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cannibal-witchh · 3 years

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"I'm No Hero, Lady"

Reader(fem) x Carlos Oliveira

Written by cannibal_witchh

Contains: Violence, gore, vulgar language, some fluff

Notes: I previously wrote a fluff fanfic about Carlos snuggling the reader in bed during a storm. The reader had a nightmare about the past which was the incident in Racoon City. This is the scenario that occurred when the reader is saved by Carlos before the end up together.

The previous story:

The city was cast in flames, the fire resembled an angry ocean of embers, quickly devouring collapsing buildings and destroyed vehicles. The decaying humans once recognizable, slowly met the fate of existing as the undead, as putrefing skin consumed them. There were several minutes of sickening screams, gnashing of teeth, buildings crumbling, and the blazing of an angry sea of heat. And the following after that was stilled silence, painful, vacant, lifeless, and numbing. The air almost seemed heavy, ears desperate and clawing for a sound to be stirred.

Several hours had past since a violent rage of a deadly pandemic disturbed Racoon City. You had been locked away in your supervisor's office at the museum, alone and terrified. You possessed no expierence in defense, you were simply a staff member of the local museum. It wasn't until an unfamiliar face offered you help, it was an incredibly risky gamble to take, but it was either be supposedly 'saved' or stay under a desk in a poorly protected office for however long.

"Y/N, I'm gonna need you to stay close to me, there's too many of those freaks roaming around, and from the little knowledge disclosed they are very contagious. A bite, maybe a scratch, will cause a nasty infection.", Carlos informed as you nervously followed closely behind. He was leading you through the south wing of the museum where the dinosaur fossils were displayed. It was eerie, the entire large room completely in darkness, and Carlos' gun light being the only illumination you both had. " Relax, I took all these fuckers out already. You're safe, lady. " he looked over his shoulder at you and gave a warm grin. It was hard to find complete emotional relief but he certainly was charming. His shaggy dark hair brushing on his forehead and above his brown eyes, his olive muscular figure, and his scruffy beard. He definitely was handsome and unusually young to be working in this field. " How many of them were there?", you whispered, darting your eyes all around the room, examining for any movement or noise.

" Maybe twenty, there wasn't too many."

" What about how many survivors you and your team found?"

" Sadly, just fifteen. Either civilians refused help and barricaded themselves in. Or they were found too late and turned into one of those monsters."

" That's awful.", you felt the sting of reality flood through your body. Just fifteen. You continued pacing attentively behind him as he held his rifle close against his chest. "Walk carefully over here, this is where I had to clear a group of them out.", he muttered as you both managed to enter the corridor leaving the fossil room. There were adleast ten dead bodies scattered along the ground. Gore staining the white tiles, the stench of expiration filling the narrow hall, and decoral tarnished and destroyed everywhere. Discomposure deluged your body, you froze, standing idle, and quivering. It was an electric feeling of absolute fear that paralyzed you. You would have to maneuver around carcuses that could still possibly be alive, and you were not in proper attire to protect yourself at all from their attacks. You dressed in a tight grey houndstooth pencil skirt, and a silk mint collared blouse. Definitely not fit for an apocalypse. Carlos turned facing you, realizing you had stopped following him. His expression was serious for a few seconds, and a few times he would glance behind him confirming nothing was there. " C'mon, Y/N, we don't have much time." He beckoned

" I can't, I'm afraid."

"I cleared all this hallway, I promise. I won't let them hurt you.'

"I'm sorry Carlos. I'm too afraid...", you admitted with humiliation.

" Lady, ugh...don't hit me ok?", he playfully smiled and swung his rifle around his back. He plodded over to you and quietly scooped you up against his chest. He let out a awkward giggle and started to regain his balance with your weight. For someone who just witnessed this horrible pandemic, killed the undead, and did this independently he sure was calm. It was comforting, though. "Sorry, but I'm not leaving you behind nor am I wasting time.", he glanced over at you, making brief eye contact. His eyes were soft, it didn't display the slightest fear, and his hair swayed side to side above his gentle eyes. For someone roaming around in rubble, blood, and sweat, his aroma smelled wonderful. He smelled of spices and his own sweat. It was strange but he didn't smell too bad. Carlos coggled back ahead, carefully stepping over corpses, and just as he promised, they really were all dead. Occasionally, he would bounce you up to gain more security when holding you. You draped your arms tightly around his neck to stay supported. His breathing was slow and quiet against your face as he carried you closer and closer to the exit. " Do me a favor, please. Please watch my back.", he requested finally making it to the exit. The exit sign flickered red, static occasionally sparking from the sign, and shimmering down onto the ground. You looked over Carlos' shoulder and with your relief, nothing was there. No rustles and no movements. Carlos was struggling to open the door, he continued to press against the bar of the wide door a few times until he finally gave up. " Fuck!", he quietly shouted as he stepped back from the door. He took a few more steps back until he had a little space between the door and him. He lifted his foot up and kicked out the door. The door rattled loudly and swung wide open. " Thank God,", he sighed in relief as he transported you outside the museum.

"OK, ok, you can let me go. Sorry, for the trouble. ", you bashfully removed your arms from over his neck, and he slowly lowered you to your feet. "Didn't like being held, huh? I'm just kidding, let's keep going.", he teased as he began walking down the alongated museum alleyway. The two of you had finally made it out of the museum, and the alleyways seemed relatively tame. There wasn't too many corpses lurking down it. And the ones that did approach the two of you, Carlos would resolve with a knife to their skull and quickly they would collapse. He tried not to resolve issues with his gun unless it was when it was absolutely out of control. A few minutes of carefully walking down the backstreet, there was an abrupt crash of shattering glass behind you. It startled you and you immediately drew your eyes to the direction of the loud sound. " C-Carlos...", you stuttered backing away in terror. The virus effected animals too. A large dog had launched itself out of the window, snarling and foaming blood from between its teeth. He stood in an agressively pose, not removing its eyes on Carlos or you. " Try staying quiet, Y/N. We don't need to attract more attention."

"P-p....please shoot it..", your eyes watered on the verge of a break down.

The dog darted forward directly at you, something yanked at your wrist pulling you backwards. Carlos had grabbed you leading you both into a full on sprint. " I don't want to fire off in such a small space. I'm not sure if other freaks are around and they'll go towards the sound. We have to be careful." He quickly clarified, dragging you by the wrist to the very end of the alley. The dog continued racing towards the two of you, snarling and barking loudly. "Carlos!!!", the dog jumped forward at you, nearly biting your arm but a bullet dove forward directly into its skull. The dog flew backwards in a pained whimper. " Shit!", Carlos cursed in frustration, he moved his head around examining all directions. " Fuck, fuck, fuck...we gotta go!", he gripped your wrist and began to guide the both of you back towards the middle of the alley. The dead had be drawn to all the barking and the gun shot. Unfortunately, a group was forming on both ends of the alleyway, and blocking any escape. " Y/N, look! ", a broken fire escape ladder hung in the middle of the alley, it was the absolute only opportunity to escape. Carlos squated down, holding his hands together to give you a boost up to it. " Go, go, go, ", he chanted trying to sound as hopeful as he could. You hoped up and grabbed the ladder, with as much strength as you could gather, you began to pull yourself up. The swarm of creatures got closer and closer and you feared for Carlos' safety. Come on climb already! He jumped as high as he could, latching on to the ladder, and pulling himself quickly up. He let out multiple gasps of air in exhaustion and then gestured with his head to continue climbing all the way up. "Let's get all the way up, away from these fuck faces!", you both felt rattling from the fire escape with each step and climb you both took. You felt unsecure having your weight, Carlos', and his equipment. Within a few minutes of climbing up very high, you both managed to get to the roof of the building. Carlos immediately dropped his gun to the ground and laid on his back. For minutes, he laid there breathing heavily as if he ran a marathon. You walked a few feet away from him, dropping to the ground, and covering your face in your palms. So many emotions churned inside your mind, you were exhausted, terrified, confused, and livid. What was going on? Tears began collecting in your eyes, you failed to suppress the tense emotions clenching your chest, your body quivering in shock, and you began to fall apart in your own hands.

"What's wrong, Y/N? Are you hurt?", a large hand squeezed your shoulder.

" No..., I just, I dont know if I can take all this.", you sniffed continuing to conceal your face away from Carlos'. You felt his large arms wrap around you, pulling you close against him, and he rested his head against your's. " I get it. I'm scared shitless too. But you know what, we aren't doing so bad. We've survived this long."

" I only survived because you decided to be a hero and save me! I would've died on my own. I'm useless!", you cried, feeling tears escape between your finger tips. "Woah, no, you aren't useless. Its not like every other day a random pandemic hits and you get used to this stuff. I've never dealt with this shit before in my life. This is new. Everyone is just trying to survive, you made it on your own for hours with no help. Don't be so hard on yourself." Carlos brushed his large hands against your arms trying his best to calm you. He wasn't exactly great with words but you could tell he tried to make effort. You lowered your hands, revealing your tired red eyes, your face sticky and hot from crying. You felt embarrassed but it was just so difficult to keep it together. " We are almost out of here, chin up.", he grinned, squeezing you against him warmly. " T-Thank you, I'm so sorry you're putting up with my shit.", you glanced from the corner of your eyes at him, too embarrassed to completely turn over to show your reddened face. " Stop. Look at me.", you obeyed his request, although it was hard, you turned to face him. " This is what I'm here for. I want to help and I am happy to help you. Its a plus that you're a cute lady running around in a pencil skirt too. " He teased patting the top of your head, ruffling your hair and giving a light hearted giggle.

Unexpectedly, Carlos' walkie talkie beeped and static flooded through for a brief moment. " Carlos, where are you? Are you alive?"

"Tyrell, I'm alive, surprisingly. I'm up on a roof across Racoon City's museum with one survivor."

"Good! I hadn't heard from you for hours wanted to make sure you weren't having too much fun. So you only found one survivor?"

"Just one. I looked in several areas in the B territory but either the survivors were barricading themselves and uncooperative or turning."

" Shit, well, the boss man says we have to make this our last run. Things are getting bad and we are borderline at max capacity. Hurry up! I will stall."

There was a beep following static and it then it ended. " Looks, like we have to go. I have to take you to the exit we made. There will be a bus and they will take you far from this city to safety."

"What about you? You make it sound like you're not coming?"

"My commands remain. I have to stay."

You felt your cheeks buzz with heat, he was directed to remain?

****

Carlos and you had waited on the roof top for adleast half an hour. He had given Tyrell an update before the two of you finally climbed down the ladder. Luckily, all the zombies had migrated else where. The two of you quietly hurried, it took nearly another fourty minutes before you finally saw a buses gathered by an exit. It was filled with a civilians, and surrounded by military workers. You felt relief hit you, as you saw other evidence of survivors and humanity. You looked over at Carlos, he turned to face you completely, and he placed a hand on your shoulder. "It was a pleasure helping you.", he smiled, squeezing your shoulder as he walked you to the bus. A doctor on his team examined you for any signs of infections before you boarded, thankfully, you were ok. Thanks to Carlos. You entered the bus and turned around to properly depart from Racoon City, and to depart from your hero. " Thank you, Carlos. You really are a hero.", you smiled displaying truely appreciation. Carlos chuckled for a second and shook his head. " I'm no hero, lady. Hopefully, I see you around. Hopefully, still running around in a cute pencil skirt! ", he winked playfully, as blush scattered across his face and your's. Was he flirting with you? "Just try finding me at museum then. Well, thank you, Carlos. Really. Thank you.", you leaned forward and pecked his cheek.

"Until then."

The bus door closed, and you moved to your seat. You watched as the bus began to leave, your eyes fixed on Carlos, as your view grew smaller and smaller of the city and him. You hoped maybe one day you would see him again. You hoped your hero would survive this. You believed he would.

#resident evil #re3 #re3 remake #resident evil 3 #resident evil 3 remake #carlos x reader #carlos oliveira x reader #carlos oliveira imagine #carlos oliveira fanfic #carlos oliveira #fanfic #resident evil fanfic

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fafulous · 4 years

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Take Me Home (2/5)

Andy Barber x Reader (Post!Defending Jacob)

Summary: After the unfortunate events of the trial and after, a depressed Andy Barber decides to call it quits and start a mundane life far away from Newton. He decides it is best to have a fresh start away from prying eyes and alone, but he never thought his caring neighbor (and her son) would change all of that.

