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oumaheroes · 3 years

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Earthbound 1/?

Summary:

Centuries after humanity fled a dying Earth and found sanctuary in the stars, the planet has healed enough to support mankind once more. For some, there is something more than curiosity; memories from another life whisper history in familiar voices, calling them home.

'He closes his eyes and thinks about blue flowers and large statues of stone, of ships and red coats flapping over a green meadow.'

Part 2 Part 3

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Chapter 1: Scattered Amongst The Stars

Alfred is six. It was his birthday last Tuesday and he got to have a really big party and it was really really cool, but the coolest thing ever was that he got an e-tab from his Ma. Everyone at school already has an e-tab -as a July baby he's one of the youngest- so now he can finally join in with the special classes that they have and play all of those games at lunch time.

Alfred doesn't like feeling left out. It's not nice, Ma says, when you don't include people, so that means that the people who play games on their e-tabs when they know he doesn't have one are being mean on purpose and that really hurts. Except now, now he can join in and be their friend again and won't have to sit alone at his table when it's interactive e-tab time.

It's not real learning, Pa says. He didn't want Alfred to have one, says that it rots your brains and makes you lazy, and says that the e-tab time is just 'enrichment', it's not part of the curriculum because they're not learning anything, just downloading and watching stuff. Still, Ma must have talked him around because on Tuesday Alfred opened the box and there it was, all for him. There's some games on it, from Grandpa, and Ma had uploaded some of his favourite movies for him to watch as soon as he'd synced his mind up. Pa got there too, he must have done, because there's also some files on 'Earth History', 'The Fall', and one about extinct animals which Alfred really doesn't wanna read but Pa's been mentioning at least one of them every dinner since so he probably should.

He goes into school and begins to chatter happily to his friend Ben as soon as he sees him about 'Zip Blast', the current school-yard fad, and about how he can't wait to sync up and play because he'd been practising over the weekend and he thinks he's kinda good now.

Ben looks uncomfortable. 'Oh, I don't think we're playing that one any more.'

'Huh? But...' Alfred stops and looks at Ben in disbelief, 'but Friday you said it was the best ever!'

'Well it was,' Ben concedes, reluctantly, 'but now there's the new 'Rock-ite' out so we played that over the weekend.'

Alfred's heart sinks. 'We?'

His friend has the grace to look as apologetic as a six year old can look about these matters but nothing more than that and at recess Alfred is alone once more. He tells himself it's okay, he doesn't care anyway but it's a half-hearted lie at best and he doesn't try to kid himself for too long. Instead, he decides he may as well sync up one of those stuffy files Pa put on the e-tab to pass the time and nibbles a cookie to keep himself entertained.

His teacher finds him gormless, ten minutes later. His eyes are glazed as he stares unblinkingly at the wall and his cookie, one chunk missing, lies forlorn on the table next to his slack left hand but his brain is more full and awake than it's ever been. Information about a long dead planet far far away pound and crash in his head and as soon as the data file has been properly synced he reaches out for his tab and loads up another.

At eight, Alfred has become that kid. No matter what conversation he gets into or who he talks to, if there is an opening or an opportunity he will bring up Earth and once that's accomplished he can go on and on for hours. He's downloaded every possible data file he can find about the entire subject: life before the Fall, the Fall itself, and the human race's desperate escape across the stars and for him it's still never enough. There's always another e-file to sync: about ancient nations, about old sciences and religions, about old wars and songs and dances and food; every second he can spare he gives over to tales of the past woven from the binary of today.

They are a scattered people, he likes to tell his listeners, there are hundreds of us, strewn across galaxies and planets and ships and no one knows how many of us there are any more because the Fall ripped apart alliances and histories so we don't even know who else is out there to find. Everything was lost, everything; the history, the stories, the places, the-

At this point, someone usually either changes the topic of conversation or he realises that they've walked away and left him babbling to himself, his eyes shut as he imagines the flight to freedom that happened too long before he was born. Adults are usually nicer and listen for longer, but they don't mean it either and by pretending to be interested in what he has to say they only serve to hurt him more.

He just can't understand, why does no one else find this interesting? Why does no one else dream of where they as a species came from and long to see it for themselves? Alfred would do anything to feel the wind on his face, to have breeze in his hair and the sun touch his skin because although he could play in a holo-room or go on a special holo-holiday it's not real and Alfred longs to just feel it. The sun on his planet is strong but the dense material of the domes blocks it from actually reaching him; he can't feel the warmth. At school he's learnt that it's too hot out there anyway and he'd die, but according to his data files the sun should be warm and gentle and fill up summer days and spring afternoons, so he can't quite feel the danger as much as he probably should. There's no air outside the domes either and what's the point of feeling the sun without a breeze, so he's not as sad as he could have been. It wouldn't ever compare to mankind's old sun, the sun in the stories he's growing up on.

He sometimes spends his recess and lunch at school rushing about as fast as his legs can carry him. Trying to get his own wind in such space is hard, but not impossible and if he focuses hard enough on his self-made breeze he can imagine that he's running over rocks and cliffs and weaving in and out of long gone animals that only the sky can remember. If this doesn't work, he syncs with his e-files to learn about something else, he's started to get into the people recently and likes the stories about normal stuff the most. Food, clothes, toys. Relatable things that he can see in his own home and use to imagine that he's been transported back through time and space.

There are often pictures of houses and Alfred marvels as how big they are and how much stuff those people must have had, collected form all the many places they must have seen. You can't get wood any more, but maybe if he asks Pa nicely he can get him some of that building material they use for making the new domes and he can practise making his own, just to see if he can.

He spends his weekends tinkering in his room with old bits of plastic, metal and cables and every now and again he plugs in a new circuit board to the plug sockets in his room and sees if he can make the lights turn on or off from somewhere else. Last weekend he built a fan and managed to make it blow. He can sync up a sound file from Earth and imagine that he's in a town somewhere way back when and there's a breeze on his face and there's someone who wants to talk to him.

Alfred is fifteen and is the best engineer in his school. He specialised early -he'd always had a knack for building things and he's good with numbers- and now this is what he's known for. Alfred can look at a electrical hub or a circuit board and immediately he can see either what's wrong or how to improve it and this makes him valuable. He's been building and fiddling with this sort of stuff in his room for ages but now it's finally cool, people actually want him to do that now. He sees it as a lucky thing, that he was bullied so much for it previously, because now he can see how much bullshit people like to throw when they want you to do something, how much an opinion of someone can change depending on their age and talent. Too good too young: weird and a nerd, you're wasting your time. Then you hit the right age and suddenly you're very experimental, very mature, it's good to know what you want in life. But ah, still young enough not to know your worth, you'll fix this for me for free, yes? If he wasn't as good as he is, he thinks, how valuable would they think I am? The answer scares him because he knows what it is and knows how thin the line he treads is; there are others like him, don't forget.

What even is he, without the skills of his hands?

He is seventeen. Alfred hates it, but Ma could use the help and Pa's not getting any younger, so he accepted an offer not too long ago for a entry level job in the government engineering department. It is an amazing offer for someone so young and fresh out of school, he knows that, but as much as he enjoys what he does the days wear him out and he spends less time listening to his e-files and more time building the dreams of others far more affluent than he.

He thinks he's doing okay for a while. The days whittle by easily and he starts to build up a nice savings pile that he uses to help out his parents every now and again. But he's nothing special. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of kids just like him on this planet who have been fed on a diet of strict, specialised schooling meant to produce only the best and Alfred knows that the only thing which sets him apart from the many many many others is his ability to just keep going. There is no safety in what he does at his age, no net to catch him if he slips up, so he begins to take on private jobs at the weekend to build up his CV further and get his name out there, making the chance of falling just that bit smaller. Before he realises it it's been a month since he last had the time set aside to listen to an e-file and that hits him, hard. He'd never had to set aside time before. Hell, he can't remember when he'd last done anything other than go to work, come home to sleep, and repeat.

He's struck by the monotony of it all. He can't see a difference between his life and that of his dad's, or his dad's friends, or anyone he knows, for that matter. Is this all there is? Is this all anyone does? When is there ever a break? Then, he gets it. There won't be a break. As soon as you can't keep up in this crazy race he's in, you're worthless. He's kind of been kidding himself, almost, that there'd be an end to it all, like a video game where you complete the level and then suddenly it's free play. You work hard to get a reward of, of something, or at least you can stop worrying and panicking about being left behind. There is no free play, he realises, it just keeps on going until you can't play any more because life has ground out your energy and sucked the vitality from your bones.

He goes running; pounding his feet on the treadmill he sucks in the humid air around him and imagines than he's running through an old Earthen jungle, dodging trees and leaping over crags in the forest floor. But there's no wind, and Earth refuses to come alive.

Alfred is eighteen. A message came through from Earth, old true Earth, that a new colony there is doing well and he hasn't been able to stop thinking about it since, thinking and dreaming about what he'd do if he ever went there, if he ever set up his life there instead of here. He could...no. There is no safety in history, he knows. There is no definite chance that anyone would want him to do that. Besides, there's no potential for definite growth, no stable career plan because you can't guarantee a career on digging up the scanty past of a long dead planet. But no matter how big of a safety net he could make for himself in engineering he feels no passion about any of it and the idea of spending his days encapsulated in this metal world of domes and tunnels makes him feel cold.

There's something that calls him in his dreams and whispers over the wind in his mind and this builds and builds in his feet until he can't keep them still any longer. One more look out of the window and up at the stars and he's gonna blow, he needs to get out and go go go because if he doesn't then he's gonna sink in this place.

Before he can stop himself he's bought a ticket and finds himself packing hurriedly late at night when his parents are asleep, stuffing clothes into the only bag he only which is far too small for this sort of thing but who the fuck travels anywhere these days? He hasn't got time to be better at this so he crouches under his bed and reaches in, all the way back until his hand scrapes the wall and he finds his old fan that he built when he was eight. He puts it on his bed, places his e-tab next to it with a message of what he's done and that's that.

He slips out without waking his parents, because saying goodbye would only be too hard and he knows that he'd end up changing his mind if they spoke even one word to him, so he says his farewells in silence and disappears.

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

Peter is five and he sits upon his mother's knee, playing with the buttons on her shirt. She's with other adults and they're all talking about something that he doesn't really understand but they all sound sad and the air feels heavy so he keeps quiet like a good boy should and thinks about other things to keep himself busy. He thinks about the e-book his nanny got him last Christmas, the one with the pretty pictures, and thinks that it would be nice to live inside that book, with the greens of grass that he's never touched before. He wonders if grass is hard or soft and he spends so long thinking of this that that night, when he is sleeping, he dreams that he is running on grass and it is prickly, tickling his feet.

There is a voice in the dream, singing him the story but it is not Nanny's voice, nor Mummy's or Daddy's, but another man's and the lilt of his voice sings a language Peter doesn't know but it is a good voice for story telling and so the dream is vivid and touchable. He flies through the grass, feet pounding at earth instead of metal and the voice chuckles, deep and throaty. It makes him feel safe.

He wakes up because his Mummy is stroking his hair and forgets; school teaches him about how the air system in his dome works. Grass isn't as important as breathing.

He is eight and they are learning about the old Earthen languages. There used to be many, his teachers says, and each language held a culture, a history and a soul of a people and there used to be hundreds of them on Earth before it Fell. The teacher is old; his words are flat and there is no passion in his tone, but a thrill runs up Peter's arms as he imagines so much more. From the nothing he is given his brain decides to give those dead languages life and all of a sudden there are bursts of sound echoing inside his head. The teacher moves on, the class sits bored, but Peter can hear consonants clash against teeth and tongue and fricatives slip between breathy vowels. There are phonemes which glide between dipthongs and tripthongs to bound and fall out of the hundreds of mouths of hundreds of people; whispers of a past no one can hear tell stories long forgotten.

There is a clap very close to his head which scares all of the sounds away. His teacher looms over him, frowning in exasperation.

'Again, Peter?' he says, 'Stop daydreaming, boy. I asked you a question.'

'Er...' his classmates snicker and he feels his ears go red. 'I'm sorry, sir, I wasn't listening.'

'That much was obvious.'

Peter's cheeks burn hotter and he stares at his e-tab, focusing on the light of the screen to stop him from crying.

Before too long the lesson changes, then the day ends and he's allowed to go home. He walks alone through the corridors and exits the school dome, coming into the shuttle bus bay. He's a big boy now, he can take the shuttle bus all by himself and he has a special card to prove it. Weaving in and out of the other children, he hurries to where his bus is docked and scrambles inside to rush to his favourite seat, hopping up and placing his bag on the seat beside him. He likes to sit alone, because then he can stare out of the window and dream for as long as the journey will let him without worrying about talking to someone. Not that anyone wants to anyway, the other children say he's not got a brain because he would rather focus on the story in his head than on their silly games.

Nanny doesn't mind, she says it's good for people to dream and says that he goes off to somewhere called 'Neverland' whilst she pinches his cheeks and calls him her little Peter Pan. But when he gets home Nanny isn't there, Mummy and Daddy are and they're huddled in front of the large e-screen in the sitting room, faces pinched in worry.

He drops his bag by the kitchen table and goes to join them. There is a man on the screen speaking about their air ventilation system and a 'catastrophic degradation' and about some big numbers with a scientist nodding seriously to his left.

'What do we do now?' His mother's voice is hushed, fragile.

His father raises his eyes to her and shakes his head slowly. 'Debbie... you heard what he said. The planet's no longer viable.' His eyes flick towards Peter, suddenly aware that he's there too, and he smiles although it doesn't reach his eyes. 'Hey Pete. Do you mind doing your homework in your room today?'

Peter could ask why, but he sees that his Daddy doesn't want him to and Mummy looks like she's going to cry, so he glances once more at the screen and nods. He leaves them with the scary looking numbers and tips his books onto his bed. That night he dreams of waves crashing against his legs and he tastes the salt on his lip when he wakes.

At nine, there's some breaking news. Earth, of all things Earth, is habitable once more and it can't come at a better time. Peter sits on his favourite sofa at Nan's house, with his father having lunch, when the planet-wide intercom coughs its way to life and briefly deafens them all before the sound adjusts ever so slightly.

'ATTENTION ALL. PRIMARY SUPPORT SYSTEMS FOR THE SOUTH SIDE HAVE SUFFERED AN IRREPERABLE MALFUNCTION. BACKUP SYSTEMS WILL HOLD FOR APPROXIMATLY 3 HOURS AND 45 MINUTES. THIS IS NOT A DRILL; MAKE YOUR WAY TO YOUR EVACUATION POINTS.'

Then, it falls silent once more.

South side, that's them. Peter immediately feels as though he's going to be sick and by the look on his dad's face he's not alone. Once one half of the planet goes the other will surely follow. It's something they've all been expecting and planning for for years, but it's far, far too soon, they should have more time than this; they're not ready to go and the government's not even started the evacuation programme yet. His Nan shoots a look at his father from where she's sat in her armchair. It's a look Peter can't really read because there's something there that he subconsciously doesn't want to acknowledge.

'Earth?' Her voice is a thin whisper.

His father nods gravely. 'We got them Mum, the tickets came yesterday.' Peter's heart briefly lifts at the prospect, a longing that's deep and euphoric but then it crashes quickly. 'But...'

His Nan smiles but it doesn't reach her eyes. 'I know.'

Slowly, with growing horror, Peter understands. 'Wait,' he whips his head back and forth between the two of them, 'Nanny, where-'

'Don't worry, Peter,' she gets up and goes to kneel in front of where he's frozen in his chair, hands digging nails into the old material, 'I'll get on one of the other evacuation ships.'

'But you're not-,' his eyes burn and his voice is breaking but he doesn't look away, 'but you're not with us, why aren't you coming with us.'

'Oh Peter, my little Peter Pan,' she hugs him tight, pulling him in to her chest and he grips his hands in her shirt and tries to take in as much of her as he can.

'Mum we- we have to go.' Dad doesn't sound much better and before Peter can register much his Dad is hugging his Nan with a funny tight look on his face, then he's being pulled by the arm and out of the door, stumbling over his feet as he tries to keep up.

A terse shuttle bus later they get home to his mother already throwing their things into cases and boxes, haphazardly grabbing at e-frames and e-tabs to squash them and their memories safe under piles of their clothes. Peter could help, should help, but all he can do it sit numbly on the floor and cry whilst his life is collected and contained into a few measly bags. The rest will be left.

It doesn't take too long, thankfully, as Peter doesn't know what's worse, wanting to get this over with as fast as possible or wanting to stay and cling to the remnants of the only life he's ever known. As they make their way to the loading bays for the Earth-bound travellers he blearily finds himself thinking about what classes he'll miss in school tomorrow, but then he remembers Nanny and the ordeal starts anew as reality sets back in.

His parents are focused on more practical things.

They stand in line, their few pieces on luggage already being loaded on, and wait to board the ship they were assigned to only yesterday. His mother speaks under her breath, as if she is afraid to talk too loudly for fear of jinxing something. 'The Earth ships aren't even ready. They won't have enough food let alone rooms.'

His father shakes his head and slips his hand down to intertwine with hers. 'They must have known something like this could happen at any time, they've been predicting it for years. If anything, the rooms may not be ready but the agricultural sections will be.' He looks determinedly at the back of the head of the man in front of them and swallows. 'They only give out tickets if there's room. We'll be fine.'

