince quelled their unrest by the finality of his words…or rather, his warnings.

"This is a serious matter. Their life is in danger, and so are their family's and friends'. For the sake of their safety, if you are ever involved in the concerned incidents, I implore you to present yourself and explain your reasons."

Belphegor didn't seem amused by the implications of the Demon Prince's words, and made such dissatisfactions clear with his retort: "Are you saying one of us tried to kill them? Do you have any evidence for your baseless accusations?"

"Woah, what the fuck? Why would we ever do that?! Why would we ever harm our human?” Mammon echoed Belphegor’s offense and retorted in the same fashion.

"That's how I reacted like at first, so I did a little research of my own." Satan replied.

Lucifer sighed deeply and looked at you as if telling you not to ask any details about your lover's findings, or how he went about obtaining them. You felt your heart tighten. Just what was Satan up to while he was gone?

"A generous (read: relented to his little brother's whims) source gave me a sample of the same poison used on the tin: a banned item. Needless to say, this person knows exactly what they're doing. I'd even go far as to say that they know about their birth origins and their connection to us seven."

"Why so?"

"I'm glad you asked, Your Highness. Every one of you must have a copy of my findings on your leftmost side. If you would turn to the seventh page—"

"...?!"

A delicious herb hides endless possibilities to an imaginative spellcaster. The potency of its effects when refined properly can serve as a catalyst for the most powerful spells. However, human mages wishing to seek its power must proceed with caution, as in certain doses…

Satan held your hand very tightly as he noticed you rest your back against the seat.

You heard him say "You can do this," as you read aloud, and even repeated those comforting words as you strained your ears to listen to everyone's feedback. However much you tried to listen in though, you can only think grim thoughts.

How can you…exactly make sense of this? That what?

1. Someone is absolutely trying to kill you. They even went so far as to use brainwashing to erase your existence to your important people in the human world.

2. They are aware that you're Lilith's descendant. Which makes sense why Lord Diavolo suspected everyone in the very room you're in right now(as it is a well-guarded secret).

3. The killer used an herb lethal to humans in certain doses, but an effective enough of a spell catalyst so that they can finish off the job in case you didn't consume enough.

4. The killer used a charm spell to brainwash his victims.

5. The killer is aware that demons are resistant to certain spells.

6. Your fallen angel blood will resist succumbing to the charm spell, but it cannot counter the herb's effects. Meaning, either you succumb to the poison or you will be in so much pain as your angel blood rejects the spell casted with the herb.|

7. The killer really really wants you dead.

"Wait a moment." In your cacophony of thoughts, an unexpected voice silenced the clamorous room. However, his gold and silver eyes didn't meet with yours. Instead, his attention was on the Demon Prince.

"What is the connection of the remaining two items to this, Diavolo? I only heard about the cookie tin being poisoned."

"It makes sense since I only asked Barbatos to commission you to make the antidote. No, these two gifts aren't connected at all. Ah.

I'm sorry!" Diavolo looked at you in concern as he called your name. "I didn't mean to make you distraught!”

Diavolo's apology caused everyone else to be calmer. A wave of apologies soon followed.

"Sorry we got carried away." you heard from Belphegor's side of the table, followed by Asmo's and Beel's concerned inquiries that you reassured with hopeful (albeit forced) smiles.

You felt Satan’s hand squeeze yours, only realising how cold and sweaty your palms were when you met eyes briefly. You turned to the next person who called your name.

"I apologise for my oversight. Have you calmed down a bit?" Lucifer followed, along with Simeon's and Barbatos' own inquiries which you reassured yet again with smiles. Your other hand squeezed Luke's own, feeling it trembling like yours. Knowing you're not the only one scared with all the revelations was reassuring in an unsettling way.

The little angel’s, “I’m okay! I have to be strong for the both of us!” wasn’t very convincing with how he stumbled upon his own words, but his intent and his meaning reached you and you were thankful just for that.

"I overestimated you. I'm sorry." Said Satan who kissed your threaded hands and you shook your head.

"You're right though. I need to hear this. I have all of you, I'm not afraid."

Regret registered in his features. You heard him sigh.

"You can be afraid." He apologised again. "You have the luxury to, with everyone here worrying about you."

He did make you feel better. You find yourself laughing a bit at how obvious his words were to you now. Everyone cared for you, you couldn’t help but think. You wanted to return their kindness in some way or another, even if it meant lying to your own feelings and twisting the truth for their own peace of mind.

"This is just…a lot of things to take in. Even the thought that one of you--"

"Do you really think it's one of us?"

You shook your head.

"Because it's not. You'll see. Everything will be fine."

Was it? Will it? Everyone seems to be trying to make it seem that way, so you'd like to at least believe it for their sake.

Your name was called again, this time by the Demon Prince who was leading the flow of the conversation. The apologetic look on his face stayed even with your assurances, and he seemed hell-bent (pun not intended) to make amends with you.

“This is my own oversight, I’m sorry. I should have been more thoughtful.”

You smiled and shook your head. “I’m fine, Lord Diavolo.”

He pondered on your words for a bit, letting out an almost inaudible hum. “This wouldn’t do at all. I have offended not only you, but Belphegor and Mammon with my own baseless assumptions. I did not mean to accuse anyone, but it was clear that my words have caused both fear and offense.”

Belphegor looked like he had something to say, but Lucifer stopped him from talking prematurely. Lucifer exchanged looks with Barbatos, and the demon butler started to speak upon exchanging nods with him.

“It is most gracious of you, milord to acknowledge your lack of delicacy. There is a time and place for candour, as well as amelioration.”

“Barbatos…”

The demon butler noticed your stares and smiled gently at you. “Might I suggest an open forum? An opportunity for everyone in this very room to tell the truth for the sake of their safety? I would expect our precious human exchange student to also be truthful of their feelings, if possible.”

“Truthfulness? What a splendid suggestion.” Solomon said from the other side of the room. “Perhaps an elaboration on this truthfulness would be helpful on leading this suggestion into fruition.”

“Hm? Wouldn’t that just be similar to interrogations in mystery novels?” (Satan)

“That’s a fun way of doing it, I suppose.” (Solomon)

“Like D*tective C*nan?”

“Levi…” You shook your head repeatedly at your best friend as you noticed Lucifer’s deathly glares directed at him. Thankfully, he noticed immediately and was able to keep his fanboying in check.

“I agree.” Simeon added. “If it means it would maintain peace in this room and clear everyone’s doubts with each other, I do think it’s the best solution.”

“What do you think, Lucifer?” Solomon consulted his other “coworker”, and the eldest sibling sighed in relent. “It’s not like we have much of a choice. Leaving this room while still doubting each other wouldn’t be good for all of us, especially them.”

The first few minutes of the “open forum” had a lot of dead airs and awkward starts. Simeon encouraged a couple of unenthused demons to sit on the floor, all huddled up to each other to “promote intimacy and trust”, but all it earned him were overgrown groans and griping fitting to that of rebellious teens going through their middle school phase. A little problem with the whole huddling situation also surfaced when two unmistakably…large adult demons by the names of Beelzebub and Diavolo had exhibited visible discomfort on trying to conform with their peer’s original, cross-legged positions. Thankfully, a compromise was met and they were now seated more comfortably with their knees bundled up.

Each person who had to explain their side were made to go to the centre of the circle to “tell their own truth”, while the rest followed up with questions once they were done saying their piece.

The first to go forward was Barbatos, the original suggester. He seated calmly at the centre and started speaking once he was prompted.

“As all of you are already aware, Lucifer, Solomon and I are working closely with each other in secret to protect them. We have kept this from all of you in fear that it will only make everyone worry. I apologise for not considering all of your feelings.”

“Did you write the letter?” Satan asked and Barbatos shook his head. “No. I did not send the bouquet either. However, I confess. I was the one who sent the tin of cookies.”

!!!

Barbatos understood everyone’s apprehension and calmly continued his sentence. “Lucifer can attest for me that the cookies were not poisoned when I made it for them. He was with me when I have been baking the sweets for them and a few of our guests in the Castle.”

Lucifer confirmed Barbatos’ statements at his own turn. “They had expressed interest on the cookies before, so Barbatos included their share on the batch he had made for Diavolo’s guests that day. If he had poisoned Diavolo’s equally human guests, they would have all been dead by now.”

That makes sense. Besides, the real killer wouldn’t suggest such a disadvantageous method such as an open forum to put them on the spot.

“As for my own accounts, I was not aware of any letters or bouquets until the investigation team began our operations. I did put a note on their locker to summon them in my office. Judging from their absence, however…it must have remained to be seen.”

“Was it a blue sticky note with their name on it?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened as he turned to the Demon Prince. “How—”

“Oh, it was at my own batch of cookies for some reason.”

Lucifer sighed, realisation finally dawning on him. “Mrs. DeVille must have misunderstood my orders.”

“She’s a well-meaning woman, however misguided. I apologise on her behalf.” Barbatos bowed his head. “It is my own incompetence as her superior to have overlooked her capabilities.”

“Mrs. DeVille?”

Barbatos nodded at you. “Yes. She had been a servant at the Castle dating back to Young Master’s great grandfather. She’s one of our most loyal retainers.” There had been an apologetic look on his face as he continued to explain. “Her seniority precedes most of us in the Castle.”

“So she’s really old?”

“Belphie! You shouldn’t call a woman old!” Asmo scolded.

“But that’s what she is. OLD. Senile even. Isn’t that kind of servant just a burden to keep?”

“Belphegor.” Lucifer warned, causing the youngest to roll his eyes and mutter out a whatever under his breath in irreverence.

“The fault lies with me, and not with Mrs. DeVille. In any way, that matter has already passed. Whose turn is it in the hot seat this time?”

Asmo raised his hand, letting out a cheery “Me!” as he sat cross-legged in the centre. Contrary to the dreary atmosphere, the Avatar of Lust’s laid-back cheer offered comfort in the tense atmosphere. You briefly wondered if Asmo intended for that to happen, as the demon was rather perceptive if he wasn’t so hung up with himself.

“I mean, I didn’t write anything nor send anything, but don’t you think those sorts of romantic gestures suit me? I almost wish I were the one who sent both!”

…or so he says. Lucifer had been an effective buffer on Asmo’s foreboding tirades about love and beauty. Soon, Levi’s, Beel’s, Simeon’s and Luke’s turns came, all reiterations of the same tune of “It wasn’t me”, which freed them of any suspicions:

“You had a locker?” Was Beel’s innocent inquiry; his cluelessness a testament to your apprehension with his twin after…that. Of course, the situation has changed now, but it was too late for you to tell them—rather, it had completely slipped your mind.

Once Levi’s turn came, you both exchanged a conspiratory nod. "If I would give you any gift, I would just send it to you, not your locker." Levi shrugged. "Besides, we were always together. Sneak attacks like that aren't my thing." That was true. Any energy he'd have for scheming was better spent on his beloved strategy games.

“I didn’t send it. I was busy helping Luke out with his homework around that time, I think?” Simeon’s alibi was confirmed by the younger angel who had not only matching alibis with the angel, but also with their human companion.

“Solomon also helped us out a bit before meeting up with Asmodeus that morning.”

Solomon had a vague smile on his face as he looked over at you, noticing your stares.

“We weren’t aware of the cookies being poisoned at that point. However, Lucifer had suspicions that something wasn’t right when Barbatos made his usual reports to the human world.” He explained.

Lucifer nodded. “Right. When I saw you sharing them with everyone in Lamentation, the cookies were already compromised. It didn’t look the same as what they had been before Barbatos sent them to you.”

“So that’s why you wanted my advice on the charm spell…Mhm. I did meet with Solomon that morning after my spa appointment.” Asmo said. “Well, anyway! That’s that. Solomon, dear~ It’s your turn!”

Solomon sat himself on the centre in the same manner as everyone else and nodded. “What Luke and Asmo said were true. I was with both of them around that time. They have pretty much explained everything for me.”

“Even so, I would imagine hearing your innocence from your own lips is more reassuring than second opinions.” Barbatos said. The sorcerer smiled back. “Ah, but of course. Around that time, I was already working on the antidote for the poison your men have traced on their friends and family.”

“Ahh, I can confirm that as well. We have personally requested for his assistance.” Lucifer reassured. “Whose turn is it next?”

Satan raised his hand. Wordlessly, he sat in the centre and stated his alibi. “I did not send the bouquet, but I did give them a single carnation to cheer them up. I have noticed a tin of cookies in the locker then, but paid it no mind. I thought it was there to begin with.”

“So the cookies were sent first, then the flower? You mean to say there was no bouquet nor love letter yet when you placed your gift on their locker?”

“None to my knowledge.” Satan answered the curious Demon Prince. “Seeing as it seems like not everyone knows where the locker is located, is it correct to assume that the letter and bouquet sender is someone close to them?”

Levi vehemently shook his head once heads turned to him... “W-why would I send anything that embarrassing?!”

…then at Mammon, who jolted from his seat.

“Come to think of it, Mammon had been reaaaalllllyyyy quiet all this time. Suspicious.” Satan frowned.

The colour started leaving Mammon’s face as everyone turned their eyes at him.

His saviour, however bitter and resentful for Satan’s revelation interrupted the accusing party’s inquiries to him by speaking out of his turn. “Did you not tell Beel and I about where it was on purpose?”

You turned to Belphegor, interrupted before you can even speak.

“No. This isn’t about Beel at all. It’s about me, isn’t it? After all, deep down…you resent me, don’t you?”

“Belphie, I—”

"Me? Send anything in your locker? You didn't even tell me where it is!" The hurt in Belphie's tone made you realise how you had inadvertently hurt someone again due to your negligence. You wondered if your flustered apologies were ever heard. Then again, you'd rather for them not to. He doesn’t deserve a half-assed one at all.

The door slammed shut as the youngest left the room, and as you attempted to chase after him, Beelzebub held a hand above your shoulder and shook his head.

“He needs some time alone. He left because he didn’t have anything nice to say right now.” As he saw you shook your head, he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “He doesn’t want to hurt you.”

“But—”

“Belphie’s not mad at you,” Beel reassured you. “He’s mad at himself.”

“It completely slipped my mind. So much has happened and…”

“Ahh. He understands that deep down, but he needs some time. I’ll talk to him if you want.”

“Thanks, Beel.” You tilted your head at the taller demon as you caught him holding back on his words. “Is there anything else you need to tell me?” Beel seemed really deep in thought so you assumed he was thinking carefully on his words. However, he said no.

“It isn’t my truth to tell.” He spoke cryptically as he shook his head. “No, please forget I said anything.”

You didn’t forget. But you felt like it wasn’t the time to ask him right now so you went back to your spot. Your eyes wandered to the shut door a few times with only Satan’s reassuring gaze quelling your anxieties and doubts.

By the time you came back, it was already Lord Diavolo’s turn. You can tell that he was more cheerful than usual; perhaps to ease the sour mood that filled the room with Belphegor walking out.

"No letter or bouquet could be enough to show you how important you are to Devildom! To me! I'd like to host a parade in your honour if I could!"

...You saw a pained smile from his competent butler and close friend and you could only offer your silent condolences. Satan had to be placated with sneaky kisses to his lips when no one was looking to quell his pouting. You thought Levi had noticed, for he rolled his eyes at both of you in disgust.

After a few more discussions, your mysterious letter sender finally revealed himself…you just didn't expect the person who sent it. Mammon's face looked like he had been through hell and back as he realised the gravity of the situation as well as the weight of his actions. With a face paler than usual, he approached you and bowed his head.

"I'm sorry!"

Along with his apologies was a clumsy explanation of his reasons. You felt like it was not the time to pry any further, so you told him to come closer so you could share some whispered words for him in embrace. "Let's talk later." Everyone else seemed puzzled at your brief exchange, but after assuring everyone that you're fine, they were able to move on to the other issue at hand: the bouquet sender.

Mammon was very adamant on his insistence that he was not the original sender. Even with the investigation team's confirmations of its harmlessness, no one came forward.

"It could be any demon in RAD, couldn't it? They're quite popular among some circles…of the non-gourmet variety, mind you!" Asmo then mentioned some names that Satan helpfully collated in his notebook. Close-eyed smiles and all, he insisted to be given a detailed list of all of them for investigative purposes. Thankfully, you were able to stop him before any more names on the list were ever written.

Beelzebub approached you again after the open forum concluded. The meeting hadn’t ended yet, however. Lucifer was giving some closing remarks, explaining how the human world investigations were progressing in more detail and answering inquiries (mostly Satan’s) about its progress.

“I lied. There is something I want to tell you earlier. I’m sorry.”

Okay? You were really confused now. “What is it?”

He looked intently at you as he spoke, carrying finality in his words. “The letter may be harmless but, I feel like no one else should see it.”

“Beel, you’re starting to scare me.”

Beel didn’t seem like his usual self. It felt like something was burdening him. When he realised how he was making you feel, he seemed genuinely apologetic and even awkwardly patted your head. “I didn’t mean to do that. I…just have a really bad feeling.”

Feeling?

“A gut feeling,” he explained. “Like something bad is going to happen if someone else gets their hands on your letter. Even Mammon.”

“Why would something bad happen to the original sender? Aren’t the letter and flowers harmless?” You remembered Barbatos and the others saying so.

“Yeah. Maybe I’m just overthinking this. Sorry for worrying you,”

Beel’s instincts to these sorts of things are razor sharp. You recalled Belphie telling you that his intuition had saved him countless of times, especially when he was still working as a soldier in heaven. The very fact that it bothered him enough to tell you about it must mean that it was really bad. So despite his words, you decided to listen to him. You decided to give Barbatos the letter after the meeting: it’s better safe than sorry.

When you went back to your seat, you saw that it was currently occupied by a teasing Asmo who was poking your more-than-friends demon on his cheek. “Cheer him up, won’t you? His whole thought process is absurd! And that’s coming from ME!”

“Absurd? What’s this about, Satan?”

You saw him cover Asmo’s smirking mouth as he explained himself. “He says I’m being overdramatic.”

“About what?” Satan’s cheeks dusted a lovely pink upon your inquiry, and Asmo had this expression on his face that BEGGED you to ask. And you being an enabler, humoured him. You couldn’t help it! Satan WAS adorable right now!

“…” Satan hesitated at first, until the whisper of his words grew louder as you repeated your questions.

“I was wondering if the bouquet sender would be able to sway your heart if he ever comes forward…

S-stop laughing! This is a genuine concern, all right?!”

Pfft!

“That’s a Mammon thing to say, Satan. I didn’t expect that.”

“Oh god, you JUST had to open your mouth, didn’t you Asmo?” You saw Satan cover his red-stained face with his hands in embarrassment. Unfortunately, his red ears couldn’t be hidden so easily.

This adorable, adorable man! You wrapped your arms around him and hugged the hell out of him. He’s so cute! (A complete contrast to the profanities coming out of his mouth right now, that’s for sure.)

“Solooooomoooon~ Satan is being meannnnn~!” And the instigator of all of this had now fled the scene, able to be caught by the human he was in a pact with as he pretended to faint.

“What’s this all about?”

You laughed nervously as you saw your fellow human was stuck in the same awkward position as you. “Asmo was teasing Satan about the flower sender stealing me away from him.”

“Hahaha! That’s cute. So the Avatar of Wrath is also an Avatar of Envy?”