Themes: MAJOR D.J. SPOILERS ((The series is following the BOOK ENDING and not Show)), Sad and soft Andy Barber, Single Mother Reader. Cursing.

a/n: I dedicate this chapter to my LOML @sinner-as-saint. Happy Birthday Darling! ILY!

Part 1

Warnings: Small Hints of Abuse.

—

It was your full day shift at the library

You still couldn’t stop thinking about that horrid graffiti left out on Andrew’s Garage door. Why would anyone write something so horrific? It is never a common occurrence to accuse someone of being a murderer; Besides, you didn’t even truly know who the man was.

In one of your breaks while sipping on your hot cocoa, your curiosity got the best of you and googled about him. Those amateur press reporters wouldn’t crowd around a random vandalism; you knew something was up.

To your dismay, you came across terrifying articles of his family. Specifically, about his son.

You read about how Andrew Barber, the Local district attorney of the Newton County was found to be tangled in a murder case because of his son. You didn’t bother to read further for the headlines were awful; described how his 14-year-old son was in trial for the murder of his own classmate.

The details were too horrifying. The press reported every court proceeding but you didn’t proceed to read about what happened. Perhaps his son went to jail? Or he was declared not guilty but was separated from his family? You thought how a good handful of weeks passed and he had absolutely no visitors to his house. Best decision you made was to close the articles for it made you sick to the stomach.

Not only did it feel like you were invading on someone’s privacy, it was also not difficult to picture your son in Jacob Barber’s shoes.

You felt bad for the man, you really did. But then you recalled how he questioned your parenting. It takes years to build self-confidence, but just one statement to shatter it all.

It didn’t feel right reading about your neighbour, it felt like you were a stalker. And so, you resumed to stock up and label the new pile of books.

The Librarian desk was placed in such a way that you would immediately know if anyone entered the library. It would normally be teenagers and college go-ers labelled as nerds who would spend hours and hours of studying and reading. But this time, the one approaching your desk was the last person you ever wanted to see.

Nikolai’s father.

A week ago, Chad did make an appearance into your life out of the blue, asking you to take him back. But you couldn’t for you believed in two things: Your self-respect wasn’t weak, and that Nikolai didn’t deserve a pathetic excuse of a father. After you found out about his infidelity, you mentally decided not to take him back and that was a final decision.

You dropped whatever you were doing and made a beeline to Chad. “You can’t drop in during work like this.”

Quarter of an hour perhaps was spent on arguing back and forth in whispers. You will never deny that how it would be perfect for Nikolai to grow up with a father, but you kept reminding yourself not to give in to him.

“Listen Y/N. I really am sorry for barging like you on this. I want to make things right. “

“You can’t Chad,” you whispered, “I can’t. It is not fair to Nikolai and to me. Just go.”

Chad suddenly pushed you back to one of the bookshelves by gripping your shoulders. His shoulder touches were something that he used to do to offer you comfort at times of distress. But now this was causing you stress.

He gritted his teeth. “Why can’t you just fucking take me back?”

“Because I wasn’t the one who slipped into my co-worker’s vagina!”

Before you realised Chad was going to get unpleasant with you, another familiar voice interrupted the small run-in.

“Hey everything alright?”

You turned around to the stern voice only to see your neighbour, Andrew. You were fixated on him to the point where you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

He looked so handsome.

He was wearing a formal dark navy suit, his tie almost matching his hair colour. His hair and beard were neatly groomed with just a hint of messy. His beautiful trench coat accentuated his arm muscles. He did look like a textbook District Attorney.

Andy on the other hand exchanged looks between the both of you, glaring at the man who dare pushed you back against the bookshelf. He got near to them which made Chad leave his grip and take a few steps away from her.

Chad continued the conversation with you without acknowledging the intruder’s existence. “I’m going to leave now. Think about it. I’ll come in a few days to pick up Nikolai.” He soon left, making sure he didn’t make eye contact with the formal dude who seemed to be much taller to him.

Andy approached you cautiously while your hand pressed the wrinkles off of your shoulders. “Couldn’t help but hearing the whole co-worker slipping into your vagina statement. That man your ex?”

Dealing with two arrogant men simultaneously was not something you signed up today. “Be careful Mr. Barber, the attorney in you is showing.”

Andy stiffened his shoulders but did not let go of his grin. He liked a woman who was snappy, especially when he has seen the caring side of you. “So, you know about me?”

“I can take care of myself,” deflecting from his question. You didn’t want to admit about your slip up that you read about him from an online article. “You didn’t have to do that whole saviour stunt on me Mr. Barber,” you walked away from him, heading outside the library to catch a breath of fresh air. Andy followed you like a puppy would.

“You didn’t have to do it alone too, Miss”

You noticed how he didn’t call you formally. “Andrew, I told you I-I am never going to have a conversation with you ever.”

“I know I know.” He paused and you crossed your arms, waiting for him to say something while you admired the beauty of his trench coat on his frame.

“I need to talk to you.”

“I’m busy. M-my shift ends in an hour.”

“I can wait.”

“No Andrew, my car is in the repairs and I’m bailing on my assistant to drop me home-“

“I can drop you. We literally live next to each other. Please Y/N,” He neared you, anxiously looking over at you, “Give me this tiny speck of a chance.”

You stood there trying to pull off a stern look, trying so hard not to display you inhaling his musky cologne that made you excited. Who would’ve thought you would fall for a meanie who just had a pair of needy, blue eyes?

“Alright fine,” you said giving in. “Read a book or something inside.”

Andy was happy at his sweet victory.

In that time Andy decided to look through the well-ventilated library. It was quite spacious, his senses hitting with the smell of old books and natural pesticides to keep the books from deteriorating. There were enough tables for people to sit and read at their leisure. He even recognized familiar books he used to read with Laurie every night. It was an intimate ritual for them; so eventually for the past few months, he gave up on reading.

Andy then noticed you scuttling around for a while till you plopped on your desk. Your work attire was silk white blouse with a yellow pencil skirt. There was a strut of confidence every time you took a step or gave orders to her assistant.

Neither of you would deny the lingering glances you gave each other in that time.

An hour passed and both of you stood outside near his beautiful black car.

“What is it Andrew?”

“I wanted to sincerely apologize to you. This is not right I know. I know I’ve hurt your feelings and this apology doesn’t even cover it. I stepped out of line many times even though you remained to be kind to me.”

You puffed out a breath of air. Judging by the tone of his voice, you knew the man before you were being sincere.

“Just let me make it up to you one day at a time please. It would kill me if I didn’t do anything.”

“Y-you don’t have to anything Mr. Barber. Its just-“

“I know take your time. I hope we could hit the refresh button excluding the part where I make it up to you.”

“Yeah no um- I also owe you another thanks for helping back at the Library- uh Chad? The bloke you interrupted me with?”

Andy nodded. “It was nothing really. So, can we start fresh?” He extended his hand to you and a firm handshake was exchanged.

“Apology accepted I suppose.”

Soon you found yourself in Andy’s car, who was kind to even open the door for you. Chivalry isn’t dead.

For now.

The ride back was quiet, you observing in the interiors of the sleek black car. The seat felt so comfortable, along with the man beside you. A comfortable silence prevailed the drive back home, Andy popping in superficial questions about your work and Nikolai and vice versa.

“So any plans for tonight?”

“Nikolai wanted to watch a Disney movie tonight with some Chicken Lasagne. Oddly, specific I know but kids these days, right?”

“Yeah.” You noticed how his face fell slightly and so you tried to change the topic. “What about you?”

“The usual. Netflix and Takeout. Trying to cut on the beer though you know with the new job and all.”

“Thanks for the drive back home Mr. Barber.”

He took this as a good sign. “From now on you can call me Andy.”

“Listen Mr. Barber- Andy I have to get something off of my chest. “

Andy unbuckled his seat belt and faced you, unsure of what she wanted to say. “Sure please, go ahead.”

“Okay Andy. I just want to clear the air that only know about you as an attorney because my curiosity irked me after your whole garage shed incident. I didn’t dig much because I felt like the inner me was being like a creep.”

He raised his eyebrows heart slightly sinking that you had already become the judge of his character. “So, you do know about me then?”

“Not more than how your son was involved in a murder trial,” you fumbled. “I don’t know the outcome and I don’t know why I am telling you all of this oh my god.”

Andy chuckled to see you covering your face in embarrassment, feeling a little relieved to know that you didn’t have much of an idea of who he was. He reassured her that it was completely fine, and you saw you going back home.

The next couple of days went smoother for both you and Andy. After a week it seems you and Andy always left home for work at the same time, passing casual morning greetings…which you had to do by successfully covering your blush because he never failed to look nothing less than good looking even though he was now just a swimming instructor.

Andy told you that day he apologized to you at the library was the day when he gave in an interview for the Swimming Instructor position opened at the community gym. He said it was something he used to do in his free time, and he wanted to give it a shot

You weren’t even surprised to find your mind in the gutter when you thought about Andy in skin-fit Speedos that stuck to his thick thighs and broad back. Or would he just wear trunks? You smacked your head; this what happens when the last time you got laid was two years back…

No offense to your expensive vibrator.

Andy would drop you to work if you didn’t feel like it and pick you up too. He even would take Nikolai alone for car rides which he enjoyed.

“Mommy! Wandi car go zooooom!”

He once popped into the library telling you that he would like to be a member. You would have never thought that this man was a bookworm. He soon told you how he used to have a habit of reading a book every night and now that he wants to revive it.

Normally for new inquisitive children or young adults who wanted recommendations to begin the practice of reading was handled by your assistant, Tracy. You weren’t surprised when Tracy was almost proactive when she saw Andy. But to the utter dismay of your assistant, Andy wanted to hear it from you.

Its not like you won a battle with your assistant, but you happily concurred with you head held high. He wants me. (You smacked yourself mentally again, jealousy is an ugly stain).

“How do I know you’re not bluffing Andy?” you whispered.

“Hey hey,” he leaned nearer to your ears. “I’m new to this place and I want a couple of books and recommendations that’s all. It can get lonely at home sometimes.”

As Andy and you spoke over books, you saw he had no shred of the hostility he had in these past few weeks. Andy also noticed how you looked much more comfortable than you were initially. For the both of you a new friendship was blooming.

For now.

“What kind of books are you into Mr. Barber?”

“Well I was the thriller and mystery kind, but things have changed, looking for a change rather. Nothing old sticks on to me now.”

“Ah yes. Every reader has that phase and I have just the solution.”

He was almost puzzled when you took him to the young adults section and handed over two books or rather two parts of a beautiful story.

“Harry Potter? Isn’t that a children’s book?”

“Objection your honour!” You went on to tell him the premise of the books without spoiling much for him. It suddenly struck him that Jacob had these books at home too. But he was able to push the twinge away when he hears your sweet whispers of excitement. He did complain he has watched the movies but the bookworm in him knew that books are always better than the movies.

“Okay okay! Objection is sustained.” He laughs. A genuine laughter after what seemed like eons.

You didn’t want the conversation to end. It felt refreshing to talk to Andy and so you felt generous.

“You can drop the usual food takeout today yeah? When was the last time you had home cooked meal?

Andy thought for a while. “An awfully long time Y/N. It’s okay-“

“Dinner is at my house. No excuses.”

Andy found a little purpose to be excited in life.

–

On Mondays, Andy comes home with a bottle of wine to beat the heat of a horrid Monday morning.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, Andy flaunts his cooking skills to you and Nikolai. Surprisingly, he has not lost his touch over cooking. He loved it how the little boy gets the food names all jumbled up and how, much to your embarrassment, he would ask him for food requests. Can we have Pawsta and bwed? Or Can we have spwagety?

Wednesdays and Fridays, Andy chilled out on your sofa having a tea party or fighting an alien invasion with Nikolai while you effortlessly cooked to your delight.

It’s almost become a ritual over as the weeks go by. Andy and you talk a lot, but never about each other. Both of you talk about books, or debate over politics or even talk about movies.

It was in these nights when both of you unintentionally spills the beans of your past.