Peter's mother glances his way meaningfully, and then back to his father.

'Jo, there're not enough ships; no one was ready in time. They can't have planned for everyone.' She bites the inside of her cheek, one hand on Peter's shoulder. Her fingers dig in, hard, but he doesn't try to shrug her off. He can barely feel it.

His father understands. 'She'll call us when she can.' Then, the line moves and they lurch forward together, huddled close.

Just before the door, where the tickets are being checked and where the din of the engines roaring into life starts to become uncomfortable, his father takes one last desperate look at out of the window at the distant domes of their colony, nestled in the dust. He taps an impatient rhythm against the tiled floor. 'She'll call.'

She never does.

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

Francis is three and his daddy has just left Mummy.

'He went to fight,' she says as she strokes his hair. This confuses him because fighting is bad and you're only allowed to fight if someone tries to fight you first and no one has been nasty to Daddy that he's seen.

Mummy doesn't answer but continues to stroke his hair, humming softly a tune she sings to him every night before bed that sounds old and sad and sleepy, so he just nods and rests his head heavily against her chest.

He doesn't see his Daddy again.

He is ten when he realises that there never was any war. The notion strikes him dumb one day in the kitchen as he distantly listens to the news playing through the announcer when he helps wash up after dinner. The announcer is speaking about something banal, a fashion show maybe, but Francis is staring out of the window and up at the sky, up at the stars that push through the daytime's thin atmosphere. He doesn't know what caused him to start this train of thought, but once it's started his brain quickly pieces together the puzzle that it has ignored all of this time.

At school they were taught about wars, about age old battles with guns and swords and metal where blood was spilt over land and the wealth it contained. But, there hasn't been any fighting here. He scrubs a glass, sponge squeaking against the side. And even if there was fighting somewhere far away, his dad would surely still be able to write or visit, or come back after all this time. And more importantly, if there was a war going on now then surely he would have learnt about it at school, rather than learning about age old political struggles on the human-ruined home world.

His mother takes the glass from his slack grip. 'Daydreaming?'

He shakes himself to and looks at her. Turned away and out of the window her face is suddenly older and oddly clearer than he remembers it being, she looks like a person rather than just his mother and that's a scary thought. It's as though the wash of childhood has momentarily slipped away and he's now aware of both it and the harsh brushstrokes of reality. She's a person and feels things, just like he does. So it hurts, that she lied, and it will hurt him for a long time because he doesn't know why but cannot for the life of him bring himself to ask her. Francis is good at reading people and he knows that this isn't something he should ask about, so turns back to the dirty dishes and doesn't.

When Francis is fifteen there is a war, of sorts. The planet nearest to them, the one they rely on the most for trade, switches governmental policies and refuses to continue their current agreements. This results in a breakdown of communication and heightened tension between the two colonies, each bristling angrily at the offence yet unwilling to be the first to initiate anything rash. There is minor rationing imposed upon Francis' planet until trade is re-established as well as a draft of specialisation training implemented, just in case. He's unaffected by the rationing; the draft is a different story. Just in case this trade block becomes permanent, his planet needs to be prepared to become fully self sufficient in everything from science, to food, to art, to the army.

The block stays in place and tensions rise. Against his wishes, Francis is assigned a scientific draft. He is now seventeen and knows he needs to be given something but he'd prefer agriculture or education to research, if he could have the choice, or the arts if he's allowed to dream. He isn't. He brain is good, his grades are high and thus he is far more useful to the cause working on the advancement of his planet than working to help feed it.

A few days after his birthday and a month after his posting letter arrives, his mother rides with him on a shuttle to his boarding station. He will try out four different areas: mechanics, medicine, biology, and physics, then he will be assigned to what he works with best, where he can produce the best work possible. But Francis can't think of anything worse than being stuck in a lab all day, shutters drawn and devoid of all personality. Even worse, he's heard the rumours that have managed to float back from those who have graduated and knows that once he boards this ship there's no escaping the life he'll be moulded into. The programme is four years long and then he will be placed into a job where he will stay until he dies. At twenty one he will have no other skills for work other than what he will acquire at the science facility, there is no swapping careers afterwards. He wants to do so much, there is so much that he loves to do, and with each passing shuttle stop his heart grows more frantic, fighting his brain which has accepted the inevitable.

He gets physics. He calls his mother to howl down the phone once, just once, before he realises the futility of doing so; nothing can or will change. Accept it.

At twenty, a year before his training would end, there is finally a truce. Trade resumes and Francis finally tastes sugar after five years but now, after so long, the taste is too much. Not fully qualified yet too old to be automatically accepted into another programme, Francis is in limbo. There isn't much point in him continuing his training, there are more than enough specialists now and not enough jobs to give them, so there isn't anything for him to do. It's odd, now that there is nothing to work towards he feels empty but at the same time everything is just too much. He returns home and his mother fusses and tries to talk to him, tries to get him to come out of his room and sit with her and he did, at first, but the longer he's home the shorter his resistance is and the longer the 'breaks' are in his room.

Emotions seem to be harder to process without a goal, that or he never had many to begin with and without something to distract him from that notion he's finally noticing how few he has. Either way, other people are small insignificant creatures who worry about such useless, banal things. Who did what, with who and where. Did you know, her son the doctor? Well, he's a you know what now and- ugh. Francis can no longer take it.

He doesn't really see this as a problem. He feels as though he's risen above other people and finally understands that such things are not worth his time; why worry, after all, about what job to get. Why worry about whether or not someone likes you. Every day, regardless of what they do, the planet will spin and the domes will reflect the same bleak, churning sky and Francis realises that he's trapped here, by this life and that his life means nothing. None of their lives do, it's all the same; nowhere new to go, nothing new to do. Pick a job, do the job. Come home, go back. Retire. Die.

So he sits in his room, because if he talks to his mother or to anyone else he is reminded that somehow he's supposed to care about it, that life here is supposed to matter to him just as it matters to everyone else. His mother will mention this or that and he'll have to either fake the responses she wants, or not and upset her and neither option sounds pleasing to him.

After years of monotony and training suddenly he is permitted to express again and it's like he's forgotten how, the parts rusty after all the disuse. There are too many emotions and he finds himself forgetting to use them or using the wrong ones because he can't do them automatically any more, for some reason, and reactions that call for an understanding of nuance are just lost to him. Very quickly everything is too much. Food, heat, depth, people, concepts, everything.

He hides away but then they stop becoming too much and they shrink and shrivel up and become nothing at all he can feel how empty he is. Nothing can fill the void he's got because he doesn't even know why it's there and he can scarcely tell that there's a problem in the first place. He does knows he's got a problem though, really, knows how serious it is by the way his mother watches him with fearful eyes and baleful glances. She tiptoes tentatively around the house, carefully softening her words and her gentleness feels like a pressure cooker slowly but surely building something that's going to get bigger and hotter and harder to make go away. She avoids talking about it, about how Francis feels or doesn't, and by doing so the problem is allowed to grow, unchecked. Francis doesn't have to act any more, doesn't have to pretend, and so the feelings of apathy grow and grow until they swallow him whole and all he can bring himself to do is sit and stare and the sky, a dark choking yellow.

It feels heavy to look at, like a lid covering everything in his life, all potential, all future, all growth. It just festers and sinks lower and lower still and he sits and watches it for days before he's realised he's done so.

When Francis is twenty-two, his mother breaks. Not that she herself breaks, but her patience does.

'I can't do this any more.' she says. There are tears on her face and Francis watches one slide off and fall onto her collar. 'You need to go.'

Francis appraises her properly, meeting her eyes. She flinches at his gaze but remains resolute in her decision, though her bottom lip quivers. 'There's nothing for you here, we both know that. You don't want to be here, so you need to go.'

'I don't want to be anywhere.' he replies.

She gives him a watery smile. 'I know. That's why, you might as well see if you can want to be somewhere else.' She lifts up her arm and shows him her e-tab, the translucent screen showing a brightly coloured ticket. 'I've bought you a flight. It's Earth, it was declared habitable a few weeks ago.'

Francis knows he should feel something, this is one of those instances when he knows that he should be feeling something but he can't quite imagine what emotion he should give her.

She doesn't seem to expect one. 'It's one way. And this, this is all of my savings, Francis.' Her eyes are wide and her face is suddenly so very very old. 'If you don't want to be any more, at least make that decision once you've seen this. You can't go without seeing this, after all. See this, see it for me and then you can decide, okay?'

Suddenly she looks shocked and runs forward to embrace him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and knocking her e-tab into his face. The garish purple of the ticket burns his eyes. 'Oh Francis.' She sobs into his shoulder and clutches tightly into his shirt. 'Oh Francis it's okay, you can cry if you want to.'

Oh.

He's crying.

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

Ludwig is six, and is sick again. The doctors don't know what's wrong with him; they know what's causing it at least but they have no idea why. He can't keep food down and every time he tries to stand the world pitches and swims and he can't keep his balance so he never manages to stay up for long before he bonelessly falls to the floor, where he feels no better.

It's the gravity, the doctors say, for some reason he's affected by the gravity. The artificial gravity that he's known all his life; it's as if he's just climbed aboard and his body suffers from relapses where it just can't acclimatise. Where it suddenly realises that something's not quite right and rebels against him for a week or so. This his family already knows, but his mother isn't satisfied with such a lacklustre answer so she takes him to a different doctor every time he suffers another attack just in case one of them is even marginally more competent than the last. These 'episodes', as his mother likes to call them, don't happen all that often, but he seems to have one every ten months or so and they are regular enough to annoy his mother to no end. Ludwig doesn't really know if she's annoyed that no one can fix him or with him himself, Gilbert won't say and normally his big brother talks to pretend that he knows something so his silence worries Ludwig the most.

Mother is a very important person with a very important job: she's a governor of the space station upon which they live and it is very important that Ludwig remembers this. So, when he's laying in bed clutching at his belly and desperately clenching his eyes shut to minimise the swaying, his friends at school think that he is away for a special training academy. Because can you just imagine, the governor of a space station's son being space sick?

His father doesn't like to call it that because he thinks it's degrading so his mother doesn't, when she thinks Ludwig can't hear, anyway, but Ludwig knows that's what the kids at school would say so he happily keeps mum because it's easier than lying. They don't talk to him much besides, they find him too cold and distant but that's because he's so scared of disgracing his mother further that he can't quite relax fully.

When Ludwig is thirteen his mother, after exhausting all doctors aboard their large floating colony, finally accepts that it's unlikely that this small problem of his is going to go away. Her way of dealing with it is to pretend that it just doesn't happen; during an attack Ludwig is sent to his room where he stays painfully alone with only his books for company whilst she busies herself with her new campaigns. She's running for director now, aiming as high as she can go and there's no room for weak, feeble Ludwig all the way up there.

His brother tries his best to keep him entertained and happy during these times, but Gilbert is healthy, strong, smart; he's everything that Ludwig should also be able to grow up to be and their parents have sent him off to expensive schools which means that he's more often away from home than not. Sometimes Ludwig wonders if they've sent him away because they want Gilbert to be the all around best he can be, or if it's to distance him as much as they can from Ludwig. It's almost as if they're worried that Ludwig will taint him, or that maybe Gilbert will grow too attached to him and distract himself from what's really important. That Ludwig will anchor him down.

At five years older it's highly unlikely that Ludwig will be the one doing the influencing, but his brother, despite hardly seeing each other and such a large age difference, does seem to genuinely care for him. During one particular attack, when Ludwig is eighteen, Gilbert is home from university; it is almost Christmas and his family are preparing to travel to where his grandparents live on the other side of the space station, where they'll spend the holiday. Of course, it is now that his body decides to betray him.

He, his parents, and his brother are gathered around the large dining room table finishing off dinner. It is tense. Mostly it is Gilbert who talks because despite their mother's cool demeanour and their father's lack of interest he seems to always have something to say to fill the silence and speaks easily. Even with the response he gets, or lack of it, he seems honestly unperturbed and remains cheerful, somehow managing to both eat and speak without seeming impolite. As much as he loves his brother, Ludwig is also supremely jealous.

He stares at his fork, contemplating which point in the evening would be best to ask if he could slip away, when his body decides for him. His stomach swoops, his ears pop and the table tilts alarmingly. He clenches the edge in panic to remain upright and the noise alerts his mother, who looks up from her dessert in irritation.

'Ludwig, we are going away tomorrow.'

'M- mother-'

His mother sighs and looks at his father, who sharply stares back. 'Dear?'

His father grunts and spears another forkful of fruit pie. 'They're expecting him to come.'

'But the photographers-'

'What do you want me to do, Hilda?'

Meanwhile, Ludwig has still not been dismissed and cannot now seem to find the words to ask for permission himself without spewing all over the fancy silverware. He doubts that that will make the situation better, somehow. Gilbert notices and stands, attracting his parents' attention.

'I'll take Luddy to his room.'

'Darling...' their mother tries to say something, but it's what she's trying not to say that comes across the loudest.

Gilbert ignores her and walks around the table, slowly helping Ludwig to his feet, then away from the table and swiftly towards a bathroom. They make it just in time. Gilbert pats him comfortingly on the back and rubs soothing circles into his shoulders until he's finished, then hands him a glass of water.

'So, they're still arseholes, huh?'

Ludwig snaps his head up in horror, but this is a bad idea because the image of Gilbert swims before him and he has to shut his eyes.

'Don't call them that.' He finally manages, weakly.

Gilbert tuts. 'What the fuck did they feed you with in order to churn your personality out.'

Ludwig lays his head on the cool tiles of the floor and groans inwardly at how nice the feeling is. 'They're not arseholes.'

'Yeah, and my name's Shirley.'

Ludwig cracks open an eye, but Gilbert's not joking. He is, for once, deadly serious. 'How'd you put up with them Lud?'

Ludwig shrugs and gives a small shake of his head. 'They're our parents, Gil. They still care for me. Besides, I'm not exactly making it easy for them.'

Gilbert looks disgusted. 'You're their fucking son, arsehole. They're supposed to take care of you. They ain't even doing that right are they?' Gilbert runs a hand through his shock of white hair and bits his bottom lip whilst he shakes his head. 'Look at how they treat you versus me.'

'Yes, but I'm not exactly-'

'But nothing!' Gilbert raises his voice slightly and swallows. When he speaks again, he's much quieter, back under control. 'Have they got you in a university programme yet?'

Ludwig's silence is answer enough and Gilbert sighs deeply before brushing back Ludwig's sweaty fringe. 'There's nothing wrong with you Lud.' His brother sounds so very sad. 'Fuck, there's nothing wrong with you at all. They know full well that if they put you on a planet rather than this floating heap of rust that you'll probably be alright. And have they? Have they fuck.'

Ludwig wants to argue against him, wants to say something to stand up for himself if not for their parents but his eyes are suddenly burning and his throat is choked up. He knew a long time ago that his parents had given up on him, but to hear it from someone else hurts more sharply than anything he tells himself.

There's an odd companionable silence for a while; Ludwig lays still with his face against the floor and his brother's hand carding through his hair so he almost misses what Gilbert says next.

'I was gonna wait till Boxing Day, but I've got us tickets for Earth.'

Ludwig tenses and holds his breath. Gilbert continues. 'I was gonna wake you up on the 26th and take you away with me, but I want to tell you now instead, cause you look like shit. We're gonna get out of here Luddy; I've always wanted to take you to a planet and what better one is there than the original, huh?'

'You, I- you can't- what about your studies? The internship you've got?' Ludwig manages to stammer out, opening his eyes.

Gilbert brushes his concerns aside. 'I never liked medicine, really. I've always wanted to go to a planet, so I'm mega up for it.'

Ludwig knows he should say no, knows that he shouldn't take up the offer. He'd be denying his brother so much, he'd be exactly what their parents worried he'd be because he'll only drag Gilbert down and down and down like a heavy lead weight and ruin all of his chances at a good life.

But Ludwig wants to be selfish. He reaches out and clasps onto Gilbert's hand, squeezing it tightly. 'Gil...'

Gilbert flashes him a grin and winks. 'I know, right? How awesome am I?'

#my writing #hetalia #aph #APH England #APH France #aph america #aph germany #aph prussia #aph sealand #aph canada #aph fruk #fruk #au #sci-fi #hws fruk #oh no what am i doing #something is cooking that's for sure

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zeump · 3 years

Text

i am working kinda half-assed today because I want to keep an eye on Jarryd so I just brought my laptop into the living room but its impossible to do my job efficiently on just one screen. I am determined to revise how I approach my work day going forward so I can really just stick to eight hours a day as much as possible, and take my breaks as well. I need this especially right now as I am still recovering but even going forward… I want to set an example for my coworkers that we should not be expected to work overtime in perpetuity as we have been for the last year and a half. Like yes we added some new people last year and I’m really grateful to management for that. We are STILL working OT though. Even like… some seasonal help to do just basic data entry tasks would honestly help a LOT with getting is back down to a regular 40-hour work week.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

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What we lost in the ashes

Warnings: noncon sex (oral, m&f, intercourse)

This is dark!Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: At her weekly grief counseling groups, the reader finds herself seeking support in strangers. Even the famous Steve Rogers. But is there more to his compassion than meets the eye?

Note: Okay so this is a one shot but it’s hella long (8800+ words). To anyone who has the energy, thank you for reading. I was gonna split it up but it just wasn’t making sense and I like it altogether. But without further ado...