You saw Satan glare at the sorcerer as you were in embrace. He was like a temperamental cat—but since he was in a grumpy mood right now, you decided to hold back on the teasing. Solomon seemed to read the mood too, and aimed to placate rather than go about his usual wise cracks.

“I don’t see the problem though?” Solomon asked, unfazed.

“What do you mean by that?” Asked Satan who had now exacted his “revenge” on his brother by a pinch on his cheek. A small yelp let out from Asmo as he attempted to do the same.

His smile never wavered as he held Asmo in his arms. “Well if you think about it, didn’t you find the real flower sender already? Satan is the only flower sender that matters to you. So, I don’t see why or how a mere reveal would change your feelings for each other if that were ever to happen.”

Satan seemed surprised at Solomon’s sensible answer. “I never thought of it that way.”

The sorcerer laughed a little as he continued speaking. “Sometimes, obvious little things like that slip our minds because the person we love is so close to us. Your feelings for each other is your own truth—a truth that only the two of you can know on your own. No matter how you arrive to that truth, whether it all started with lies or misunderstandings, the love that blossomed from those lies will never be lies.”

“Is that speaking from experience, oh wise one?”

“I’ll leave that to your imagination~” Wait. What does he mean by that? You couldn’t really tell with this man, sadly. And you didn’t get to ask anymore as he had been called by Lucifer to wrap up. Your attention immediately focused on the more important things.

“More important things”= A cute, pouting Satan♡

“So you’re worried I’ll fall in love with someone else?”

“Shut up…”

“I’m happy you’re worried though. I love you, Satan♡” You sneaked a kiss on his lips, which your temperamental cat boy shyly accepted.

The investigations continued to take place in your remaining days in RAD. However, the mysterious bouquet sender never came forward. Perhaps Solomon was right. It didn’t really matter anymore if the real sender would be found. Even if he would come forward and confess his feelings to you one day, you were sure that your heart would only ever be with Satan. That realisation however, would definitely cause heartaches to anyone else. You trusted Beel’s gut and gave Barbatos the letter immediately, so when Mammon finally talked to you about his letter, he wasn’t able to see it anymore. You weren’t stupid. You knew why he sent it, but you weren’t smart enough to know how to properly reject someone. Perhaps both of you knew what was going to happen as you remained silent in your room and never initiated conversation with each other once he entered the room. It was…awkward. And suffocating. Which was weird because it was just Mammon. He was one of the demons closest to you, yet he felt so far away now. Even his gaze was equally far away. Mammon’s fingers were fumbling with a thimble he found next to your bed—a failed attempt at cross stitching that you were too stubborn to give up on. You saw him marvelling over your botchy needlework, his thumbs feeling the rough and uneven bumps of thread. “This is one ugly cat,” His half-hearted insult was welcome in the unsettling silence, rising a laugh out of you as you agreed with his opinion. “I really wanted to do something for Satan. Maybe I should have thought of something else.”

“You really like my brother, don’t you?” There was no accusation in his tone, just mere curiosity. You nodded immediately and it caused him to laugh a little. “Can’t help but notice since you’re all over each other.”

“Sorry…”

“What are ye sorry for?” He playfully ruffled your head as he smiled. “I should be the one saying sorry.

No matter my excuse, I shouldn’t have tried to steal what’s important to ya.”

“But you didn’t know—“

“Are you kidding me right now? Why the heck are you defending me, idiot human!” Despite his words, he spoke in a fond tone. When you gave him permission to embrace you, he wrapped his arms around you and sighed in relief. “It’s easy to like you if you act like this, you know? But…you don’t have to like everyone who likes you, idiiiiot.”

“Mammon…”

“Listen, the Great Me was never rejected! You simply blew your chance! I’m such a catch, you know that?”

“Yeah…”

“You’re gonna regret ever letting me go.”

“Oh, I will!”

“It’d be more convincing if you aren’t laughing!”

Well, he was laughing too. So, who really is clowning himself right now?

“You’re thinking about something realllyyyy rude right now, aren’t you?”

Gasp. “You can tell?”

“Seriously?” He sighed and pinched your cheek. “Well whatever. Listen...I think you deserve to know the truth.”

His tone had changed now; from playful to solemn. The kindness in his touch remained. “Remember that little girl in the human world I was taking care of?”

“Yeah.” So it was true? Asmo said he was joking, but…could his brothers really know what’s going on in Mammon’s private life? There was an absence of mirth in his tone, as if he was exhausted and sad—you never saw that look on Mammon before so you didn’t know how to react. You could only listen in silence.

“…that little girl is really sick right now. She needs a huge operation soon if she…” He bit his lip and continued. “...she’s too young to die. And I can’t let her…not if I can do anything about it.”

“Aren’t the witches taking care of her?”

“Yeah. But…I shoulder her financially. Can’t really do all that when I’m dead broke.” He looked almost ashamed to admit it. “So I resorted to stealin’, even if I know I shouldn’t, especially to you. I thought you would understand if I tell ya. But…a part of me still thinks this ain’t right.”

“Mammon…”

“I can’t tell the others. They’d think I’m full of shit. Haha. Well, I am.”

“Only most of the time.”

“Shaddup! Hahhh…what do you think I should do?”

What should you say? You weren’t expecting he had such profound reasons. It certainly explained his desperation. However, you weren’t financially capable enough to say in confidence that you can help. You gave him permission to sell your bouquet, but even he admitted that it would only be enough to sustain the little girl for a short amount of time. Should you tell Lucifer? Would Mammon be okay with that?

“Not really the best time to ask advice from you, huh? Not when someone’s trying to kill you and all.”

You smiled a little in his clumsy attempts to comfort you. Shaking your head, you returned his hug with a squeeze. “I’ll help you figure something out at least.”

“You would?”

“Yeah! But there’s a catch!”

Mammon laughed and pinched your cheek at your attempts for negotiation. “Okay, fine. What’s the catch?”

With a closed-eyed smile, you placed a finger on your lips as you stated your conditions. “Ruri-chan’s birthday party would be livelier with you around. Won’t you reconsider attending, oh Great One?”

[ You have unlocked new chatrooms in MEMORIA 7. ]

💌Read Part 1

💌Read Part 2

💌continue to next scenario

💌 tag request: @krussyfed, @lilliansstuff , @cupsof-tea

#psisly #hamartia series #obey me #shall we date obey me #obey me fic #interactive fiction #obey me x reader #cyoa #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #love letter #secret admirer

16 notes · View notes

wanderinginksplot · 3 years

Note

Loved your Hondo and Aurra one, can you write something with cad bane being enamored by a new bounty Hunter or something of the like?

Okay, so this ended up almost a thousand words longer than I meant it to be! Still, I hope you enjoy!

The Bounty

Bane hated Coruscant. The whole cursed planet was a city and the teeming life made the reptile in him want to get as far away as he could and just curl up in the sun. But bounty hunters - even the best ones in the galaxy - had to work sometimes, and the Triple Zero had more prime targets than any other planet.

He was walking down a side street on one of the mid-levels in search of his current bounty. Despite Todo’s fretting, he and the droid were safer here than anywhere above or below. He had to give his target credit: they knew how to hide. The level was high enough that there was no need to watch your back just so no one would stab it, but disreputable enough that someone hiding from the authorities wouldn’t stand out.

Still, Bane was in a foul mood, and it was only getting worse as he continued to be unable to find his target. After he circled the same filthy block for the fourth time, Bane let out a blistering curse.

“Are you Cad Bane?”

He whirled, hands resting on the butts of his blaster pistols as he cursed himself. How long had it been since someone had managed to sneak up on him? Too long to start making stupid mistakes now.

“Who’s askin’?” he growled, scanning the dark alleyway. His red, slit-pupiled eyes adjusted better to the gloom than those of most other species, but even he had trouble picking out the speaker until they moved.

As the shadowed form stepped closer, Bane noted with some distaste that it was a human female. Duros had invented hyperdrives and had settled all across the galaxy, but it was the humans who were the most prevalent species. Nothing in the universe was fair.

This particular human looked to be nothing special. Her hair hung in limp strands - probably due to the humidity from the steam vents several buildings away - and her clothes looked like they had seen days in levels a lot lower than this one.

“I have some information for you,” she said, her voice pleasantly low and pitched to avoid being overheard.

“I’m sure,” Bane snorted.

“It’s good information,” she assured. “Worth a credit or two?”

“Dat’s not how dis works, girlie,” he said with a menacing chuckle, drawing one of the blasters and aiming in less time than it took to breathe. “Tell me da information an’ I’ll decide what it’s worth.”

She looked frightened, but nodded. “Th- There’s another bounty hunter after your target. I was sent to warn you that the guild gave out t-two biometric fobs.”

“Who sent ya tah warn me?” Bane demanded, absolutely livid. First, he was ousted as the Fett brat's godfather, and now the guild had issued another fob for his target? Ridiculous and insulting. Maybe that's why he was pressing the human female so hard, and why he hadn't put his blaster away yet.

“I don’t know, I swear!” she answered quickly. “He just pointed you out to me, gave me some credits, and told me what to tell you. Please don’t kill me!” She fell to her knees with the plea. Her actual skragging knees.

Bane shot her a disgusted look and holstered his blaster. In a few steps, he was at her side and tugged her roughly to her feet. She was heavier than she looked, but he had no problem getting her to stand - or keeping her close, even when she had started to struggle in an effort to get away from him.

"Are ya lyin' tah me, girl?" She shook her head frantically, but he noted with a spike of deep-buried interest that she had glanced at his mouth. It wasn't uncommon for people to mix up fear and interest, especially on a lower level of Coruscant.

Bane knew he had nothing to fear from this small human. He could read her every thought in her wide eyes and the expressions on her honest face. There was no reason not to have a little fun.

He pulled her closer, so close that the brim of his hat brushed her forehead as he continued, "So ya just thought to trick some extra credits outta me?"

"Uh, Master?" Todo chirped irritatingly.

"Shut up, droid," Bane snapped irritably as her gaze slid over to the techno-service droid instead of being fixed on Bane's own red eyes. He missed their weight, their heat. "D'ya know what I do tah people who try tah trick me?"

And there it was, her gaze flirted to his mouth again and lingered, just for a moment.

"How ‘bout ya earn those credits a different way?"

Offense crossed her face. "I'm not a-"

He lunged in for a kiss before she could tell him what she wasn't.

Duros didn't put much stock in kissing as an expression of anything, but it was the best way Bane knew of getting humans in the right headspace for more… inter-species recreation.

"Master," Todo said urgently and Bane fought a sigh. He hated the droid sometimes, but it was right. He had a target to find and now, there was a deadline.

He nipped at the human's lower lip with his sharp teeth and pulled away. "I've gotta go take care-a dis. See ya around."

She blinked up at him, looking rumpled and more than a bit confused. "But-"

"Master!"

"Shut up, droid," Bane snapped. "Can't ya see I'm goin'?"

When he turned back, the female was leaving. Bane spared a single thought for her, wishing momentarily that he had gotten her name, but he had bigger things to focus on. He had to find his bounty, cause some pain to the guild member who had issued a second fob, and figure out why he couldn't feel the vibroblade in his boot.

Wait…

Bane patted himself down and found that he was missing the pouch with his credits, the vibroblade from his boot, and the tracking fob.

"Master," Todo said again. "I've been trying to tell you: that girl was stealing from you!"

Bane hissed, whipping around to fix his gaze on the female. She was just rounding the corner of a building and saw him looking her way. Rather than the fearful look she had worn through their interaction, she grinned and sent a triumphant wink his way.

"Next time, just tell me!" Bane snapped, running after her. "Now I gotta track an unknown through da planet!"

"I traced the water from her hair while you were… occupied," Todo volunteered. "I believe she came from the steam vents three blocks west."

Bane changed directions and picked up speed, Todo soaring through the air beside him giving directions. At a certain point, he slowed, “I cannot go further. The steam will short out my circuits.”

“Fine, just wait dere,” Bane ordered over his shoulder. “Dis won’t take long.”

When Bane got to the steam vents, he immediately recognized the female's silhouette standing next to a nondescript, illegally parked ship. She was facing the opposite direction, speaking into a comlink hidden under her grimy sleeve.

"Well, keep me updated," she said, clearly disappointed with the person on the other end of the line.

Bane was on her before she could lower her arm, twisting her around. However, her reflexes were better than he had expected, and she turned and kicked him away in the same moment. Still, Bane hadn’t lived this long being taken by surprise. He grabbed her shoulders as he was pushed back, and levered her along with him. In the end, his balance was caught by a wall, and his grip pulled her against him until there was not an inch of space between their bodies.

"Gimme one good reason I shouldn't blast ya to pieces right now," he snarled in her face, one blaster already drawn and pressed to her temple.

Though this was a lot less friendly than the last time they had been so close, she wore a crooked little smile. “Because I can give back everything I took?”

“Yeah? An’ how is dat gonna make up fer da fact dat ya thought it’d be smart tah steal from me?”

The smile widened and took on a saucy look. “I think I more than made up for it back there. And there’s more where that came from. But first! Credits, fob…”

She hesitated before handing over the vibroblade. “I really like the knife. Any chance I could keep it?”

“I could shoot ya right now an’ no one would blink - least of all, me,” Bane hissed.

She pouted a bit, but passed the blade back. “Now, where were we?” she purred, moving as if to slide her hands up Bane’s arms.

Bane knocked her hands away and her comlink went off. She hit the button that allowed it to transmit, and Bane was less than thrilled, “I didn’t tell ya tah answer that.”

“We’re clear,” the comlink said.

“Who’s clear-a what?” he asked suspiciously, the end of the question muffled by the human female’s lips meeting his mouth once more. He obliged her, taking control of the kiss with a hand in her hair, holstering his blaster so he could use the other to angle her jaw.

“Bane,” she moaned at the contact.

Bane broke the kiss and tried not to pant as he said, “Ya got me at a disadvantage, darlin’. Ya know my name, but I never caught yers.”

“Oche,” she told him, giving a mischievous little smirk. “And that’s not the only thing you didn’t catch, bounty hunter.”

He was already furious by the time he tried to reach for her and found his wrists caught in magnetic binders, attached to the wall behind him.

“Well, that was lovely,” Oche said chipperly. “I do wish I could stay longer. I would love to see if all the rumors about you are true.”

Her gaze drifted downward and Bane growled at her, knowing full well what she would find if she looked too closely.

“Anyway, looks like we’re both done here.”

As she began to root through his jacket, Bane glowered. “So, ya were tryin’ tah steal my bounty all along.”

“Not really,” Oche said after a thoughtful pause. “It’s more like… a partnership. You found the guy, I got the fob, and Embo got the bounty.”

Embo. Bane should have guessed that the Kyuzo would be one to steal a bounty. He had already tried to steal Bane’s signature wide-hat style. Aloud, he just said, “And when am I gonna get my share-a da payment fer this little partnership?”

“Well, your portion was done on more of a volunteer basis,” she hedged.

Before Bane could tell her how little he cared about volunteering anything, she said, “I’m taking some of your credits, the fob, and the vibroknife. I really did like it.”

As she stepped away, Oche added, “Embo said to tell you thanks for the bounty. He didn’t know if he could find them alone, but you were a big help. And don’t worry, those cuffs will come off as soon as my ship leaves the atmosphere.

With that, she scampered off, climbed into her ship, and blew him a kiss goodbye through the viewport. Bane bared his pointed teeth at her in return.

Oche was right, though: the binders fell off only minutes after her ship had risen through the air. Bane spent only a moment glaring at the sky before he walked back in the direction of his own ship, lost in thought.

Fett had Wesell, Embo had Oche, even Ohnaka had Sing. Was he the only bounty hunter left in the galaxy who still worked solo? Where was his apprentice?

“Master!” Todo cried, hovering beside the Duros’s face. “Did you find her? Did you get the target?”

“Oh, I gotta target, all right,” Bane said darkly. “An’ I’m not gonna stop ‘til I get ‘er.”

He would find Embo and Oche, he would get his money for the target he had found, and then… Bane and Oche would finish what they had started.

Whether it would be finished with blasters or something more primal, he wasn’t certain, but it would be finished either way.

#fic request #anonymous fic request #cad bane #todo 360 #bounty hunter #cad bane is easily distracted #for a bounty hunter #original female character #mentioned #embo #jango fett #zam wesell #hondo ohnaka #aurra sing #threats of violence #dubious consent #sfw though #just kissing #and death threats but whatever

20 notes · View notes

taelme · 4 years

Note

hi uhm, can i request a mini-scenario for chan (or what makes you comfortable) when his fem! S/o is very insecure about her height (4'8) just fluff and cuddly chan thx uuuu ❤️❤️❤️❤️

genre: established relationship!au (fluff, mild angst, hurt/comfort elements?)pairing/s: Chan / Fem Reader word count: 3k+ tw: none I think,, post may include potentially offensive remarks about reader’s height so if you’re not comfortable w it feel free to skip! a/n: thank you so much for the request! im a sucker for domestic aus so….I hope I did a good enough job for u n I hope you like it~~

Chan9:38am -all the best for work today!-

You couldn’t help but smile at the text, typing a quick reply to him before stopping your music, removing your earpieces with one hand as you entered your office building, feeling awfully professional in your office-wear as you tapped your card to enter into the lift lobby for the main building.

Work wasn’t anything special, you were just working a simple temp job for the time being to gain experience as you were filing out your job applications to the various companies after your graduation. Though this being said, you weren’t necessarily the most excited to go to work, hence Chan’s motivational texts every morning.

Or, ‘doing his boyfriend-ly duties’ as he liked to put it.

Gripping your cup of coffee tightly, you saw the work crowd beginning to swarm into the office’s lift lobby where you were waiting, the sudden presence of people that were considerably taller than you making you wonder if they could even see you, having been shoved all the way to the back of the lift once the lift had come, having to strain your neck so as not to let the person in front of you’s briefcase jab into your neck.

Annoyed to say the least, but trying not to let it ruin your morning, you’d heaved a sigh of relief when you heard the elevator ding, glancing at the number and recognising that it was your floor.

“Excuse me,” you said, tapping on the person in front of you, who turned in confusion only to spot you moments after, silently moving aside to allow you to exit.

Walking briskly to your table, you slumped into your seat with a sigh, earning a giggle from your co-worker sitting next to you.

“Tired already?”

 You made a face, shrugging off your coat and slinging it on the back of your chair, “good morning to you too,” you sighed.

Your co-worker snickered, her expression shifting suddenly as she tapped you quickly, making you turn to see what she was so urgently warning you about, your eyes widening as you spotted your department head. Standing up and greeting him quickly.

The department head was currently walking with another man, dressed in an all-too fashionable coat to have worked at your company, round, thick-rimmed sunglasses hanging casually from the collar of his shirt, giving you and your desk mates a small nod in greeting.

“These are my new angels, only working temporarily, though,” he turned to face you, introducing the man to you. Apparently he was working together with your company to make a promotional advert.

“We’re looking for beauties like you for one of the roles,” your department head had gestured towards your co-worker, earning a shy shake of the head from her.

“Oh no, please, I’m not very good at acting.”

“Not just you, you two can try as well,” he gestured towards your other two desk mates, “they’d wonder if we run a modelling agency instead of a brokerage company,” he laughed obnoxiously.

You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d missed you out on purpose, turning to look at your co-workers. They were all gorgeous girls, who could pull off long pencil skirts and still manage to look leggy, whereas you had to stick to skirts that ended at the knee, not wanting to look like a child in a too-big uniform.