First was Andy when was discussing about how he loved the Harry Potter books you suggested that the waterfall of backstories began. After dinner got over both of you sat on your couch talking about the day’s work, while Nikolai fiddled with toys on the cushioned chair. He mentioned how Jacob had these books.

“Who is Jacob?”

Andy looked ahead at Nikolai sitting at one of the comfort chairs with a couple of his figurines while his eyes fought with slumber, “My son.”

“Oh, how is he? Is he with his mother now?”

Maybe it was too soon to ask. You literally saw with your own eyes how Andy’s eyes drooped, and his figure slumped before you. It even became confusing when he shook his head slightly sideways.

Realising you may have overstepped a line, you tried to steer the conversation to another direction, but Andy blurted it out as if he needed to remind himself the truth.

“Jacob died in a car accident and his mother is in prison for the very same.”

Whispering a oh my god underneath your breath while covering your mouth didn’t stop your eyes from pricking with tears.

Andy narrated the events of the trial briefly while he grabbed the bottle of wine drinking from it directly, not getting in too detail. He mentioned how his son was dropped of all the charges and how after one vacation, everything changed. He mentioned how his now ex-wife successfully attempted to kill Jacob in a car crash because she was convinced that her son was the actual murderer.

Andy was numb to this story (the kinder version where you didn’t know he was the son of the murderer Billy Barber) and he didn’t realise the kind of reaction it would evoke from someone who had no idea about his past. Guess he was surrounded with nosy people all his life until now.

He internally panicked to you see your tearful state.

“Andy I’m so sorry.”

In an instinct you pulled Andy to you, arms wrapped around his shoulders in a hug. Andy needed a hug so bad he may have wrapped his arms around you an inch closer while he rubbed your back in assurance. He heard your small sniffles, which made him hug you tighter.

His hoarse reassuring whispers that he was alright made you even more devastated. “Hey look Y/N. I am alright okay?”

You pulled away from his embrace in embarrassment. Andy’s heart was hard as a rock, he gave you a half-hearted smile, “God I’m such a fool sometimes. Quick to come to conclusions. I shouldn’t have been so judgmental.”

“If you’re forgetting that was me a couple of weeks back.” His gently touched your cheeks wiping a tear or two away. “Hey come on now. Tears don’t suit you momma bear.”

“So, I’m a bear now huh?”

A little giggle came out of your lips and Andy felt warm. Your mind was fluttering as Andy still stroked your cheek with his thumb. You never realised could be so soothing until a worried Nikolai tried to scramble up on both of your laps.

“Mommy why you cwying?”

“Nothing peaches. Its just-“

“I ate your mommy’s cookies Nikolai,” Andy interrupted earning a dramatic gasp from the little boy while you stifled your laughter.

“Its okay Wandi. Mommy you can take the cookies fwom my jahr. Don’t cwy mommy”

After a series of awws from the two adults, Nikolai went back to his toys. It was time for Andy to leave, standing on the threshold of your house.

“This fresh start is not happening for me at all Y/N. You have been such a wonderful person entertaining me these nights but, I still can’t sleep you know. It’s haunting.”

“Andy,” you still sniffed. “The minute the garage incident was over, that was the minute you stepped away from prying eyes. No one is going to bother you now Andy. You can start fres, infact I think you already did. You bagged a Swimming Instructor shift at the local gym, you have got a new house and most importantly, or not, is that you have Nikolai and Me.

“We all have skeletons in our closet Andy, that’s the unfortunate truth. Its not going to be easy but life has to go on because little do you know you have people depending on you.”

Andy knew you were referring to Nikolai, but for him he had no one depending on him. What was the point of moving on?

“Good night Y/N”

He only left the threshold after he realised you had placed a kiss on his cheek and gave him a hug on your tiptoes.

Another night, it was your turn.

Andy soon realised Nikolai wasn’t anywhere around the house. The toys were neatly placed, and the Television wasn’t running. Music was playing from your phone, but it was low and from the smell of it, you were cooking Chicken Lasagne, Nikolai’s favourite dish.

“Where is Niko? Is he sleeping?”

“He is with his father and the grandparents.”

The dinner went awfully quiet, sure he tried to sneak conversations here and there, but he wasn’t able to hold it. He learned how you decided to actually listen to Chad’s wishes under the conditions that his grandparents would be around. Andy saw your little smile when he learned that Nikolai was extremely reluctant to go with his father. A rational side of you didn’t want to separate Nikolai from his father.

It was while you were flipping through the channels that you broke out like a dam.

“You know Andy, what you heard that day in the library was the truth you know.”

“Niko’s father Chad?”

“It was Nikolai’s first birthday. We were all gathered at home for a small birthday party. Chad and I called in our co-workers that day. In the name of this little one everyone began drinking by around four when we scheduled the party at six.”

Andy noticed how you sardonically laughed in between.

“Before we could cut the cake, I went in search of Chad because Niko wouldn’t cut the cake without him. So, I went around searching for him because I remember Chad was kind of drunk. And then I find him in our room fucking his co-worker while he screamed her name.”

You looked below and began fidgeting with your fingernails. “The next half an hour went in a haze. The guests left. Chad and I went hysteric. We were at each other’s throat. I screamed at him and Chad somehow became sober and began to um- hit me uhm-“

You were breaking and Andy didn’t want to ask you to stop narrating. You must have trusted him enough to talk about something that you evidently found traumatic. Andy scooted closer and took your palms in his hands.

“And I didn’t even realise how I was scarring Niko. He was sitting on the couch all alone scared at our hysterics. In that half hour I- I- forgot about him. The guests were gone, and he didn’t cry. Niko just sat there with his beady eyes clutching his figurines, looking at me in horror after that bastard went up to his room like nothing mattered. I’m the reason for Nikolai’s state.”

“Hey what state Y/N?” Andy stroked your cheek; the lines of formality were blurred between you two. Right now, it was just one soul comforting another in a time of agony. “Nikolai is such perfect child. I have never seen such a brilliant three-year-old in my life.”

You whimpered, “N-Niko hates birthdays. The sight of candles on a cake make him cry and disturbed. H-his nursery is left incomplete because he has these terrible nightmares when he is left alone. He comes crying in horror even if I try to let him sleep alone for once. He always sleeps with me. W-what if I damaged him Andy? Wh-what if he likes his father more in this visit? What if he leaves me?”

You sobbed uncontrollably into Andy’s chest. He didn’t hesitate in cradling you and stroking your hair. He pulled you closer, leaning back at the couch. He waited for your crying to die down.

“You’re such an amazing mother darling,” he whispered, the loving nickname going unnoticed because it seemed so right, “So caring, so kind. Nikolai loves you, you know that right?”

He felt you nodding your head at his chest while none of you bothered to acknowledge how both of your legs were intertwined now. Andy scooted lower on the sofa, lying down with you still cradled to him.

“Chad was a fucking scoundrel okay? Anybody would have reacted like that like you did.” Andy gritted his teeth when he recalled that he hit you but suppressed his emotions because his emotions wasn’t important now. “Nikolai is going to be simply fine. When he comes back, he’s going to run into your arms and say how much he missed you and then proceed to ransack the living room with his toys.”

That genuinely made you laugh. You didn’t want to let go of Andy. His cologne was calming. His sweater shirt was soft. You even felt his little belly; he did mention he was drinking a lot of beer and whiskey when he can’t sleep in the night. It felt so intimate; it felt so right in spite the fact the neither of you are dating.

“You’re a good man Andy.”

Andy places a chaste kiss on your forehead. He saw your cheeks scrunch up, like you were blushing. His lips felt soft on your forehead, a warmth running through the both of you. Andy decided to leave but your grip on his meant something else. Looking down, he felt your soft breaths on his neck now for you tucked your head on his neck. You must be clingy he wondered, but he didn’t mind. He needed a dose of clingy looking at his current state of life.

“Good Night Y/N.”

He was supposed to get up slowly and untangle from your limbs and spread a blanket on you before he left. He was supposed to go back inside his house and have another round of sleepless nights.

Not cuddle and have a good night’s sleep peacefully with you in your soft sofa?

–

Finally, Saturdays and Sundays are the lazy days, ironically both of you don’t hang out as much on the weekends for deep inside Andy thought he was invading Nikolai and yours family time.

When Nikolai was back the next day, just like Andy had mentioned, he ran into your arms and kissed you so much. He even hugged you harder and said he didn’t want to go back to his father.

“He’s not like Wandi. Wandi likes tea pawties. Papa says tea pawties is for guhls and not for boys.”

“Peaches that’s not true, you can play tea party any time you want. You can play with me and Andy okay?”

“Yeah okay. Can we play tea pawty inside Wandi’s cahr too?”

“Niko!”

Your little boy also managed to change your mother-son ritual into a mother-son-neighbour ritual. He persisted you into calling Andy for the everyday evening picnic at the lawn. You knew your son loved Andy but a little voice asked if this was too much.

Apparently it wasn’t. Andy was extremely happy to join you and Nikolai. He kept asking if it was okay but a few reassurances later Andy joined you with a jar of lemonade. “I may have peaked out of the window and seen your daily picnics. None of them have this baby.” (Of course he was talking about his lemonade).

“Mommi look, Wandi made lemonade! Yaaaay!”

He runs over and hugs Andy as tight as his little hands can.

“I bake this boy five types of cookies and he falls for your lemonade? Blasphemy Andy. What are you doing to my son?” you ask him with feigned wound in your heart.

“Oh Y/N. He’s just found a new friend. Don’t be jealous now.”

Seeing your son and Andy bond made you heart make a little small wish; that Niko and you find a companion like Andy. Wishing for Andy himself is like wishing for a star. Why would this perfect man fall for a broken person like you?

Andy and you spoke while the little boy ran around the lawn with his toys and it was then his senses came alive and he took in his surroundings.

A pink stained sky; clouds imitating to be cotton candy. A beautiful house in a quaint neighbourhood. The faint smell of your warm cookies and refreshing lemonade while your son ran around. A woman of his dreams weaving her palm through the strands of her hair. This was a dreamland.

And in that moment, he scooted near you and he entwined his hands into yours. You were perplexed at what he was doing but you went with the flow. He wanted his utopia.

“Andy? What are you-“

“Y/N, will you go on a date with me?”

After a few minutes later, your answer gave all the reassurance that he finally got his fresh start; that he can finally start a new life without the demons in the closet.

Right?

–

Part 3

–

Taglist (IS OPEN): @art-estrange @sinner-as-saint @captainscanadian, @kakakatey @bluevelvetsam @mrsbarneswillseeyounow @anqelicstarc @lcandothisallday @https-bucky @readermia @chrisevansforever @ruthyalva96 @thedarkplume @sammyfresh @bloglovelylady @stuckys-dirty-girl @rindaastridfreakinreign @buckys-plums3 @marvelouspottering @sweetlittlegingy @emilykjhgsj @poppunkdork @bval-1lovepeacefood @captainchrisstan @hista-girl @xlanawriter @denisemarieangelina @xoxabs88xox @adreamemporium @yoncevans @oceanlenny @ididntchoosethislife @evansinlove @ninaminaromina @sodonutnutnut @nickysurfer28 @captainchrisstan @charmed-asylum @lovepeacefood @trashboggart @elementoffire1988 @kelbabyblue @princess-evans-addict @secretlyactivated @harryismyonlyangel @agentmstark @firstangeldragonranch @tessa-bl @morganclaire4 @i-ship-it-ironically @kiza4 @morganclaire4 @may-machin @shikin83 @lovingonshawn @turtoix @tenaciousperfectionunknown @in-a-constant-daydream6 @dangerdolns @fckdeusername @missus-rogers @themadhattersqueen @heatherhollowayst @littleprincessma @this-is-serenaa @youllbemineandillbeyours @cevans-is-classic @funfickgirl22 @mery-be @jojo-lindholm @evans-dejong

#Andy Barber #Defending Jacob #Andy Barber x reader #Andy Barber Imagines #Chris Evans x reader #chris evans #chris evans imagine #defending jacob spoilers #andy barber smut #andy barber fluff #andy barber angst #chris evans x you #andy barber imagine #defending jacob finale #andrew barber #jacob barber

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srbachchan · 3 years

Text

DAY 4646

fcpfmuthad Nov 19, 2020 Thu 9:24 AM

The strain of having to load the entire spate of self aggrandised selfies , I do believe must have been strenuous and exhausting and entirely boring .. but the desire to connect is always in precedence at the end of the day ..