Please let me know what you think in a reblog/reply! <3 please and thank you.

You walked out of the interview and cringed into your hands. Fuck. You were so worked up you fumbled over nearly every word. Even as you breathed and fought to steady yourself, it all tumbled out like water over the falls.

Two months and only three interviews. More than a dozen rejection emails, too. All of it piled up and left you senseless as you sat across from the interviewer. You already knew you didn't get the job. Another fuck up.

You checked your phone as you dragged your feet across the pavement. Well, the one positive was you might actually make it to your group meeting. You'd have to go straight there but you didn't relish the thought of being alone for the rest of the night.

Most days were spent alone since the snap. Since half of New York and the world disappeared. That was a year ago but the city still felt so empty.

Still, even an apocalyptic event could not lower the cost of living in New York. And without a job for two months, your rent looked even higher.

It was just past the hour when you got off the subway. You took the stairs two at a time and stumbled out onto the street. You held your purse to your hip and your thin folder of resumes to your chest. You jogged past fellow pedestrians and stopped out of breath before the centre.

Every Wednesday and Saturday. Most didn't make both meetings. They found other ways to cope. Other than listening; talking. The bars and strip clubs were the most successful businesses since the snap. Perhaps you should look into those.

You ducked through and your heels clicked on the floor. You rushed up to the second floor and did your best to tiptoe to the door. It was still open for latecomers. At the twenty minute mark, it would close.

As you came up, the stopper was kicked and you barely caught the door before it shut. A single voice filled the large space. Marnie was telling her story again. She was of the few who enjoyed talking.

"Wait," You whispered and dashed through the door. Steve looked down at you as you slipped through and you could see the surprise and disappointment in his eyes. He hated tardiness.

"Nice of you to show up," He kept his voice low.

*Sorry," You said and he waved you ahead of him.

"Grab a seat," He pointed to the folding chairs against the far wall and parted to retake his own among the circle.

You took a chair and carried it to the group. You set your stuff down on the floor and unfolded it over it. You sat and crossed your legs as you ignored the eyes of others and listened to Marni recounting the meal she made for her husband the day he turned to ash.

When she finished, Steve asked a few questions and tried to open the floor up to a discussion. That never really worked. He did most of the talking. The great Captain America was the spearhead of these meetings.

Dozens of these meetings were funded everyday by the Stark corporation as part of the Avengers recovery program. Yours had been the first: informal and arranged via Craigslist. A group of confused mourners left behind.

Then Steve expanded, reached out to others, and as time passed, more were willing to meet. There was a circle almost every night but you kept to your usual group. You knew each other, tolerated each other.

"Well, you guys are a talkative bunch tonight," Steve chided as he crossed his arms. "Dennis?" The man shook his head and Steve sighed. "How about you?" He looked to you, "What had you running behind?"

You pushed your shoulders back and looked around the circle. You were the only one who had never told their story. You tried once. Half a sentence before you walked out. But you liked listening and talking about others' experiences, not your own.

"I had an interview," You answered curtly. "Don't think it went very well though."

Steve nodded and dropped his arms. "How long has it been? A month?"

"Two," You corrected him. "And barely as many prospects."

"It's tough these days. Every day another business closes its door but we have to remember that just as many have a dozen desks empty and waiting. It just takes patience." He smiled. "There might be less of us now but it means that there's more for us too. In a way, the world's gotten so much bigger. Those of us left behind, we gotta make the most of what was left to us."

You swallowed your resent. You didn't need his empty encouragements. The man lived on Stark dollar and even in such a sad state, the corporation was profiting. And this Avenger, this hero, was still playing at saving the world one broken New Yorker at a time.

"So, any other interviews?" He asked.

You shook your head. You were done talking. He pressed his lips together as you dropped your eyes to your lap.

"Alright, then, Sal?" He cleared his throat.

"I went to the pound the other day," Sal began. He lost his dog in the snap. His husband too. "There was this dog there. Name was Lucky. Shepherd mix with floppy ears... I took him home."

"Wow, Sal, that's great." Steve said. "You know, that's real progress. What made you take Lucky home?"

"I'm not sure, I just looked at him and I knew." Sal sniffed and his chair creaked. "I'm tired of being lonely."

You kept your chin down as you listened. You played with the cuff of your brown tweed jacket. Perhaps the night would've been better alone. You looked up as you sensed movement.

Steve watched as you picked at the thick thread hanging from your sleeve. You stopped and uncrossed your legs and straightened in your chair. He smiled as you met his gaze and you turned to focus on Sal as he spoke. You could distract yourself from the negative in your bank account with the woes of others. It was always easier to dwell on problems not your own.

At the end of the meeting, everyone gathered around the table for the usual stale coffee and medley of snacks. You munched on the veggies and dip and took a bottle of water. You didn’t have much to eat at home and these meetings became a chance to fill up. You tossed your plate and waited for the others to filter out.

You decided to help clean up since you were late. You started to fold the chairs and replace them against the wall. The last was scooped up before you could grab it and Steve swiftly folded it and held it at his side.

“So…”

“Sorry I was late. Didn’t think I’d make it after the interview but...figured I’d try.” You shrugged.

“I’m glad you came, at least. That’s better than not.” He smiled. He carried the chair past you and put it with the rest. “Thanks. You don’t have to stay and help.”

“I know, but I should. I know you hate it when we’re late.”

“Oh?” The lines along his forehead deepened.

“That’s how,” You pointed to him. “The look.”

He chuckled and followed you to the table and began to clear the used paper plates and cups. You closed up the uneaten food and stacked the containers. You worked in silence.

“What was the interview for?” He asked suddenly.

“Um, oh, just data entry. But I kinda fucked that up.” You grumbled as he placed the containers on a cart.

“How so?”

“I just...couldn’t think. Or speak. I got three rejections this morning. Three. You think with all these people gone, the employment rate would sky rocket.” You helped him fold the table and set it with the chairs.

“And there’s no one to help? No one left?” He asked carefully.

“All the friends that didn’t disappear left the city.”

“And family?” He ventured.

You shook your head and looked away. You cleared your throat and retrieved your purse and folder from where you’d left them.

“Two months, eh? How are you...managing?” He redirected and you were thankful.

“Barely.” You shook your head and hooked your purse over your shoulder. “But I’ll have to figure it out. You...don’t have to worry about me.”

“I do.” He assured you. “This is a support group, right? We support each other here.”

You gripped the folder and stayed silent. He turned and grabbed a container from the cart. The last of the veggie tray. He opened it and added a few sandwiches from the one beneath.

“Here. Take em. Better than them going to the bin.” He held out the tupperware.

“I...can’t.” You shook your head.

“You can and you will.” He asserted and stepped closer. He nudged the folder with the container.

“I--”

“It’s not charity. It’s human decency. Take it.” He insisted. “Just bring the container back on Saturday, okay?”

“Alright,” You relented and accepted the food. “Th-thank you.”

“Not at all,” He reached into his back pocket and opened his wallet. You watched him, confused and mortified. He pulled out a small rectangle and offered the card between two fingers. “You need anything, to talk, or some help, you should give me a call.”

“Steve, I don’t think--”

“Look, you’re the only one who didn’t take a card. Sal’s been sending me pictures of his dog since he got him and Marnie shares recipes twice a day. You wouldn’t guess it but Dennis loves memes and Clara needs a designated driver more often than not. I’m here to help. It’s the least I can do.” He set the card on top of the container.

“Why?” You asked. “Why do you do this?”

“Because I’m selfish.” He said. “I don’t like being alone.”

You stared at the card and sighed. “Fair enough...I should go, I guess.”

“Yeah, uh, you need a ride?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” You assured him. “Besides, you’ve done enough.”

You kept the card in your purse but never took it out. You brought the empty container to Saturday’s meeting. Steve filled it again at the end and forced it into your hands. You protested but he was a hard man to deny. He asked about your job hunt and if you needed anything else. You assured him you were fine.

You left with your tupperware of pity food and returned to your walk-up. It was too big for just you anyway. You should just give notice and downgrade to one of the bachelor’s downtown. That felt wrong though. Like forgetting. Like running away.

You shoved the leftovers in the fridge and slept on the couch. You hadn’t slept upstairs in months. You couldn’t. Your bed was so cold; so unwelcoming. The top floor was empty and full of ghosts. Memories whispering in your ear.

Another meeting on Wednesday. The third of the month and only half the rent paid from the last of your savings. You didn’t listen and as usual, you didn’t talk. You were the first to leave as you resigned to say goodbye to your home.

A notice greeted you. Pay your rent in full by the tenth of the month or eviction proceedings would go forward. You ripped it off the door and retreated inside. It was the first time you were close to crying. The last year had been a numb blur.

You didn’t though. You wouldn’t. Not over a townhouse. That was nothing. You checked your phone and scrolled through your contacts. None of them still in the city, most of them not even on the planet. You stared at your wallpaper and hugged the phone to your chest.

You pulled your purse across the sofa and dug inside. It was just past nine. He’d still be packing up. You should’ve stayed to help. You took the card out from the zippered pocket and tapped it against your screen. Your finger moved slowly and the dial tone scared you. You waited.

“Hello?” Steve’s voice rose from the speaker. You gulped. “Hello?”

“Hey Steve, it’s...me,” You said awkwardly. “Sorry I didn’t stay to help.”

“It’s all good,” He replied after a pause. “I’m glad you called.”

“Yeah, I…” You sniffed and swallowed your words.

“You okay?” He filled the silence.

“Yeah...I just...wanted to apologize.” You lied.

“You sure you’re alright?” He asked again.

“...No. I’m getting evicted. I didn’t...I don’t have anyone else to call so...I called you.”

“I’m almost done here. I can stop by if you need company or…?” He offered.

You considered. You chewed your nail. You only wanted to talk but you weren’t so good at that anymore. It wouldn’t hurt to have company...as long as he stayed downstairs. It had only been you.

“Do you like beer?” He asked suddenly.

“Yeah, I don’t mind it. I...Steve, you really don’t have to.” You rubbed your forehead and huffed. “I’ll be okay.”

“But you’re not right now. So let me just make sure you will be, alright?”

“Fine,” You relented. “I’ll...text you the address.”

“Great,” He chimed. “I shouldn’t be long. See ya soon.”

“Yeah, see ya.” You hung up and dropped the phone. Why had you done that?

Half an hour later, there was a knock at the door. You were pacing the foyer when it filled the empty space. You stopped short and marched to the door. You took a breath and opened it. Steve smiled as he held up a six pack of cans.

“Hey, kinda worried you might fall asleep on me,” He greeted.

“No, I don’t really--Come in.” You stepped back to let him through. “Just in there.” You pointed to the living room. “Sorry, I don’t have much to offer.”

“That’s fine. There’s leftovers in the car if you’re peckish.” He offered as he stepped through. He shed his jacket and folded it over the arm of the sofa.

“Not very hungry.” You watched him sit on the sofa. The pillow and blanket were neatly stacked on the chair. “Didn’t take you as a beer person. Figured it wouldn’t really...appeal to your sensitivities.”

“Yeah, doesn’t really give me a buzz but it’s more a nostalgic thing, you know?” His eyes glided across the eviction notice on your coffee table and he slipped a can from the six pack. “Here.”

“Uh, thanks,” You took it tentatively and cracked it as he grabbed one of his own. “I...you didn’t have to come. I feel bad.”

“Don’t. I wouldn’t if I didn’t want to.” He assured you. “Well, you gonna sit or hover around me like a bird all night?”

“Sorry,” You neared and sat on the cushion next to him. You took a gulp and winced at the grainy alcohol. You preferred wine.

“You seemed...off at the meeting. I was worried.” He said. “So, how bad is it?”

You stared at him. You set down your beer and swiped the notice off the table. You crumpled it up and tossed it. “Well, I can’t afford my rent which means I can’t afford first and last for even a one-room shithole, so...a couple weeks from homelessness.”

He took a drink and thought. He leaned an elbow on his knee and looked around. “Pity. It’s a nice place.”

“Yeah. A lot of room for one person though.” You grumbled. “Figure I’ll go to the shelter till I can get a job and--”

“How much?” He asked abruptly. You tilted your head and flinched. “What?”

“How much is the rent?”

“Steve, no. I don’t need this place. I should’ve gotten rid of it months ago--”

“The support program offers financial support. I can put your name in. A few of the others have already taken advantage of it. Sal’s getting his first vet visit for Lucky covered and Marnie...Well, if you ever looked at any of the literature I put out, you’d know all this.”

“Really, I...didn’t even think of that. I…” You sat back gripped your head. “Shit. Okay, yeah, put my name in. I...Steve, thank you.”

“No problem. It’s what the group is for. I just need your rent statement and I can fill out all the rest. Real easy process.” He assured.

“Oh yeah,” You stood. “Let me just hunt it down.”

You went to the kitchen and stirred around in your drawer of bills. You looked over as Steve stood and sipped from his beer. He looked around at the empty shelves and vacant walls. He paced the room and sat back down as you found the right statement. You approached as he dug around in the couch and placed the paper on the table in front of him.

“There’s something…” He grunted and pulled out his hand. He gripped a small doll with messy blonde hair. Long lost in the depths of your sofa. He looked at it curiously. It was the type you got in Happy Meals. “Uh, here.”

He handed you the Barbie and you took it shakily. “Statement’s there,” You said quietly and turned away.

You shoved the doll under the counter and sat back down. You took a deep swig from the beer. Your phone vibrated on the table as Steve took the bill and folded it into his jacket pocket. He looked over as your phone buzzed and you scooped it up. You swiped away the notification and locked it quickly. It was too late; he’d seen it.

He nodded and clasped his hands together as he thought. You emptied the can and clinked it back on the table.

“You had a daughter?” He asked. You nodded and took another beer from the pack. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” You opened the beer and drank again. “Not your problem.”

He was quiet for a moment. He finished his beer and sighed. “Why do you come to group if you don’t want to talk about it?”

“Because it makes it easier. It’s a distraction. A reassurance that I’m not the only one.” You shrugged. “I told you, this place is too big for just me.”

His blue eyes clung to you as you avoided looking at him. You sipped from the metal rim and held in a belch. “Thanks for the beer but...you don’t have to stay.” You stood and gathered the empty cans. “Let me know about the financial program. I have till the tenth to figure it out.”

“Will do,” He stood and grabbed his jacket. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“I’m good.” You assured him. “Really. You’ve done too much already.”

“Right. Have a good one.” He pulled on his jacket and backed away.

“Don’t forget the beer.” You made to grab it and he shook his head.

“Keep it.” He waved you off. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

“Yeah, sure.” You followed him to the door. “Thanks again.”

Steve called you on Monday to tell you the good news. You were approved for two months rent. The payment was completed directly and as always your receipt arrived in your inbox. It was a relief. And two interviews in one week! Things were starting to look up.

And then you got another call. You got a job and your training started on Wednesday. You messaged Steve the good news and thanked him for his help. You also broke the news that you wouldn’t me MIA at the meeting that night.

It was a simple job; proofreading. Enough to pay the bills. Training would be for a week and then you’d be in the swing of things. Soon enough, Saturday’s meeting swung by and Steve was all too happy to congratulate you. That night, you talked about your new job. You still didn’t mention her though.

As had become your habit, you stayed to put everything away. Steve offered some leftovers and you assured him you were able to afford your groceries now. You took them anyway; lunch for Monday. You folded the table and looked around the empty room.

“So, you wanna celebrate?” He asked.

“Hmm?” You buttoned your coat. The fall air was growing brisker. Winter was just around the corner. Another Christmas alone.

“The job. A drink? Maybe a proper dinner?”

“Right now?” You wondered.

“Sure, why not? You don’t work tomorrow, right?”

“No,” You admitted. “You don’t have to--”

“I hate it when you say that. You ever think I want to?” He smiled.

“My treat,” You insisted. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Alright. You don’t have to twist my arm,” He accepted. “There’s a place just down the street.”

“Sure.” You smiled. You didn’t do a lot of that.

It was a small place. Homey, even. There were board games on shelves along the wall and the low coffee tables were lined by cushy sofas and chairs. They served cocktails, both hot and cold, and the food was rustic but uptown.

You got a salad and an alcoholic latte. You’d regret the espresso later. Steve got a stout and corned beef sandwich with fries. You played crazy eights until he admitted ultimate defeat. You laughed and ordered a second round.

“So, how’s the job so far?” He asked.

“Training still but it’s nice. Everyone’s friendly.” You replied.

“That’s good. Always good to work with people you like.”

“Uh, yeah. I...can I ask you something?” You ventured.

“Sure. You don’t ask much.” He sipped from his pint and waited.

“I never really thought of it but...you still do the whole Captain thing or is it just the groups now?”

“Well...if they really need me, I’ll pick the shield up again but for now, I guess I’m just trying to live.” He rubbed his temple. “Didn’t do a lot of that before all this.”

You nodded. You rubbed your palm with your thumb as you thought. “How do you start over? Can you? I don’t think...I can.”

“You don’t. You carry on.” He said solemnly. “Not really a choice there.”

“Yeah,” You took a drink and wiped the foam from your lips. “I guess you’re right.”

“Can I ask you something now?” He leaned forward as his fingers tapped along the edge of the coffee table.

“I suppose,” You cupped your mug between your palms.

“Do you think you’ll ever talk about her?” His voice was quiet, gentle. “Cause I think you should.”