“What about Y/N sir? She was the best at acting out of all of us back in school,” your co-worker spoke up hesitantly, noticing the way the department head had missed you out as well.

Both the men had looked at you, the man giving your department head a look as if to ask if he was joking, and you’d suddenly wished you had just made your disappointment less obvious to your co-workers.

He bent down slightly, though he still looked down at you with a sickeningly sweet smile it made you cower under his stare, “Uhh…maybe if we need someone to play the role of a kid, we’ll let you know,” his tone was dripping with sarcasm, his words lingering with you even as he strolled off with the willy-wonka looking man.

Shrugging, you sat back down at your desk, trying to ignore the way your co-workers kept glancing between themselves and you. I mean, it wasn’t their fault that they were taller than you, and in turn received favour from the male heads of the company as a result.

You dismissed the feelings of discomfort that threatened to arise in you, shaking your head as you clicked into your email.This was just a temp job, you’ll be out of here before you knew it.

But that wasn’t to say you wouldn’t face this problem in your other offices as well, what were you supposed to do, borrow your boyfriend’s ankle weights when you walked around the house? You were already wearing platforms and those were heavy enough.

“Hey, are you alright?” Your co-worker whispered, making you muster your best reassuring smile, nodding at her.

“Mmhmm, I’m fine, I swear.”

“I mean, if you think of it this way, at least you look young?” your co-worker tried to comfort you, earning a glare from your other desk mates, making you laugh.

“Yeah,” you murmured, “really young.”

===

The feeling lingered with you all day, and you were on your last meeting for the day, desperately wishing time would pass faster as you went to the lounge to prepare coffee for your colleagues.

Opening the overhead cupboard, you’d refrained from letting out a groan when you saw that someone had returned the tea to the higher shelf instead of the lower shelf ( that mind, you, was still within your reach). Leaning one hand on the counter, you stretched your other hand up as high as you could, struggling to even brush the shelf.

Giving up with a sigh, you straightened out your blouse, wondering if it would be a good idea to climb up onto the counter to get the shelf, but even if you’d wanted to do so, your skirt wouldn’t allow for that.

Spotting a pair of tongs at the side of the sink, you’d grabbed them quickly, an idea sparking in your head. Trying again, you’d reached your hand out as far as you could, even jumping to try to get it, but in your excitement, you’d only managed to push the coffee mix deeper into the cupboard.

“What are you doing? They asked me to check on you since you were taking a while.”

You turned abruptly, hitting the tongs against the cupboard with a loud clanging sound on accident, spotting your co-worker standing there with an amused look on your face.

“Trying to make coffee,” if that wasn’t obvious enough.

Huffing, you felt embarrassment flooding your senses as your co-worker walked over, reaching out her hand and grabbing the instant coffee mix with ease, setting it onto the counter with a small smile.

You were thankful for her help, of course, but at the same time it made you feel so incompetent knowing that you couldn’t accomplish a simple task like making coffee independently.

“You should put a note telling them to leave it on the counter,” your co-worker told you, making you sigh.

“That goes for everything in the cupboard, then,” you huffed, making her laugh.

“I think it’s kind of cute. Your height has a certain charm, you know? Makes people wanna take care of you,” she told you with a laugh, making you shoot her a pointed look as you mixed the coffee with a stirrer.

“Bet your boyfriend’ll think it’s cute.”

You let out a grunt. Being cute was one thing, but being independent was completely different to you. It wasn’t like you to want to inconvenience others so much just because you were ‘so cute that you couldn’t reach something on a high shelf’. But once again, you brushed it off, laughing the situation off with your co-worker.

“My boyfriend thinks everything is cute,” you joked, dismissing the topic quickly as you brought the coffee back to the meeting room with her. Thinking of Chan only made you more desperate to want to finish this meeting sooner so you could see him.

You didn’t miss the comments from your colleagues when your co-worker had confessed that you took so long because you couldn’t reach the coffee mix, your mentor giving you a look when he mentioned that it was his doing, having ‘not expected’ that it would inconvenience anyone.

You’d flipped your binder open halfway through the meeting to discreetly message Chan, asking if he had any plans after work, surprising yourself with how quickly he’d replied you.

Chan5:32pm -pay attention to ur meeting! I don’t want u getting in trouble bc of me-

You hid your smile behind your hand, nodding along with whatever your mentor was presenting as you continued.

5:32pm -I can buy takeout from the place near my office-

Chan5:33pm -u don’t have to, i can go pick u up since I ended early today!-

After which, that was all you could think about for the rest of the meeting, clearing the cups of coffee with lightning speed once the meeting ended and jogging over to your desk, bidding goodbye to your colleagues since Chan had sent you a text saying he was waiting for you downstairs.

Hugging your coat tighter to yourself, you’d felt a sense of relief once you’d spotted Chan outside your office building, leaning against one of the railings with bags of takeout in his hand, his other hand fiddling with his phone as he waited.

You’d wanted to surprise him, but he’d looked up quicker than you would’ve liked, giving you a smile as you made your way over to him, his hands stretching out in an invitation for you to hug him, which you gladly did so, his tall frame (well, compared to yours) enveloping you warmly, bending slightly to rest his chin on top of your head gently.

You closed your eyes, letting out a small sigh as you wrapped your hands around him.

He let out a small hum, “lemme guess. Bad day at work?” He pulled away to look at you, his hand smoothing your hair away from your face, feeling the cold wind brushing against your cheek as you nodded at him.

Chan smiled, “it’s okay, it’s the end of the day now. I bought the takeout already, let’s get you home, hmm?” He took your hand, leading you towards his car. You couldn’t help but feel insecure under the gazes of your colleagues that walked past you, your height difference with Chan suddenly becoming a lot more noticeable than it usually was.

You tried to ignore it, not wanting to ruin your time with Chan, but you couldn’t help the negative thoughts from rising in your head. You remembered a comment that you’d heard someone say before to a couple with a similar height difference as yourself and Chan, saying that the woman looked more like his niece than his girlfriend.

Did Chan and I look like that too?

You sat in the car waiting for Chan to start the engine, watching your co-worker walk past, letting your thoughts slip from your mouth before you could notice.

“She’s tall, isn’t she?”

Chan looked up, shrugging as he started the engine, “yeah, she’s pretty tall.”

“Yeah, pretty and tall,” you gestured, making Chan’s eyebrows raise, pulling out of the parking lot.

“What’s wrong?”

You shrugged.

“Nothing, just…wondering. Do you ever wish you dated someone like her instead? Like…she’d look really good with you…she wouldn’t look like… your niece.”

Chan let out a disgruntled sound, already beginning to sense the reason behind your sulky mood, simply shaking his head at you.

“Of course not, I’m more than happy with you.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue further, choosing to let the conversation stop at that till you got home.

Once you were at Chan’s apartment, you’d taken a shower first, stepping out into the room in your towel after you’d worn your underwear.

“Chan, I’m thinking of staying over tonight, do you know if I have anymore clothes here?”

Chan hummed, “I’m not really sure where you put them, you could just wear one of my hoodies first if you want?” He stood up, walking over to his cupboard and fishing out one of his hoodies, handing them over to you with a small kiss on the forehead, heading outside first while you changed.

Putting it on, you’d immediately felt as though you were drowning in fabric. Chan tended to get bigger hoodies because of his shoulders, so they looked even bigger when they were on you.

Stepping outside, you padded over to the living room, not expecting to hear the hum of approval that left Chan’s lips as he spotted you.

“I know this isn’t the first time you’re wearing my clothes but, I can’t stress how much I love seeing you in my hoodies.”

He stretched out a hand to pull you closer to where he say on the sofa, tugging you just a little more so you ended up on his lap, wrapping his arms around you as he nuzzled his head into your shoulder.

“I’ve been thinking about that question you asked me just now in the car,” he began, making you slightly nervous to hear what he was about to say, “and I just can’t believe you asked me that.”

“Chan, the food’s gonna get cold.”

He let out a displeased whine, “no, baby look at me,” he brought a hand up to your chin to ever so gently tilt your head to face him, leaning over to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“I like you exactly how you are, because that’s…you. You’re who I fell in love with, not anyone else. Who cares if you’re not super tall? You’re fun sized!”

You were about to retort but Chan had beat you to it, “and before you go on about how it makes you feel dependent on others, It’s alright, okay? If you don’t wanna depend on them, depend on me. I’ll gladly help you get any sort of thing from the highest shelf in the world if I can help it.”

You scrunched your nose up, shoving him away in your embarrassment, “don’t say things like that,” you rest your hands over his, feeling his thumb rub the skin on your thigh gently.

“Why not? I mean every word.”

You gave him a look, and despite what you said, you knew that what Chan did was working in reassuring you, the feeling of your heart fluttering when he’d cupped your face still so familiar even after your years of dating Chan.

Chan was an absolute angel, you were reminded again now, as he tried to cheer you up during dinner, telling you funny things that happened at his workplace and talking about anything under the sun to make you feel better.

“How’re you feeling now?” He asked after you ate, earning a shrug from you.

“Kind of drowsy, do you um…” you averted your gaze from him, not knowing why you were letting yourself get shy all of a sudden.

Chan quirked his eyebrows up, tilting his head at you curiously, “hmm?” He asked.

“Can we..like…you know,” you mumbled, and you could practically hear Chan’s smile without looking at him, feeling him pull you forward, and in you almost losing your balance, you quickly supported yourself with your shin resting on Chan’s thigh, feeling him adjust your position, pulling your other leg up so you were straddling him now, raising his eyebrows at you again to prompt you further, clearly getting a kick out of seeing you so shy.

You shook your head, leaning forward so you were hugging him, resting your chin comfortably on your shoulder, the comfort it provided you making your eyes shut. Chan instinctively wrapped his arms around you, one hand above the other as they rested comfortably on your back.

“Lemme guess, you wanna cuddle?” Chan’s voice could be heard next to your ear, his voice soft and tone gentle, though not without a hint of teasing.

You nodded, “mmhmm,” your voice was muffled from how you pressed your lips against his shoulder.

“Couch or bed?” He hummed, earning a soft mumble of ‘bed’, Chan’s hands moving to grasp your thighs, standing up and carrying you towards the direction of his room, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

Feeling him set you down on the bed, you let go so he could get in as well and make himself comfortable. Lying on his back, he’d beckoned you over, letting you resume your position of practically lying on him, your leg draped over him and your head resting on his chest, while his hand found its way to your back and your thigh, rubbing soothing patterns onto your skin.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

You felt his chest move slightly as he let out an amused huff, “what are you thanking me for, baby?”

“You..” You yawned, “take care of me so well,” you sighed, removing your head from his chest to look at him.

Your gesture made Chan smile, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Hey, can’t have my favourite girl feeling bad now, can I?,” he tilted his head at you, a soft smile at his lips.

You ignored the flush in your cheeks, shaking your head as you let your head rest back on his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart slowly lulling you to sleep, all previous worries of the day now all melding into this soft, comforting moment of calm with Chan.

You stayed there cuddling in your room, the only sound being the soft music that Chan was playing in the room, and you were about to fall asleep when you heard Chan mutter, “I love you.”

You couldn’t help the smile from your face, letting out a deep sigh as you replied, as your own affirmation as well (albeit muffled by the fabric of his hoodie)

“I love you.”

You wouldn’t ask for anything else.

275 notes · View notes

moonstruckbucky · 5 years

Text

Royal Holiday (1/6)

Summary: Bucky Barnes is bored - trust him, he knows how that sounds. But being royalty, in his humble opinion, isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Time to mix it up a bit.

Pairing: Prince!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, modern AU

Warnings: None

Notes: Here it is, my submission for @heamarvel‘s Hallmark Event! Hope you all enjoy! Feedback is appreciated. x

Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

If it’s one thing Bucky hates, it’s diplomacy. Ironic, considering he’s currently neck-deep in a manifesto his father had dropped into his lap a week ago. Ironic still, considering he’s a bloody prince. Not a prince who prances around in jewels or silks, but a prince nonetheless - a prince with responsibilities and a duty to his country when the throne eventually comes to him.

It’s a mantra he’s heard his entire life, and it’s a mantra he’d really love to stop hearing before he takes a screwdriver to his eardrums.

He knows it’s unfair, knows he’s got it better than most, and he respects that - kind of. While he wants for nothing, he feels trapped, imprisoned by duty, regality, and nobility. Bowing under the weight of his future, the eventuality that he’ll be a king. He’ll need to command and rule and say goodbye to his freedom - however much of it he has.

He’s already damn tired of it.

And that’s why his unofficial-official bodyguard Sam finds him open-mouthed and snoring behind his desk in his office. The older man isn’t surprised by it really. Having been with the Royal Family for close to ten years now, he knows Bucky’s mannerisms, habits, quirks, and annoyances better than most, and while he wishes Bucky would grow up a little, he isn’t quite so strict as his Queen Mother over his behavior.

Sam purses his lips, rolls his eyes a bit, before he creeps to the desk. Reaches for the massive manifesto that sits open in front of Bucky, snaps it closed, the dark-skinned man’s gaze flits between the two for a few moments.

A little humming under his breath, he lifts the binder over his head above the desk, lets it drop with a loud slam that wakes Bucky with a jolt and a girlish yelp. He flies backwards and his weight shifting tips the chair. Trinkets and knick-knacks rattle as he and the chair hit the floor. Sam waits patiently, tipping a snowglobe on the shelf beside him, while Bucky splutters and curses him out.

“The hell was that for, Wilson?” he grouses, rubbing the back of his head where it hit the floor.

“Your mother is requesting you,” Sam responds with a pointed look, setting the snowglobe down.

Bucky feels himself scowl before he can stop it. He loves his mother, he does, but he knows what she’s going to speak to him about - it’s the same thing she always wants to talk to him about.

“Do I have to?” He knows he sounds like a petulant child, he knows, but if he’s honest, he’d rather play Baby Shark on repeat for the rest of his life than listen to his mother prattle on and on about how it’s time for him to find a wife. A suitable one, one of noble birth. One who’s proper and polite and graceful.

Bucky wants something different.

He admits he hasn’t thought much about marrying (clearly) or even falling in love, but as he gets older, grows closer to becoming a king and taking on more responsibility, the prospect of finding someone to share that with occasionally crosses his mind. He has no doubt his mother would find someone who’ll make him happy, but the idea of having his bride chosen for him, the risk of being trapped in a forced marriage, doesn’t sit well with him at all.

Sam gives him an exasperated look. Nodding sagely, he sighs and straightens his shirt, slightly wrinkled thanks to Sam. Following the older man out, he prepares himself for the conversation he’s heard a thousand times before.

She’s relentless, he decides, and he finally figures out where his stubbornness came from. She’s organizing a gala in his honor, a presentation of him as an eligible bachelor, and she’s taken the liberty of inviting every eligible heiress, princess, and everyone in between in a massive effort to get him to connect with someone.

She’s frustrated with him when he voices as much, voice growing higher with her irritation. “James Buchanan, it is your responsibility to marry. You’re nearly thirty, and you’ve yet to choose a wife! You’re not getting any younger and should you choose not to marry, your reign will be forfeited!”

Ah yes, the little wrench in the system. A decision made by the country’s parliament as a failsafe in case Bucky clutched his bachelor lifestyle to the vest. Clearly they hadn’t had much fail in him to marry and rule successfully, and a small part of him wants to shove their faces in it.

But only if it’s on his terms.

“Sounds like a dream to me,” he mutters back, just loud enough for his mother to hear him. She screeches, kind of like a hawk - or a banshee - and Bucky feels a little bad. But only a little. Gesticulating wildly, he exclaims, “What? Would it really be so bad if we just gave the crown to parliament? I’m sure Pierce would be happy to take it. After all, can’t have a thirty-year-old playboy bachelor ruling alone, can we? Bad for his family’s image, isn’t it?”

She opens her mouth to retort, offense written clearly on her face, but Bucky sweeps from the office before she can utter another word. Sam is waiting for him outside the door, and he straightens, tries to act like he hadn’t been eavesdropping on the loud exchange.

“Let’s go Sam,” Bucky orders, “I need to get out of here for a while.”

Sam doesn’t hesitate - he calls for a car and fetches Bucky’s winter coat. “Yes, sir.”

You resist the urge to slam the phone down into the cradle, opting instead to gently place it back where it belongs. But you do give it the middle finger as you scribble out the order you’d gotten halfway through before the customer decided she didn’t want to spend fifty dollars plus delivery on a floral arrangement.

Tossing the paper in the trash, you walk around the counter to straighten out the displays of vases, each holding stems of various flowers. Casting a glance out the window, you sigh at the people who walk right by your shop, despite the inviting fairy lights, the floral displays and boxwood trees in the windows, and soft Christmas music playing from the speaker system.

It’s a month until Christmas, and your orders are down - again. You’re not sure why, but there’s been a steady decline in sales for the past six months. Dejectedly, you chalk it up to people losing interest in sending flowers to people, with the exception of funeral arrangements if only because people die every day. In New York, it’s unheard of that people can’t afford flowers - most can. They just don’t send them. The classic gesture is being swept under the rug in favor of material things - new electronics, vacations, jewelry.

It saddens your heart to think it, but it’s true, and if sales don’t pick up, you’ll be forced to sell the building you left everything behind to buy. Tail tucked between your legs, you’ll plant yourself behind a desk for the next foreseeable future, working overtime to pay off the expenses from the flower shop.

Misty-eyed, you sniffle and clean the stamens from the stems of stargazer lilies. A little unusual to carry them this time of year, but they’d been a special request from someone who’d never showed to pick them up. Usually it’s easy to lose yourself in the pretty colors and scents of flowers, but now, you can’t even be bothered to make new arrangements for fear they’ll go to waste - then it’s more money down the drain.

Instead, you clean the shop from top to bottom, rearrange the displays, open the door despite the chilling air and display a boxwood tree - handmade - out in front. A couple slow in front of the shop, eyeing the boxwood tree. The woman smiles, pointing happily to it, remarks about bringing it for Christmas dinner.

To your joy, the husband agrees and they step inside to order one with red and gold decorations. It’s a steep sale - $100 plus tax - but it’s not quite enough to cover your rent for the month just yet. A few more boxwood tree sales and you’ll be covered. Surprisingly, you catch the woman taking a photo of the boxwood tree outside as the husband places the order.

“I’m going to send this to Sue! I’m sure she’ll love one for her house!”

You smile gratefully, hoping like hell this Sue woman indeed places the order with you. The couple waves pleasantly, offering their names - Jack and Michaela - and then they take their leave. A few more people trickle in, place orders for both Christmas and for Thanksgiving centerpieces, and you take a couple of phone calls - one to actually order, one for general information. It turns into a fairly successful afternoon, and as you get ready to close, you feel a little hope blooming in your chest.

Hope that you might not lose your dream.

Outside on the busy streets, Bucky is blown away. He’d insisted on getting far, far away from the royal house despite Sam’s initial reluctance. Bucky was a prince, a known prince, and both paparazzi and people could be unpredictable. Not to mention, he’s sure there would be people willing to hurt Bucky, ransom him or something to make money off his family - okay, Sam knows that particular scenario might be a stretch, but it’s what he’d been trained for.