Not having the legible quality at that hour is of course, no excuse, so the effort to put out some time consuming and at places internet fault consuming activities does make way for a page of the post ..

It is not something that could become a regular feature, but at times it shifts in quite comfortably and comfort at the hour is a blessing ..

Right ..

The desire and will to acquire greater knowledge of subjects hitherto unseen or unheard of or completely un accomplished with is a prominent feature during the course of the day or night or wherever .. books are about, but at times of convenience the object of desire is the one that conveys right now as we converse .. and the greatest convenience is the immediate reference that is so readily available at the press of another square as we think and bring exercise to the balaconied storie upstairs in the confines of the cerebrum ..

So do books and libraries become redundant .. a certain goooglé गूग्ले जी as in the Marathi surname , have such intentions and have perhaps in their internal committee meetings or whatever meets they expose their executives to , discussed the issue in deep consult and in the final execution of such thought ..

So de we be beware ..😁

Convenience yes .. but the smell of those pages as you flip through .. the book markers that keep you abreast of the last page seen .. those little pencil scribbles that you make on the side column of an interesting text .. pencil so you not damage the print .. having the ability to rub it off if needed .. the search with the index finger for the turn of the next page .. and before going on to the first page that name destination date and time on the introduction flap, which as we all know with the passage of time shades away .. and when after several years that reference is seen, a distinct nostalgic memory of when it was acquired, where and the incident at the time ..

That joy .. that nostalgia shall never be replicated by the ‘notes’ app on the mobile or lap top or computer .. never ..

So .. buy the book ..

.. and as suggested yesterday by the bearded saint of udagamandalam .. get the Barack Obama biography or autobiography .. its divine as suggested ..

AND the CROWN in all its glory continues .. what performances .. what writing .. and what a learning on the English language pronunciations .. custom, tradition ceremony , history , opinions , monarchy ... all rolled into one absolutely ‘cannot stop watching’ experience ..

my love to all the Ef .. in particular person for each ..❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Amitabh Bachchan

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lemonpeter · 4 years

Text

Day 17 - Facial Hair Kink (Steve/Peter) pt 1

I went totally overboard with this and I didn’t get into the real smut of it so I’m going to call it pt 1 lol but I hope you enjoy! 🧡 I want to write more but I’m having a shit morning and I’ve got to work all day, so I won’t be able to finish it. But I’ll make a pt 2

Warnings: canon compliant excluding anything after homecoming, 17/18 year old Peter, beard kink, rogue avenger Steve

———

Peter had not been warned that the rogue Avengers were back.

And he had not been warned that fucking Captain America had a hot-ass beard.

Fuck.

He blinked rapidly, looking between Mr. Stark and the rouge-Steve Rogers. When had that happened?

“Uh....”

Tony looked at him, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah...so, Peter, this is Steve. Steve? This is Peter.”

“Yeah, I watch him in detention,” Peter said weakly. Although the Captain America he was used to seeing and rolling his eyes at was much dorkier. And much less...hot.

Great.

Steve raised an eyebrow, looking mildly interested as he listened to the teen. “Detention...?” Then it seemed to dawn on him. “Ah. Yes, I remember those.” He almost looked embarrassed about it.

Peter shrugged. “Just means I’m immune to your disappointment,” he joked. Then he glanced away, brushing his hands through his hair. “Mr. Stark? Can I talk to you? For a moment?”

“I was just about to ask the same thing of you, Pete.” Tony stood up, walking to the doorway that Peter had just stepped through. “Shoot. What’s on your mind?”

“That’s Captain America,” the teen said dumbly.

“It is,” Tony confirmed.

“Isn’t he, like, a criminal?”

Tony sighed softly. “Uh...as of this moment, that is correct. But we’re working on it. For whatever reason,” he grumbled. “So he’s gotta stay here for a bit until we get it all worked out.” He shook his head, clearly not super thrilled with the idea.

“Right. Now...what did you need, Mr. Stark?”

Tony smiled weakly, watching him. “I hate to ask you...but I know you just started break, right? So you’ll be around here a lot. And...I’ll be in and out working on SI and pardoning our fugitives.”

Peter looked at him, expression unreadable for once. “And I’ve got a Spanish take-home test, a history paper to write, a-“

“What’s the paper on?”

“...World War Two,” Peter said weakly.

“Perfect!” Tony clapped his hands. “You can babysit Cap, make sure he stays here, and get firsthand information for your paper! And I’ll be sure to check up on you, okay? It’ll be great. I trust you, kid.”

Peter sighed. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

———

Being put on babysitting duty was incredibly boring to start.

Steve hardly talked at first. He just watched Peter with a weird intensity that kind of unnerved him.

Peter just worked at first, trying his best to ignore him. He still wasn’t exactly happy with Cap because of the whole airport incident. But he was trying to look past it.

And he couldn’t help but look at the captain occasionally. The beard really drew him in.

Of course, he always thought that the other man was attractive. Maybe Mr. Stark had been his sexual awakening, but Captain America definitely helped him confirm his sexuality in younger years.

But the beard really did it for him.

He couldn’t help but imagine that beard between his thighs, leaving a delicious burn; the kind he’d only ever experienced after a brief hookup with someone who at the time he’d believed looked a bit like Mr. Stark. (Don’t drink, kids)

His cheeks flushed as he accidentally made eye contact with the other man again. Whoops. Good thing the Captain wasn’t a mind reader. That would have been mortifying.

Although with the way that Steve was looking at him, he could almost believe that the man could read his every filthy thought that he was having about him.

“What?” He finally asked, setting his pencil down.

Steve’s cheeks flushed lightly and he glanced away again. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Uh- sorry. You just...remind me of...someone.”

Peter gave him a look, raising an eyebrow. “And who would that be?” He didn’t mean to be so snippy, but he was still embarrassed and felt like he got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to.

The tone caught Steve by surprise and he laughed. “Look, there it is again,” he commented. “You remind me...a bit of myself.”

Peter didn’t look amused.

“Before the serum,” Steve clarified.

That didn’t exactly make Peter feel much better. “Weren’t you, like, a hundred pounds before the serum? I’m skinny, but I’m not-“

“I mean, that’s not exactly what I meant.” Steve shook his head. “Just...you’re the spider one, aren’t you? Queens,” he said fondly. “Don’t look so shocked. I remember you. And you’ve got the same attitude. But yeah, you remind me a bit of myself. But...you can already kick ass. I couldn’t even breathe right.” He snorted.

Peter cracked a smile at that. “I had a few health problems before I got my powers too. Needed glasses. Had some...tummy issues.” He blushed lightly. “I was kind of a fragile kid. But not nearly as bad as I heard you were,” he joked.

“No, I’m not sure it’s possible to be as bad as I was,” Steve agreed with a chuckled. One hand stroked over his beard as he thought.

Peter couldn’t tell if he was drooling or not.

The feeling of the hair under his fingertips seemed to stir something in Steve. “I need to shave,” he mumbled. “Does Tony keep a razor around here or anything?”

“Don’t you dare.”

That definitely wasn’t what Peter meant to say.

The comment seemed to startle Steve. “Uh...I mean, I guess I don’t have to...”

Peter coughed, closing his book and brushing a hand through his hair as he looked away. Whoops. Got a little carried away there, Parker. “No, you do what you want. Sorry. That was...weird.”

“Maybe a little.” The older man chuckled, still watching him. “How old are you, kid?” He asked suddenly.

Peter blushed. That question always led to something right out of his inappropriate daydreams. “I-I’m eighteen. Sir.”

Steve hummed. He knew he shouldn’t do anything. Peter was too young. Still in high school. But he could tell the interest was there. And he was legal, so what was the harm? Two consenting adults. It would be alright unless Stark caught them. “Come here.”

He dared to be bold and sat back from the table, patting his thigh like he wanted the young man to sit down.

Peter just stared at him for a moment, mouth open just slightly. He didn’t know what to do. Captain America was totally making a move on him.

Steve seemed to backtrack, brushing a hand through his hair awkwardly. “We don’t need to. I’m sorry.”

Peter shook his head quickly, standing up. Then he plopped himself in the Captain’s lap, eyes wide and cheeks burning. “No. It’s...it’s alright.”

He obviously had no idea what he was doing. He had a very limited knowledge of hookups and what to do, and absolutely no one could prepare him for Steve Rogers.

#bri speaks #peter parker #peter parker x steve rogers #steve rogers #spidershield #spidershield nff #Peter x Steve #my writing #bri does kinktober #kinktober with bri #kinktober 2020

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the-deeds-to-shibden · 3 years

Text

Monday 16th September 1839

[Anne and Ann finally cross the 1839 border (whereupon Anne promptly loses her pen on the road, and just picks up a pencil and continues scribbling without missing a beat), and congratulate themselves on being in Russia, as well as on having avoided their books being temporarily impounded by Imperial censors. Anne passes a very favourable verdict on Finland and the Finns, Ann makes tea, and in spite of the station inn being very far from luxurious, our heroines ingeniously make themselves quite snug and comfortable. The rooms are warm, which is good as Anne has had chillblains in her little finger, and their coachman suffers from lumbago. The inn is, however, all out of chamber pots, and so – foreshadowing a notorious later crockery repurposing incident – the Ann(e)s use a soup tureen instead.]

[up at] 5

[to bed at] 11 35/”

fine morning and Fahrenheit 56.º at 5 a.m. – off at 6 –

Wiborg 18 2/3

Hotoka 17

St. Petersburg 83 2/3

Helsingfors 300

at Lillpero at 7 38/” – off at 7 57/” just out of Wiborg bouldery common i.e. after passing thro’ the suburb with the good church – then from there for some distance thinned young Scotch fir forest a few little corn fields and afterwards rocky bouldery young Scotch fir forest and coarse sandy road as yesterday – Very few cottages but I slept great part of the way looking out every now and then – Lillpero well enough little lone house – Russian – we have met several little waggons loaded with something covered generally with matting – no servant about at Wiborg so gave nothing – from Lillpero to the frontier 86 wersts at 12 kopeks = 26/64 I shall have enough finnish money left – Lillpero in the forest and forest forwards but yesterday generally and today so far the forest less swampy than common – road good – sandy soil as yesterday but road hard and good – the police declined searching the carriage at Wiborg said they could not do it – now (9 10/60) 1st view of sea or lake or water since leaving Wiborg – and now nice woody open country and farm and cottages – a little hamlet passed or farm or 2 about 1/2 hour ago in a break of the forest – fields – no corn out – good flock of sheep recently shorn – 1/2 hour ago saw a plant of cranberry in flower – at beyond the station at 9 13/” had to turn back – alight at our station

Stolpe bod – stolpe, stoop

Baum (beam) tree

at Hotoka comfortable room at 9 1/4 to breakfast – beautiful view from our breakfast room window of the fine wooded fjord – Russian – our bearded landlord very civil and good looking – the men much better looking than the women – breakfast boiled milk and 4 boiled eggs and bread and butter they brought us butter but we had our own and bread spared of yesterday’s dinner – breakfast at 9 38/” to 10 5/” – several nice outbuildings –

“View of the Post Station of Hottoka” (today’s Streltsovo) in 1832 (by V. Langer), seven years before Anne and Ann breakfasted in one of the buildings shown, looking at the “fine wooded fjord” (an inlet of Lake Glubokoye/Muolaanjärvi) on the left (image source):

Hotacka

Lillpero 17 versts

Kyröla 14 versts

St. Petersburg 100 2/3 versts

Viborg 35 2/3

off at 10 19/” thin bouldery young forest and sea (right) couple of hundred yards off very beautiful – and at 10 27/” peep of the sea not far off (left) – at 10 33/” (in 14 minutes) have lost sight of sea except one little glimpse or 2 soon afterwards – and a beautiful peep again of sea (left) – 10 40/” unpainted hamlet 1 street of gable-ends to the road perhaps 200 yards long – the 1st village thus answering Handbook’s description page 142 it is in pretty break of the forest, with nice clean even little corn fields asleep – till at 11 1/2 very picturesque irregular village of Kyröla and our good station – large good one story wood house yellow (but old painted) with white window frames – very nice little neat new-looking fresh painted (yellow with pea green roof)