“Jesus, Steve, this isn’t a support group.” You hissed. Your hair stood on end and you set your mug down.

“Just a question.” He raised his hand defensively. “That’s all.”

“I’m sorry, I...For once, I wasn’t thinking about her and...I don’t know.” You sat back and folded your hands together on your lap.

“It’s okay. I get it.” He said. “So...if this isn’t a support group, what is it?”

You looked at him. You felt as if you’d been slapped. That was a good question and you had no answer.

“Maybe...it was a mistake,” You stood and grabbed your purse.

“What? Wait.” He rose as you took your jacket from the back of the couch. “No, don’t. It was only a question.”

“Look, Steve, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I really appreciate everything you’ve done. You’re great for the group and all but...that’s all this is.” You pulled on the faded tweed and buttoned it clumsily. “This isn’t the world to get attached in. This was a thank you, that’s it. I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise.”

You spun and headed to the counter. You paid the bill as Steve hovered behind you. You turned back and he neared.

“I wasn’t trying to push you. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, okay? This was just...a mistake.” You gripped your purse and swayed nervously. “Have a good night, Steve. I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

“Will you?” He countered.

“Yeah, I will.” You assured him as you stepped around him. “See ya.”

“See ya,” He said quietly and you felt him watching you as the door rang to signal your exit. Maybe you could switch for Wednesday night and avoid the inevitable awkwardness.

Sunday morning. You woke tired from a restless night. You stretched and made your way to the kitchen. Every day you drank your coffee at the counter and scrolled through the news. As you sipped, your phone buzzed. You picked up as your work number flashed in your face.

“Hello?” You greeted in confusion.

“Hey, it’s Mark.” The cheery manager sang from the other end.

“Oh, um hi?” You gripped your mug in your other hand.

“Yeah, I was just calling because...I have some bad news. We uh, had our quarterly this morning and well, our new hires are unfortunately...no longer hires.”

“What?” Your heart dropped. “Are you--Am I fired?”

“I’m sorry,” He said. “I’d really love to keep you on but it’s just not fiscal for the company.”

“Well, thank you? I guess.” You hit end and slammed the phone down. How in the fuck did you get fired mid-training? Only you.

Back to the job boards. The endless applications and pointless competency quizzes. Not even a whole week. Not one. You were fucking useless. In another month, you wouldn’t even be able to answer the emails or calls for interviews. All your eggs had been in one basket and they’d just been dumped all over the floor.

Wednesday came around and you didn’t bother getting off the couch. Saturday too. You waited for any response from potential employers and sank further into self-pity. Steve called both nights. You deleted his messages without listening to them.

On Monday, you were having your post-nap nap as a knock came at the door. It couldn’t be the landlord, it wasn’t the first and you hadn’t betrayed your lack of funds just yet. It sounded again and you dragged yourself from the couch, blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

You opened the door a crack and sighed at Steve. He had a large paper bag in his arms and his usual smile on his face. You should’ve known you couldn’t run.

“Hey,” You muttered.

“You’ve been hiding.” He said. “Figured I’d come find you.”

“You really can’t take a hint, can you?”

“Never been good at subtlety. So…?” He tilted his head. “Kinda chilly out here.”

“Fine,” You let the door fall open and backed away as he entered. You closed the door behind him and he set the bag down on the table beneath the line of hooks. “So...you too good for us now that you’ve got a job?”

“Hah,” You scoffed. “I got fired. So no. Not good enough.”

“Shit,” He frowned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“What’s all this? Why are you here?” You pointed to the bag. “Are you always this stubborn?”

“Are you?” He retorted. “It’s an apology, okay? A nice gesture. I know those are foreign to you but hey, we missed you at the meetings. Even Dennis asked about you.”

“Dennis?” You rolled your eyes.

“You’re not invisible. You didn’t disappear that day.” He slipped out of his jacket and hung it on a hook as he kicked off his boots. “You’re still here.”

“Unfortunately.” You mumbled.

“Look, it’s my job to support you. And if you won’t come to the meeting, then I’ll just bring it to you.” He grabbed the bag and walked through to your kitchen. You followed with a sneer. “So, take a seat because we’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

After that night, you went to the meetings again. Anything to keep Steve off your back. You were not one to spurn kindness but you didn’t need his pity. Plus he insisted on driving you once you protested that the subway was not worth the change. He had a counter to everything you said.

The job hunt ran dry a month after flopping at the proofreading gig. Your phone was ready to go off grid and your internet would be shut down soon enough. You still had a half month left until rent was due, the last being covered by Stark Industries. You’d have to ask Steve if you could apply again.

It was embarrassing. Especially at the meetings. Everyone else was doing just fine. Dennis seemed more content now that he had stopped drinking, Marnie started teaching foods classes down at the youth centre, and Sal and Lucky were as happy as any owner and pet could be. And there you were, hopeless.

It was a Saturday. You helped Steve tidy up. You were as quiet as you were in the meeting. You cleared the table, folded chair, and he packed up the usual tupperware for you. You were at a blockade. You felt stuck. Helpless.

“What’s up?” Steve asked as he zipped up his coat. The city was bracing for its first snowfall as the air turned bitter.

“Nothing,” You tucked the container under your arm. “Tired.”

“I think I know a good cure for that.” He joked.

You grumbled and headed for the door. He followed. He locked the door behind him and pushed the cart to the small office at the end of the hall. He’d leave the rest of the food in the fridge their for the centre’s employees to pick at. You weren’t the only one living off of grief crackers.

“I can’t afford to sleep,” You huffed.

“You know, I’m always here to help. Offer stands regardless of how many times you ignore me.” He chided.

“You’ve done too much already.” He really had. It was starting to irritate you how much he was around. How helpful he was. Even through the bullshit of this world, he was the golden saviour.

The tension rose between you. You were quiet throughout the ride. You just wanted to lay on your couch and ignore the world. You were so close to done.

Steve pulled up and you lazily grabbed your purse. You grabbed the door and he shifted the car into park.

“Hey, before you go…” He reached into his jacket. “I want you to have this.”

He pulled out the envelope and handed it over. “Consider it an early Christmas present.”

“Early? Like a month early?” You eyed it suspiciously.

“Tis the season,” He slapped it against your hand. “Go on.”

You sniffed and took the envelope. You opened it slowly and pulled out the card with a snowman on the front. Inside was a cheque. Enough to cover you for another month. Rent and bills.

“No,” You closed the card and shoved it back in the envelope. “I can’t. This isn’t a gift. It’s too much.”

“Come on. I’m just tryna help you out,” He said. “You can’t just run from everyone.”

“I can, I can.” You snapped. “Because everyone left me. Do you understand? This...I don’t have anything for you, Steve. And I’ll never be able to pay you back, so stop.”

“It’s a present.” He insisted.

“You’ve given me enough. Really.”

“Then it’s a loan. I’m a patient lender, but I won’t just watch you give up. I know you wouldn’t be at group if I didn’t drag you there. You’d already be in a shelter. Don’t let go of what you have left just because it isn’t everything you wanted.”

You sighed. You bent the envelope and stared at it. You looked up at your townhouse and shook your head. “A loan. I will find a way to pay you back. I promise.”

“Alright. A loan.” He agreed. “Low interest, yeah?”

You raised a brow.

“A smile?” He chanced. You rolled your eyes and leaned back in the seat. You cracked a cheesy smile and he laughed. “Alright. You’re free for the night.” You opened the door and stepped out. “Wednesday. It’s our Thanksgiving meeting. Marnie’s making the turkey.”

“Wednesday,” You assured him. “I’ll bring a pie.”

Wednesday came quickly. There was a warmth to the meeting that harkened the season. Last year, none of your group celebrated Thanksgiving. This year, you all had a hand in the modest dinner held at the rec centre. Your pumpkin pie would make a good dessert after Marnie’s main course. Dennis brought the sprouts, Sal potatoes, Clara a casserole, and the rest added several other dishes to the spread.

Steve was beaming. You all sat around the table for your meeting. Your usual tense discussion dissipated to casual chatter. Almost as if nothing had changed. As if nothing was gone. You listened, content to enjoy the food, and caught yourself smiling at the scene. She would’ve like this.

You frowned and chewed slowly. You’d have to clear out her room soon. The walk-up was too much. You had held onto it for far too long. You took another bite and caught Steve peeking over at you. You tried to smile and looked away.

“Lucky would love to be here but I won’t have him flipping his stomach again. We had chicken last week and well, he’s a sneaky bugger.” Sal boomed to Marnie. “He’s doing well. The incision’s healing up nicely but this Christmas is gonna be a bit...cheap.”

“Oh yes, vet’s are not easy on the wallet,” Marnie added. “I remember when I said goodbye to Rosie. Such a sweet cat. Even got her cremated.”

“So, Sal,” Steve leaned around Marnie and you thought. You considered Sal’s harmless story but something caught in the back of your mind. It was nothing. You were paranoid. “Christmas, you said? You’re celebrating this year?”

“Well...I thought maybe. My sister and I, we’re the only ones, a cousin too. My sister...she had a baby. She was pregnant when it happened. I’ve been too afraid to see the baby but...I’m tired of thinking about death.” Sal said. His eyes sparkled. “Yeah, it’ll be nice.”

“You know, the last time I made a meal for someone else was that day.” Marnie began. “For my husband. I only cook for me now so...thank you all for letting me cook for you.”

A hubbub of thanks went up from the table. Marnie dabbed her eyes and so did Clara. Dennis sniffed into his cuff. You leaned back and looked along the table. Despite taking so much, the snap had brought you all together. Your little clan of strangers.

You wiped your face and stood. “Excuse me.” The others gave you a short glance but Steve didn’t look away as you retreated. You slipped down the hall and into the bathrooms. You locked the door and leaned against the sink.

You took out your phone and swiped through your contacts. You hit your mother’s number and waited for it to dial. After a dozen rings, it went to her voicemail. You listened to her pre-recorded greeting. She never answered. She couldn’t. It was all you had left of her. You looked in the mirror and hung up.

You tucked away your phone and pushed yourself from the counter. Your eyes burned but you sniffed back the tears. You hoped wherever they were, they were together. You took one last look in the mirror and braced yourself for your return.

You weren’t surprised to find Steve in the hall.

“You alright?” He asked.

“Yeah,” You shrugged. “Nature calls, you know.”

“Mmm,” He grumbled, “Just making sure.”

“Yeah, fine.” You said. “Better get back before they eat all the pie.”

Christmas Eve. Instead of wrapped boxes, there were moving boxes. Your holiday was spent packing. You couldn’t put it off any longer. The only bite you had got was a three-week pop up shop in the mall selling candles. That ended a couple days ago, right after you’d given notice. There was a smaller place, just downtown. Louder, grimier, lonelier.

The only room left was hers. You avoided it as you enjoyed your discount bottle of wine on the couch. A single lamp lit up the space as you listened to the empty street and the soft fall of snow. She would’ve loved that. A white Christmas.

At the last meeting, Steve arranged a secret Santa and another feast. You kept up your attendance only for the fact that he was your ride. He insisted on it. The few days you had tried to deny him, he threatened to sit on your stoop and miss is as well.

Despite his good intentions, his presence was turning to a nuisance. He was the ghost of Christmas past, haunting you, reminding you of what was lost.

But how could you deny him. You owed him everything you had. His cheque had kept you off the street and fed. And you had nothing in return. That was what the wine was for. To forget. To erase the ledger in your head.

You were on your second glass and halfway into your book when the knock came. It was already dark out. Just after seven. It could only be one person. You weren’t prepared for him. You thought he’d be nestled in the compound with his little family of heroes. At least, that’s what he told you.

You dragged yourself to the door. You could see his outline through the frosted slats of glass. You sighed and unlocked it. He smiled as you greeted him with a mutter. His cheeks were rosy from the cold, a beanie over his golden hair, and a fleece lined collar as his chin. He held a large black bag and a bottle of wine.

“Steve, I told you, I wanted to be alone.” You huffed.

“Not on Christmas Eve,” He asserted, “Have you eaten?”

You squinted. He knew you hadn’t. He knew you too well.

“Liquid dinner,” You assured him.

“Oh, so you started without me,” He smirked. “I kinda smuggled this out of Tony’s stash.”

“You really shouldn’t be here,” You said and leaned on the door. “Go back to your friends and enjoy your holiday.”

“You know, they’re not a very festive group,” He remarked. “It’s just dinner.”

He knew you couldn’t say no. Not after all he had done. You stepped back and waved him inside wordlessly.

“Just dinner. Then you go.” You closed the door.

“Well, I brought dessert, too.” He countered.

“Steve,” You warned.

“Alright, alright,” He chuckled as he set the bag down and untied his boots. “Merry Christmas, I guess.”

You ate in silence and finished off the bottle of wine. Without your dining table, you sat on the couch and used the coffee table instead. It was a lousy excuse for a dinner.

Steve opened the second and you rubbed your temples as your head turned fuzzy. Your tongue was thick and sour from the alcohol. You were tired. Annoyed. You wanted to be alone.

“So, you’re moving?” He asked as he poured you a fourth glass. “You didn’t say.”

“You didn’t ask.” You crossed your arms. “I can’t afford this place.”

“But you will be able to. The fund--”

“The fund.” You spat. “Steve, come on. I’m not an idiot.”

“What do you--”

“I can connect the dots, you know? Sal didn’t get any help to pay for Lucky’s shots or his surgery. He said as much at Thanksgiving.” You shook your head. “I thought I could pretend to but I don’t want any more of your help.”

He was silent. He nodded to himself and drank from his glass. “How long have you known?”

“Long enough.” You hung your head. “I guess I didn’t want to accept that I was that pathetic, but I still took the money, didn’t I?”

“I just wanted to help. To do the right thing,” He set his wine down and turned to you.

“Yeah, well I can’t pay you back. I got nothing. I spent my last ten dollars on the wine.” You hissed. “I don’t want anymore charity...and I want you to go.”

You stood, unsteadily. You clung to the arm of the sofa as you tried to shrug off the head rush.

“You’ll find something. It’s fine. I’m patient.” He assured you. He didn’t move as he watched you round the coffee table. “And…”

His voice trailed off and he leaned back. His blue eyes sparked as he thought. You stopped and faced him across the coffee table. “What?”

“You don’t have to pay me back in kind. There are...other options.” He leaned forward with his arms on his knees. “I have enough money.”

You stared at him. Your mind was tainted from the wine. You weren’t understanding him.

“The candle shop might get a permanent space in the mall, I could re-apply. I’ll figure it out.” You said.

“No, I don’t want your money,” He insisted. He slid forward on the couch as he looked up at you.

“What do you want?” You whispered.

“You know what I want,” His voice was low, chilling.

“Get out.” You snarled. “Now.”

He laughed but didn’t move. “Funny. Shouldn’t I be the one telling you to get out? Seeing as I paid the rent and all.”

“Fuck you.” You snapped. “And fuck your money. Fuck you’re stupid group. I want you gone. For good.”

“It’s too late for that. And I know you don’t have my money so...I mean, I don’t really see the issue here. I’m really just doing you another favour.” He grinned. “You’re lonely, I’m lonely, it only seems natural.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? How many times can I tell you no?”

“And how many times did you say yes? Hmm? You took the money, you took the food, take, take, take, and no give.” He leaned back and rubbed his thighs. “I’m really not asking for much and I doubt your landlord or the next will settle for anything less than a dollar sign so…”

Your stomach sank and your legs trembled beneath you. You looked around at the bare walls and stacks of boxes. This place was a ghost of what it once was, like the rest of the world. Like you. Like this man in front of you. Captain America no more. Just another man.

“Did you know this place already has a new tenant?” He asked. “Quite a steal in this market. Nice place, nice location…” Your mouth fell open as you gaped at him. “And that little shit hole you got above the pizza joint...it’ll be a pity if they have a grease fire and it spreads. Shit, it might even get that little bookshop next door.”

“I--you’re fucking crazy.” You slurred.

“I’m a nice fucking guy.” He countered. “You don’t even have to sleep on the couch.”

“I don’t…” You were dizzy. The wine blurred your vision and your gripped your head. “No, you can’t.”

“It’s done. Place is mine, I’ve got eyes on the pizza joint, and most of all,” He inhaled as he puffed himself up, “You’re mine.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re the ones left behind.” He said. “So...you need more wine or can we get started?”

You were numb. Tingling with doom. The walls slanted around you and flames licked along your flesh. You wiped your sweaty palms on your flannel pajama pants and shivered. Your vision narrowed to a tunnel and all you could see was Steve. His victorious smirk. His blatant arrogance.

You found your strength at last. Rather, weakness. Fear. You edge around the coffee table as he watched. When you neared, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you between his knees. He gripped your hips and played with the hem of your loose tee.

He drew you closer until you were forced onto his lap, legs bent around him as he leaned back. His hands ran along your sides and he pulled you to him. His hand snaked up around your neck and urged you against him. He tilted his head up to press his lips to yours. You closed your eyes and bided his touch.

He held you to him, his other hand slipped beneath your shirt. His fingers tickled as they brushed against your stomach. He covered your breast with his hand and purred into your lips. He shoved his hand beneath your bra and played with you. He rolled your nipple between his finger and opened his mouth, his tongue begging for entrance.

You parted your lips and his hand fell from the back of head. He gripped your hip and guided you. He moved your pelvis against his until you carried the motion. You felt his excitement as it was restrained against his jeans. You hated the thrill it inspired in you. The glimmer you had not felt in so long. The base and carnal need.