Bucky’s like a kid in a candy store, weaving in and out of the crowd, ducking into this store and that, experiencing regular city life like he never got to. It had always been schedules and propriety and rigidness that he’s relishing a bit in the freedom to just be. He buys Sam a new winter coat, one that blends in a bit better with the public, and he settles on a peacoat, scarf, and paperboy hat for himself. He feels...normal, and on the street, no one recognizes him.

As he strolls down the sidewalk in the fading light, he catches a glimpse of fairy lights across the street. A woman stands outside the door, beige coat and burgundy hat in place. When Bucky crosses the street, he realizes she’s staring at the building, which he now notes is a florist shop. There’s a longing in her gaze, a shininess that suggests she might be on the verge of tears.

There’s a pull deep inside him, compelling him towards her. It’s like she’s pulled him into her orbit, and Bucky doesn’t think he’s ever had this kind of reaction to a woman before. He doesn’t even know her and yet he desperately wants to, needs to know her. He’s entranced by the look on her face, an expression of sheer yearning paired with sadness trapped within it. He wants to kiss it away, and his reaction should startle him.

But it doesn’t. It only forces that tug to pull harder, and he takes a few steps forward. Before Bucky can approach her, he’s swept up in a crowd and loses sight of her. When he steps out of the throng, he searches for the woman, but she’s gone.

Chapter Two

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #prince!bucky barnes #prince!bucky x you #prince!bucky x reader #modern royalty au #heamarvel hallmark event

711 notes · View notes

mysteryofren · 4 years

Text

You will never forget

part 10 of So Happy Together

part 9

The rest of the week went by slow. There was a lot of crying. A lot of late nights with the group. A lot of Elaine coming home to you crying. It felt like a stab to the guy every time you saw him. Your friends knew this, so they decided to start eating lunch out on the lawn to reduce the risk of you all having to see him. You felt bad. Ben was Matt's brother, and even though he assured you he didn’t wanna see him either. You couldn't help, but feel guilty. You wish you could switch classes to avoid having to see him every morning, but you didn't want to go that far. It was finally Friday, and on your way out of calculus Professor Windu had stopped you.

“I'm concerned. Your grades have never been this low.” he said handing you all your work from the week.

“Im sorry sir, but a B is still passing.” you immediately regretted saying that.

He sighed before going to close the door. “Yes. a B is still passing, but not for you. For as long as I can remember I've always striven for nothing less than an A. Now you're scoring low B’s, and I even heard from other teachers that you skipped the other day. What's going on?”

“It's personal.” you flipped through the papers. Looking at all the grades. Sure enough you had gotten an 80-85 on all of them.

“Listen. Your grandfather and I are friends. I know he wouldn't be happy with me if i saw something was going on with you and didn't reach out to see if you were alright.”

You stayed staring at the papers. He walked over and grabbed them. He tossed them in the trash and opened his draw digging out new sheets.

“I remember being a teenager. I remember how hard it was, but i've gotten to know you well these past few years, and i know you are strong.“ he handed the new worksheets over to you.

“I know everyone goes through things. I understand if you don't exactly feel like talking to some old guy about it, but i know you're smart. I know you can do better. Redo do them over the weekend. Ill ignore the first ones and put the new ones in the grade book.”

You put the sheets in your binder. “Thank you sir. I appreciate your concern. I'll get these done.”

“You're a good kid. You'll get through whatever you're going through, and you'll come out of it stronger.”

You walked out of his class, smiling. The perk of having your grandfather, was that he was well loved. That meant no matter where you went in town someone was always looking out for you. Lunch came quick and the day was already better than previous ones. You greeted your friends on the lawn and sat. you all talked about things you loved doing, and even started planning a day to go out together. You had felt so much better than you had been lately. You took out the instax camera and started taking pictures of your friends. You and Matt were talking when Phasma had picked up the camera and taken a picture of you both. You asked her to take another where you both were posing. He wrapped one arm around you and gave a weird thumbs up with an open smile while you laughed. just then you heard someone clear their throat behind you guys.

“I'm gonna need the car this weekend.” Ben said looking at Matt. He slid his arm off of you and looked at him.

“No way! We were planning on hanging out this weekend and I was gonna drive us!” he said motioning to the group. You noticed the death glares that Hux and Phas were giving Ben.

“Well i'm taking Rey out.” he looked over at you. You tried to hide the hurt you felt but failed miserably. “I'm sure you can find another way to get to where you're going.”

He walked off. The little bit of progress you had made was tossed out the window when he said that. He had ignored you to date Rey. She had everything she wanted. Why did she need him too? You felt tears starting to build up again. When you felt a mass of weight hit you. Everyone had gotten up to hug you.

“Trust me, had I known he was dating Rey I would've said something!!”

“It’s okay,” you said, trying to even your breathing, ”it's not your fault.”

“Don't worry we're gonna have an awesome day tomorrow. You'll have so much fun you'll forget all about him.” Phasma said, pulling away.

“Just imagine me trying to skate. The image itself is hilarious, imagine watching me do it.” Hux had said. You laughed as everyone went back to their spots. You all continued planning, as you tried pushing thoughts of Ben to the back of your head. You tried not to imagine him and Rey together. You tried not to see him kissing her the way he kissed you. You were failing miserably.

Later that day you and Matt presented your projects. You had received an A, and Matt wanted to celebrate. You agreed to go out to get ice cream with him. Before you left you needed to go get changed. While changing Elaine walked in.

“Hey whatcha getting dressed for?” she asked as she put her soccer bag down.

“Matt wants to get ice cream to celebrate us getting an A on our project.” you informed her while getting your shoes on.

“Cool, can i come?”

“Yeah I don't see why not.”

“Cool ill meet you guys there! I gotta shower and change.”

You walked out of your dorm and met up with Matt outside. You guys walked over to the small town like area by the campus. You guys talked about your day, and talked about tomorrow.

“By the way did you see phasmas text in the chat about it being 80’s night?”

“Yeah dude im so excited i already have my outfit picked out! It's gonna be so much fun”

“Me too luckily my glasses already fit the era well.” he said while pointing at his glasses.

“Have you ever been skating before?”

“Once when we were kids Kylo taught me and Ben how to do it, oddly he was like a skating pro.”

“What's Kylo like? I mean i know you, and ya know ben sort of, but I don't hear much about him.”

He pulled out his phone, and showed you a bunch of pictures of kylo and him. He looked more like Ben than Matt did. In fact. You could even say he's hotter than Ben. he had long dark hair, with a wide nose just like Ben, and Matt. in every photo he showed you he had a serious look on his face. Like he was upset about something constantly. He also had a large scar that went from his cheek, over his eye, and into his forehead.

“He looks mean, but deep down Kylos really is a great guy. He's studying to be a lawyer at harvard. It's his last year.”

“You sound really close to him.”

“Im close to both of them, but kylo has always talked to me no matter what. Ben has always seen me as the dorky little brother he doesnt wanna be seen with. We're still close though.”

You both arrived at the plaza where the ice cream shop was. It was a long walk, but it had been worth it. You guys made your way inside and sat down waiting for Elaine. You both talked and joked around when she finally got there. You saw the way he looked at her. He had it bad for her. He looked at her like she was what made the world spin around. He loved her. Too bad she really was super focused on school. They would make a cute couple. They Are totally opposite, but the same at the same time. He was tall and always trying to make himself smaller. Meanwhile she was short, but she walked and talked like she was 6’6 with two guns. She had such dark and elegant features. Dark skin, with long curly pitch black hair that made her green eyes appear as if they were glowing. Her face was perfectly chiseled. She looked angelic. It was completely opposite of the blonde headed, pale man sat by her.

“Matt, it's good to see you again, i can't wait to go out with you guys tomorrow.”

“I didn't know you were coming.” he said, hugging her.

“Phasma invited me today, it's gonna be awesome, I love 80’s night.”

“We should add her to the group chat so she's updated on all our bullshit.” you said as you pulled out your phone to add her. You unlocked it and saw you had a message. It was from ben. Elaine and Matt walked to the counter to order when you read the message.

‘So you're hanging out with my brother now? Don't use him to get to me. It's not fair to him.’

What the hell was wrong with him. You knew Matt before you knew Ben, you just never hung out with him before. Even then it was him who reached out first. He had a lot of fucking nerve.

‘That's pretty bold of you to assume that I care that much. Your brother and I have been friend’s a while now, not that it's any of your business. Besides you have Rey. You don't need to worry about what i'm doing.’

Just then they had come back, Elaine holding your regular order. She handed it to you, and you must've looked mad.

“Uh oh. We were gone for like 3 minutes. What happened?” her and Matt sat in front of you. You held up your phone showing them the text.

“Oh what an asshole. No offense Matt.” Elaine said.

“None taken, that's an asshole move. The response is perfect though.”

“Yeah you killed it with that. Put the bitch in his place.”

Matt held his ice cream in the middle of you all and smiled. “To putting bitches in their place.”

“TO PUTTING BITCHES IN THEIR PLACE!!” you all yelled as you bumped your hands into each other careful not to have your ice cream cones touch.

You all laughed and looked around at all the people who stared at you for what you had just said. For some reason you didn't care, you laughed and ate your ice cream. You stopped for a moment. Taking in what you were seeing. You took out the instax camera that you now carry all the time. As your friends laughed you took a photo. You wanted to remember this moment. This was one of the good times. You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. You ignored it as you ate your ice cream and talked. Soon you guys decided to leave luckily Elaine had driven herself here so you didn't have to walk back. You let Matt sit up front so he could be closer to her. You watched them closely. It was clear she was interested in him too.. You knew her though. She genuinely was focused on school work.

“Hey I got a switch in my room, you guys wanna come play mario kart or something?”

Elaine had pulled into the school parking lot. “Hell yeah dude, Y/N you coming?”

“Nah, I gotta redo my calculus work since Windu was nice enough to give me a second chance at it.” you all got out of the car and she locked her car, and took Matts arm.

“Guess it's just you and me Solo.” she said as she led him off. You watched as Matt fumbled over his words as they walked off.

You got to your dorm, and unlocked the door. You automatically put some upbeat music, and got started on the calculus work. You danced around as you figured out the problems, still high off the fact that you told Ben off. You may be heartbroken, but you'd be damned if he accused you of pretending to be Matt's friend. That reminded you he had messaged you back earlier. You decided to check what he had said.

‘Just. stay away.’

You scoffed. Who the fuck did he think he was? Did he really expect you to just stop being friends with Matt because of him? You threw the phone on your bed and continued to do your work. Soon enough you were done with it. You would be able to give it to him Monday morning. You put the worksheets back in your binder and packed a bag. You planned on going to your grandfathers after your night out with the group. While folding your clothes up you thought you heard a knock. You paused your music and heard it again. It couldn't have been Elaine. She had a key. You walked slowly towards the door to look outside the peephole when you heard someone yell from the other side.

“I know you're in there. You can't pretend like you're not.” it was Ben's voice. What the hell was he doing?

“So what you're gonna ignore me now? Huh?”

“If I remember correctly you were the one ignoring me.” you yelled through the door. “I'm just returning the favor asshole.”

“Stay the hell away from my brother. I've got enough going on. I don't need you around making things harder.”

“Fuck off Solo. he's my friend. You were too.” you said trying not to cry.

“You're delusional if you thought what we had was a friendship.” you heard him slam his fist against your door then storm off. Without thinking you walked out and yelled down the hall.

“You can deny the fact that we were friends, but you can't deny the fact that you kissed me. Twice Solo! Twice! That's something you will never forget! Not as long as i'm around!” tears streamed down your face as he walked off ignoring you. People were walking out of their dorms to see what was happening. They stared at you as you walked back into your dorm. That man was going to be the death of you.

#ben solo fanfiction #bensoloxreader #ben solo x reader #ben solo #teen!ben solo #star wars fanfiction #star wars tfa #star wars #star wars au #star wars tros #star wars x reader #teen!reader #reader insert #matt the radar technician

16 notes · View notes

minnuet-archive · 4 years

Text

I’m Sorry, Logan

Rating: PG-13

Trigger Warnings: Alcoholism, suicide, abusive family, homophobia (let me know if there are any more i missed!)

Word Count: 3,754

Fan-fiction or Original Work? Original Work

Story Type: Short Story

Notes: I wrote this a while back for a book that was going to be made, but didn’t end up happening. It was about suicide awareness and the different reasons for it. There was to be informative writing about the topic and cause and then a short story. This is the short story. Also, I spent a solid hour or two revamping and editing this for you all today since I couldn’t post much about my soon to be posted book. I hope you enjoy!

I wake up to my alarm blaring in my ears. My eyelids refuse to lift, the world a blurry mess. I stumble into my uniform, the alarm still blaring. Eventually, my patience runs out and I shut off the alarm. I snatch my backpack out from the corner of my room before hastily grabbing a granola bar and running to the bus parked outside.

I jump into the bus and walk down the aisle, all of the noise, ranging from random conversation to yelling and fighting, filling my ears and overwhelming my mind. I almost want to put my hands to my ears and drown out the noise, but someone’s bound to take offense. As I sit down in a seat next to the seemingly quietest kids, the horrible stench of what are probably 10-year-old raisins with a generous side of sweaty gym socks permeates my nose. I hate the bus. I decide to try spacing out.

Arriving at school, I go into the girl’s bathroom and wait until everyone leaves. I look really weird waiting for people to leave, and I don’t care. Actually, that’s not true. I definitely care.

Once everyone’s gone, I slip out of my catholic school skirt and into far more comfortable slacks. My mother had refused to get me anything but the “girl’s” uniform which consisted of a tight, long skirt and a blouse.

I hear the bell and run to class, bursting into the classroom and sliding into my seat directly after my name is called.

“Late.” I groan and get out my homework. Why does it have to be me?

Vanessa and her friends snicker across the classroom. “Hey look, the plant’s here.”

My ears burned and I clenched my teeth. Those obnoxious jerks. I’m not a plant. “My name’s E-” My eyes widen as I catch myself. “-Ellie.”

Vanessa gasps dramatically and then says, “It can talk?!”

I don’t respond and give her what she wants, but it takes all of my strength not to. God, how am I so stupid? I don’t care if I’m using the Lord’s name in vain. I already let them know I was asexual! And if I let it slip? “My name’s Elliott.” I can only imagine the crap they’d do and say to me. What would I tell them? “Oh yeah, by the way, I’m nonbinary.” That would totally work.

I take deep breaths. I look at the teacher and then to the board, and suddenly, zoning becomes much easier. The lunch bell rings after a while and I walk towards the courtyard, finding one of the trees in the corner that no one ever sat by. It’s sad and droopy. I wish I couldn’t relate.

“Hey, Elliott!” I flinch at the noise. He smiles and sits down next to me.

I relax and say, “Hey, Logan. How was the class?”

“Class was crappy,” I crack a smile and when I do, he adds “as always. I love how you did your hair today. It’s pretty.”

My mouth goes dry and I fidget with my hands, forcing myself to smile. I shove my (sadly, homemade) peanut butter jelly sandwich into my mouth and then spend a ridiculous amount of time trying to swallow enough of it to even be able to chew.

We talk and smile, though he does most of the talking, and I force myself to listen, because he always has great things to say.

The lunch bell ringing is jarring and sudden enough to make me jump, but that isn’t saying much. I grin at Logan. “ I’ll see you tomorrow, man. Bye!”

He high fives me and starts walking towards his classroom. I walk towards mine. After Mr. Simon takes role call and I raise my hand and answer a question once, I figure I’m safe and promptly space out for the rest of the day.

The bell rings and right as I’m about to walk out of the door, I heard Mr. Simon say, “Eleanor, may I speak to you?” A collective ‘oooh’ sound comes from what’s remaining of the class, suggesting I’m in trouble, as I walk up to his desk.

“Can I help you, Mr. Simon?”

“Do you remember the dress code guidelines we went over at the beginning of the year?”

I start to panic. “Uh, yeah.”

“Then you remember that girls are to wear skirts and a blouse and that boys are to wear a button down and slacks.”

I mutter that I might remember something like that. “Why can’t I wear pants? I’m not wearing anything completely out of school uniform.”

“Yes, but we have a strict dress code and you, as a girl,” I flinch at the word girl. Of course, I can’t correct him. “are to wear a skirt. If you come to school tomorrow wearing pants, I’ll have you change back into a skirt, confiscate the pants, and then call your parents.”

I nod my head as if I understand, which I don’t, and then walk out of the classroom. I know he hates me, but I had no clue he would go to these lengths to get me in trouble. What the hell kind of person would go to the lengths of confiscating pants? None of my other teachers cared! He’s just an asshole!

I really don’t want to wear a skirt and that was only the first time I wore pants. On the other hand, I don’t want them to get taken away because I had to save up for months to get them and I really want to avoid having to deal with my parents.

As I walk home, I approach the entrance to the Golden Gate Bridge and smile. It’s so beautiful. Late afternoon fog is quite unusual this time of year and most people don’t like it, but I’m secretly happy about it.

I love walking along the bridge in the morning because it’s so easy to clear my mind. The wind can make my hair clothes flap wildly in the wind which is annoying, but the feeling of the cold wind can be comforting. The smell of saltwater in the air fills my nose as I approach one end of the bridge. I start to cross the bridge, right into the fog. It’s peaceful and the moist air feels cool and nice against my skin.

After around 45 minutes, I come out on the other side of the bridge.

As I walk, I fantasize about laying down on the couch and not worrying about homework. Not because I finished it, but because I’m planning on procrastinating.

I turn down my street and see my house. As I approach it, I realize that my house has been egged. I see a note on the door and run up and grab it. Get out of here, fag. You don’t belong here.

Vanessa, her boyfriend, and their horrible friends were right about the last part. I don’t belong here. I wish I could leave, but it isn’t exactly possible. I rip up the note and look up at the eggs that are covering my home.

I don’t want to clean this up… but my parents will ask why it happened if I don’t. Plus, they’ll make me do it anyway. I sigh as I trudge inside to grab a mop and some other cleaning supplies.

Opening the closet door, I grab everything I think I might need, which is a lot. I’ve never cleaned up eggs, so I’m just guessing.

I turn back to trudge outside again and start to wipe the door with a random rag that I found. Once I finish cleaning everything that I can reach from the ground, I place all my supplies on the roof overhang, awkwardly climbing onto it.

I get on my knees shakily and start to clean the roof. Damn, can these kids throw. It takes what seems like years, but is probably just a couple hours to finish cleaning the house.

Taking a risk, I jump from the overhang. I didn’t break any bones! Yay! I grab all of the cleaning supplies and shove them back into the closet as I walk to my room. I get changed into some paint-stained jeans and a band t-shirt that my parents begrudgingly bought me for Christmas.

I walk back out and throw myself on the couch. I log into the only social media my parents let me have and open a chat with one of my best friends, AchillesIsTheTrueGayIcon, also known as Bentley (or Ben). Sometimes I call him Benjamin just to annoy him.

Me: What’s up, Benjamin?

He responds almost immediately.

Ben: Asshole. But not much. You?

Me: You want to know who the real assholes are? The jerks from school who egged my house.

Ben: Oof. That sucks, dude.

Ben: Hey I gtg do homework. Talk later?

Me: Sure.

I turn off my phone and put it down. I hear my mom pull up so I sit up and take out my school binder. I place my homework from yesterday in front of me so I look like I’ve been doing homework since the second I got home.

As soon as I finish setting up my fake homework station, she walks in. “Hey, mom!” No. Too cheery. Calm down.