Krasnoje Selo Hotacka 14

St. Petersburg 87 Pampala 15 1/2

Viborg 49 2/3

Helsingfors 326 2/3

church – and 2 or 3 good houses with red roofs oldish yellow paint I think – the rest of the village hamlet-like and unpainted – by irregular I mean that the middle of the village street swelled out at a sort of large square containing the church and good houses – very pretty about here – fine broad expanse of wooded islandy water left – and extensive view of open wooded country – woody birchy and firs along our road capital road – and not hilly today – this last village of Kyröla or Krasnoje Selo the prettiest we have seen very nice drive this stage – open birchy Scotch fir forest – frequent peeps of the water left – ? dry upland forest – sandy but road good – more hilly than before – the water left must be part of the series of lakes from Viborg that join the Ladoga? – plenty of cranberries all along but the pretty red berries not larger than our bilberries – at 1 3/4 at Pampala good small unpainted lone house

Kyrölä 15 2/3

Kivinebb 13

St. Petersburg 71.

in nice dry airy break in the forest snow plough – a calèche drove up just after us – off at 1 12/” – at 1 22/” (in 10 minutes) nice peep over the forest upon fine wooded extensive country all around us – and several little such peeps past stage from the tops of little hills – sandy but road good – at 2 10/” (right – near) large picturesque church on hill – the church with dark coloured roof except east end cupola roof red – and unpainted hamlet at its foot and our station, good unpainted house at 2 12/” might have slept here apparently very well –

Kivinebb

Pampala 13 versts

Rainaioki 12 1/2 versts

St. Petersburg 58 versts

A view of Kivenappa (Kivinebb, today’s Pervomayskoye) in the 1930s, with the “large picturesque church on hill”, sadly destroyed in the Winter War (image source):

2 snow ploughs – nice hilly wooded open airy country all round about – the village nicely placed on high ground – off again at 2 1/2 – on rising the hill, country very pretty here – fine extensive view – hamlets and farms scattered up and down – yellow stubble fields and green young rye and good green peas [ten ago?] – the unpainted (drab) hamlets and dark pine wooded hills finely contrasted – but the hills not high – now rising grounds all around us – all right and left a wide woody plain pretty well peopled – no overflowing population anywhere in this cold nord – great deal of birch all today – now at 2 50/” the wide plain right seems one sheet of dark pure forest and we pass thro’ a little unpainted scattered hamlet or 3 or 4 or a series of scattered farms and their numerous hamlet-like appurtenances – here and everywhere the wood fences as in Sweden and Norway – at 3 5/” cross good river and wood bridge and 14 men with as many one horse ploughs ploughing in one stubble field – cattle – 3 little corn stacks in a field – nice farming here – 7 narrow lines between stakes – on rails or how of something like peas holm – geese here – abundance of them at Viborg – in the Baltic near the 2 steamers, and on the ramparts and in the streets and everywhere – our stage hilly this time and road sandy but good – at 3 23/” unpainted scattered hamlet and pretty little lake near by it, and a bit of small boulder stone cobble wall fence the 1st I have seen in the North – (Sweden Norway or here) – at the station at 3 33/” – on high ground – lone

Raiaioki

Kivinebb 12 1/2 versts

Walkiasari 12 1/2 versts

St. Petersburg 45 4/6 versts

house unpainted body – red roof good enough looking house – might sleep apparently as well as at many of the other stations – the hamlet scattered about at a little distance – the appurtenances of the station numerous as usual and hamlet-like wide wooded plain right and left and surely it the sea we just see in the extreme distance before us (right) – off at 3 47/” very pretty at 3 52/” little steep descent onto wooden bridge over little stream that is perhaps the boundary

An 1830s view (by Pehr Adolf Kruskopf) of the bridge over the Rajajoki (Sestra) river which Anne and Ann have just crossed – imagine their carriage on it! In 1839 the river indeed made up part of the boundary between the Grand Duchy of Finland and the rest of the Russian Empire (the Finnish-Russian border is much further west now and Vyborg is now in Russia), so by crossing the bridge they left Finland behind them and entered Russia (image source). Observe the “steep descent” on the left!

steep boulder stone paved ascent – enough for our horses to do to get us up – and good largish horses – good all the way from Viborg – pretty and hilly and much birch – thin forest, and pasture and cows – yes! (now 4 3/4) it is the sea, a long sweep, in the distance (right) – the pavé roughish begun on this side the bridge at 3 52/” but we go on the sides (sandy but very fair) now and then very much – and after all the pavé is not so bad so far – I would rather risk our carriage here than from Hamburg to Lubeck, or even in the streets of Stockholm where if the pave is something better the deep channels are terrible – now at 4 5/” the afternoon is dullish – shall we have rain? now at 4 1/4 fine wooded country – range of wooded hill (left) closes in (at perhaps 7 or 8 miles English) our plain at the left – low birch wood beeches and young Scotch firs scattered here and to the right (in the distance) and to the right in the distance the fine sweep of sea with a dark line at the back of it forming the horizon look down in front in the distance upon dark plain rising to the horizon – and now 4 25/” a scattered hamlet unpainted as usual – the sea now sweeps 1/2 round us in the distance from right to en face – we look upon one sheet of forest belted right and in front by sea – now towns or villages distinguishable – the road now sandy (at 4 1/2) and goodish – the pavé nowhere prevented my writing – at 4 1/2 lose my pen – in taking off bonnet must have kicked it out – now at 4 1/2 very sandy and heavy –

[writes in pencil (since she’s just lost her pen!), and later inks over the pencilled writing] for a little way the birch generally green shewing merely a tinge of autumn here and there – hilly stage – now at 4 55/” a little town or village in sight before us (right) with handsome white, blue-cupolaed, church – now at 5 first buck wheat that I have observed part standing ripe, and part cut, tied up in little sheaves, and in stook – and our road now and for a little while back as broad as 3 roads (perhaps 60 yards wide) and we go on the grass or as well as we can thro’ the sand – and now (5 5/”) a few scattered farmsteads – our road this stage the worst we have had in Denmark Sweden or Norway, but still the road to Hazelunen much worse in point of sand, and the road from Hamburg to Lubec much worse in 1833 in point of pavé – the pavé begins again now at 5 10/” (we had it from 3 52/” to 4 1/2) but we keep on the side – on the sand – several little long narrow tacks with spruce fir branches laid on the thatch (as observed once before – steep pitch down to wood bridge and stream – then ascend to the town, and at the Station at 5 1/4 at Walkiasari – John stopt at the station house and we had sent Gross to the douane, and got the baskets and cloaks out before they came to say the carriage and all must go to the place – there at 5 25/” and Ann and I there 3/4 hour –

then came back sided our room and Ann made tea – sat over it till 8 10/” then prepared our bed – only one in the house – had Grotza at 8 3/4 when we had got all ready – and then till now (10 p.m.) inked over the latter 2/3 of the last page and so far of this – Jean was in despair at the thought of our staying all night – said if we did we must sleep upon hay for there were no beds – and in came a large bundle of nice soft hay which now lies in the corner of our room – we have spread out the one scantily filled bed (with flocks I suppose) on sofa and chairs, so as to be wide enough for us both – of the 2 pieces of not quite clean linen each about 1 1/2 yard square we have made an under sheet, and shall put our cloaks over us – we have the luxury of 4 pillows, and shall do very well – we had our own bread and butter and tea and sugar but they brought very fair bread (wheat) and good butter, and 4 boiled eggs and a little bowl of milk with the cream on it for our tea – the cream made our tea excellent and we sat over and enjoyed it, declaring how well off we were – we had got well thro’ the ordeal of the douane, and congratulated ourselves on being in Russia – our books I believe were all taken out of the carriage and looked at; but, as desired, I copied the list I have and the Stockholm date dated it Stockholm as really dated there, and signed it

‘Anne Lister

de Shibden hall’

and then enclosed it in an envelope and as desired sealed it with my own seal my arms, wrote on the back ‘List of the books belonging to Mrs. Lister’ and sent this by Gross to the Douane to be forwarded to St. Peterburg, I engaging to go with in six weeks to the Committee of censorship to claim the list – said I should go to Mrs. Wilson’s – we are thus allowed to take all our books and things and go in comfort – How much better than the pother we should have had if we had arrived at St. Petersburg by the steamer! –

our journey thro’ Finland has really been a very agreeable and a very economical one; and we have seen the country and the people – the latter always civil and ready to do their utmost to please, and the former well-farmed (made the most of) and interesting – the roads everywhere good till this last stage – and the sand of this nothing to that of Hazelunen and the pavés for poste after poste of the South of France often quite as much or more jolting and trying to the springs of a carriage than the 43 minutes out 88 minutes (from 3 47/” to 5 1/4) here – this is the 1st time we have failed to find good clean beds and sheets at the Station houses and only once or twice we have the people been without white (wheat) bread – the little steep pitches are too short to be dangerous – the horses rarely stumble; and a man must be a very bad driver and totally unaccustomed to this sort of roads if he cannot get on comfortably even with a heavy English carriage like ours about 8 versts an hour – I never observed the man or boy (Holcar) ask for anything more than what was due for the horses 6 kopeks each from country stations and double that from towns – Åbo is a good town – Helsingfors very beautiful, cheerful and comfortable (the Society’s house good hotel) and one might have advantages from the university professors (all the students away – vacance for a fortnight longer) – Viborg dull as all fortresses of such sort must be? but a good town and its fjord and situation beautiful – the cold

the cold weather is coming – I have had a little chilblain in my right little finger these 2 days or more and Jean has got a little lumbago since Saturday – fine day tho’ dullish coldish in the morning and dampish in the afternoon), – Fahrenheit 56 1/4º now at 10 ¾ p.m. our 2 rooms have been warmed by a stove; for they were quite comfortably warm on our arrival no pot ath /sic/ brekfast /sic/ and we have a tureen for one tonight Raining now at 10 3/4 p.m.

Anne’s marginal notes:

geese

1st cobblestone wall

Pavé

Buckwheat

wide road begins

pavé

the wood all young no large trees.

no pot

Anne and Ann’s route (in red) from Vyborg to Valkiasari, with stations she mentions by name marked in blue (source of the original map):

WYAS pages: SH:7/ML/TR/14/0008 SH:7/ML/TR/14/0009 SH:7/ML/TR/14/00010 SH:7/ML/TR/14/0011 SH:7/ML/TR/14/0012

#anne lister #ann walker #anne lister code breaker #gentleman jack #travelnotes1839 #finland1839 #russia1839 #russianempire1839 #annelister #annwalker

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blackscarabfilmz · 3 years

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You Never Know What Someone Is Going Through by Michael Gleason

Another story based on a prompt, this time it was:

Write about a character who can suddenly see through another person's eyes — literally.

It's a well-known adage that “You never know what someone is going through”, usually used to encourage people to be kind to everyone. It's not a bad cliché, but it's not completely accurate either, as I can attest to. I'm not always the nicest person, and I admit that freely and openly, but I've taken strides to become nicer, although not for a totally altruistic reason.

You see, I've been afflicted with a strange curse, after a stressful interaction with an old woman whose slow walking was making it so that I missed out on getting the closest parking spot to my office that I'd seen in weeks, in which I used some choice words that I slightly regret.

“Get out of the way, you old crone! If you can't make it across the street, you should be in a home!” I'd shouted from behind the wheel of my BMW as I tried to swerve around her.

She just glared at me and seemed to mumble a few words, but I didn't stick around long enough to really notice, nor did I care. Afterward, I found that I'd gained the ability to literally see through another person's eyes.

I first noticed it right after arriving at the office that day, after getting a spot in a lot two blocks away, and I noticed that my secretary, Janice, was late for work – again. This was the fourth time that week and probably the fifteenth time this month, and I was pretty annoyed with her.

“If she wants that raise she asked for, she'd better start showing up to work on time. What else could be more important?” I thought to myself as I unlocked the door to my office.

Almost immediately, I was hit with the strangest sense of whiplash, because when I walked through the door, I wasn't in my familiar office, I was in somebody's bedroom.

“What the hell?” I turned around, but saw only a hallway behind me, and not Janice's desk.