He pulled away and gasped. He untangled his hand from your bra and pushed your shirt up your torso. You looked to the ceiling and lifted your arms. The bitter taste of surrender mixed with his spit. Just as quickly, he unclasped your bra and it joined your tee on the floor. You dared to look at him as his eyes drank in the sight of your nudity.

You held back the shudder and he touched you again. He pushed your tits up and together. He leaned forward and took your nipple between his lips. Nibbled softly with his teeth as you felt the pluck deepen. He groaned and hummed as he buried his face in your chest.

“God,” He fell back. He was flush and his eyes were dark. He reached between your legs and unbuttoned his fly. His fingers grazed along your pajamas and tickled your vee as he did. “On your knees.”

He nudged your leg and you slowly backed off of him. Your hands shook as you watched him unzip his jeans and he lifted his pelvis as he rolled both denim and briefs down his ass. His cock sprang out and he sat back with a sigh. You blinked and lowered yourself to your knees.

You got closer and gripped his leg as you tried not to tip. You were suddenly very sober but still unsteady. Your body moved clumsily of its own accord. Your hand slid along his thigh, past the top of his jeans and shyly touched his cock. You pressed your palm to the soft skin and wrapped your fingers around him. He groaned and shivered.

You stroked him and he spread his arms across the back of the couch. He sank into it. Your couch. As easily as he embedded himself into your life. This man had taken hold of everything you had. Of you. And here you were, paying him your keep.

You kept your hand moving as you gathered the saliva in your dry mouth. You leaned in and opened your lips along the head of his cock. You closed your eyes. His breathing hitched as you took him in your mouth. You pushed your tongue against his shaft as you let him deeper, still holding his shaft tightly.

As you lips met your hand, you began to bob your head. The task was easier as your spit dribbled down his shaft and you worked his length. His thick fingers ensnared your wrist and tugged it away. He slipped deeper and prodded at your throat. You struggled to breath as you let him further and you took as much as you could before pulling back. You kept your motion steady. You wanted it over.

He held your hand to his thigh. His purred as you sucked him, the sounds of slick flesh against flesh filled your ears. You gulped and gagged on him as he urged you on with whispered words. You sped up as you sensed his peak rising.

His hand left yours and he grasped the back of your head. He held you down as he twitched and you struggled to breath as he emptied himself down your throat. His cum was warm and salty. You swallowed it and he let go.

You sat back and wiped your mouth. You couldn’t look at him. He reached out to move your hand and dragged his thumb along your bottom lip, still wet with his cum. You flinched away and he grabbed your wrist. He pulled you up as he stood. He was strong.

He released you and shoved your pajamas down your waist. You were almost bowled over by the force of it. Your panties followed and freed them from your ankles as you wobbled around him. He ran his hands along your legs as he stood and snaked around to squeeze your ass.

“Turn around,” He leaned down as he spoke and nuzzled your hair. He pinched and backed away.

You did as he said and his hands settled on your shoulders. He turned you and guided you to the couch. You lifted your knees onto the cushions as your legs hit the edge and he led you til you were against the back of it. He traced the lines of your back and his fingers left you tingling.

You heard him move behind you. You peeked over your shoulder as he pulled his shirt over his head. You turned back and braced yourself. You pushed your thighs together and cringed at the wetness you felt between them. You waited, the rustle of his clothing the only noise aside from his heady breaths. Eager. Excited. Enthralled.

He touched you again. His hands warm along your shoulders and back. He explored the curve of your waist and hips. Edge along your ass and thighs before pressing closer. His cock prodded you and you tried to inch away from him. You were trapped.

He brought his knees up beside yours on the couch and you felt the heat radiating from him. His hand moved between you as he guided his cock along your ass. You gripped the back of the couch and tensed as the tip of his dick glided along your folds and back to your entrance. He dipped his head down next to yours. He kissed your neck as his other hand fondled your chest.

You gasped as he pushed inside. Just a little and you were stunned. He was thick and enough to make you wince. Yet, it felt good to be touched. Even by him. He went deeper and you groaned. He pulled out and thrust back in. Just a little. He took it a little at a time. Another inch and he thrust. Testing you. Your body. Your limits.

When he bottomed out, you whined. He nibbled at your neck and his hand stretched across your throat. He ran his nose up along your jaw and cheek and his hot breath singed your skin. He thrust slowly, your entire body rocked by his motion. His little moans filled your ears you bit down to keep your own from escaping.

His pace mounted steadily. His breaths were ragged as the sound of your pussy clinging to him mingled with the clap of flesh. His other hand covered your vee and he dipped two fingers between your legs. He swirled along your clit and you flinched. You squeaked and he repeated the motion. He kept on til you were mewling and your thighs shook around him.

“It’s okay to enjoy it,” He rasped. “You should. You don’t have to be alone.”

You shook your head and squeezed your neck tighter. Your back arched deeper as he slammed into you over and over. Your ass stung and you felt the spring winding tighter. You grunted as you tried to fight the sudden whirlwind.

Your drunkenness loosened your tongue and you cried out as you came. You quivered and dug your nails into the couch.

Steve’s hand slid from your neck and around your waist. He lifted you and turned in a single motion. He sat on the couch as he kept you atop him. His hands went to your hips and he guided you up and down his cock. Your back ached as he used your body easily.

His voice grew louder and louder as he kept you moving. Faster and faster. You were dizzy and out of breath. He roared and pulled you down on him completely. A warmth bloomed inside you as he came and he rocked into you from below; small, spasmic thrusts.

He stopped you as he panted and wrapped his arms around you. He pulled you back to rest against him. Still inside you.

“You can start again,” He said as his fingers crawled along your stomach. “We can start again. Here. A new life…” He stretched his hand over your skin as your blood ran cold. “A new family.”

#dark!steve rogers #Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!fic #fic #dark fic #darkverse #dark!verse #au #mcu #marvel #one shot #captain america

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synthsizedproductions · 3 years

Text

Short #1: Life Debt

CW: Strong language, abuse of power, cat attack

Have I told you the one about how I got my first pet? No? Oh, you’re in for a treat.

I lived a pretty normal life back then. Just a high school kid with a dead-end job, absent parents, and more mental instabilities than the whole of the Glennbrook Institution. You can bet I’m glad that madhouse didn’t exist when I was that age. The stories that come outta there…Tales for another time, eh?

Anyway, I walked everywhere because damned if I could afford gas. Or a car. Or a bike. Like I said, dead-end job. On top of that, my parents decided since I had a job, I should pay rent and shit. They said it was to teach me “responsibility” and “frugalness”. You know what it actually taught me? Landlords are dicks. Remember that lesson, kid. It’ll come in handy. Trust.

So, I’m walking to work. It’s this little shithole office with gray walls, gray carpets, and gray people. It didn’t help that the place was poorly lit. When I first started working there, I came in with a smile and a goofy bowtie covered in purple rubber dupkies. I thought it would make a good icebreaker with my new co-workers, and maybe I could make some friends for once. All I made was a scene when the boss man flipped his shit about it being loud and distracting. Good thing I need the job more than I wanted to sock that ass right in the nose. Now I learned that bosses were dicks, too. Another solid lesson.

Hm? What’s this got to do with my first pet? Gimme a minute, kid. Geeze. You first years are so impatient.

Anyway, so, I’m walking to work when I hear a cat screaming. Sounded like a fight. Normally, I wouldn’t bother investigating that kinda thing, but something didn’t sound right. Like, this fight wasn’t gunna be a fair one. I glanced at my watch. I was ahead of schedule. There was no way this would take longer than a few minutes. Just had to scare off a couple of cats, maybe a street dog or something.

So, I round the corner and that’s when I realize there weren’t just two cats facing off back there. It was a whole mess of cats, dozen or so, ganging up on this scrawny tabby cat who they had cornered between two buildings. These cats were mad. I had no idea what that one cat had done to piss off a whole colony, but I was certain it wasn’t going to survive this encounter.

I was considering booking it when the cat’s eyes locked on mine. One was blue, the other green. I could see how scared it was. Pits, I could almost feel how scared it was. My survival instincts, what few I had, disappeared and all I could think of was rescuing the tabby cat. I barreled my way through the crowd of felines, scooped their target up, and ran like it was my life on the line. When I heard the colony hissing and spitting behind me, I was no longer sure it wasn’t my blood they wanted. The tabby hissed over my shoulder, its tail whipping about and smacking me in the face as I fled.

I yelled in agony as one of the cats leapt upon me, digging its claws and teeth into my skin and ripping my work shirt. I threw the offender off and picked up my pace, my heart pounding harder than I’d ever felt before. I winced when the cat in my arms dug its nails into my shoulder, but my pain was forgotten when a shot of adrenaline hit me. I sprinted down the road faster than I’d ever gone before. I wasn’t sure how I was pushing myself that hard, but I didn’t care. I needed to get away from that crazy colony and maybe I could still make it to work on time.

I practically tumbled through the building’s entrance, scrambling away from the door when razor-sharp claws swiped at me from beneath it. I backed up until my back hit the reception desk.

~~~~~~

“Might wanna change up your cologne, hun. Looks like you’re attracting the wrong kind of pussy.” Maribelle grinned at me, but her expression fell when she saw my back. “They were out for blood, weren’t they? Better grab a shirt from lost and found before the boss sees you. Why were those cats coming after you?”

I moved to lift the cat I’d rescued to show her, but it was gone. I didn’t remember it leaving, but I figured the chase still had me on edge and I could have missed it. “Um, I guess I just pissed them off.” Before Maribelle could ask any further questions, I darted into the storage closet, found a shirt that would fit me, and made my way to my desk like it was any normal day. I sat down and began my data entry, losing myself in the monotony.

My concentration was broken when I felt something brush against my leg. I looked under my desk to find the eerie feline staring at me. “There you are. How did you get up here?” I looked around before scooping the cat up and placing it in my lap. It purred louder than my brother’s motorcycle. I’d never had a pet. My parents were both allergic to pretty much every animal. I tried to talk them into getting me one of those newfangled Fazyn since they’re designed in the lab to be hypoallergenic, but they also cost more than my family made in a year.

I smiled down at the content creature. “If you behave and stay hidden, you can stay.” It settled in my lap, purring in great contentment as I pet the cat. I didn’t let myself get too distracted. I still had a job to do and the end of my shift was hours away. Despite the mountain of tasks on my plate, I calmly meandered through them, taking a moment to pet the tabby after every few files.

“Gravtik!”

I fell out of my chair when my boss screamed my last name, looking up at the red-faced Dwarf in utter confusion. I whipped my head around to find the cat, but it had disappeared.

He glared down at me with his hands on his hips. “You’re behind on your daily quota. I told you the next time I caught you slacking off that your ass was on the line. I do not have time for lazy losers like you. Get up, get back to work. You’re working through lunch.” He stomped away before I could respond.

I righted my chair and moved to sit in it, but stopped short before I sat on the tabby cat. “You certainly have a knack for disappearing at the right time.” I shooed the cat from my chair and sat down. I held a hand in front of its nose when it tried to jump into my lap again. “No, no, no. I need to focus. You’re bad for my focus.”

It blinked at me and tilted its head one way and then the other, its ears twitching. I stifled a yelp when the cat bit my ankle. I leaned down to scold the animal but was suddenly hit with a wave of energy like I’d downed every coffee in the city all at once. I gazed at my computer in a daze and placed my hands on my keyboard. My fingers went into overdrive as I ran through the documents I was working with. I completed more in ten minutes than I had in the last week. I panted when all of the assignments were complete, my hands all but useless. The tabby rubbed against my leg before leaping into my lap again and I laid my shaking hands on the feline’s back, its warmth and purring soothing the aches in my joints.

“Gravtik!”

I closed my eyes and sighed when the burly man in a suit stormed over to me. “What’s up, boss? I finished all of my work.”

He crossed his arms. “I saw that. You even did it with higher accuracy than is actually possible for a person. What did you do? What program did you download on our computers?”

I shook my head and stared at him in bewilderment. “What? I didn’t do anything that I don’t normally. I guess I just really wanted my lunch today.”

My boss grinned at me with a wicked look in his eyes. “I actually came down here to tell you that since you did such a fast, efficient job, the execs want you to work through lunch anyway. I told them you wouldn’t mind.”

My computer beeped and my task list filled in an instant. I felt a mix of anger and despair which burned in my chest. I watched my boss leave, my hands clamped around the arms of my chair. The cat mewed at me and the heat of my rage cooled. “How did he not see you?”

I watched my coworkers shuffle away to eat their gray food in the gray breakroom and my stomach growled. “I really could have used that lunch break. Gilbert’s is still open and I could go for some nice hot chili.” I closed my eyes and imagined the mild, smoky smell Gill managed to balance just right. I could practically smell it.

That’s when I realized, I did smell it. When I opened my eyes, I was greeted by an enormous takeout container filled to the brim with chili, steam wafting into the air. I looked around and tried to find whoever left this feast for me. There was no one. No one but me and the tabby. I narrowed my eyes at the cat who had an oddly satisfied look. “How did…did you…? No, that’s not possible. Maribelle must have snuck up here.”

I knew I should have just gotten back to work. If the boss caught me eating at my desk, that would be it for me. My belly growled to remind me I hadn’t eaten at school. Or before leaving my house. The delicious scent was too enticing to resist. I shoveled my food into my mouth as I worked, trying to push myself to work at the impossible pace I had minutes before to no avail.

“Gravtik!”

I froze with my last spoonful of chili on my spoon, my heart sinking when he stormed his way to my cubicle again. “What do you think you’re doing? How did you even get that in here? You know what? I don’t care. This is the final straw, Gravtik. Pack up your desk and get out before I have security escort you out. Good luck getting another job in this field. I’ll get you blacklisted so fast your head will spin.”

The tabby jumped onto my desk and stoically stared at my now dumbfounded boss with contempt written on its face. I didn’t even think cats could make expressions like that. “I would reconsider whose head is up for spinning, underling.” My boss and I stared at the creature on my desk. Its mouth hadn’t moved, the words projected into our minds.

My boss took a step back as his face paled. “What the fuck is going on? Gravtik! C-control that animal!”

The cat and I looked at each other and I shook my head. “I think you might be confused about the relationship between me and…um, what’s your name?”

Its tail flicked so fast it appeared the tabby had multiple tails. “You would not be able to speak my name. Even if your vocal cords could make the correct sounds, it would likely drive you mad to speak. But you may call me Tom.”

“Tom? Like, a Tomcat?”

Tom tilted his head. “I had not considered that when choosing my name. I’ll have to keep that one.” The cat’s attention snapped back to my trembling boss. “You have been quite cruel to my new friend. As he has saved my life, I owe him a life debt. However, I cannot stand cruelty for cruelty’s sake., so this one is free.” Tom flung himself at my boss and a black hole appeared underneath him, swallowing him whole and closing just at the cat’s feet touched the ground.

My eyes went wide. “Where did he go? What’s going to happen to him?”

Tom dug his claws into the carpet and stretched as far as he could. “He is in the cruelty box. What happens next is up to him. You are unlikely to see him again. He seems like the stubborn type.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “So, how do I explain his disappearance?”

Tom gave me a puzzled look. “Why would you need to explain this at all? He is gone. He will be replaced. The universe will right itself.”

I flopped down in my chair. “What is that supposed to mean? What are you?”

Tom climbed into my lap again and settled. “What I am is complicated. To put it in a way you will understand, I am an Elder Deity and I am trapped on your plane of existence. I seek a way home but have been unsuccessful thus far. I was trying to blend in with those cats, however, they were less than pleased by my presence.”

I scratched him behind his ear. “Wait, why couldn’t you just do to those cats like you did to him?”

Tom purred with a satisfied grin when I found a good spot. “I was running low on Magic. It takes quite a bit to maintain this form so I may walk among you Mortals.”

I frowned, uncertain I wanted the answer to my next question. “Then how did you do it now?”

Tom yawned and I caught sight of an impossible number of teeth in his mouth. “You chose to save me. I chose to empower you so we could both escape. As I said, I owe you a life debt. A life debt that now connects us until the universe has deemed our transaction complete.”

I tried to process his words…thoughts…This was all so confusing. “So, are you saying you’re feeding off of me so you can fuel your Magic?”

Tom laid his head on his paws. “If that is how you wish to see it, though you are describing a parasite, which I am not. This isn’t a one-way exchange. Did you not appreciate the help I gave you with running or getting your work done? Did I not make your life a little easier?”

I couldn’t refute his words. It had been nice to feel more than just a scrawny teenager with no future prospects. “So, what am I supposed to do now?”

The cat shrugged and stretched out on my lap. “That food I retrieved for you smelled very good. We should get more.”

Before I knew what was happening, I was walking out of the building with Tom draped over my shoulders and straight for Gilbert’s Bar. “Hey! This is my body. You don’t get to just control it.” My body stopped moving and my feet felt rooted.

Tom hopped down and stared up at me with glowing eyes. “We should come to an understanding.” His shadow morphed into a far larger creature with six tentacle-like tails. One of the shadow tails shot at me, burying itself in my chest and wrapping around my heart. “This is OUR body right now. I owe you a life debt, but do not forget which one of us holds the power in this exchange. I cannot kill you, but I can make your life miserable and filled with pain. Do you understand your predicament?”

I nodded, gasping when the pressure on my heart dissipated. I took shaky breaths and touched my chest, my heart beating in an irregular way until Tom jumped onto my shoulder again. “So, how about we get that chili.”