She smiles happily, “Hi, Ellie!” I cringe at my old name. At least she didn’t notice my overly excited greeting. “How was your day?” My little sister, Adia follows her in and then runs to our room.

I consider telling her that my day hasn’t been great, but decide against it. There are only two outcomes. The first is that she wouldn’t care and tell me to suck it up. The second is that it would just invoke a flurry of questions. Neither sounds particularly fun. “It was good. Yours?”

“It was fine. Busy as always,” I give her a knowing nod and then I see her smile slowly fade. “You didn’t make yourself dinner, did you?”

“No, not yet.” I smile sheepishly and she sighs loudly in annoyance.

“Alright. Dinner will be ready soon.”

I roll my eyes and she scoffs as she walks into the kitchen, tossing her bags onto a chair at the table. I hear Adia’s footsteps approaching before I see her jump onto the couch beside me.

“Hi, Adia. Did you have fun at daycare today?”

”Yeah! I played with Sammy!”

“That’s fun.” She smiles proudly as if having a friend is something to be proud of, which in my case, is true, but in her case, not so much. She has a lot of friends.

“I got to see all mommy’s friends, too! They’re so nice!”

I’m contemplating how untrue that is when I hear my mom start to reheat leftovers from last night. She tosses all of the food on three plates the same way she did her bag.

Wow. Soon really did mean soon.

My mom presses the power button on the remote and we pretend to watch a sitcom as we shovel food into our faces. Eventually, the episode ends. Too lazy to change the channel, we leave it alone and ignore it.

My mom is seated facing the screen and I watch her chuckle. I turn to the screen and freeze. It's a pride parade. All of a sudden I hear Adia’s excited voice.

“Ooooh! Rainbows!” I look at her and smile a little bit. She doesn’t even know. Sometimes I wish I don’t know what LGBTQ+ means. But that’s not really true.

“Those rainbows are for gay people.” She says gay in disgust as if it’s the worst thing you can be.

Mom continues, “You don’t want to be gay. Being gay is bad. You’ll go to hell if you’re gay.”

Now she just looked confused. “Why is it bad?”

“Because a man is supposed to marry a woman. That’s how God created us.” Mom says.

I finish eating my food as fast as I can to escape this horrible conversation and then interrupt. “Can I be excused? I’m getting tired.”

Before my mom can respond, my father swings open the front door.

This time, it’s not just me who’s frozen. He’s holding a beer bottle. His tie is loose. The top button of his shirt is unbuttoned and it’s stained.

What makes it most obvious that it’s happened again is his eyes. They’re huge. And not in the caring way.

He smiles goofily and stares at Adia and I. “No hug? No ‘Hi daddy!’ or ‘Thanks for working your ASS off every day to provide for us’?”

My first instinct is to pull Adia closer to me and step one foot in front of her, which I follow through on. My second instinct is to throw something at him so we can all run.

I hold back. Mom’s too close to dad. She would never be able to run away in time. He could hit her. Hurt her. Even kill her, if he wanted to. She’s not a good person, but she doesn’t deserve that.

“Go. To your rooms. Now.” I turn to my mom in utter surprise.

“But mom-“

“Now.” Her voice is sharp and cold, but filled with fear. The most confusing part is that I know the fear isn’t for herself. It’s for us.

I grab Adia and make sure she’s safe and locked in her room before running to mine. I press my ear against the door because I might be able to get an idea of what’s happening. I can’t hear anything.

I slump down and hang my head in my hands. Holy mother of God. What is wrong with my family? Why doesn’t she just kick him out when he’s hungover? Why don’t we leave?

I can't deal with this.

I'm sobbing now. I clench my teeth to trap the noise in my mouth.

Over the course of a few minutes, I draw myself up onto my knees and stand up, walking over to sit down at my desk. I start to scribble words that seem right on a paper. After a minute of writing, I reread it. It's not good enough. I crumple up the piece of paper and throw it in the trash.

I hug my knees tightly, trying not to make any form of sound. My breathing slows to its normal pace as I continue to sit there and I grab another piece of paper. I start to write once again, this time neater.

In the morning, I wake up the same way as yesterday. I put on my pants and even throw on a t-shirt instead of a blouse. I don’t care if Mr. Simon tries to force me to wear a skirt. I’m not taking anyone’s crap on my last day of school.

As I look in the cracked medicine cabinet mirror, all I can think of is my hair. I chew on the inside of my cheek for a minute while I go over all my options. I finally tug open the drawer and grip my father’s razor in my hand. There are lots of those weird plastic protectors that I think make sure you don’t accidentally shave off all your hair. I choose the one labeled number 4 at random and push it onto the top of the razor.

My heart starts to beat faster as I push it gently against my scalp, running it down my head in different places until my entire head is buzz cut. For the first time, I feel alive.

I peek out of the crack in the door and watch my mom walk into the kitchen. I run to my room, grabbing my backpack and binder.

I do this again and again until I’m out of the door.

I step into the bus, a huge grin slapped on my face. The other kids stare and I don’t even pay any attention to them. For the first time, I don’t care. I hear a kid yell “Get off, queer!” and I resist flipping him off… well, I try to resist flipping him off.

Taking my time, I walk into the classroom and sit next to Logan. He stares at me, dumbfounded. “What the hell did you do?” he whispers.

“I buzz cut my hair. I don’t even care anymore. I’ll deal with the consequences,”

Not.

“I just needed to do it,” I finish.

His face is contorted into a mixture of dumbfoundedness and horror as he slowly shakes his head. “Yeah. Alright. Tell me if you need anything, I guess.” He can’t stop staring at me and I honestly find it kind of funny.

A kid walks up to me sitting at what is most likely his desk.

“You’re sitting in my seat.”

“Yeah. I know. My seat’s over there. Feel free to take it.” He looks as if he’s about to say something more, but he turns to walk towards my actual seat.

Logan looks at me. I wonder if he knows something off. That taking some other kid’s seat isn’t something I’d normally do.

If he notices, he doesn’t mention it. “Anyways, how was your day yesterday?” He laughs and then adds, “Holy crap. That was such a mom question.”

I snort and answer, “Oh my god, you’re right. But it was good. I’m tired as hell, though.”

“No kidding.” I grin at him as the teacher looks at us again. I don’t really pay attention in math. I just talk to Logan. It’s relaxing to not have to care. To not have to worry about the consequences of my actions.

When we walk to lunch, I start complaining to Logan about how much of the day we have left.

“Uh, you know that we have an early day, right?”

“Oh! I do now.” He chuckles and smiles. I feel my cheeks warm up slightly at his smile. It’s a beautiful one. He starts to talk about some fandom of his and I try my hardest to pay attention.

I don’t really know what triggers this, although I have an idea, but I realize something. I’ve never kissed someone. Okay, this needs to change. I feel weird thinking about it, but I know exactly who I want to be my first and last kiss.

He’s about to start another thought, but I interrupt him. I don’t care. “You’re amazing.”

He looks at me as if I said the strangest thing he’s ever heard. “I mean it. You’re always there for me and you talk to me about things we like. I feel I don’t thank you enough for that.”

He still looks confused and a bit weirded out but he just smiles calmly. “Right back at you,” he responds as he fidgets with his hands and looks down at his shoes. I gesture for him to continue and, without hesitation, he does.

Logan sighs and packs up his lunch as the bell rings.

“Hey, will you walk home with me? I know you normally hang out here for a while but I want to talk to you.” I know this is a risk.

Just like before, he doesn’t say anything, but now I’m sure that we both know something’s wrong. “Yeah, of course.”

We grab our stuff and we start walking. He starts walking faster and gets ahead. This is not acceptable.

I break into a full sprint and he starts to chase me. My breath is short and raspy as I laugh all the air out of my lungs with him. When we reach the bridge, we’re both out of breath. We start panting like dogs on a hot day as we bend over and try to distribute our body weight evenly.

I stand up straight again and look at him. His face is glowing and his brown eyes are big and happy. He runs his hand through his slicked-back (with both gel and sweat) hair and adjusts his glasses. What a dork.

I know this is the moment. I move closer to him and press my lips against his own, my own brain not having a say in it.

The salty air blows through my hair and I feel on top of the world. After a couple of seconds, I step away. He looks confused. He wasn't okay with it. Oh, God. What have I done? I'm about to keep running down the bridge when he hugs me.

This time, I'm the unprepared one. After a minute, he lets go and slides his hand into mine. We continue to walk across the bridge. There's nothing we need to say and it feels amazing.

We don't have to explain ourselves. We can just walk quietly together. And it's not awkward.

My happiness fades away as I realize this is the first and last time I’ll be able to do this. I couldn’t change my mind if I wanted to. I already taped the note to his backpack when we left school.

Today was the best day of my life, but the rest of my life will be a living hell if I go back home right now. Today was a good day. One in a million.

This has to be the last time. Nothing good can last forever. Nothing can last forever.

We reach the other side. “Goodbye, Logan.”

He laughs. “You say it like this is the last time I’ll ever see you. I’m going to see you tomorrow.”

I feel my heart shatter a little bit more than it already had but I cover it up with a soft smile. “Yeah. It’s just goodbye for now.” He leans in and kisses my cheek and then twirls around like a ballerina. I choke back a sad laugh.

He starts to walk towards his house, but I just turn towards the water.

Tears spill silently down my face. I put my hand over my mouth to muffle my sobs. I want to run to Logan and scream his name, but I can’t. This has to be done alone.

I lift one foot onto the railing and then the other. This is it.

One last tear slips down my face as I whisper raspily, “I’m sorry, Logan.” I know it will be peaceful. A quiet ending. Not that I deserve one, but I guess it’s a favor to myself. I let go of the pole that I had been holding onto.

And then I’m falling.

Falling.

Gone.

Tagging: @sunandshinee @writingamongthecoloredroses @ettawritesnstudies @rhycantspell @just-perhaps @etddivine @antisocialdragonenby @crabsthinkfishfly @holdup-pause @gaydemiboy

#tw suicide #suicide awareness #tw acoholism #tw alcohol #tw abuse #tw abusive family #tw homophobia #verbose #vioaeon #writing #mine

10 notes · View notes

welcometophu · 4 years

Text

Into the Split: Home 2

Twinned Book 3: Into the Split

Home 2

[ Previous | First | Next ]

Nikolai and Seth spend Sunday night on the floor of Rory and Alaric’s room. Alaric stays with Chris, and Rory stays with Kit, so they have a weird measure of privacy that lasts until Nikita realizes they’re there. She spends most of the evening with them, and once she hears they hope they might be leaving, she helps them to collect and print as many photos of their time in this world as possible.

Monday morning they have texts from Pawel, sent long before they woke, telling them to come home for breakfast and to talk to Chelsea.

She’s waiting as soon as they walk in the door. She greets them by sliding in close, one hand on Seth’s chest that she yanks back when he flinches. “I won’t hurt you,” she protests. “I can’t, now. I don’t want to feed on you. I promise. I had eggs for breakfast.”

“No offense, but since the last time you touched me you were feeding, I think I’d rather just—” Seth cuts off, making a shooing motion.

“Understood.” Chelsea backs away, hands behind her back and head tilted slightly down. Long curly hair falls in her face, hiding rosy cheeks. She looks healthy and very, very alive. Unlike Mattie, the shadows don’t seem to cling to her; she looks wholly human, even though Nikolai knows she isn’t. “And I’m sorry. I was starving. Which doesn’t make it right, but might make it understandable.”

“I understand and I still don’t like it,” Seth says curtly.

“I have bagels.” Pawel moves between them, one hand on Chelsea’s shoulder to nudged her even further from Seth and Nikolai. “Bagels, cream cheese, smoked salmon, eggs. I’m guessing no one thought to feed you.”

Nikolai raises both eyebrows. “Now that you’re not stressing, you’re becoming a mother hen?”

“I’m a single dad. I’ve always been like that,” Pawel says as he ushers them into the kitchen. “I was distracted. And when I stop sleeping—”

“He’s always been like that, too,” Chelsea says with a small smile. “When we were freshmen, he pulled two all-nighters in a row because of a report he’d put off until the end of the semester. Somewhere around the thirty-sixth hour, he stopped eating. His roommate realized that if we put something next to him, he’d try to eat it. He had a lot of interesting ideas of things to try. Luckily Pawel isn’t allergic to anything.”

“Do you remember the time since—” Seth cuts off as Chelsea’s expression clouds and she takes another step further from them. “That’s a yes. I can feel it.”

“I remember everything,” she says softly. “Some things better than others. But yes. I know what it feels like to suck a person’s soul out, to feel the moment that they take their last breath. I will never be able to forget that. I think Mattie both regrets and misses it. I just regret it, so damned much. I am thankful that I didn’t hurt anyone I loved.”

“It isn’t unusual for an Emergent Shadowwalker to devour their family,” Pawel murmurs. “We may have been very lucky.”

“I couldn’t,” Chelsea says. “I ran.” She moves into the kitchen, standing on the far side, away from the table as she gives them space. She crosses her arms, hunching around herself. “I know how to take you home, Nikolai and Seth. It doesn’t work the same as it did, but I know how to reach it.”

Nikolai takes the plate Pawel hands him, sitting when Pawel motions at the table. Once he and Seth are seated, Pawel pulls out the fourth chair. Chelsea approaches it slowly, takes it cautiously and sits as well.

Nikolai ignores her as best he can, and eats.

“Tell them what you told me this morning,” Pawel directs.

“I spent the night going in and out of the Dreamscape,” she says slowly. She folds her hands on the table, fingers entwined, thumbs pressing down. “The Split is no longer a danger that I could see. If it still exists as a darkness, it is somewhere else in the Dreamscape, not near our worlds. It is… healed. It is a place for normal Shadowwalkers to slip into it, between the worlds as we were always supposed to travel. It feels light and fluid, and I spent the night practicing going between this world and the others that I could reach. I think I can take you with me.” She looks at them, her eyes wide. “I couldn’t get into it until you helped me. The soulless ones are kept out.”

“That’s good news.” Nikolai can’t assume that the Shadows are simply gone from his world. He doesn’t think it can be that simple. But it means there won’t be more, and if others Emerge, they should be more like Chelsea and Mattie, not what they were. They have a chance.

“What about the other—” Seth grips his fork so tightly that his fingers are white. Nikolai feels the worry coming from him, uncontrolled and almost angry.

“The third world is there.” She smiles slightly. “I found it.” She whispers it like a secret, a soft laugh at the end. “It will heal, I think, and there are people there. I might go there, someday, to see how they are. To see if we can help. But I don’t know if I can.” She glances at Pawel. “I can feel that I have ties here, right now. I need to take you soon, and I don’t think I can be gone long. I need to figure out how I fit into this world now, and why I feel like I do.”

Seth lowers the fork. “So what you’re saying is, we go now, or not at all.”

Chelsea blinks. “You can finish breakfast.”

Nikolai holds back a snort of laughter. After all this time waiting, and suddenly they’re supposed to hurry up to get it over with. “I don’t think we really want to delay all that much.”

Something knocks into his foot under the table, and when he glances over, Seth is looking at him.

Nikolai isn’t lying. He wants to go home. He wants to get back to Mikhail and Josef, and the new family he’s found in Havenhill. He wants to settle in to his house and his future with Seth, and he wants to figure out how he fits in there. He wants to create his space, and move forward without feeling like there’s something still holding on to him.

Seth places his hand on the table, palm up, and Nikolai takes it.

But at the same time, he’s been in this world for three weeks. They’ve met dozens of people, and made new friends. Out of all of them, the only ones he can be certain he’ll see again are Nikita and Del. Possibly some of the other Dreamwalkers, but now that everything is done, he can’t be sure of that. He’ll try to reach out to Brett in his own world, see if he can help their community, even though it’s so far away. But they have ways of reaching each other, once he’s back.

The people of this world will be gone. Once they leave, that’s it. They will never come back.

It’s always been so easy to think about going home.

It’s strangely hard to think about leaving here.

“Oh,” Nikolai says under his breath, as he sets down the remainder of his bagel.

“Go pack,” Pawel says. “Finish breakfast in a bit, when your appetite returns. You focus on packing, and I’ll get in touch with people and ask them to come over. Is there anyone in particular—”

“Everyone.” As soon as Nikolai says it, he knows it isn’t possible. It’s a Monday. They have classes. Some of them aren’t even here, like Del. Some of them he doesn’t really know, and some of them he’s closer to. But he’s afraid that if he starts naming names, he’s going to forget someone important.

“We spent a lot of time with Carolyn, Nikita, and Heather yesterday, but we should say goodbye,” Seth says, his fingers tightening on Nikolai’s. “It would be nice to see as many of them as possible, but if they can’t get here, we understand.”

Nikolai thinks that maybe he’d started to resign himself to staying here. That he’d thought he’d live in the spare room of Pawel’s house for good, at least until they could figure out how to exist here in actuality. It seems surreal to have to say goodbye.

Packing doesn’t take long. They have the album, and all the new photos that Nikita helped them with the night before. They have enough clothes to fill a large duffel that Pawel brings into their room, rather than a few outfits each in their packs. He also brings them another bag with some books, along with a binder containing the printed research Valentine sent for Val. The books are a little dusty and definitely used, but Nikolai appreciates every gesture. He only hopes they are able to carry it all through the Dreamscape and Split into their home.

“If I can go, the rest can go,” Seth tells him, nudging against his shoulder. “We didn’t come through naked.”

“The clothes we’re wearing and the six bags of luggage we’re carrying are very different things,” Nikolai mutters. “This is magic, not logic. Dreams are never logical.”

“But they are usually either nightmares or wish fulfillment, and right now, this has to be the latter,” Seth says firmly. “We’re going home. The nightmare is ending, right?”

Right. That has to be the answer.

People drift through over the course of the next several hours. Pawel stays at the house; Nikolai wonders if he’s supposed to be somewhere else, but he’s not going to tell him to leave. Alaric drops off a bag with skeins of yarn, and instructions to give them to Alia when they reach Havenhill.

Trish brings a bottle of whiskey. “As a homecoming gift for whoever you think needs it most,” she says. Nikolai resolves to save it for when Josef and Amaranth finally get married; he’s sure that’s coming. It’ll be good for celebration. He also takes the tool bag she hands him, filled with electrical tape, duct tape, and other useful consumables. He’s sure it’ll be appreciated.

Nate brings a takeout box filled with scones and muffins, while Dax carries a plastic box of homemade cookies. When he cracks it open, the rich scent of peanut butter and chocolate invades the room. He closes it again and sets it into the duffel with a small smile.

“According to my mom, someone’s been craving those,” Dax says. “Not a clue who, so it’s up to you to distribute them.”

Cass doesn’t bring a gift, but she does surprise Nikolai by stalking up to him and staring at him, head cocked and ponytail swinging before she throws her arms around him and hugs him hard. He slowly puts his hands on her back, holding on as she whispers, “Do not get eaten by a Shadow. Apparently people would miss you if you do.”

He has no idea how he made this impression on Cass, but she moves from him to Seth, whispering something in his ear as well before she finally steps away. Her chin lifts and her eyes shine with unshed tears as she tucks her hand into Dax’s before they head out.

Mac arrives with Nikita and Heather in tow. “Carolyn is with Kit, Serina, and Rory,” she says. “Something they couldn’t get out of; I don’t know what. But we wanted to be here when you go.”

“You’ve got the album, right?” Nikita reaches for Nikolai’s backpack, and he shows it to her before he shoulders it. “You aren’t going to forget us.”