The room looked fairly normal, and as I looked down at my hand for my briefcase, I instead saw something disturbing. It wasn't my hand! My hand was usually large and hairy, this was small and dainty, with painted nails.

“Nail polish? But...” I inspected the hand closely and realized I recognized the bright red color.

I rushed across the room, nearly tripping and falling as I also realized I was wearing heels, towards a vanity and looked into the mirror. Gazing at my reflection, my fears were realized and I was staring back at Janice's face. Thankfully, she was fully dressed and seemed to be getting ready for work. My eyes dropped slowly towards my, or rather Janice's chest, and I hesitantly reached a hand towards her blouse.

But I was taken out of my shock as I heard a baby's scream and the bedroom door suddenly flew open, revealing a haggard-looking man with a disheveled beard carrying a screaming child, who couldn't have been more than two. That was right! Janice had been pregnant when we hired her, and she'd had the baby not too long afterward. She came back to work pretty quickly after her maternity leave so I never really thought about her home life after that, her performance in the office was all that matters to me.

Janice's husband definitely didn't look like he was getting ready for work, so that explained why she was bucking for that raise. I made enough money for my wife to be a stay-at-home mom by choice, but my kids are almost fully grown, a daughter in college and a son in high school, so my wife's day can't be nearly as stressful as Janice's husband's.

“He's crying again! What am I supposed to do to get him to calm down, again?” Janice's husband asked as he held the baby out to me.

“I... Uh,” I stuttered, I didn't know the first thing about calming down a baby, that was my wife's department, I hesitated to reach for it. Not to mention hearing Janice's voice coming out of my mouth was off-putting, to say the least.

Suddenly, a dog rushed into the room, one of those small yappy ones, and started barking. The noises were incessant, the baby's crying, Janice's husband's whining, and the dog barking, it was driving me crazy. I clutched my hair with both hands, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath, before shouting from the top of my lungs:

“PLEASE, EVERYONE JUST SHUT THE HELL UP!” I shouted, in my own voice, and noticed that everything went silent.

I opened my eyes to see my office in front of me, and murmurs started up from the other members of the office staff behind me. I quickly rushed into my office and shut the door behind me, slumping down in my chair as I tried to rationalize what had just happened to me. I felt so real, but it had to have been a hallucination, right?

I quickly sat down at my desk and tried to clear my head, but my mind kept playing back what I'd experienced. I started working on what I'd needed to get done that day, looking over expense reports, and before long, I heard a gentle knock on my door.

“Come in!” I shouted, looking up to see Janice sheepishly walking into my office. “Glad to see you've decided to grace us with your presence.”

I noticed that she was wearing the exact outfit that I'd seen in the hallucination, but that had to be a coincidence, right? She'd probably worn that exact outfit dozens of times, and that's why my subconscious chose it. I think that's how dreams work, anyway.

“I'm sorry, sir. I really tried to get here on time, but my husband was having trouble with the baby, he was being very fussy today, and things have been really tough juggling that, especially with me working,” Janice explained.

I remained stone-faced, but that was more because her explanation directly mirrored the experience I'd had. But she took my silence as a challenge, to her, I was silent because I was dissatisfied with her punctuality.

“I know that it isn't any of your concern, but if I got that raise I asked for, I could afford to hire a nanny and that would take some of the burdens of childcare off of my husband and me, and I would be able to focus all my attention on my work here.” Janice declared. “It's not greed, and I really do love my job, but I can't be everywhere at once, and it seems like the universe needs me to be.”

After what I'd seen, I believed her, but I couldn't buckle to it immediately. I had a reputation to uphold, besides, a change of heart that drastic might cause people to question things and I don't want anyone to know I'd been in Janice's head.

“I'll consider it,” I said, flatly. “Now, get to work.”

“Yes, sir.” Janice turned on her heel in a way that shocked me, given I'd nearly killed myself simply walking in them, and walked out of my office, closing the door on her way out.

The rest of the morning passed without incident, and I thought that the entire experience was a one-time thing. By lunch, I'd figured out that it was probably tied into that old woman in the crosswalk, but assumed that I'd learned my lesson with Janice, and everything would be normal from then on out. And then later that afternoon, my phone rang, a call from my wife, Diane.

“Hey, honey! What's up?” I asked. “Is something wrong?”

“You bet there's something wrong, Clark! I got Nathan's report card in the mail today!” Diane replied.

“Oh, Christ...” I muttered. “How bad is it this time?”

“Nothing above a C- and most of it is D's and there's an F this time.”

I took a deep sigh and put my face in my hands.

“We are going to have a very long discussion about this when I get home. Is he home yet?”

“Not yet, he's at after-school tutoring, for all the good it's done...” Diane said.

“Make sure he knows he's grounded and won't be playing video games or watching T.V. until we figure out what to do about this,” I grumbled.

“Got it. See you when you get home,” Diane said. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” I said, ending the call. “What the hell am I going to do with that boy? Can't he just apply himself?”

As I turned my attention back to my desk, I again found myself in another location entirely. Although this time I recognized the room, I'd been in there enough times for parent-teacher conferences to know that this was Nathan's math classroom. I looked down at the desk and could vaguely make out a reflection, one that I recognized as my son's face.

“Not again...” I whined, in Nathan's voice.

“What was that, Mr. Wilson?” I looked up to see Nathan's math teacher, Mrs. Snodgrass, standing over me.

She was an austere woman, a very old and traditional teacher, reminded me of some of the teachers I'd hated when I was in school, but as a parent, I liked her style. It kept the kids in line. Of course, I liked that personality a lot less more when it was directed at me.

“Nothing, ma'am.” I looked back down at the desk and spotted a math worksheet sitting on it, half-filled in.

“Have you finished the assignment yet?” she asked.

“Not yet, I'm working on it.” I picked up a pencil and started to work on the problem.

Math was my best subject back in school, but the way they were teaching it now was... strange. I didn't understand what it wanted me to do! I did my best and finished the sheet, handing it to Mrs. Snodgrass. I was alone in the room, save for her, which made sense given that tutoring is usually only for those who are truly struggling.

I stood near the desk, waiting as she looked over the sheet. My face fell when she signed and rubbed her forehead with her wrinkled hand.

“Mr. Wilson, did you pay attention at all to today's lesson?” she asked.

“Well, I...” I started to reply. I didn't actually know if Nathan paid attention.

“I don't know what else I can do. I think we're kidding ourselves with the tutoring, it's clearly not doing anything, and I've exhausted all my methods. I'll discuss that with your parents at the next conference, but as for now, you may go.” Mrs. Snodgrass said.

She was giving up on my son like that? If he's not understanding the material, the teacher should be making damn sure she tries everything! Usually, I had the confidence and bravado to stand up to teachers like this, but in Nathan's body, my confidence evaporated, so all I managed to squeak out was a thank you, and I quickly collected his bag and headed home.

Already this experience had lasted longer than my time in Janice's body, and I was eagerly awaiting it to end. I figured it might end when I got to the front door, but it didn't. I walked into the house and found Diane standing, arms crossed, in the foyer. I knew why she was angry, and I averted my gaze.

“Your report card came in the mail today,” Diane said. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I know it looks bad, but...” I started. I wanted to tell her what I'd witnessed from the teacher, but she wouldn't let me speak.

“Wait for your father, he's on his way home now.” she pointed towards the living room.

I took Nathan's backpack off and sat on the couch, waiting for a few minutes until I heard my car pull into the driveway. I sat up, partly wondering if perhaps Nathan was in my body since I was occupying his, but one look at my face as I walked through the door, and I knew that it wasn't the case.

It's strange to see yourself from the outside, I don't think of myself as threatening, but clearly, Nathan did. His heart began racing as I took off my suit jacket and hung it up by the door. The other me, the me in my own body... “Clark”, he walked into the living room after greeting Diane and taking the report card. “Clark” sat down in my favorite chair, and Diane took her customary flank position next to me.

“What the hell are we going to do with you? Do you enjoy failing?” “Clark" asked. “I mean, look at this! Do you think you can get into a good college with grades like these?”

I couldn't believe it, would I really say something like that? Have I lost sight of empathizing with my son? Diane just stood by “Clark” and nodded along with what he said.

“The lessons are really hard, especially math!” I defended Nathan.

“If the lessons are hard, you've got to buckle down and study your butt off! I struggled in school too, you know what I did? I worked hard to not struggle! This is important, it's your future! Why can't you be more like your sister? She never had less than a B!” “Clark” shouted.

I was utterly speechless, not just because “Clark” wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise, but also because I could feel just how powerless Nathan felt, with his father, the person who's supposed to be on his side, chewing him out mercilessly. If this really was how I'd been treating him about his grades... that had to change.

“And don't even think you'll be seeing the outside of your room or a classroom until your grades improve. Now go to your room and hit the books!” “Clark” finished.

I felt tears welling up in my eyes and I stood up and ran towards Nathan's room. As I slammed the door, I felt myself crash back down to Earth as I rocked slightly in my chair. Diane put her hand on my shoulder.

“Are you okay, Clark?” she asked, concern in her voice.

“Yeah, I'm fine...” I replied.

“Are you sure you weren't too hard on him? I know his grades are bad, but...” Diane started.

“Yeah, I was a little too hard on him...” I sighed. “I'll handle it.”

I stood up and walked up the stairs, waiting outside Nathan's room. After a few minutes, I knocked on the door.

“Go away!” Nathan shouted.

“Nathan, I've... had some time to think, and I'm sorry. I just... I want you to succeed, but if you're struggling, I need to take the time to help you figure out the problem, not yell at you until it goes away.” I heard the door unlock.

I reached forward and opened the door, Nathan was sitting on his bed, wiping tears from his face.

“I guess I'm just stupid...” Nathan muttered.

“You're not stupid, we just have to figure out how you learn the best. If this tutoring isn't working, maybe we try something different. Say, I was pretty good at math when I was your age, maybe after dinner, I can look over your homework with you. You'll just have to teach me whatever this “new” math they're teaching you is,” I chuckled, and Nathan laughed as well.

“I'd like that, Dad.” Nathan said.

It was a strange experience to be sure, but it taught me something, that I had to be more empathetic and kinder to those around me, particularly when it comes to things outside of their control.

In the weeks following, I've made a lot of strides into being more understanding. With Janice, my other employees, my kids, and even my wife. Seeing things through her eyes is an experience that I've gone to a lot of trouble to avoid. But the curse hasn't gone away, either, because sometimes I'll find myself running out of patience with a cashier or a barista and suddenly I'm seeing things from their perspective. I guess the moral of this story is, “Be kind. Because you never know what someone is going through”.

And trust me, you really don't want to find out.

#story #fiction #writing #short story #my writing

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clownwritesfanfic · 4 years

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Look it’s my first original post wow. This was a topic discussed in a Discord server I’m in, Hello there if you are from that server. Also thanks if you helped when i got stuck. I decided to share it here because I had a bit of fun with it.

Slashers/Horror Characters and their hobbies (when they’re not on a killing spree)

Michael (1978) would probably read. I like to think they would at least give him some books to read in the asylum. If his victim has a collection of books and he’s got time he’ll browse through the selections and take some that intrigue him. His favourite genre would probably be mystery or psychological horror. Think SAW if it was a book. 2007 remake Michael, as we already know likes to make masks. I don’t really think that would stop after escaping.

Bubba would enjoy cooking and baking I think. He’d get all prettied up in his pretty woman mask and a nice non-bloodied apron and get to work. He doesn’t get to cook that often because Drayton thinks he’ll burn the house down because of one (1) incident where Bubba accidentally started an oil fire and in a panic threw water on it. (Do not do that btw it makes the fire so much worse) But when he does cook or bake it is delicious. He enjoys trying and making new recipes too.

Nubbins does taxidermy. But he makes really weird scenes with the dead animals. He once took the ballerina off an old wind up music box he found and placed a rat in a tutu doing a pirouette on it instead and gave it to Bubba. (Bubba adores that thing and it helps him sleep at night).He likes to take random parts from animals and make his own new creatures and try to convince Bubba they’re real. (Poor guy actually fell for one once and was scared of “flying rabid raccoons” for almost a whole month) He’s also partial to photography. Although he doesn’t have much of a muse and some of the pictures are blurry.