~~~~~~

And from that day forward, Tom was my constant companion. Hm? Where is he now? Sorry, kid. That’ll have to wait for another day. Go on. Get to class before I get you in trouble.

This story was inspired by this tweet from @hoplitnet.

#Enlightened #Content Warnings #Shorts

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trying-write-fanfics · 4 years

Text

Shouji Mezo X Reader part 2, Remember

It was a lecture day for the students. Being an aid, Y/n wasn’t expected to come in with Aizawa. In truth the non teaching time was to let her recover, do her own school work when needed, or whatever she really needed. Y/n threw all her clothes on the floor and then tried again. She was too cute, trying too hard, looked too old, looked too young! She did settle on a tan skirt, a black turtleneck and dark tights. Covered head to toe to hide her injuries of bruises and bandages.

A few things for her new life was she was not allowed to have a phone, and she would have to use school computers. All her messages would be monitored and sent to the staff, since she had to make a her own login.This was a hell for her because she enjoyed the internet like anyone her age. She liked learning tik tok dances and learning how to paint clouds, and just having an outlet to talk to her friends and comment on the news.

“Damn I’m cute” she told herself. “Or maybe I’m hideous.”

Her new identity was aged up to fit the file and position as a teaching aid. What were adults even like? Would she even be one? Or even know how to pretend to be one. She didn’t really know too many adults she could reference. She had her siblings, but didn’t think they were the best models.

“Makeup or no?”

Makeup can age a person up, but she doesn't know if older people do wear it like her tik tok stars would. She ended up not wearing anything too out there, just to make her look healthy.

She was escorted by Midnight to the class.

“I read your file, I’m surprised you didn’t try to escape.”

“I’m accepting this punishment.” She told her. “It’s not like anyone is waiting for my return.”

“I think this might be good for you.”

What does she know about Y/n

“I don’t know, it’s just something different.” Y/n told her

The door was terrifying. It was tall and said 1-A. It had been so long since she was in a classroom setting. Her hand reached out for it. Just filing papers, taking papers, passing out papers, so much paper they should have a paper quirk!

“You can wait another day if you need.” Midnight told her.

She read her file just like every other nosy-!

“I’m fine this is nothing.” She told Midnight.

Y/n sucked a lot of air in her lungs. She wasn’t their peer, she was just an aid. Entering the classroom without announcing herself she saw Aizawa first and then her eyes met the student body. It was hard to use one single word to describe the class. Though she was supposed to be aged up they were more intimidating. Angry hormonal teens, they had to just be like her. It’s a dog eat dog world.

“Ah, here is my aid, (first name) Veilia.”

“What kinda last name is Veilia?” A pink troll asked.

“Don’t be so rude, I’m Iida-“ some tall guy with glasses started to say.

“Enough. Any words you have for the class,Velia ?” Aizawa asked

“Call me Ms. Veilia. If you need anything from me, I’ll be surprised.” Y/n stated.

“What kinda of opening statement is that?” A boy with black long hair said.

“You guys have been here longer than me. But if you need my help feel free to ask.” She said. “But do you have any questions for me.

Well the age up image wasn’t strong, but these kids are gonna believe what they’re told. Aizawa may be dark, but not shady. Hands went up.

“You guys can’t have that many questions.” Aizawa said.

“Are you a hero?”

“Are you a hero’s daughter?”

“What’s your quirk?”

“How did you get this job? Teaching sounds boring!”

“Enough. This isn’t constructive.” Aizawa said. “She’s helping me with paper work since I have chronic dry eye.”

And like that she was put to a computer. It looked like she was reviewing grades or emails, maybe even data entry, but in reality, she was reviewing a grade she had for a paper. It was a B, she could have been better, but it was a rushed job. Reading the comments just tore her apart. Then a shadow loomed over her desk.

“Do you have a stapler, Ms. Veilia?” The kid with weird elbows asked.

Her eyes scanned the desk and noticed there wasn’t one. What kind of teacher did that hack think he was. His poor students didn’t even have staplers even at such a prestigious hero school.

“Yeah, I got one.”

Y/n unclipped a mini stapler off her keychain attached to her belt. He was surprised it was a gator stapler. He didn’t think that Aizawa would have such a colorful aid with fun supplies.

“This is cool.” The weird elbow kid said.

Oh my god he’s trying to make conversation. Y/n froze. Duh it’s a cool stapler, it’s making the ordinary everyday supplies extraordinary fun-plies! She can’t say that out loud! Embarrassing!

“How many staples do you need?”

“J-just one.”

This topic sucked.

“I’m gonna take that back now.”

“My name is Sero Hanta.”

This must have been the casual way to meet the students. She did miss role call.

“Nice to meet you.”

He gave her a smile and sat back down. A red head and hound him for information about the teaching aid. Was she that cool to just exist in the classroom? The interesting sigh of the class was the white haired kid. There were so many one or two word things to describe him and instantly people would know it’s him. The six arm guy, the mask one, arm flap, tall ass tree. His hair covered what she assumed would be another eye. He definitely caught her eye. He probably had a million cool nicknames. No one at her old school looked as cool as him. Mysterious, handsome, tall, probably a grocery getter champion. A whole package.

However not one student was easy to ignore. Sure six arms was a quiet guy, but look at him, his existence just speaks cool. The plain looking brunette girl was hella hyper and bubbly with wide eyes. The pink troll looked interesting and was interesting. Sero had some weird elbows. Half and half was didn’t speak much, but his face was scarred. It was hard keeping track of all of them because she couldn’t focus on what everyone was. So many people, so many names, she could be so rude, if she couldn’t figure them all out. So many strangers.

A mug broke.

“Can you clean this up, Velia?” Aizawa asked.

Something to do! She couldn’t read the harsh comments all damn day! She mopped up the coffee, swept the pieces up and now she was done. Nothing to do! Luckily the lunch bell rang. The students all began to leave. Aizawa stayed behind with the girl.

“How’s your first day going?” He asked in a monotone voice.

#shouji mezou #shoji mezo #bnha fanfiction #bnha #xreader

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440mxs-wife · 4 years

Text

Class Reunion

Pairing: Benny x Reader

"No. Ruthie, no. I don't want to go to the reunion," you replied from your desk in the back office. "You remember how it was for me in high school. I didn't 'fit in', all I did was study and babysit the neighbors' kids. I don't have the greatest memories of high school, except meeting you," you explained.

"You 'fit in' just fine, and all that studying has certainly prepared you for your current occupation," Ruthie pointed out. "Besides, you're nowhere near the same girl as you were in high school," she remarked.

"I'm aware of that, Ruthie. I didn't even go to prom, remember?" you reminded her.

"Will you at least think about it? I talked my husband into going, and Charlie has a date. I'm sure you can find someone to go with. Please? Charlie and I need to go dress shopping for this, and it just won't be the same unless you're there with us," she begged.

You pinched the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger. "Fine. I will think about it. That's the best answer you're gonna get for right now. I have to get back to work now, my break's over. Bye Sis," you said softly. After you hung up your phone, you leaned on the desk with your elbows and covered your face with your hands.

"Bad news, darlin'?" a voice from the doorway caused you to nearly jump out of your seat. You looked up and saw it was Benny, the handsome blue-eyed head bartender.

"Nah, just a call from my sister, Ruthie," you sighed wearily. Benny nodded, as he had seen the two of you in the bar together on one of your nights off.

"You look upset, chérie. Wanna talk about it?" Benny asked. "Look, two ears, ready to listen," he drawled in that sexy Southern accent.

You smiled as you stood up from the desk. You put a hand on Benny's shoulder as you left the office and to go back out to the front of the house. "I'll help you close up, and we can talk then, okay?" you suggested.

"Fine by me, darlin'," he agreed, flashing you that winning smile of his.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You had been working at Rocky's Bar for about the past eight years. The bar was co-owned by brothers Sam and Dean Winchester, whom you'd met through some other friends. Your business degree helped to make their bar a success among the locals and tourists alike. Most of your time was spent in the office doing paperwork, but on the weekends especially, you helped as a server.

It had been your idea to hire Benny as the head bartender. Benny previously worked in one of the higher end clubs in New York City, which is where you met him. The two of you got to talking one night, and he let it slip that he was looking to slow down a bit from the New York bar scene.

Sam had tried his hand at being head bartender, but he quickly got overwhelmed. You remembered what Benny had said about wanting a change of pace from New York. You called and invited him to work for Sam and Dean on a one-week trial basis. His easygoing manner and lilting Southern accent had the ladies swooning in no time. Before the week was out, Benny was offered the job, and ever since, the two of you have grown to be even better friends.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The rest of the night was fairly quiet, with only a few regulars left in the bar at last call. You cleared up the tables and brought the dirty glasses to Benny so they could be washed. After the tables were wiped down and the peanut shells were swept up, you took a seat on an empty barstool.

"So, what about that phone call got you all upset?" Benny asked while he continued to scrub the glassware.

"It's something kinda stupid to get upset about," you started. Before continuing, you took a deep breath. "My ten-year high school reunion is later this month, and Ruthie wants me to go," you explained.

"And you don't want to go?" Benny guessed.

"Right-O. She and I met when we were transitioning from junior high to senior high school. I didn't have a lot of friends in junior high. Any of the friends I had in high school were because of my association with Ruthie.

"Plus....I was kind of a nerd. Always studying, and I babysat the neighbors' kids all the time. I didn't get to do the high school activities thing. Didn't go to the Friday night football games, Homecoming Dances....I never even went to prom," you finished in a small voice.

Benny put down the glass he was washing and focused his gaze entirely on you while leaning on the bar. "Wait a minute. You mean to tell me that a pretty lady like yourself didn't go to prom?" he asked.

You cast your eyes downward to hide the blush on your cheeks. "No, Benny. I didn't go because I wasn't asked. What you see before you is a more improved model, I guess you'd say. If we had met in high school, believe me, you wouldn't have even given me a second glance. You're way out of my league," you replied.

"Aw, darlin'--" he started but you interrupted.

"Besides that, I learned my lesson about aiming too high. The guy I had a crush on asked me to prom but it was done as a joke. Eric was one of the popular kids, but I thought he was one that didn't always go along with the crowd so much.

"Long story short, he stood me up and walked into the dance with someone else. The following Monday at school was humiliating for me, because everyone knew. After that, I put my nose in a book and studied," you explained.

Benny came out from behind the bar and took your hands in his. "I'm so sorry that happened to you, chérie. No one deserves that. If I may say, though, I think you need to go to that reunion. If for no other reason than to show them what they missed out on in high school by being so mean," he remarked and gave you a wink.

You blushed again and dropped your gaze to study the wood grain of the floor. "I told Ruthie I'd think about it," you replied as you stepped down from your barstool. "Even if I decide to go, there's still that one other pesky detail," you said.

"And what's that?" Benny asked.

"Finding a date. Goodnight, Benny. Thank you for listening and being such a good friend," you remarked softly. You gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek, then picked up your denim jacket and walked out the back door.

Just as the door closed behind you, Dean walked into the main bar area. He had been in the back taking inventory, and had some supply questions for his head bartender. Dean was studying the inventory sheets on the clipboard in his hand. "Hey, Benny, how are we doing on our supply of--hey, are you all right?" Dean asked.

Benny stood, rooted to the spot. A dazed smile was on his face, and his fingertips touched his cheek where you'd kissed him. Dean stood directly in front of Benny and snapped his fingers in his face to try and break the trance. Benny blinked and shook his head to slowly come back to reality. "Dude, what happened with you just now?" Dean inquired.

Chuckling to himself, Benny returned to his place behind the bar and started to wash up any remaining glassware. Then he brought Dean up to speed on your conversation about your high school reunion. "So, she hasn't decided whether or not she's going. Her sister and Charlie both want her to go. Only problem is, they have dates, but she doesn't," Benny finished.

"Hmm. That would be a problem. I can't see her being comfortable walking in there without a date. Not with how complicated high school was for her," Dean observed. "Hey, maybe you should be her date," he suggested.

Benny stopped what he was doing to consider his best friend's suggestion. He'd known you for a few years now, and he looked forward to seeing you every night. He would always be grateful to you for giving him the chance to get out of New York City's bar scene.

He couldn't deny the spark he felt when you kissed his cheek tonight. You always had a smile for him, one he was always sure to return. Whenever he heard your laugh, it was like hearing his favorite song. Each time he looked into your hazel eyes, a comfortable feeling washed over him, like coming home. One time, Benny was lucky to get close enough to you, and he caught the green apple scent of your shampoo. From then on, he became obsessed with anything apple.

Benny finished his closing duties, grabbed his leather jacket and flat cap then walked out the back door with Dean. "I think I should do that, offer to be her date," he conceded.

"Yeah, 'cause it's not like you have a crush on her or anything," Dean smirked.

"I don't know what you're talking about, brother," Benny grinned. "See you tomorrow night, Dean," Benny called.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next night, you were in the back office going through some paperwork. You were entering last week's sales figures into the online books and signing off on the inventory reports. After a while, the numbers started swimming before your eyes, and you realized it was time to take a break. You closed your eyes and started massaging your neck, trying to work out some of the stiffness.

After a few moments, you hear the sound of someone clearing his throat to get your attention. You looked up and smiled to see that it was Benny, standing in the doorway.

"Good evening, Benny, so nice to see you! Sorry I haven't been up front much tonight. What brings you back here?" you questioned.

"Well, it's like you said, sweetheart. You haven't been out front very much, and I thought I'd check and see how you're doing. Everything okay?" Benny asked.

"Just going over some numbers, boring data-entry stuff. Although, there's a lot of it, and you caught me taking a break," you explained, reaching up to resume massaging your neck.

"Here, allow me," Benny offered, pulling up a chair to sit behind you. He rubbed his hands together briskly then gently placed them on your shoulders. His now-warm hands instantly calmed you as he started work through your tense neck muscles. "Relax, darlin'. You sure have a lot of knots here. Just close your eyes and let this work," he crooned.

As directed, you closed your eyes as Benny continued to massage your neck and shoulders. His skilled fingers kept working out each knot, and you could feel the tension begin to melt away. "Whoa," you whispered. "This feels amazing, Benny," you said as you groaned with the relief provided by his strong hands.

"Feeling better, chérie?" Benny asked, his breath hot against your ear.

"Much better, thank you," you breathed. "Were you born with such magic fingers, or did you find them on the internet somewhere?" you teased.

Benny chuckled. "Original equipment, darlin'. All me," he answered and wiggled his fingers.

"Lucky me," you murmured.

"Hey, have you decided what you're going to do about your high school reunion?" he asked.

You looked down at your hands, which were folded in your lap. "Not yet. I think you're right, though. I should go, even if only to show people how I've changed from how they knew me in school. Although I don't know why I care so much about what other people think," you muttered.

Benny reached over and with his index finger and tilted your head up to gaze into your hazel eyes. "The only person you have to answer to is yourself. Doesn't matter what other people think. As long as you're happy with who you are, that's what's important," he replied.

You gave Benny a shy smile. "Thank you for saying that, Benny. Besides, if nothing else, it's an excuse for me to buy a new dress, get all dolled up and have a dance or two. Except I still don't have a date," you remembered.

It was now or never. Benny took a deep breath. "So, if you had a date, then you'd go?" he asked, to which you nodded. "Okay then. I'll be your date," he declared.

Your eyes widened at his suggestion. "Really? Why would you want to put yourself through that? You wouldn't know anyone--" he stopped you.

"I'd know you, Ruthie and Charlie. Anyway, it wouldn't exactly be torture, you know. I'd get to see a beautiful woman in a new dress, all dolled up. And, I'd get to slow dance with her a few times," he winked.

"Wow, you would do that for me?" you asked. Benny nodded as he inched closer to leave a lingering kiss on your cheek this time. "Now, go get that new dress, chérie. Can't wait to see you in it," he winked and went back to work.

You pulled out your phone and dialed a number. "Hey, Ruthie? What time are we going shopping for dresses tomorrow?" you asked.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The following day, you went dress shopping with Charlie and Ruthie for the reunion. They were so happy that you had decided to go to the reunion with them and that you'd found a date. The more you thought about it, the more you started to warm up to the idea and actually looked forward to it.

You thought back over the years that had passed since you met Benny, ever since that night in a New York City nightclub. You had been visiting your brother, who was the one who wanted to go out in the first place. He was off chasing some girl, while you were left at the bar with your drink.

Benny kept you entertained all night, with the two of you sharing stories of your childhood. He was from a small town in Louisiana, while you were from Iowa. Neither of you seemed to fit with the fast-paced world of NYC. You hung around the bar until after closing, then you and Benny walked the streets, checking out the city. He kept your hand in his the whole time, which made you feel safe in such a big city, and you enjoyed his company.

The thought of your first time meeting Benny made you smile, just as you did every day at seeing him. You always felt safe around him, protected. He was handsome, but in a way that might lead to him being overlooked by some women, but not by you. Benny was sweet, making time to check on you every night you were hard at work in the back office. He had kind, blue eyes that sometimes held a bit of mischief when chatting with customers or co-workers.