“I really don’t think we could forget this if we tried,” Seth points out. “It’s been the weirdest adventure of a lifetime.”

“But it’ll feel like a dream someday,” Nikita says softly. “Maybe even more for you than for me and Nikolai. We’ll probably see each other again, but in ten or twenty years, you’ll be like did that really happen when you think of us. And you’ll know it did, because the Shadowwalkers are gone, or at least, things are hopefully getting better there. But it’ll seem kind of soft and in the distance.”

“She’s not wrong.” Mac’s voice is gentle, her smile wry. “But that’s true of anything. My entire life before the Emergence seems like a far away dream sometimes, and that was only eleven years ago. Not even half my life.”

Nikolai thinks back on his own world before the Split, and how distant those memories feel. Seth nudges him, and Nikolai nods. “I know what you mean,” he agrees. “It might seem far away, but we won’t forget.”

There’s a soft knock on the door. Chelsea lifts a hand in quiet greeting as she enters. “Are you ready?”

They have overfilled backpacks, a huge duffel, and one more bag Pawel gave them for packing the extras. It may not actually be six bags of luggage, but it is unwieldy. None of it is light and easy to carry anymore; it feels more like moving day than moving on. He considers asking Chelsea to carry something, but she stands with her arms wrapped around her center, looking uncertain, and he realizes that she probably won’t even leave the Dreamscape with them. He manages to get the duffel lifted after he puts on his backpack, and leaves the other two bags for Seth. “I think we’re ready,” he agrees.

“I am going to take these guys and get far enough away that we don’t have to worry about being swept in your wake,” Mac says. She motions to shoo Nikita and Heather out of the room, and as they pass Pawel, she grips his shoulder. “You, too. We don’t want you leaving again.”

“Go into the kitchen. I’ll be down in a bit,” Pawel agrees. “You’re right, it’s wisest to make some distance. I think everyone who falls on the Dreamwalker and Traveler axis has the potential together swept up sometimes.”

It’s almost intimate to watch Pawel and Chelsea say goodbye. There are no pronouncements of love, but it’s still sweet and emotional as he holds her and kisses the top of her head. “Be safe,” he says.

“I have to haunt you,” she whispers, patting his chest as she steps away. “Don’t worry, Pawel. I’ll be back. We have unfinished business.”

It seems like a strange way to refer to leaving a lover, but they seem satisfied enough with the words that Pawel can leave the room without looking back.

Seth is wearing his backpack and has the other bag over his shoulder. He grabs Nikolai’s hand and holds on tight; Nikolai clings back, unwilling to leave him behind. “How do we do this and make sure that I go into the Dreamscape?” Seth asks.

“We’ll travel through the healed Split,” Chelsea says. She holds out her hands, and they have to shuffle their bags so they can grasp her as she steps backwards, taking them with her.

It happens quickly this time. One step they’re in the spare bedroom, and the next they stand on the path where it diverges into three. The breath between steps seemed instant and forever all at once, and Nikolai thinks he’s glad he didn’t have to witness the actual trip this time.

Seth exhales roughly. “Okay, I’m here. I’m actually here.”

They both are, and they still have all of their gear. It’s working so far.

Chelsea lets go of them both, stepping away and circling behind them so that they have to move toward one of the paths. She points to the one Nikolai knows leads home. “I’ll walk with you as far as I can,” she says. “But when it comes to crossing, that’s where you belong. The Dreamscape knows. All you have to do is be close enough to wake up.”

“Wait.” Nikolai pauses because he needs to look at the third path. The two leading to his own and Nikita’s worlds look the same, but the other is brighter than he remembers. Light filters down through the leaves, and they no longer hang low enough to block the pathway. Along the forest floor, small dots of greenery have sprung up, as if the path regrows. “I think it’s healing.”

“Do you want me to check on it for you?” Chelsea asks.

Nikolai doesn’t bring up all the problems that suggestion creates. How would she tell him? Can she go there safely or does she need to go back to Pawel? He’s not certain how her Talent works, and she seems different than Mattie. He suspects that no one really knows right now.

Still, he’s curious, and Chelsea had already brought it up earlier as well, so he nods. “Yes. I’d like that. It’d be good to know if it didn’t die completely.” In some ways, the idea of saving a world that was almost gone—the idea that they may have brought it back to life—feels even bigger than having saved their own. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

They set out walking, moving as briskly as they can with their heavy baggage. Chelsea moves behind them, almost skipping, and periodically branching out to look off the path and delve into the foliage. It reminds Nikolai of Del, with her cheer and enthusiasm the further they go.

They reach the tree more quickly than he expects, and far more easily. Nikolai can feel the draw of his own world here, trying to pull him back.

Chelsea’s expression sobers. “Hold on to him, Seth,” she murmurs, as she crowds in close to Nikolai.

Seth’s hands rest on his waist as he presses close from behind. Chelsea frames Nikolai’s face with her hands, draws him down so she can gently press her lips to his forehead. “Wake up,” she whispers.

And he does.

[ Previous | First | Next ]

Want to support me? – Patreon | Ko-Fi | Reblog & Comment

#welcome to phu #welcometophu #into the split #phu twinned #twinned #its home

3 notes · View notes

elizabeth-234 · 4 years

Text

The Supplejack

Previous Chapter Fourteen: Encounters of the Third Kind

Hi friends! Thank you for waiting for this one! I knew where the story was going but was having trouble executing it so hopefully this longish chapter will make up for it. Hope you enjoy!

Thank you to everyone who has read this story in any capacity! I appreciate you all so much.

Chapter Fifteen: He Returns

“On the count of three.”

Everyone plunged their hands together, stacked on each other and shaking as the energy moved through them. It was almost visibly pulsing between them and feeding off of the crowds waiting beyond the curtain in front of them.

“One.”

Frank eyes moved between the five of them as he bounced side to side, bumping into Julia each time. He looked like he was born to wear a suit. Maybe it was Peter who was aware of the uncomfortable clothes framing his body.

“Two.”

Monica’s hand not in the circle was gripping the notecards they’d spent days making and hours going over. Highlights and red annotations covered crammed space on the small paper. Her hair was in some type of bun today and Peter thought she looked regal, very adult-like in her black pantsuit.

“Three.”

Julia’s hand was at the bottom of their stack below Peter’s. Stored in her backpack was a bursting-at-the-seams binder filled with their notes from all the months of their work. The past week Julia met up with him at the library. They went through and organized all of paperwork in case Monica needed some obscure reference.

She held his gaze as they finished their countdown. A small smile rose under her steeled eyes.

“Team!”

Their hands ascended.

Cheers erupted.

The stage taunted them from where they stood in the wings.

Frank grinned while Julia narrowed her eyes. Monica whipped up her notecards, beginning to go through them again, and Peter squeezed his eyes shut.

A tech alerted them it was their time to present. Monica hugged them all one last time and walked on stage. The rest of them peered around the curtain trying to get a glimpse of their teammate while she presented. Her words were loud and clear, and Peter’s eyes strayed to the captive audience, overlooking all the heads and searching for one in particular. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to find the certain person amongst the crowd or not.

Julia nudged his side and his attention shifted back to Monica.

Peter winded through the crowd trying to spot Frank, the tallest of their group, over the heads of everyone milling about the room.

He tried not to think about how strange it was being in the Tower again. How he knew down the hallway through the first door there on the left was a broom cupboard where Mr. Stark showed him a stash of snacks. ‘Easy access on the way to meetings’ the man had said. He withheld the urge to find an empty room so he could talk to Friday, afraid he might end up like those employees yelling to empty rooms with no hopes of an answer. His stomach turned at the thought that their friendship was contingent on his internship.

People were gathered in groups waiting for the news and he ignored his racing heart. Peter fiddled with his tie. He loosened it and attempted to straighten it only to shorten the front material. It was crumpled by the time he was done ‘fixing’ it.

The presentation was over and his internship would be done with the announcement at the end.

Monica was a queen. She gave the presentation, nailed the question and answer portion by redirecting their inquiries and concerns with a smile and no hesitation. They ran to her once she exited the stage and held her arms until she got to a chair, which she promptly melted into it. Monica smiled, drained but happy, as they showered her in praise. Her hand covered her mouth as she muffled her giggles like a child.

“I can’t believe we did it. That was… amazing.” She giggled and relaxed back into the chair.

“You freaking nailed it, Mon. Like seriously amazing stuff.” Frank said.

They walked back to the waiting room and sat together on the couch, pressed side-by-side as they watched the other groups representatives present on the monitor stacked in the corner of the room. Flash popped his head in after his group went and then they were sent into the crowd to mingle with different companies and ‘influential’ people in attendance.

His team took to this portion of the day with gold stars. Even Julia got in there and got the card of a small start-up asking her to email them when she graduated.

It felt like the whole state of New York was there. All of them dressed in tailored suits and dresses, their posh hair and clinking glasses catching Peter’s attention with every turn. He observed these groups as he continued on his search. People laughed imbibed from the courage generously poured into the glasses.

He wasn’t oblivious enough to say no one wanted to talk to him. That would be false, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t worth their time. A tall woman with dark hair had asked for his resume assuming he was older than a freshman. He didn’t even know how to fill out a check and she wanted to know his work experience. With a polite nod, Peter took her card and walked away. He ended up finding Flash digging into the buffet, who he followed around until Flash joined up with his own team.

Peter couldn’t correct the tightness in his necktie no matter how much his fingers played with the material. His rented tux drooped around his shoulders but was too short in the pants. At least he was wearing his trusty Converse. Once May got over her initial tears at seeing her baby dressed so nice she had zeroed in on the offensive footwear. Her objections were minimal at his insistence and she gave in noticing the tightness in his jaw. In the end she shrugged her shoulders and said most people would be looking at his face and not his footwear. Peter didn’t stop blushing until they were on the subway into the city.

“Hey Peter.” Julia called and his teammates closed the gap between them, carving a space between the other groups of people.

“We’ve got it in the bag, don’t you think?” Frank said, eyeing the plate filled with small appetizers in Julia’s hands. She saw his wandering gaze and moved her plate over so it was further away from him.

“Of course, we will.” She said. “Get your own food.” She added but extended the plate over at the puppy eyes and pout Frank was shooting towards her. He snatched up the miniature hotdog and moaned while he chewed.

“I don’t know how you can eat at a time like this.” Julia said. Peter watched as he snuck another hotdog off Julia’s plate when she bent over to say something to Monica. He winked at Peter.

“Dude, this is so good. All vegan it says and I won’t be eating anything like this in the college dorms.”

Julia asked if he’d been assigned his roommate and he began to tell them how he’d matched right away with a cello-playing, Hawaiian shirt-wearing Political science major.

Monica moved to the side, stepping out of their circle. Peter stared at the back of her head not believing who was standing beside her.

“Is that…?”

“Yep,” Julia stepped closer. “Estee came right up to us when we first got out here and they haven’t stopped talking yet. It’s kind of cute if she didn’t work for the devil.”  

“Julia!” He said but couldn’t help but agree.

Frank chuckled and she just shrugged. Peter looked over at his teammate and their ex-tour guide. They were standing close. Monica reached over and touched Estee’s shoulder. Her hand lingered and a pink blush stole across his teammate’s cheeks when the other girl said something he couldn’t hear. Estee also wore a pantsuit but hers was a bit softer looking than the girl she was standing next to. Maybe it was her hair that was down. He tried to compare the features on each outfit but gave up after remembering May’s comment about his abysmal fashion sense. Either way the pair looked great together.

He couldn’t stop the churning in his stomach when he thought of who she worked for.

Julia informed them all that Lee already came around and wished them luck before seeing to the other teams. Clipboard in hand she ran down the list of people they should talk to, people they needed to talk to, and people to avoid before whizzing away to do the same for everyone else.

Frank kept stealing Julia’s food when her gaze started to drift to the stage situated in the front of the room. Its imposing mass was difficult to keep Peter’s eyes from darting there. His laughter and outrageous comments about the people around them distracted everyone from their growing nerves.

The team continued to talk and joke but Frank’s laughter was a little too loud. Monica kept muttering mistakes in her presentation to herself and whoever was next to her, to which Estee would retort, and Julia didn’t touch a single morsel on her plate.

Peter couldn’t stop straightening his tie. His fingers rose of their own accord running down the ridges and tracing the pattern as he watched them all pretend to be fine.

Surrounded by all these fancy people and the onset of memories from the building, his internship, Peter’s thoughts kept returning to Ben.

When he decided to make The Weaver.

Where this all started.

His uncle’s hands were callused and cracked around his nails and palms. They were ‘man’s hands’ he would say to Peter. Peter remembered rubbing sand between his own hands in hopes they would be more like his uncle’s.

Memories of running clouded his thoughts.

His feet raced down the path to their home. One hand grasped at his nose, the slits in his fingers allowing the blood to drip down onto his shirt, and the other clutched his reward. A rock leapt out and sent him sprawling. The dirt ground into his hands and knees, leaving stains on his pants. Peter shuddered but climbed to his feet. The trek home was silent and void of any other kids.

He ran passed May who yelled his name once she got a look at the state he was in, and sat, eyes vacantly staring at the evidence left by the scraps of his fall. Grass and tinges of blood seeped through the knee of his pant. His fist remained closed. The metal pinched the skin of his palm but he couldn’t let go. Not yet.

The door creaked open and his uncle’s head popped through. He observed Peter from behind the wood, left, and came back carrying some tissue, band aids, and antiseptic. Ben knelt in front of Peter with a mumble about old knees and back pain.

Peter stared down at his fist.

“Peter? Are you okay?”

He nodded avoiding his uncle’s stare. A pulsing ache emanated from behind his nose and come tomorrow he would have another shameful trophy from the day. This one would be a bruise from where the kid had hit him.

Ben had taught him how to throw a punch when he went into middle school. ‘It’s good to know,’ he had said with a wink. It wasn’t something he ever thought he would need. He wished he hadn’t.

“What happened?”

He swallowed and uncurled his fingers to reveal what was hidden inside.

Ben picked up the metal object. He wiped off the dirt around the edges and shined the surface against his shirt before inspecting the lettering decals in his school colors on the front.

“What was the word?” Ben said examining the pin’s inscription closer to his face. He handed Peter an icepack and tissue for his nose which had stopped bleeding and waited for an answer. The shirt he was wearing was beyond help so he pressed the tissue into the crust forming on his chin and mouth.

“Indomitable.” He muttered under the tissue. Ben tapped his leg and Peter straightened it out keeping a wince from his face. His uncle seemed to know anyway and gave a squeeze to his calf.

“Remind me? How is it spelled?” Ben rolled up his pant legs and began disinfecting the cuts from his fall.

“I spelled it right.” Peter said.

“I know. I see your medal. I’m guessing those other kids weren’t very happy with your indomitable spelling skills?” Ben said with a smile.

“Ben.” Peter said dragging out the syllable until the band aids were in place on his knee. His uncle smiled but his eyes focused on the swelling in Peter’s face and a frown took over his expression again. He moved to sit next to Peter. They both rested their backs against the bed and stared at the clothes laying on Peter’s furniture and floor.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there today. I wished I’d seen it when you spelled it correctly. Let me see, I think it goes: I-N-D-A-”

“That’s not right!” Peter said turning to grab Ben’s arm.

“Oh, and how is it spelled?”

Peter realized what Ben was trying to do. There was a twinkle in his eye but Peter promised himself earlier when all his classmates had laughed at him he wouldn’t do it again and not even for his uncle.

“I, um, I forgot.” He said.

Ben covered Peter’s hand. Heat spread up his neck and across his cheeks.

“When is the next round?” Peter shook his head. He wasn’t going and placing himself in that position again.

Surrounded.

On the ground.

Weak.

Like he always ended up no matter how hard he tried to avoid it.

“I-N-D-O-M-A or is it I? If only there was a spelling bee winner to help me out.”

“Ben. I don’t want too.”

“You’re right. I think I’ve been spelling it wrong this whole time. I think It’s I-M-D-”

“Alright, alright.” Peter said and proceeded to spell the word out as he had on the stage hours before.

Ben clapped as Peter said the last letter.

“So when can I see you next.”

The sleeve of his jumper became fascinating between the alternative of answering his question. The original draw of the spelling bee had begun with the need for approval. He had this image of May and Ben sitting in the stands, watching as, for once, he could win at something. Much to his uncle’s chagrin, sports were not something Peter were good at. At the best of times he could manage to keep the injuries to himself and not the other players. Ben had patched him up when he came home with bruises and cuts but said maybe Peter should try something else. He noticed his uncle’s eyes roaming to his old varsity jacket he had given Peter in hopes he could add his patches to it.

While he felt like an unwanted guest in his body, unable to coordinate it enough to catch a football or swing a racket, Peter knew his mind better than the back of his hand. Equations, school, and books were what he was good at.

That was okay most of the time. But he felt an ineffable tug in his abdomen every time he saw the varsity jacket handing behind the door in his room.

His stomach gave that same tug sitting there besides his uncle, the man he looked up to on how to be a good person, on what a good man was supposed to be.

“I don’t think I want to do it anymore. I mean I’ll be in high school next year and you know I have a… difficult time with people. I just- well I think I’m too shy.” Peter said resting his head against the bed behind him.

Ben turned to face him. He took the tissue from Peter’s hand and wiped the crusted blood under his nose away, careful of the swelling.

“It’s okay to be shy Peter. There is nothing wrong with that. In fact, it can be a good attribute. I just want you to remember that you can’t let that, or anything, stop you from doing something you want to do. Courage and bravery aren’t the absence of fear, Peter. They are acting in spite of fear because you know it’s right course of action.”

Peter stared at his uncle, feeling his fingers brush through his hair before resting on his shoulder. Something in his face must have influenced his Uncle for Ben pulled him in for a hug. Peter froze at the unfamiliar sensation and then melted into his uncle. His strong arms enveloped Peter. His words spoke true for that moment. Peter was safe.

Someone laughed and he was back in the Tower surrounded by his waiting team.

A hand landed on his shoulder from behind and his heart stuttered an uneven rhythm.

“Congrats everyone!” May said coming around Peter to join the circle. Her hand was too small but for a moment, lost in the memories, it had felt so much like his uncle’s. What he wouldn’t give for Ben to be here today.

An echo of “thank you” went around the circle and May greeted everyone with one of her famous hugs.

“I’ve heard a rumor there’s going to be fireworks or something at the end of this. What a way to celebrate your victory, right?” May said with sparkling eyes.

“We don’t know we won.” Peter responded but the rest of the team replied with enthusiasm.

“It’s certainly a showstopper. Nothing around here is done halfway” Monica said.

“I expect not. Speaking of showstoppers when is Tony Stark supposed to get here?” She must not have seen the looks from Monica because Estee continued talking. “Is he making one of his world-famous grand entrances then?” Monica elbowed the girl in the ribs.

The group went silent. They tried not to but their eyes made their way to where Peter was standing. His hands ran down his tie again and the ground couldn’t have been more interesting if Frank sprouted wings and a tail.

“Mr. Stark’s not coming.” Julia said after the tension rose. “Lee also mentioned that he was called away on urgent business but he didn’t wish the teams luck because it was unnecessary. We were all too good for luck.” She said, staring at Peter.

Mr. Stark wasn’t coming.

Because of him.

That was the only reason. It had to be.