Chop Top likes to listen to music and has tried his hand at making it (much to Drayton’s dismay but he doesn’t have any rights so that doesn’t matter). He likes Rock music but his guilty pleasure would be smooth jazz.

Thomas would enjoy sewing. He once tried making a dress for Luda Mae but it wasn’t sized properly. The sleeves were much too small and the dress itself was too big it would be a hassle to do any house work in it. Luda Mae still praised Thomas for it and she still has it even if she can’t wear it and shes very proud of him for it.

Billy Loomis just watches different movies and makes up theories around them and likes to discuss plot holes. He’s like one of those Disney fans that makes up long and elaborate theories. (no disrespect to those people i actually enjoy them) Except it’s mostly on horror or thriller movies instead.

Stu has a little artistic side in him. He can’t do photo realistic drawings but he doodles quick little things of people, objects, animals, etc. When he;s bored in class he’ll look around and doodle his classmates on his notes. Some of his teachers have had to tell him to stop drawing on assignments and tests while others look forward to seeing his little doodles. He’s dabbled in sculpture quite a bit too. He’s not the best but he likes doing it. He once made Billy a little cup that Billy still has in his room holding some pencils and pens. He prefers drawing over painting and he’s got his own unique style.

Brahms will sit and play with his toys or colour in a colouring book. He actually prefers colouring over playing with toys. It’s a quick way to get him to calm down by having him sit at the dinner table and colour in a page with crayons (he’s not allowed pencil crayons, for obvious reasons) and a cup of tea. He also likes putting things back together (which might be the reason why he breaks his toys so often). He’s good at figuring out which piece fits with another much like a puzzle (however he doesn’t like real puzzles much). That’s why he was able to put his doll back together.

Jason also likes to read. Before he drowned he was at a higher reading level than the other kids. His mom made sure to teach him from an early age. She wanted a bright and respectable son. Sometimes he’ll go raid the cabins after slaughtering all the new campers to see if any have brought books. He enjoys poems and a bit of romance. If it has a scene his mother would frown upon her boy reading, he’ll skip it. He would also enjoy bird watching and observing all the other animals that roam the area.

Freddy...to be quite honest I have no idea what Freddy would do other than enter peoples dreams. He might like metalwork considering he made that little glove of his. If he’s not murdering people he’s probably just fucking with their dreams to entertain himself.

Chucky i’m also not sure of. I would like to say he’d play videos games but at the same time it doesn’t seem very fitting. (I’ve never watched a Chucky movie so I don’t really know his personality well enough)

Tiffany however would enjoy cooking and baking, like Bubba. I think she would prefer baking a little bit more than cooking.

Other than disturbing the sorority with his calls and *ahem* doing what he does best, Billy Lenz likes making collages. Either using material from old magazines or pictures of the girls. He likes getting a little surreal and cryptic with them. He likes putting animal heads on people. If you were to look at some of them you would have no clue as to what is happening or what it means. Billy knows. But he won’t tell you.

Cujo (as one of my fellow server mates said since i’ve never seen Cujo) likes to play fetch. What dog doesn’t? He’s also very partial to tug of war too. But don’t think you’ll win. That dog can dent a car door with his head.

1990 Pennywise would sit on his ass and read the newspaper or watch a shitty little broken TV on his shitty, dirty, springs-showing, torn up, recliner and smoke. He mostly smokes cigarettes but he doesn’t mind a good cigar if he can get his hands on one. Even though he sleeps for 27 years, he’ll still take naps on said recliner. Changing his form and chasing kids is hard work for an old being like him.

2017 Pennywise however is younger than 1990 Penny and so he has more energy. Pennywise genuinely likes clowns and what they do, that’s why the clown form is his favourite. (1990 Pennywise finds it easier to attract kids and make them feel safe if he looks like a clown). So he tries to make balloon animals. He’s not very good at it and they keep popping but he’s trying his best. And yes, he does get pretty angry if he keeps messing up.

Vincent as we already know, likes to make wax sculptures. He’s tried clay before but he doesn’t like how it feels dried on his hands. He’s much more comfortable with wax. Plus, if he ever runs out of wax he can re-melt a sculpture that is old or isn’t his favourite and start anew. Once clay dries it can’t go back to clay.

Bo likes to work on cars. The older the better. He prefers trucks but cars are just as good. He can tell whats wrong with it just by turning the engine on. He’s one of the best (and only) mechanics in town.

Lester likes to collect bones, mostly skulls, from roadkill he’s found. He waits for his little pile to rot then he’ll go in looking for skulls and bones.He’s got a whole wall of shelves filled with different animal skulls and skeletons. He also tried taxidermy once. Emphasis on tried. They came out looking terrible and messed up. He still likes doing it from time to time though.

Sweeney Todd actually enjoys being a barber. He finds it relaxing cutting peoples hair and making people look and feel good. He finds shaving men’s faces really satisfying and finds it quite humorous to see a gentleman with a beard come in and leave with a smooth baby face. They tend not to look so intimidating anymore.

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the-tragic-hero-and-you · 4 years

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Let’s make a secret

A/N: I’m just being an idiot. Let me have this. Anyways, a little Actor!Mark x Y/N for those of you who like rats. Angst and drunken seduction in this chapter. Also, Ethan get's fired for being an idiot butler.

Story: You and Mark use to be fast friend, but these days you barely talk to him anymore. Now with the Divorce approaching, Damien is worried for his dear friend and sends you to Markiplier Manor to keep him company. Mark doesn’t want to talk about life, preferring to just drink his troubled away with you. . .

The elections went well for Damien. Not only did he get the vast majority of the minority votes, but from others as well. It seemed to be quite a land slide of a victory for him, and you were proud to see how far he had come since the two of you met back in University. It was just him and another candidate now. If things go well, it looks like Damien will have another term to keep his Mayor title.

There was still a few months though, so you had to be at the top of your game to make sure he claims this victory as well. It’s what friends do. Sure, there was the controversy still going around since the last election, about how the two of you were using Damien to climb up in the ranks by giving him ‘special offers’. So many speculations arose, drugs, illegal trafficking, seduction. But no matter how ‘damnable’ the evidence was, It all fell flat and proven false in the end. Now people are just saying you both are secretly a couple. Granted, Damien is a handsome bastard. You can’t help but stare at him sometimes and smile. But he wasn’t your type. You and Damien preferred that the two of you stayed as fast friends til the end of your days, no matter what trials come before you. Nothing would shattered the bond you have.

It was another Sunday.

Or was it a Tuesday?

Doesn’t matter.

You were in your office, shuffling through some paper work when there was a light tapping on your door. listing your head up you noticed Damien peeking his head in. wit ha smile, you motioned him to come in, setting the papers to the side and giving him your full attention. You immediately knew something was wrong due to the look on his face, his gaze to the ground and his footing slower than usual. Damien was never forward when there was an incident that he had to address you about.

“Sorry, old friend. I certainly hope I’m not interrupting anything too critical towards your work.”

You shook your head, reassuring him that whatever was on his mind was far more important. This seemed to relive him by a small portion as he forced a smile and approached your desk.

“Good, good. That’s good to hear. Uhh, look, the reason I’m asking, and the reason why I’m here is because. . . Well . . .I need to ask a favor of you. It’s important.”

He had your attention before. But with that tone and those words? All your plans for the rest of the day can wait. you leaned forward form your seat a little, resting your hands on your desk as you waited for Damien to continue. He didn’t say anything at first, his gaze off to the side as the man went through his thoughts, possibly rethinking what he was going to request of you. Eventually he shook his head, returning his attention towards you and finally spoke.

“It’s Mark.” He muttered, now nervously fiddling with his cane in hand. “He’s going through a rather rough patch right now. I’d love to go see him, but. . .I’m not sure if I’m the right person he wants to see right now. I figured that maybe a familiar face and trouble maker might lighten up his spirits right now.”

Ah yes, Mark. How on earth could you forget such an egotistical man? You did appreciate the actor coming to Damien’s defense about the whole ‘Sex scandal’ incident. Possibly had enough of people spreading rumors about his childhood friend. Nice to know there was still some decency in him ever since he became a big shot actor.

Honestly, you were on the fence about this. But is was Damien asking for this huge favor. The man was far too kind. No matter how big the asshole was, Damien treated him like a brother.

Well, a brother-in-law at one point. . .

You started organizing your things and put them away, indicating to the Mayor that you would do this for him.

“Thank you, my friend’“ He breathed with relief, his smile sincere as he rests his hand on your shoulder. “I’m sure he needs the distraction right about now. Who knows, maybe reminiscing about your shenanigans will lighten his spirits. Just don’t get him into trouble. The ban against you two at the Cafe la Ritz is still holding strong.”

You still don’t regret that night either.

After you left work and freshened up a little at home, you make your way to Markiplier Manor. You tried to recall the location and roads to take in your head as you turned your headlights on, realizing how dark it was becoming. you’ve only ever been to that house once. Even then, you didn’t exactly go inside, rather you just dropped Damien and Mark off at the place. They offered for you to come inside, but something didn’t feel right as you looked at the place. Anything that seemed like it was pulling you in was something you avoided greatly. But at this point, you didn’t have a choice. It’s not like you were going to force Mark to hang out with you outside for the rest of the evening.

You did miss him though. Very much. You might not have known him since childhood like Damien, but the two of you were like Partners in crime, always getting into trouble back in your University days. You were surprised that neither of you got expelled after the gun powder indecent at the museum. Maybe because it didn’t ignite. So many close calls and late nights just causing trouble, sometimes sober, sometimes intoxicated. Honestly, Mark really helped you forget about the crushing stress of life. After graduation though, things seemed to drift between the two of you. There would be the occasional call here and there, but eventually things went quiet. Life just got too busy. You were in law, he was in Hollywood and in between was Damien trying to hold something together.

Eventually even Damien stopped talking about Mark and just focused on running the city.

Finally you pulled up to your destination.

You sat in your car for a moment, looking up at the extravagant house. That uneasy feeling never left, that pulling sensation sent shivers down your spine. It felt like looking at a casket for yourself. Taking in a deep breath, you get out of your car and make your way towards the entrance, each step feeling as though it wasn’t your own as you draw closer to the house. The door was intimidating somehow, it wasn’t that big in your opinion, but you were too uneasy to knock. non the less, you brought your hand up, bringing it into a light fist and gave a knock. Almost instantly the door opened as you were greeted by a rather pencil neck looking butler with glasses. He looked like the kind of guy who would drown you in a tub or poke a hold in a cardboard box while you’re in it.

“Bonjour!” He greeted with a smile, “Do you have an appointment?”

you probably should have asked Damien if he called ahead and let them know you were coming. You shook your head a little, just in case arrangements were not made and you didn’t wanna be caught lying.

“AWW! I’m so sorry. . . Whatever it is you are. But the master is not to be disturbed with non appointed guests.” He said in an obnoxious and overly fake accent.

Just then you heard a familiar tone, a bitter one as well coming from the room behind the butler, the voice getting louder as the person walked up to the door.

“Look, I don’t want to deal with any donations, salesmen or journalists right now! I just want to be left the fuck alon-!”

He caught glimpse of you just as you did of him. The raging voice that rang out seconds before halt the moment he recognized you, stepping closer before opening the door a little wider to get a better look at you. The man standing before you looked nothing like he did when you two last encountered. His eyes and cheeks were silken in a little, his hair unkempt, facial hair developing into nearly a beard and seemed to have lost some weight. As for his choice of clothes? Just as poor. Nothing more but a wrinkled red robe that’s barely tied on. His eyes scanned you just as much as you were him before he finally spoke.

“My God. You haven’t aged a day, you asshole.” Mark muttered, finally giving you a weak smile before gesturing you inside. “Come in, come in!” He enthusiastically offered. At least he was happy to see you, which was a relief. Walking in, the butler took your coat as you slipped out of it, looking around the rather nice layout before you.

The balcony over head strangely caught your eye. . .