And as with nearly every woman, you often fell victim to the charms of his sexy Southern drawl. Probably how he got you to agree at the last minute to go to your reunion. Up until he offered to be your date, you had successfully resisted Ruthie's attempts at getting you to go. Then Benny made his case, and you found yourself giving in to his suggestion.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The night before the reunion, you and Benny were both working late. You had paperwork to catch up on, and he was in charge of closing the bar. With it being the end of the quarter, there were additional responsibilities, and you hadn't been sleeping well all week.

Benny had finished all of his closing duties, and was getting ready to head out the door when he saw your office light was still on. He gently knocked on the door and smiled to himself at seeing you. Your head was resting in the crook of your elbow, your crossed arms leaning on your desk. He reached over and tenderly brushed the hair out of your eyes and from your forehead, which caused you to stir.

"Evenin' darlin'," he chuckled softly.

You gave him a sleepy smile, then stretched in your chair, trying to wake up. You gathered up your paperwork and locked it in the desk. You retrieved your purse and car keys. "Must've dozed off, sorry. Thank you for checking on me," you said softly, still a bit sleepy.

"Of course, chérie. You going to make it home okay? I can drive you if you'd rather," he offered.

"I think I can make it home, it's not too far. Thank you though," you replied, blushing. "Big night tomorrow. You know, we can still call it off, hang out at my place instead with pizza and movies," you suggested.

Benny chuckled again. "Not a chance," he shook his head firmly. "I'm looking forward to seeing you in your new dress, with your hair done up just so. Even though no matter what you do with your hair or makeup, you're still beautiful to me, chérie," he replied softly. "And I can't wait to dance with you," he said as he brushed his hand to your cheek.

For a moment, you lost all ability to form a coherent thought, all due to Benny's words and his touch on your skin. "Well, I just hope my reality can live up to your imagination," you whispered.

"Of that, I have no doubt, darlin'," Benny remarked. "See you at seven, your place," he promised.

"Seven it is," you agreed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Charlie!! Have you seen my pink lipstick?!? Aaarrrggghhh! Benny will be here any minute, and I can't find my stupid lipstick!!" you shouted. Ruthie and Charlie were getting ready for the reunion at your house, and you were getting more and more nervous.

"Relax, chickie, it's right here," Charlie placed it in your hand and held onto it, trying to calm you down. "You have plenty of time to finish getting ready. Benny won't be here for another 10 minutes. Okay? Come on, deep breaths," she got you to breathe with her, which did calm you down.

"Charlie, I'm sorry. I'm just so nervous. I haven't been on any kind of date for a long time, and I really like Benny. We've gotten to be good friends over the years, but lately....I've started to have those 'maybe-we-could-be-more-than-friends' feelings. I don't even know how he feels, or if he feels the same. If not, it could make it awkward to work together," you finished.

Ruthie came in to the bathroom to have you zip up her dress. "Do yourself a favor and just have fun tonight. It doesn't have to lead anywhere. If it does, fine, but if not, you'll still have your friendship with him, right?" she asked.

"Yes, that's true. Okay. Time to shimmy into my dress," you grinned. You had found a strapless, floor-length, navy blue gown, with a criss-cross bodice that was form-fitted to your upper body. Although you loved the dress, you weren't exactly comfortable with the amount of skin that was left bare. As a solution, you found a wrap for your shoulders made of a sheer material that was a sparkling silver.

A knock at the door was heard and all three of you froze. You looked out your bedroom window and down to the street to see a shiny, sleek, black Lincoln Town Car parked in front. You knew that Benny drove an old pickup truck, so it had to belong to either of your friends' dates.

"Hey, which one of your dates owns a Lincoln Town Car?" you asked. Charlie and Ruthie looked at each other and shrugged, then continued getting ready. You grabbed your shawl and slowly made your way down the stairs. "Just a minute," you called out to your visitor.

When you opened the door, the figure on your front porch nearly took your breath away. Benny was dressed in a charcoal grey suit with a silver tie and pocket square. Gone was his usual flat cap, his hair neatly styled with gel and his beard freshly trimmed. His smile was the first thing that caught your attention. One part genuine appreciation of your appearance, one part mischief, which meant that you were in for an interesting evening.

"Wow," you whispered. "Won't you please come in?" you asked, after you managed to regain your composure.

Benny chuckled and crossed the threshold into your living room. He took your hand and gently pressed his lips to the back of it. "Bonsoir, chérie. Forgive me for saying, but I didn't know it was possible for you to get any more breathtaking since the last time I saw you," Benny remarked.

"My goodness, but you're a charmer, Benny. Thank you for the compliment. You look very handsome as well. Don't think I've ever seen you without your usual cap. I have to say I like it, though," you added softly.

"Well, thank you darlin'," he winked. In his right hand, he produced a clear plastic box, which had a corsage in it. "Now, this ain't no dozen roses, but you are the first woman I've ever given flowers to 'sides my mama," he grinned. Benny took your right hand in his and placed the corsage on your wrist. It had pink and yellow roses with a navy blue ribbon woven through.

"It's beautiful, thank you, Benny," you beamed.

"Not as beautiful as you," Benny whispered and kissed the back of your hand.

By this time, Charlie and Ruthie had finished getting ready, just in time for their dates to arrive as well. They went to their respective cars and said they'd meet you there. Benny offered you his arm, so you slid your hand around it and he tucked it in close to his side. When he got to the car, he opened your door and waited for you to get comfortable before closing the door.

As he drove to the reunion, Benny reached over for your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Try not to worry, sweetheart. I'll be with you every step of the way, and if you want to leave, just say the word," he promised. You squeezed his hand in return and gave him a grateful smile. Once you arrived at the venue, Benny repeated his gentlemanly gestures and opened your door for you. He held out his hand to help you out of the car, and you took it.

Just before you walked in, you tugged on Benny's arm. He stopped to look at you, wondering what you were doing. "In case I forgot to tell you, I appreciate what you're doing for me here tonight. Takes a special kind of person to do a favor like this for someone. You are definitely someone special to me, Benny Lafitte. Thank you," you said as you reached up to give him a kiss to his cheek.

Now it was his turn to blush. "Oh, darlin', you don't have to thank me. You're my friend, and it's my honor to help you. 'Sides, like I said before, this won't exactly be torture. Got a gorgeous woman by my side, and I'm lookin' forward to some slow dances, if you know what I mean," he grinned. You giggled, and since Ruthie and Charlie had caught up to you, all of you walked into the party.

As the evening progressed, you found your earlier worries about attending the reunion had melted away. You knew that a lot of it had to do with Benny, who made it his main priority to see that you were taken care of. He was never gone away from your side for long, usually just to get a drink at the bar.

Whenever a slow song came up, Benny was the first one out of his chair with his hand out, asking you to dance. You always accepted with a smile, and the two of you headed for the dance floor. By the third dance, you realized that your feelings for Benny had definitely progressed beyond friendship. A part of you thought that maybe he felt the same for you. However, there was just as much possibility that he didn't. You also knew that if you didn't say something and soon, that you may regret it.

Benny could tell you had something on your mind. He hooked his index finger under your chin to peer into your hazel eyes. "Are you all right, chérie? You look like you're a million miles away," he observed.

You gave him a shy smile. "I'm fine, just thinking about how wonderfully this evening has turned out. And I have you to thank for it, Benny," you replied. Now was your chance, as the song was ending. "There was something that I wanted to tell you," you started. Your eyes shifted only to catch sight of the girl Eric took to prom instead of you. Tracy Anderson, head cheerleader, student class president, Miss I'm-Great-at-Everything-I-Ever-Do.

"And what is that?" he asked, tightening his embrace and drawing you closer.

A feeling of panic swept over you and you couldn't tell him how you felt right then. "I-I'll be right back," you stammered and ran off towards the ladies' room. Benny stared after you, not quite understanding what just happened. He walked back to the table and sat down to wait for you.

Once in the bathroom, you paced back and forth trying to collect yourself and your thoughts. Can't believe you chickened out, you scolded yourself. So what if she's here? Eric was a jerk to ditch you at prom. He didn't care about you, but Benny does, you explained. Now, get out there and tell him how you feel while you still have the chance, you ordered yourself, smiling in the mirror.

You walked into one of the stalls to get some toilet paper to fix your make up. At that moment, Tracy Anderson and two of her friends walked in. You closed the stall door before they could see you.

"Hey did you see who was here? That girl who Eric asked to prom as a joke," one of them giggled.

"Yeah, I saw her. That guy she's with? He's the head bartender at Rocky's Bar. Oooh, he's so cute! And have you heard him talk? Love his accent, how he says 'darlin' and 'sweetheart' all the time," another girl said. "You don't seriously think they're dating, do you?" she asked.

"Please, do you think he'd waste any of his time on the likes of her? She was such a nerd in high school, always reading and studying. She probably had to pay him to show up here with her so she wouldn't look so pathetic showing up alone. He's way out of her league," Tracy remarked. "Come on, girls, let's get back to the dance," Tracy ordered.

Looks like they remembered me after all, you thought. Every reason for not coming tonight was voiced by none other than the most popular girl in school. All of a sudden, you didn't feel well and decided to ask Benny to take you home. At least there, you could cry in peace and no one would care if your mascara ran all over your face.

You exited the restroom, but didn't notice that Benny was standing outside by the water fountain, waiting for you. He caught your arm and as you turned to face him, he knew something was wrong. "Hey, whoa, are you okay, chérie? You look upset," he said.

"I was headed back to the table to find you. Is it okay if you take me home? I'm feeling a little tired," you replied.

Sensing there was more to the story, but not wanting to press you, he agreed. Benny grabbed your shawl and draped it around your shoulders for you. He held out his arm and you slipped your hand around it, holding on dear life. Benny helped you into the car and started the drive back to your place.

Benny scrambled to think of something to keep the evening going. He knew that as soon as you walked in your front door, he would never know what happened tonight to upset you. "Do you mind if we take a little side trip before I take you home, darlin'?" he asked.

"If you want, you're the one driving," you answered absently.

Benny steered the car to a nearby park and drove to the top of a hill. He got out and ran around to your side to open your door. You leaned against the passenger side of the car, your arms folded across your chest. You looked up to see the millions of stars spread across the night sky.

As Benny stood next to you, he searched your face for some sort of clue as to what happened at the reunion. "What was it you wanted to tell me? Back when we were dancing, you said there was something, then you ran off to the ladies' room," he remarked.

"It's nothing, not important now," you responded softly, a single tear streaking down your face.

Benny moved to stand in front of you. His hand cupped your cheek and his thumb wiped away the tear. "Now come on, I don't believe that. There is something I wanted to tell you, though," he started. "We've been friends for a lot of years now, and you're pretty much my best friend. But seeing you tonight, I realized that I think of you as more than a friend. I'm falling for you, chérie, and I'm crashing hard."

You stood there, stunned at his admission. This was something straight out of your wildest dreams, that Benny felt the same for you as you did for him. "You are an incredible woman. You're smart, sassy, with a great sense of humor. You also have the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known. You're always there to help when someone needs it, and you are beautiful, inside and out," he finished.

"Benny, you are the most wonderful man I've ever met. You're sweet, handsome, romantic and I'm falling for you as well. That was what I wanted to tell you earlier, but I chickened out at the last minute. The reason I did doesn't matter any more, because you helped me to believe in love, that it can happen to me. I love you, Benny Lafitte," you declared.

Benny's face inched towards you until his lips swiftly captured yours in a kiss that seemed to imprint itself on your soul. Your hands slid up his chest until they locked behind his head and kept your mouths in constant contact. Benny's hands in turn started weaving through your hair, releasing it from the pins holding it in place. "Mon amour....comme tu es très jolie au clair de lune," Benny whispered.

"Mon cœur, je t'aime toujours," you responded.

Benny pulled back a little in surprise. "Since when do you speak French, ma belle fleur?" he asked in amusement.

"Since I met you," you said simply. "At first, I only wanted to know what you were saying, but now I get to tell you how I feel. Je t'aime toujours, Benny," you repeated.

"Je t'aime aussi, mon amour," he returned, just before his lips meshed with yours.

#benny lafitte #benny x reader #spn imagines #spn fluff

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avengerscompound · 5 years

Text

Legacy - Chapter 3

Legacy: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x F!Reader

Word Count: 1732

Rating: E

Square filled: @marvelfluffbingo - Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Pregnancy, domestic abuse, post-endgame, angst, developing-relationship, hurt/comfort, smut, Laura and Clint have broken up. Comic Clint/MCU Clint mix.

Synopsis: Nothing is the same after the events of Endgame. When Clint has trouble returning to a life where his family hasn’t changed but he has lost everything, he moves back to the city and tries to move on as a single parent. When Nate finds you bruised and pregnant in the stairwell of his building, he decides that there might be another way that he can make Nat’s sacrifice worth something.

Chapter 3

Clint was really beginning to enjoy the summer. It had been a long, long time since he could remember actually really enjoying one. Not since everyone had turned to dust. It was a season that had been tainted. The last time he had really remembered enjoying it was the one where his family had died.

Since then there were five where he’d been alone, furious and broken. Where the summer was just an uncomfortable season where he remembered everything he lost. Then there was one year where all he felt was guilt and melancholy. Guilt over the fact he couldn’t be what Laura needed him to be and melancholy over a season he usually mourned.

This year had been better. He had the dog now and his kids were with him. He’d take them to Central Park and visit the Zoo or go to Heckscher Playground and let them run around in the water. He’d taken them to see movies where they’d sat in the cool watching all the new features that had been made now half of Hollywood had reappeared. He’d taken them to see the Mets play and down to Coney Island to visit Luna Park. He was making the effort to be who they needed him to be at least. Cooper and Lila had already lost one dad. They didn’t deserve to lose another. Even if he had already mourned their deaths.

One thing that was helping him a lot was you. Part of it was probably a huge case of white knight syndrome. He was aware of it. He wouldn’t have joined the Avengers if he didn’t get a kick out of helping people. He helped people a lot. It was kind of his thing. It was more than that though. Yeah, he was happy he’d gotten you away from that asshole of a boyfriend. Yeah, he was happy that he’d set you on your feet so you could do this whole pregnancy thing without the looming threat of a man that beat you or not being able to provide for them. Mostly he just liked having you around.

He’d shut people out. It wasn’t just that he wasn’t letting new people in, he’d also shut out the friends and family he already had. Opening that door for you seemed to open up a little bit of the man he used to be before all this happened. Not only that, without Richard looming over you, you started to come to life. You were like a breath of fresh air. Even after you moved into the apartment next door you’d come by to have meals with them. Often bringing over some of the dishes the neighbors had been making, sometimes cooking from scratch. While he missed eating pizza as much as he was, it was definitely good to that the kids were eating better. Laura would be happy to hear it in any case.

You’d gotten a job at Stark Industry basically doing data entry. It wasn’t much, but it was something that you could sit for and it would last you until you couldn’t work anymore. On your days off you were with them. You came to movies and the park and the zoo. The kids had all bonded with you quite closely considering it had only been a month and a half. He liked seeing you with them. He liked you. He liked himself with you. He started to recognize the guy he’d used to be. The one that was happy and flirtatious and hadn’t lost his family.

Which kinda sucked because he couldn’t see how there was any chance for you two to be anything. He couldn’t properly hit on you. The flirting was harmless but you’d just gotten out of an abusive relationship. You needed time and space. You’d already said you’d worried that he wanted something from you as payment. He wasn’t exactly in the best place either. How was he supposed to make a new relationship work when he’d fucked his marriage up so badly? Not to mention you were pregnant. It upped the stakes. He had to be really sure that there was something there before he messed with your life. The problem was that he was never sure about that kind of thing.

It has been Nat that has introduced him to Bobbi. It has been Nat who has pushed him towards Laura. He didn’t know if he had it in him to try without he smacking him over the back of the head.

As the summer drew to a close he had really started to relax. It was a weird sensation after so many years where he wouldn’t let himself. You were at his apartment with the kids waiting for Laura to pick them up. You were all playing Mario Kart. He couldn’t quite believe how much fun he was having. The kids were being hypercompetitive. You were shoving him every time he got in the lead to try and make him crash. Everyone was laughing and screaming, but that good kind of screaming where you’re having so much fun it comes out as shrieks. Each time you pushed against him he felt a warm tingle inside him. That little flutter of potential. He wanted it to go away but at the same time, he liked it. He liked that he could feel that again.

You shoved him again making him fly his baby Luigi off the side of the rainbow road. “Oh, that’s it!” He said trying to grab your controller out of your hands.

“No!” You squealed, climbing up the back of the couch. He wrestled with you for it making everyone laugh and Lucky start to bark excitedly.

“Yes! You want to play dirty, we’ll play dirty.” He teased.

There was a knock at the door and Lila jumped up and ran over to answer it. “Mom!” She squealed.

Everyone froze and looked over to see Laura standing in the doorway looking bemused.

“Mommy!” Nate yelled, running over to Laura and throwing himself at her. She caught him and picked him up as she pulled Lila into a hug too.

“Hey, guys. I missed you.” She said as she held them close.

Clint stood a little startled. He knew Laura was coming today but he thought he had a few more hours. He checked the microwave clock but it was flashing 12.00 as it had been since the day he moved in. “Are you early?”

“Yeah, sorry.” She said. “I totally misjudged how long it would take to get here. I don’t wanna rush them out or anything. I do have that baby stuff you asked for in the car though.”