Was he so disgusted with Peter? Did he mess up enough that the man couldn’t even be there for his program?

Shame welled inside of him.

“Excuse me a moment.” He mumbled. Peter turned around and stumbled away. People looked at him as he walked through the crowd. Somewhere quiet and alone was what he needed. Peter could almost hear all the whispers about him; about what they thought happened. The faces of his teammates, staring at him with wide eyes, remained in his thoughts.

The careful way they had treated him since Oscorp and the dissolvement of his internship came rushing up. Julia’s quiet way of suggesting the library, the group chat where they would talk about nothing to do with their project, them all dropping notes and snacks off to him and then sitting with him to talk.

He’d thought they’d seen his smile and that was it, but somehow, they knew. They saw his pain and took steps to be there. For him.

“Peter.” May called out as she followed behind him.

He didn’t stop. A man in a velvet tux took a step back and Peter dodged him. He didn’t spare the stage a second glance and continued beyond the buffet tables he had yet to peruse. Maybe he could go to the broom cupboard down the hall.

“Peter.” May said again, closer this time. She touched his arm, wrapping her hand around his wrist and gently stopped his movement. Her hand slid down his wrist to capture his hand in hers. Skin met skin and Peter stared at the lines etched into his aunt’s face.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. S’not your fault.” He said. The occupants around them besides a cursory glance paid no attention and Peter shuffled his feet. “I- I just can’t talk about it. And I wanted him to be here despite how much I wanted h… Why isn’t he here May? It’s my fault.”

Peter wondered what man he’d failed he was talking about. His hands trembled and she gripped him tighter. May pulled them further toward the wall and away from people.

Her eyes, though older, still glowed like the first time she walked into his hospital room. She gazed intent at him and her words were harsh, but gentled by her thumb stroking his hand. There were no answers in her eyes but May did what she did best and that was bring him hope; bring him home.

“This was the tie he wore on our wedding, did you know? The tie he tried to teach you how to tie for the middle school promenade. Do you remember it?”

She pulled it from his jacket and, pressing her hands down the center tried to iron out the wrinkles he’d worried into it.

“You listen here Peter. I am so proud of you. So proud and happy and filled with this big ball of love we are standing in this room and that you’re my son. I know this past year hasn’t been easy. I’ve been working a lot and I know our apartment has been quiet. I’ve watched you and despite everything, you always work hard for others. Your Uncle Ben would be so proud.” She was holding him by the shoulders, almost forcing him to look into her eyes.

“He was always proud of you, Peter. When you won the spelling bee and even when you stopped all that. He was so happy to be with us, our family, together. You know he’d come home sometimes after work, he’d tell me this after the fact, and just stare up at our house. Watch the lights turned on and off, knowing we were inside and waiting for him. And if Tony Stark doesn’t want that, well I say screw him!”

Her eyes blazed and Peter believed her for a second until he remembered Mr. Stark’s eyes. The way they looked through his face when he told Peter he didn’t want him to stay.

“Anyone who has a bone to pick with Stark is a friend of mine.”

Peter’s shoulders tensed at the voice. The oil oozed out of the man’s words leaving a heavy air around them. A slim hand entered his vision, injecting itself between himself and May. Spindle-like fingers waited for May to return the gesture. Peter stared at May begging her silently not to.

“I think you may have misheard me, Mr….?” She said shaking his hand. He cringed at the way May’s hands looked curled around the newcomers like prey caught in a trap.

“I don’t think so but we’ll forget I overheard anything. It was quite rude to eavesdrop but I couldn’t wait for the chance to talk to Peter here. Could you introduce me to this beautiful woman, Peter?”

Mr. Osborn smiled, curled, and Peter shivered. All he wanted to do was run back to his room under his covers, and away from all these people- from this person.

It was not worth wearing this ill-fitting tux over.

“This is my Aunt May. May this is Mr. Obsborn. He works at Oscorp.” He held onto May’s hand for a beat more then looked to Peter.  

“There’s no need to be so humble. I own Oscorp, which by the state of things over here is doing remarkably well. You may call me Norman.”

“Yes, you exude humbleness.” She gave pointed look to his green chatoyance tux. He cleared his throat and pushed back his hair.

Peter looked between them and in a rare thought of calm, he knew if anyone could take on Mr. Osborn, it was May. While her hugs were legendary, so was her temper.

“I was coming to say congratulations, Mr. Parker. Second place is quite a feat.”

“We don’t know the results yet.”

If possible, his smile curled tighter. The man stepped closer, leaning towards them as if he was about to divulge a secret.

“Well, let’s say I have some insider information. I even happened to skim through your proposal and was most impressed. You should be proud of him, May.”

He hated how he said his aunt’s name. May looked between them and stepped back towards Peter.

“I am.” She said, wrapping her arm around his shoulder.

“Quite. Besides the fact your little group only came in second, I came over here to make you an offer Mr. Parker. Now you’ve seen the… paltry side of things. You would benefit from coming to Oscorp and seeing how a true visionary runs thing instead of how it’s done here. You’re speechless, I see. How about I sweeten the offer? That little serum you witnessed the last time. You could work on that again. Your friend has been working so hard on it but he can’t quite get it right.”  

“Peter, what is he talking about?” May’s hand tightened on his shoulder.

A feigned shock came over his face.

“Your boy here can tell you all about it later. What do you say, Peter? Ready to play with the professionals?”

Peter swallowed. His hands hung in fists at his side as he decided the best course of action.

There was no way in hell he was going to work for the man standing before him. It was enough being a foot away from him, smelling the pungent cologne, but then he was bashing Stark Industries. He was making fun of Mr. Stark. It didn’t matter that he didn’t want to see Peter again. None of that did at the moment.

Peter squared his chin.

He took a breath in and tried to take comfort from May by his side. She would never let anything bad happen but he couldn’t stand by while someone hurt Stark Industries and all it stood for.

“Thank you for the…opportunity, but I much prefer places that don’t have to steal their projects.”

Mr. Osborn stepped forward and Peter resisted the urge to step back. His eyes narrowed to slits.

“If that’s how you feel, Mr. Parker I wouldn’t want to intrude on this… happy situation. We know what we’re doing and what’s happening. It’s your loss if you don’t see it.” He turned to May. “But this is for you and I won’t take no from such a fine woman. It would hurt my honor too much.”

May reached forward to grab the business card in his hand and at the last moment he flipped his fingers over so his palm was supine and grabbed hers. Peter’s breath stopped. He saw her tense up. Her hand pulled, ready to escape but Mr. Osborn held tight. Words were on the tip of his tongue when someone stepped forward.

“There you are Mr. Osborn, Sir. The press are doing rounds and need you to give a statement.”

Mr. Osborn let May’s hand fall and he finally stepped back giving them space, though his attention remained on the pair of them.

“I’m sure we’ll see each other again. Give my regards to Stark if he ever decides to show his face.” Mr. Osborn said, eyes lingering before Estee called his attention again.

They walked off, Estee turned around at the last moment and mouthed an apology to them.

Peter stood beside May in his favorite building in the world. People surrounded them but he would have rather been anywhere else.

“Why won’t you tell me what this is all about, Peter? Peter? You need to breath, Sweetheart.”  

Somehow, they were home. He recognized the yoga mat May was pacing over with shoes on as the one situated in their living room.

It ruins the grip if you do that, she always said. Maybe she forgot. Maybe it didn’t matter anymore.

He was sitting, no, laying on the couch. His head pounded. She was talking but Peter was too empty to receive her words.

“…here. You are here at our apartment, on the couch. I threw that ratty old blanket Ben tried to knit on you. Feel its weight over your body.”

She was kneeling in front of him, her eyes bored into him, keeping him along with Ben’s blanket grounded in their apartment.

He stared at her not understanding what she was saying. Not feeling anything besides the cracks fissuring through his thoughts.

May smelled of lavender.

Peter noticed her hair flipped out at the same angle as it had since he was a child. She sat next to him on the edge of the couch he was lying on, not touching, but close enough to feel the warmth of her skin and to smell the calming scent.

He came back to the world piece by piece; out of breath and melted into the couch.

May held Ben’s necktie in her hands. It dangled between her legs and Peter became aware she was speaking to someone other than him.

Her head bent low almost touching the tie and her words drenched in loneliness echoed through the apartment in the picture frames of their family lying face down against the bookshelf and the worn paint not touched-up since he was in middle school.

Peter knew who the words were for and wished Ben could hear them somehow.

He reached forward and rested his hand on her leg.

“I’m sorry, May. I’m so sorry.” His lips trembled and her hold tightened on him.

“No, Sweetheart. You have nothing to be sorry about. I love you so much, Peter. So, so much and I want you to do something for me. I want you to start working for yourself and no one else. I want you to start taking care of yourself and loving yourself. I know it’s not easy and it downright sucks most of the time but can you try to do that?”

She moved so his head rested on her lap. Tears broke through and ran down his cheeks, soaking into her dress. He nodded into the material.

May held him. She didn’t say anything besides her love for him and in the moment that was all that mattered.

It was funny, really. Almost ten years had passed but they ended up in the same place; locked in an embrace and heartbroken over someone leaving their lives.

He wondered why he hadn’t given up yet.

He worried about what he should do now.

All he knew was the emptiness he carried around with him every day. How despite the absence of everything it weighed down on his body and soul. It made getting up in the morning and sitting with someone at lunch so difficult and he was tired of carrying it. He couldn’t carry it anymore.

Peter wasn’t happy.

He let the thought sink in. Let himself truly understand what it entailed. And then he tried not to worry about if he deserved it. Whether it was his right to be happy. All he wanted was the emptiness to be filled again.

There wasn’t a path to go down and he didn’t know where to begin, but May was here. She was always there for him and he hugged her tight.

He vowed he would find some way to try.

Because although he was only Peter Parker and he’d made so many mistakes so far. He wanted to be happy.

Thank you all!

Taglist: @whatisthou @demi-starzak @warmwithafewfrostymoments

Next Chapter Sixteen: Civil War

#peter parker #tony stark #spiderson #irondad #mcu fanfic #marvel fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #the supplejack #my writing #irondad fanfiction #shy peter parker #peter needs a hug #everyone needs a hug #spiderman #spider-man #spiderman fanfiction

3 notes · View notes

i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend · 5 years

Text

Stepping Up ~ Bucky x Reader (Part 9/12)

A/n: Hi my lovelies! Happy Friday and Happy Captain Marvel weekend! So I have some more Stepping up for you! :D There will be three more parts and an epilogue. Enjoy!

Summary: Weddings are never easy.

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Dylan x Penny, Ben x Zoe, Aunt Meg

Rating: K+

Warnings: angst ish not really though

Word count: 1477

Masterlist

You woke to your phone ringing and a frantic knocking on your door. Bucky shot up next to you, instantly alert.

“I’ll get the phone. You get the door,” you mumbled rubbing your eyes.

He nodded and slid out of bed while you yanked your phone from the charger.

“Hello?”

“You are eligible for a discount on your current auto insurance.”

Growling in annoyance, you hung up the phone and looked over to where Bucky was trying to console a teary-eyed Penny.

“Penny, what’s wrong?”

“Everything is ruined. I knew we should have eloped.”

You scooted off the bed and gave your cousin a tight hug.

“Penny, I need you to breathe, and tell me exactly what happened.”

Your tone was soothing, but held a hint of your mission voice. It did the trick.

“The venue had a pipe burst. It’s completely flooded. Everything is ruined.”

“Okay. It’s okay. We can figure something out. The wedding isn’t until tomorrow.”

“But what about the rehearsal dinner?” she sniffed.

“That’s not until tonight. We have plenty of time. We’ll get it sorted out. I promise. First things first. I need to talk to the venue and know exactly what we’re dealing with. We should also call and put a hold on any of the deliveries that were scheduled for today.” You glanced at your alarm clock. “Okay, it’s only six. We should be able to reach everyone before they open. Can you make a list and we’ll all start calling? If we each take a few we’ll be done in no time.”

“Okay. I can do that,” she whispered to herself. “I can do that.”

“Breathe, Penny. I’m going to take care of this. I promise.”

“Thank you, y/n.”

“No problem, sweetie.”

She squeezed your hands and hurried back to her room for her planning binder. You shut the door behind her and leaned heavily against it, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Bucky gently rubbed at your arms, soothing you.

“Good morning,” you finally muttered.

“Good morning, doll,” he rumbled wryly, leaning down to plant a chaste but firm kiss on your lips.

You lost yourself in the sensation for a moment before pulling back with a grateful smile.

“Thank you.”

“You never need to thank me for kissing you.”

Rolling your eyes, you bumped your hip against his as you grabbed a pair of jeans and a blouse to change into so you would be ready to dash out at a moment’s notice.

When you got down to the kitchen, your Aunt Meg, your parents, Dylan’s parents, and Penny were already divvying up the list.

“Where’s Dylan”

“In the living room on the phone with the venue.”

You nodded before leaving to take over that call, fully prepared to use your scary avenger voice. Dylan was more than willing to hand it off to you.

After a lengthy conversation with an admittedly apologetic manager, you hung up with a frustrated sigh.

“So there’s good news and bad news,” you reported finally.

“What’s the bad news?”

“The reception hall at the venue is completely flooded and unusable.”

“How can there possibly be good news?”

“Well for one, they hadn’t set up at all so none of your decorations got destroyed. They were in storage on the second floor. And since you were having your ceremony outside, it’s totally unscathed. So technically we have a wedding venue just not a reception venue. And they will be refunding your full deposit regardless of whether you use their space or not.”

“Did you threaten him?” Penny asked.

“Of course not. I was simply firm.”

Bucky coughed to hide his laugh and you smacked his flesh shoulder for it.

“Sorry, doll.”

“Even if we had the ceremony at the hotel. What would we do for the reception? The whole point was to have it all in one place so people didn’t have to travel.”

“And there’s no other place near here that would be big enough for 250 people,” Dylan pointed out.

It was quiet as everyone considered your options, occasionally tossing out an idea only for it to be shot down. Zoe and Ben leisurely made their way down during your brainstorming session.

“Morning all. What’s with the long faces?”

“My wedding is ruined,” Penny grumbled.

“Oh don’t be dramatic. What? Did someone accidentally drop a petal from your bouquet,” she sneered.

Bucky’s hand on your hip was the only thing that kept you from launching at her.

“Hush, Zoe,” your mother admonished, clearly done with her shit. “We have a real problem here.”

You tuned out the bickering for a moment, and as you stared out the window at the backyard you got an idea.

“What if we have the wedding here?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Zoe scoffed.

“How would that work?” your father asked, ignoring Zoe.

“We can set up the tables like we did for our graduation party. That was easily 300 people. Then we can set up an arch on the hill and the chairs can fan out towards where the swing set used to be.”

“It could work,” Aunt Meg agreed as she pictured it.

“But where will we get all of the tables and chairs?”

“And what about the dance floor?” Dylan asked.

“Call the venue and see if they’ll loan us their tables. It’s not like they’ll be using them today. As for everything else, I know who to call.”

“Yeah, but what’s it going to cost us?” Penny worried. “We’re pretty much maxed out on the budget department.”

“It won’t cost you anything.”

“You are not paying to get us out of this disaster,” she warned.

“It won’t cost me a dime. Scout’s honor. Just some groveling and probably a few months of bathroom duty.”

Bucky snorted as the others stared at you.

You waved your hand dismissively. “Look. I promised you I will take care of it and I will. If you’re okay with it, I will make the call.”

“Do you really think we can pull it off?”

“I will do whatever it takes to make sure it does.”

Penny and Dylan shared a long look, not needing to speak out loud.

“We trust you,” she finally said.

You nodded and left the room, already dialing the number, pointedly ignoring Zoe’s sarcastic “y/n to the rescue”.

You were worried he may not answer, but luckily he picked up after two rings.

“What’s up, buttercup?”

“Hey, Tony.”

You could hear the clinking of his tools in the background stop when you spoke.

“What’s wrong, y/n?”

“We’re in a little bit of a crisis,” you sighed as you sat down on the back of the couch.

“What do you need?” he asked immediately.

“Some very large tents, a dance floor, and a few generators.”

“I assume you need it today.”

“That would be ideal.”

“Okay. I’ll take care of it.”

You were used to Tony’s generosity, but it usually came with insatiable curiosity.

“You’re not even going to ask what happened?” you asked, unable to hide the surprise in your voice.

“You can tell me later. Right now we need to get your cousin’s wedding back on track. Text me a list. Whatever you need. And the address. Everything will be there by three.”

“Thank you so much. I owe you like a million favors.”

“You don’t owe me anything, y/n. I’m happy to help.”

“You’re the best, Tony.”

“I know,” he assured you. “And if Penny and Dylan want to name their first child after the man who saved their wedding then so be it.”

You scoffed but didn’t comment, and when he continued his voice was soft and serious.

“Your family is my family, y/n. Give Penny and Dylan my best wishes for a long and happy marriage.”

“I will. And I’ll get you the list ASAP. Thank you so much.”

“Sounds good. I’ll call you once I have the details. Oh, by the way. How’d my little project for Barnes work out?”

You’d almost forgotten about the arm covering Bucky had foregone.

“He actually didn’t end up using it. No offense to your tech, but I wanted them to see the real Bucky.”

“I figured as much. Alright. You two have fun. Bye, kiddo.”

“Bye, Tony.”

“Tony sends his best wishes,” you informed the stressed out couple.

“Tony as in Tony Stark?” Ben asked incredulously.

You ignored him and faced Penny and Dylan.

“We need to make a list of everything we’ll need, and he’ll make sure that it gets here this afternoon.”

“Are you serious?”

“100 percent.”

“How are we ever going to repay him?”

You shook your head.

“Don’t worry about it. He wanted to help.”

“That’s really generous of him.”

“Yeah, y/n, you must have kissed up pretty well for him to like you so much.”

You grit your teeth and ignored her.

“Let’s get started on that list.”

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading. We’re wrapping up, but there’s still a good amount of story to tell, so stay tuned.

xoxo Naynay

Tag Lists are Open (Please send an ask)

Stepping Up Tag List @holycoldcoffee @ek823 @lordemjay @nirvanalovesyoutbh @eleshka-still @bookgirlunicorn @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t

Bucky/Sebastian Tag List @waywardpumpkin @sadanddeadsoul @captain-maaarvel @caylast @isaxhorror @run-your-cleverboy @ria132love @mbsgr @hereisanapplepie @pierrxt-uta @thejourneyneverendsx @stevieboyharrington @catsandbooksinafarawayplace @mywinterwolf

Marvel Tag List @hdthdthdt @sophiatomlinson23 @misty-panther @supermusicallee @scarlettsoldier @acupofhotlatte @slender--spirit @petitesmate

Permanent Tag List @iamwarrenspeace @jayzayy @bexboo616 @neoqueen306 @santheweird @rowenaravencalw @buckitybarnes @prxttybirdz @sergeantjbuckybarnes @captainsamwlsn @broitsmydick @ailynalonso15 @nyxveracity @queenoftrash97 @walkingtravesty97 @lamia-maizat @memyselfandmaddox @lowkeybuckyb @whiskey2011 @averyrogers83 @lovingpeterparker @buckybarneshairpullingkink @beansparker @coralphantomninja @xxashy999xx @thisismysecrethappyplace @ravennightingaleandavatempus @paintballkid711 @whosmarisaaarw

#Bucky x reader #Stepping Up #Part 9 #Bucky Barnes

126 notes · View notes

dr-astormylasthurrah · 5 years

Text

questions and answers...

done over discord, collected here for archives!

(also, a reminder that the askbox is always open~)

“Does anyone like to collect or hoard things?”

CHIYO: I really, really like collecting headbands!! I’ve got a frankly embarrassing collection at home, from Hello Kitty styled ones to more “mature” looking ones. My grandma gave me a lot of my collection, so they’re really important to me! AMAL: I don’t really have time to collect things. Collecting postage stamps would be a nice hobby if it didn’t get so expensive with limited runs or whatever. TATSUMARU: ... Why would... why would I want to spend money on things I don’t need or want? SENTAROU: I collect interesting yarn. But you didn’t hear that from me and if you ever tell anyone I’m legally obligated to kill you. IRIS: Um... hair clips? I have a few sets depending on what I feel like doing! And I buy more every year for my birthday. It... might be a problem. ASTER: Bold of you to assume I know anything about myself, let alone what I have at home. Bold of you to assume I know where my home is, too. I hope past me collected rocks. Not gemstones or anything, just funky rocks. CLAUDE: If it exists in collectible form, I have a few. Don’t even ask me to pick a specific thing, ahaha. My room’s a mess. Wait, Kinder egg toys! Those are fun. HIRONO: I don’t really collect things, but I do keep a lot of physical photographs of places I’ve been to and people I like. Photography reminds me of Megumi, so I like doing it! ALEXEI: Feathers. Call me predictable, but I prefer “dedicated” or “has a very clear idea of what I want in life”. RIRIKA: I collect anime girl PNGs. Never, ever play gacha idol games. Don’t make my mistakes. TSUKINO: I have a TON of plane tickets!! Well, most of them aren’t mine, and sometimes I just beg them off people at airports and they look at me weird. It’s so neat knowing that these little papers can take you anywhere and that they’re from so many cool places, too! BRENDAN: I hoard anything I can fit in my toolbelt and save for later. So like, odds and ends. I, uh... may have a problem with never throwing things away. TIANA: A lot of my jewelry is from lot sales conducted by my aunt. I suppose most of the reason I have so much of it is to feel closer to my family, though I make some of it myself, too. RYOUJI: I collect... what do I collect, actually? I collect dust from sitting in one place for so long. Haha. I’m kidding, I’m always on my feet, please god send help I just want to sleep. TRISTAN: I don’t see the point in keeping so much stuff. Not to sound like a cleaning show host, but collecting things is such a waste of time, space, and money. No offense. KANEMORI: I don’t usually care about things but I got one of those little, what are they called, aquabead bracelets? From a sponsor? And suddenly my house is full of cheap bracelets. Especially those thin vinyl ones, those are the best. Why has my life come to this though.

“Do they dress for looks or comfort? What’s their fashion angle?”

CHIYO: I’d say looks are... most of it? I mean, of course I want to be comfortable, but ultimately I don’t think I’m ever going to stop worrying about passing. It does help that I genuinely like skirts and dresses and stuff, although I’m still kinda insecure about showing too much skin. I like the aesthetic of Howl’s Moving Castle, so I think that’s the kind of fashion I’d like to wear - something simple and crisp. AMAL: For me, fashion is definitely comfort over appearance. I haven’t really thought about what I wear in a while. Bates says I look like a wannabe TA who’s currently sucking up to the professor and I am ACTIVELY CHOOSING to view that as a compliment. Fuck you, Bates. TATSUMARU: In all honesty, what I wear every day is only a slight modification of what I wear onstage. I haven’t even thought about what I would wear if not this. Although this cloak is nice. SENTAROU: Are you kidding? Comfort all the way, but because of my stupid job I have to look at least somewhat professional. Hence, the tuxedo jacket. This is my life hack or whatever, I just toss it on if I need to look fancy. If I had my way, I’d be wearing T-shirts and jackets all the time. I’m not interested in looking nice for other people’s enjoyment, thank you very much. IRIS: As much as I’d love to dress up, I don’t leave my house very often, so there’s really no point in wearing anything fancy. I guess off the shoulder tops would be cute? I don’t really know. Oh, but if societal standards weren’t a thing, I’d love to have a pair of those kiddie butterfly wings! ASTER: ... I mean assuming what I’m wearing right now is close to my normal clothes, I guess this is looking a lot like function over form. But given the option, I think I’d wear more patterns. Like, yeah, I like simple clothing items, but I also want to wear some kind of personality, y’know? I’d keep this jacket, for example. But I want patterns on my pants. CLAUDE: It’s a mix of both for me! Just, y’know, my idea of “comfort” doesn’t exactly match with other people’s. I try to go for an approachable but fashionable vibe! Thin, large sweater tops, scarves, I’d basically be the poster child of every men’s fashion catalogue if I could be, ahaha. HIRONO: Definitely comfort. I’m used to being overlooked, so I may as well be comfortable. Though I’m told if I dress in a suit and fold my arms, my glare is impressive enough to melt holes in steel. I guess that’s kind of cool, but I’d still rather have people to talk to, y’know. ALEXEI: Comfort. Yes, this includes the cape. The cape is comfort. I am comfortable being dramatic and unknowable to man. Fuck off if you have a problem. RIRIKA: Looks, of course. It’s a little hard for me not to be detail oriented, considering my talent and everything, and besides, dressing nicely makes me feel more confident. I like layering things and using repetitive colors or patterns to tie outfits together. Sometimes I’ll focus all of my energy into an outfit in order to kill God or something. I don’t know. TSUKINO: I don’t know what this is! I wish I could be more punkish when I’m flying with like spikes and everything but noooo apparently that’s a “safety hazard” and “a distraction to the instructor”. Well, joke’s on you, safety instructor, but my normal flight clothes have studs on them ANYWAY. I’m gonna fight the establishment in every way, bitch! BRENDAN: It’s comfort. It’s absolutely just for comfort. I’ve had this jacket since I was 12, 13...? I bought it two sizes too big and it’s so worn out now that I’ve had to sew patches into it, but I hate throwing anything away so I just keep it. So I guess my fashion sense is just... “shabby”. I don’t mind, though! I think it gives me character. TIANA: Looks are MUCH more important than comfort when it comes to clothes. A good outfit can make or break someone’s perception of you. Though I don’t like to wear full business attire every day and I can’t imagine doing so at this time, I think it’s wise to at least have a decent collared shirt at all times. As for my shorts and socks... I think I just have a look going on here. Besides, gyaru fashion is quite cute. So roll with it. RYOUJI: Uh... At this point, imma keep it real with you, my fashion sense is a game of “how androgynous can I go without my parents suspecting anything”. I’m kind of dying in this, considering the heat of wearing two layers and a binder, but I also don’t care anymore. I guess I’m okay wearing T-shirts and stuff if I don’t have anywhere to be, but I’d like to at least LOOK competent, you know? TRISTAN: I’m wearing socks and sandals as we speak. So take a guess. I look exactly like a stereotypical gamer because it’s true. KANEMORI: Weird as this is to say, I favor both. I’m never far from a spotlight, between me and my parents and everything, so I have to look at least kind of presentable at all times. Which sucks, but it’s what I grew up with, so I guess that’s just how my life is. I’m used to just wearing T-shirts and stuff. If I had to wear a tie I guess I’d just choke or something.

For Hirono: What's your favorite genre of music?

EKYOU: Uh... anything, I guess? I have what’s described as “eclectic” taste. But I promise I’ll listen to anything people show me, and I’ll do my best to like it!

Uhmm for Iris: How would your ideal romantic date be?

SUMITAMA: E-eh?? This is super cheesy, but... I like the idea of a traditional date! A fancy dinner with candles and everything. SUMITAMA: Oh, but outside of that, I’d really enjoy a date where I can do things I love with someone I love! Walking around a botanical garden, or having a library day... As long as it’s free. I need to save money for textbooks. College courses are evil, don’t do them.

for ryouji: do you keep your room as clean as you keep the kitchen?

ATSUI: HAHAHAHAHA no I wish. ATSUI: The kitchen thing isn’t so much my rules as my parents’ rules, but it’s good to follow - if your kitchen is a mess you’re going to knock something over and regret everything. This may or may not be from personal experience. ATSUI: But my room?? That’s my HOME. That’s my PRIVATE AREA. I’m going to trip over everything in it and no one can say shit. ATSUI: I should probably start picking up all the laundry though.

Alexei, what is the most beautiful bird you have ever seen and why do you think is the most beautiful?

BAZHANOV: Pigeons are underrated. They have iridescent feathers and yet we as humans still consider them nuisances. It’s a shame. BAZHANOV: I would say something real deep about the nature of humanity to ignore beauty but I’m pretty sure that people hate them because they shit everywhere. Which is fair enough, I suppose.

For Chiyo: This is going to sound really dumb, but do you like to read? If so, what sorts of things do you like to read (genre-wise)?

CHIYO: I like kids books a lot more than young adult stuff. You know how young adult novels these days are always either “gritty sci-fi suspense” or “vaguely Eurocentric fantasy” or “heartwarming realistic fiction”? Kids stories are a lot more creative. And with a lot less pointless death. CHIYO: As for what kind of stories, I think fantasy/sci-fi is nice! Especially books that lean on fairytale elements and mythology, it’s like a history lesson and story at once! CHIYO: But, uh, I don’t understand that series with the talking cats. I tried to read it a few times but I think that’s just something you have to get into as a child.

(This is going off Western genres I don’t actually know shit abt Japanese novels)

Tsukino, do you have a celebrity crush?

CHISAKI: THE LEAD SINGER OF R3BELS OBVIOUSLY.

Does Alexei just have the one mask or does he have multiple for different outfits/occasions

BAZHANOV: Just the one. It’s surprisingly hard to track down decent and inexpensive masks for dramatic occasions. I wish I had more, but it’s also not as if I have the money to procure them. BAZHANOV: ... Unrelated, how feasible is it to break into a bank?

hirono, how did you start ōendan?

EKYOU: After... well, after some family things happened, my oldest brother Rousei thought that I needed something to do. He said ōendan would be good because I’m good at cheering for people, and he said it’s what he did in high school, too. So... I guess I gave it a shot? I’m glad I can encourage people to do their best!! But it’s just not something I’m super into for the sake of myself. But I’m at HPA now, so I shouldn’t be ungrateful, it’s just.... Yeah. EKYOU: Plus, I haven’t had time to pursue photography... It’s kind of driving me up the wall.

If tsukino could do anything other than her talent hat would she do?

CHISAKI: It would be my GOD GIVEN RIGHT as an individual to join some kind of band and go break some hearts and make like ten million dollars! But I’m kinda tone deaf! ... Not like that matters for the kind of music I’m into but hey!!

#not aslh #trivia #ask and you shall receive #danganronpa #danganronpa oc #a stormy last hurrah #q

2 notes · View notes

eightmakar · 6 years

Text

English Boy | One

(College!Harrison Osterfield AU)

Teaser

Summary: Thank you college for hooking you up with a tutor!

Word count: 1.8k

(A/n: hi guys!!! this is my new Harrison story, give me feedback and enjoy!!!!)

“Venti iced coffee for (Y/N)!”

You grabbed your coffee and sat down in the corner booth of Starbucks. It was just before noon, and you were waiting for this Harrison guy to help you with your English lit. You were three weeks into the semester and already struggling. You had a paper to write on Macbeth, but had no idea what to do.

You looked down to see a text from Harrison.

Hey, I’m here! Where are you?

Corner booth with the laptop!

You looked up and saw a gorgeous boy standing in the line, looking down at his phone and then up around the restaurant. He made eye contact with you, saw your laptop, smiled, and waved. You smiled and waved back, but your heart was pounding.

He was tall and thin, his dirty blonde hair messily styled. All you could do was stare as he got a coffee and walked over to your table.

“(Y/N)?” He asked cautiously.

You stood up. “The one and only!” His British drawl sounded musical when it spoke your name.

“Nice to meet ya! I guess you’re gonna save my math grade, huh?” he joked as he sat down.

You felt your hands start to shake, but tried to keep them as still as possible. “If you save my English grade!”

He pulled out a binder neatly labeled “Calculus” and placed it on the table. “So what are you working on?”

“I have to write an essay about stupid Shakespeare,” you said with a roll of your eyes.

Harrison laughed. You decided right then and there you needed to hear that musical sound every day for the rest of your life.

“Shakespeare isn’t that bad! Which play is it?”

You looked him in the eyes. “Shakespeare is AWFUL. I read a few of his things in high school, like Romeo and Juliet and Much Ado About Nothing and I hated them. This essay is on Macbeth.”

“What did you hate about them? Macbeth is my favorite of his plays.”

“Romeo and Juliet didn’t think about the ramifications of their actions. They didn’t think, “Oh, maybe we shouldn’t trust this weird Friar guy who is willing to fake our deaths to save our creepy 17-year-old-in-love-with-a-13-year-old romance.” They didn’t think about anything. All they cared about was being in love.”

“So what does that say about life? Does that say anything about young love?” Harrison had a small smile on his face.

“It shows that young love clouds the judgement of people involved in it,” You continued to rant.

“Exactly. That’s exactly what he wanted to demonstrate. You hit the nail on the head.”

Your brow furrowed. “What?”

His smile widened. “I know you were just ranting about how dumb it was, but that’s exactly the point. That’s what Shakespeare wanted to show the world about young love. How fast it comes and goes. At the beginning of the play, Romeo is fawning over Rosaline, remember? He tells his buddies how beautiful she is and how he can’t live without her and all that shit. But as soon as he sees Juliet, he immediately attaches himself to her and forgets all about Rosaline. He tries to woo Juliet instead of Rosaline. Shakespeare did that to demonstrate how stupid it was that teenagers jumped from love to love without any reason or real attachment.”

You thought about it for a second. Had you actually gotten the point of the play? “That’s just a coincidence,” you said.

“Let’s test that, then. What did you not like about Macbeth? What did you like about Macbeth? Is there a particular character you liked or felt bad for?” Harrison’s smile kept getting bigger. His eyes were the most striking color of blue you’d ever seen. The way he looked at you with them made your face feel hot.

“Well, I love Lady Macbeth.”

“Why do you love her?”

“I love her because she’s tragic. She tried everything to escape the role that her society had forced her into, and she hated it. She wished she’d been a man so what she wanted to do was acceptable.”

“Are you sure you need my help?” Harrison asked. “You really have this all down already.”

Your eyes widened. You didn’t want him to leave. “I didn’t know I had it down. Please stay, it’s helpful to talk about it.”

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere until I understand derivatives, love,” he said with a laugh. You melted. You wanted him to call you love again and again and again.

“Well what are you confused on?” You asked, closing your laptop and moving to look at his notes.

“Go over the basics. The power rule, whatever that means.” He took out his pencil, ready to take notes, looking at you hopefully.

“The power rule? Okay, so, let’s say you have a function, something easy, like y = 2x. What does the 2 represent?”

He thought for a moment. “It’s the slope of the line.”

“Exactly! And what’s the derivative of y = 2x?”

“Um, it’s just 2 isn’t it?”

“Yes it is! So one of the things I like to do is visualize what the graph of a function would look like before I ever try to mess with derivatives, because it’ll actually give you a picture of what you’re trying to go for. If you graphed y = 2, it’s a horizontal line, right? So you know the graph of y = 2x has to be something really simple with a slope of 0 and no variability in the Y-axis. In the same way, if you had a function that was crazy and you got a simple derivative, you’d know that was wrong, because the slope of the line definitely wouldn’t be just a simple number.”

You looked up at Harrison. He was lost, you could see it in his eyes.

“No offense,” he started, “but I have actually no idea what the fuck you just said.”

You laughed. “I get that a lot! Don’t worry about it! Here, let me try again!”

You pulled out a sheet of paper to show him what you meant. You drew a few graphs and re-explained in a different way about the relationship between slope and derivative and how you could use it to kind of cheat the system.

“That makes total sense now!” Harrison exclaimed. “So how does that relate to the power rule?”

You smiled. “So the power rule is the easiest way to find derivatives. Let’s say you have the function y = x^3. The power rule says that you can take the exponent, which is 3 in this case, and multiply it by whatever’s in front of the x, which is 1 in this case. Then, you subtract one from the original exponent. So you get 3x^2 as the derivative. Right?”

Harrison furrowed his brow in concentration, biting the inside of his cheek. He looked like a painting, all vibrant colors and soft brush strokes paired with hard lines.

“Right,” he said. You could see the gears turning in his head.

“And then if you graph that, you get a parabola, because it’s an x^2 function, right?”

“Right! Okay, lemme try to explain it to you,” he said, holding up his hands and looking at you. “You have a variable. It has some number as a coefficient in front of it. It has some exponent. To find the derivative, You multiple the exponent by the coefficient, which becomes the new coefficient, and then you subtract one from the exponent which becomes your new exponent?”

“Perfect!” You cheered, clapping your hands.

Instead of cheering with you, Harrison’s brow stayed furrowed. He was thinking about something.

“So what if the coefficient is negative? If you just have an x that’s x-to-the-one, so it’s just X. And anything to the zero power is itself. So the derivative of something like 5x is 5. What’s the derivative of a number?”

You smiled. “Keep talking. You’ve almost got the whole number thing.”

He thought some more. “Would it—would it, no, it can’t be, but, uh, would it just be zero? Since there’s no more exponents?”

“You got it!” You said excitedly. Harrison smiled triumphantly. “If the coefficient is negative, you do the same thing; you multiple the coefficient and the exponent, then subtract. Like 5x^-2. The derivative is -10x^-3.”

Harrison nodded with a smile. “Can you just take over teaching my class, please? You explain it so well. You really love math, don’t you?”

You shrugged. “Numbers make sense. They follow rules and you don’t have to coax anything out of them. You plug them into formulas and presto! You’ve got an answer. None of the read into it bullshit like you have in literature. No offense,” you finished quickly.

He laughed. “None taken. But aren’t there exceptions to the rules sometimes?”

“There can be. But they’re easy to catch, and they have proof and examples you can use to find them. No finagling. No thinking about it.”

You bit your lip, nervous about how he would respond. A lot of people thought you were ridiculous for your love of numbers and math, but you didn’t care. You hoped Harrison wouldn’t be one of those people.

“Can you help me understand?” He said softly.

“Hmm?” You barely heard him.

“Can you show me what you mean? I want to understand and not read into everything. I try to approach everything like a piece of literature, with information and meaning needing to be gleaned from it. But with math, you just needed to know what formula to use. I want to think like you.”

Your hands started to shake again. He wanted to think like you, to understand how your brain worked. That had to mean something, right? Were you starting to think like him now?

“I’ll help show you what I mean if you show me what you mean. I want to be able to read into thinks and not just take everything at face value like everything is a math problem.”

He smiled softly. “What a pair we make, huh?” he said with a light chuckle. “Both wanting to understand how the other person thinks. This is going to be fun, isn’t it?”

Tags:

@upsidedownparker @ibtomholland @beautiful-holland @idektomholland @whyistomholland @whyispeterparker @notimeforthemessenger @ineedsomemoremetime @unicorngummybears @i-dont-wanna-go-mr-stark @inspiredbynewt @bi-writes

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield fanfiction #harrison osterfield fanfictions #harrison osterfield fanfic #harrison osterfield fanfics #college!harrison osterfield #college!au #college!harrison

143 notes · View notes