“Oh, great. Thanks, Laur.” He said and introduced the two of you. “How about we go get that and you guys pack up the last of your stuff and then we can all go out and grab an early dinner?”

“Sounds good to me,” Laura said putting Nate down.

“You mind helping them out?”

You nodded. “Sure of course. Come on you lot.”

Clint followed Laura downstairs leaving you and the kids to pack up their things. “I hope this stuff is okay. It’s all really old now.” Laura said as she made her way down the stairs. “I forgot that until I was going through it and it was covered in almost a decade of dust.”

Clint sighed and nodded. “I guess if it’s no good we can have a baby shower and buy whatever else.”

Laura looked at him and raised her eyebrow. “We? Is this your baby, Clint?”

“What? No. I’d have told you I was with someone.”

“Well, that’s something at least.” She said with a shake of her head. “Who is this woman, Clint? Why are you doing this?”

“She doesn’t have anyone. And her ex was beating her. I… Laur, I couldn’t do nothing.”

“There’s doing something and then there’s bending over backward.” She said. “Do you want something to happen with her.”

“No. It’s not like that…” He said.

“Clint, I just saw you. I know what you look like when you’re falling for someone.”

He sighed and opened the door for her to go outside. “I just… Laura. She needed someone. I couldn’t be who you needed me to be. I tried. And I wish it was different. But it’s not. And she needed help. I can give her that. I should be dead and I’m not so I need to do something to make it count.”

Laura stopped and looked him over. She approached him and cupped his jaw. It was such a familiar move yet it was like it was something that used to happen to a whole other man. “I miss her too, Clint. Every single day. And I miss you. But you aren’t the man I miss. I think he died right along with us, only we don’t remember that happening.”

Clint opened his mouth to say something. To apologize or try to explain or something. She put her finger on his lips. “It’s okay, Clint. I can’t even try to understand what those five years were like. I’m not even sure I want to. You aren’t who you were before. But the world isn’t what it was before. It’s different and maybe you’re right. Maybe she needs you. But maybe you need her too. Just…” She paused and took a deep breath, caressing his cheek with her thumb. “Be careful. For both your sake.”

He nodded leaning his head into her hand a little. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“I love you, you know that?” Laura said. “If helping her, or being with her helps you find yourself, do it. Be happy.”

He smiled sadly and nodded. “I love you too.” He said. “I wish…”

“Me too, Clint. But let’s not dwell on it anymore. We’ve all lost too much. Time to move forward.” She said. “Now help me get these things outta my car.”

Clint nodded and popped the trunk. He did wish things were different in so many ways. Laura was right though, it was time to move forward. Most likely nothing would happen between you and him. It was unfair of him to expect it would. He could be your friend and he hadn’t made a new one in a long time. That was a good start.

// NEXT

#marvelfluffbingo2019 #clint barton #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #hurt/comfort #legacy

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desktopdust · 4 years

Text

Phantom Network: Antiviral Renewal

So, quick show of hands: who here has been blasted through a wall before? One, two…nobody? Really? Just me? Okay. Well then, let me tell you, kiddos: it’s not fun.

I groaned loudly as I pulled myself out of the rubble, sounding off just to let the world know it hadn’t killed me quite yet. My fog coat was caked with dust and grime, but the gunmetal alchemar beneath, though not exactly giving off the same shine it gets after a good polishing, remained intact and undamaged. The debris shifted as I moved—a block fell on the end of my green silk scarf, pinning me for a moment until I pulled it loose—but eventually I got to my feet, shook the dust from my domino mask, and took stock of my surroundings. The space could be deemed “cramped” horizontally, but vertically, it went on for ages; it was hard to tell exactly how far, the service lights blinking along the walls didn’t entirely stave off the darkness, but I had enough to deduce I had been thrown into an elevator shaft. My point of entry was only three stories up, I realized, thankful it hadn’t been any higher.

Right, crazy situation, how’d I get here, et cetera. A couple days ago, a fellow Phantom Thief who goes by “Witch Doctor” approached me for help in a heist she was planning: our local megacorp MiliGrand had recently unveiled a new miracle drug effective in curing over 200 different diseases, and managing the symptoms of at least a thousand more. Problem was, they held exclusive rights and were selling it for millions of dollars a pop. Doc wanted to bust into their compound, steal the drug, and get it into the hands of people who need it but don’t have the money to buy a new yacht every quarter, and thought she should get some backup to make sure things went smoothly. Sounded like a good cause, so I agreed. It was only after that I found out who else she had recruited…

“Roche? Still breathing, darling?”

My eyes rolled upward. Leaning into the shaft was an athletic woman with medium brown skin and bright red, shoulder-length hair dangling around her smug face. Her alchemar was silver and looked very lightweight, the armor itself being very sleek but accentuated by a knee-length half-skirt and off-the-shoulder shawl, both made of smooth pink fabric. In answer, I let out a loud sigh.

“Excellent,” she said. “Say, while you’re down there, be a dear and get us into the bottom level, would you? No point in going the long way and wasting even more time.”

“Wonderful suggestion, Kari,” I said. “I’ll get right on that.”

Kari winked before ducking out into the hall. Resigning myself to my task, I faced the wall and activated my alchemar, beginning the delicate process of manipulating the force of gravity acting on it.

See, I’ve worked with Kari a handful of times prior to this, and every single one has ended in me getting screwed over in one way or another. When we sabotaged the test run of an elites-only bullet train, she used me as a distraction so she could rob the facility’s safe on the way out. When we were contracted to recover a list of museum exhibits, she swapped my list with a fake, made me look like a fool just to be sure she was the only one building goodwill with the client. Hell, she more or less left me to die the last time I saw her, yet here she was, spewing the same fake charm as ever like none of that had ever happened. She hasn’t changed, and I doubt she ever will.

Still. There were a lot of people who needed this drug. I couldn’t quite bring myself to leave them to it just for the sake of my own comfort.

I curled my fingers as I finished bending the gravitational fields. Taking a step back, I willed the centermost field I had created to head in the same direction; the wall shuddered, bulged slightly, and finally gave, a huge circular chunk of it floating out to reveal the hall on the other side. Carefully setting down the hunk of wall, I deactivated my alchemar and looked back up to where I had entered the shaft. Kari leaned against the side of the opening, polishing her gauntlet as she waited. Next to her stood Witch Doctor, a woman of similar age and skin tone who looked a touch more frail, face obscured by a surgical mask and massive glasses with blacked-out lenses.

“You sure you’re ready to be on your feet, Doc?” I asked. “You took some pretty bad hits in that scrap just now.”

She straightened the faded gray robe she wore, almost covering the scorch marks on the thin, pale blue alchemar beneath. “I’ll be fine, Roche, thank you. We can’t afford to waste any time.”

Doc shakily held one arm out. Just as I was about to say something, Kairi tapped her on the shoulder and said, “Allow me.”

Without waiting for a response, she scooped up Witch Doctor and jumped down to the bottom of the shaft. Doc panicked a little, and honestly, so did I; Kari seemed to be enjoying that fact. I said, “Yeesh, would you take it easy?”

Brushing right past me (and still carrying Doc), Kari said, “You heard her: we can’t afford to waste any time. Besides, weren’t you concerned about her health? This way she doesn’t have to strain herself.”

“Yeah,” I grumbled as I followed her into the hall, “and instead you give her a heart attack…”

“Oh, need you be so dramatic? You’re fine, aren’t you, Doctor?”

Doc didn’t respond. Craning my neck, I could see she was still staring up at Kari; hard to be sure of much else with her whole face covered, but if I had to guess she was having some difficulty processing what was going on.

Kari chuckled. “Adorable.”

“Hey, give her some space to breathe.”

Throwing a smirk over her shoulder, Kari asked, “My, is that jealousy I hear?”

“Hah! Maybe Doc can check your hearing once we get back. It’s this way, right?”

Somehow I was fortunate enough to have relative quiet the rest of the way to the lab. The first door didn’t look particularly fancy, just a sliding metal door with a scanner next to it. Once Kari finally set Witch Doctor down and let her regain her bearing, the Doc reached into her robe and pulled out an eyeball. I turned back to the door and--

...Wait.

No, yes, that was an eyeball she was holding. My shock was apparent, it seems, because she said, “Don’t worry, it’s synthetic. Pardon me.”

She held the very real-looking but apparently fake eyeball up to the scanner, and a few seconds later the door slid open. Putting the eye away, Doc peered into the next room, and I did the same: it was a pretty spacious square of a chamber, though probably not as big as it looked since it was entirely empty. On the far wall was a much bigger, more imposing, cooler-looking door than the one we were currently poking through, flanked by a series of panels that blinked and beeped sporadically.

“Alright,” Doc said. “The bulk of the floor here is made of pressure plates, but unfortunately, I wasn’t able to obtain accurate data on the safe path through them.”

“Easy,” Kari said. “I’ll just zip right across.”

She took a step forward, but Witch Doctor shook her head furiously. “No, wait! If the plates recede for even a fraction of a second, an alarm will trigger!”

“Mmm...how small a fraction?”

“You want to burn your entire charge right here?” I asked. “This is what I’m here for. I’ll change you and Doc’s personal gravity and you jump over the plates.”

“Oh? So our fate will be in your hands?”

That’s real damn rich coming from her. “I’ll keep a close watch as you go and make alterations if needed. Hurry up and get ready.”

With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, Kari stepped just into the room along with Doc. I switched on my alchemar, using its power to loosen gravity’s hold on the two of them just a bit.

“Go.”

Kari put a bit too much into her jump—I had to act quickly to increase her gravity slightly and prevent her from smacking into the ceiling. (Which I mean, is something I’d like to see, but...time and a place for everything.) Doc, on the other hand, didn’t give quite as much of a push as I expected, so I had to reduce the pull on her even further at the same time. It wasn’t easy, but in the end I managed. Both of them landed right in front of the other door, and Doc immediately pressed her ear against it, alchemar lighting up.

She may not be much of a fighter, but Witch Doctor has a precision control over her alchemar the likes of which I’ve never seen. Metal is her preferred element, usually for creating scalpels out of thin air to be 100% sure they’re sterile, and she’s trained herself to manipulate all the moving parts of nearly any physical lock. From what she’s told me, though, it uses up a lot of the armor’s energy, and she was already wounded—I guess she expected something like this could happen, which is why she brought the fake eye for the first door. This one must’ve needed a password or something else she couldn’t circumvent. Whatever the case, it was open in no time flat.

I couldn’t see much of the lab from where I stood, but as soon as the door was open Kari slipped inside moving at inhuman speeds. Mere moments later she was back, holding in her hands a small tube containing roughly a dozen white pills. I winced, waiting to see if she had set off some other security measure with her impatience, but fortunately no such thing occurred.

“Anything else while we’re here?” Kari asked.

Doc took the tube in her hands, beaming through her mask. “Finally...we can do so much good with this!”

Now doesn’t that just warm your heart. Well, not for Kari, judging by the way she was looking back into the lab with an air of appraisal.

“Okay,” I said, “we got our mark, now let’s get the hell out of here. Ready?”

I got them back across the room and turned to leave. About three steps past the door, a piercing alarm went off. This sort of thing is so frustrating, really: this constant blaring noise throws off your focus, and there’s usually some flashing red light that distracts you too. Not to mention it means you’ve kinda failed and put your whole job (and potentially life) in jeopardy.

“What? How?!” Doc asked, clutching the tube tightly to her chest.

“Those guards we battled earlier must’ve regained consciousness,” Kari said. “Best we get moving, hm?”

I’d like to think this is her fault somehow. Regardless, moving was indeed the best idea at this juncture, so the three of us dashed back towards the elevator shaft only to be cut off by a wall of security guards who immediately opened fire. Doc and I deflected their bullets while Kari threw both hands forward and exerted her own power. Instantly, time froze for the guards, but I knew she wouldn’t be able to hold so many for long. And we still didn’t know what might be waiting for us past this point…

“Split up,” Kari said through clenched teeth. “I’ll draw them back towards the lab!”

That didn’t sit well with me. But, Doc was already moving, and I certainly didn’t want to still be standing here when these trigger-happy twits rejoined us in normal time, so I ran off down a side hallway and hoped for the best. Soon I could hear the gunshots resume. Up ahead I could see a large vent in the ceiling, so I reversed gravity to land next to it and climb inside; a bit of crawling later and I emerged in the same elevator shaft as earlier. I quickly hopped back up to the wall I had been blown right through and prepared to retrace my steps. That’s when I saw something that brought me to a screeching halt.

The three alchemar-equipped guards we had been fighting earlier? They were still out cold, strewn across the room at random. No way they were the ones who sounded the alarm, as Kari had suggested. Isn’t that suspicious.

“All units, co—"

A radio clipped to one of the downed guards was bursting with sound and static. Snatching it up, I adjusted the dial to get a clearer signal.

“Repeat: intruder has doubled back towards main elevator! Requesting backup!”

I ground my teeth in anticipation. Sure enough, it was only a matter of seconds before Kari came bounding out of the shaft, stopping short with wide eyes when she spotted me standing there.

“What’s up, Kari?” I asked. “Looks like it wasn’t these pricks who set off the alarm. Got any other ideas?”

Kari put on a smile as she casually walked off to the side. “Roche...didn’t expect you to head this way. Well, uh, who knows? Maybe someone spotted them, or…”

She trailed off as she realized I was increasing gravity on her. “Or. Maybe someone with a time-bending alchemar moved so quickly she was able to tap a pressure plate before her associates had a chance to notice.”

The next instant, Kari was right in front of me pressing a gun into my forehead. “Fascinating theory. Supposing it’s true, what would you do next?”

“Oh, I don’t know, ask her to explain her evil plan probably.”

“Hehe, ‘evil’? That’s adorable. You’re expecting something far more elaborate than what your associate is going for, darling.” She tapped her skirt with her free hand. “I just pocketed half the pills I found. It’ll take the good doctor a bit to reverse-engineer them, and in the meantime, I’ll be able to turn a profit unloading my own inventory.”

I should’ve expected as much, really. Gritting my teeth, I said, “I dunno, still sounds pretty evil to me.”

Kari rolled her eyes. “Oh, lighten up, Roche. Look at it this way: a few people are going to have access to the drug a little sooner than planned, and at a lower price than MiliGrand is asking. Is it so wrong that I get a little bonus out of it?”

“You really don’t get it.”

Nearby yelling alerted us to the approaching guards. Kari pulled back with a smirk, and the two of us dashed back towards the entrance we had used, narrowly avoiding bullets all the way. Kari stayed more than a few steps ahead—doubt she would have heard me even if I had said anything. Eventually we made it to the meetup point, finding Doc already waiting there, exuding relief at the sight of us.

“I’m so glad you two are okay!” she said. “That was a close call, wasn’t it?”

“Nothing to worry about, darling,” Kari said. “Escaping a place like this easy for any proper Phantom Thief.”

“Yeah,” I said, “and you too, I guess.”

Twirling her gun in her hand, Kari said, “Goodness, Roche, no need to be so petty. Let’s go back to HQ and celebrate a job well done.”

I turned to Witch Doctor. “She pocketed some pills.”

Pain. Thankfully alchemars’ protective fields can be left on even when the main power isn’t active, keeping us alive when greedy assholes shoot us in the side of the head, but the bullet still hurts like hell.

“You just had to spoil the good mood, didn’t you?” Kari said.

Doc jumped and backed away. “K...Kari! What are you doing?!”

“I gave him fair warning, and it’s not like he’s dead. Look at what you’ve done, Roche: she’s distressed.”

It might not have been quite on par with getting blasted through a wall, but getting shot still proved enough to push me over my limit. “Kari, why the hell did you even join the Phantom Network?! If you’re only in this for the money, then you don’t understand what sets us apart from the elite bastards we’re stealing from!”

Kari seemed unimpressed by my display. “I’m sorry, have I hampered your noble cause in any way? It’s not as though I’ve taken all the pills for my own, or swapped them out with fakes or any such thing. I’m simply—"

“Securing more money for yourself, I know. You weren’t satisfied with what Doc had already promised you, so you didn’t see anything wrong with helping yourself to whatever else you wanted.”

“No, I don’t. As I just said, the numbers—"

“It’s not about the damn numbers! That’s my entire point! We may need to turn a profit to make ends meet, but the rest of us are doing this because we care about what the Phantom Network represents! We’re surviving this system to do our part to bring it down, but you’re trying to use it for your own benefit!”

She shot me again. I didn’t really care.

“You don’t even know what ‘honor among thieves’ means. You’re just a common criminal who doesn’t care about anyone but herself!”

Kari was taking aim for a third shot when Witch Doctor shouted, “Stop! That’s enough!”

We both went still.

“...Please. Let’s just head back. All that really matters is that we’ve got the drug. I don’t…”

She trailed off. My frustration had waned a bit by now, so I was actually feeling just a little bit guilty. Kari holstered her gun and said, “Excellent idea. Shall we, Roche?”

Tempting. Quite tempting. “Fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

And I did. Doc paid us and got right to work reverse-engineering the drug, and in less than a week she was taking it to contacts in medical facilities around the world. I’m sure Kari had sold out her inventory well before then. Much as she pisses me off, the fact is that what she does just isn’t any of my business, so I’m not gonna tattle on her to the Network Admin or anything. But there’s no way in hell I’m working with her again. Even a wonder drug wouldn’t be enough to get her to change.

#original #Phantom Network

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