“So! Wow. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Mark spoke, snapping you out of your hazy thoughts and instantly towards him. You gave a nod and a warm smile as you took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and a shake to greet him more properly. “Ah, God, that was. . . 4 years ago, wasn’t it? Man, how time flies when you’re going through so much to what life chucks at ya, huh?” He spoke while guiding you towards one of the visitation rooms, “Sorry I’ve been so out of touch. You know how it is. You going the opposite direction of how we use to be in our youth, and me just making matters worse. Personally, I think I make it more interesting.” You couldn’t help but shake your head to this comment. Mark has always been the one to justify his actions, being rather narcissistic as ever. You didn't look down on him about, not this time. The way he was walking and forcing a smile to stay on his face, it was clear he was trying to hide away whatever emotional pain was eating away at him.

You only knew what you've read in the papers about it all. How the upcoming divorce was effecting his acting and all that. You still felt terrible about missing the wedding, though now it seemed kinda pointless to have such regret now that it didn't work out.

He leads you into one of the front rooms in this place (The man has about 5 possibly, just like his ovens), offering you have a seat on the couch the moment he sits as well. “Sorry about being such a mess. A call ahead of time would have been nice, BUT since it's you, I can forgive it this one time. I mean, how often do you even come by anymore? Just give a little heads up next time, alright?” You gave a nod in agreement and apology, not really needing to voice how you didn't mean to be an inconvenience with an unannounced visit. That was something you liked about him, he seemed to know what you were meaning to tell him with just simple little gestures, both him and Damien in fact. It's as if just looking into your eyes tells them everything that's on your mind, which was very helpful since you didn't like to speak up very often, only when greatly needed.

“Well, since you're here, we can catch up more properly and forget about life for a change. Would you like a drink? Ha! Stupid question. Of course you would! BUTLER!”

“BoNJoUR!” The rather obnoxious butler said, suddenly popping up from behind the sofa the two of you were sitting in.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up and get us a bottle of wine. Be snappy about it!”

“Bonjoooooooooour~!” He said as he slides his way out of the room.

You and Mark sit there for a moment, watching the heapass of a mean leave before tuning your attention back to one another.

“Anyways. . . It's so good to see you again, face to face.” Mark expressed in a sincere tone, taking your hand into his own and gave it a little pat. “Things have been pretty insane lately, so it's nice to have an old, non back stabbing friend in my midst.” That last part in his statement brought worry to grow in your chest, recalling how Damien assumed that Mark didn't want to see right now. Maybe there's been a bitter feud that occurred that you were not aware of.

Best to not let Mark known that this was Damien's idea.

You reassured Mark by giving his hand a gentle squeeze and a smile, scooting yourself a little closer to show you're comfort for being around him, despite the complete train wreck he was. Honestly, you've seen him look worse, like that time when the both of you got into a fight with a hand full of jocks. Those bruises stayed around for what felt like forever.

“BONjour!” The Butler finally arrived, shuffling his feet along the carpet s he approached the two of you, handing mark the bottle of wine as requested. The man looked at the bottle before looking back up to the butler with a look of grimace.

'. . . And GLASSES! Are we suppose to drink this with our god damn hands or what!?”

“OOF! Bonjour!” He spoke before dashing off in a rather odd manner.

You were rather taken back a bit by the sudden outburst from Mark. Normally he was level headed and was sly with his insults, doing such critical stabbing with his words with a smirk on his face. Not once have you witnessed him being so furious before. It was rather concerning, almost terrifying.

Mark noticed how uneasy you had become, seeming a little frantic as he placed the bottle of wine on the table and held your hand a little tighter. “Sorry! Sorry. It's difficult to deal with incompetent people these days. It's been nearly unbearable lately, you know.” You took note of this, how he became worried about scaring you away.

Mark was truly going through so much, wasn't he?

You tried to play it off like it was no big deal, giving a shrug and nod of understanding just as the butler returned with the glasses, setting them down on the table next to the wine bottle. With one last irritating 'Bonjour', the butler took his leave, allowing you and Mark to finally be alone.

The man reached over and popped open the bottle, pouring you a drink and handing the crystal glass to you. Graciously to took it from him, taking in the scent of the rich red drink before noticing how much more he was pouring into his own. Bringing your free hand forward, you tried to take tilt the bottle away from his glass. Mark pulled away from your hand and shook his head, not looking at you as he spoke. “Look. . . I know you're worried about me about the whole ordeal, and I appreciate you being here for me. But please, I don't want to talk or even think about it right now.” Saying this, Mark looked to you with pleading eyes, having another sober moment during this crisis was becoming far too much for him. As much as you didn't approve of heavy drinking with a broken heart, you couldn't help but feel a voice nipping a the back of your mind.

'He needs this. You're here after all. It's fine. . . I͍t᷾'s f̧ȋn̈e᷃.'

He's right. You both need to unwind anyways. You relaxed your posture as you raised your glass to him, Mark responding with a weary smile and tinked his glass against your before the both of you took a drink.

One glass of wine before two, three, four? Did the last one even count as a glass of wine since you never finished it and had more poured in? It should count as the same glass, right? The counting didn't matter as the night started to become a blur, a second bottle of wine being brought in and finished as well. Or was it a third bottle? You were not sure anymore, nor did you even care.

'Nothing wrong with letting go with an old friend. . .'

The night continued as the two of you became more rambunctious. Pointless jokes made and laughed at, tossing random items in the fire just to see how it would burn, flipping the table over, watching Mark fire the butler, you flipping him off after he drinks from your glass. Mark throwing an empty bottle of wine across the room, him with his arms wrapped around your neck as he sobs against your shoulder, you trying to stay up on the sofa only to collapse on the floor, another bottle of wine was ordered, both of you forgot that the butler was fired. Even on the floor the room continued to spin, vaguely seeing the actor crawling towards you and resting his head on your chest.

Everything felt warm, possibly from the fireplace, possibly from the body heat from the man who's weight pinned you to the floor, maybe it was the taste of wine that was still on your lips you tasted, maybe the taste was from his kiss, the firm hands that began to trail down your waist didn't hurt at all.

'See? It's not that bad. . . Not. That. B̠a̞d̅.̖ .ͅ "̂

(To be continued)

#WKM #Actor!Mark #Actor!Mark x Y/N

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sasa-writes-fandom-things · 4 years

Text

One night in Bangkok

Fandom: MCU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC Kairi Higarashi

Setting: After the events of Endgame

Song prompt I was given: One night in Bangkok by Murray Head

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: fluff, open end, slightly OOC Bucky, mild angst, violence

Summary: The former Winter Soldier decided that it was time for him to live a little so he travelled to Bangkok and discovered two things: ecstasy and despair.

Author’s note: This monster was written for Mimi's One Hit Wonder Challenge. It is my longest fic since 10 years and it took me some time to finish it but overall I am proud of it! <3 @captain-rogers-beard Also I am posting this on my writing sideblog, my main is @saratour

~*~

It was another humid night at Rattanakosin, the old quarter of Bangkok. As there was an old quarter in almost every town, Bangkok's wasn't much different. Despite a few impressive temples and an actual palace, you could find many shopping opportunities and the main street was busy every night with its bars, restaurants and clubs.

A certain ex-assassin walked idly over the buzzing main street. After they won against Thanos with all the sacrifices that came with it, life got back to normal. Steve gave his shield and the duty of being Captain America to Sam. As Bucky was walking through the crowded street, he thought to himself, that it was probably for the best. Sam becoming the next Cap and not him. Steve knew as much as Bucky, that the latter wasn't ready to take on the shield. Heck, it was roughly only a year after the talented scientists in Wakanda freed him from this horrid brainwash.

He needed to live a bit - a thing, that both Sam and Steve told him with big smirks on their faces. So he took their advice to heart and travelled the world. His current stop was the capital of Thailand. It was a nice warm night and the dark haired man was looking for a place to eat. He loved all the different smells and intriguing offers he saw. All the restaurants and bars on the main street however were cramped, a fact that Bucky didn't find appealing. So he wandered a bit off street and spotted a small restaurant. It looked almost empty and he had to make sure that it was even open for business. He wasn't good with big crowds after all. His social skills were rusty to say the least.

His feeling didn't let him down. The restaurant was small, but clean and only a handful of tables were occupied. He took a seat at an empty one and waited. A young woman with violet hair shouted something in Thai. After a moment, she came to his table. The first thing Bucky noticed about her, were her piercing green eyes. They were almost cat-like and sparkled with honest kindness. Her hair was violet and rather short, experts would've call this a bob. She gave him a gentle smile and greeted him again in Thai. The super soldier must have had a dumbfounded look on his face because after him not responding, she repeated her greeting, this time in English.

“Here is the menu. Do you know what you want to drink or do you need a minute?” She handed him the afore mentioned menu and waited, a small block and pencil at the ready. Bucky tried a smile himself. “Water would be nice.” She nodded but didn't write it on her block and just turned around. The dark haired man watched her get behind the counter and pouring a glass of water. He was so captured by her skilled hands that he forgot to read the menu and choose a dish for dinner. As she returned to his table with the glass of water, he hadn't chosen at all. “Take your time, I will be back in a couple of minutes.” She assured him with another smile and went to tend to another table.

“Oi Violet, move your ass over here!” A harsh and loud voice interrupted the peaceful atmosphere of the restaurant. Bucky tried not to look up from his dinner but after hearing her voice he couldn't help himself. “I told you countless times, that my name is not Violet!” The young woman shot back angrily with both hands on her hips. “And I would appreciate it, if you could lower your voice. You're disturbing the other guests.” The rude man grunted as a response and stood up. He was quite tall and towered over her small frame. “And what if I don't, sweetheart? What will you do, huh?” He put a finger under her chin and lifted it, so that she had to look him in the eyes. “I will kick you out!” The waitress informed him matter of factly. This response earned her a loud laugh. “I don't think so, sweetie. But I am sure we can come to another agreement...” He eyed her up and licked his lips with a wolfish grin. Bucky watched the scene in front of him. His metal arm, covered by his jacket and a glove almost broke the chopsticks. If this bastard would make another move, he would interfere! Maybe this wasn't the 40s anymore but in no era should a woman be treated like that. But just as he was about to get up, the rude man was hunching next to the woman. He cursed profoundly while holding his manly parts. This waitress knew her moves, Bucky was quite impressed. The remaining conversation was quite and ended with the rude man leaving the establishment. After that she came to his table with an apologetic look on her face. “I am so sorry, that you had to witness this. In satisfaction of the disturbance dessert is on the house.”

After this incident Bucky found himself coming to the restaurant almost every night. It wasn't so much for the food, which was delicious, it was more for the woman who peeked his interest with simply not being a damsel in distress. At his fifth visit, his waitress joked that he was becoming a regular. He tried every dish on the menu and when he wasn't sure, he enjoyed to get a recommendation from her. On a particular quite night she even sat down at his table and had dessert with him. Bucky grew comfortable around her, even that much, that he took off his glove. She wasn't startled, she just gave him a curious look but knew better than to bring it up. He appreciated that. After a whole week, she eventually told him her name.

“That's not a Thai name... Kairi is what, Japanese?” She smiled and continued to dry the glasses from the open dishwasher. Bucky was standing at the counter, enjoying a cold beer.

“Something like that. I am half Japanese. All I know from Google is, that it is associated with the ocean.” “I think it suits you... better than Violet.”

“Definitely better than Violet! Do you plan on staying in Bangkok longer? I remember that you said you would only be here for a bit more than a week.”

“That was my initial plan, yes... However I discovered something interesting which makes me want to stay a bit more.”

What was happening to him? This wasn't his usual demeanour. His people skills were rusty and all that he knew was war and battles and death and fights! Travelling to all this exotic and amazing places, meeting all kinds of people made him less than an hermit, granted but still he was surprised that he knew how to flirt after all.

“Well, this interest must be quite fascinating to make you extend your visit.” Kairi leant on the counter which accentuated her well-formed breasts. Bucky wasn't able to look away, he was just only a man. He gulped audibly and licked over his dry lips. Was she flirting back at him? Could it be, that she took the same liking to him as he took to her? There was only one way to find out! “Would you like to go out with me?” He blurted out suddenly. Surprising her and him both. A few uncomfortable seconds ticked by and then the silence was broken by her soft giggle. “I didn't expect you to be so bold.” The super soldier was about to apologize and tell her that she should forget about it, but she interrupted him. “Tomorrow's my day off. Pick me up at noon.” She gave him a wink, grabbed her block and pencil and greeted the new guests, who had just arrived. Bucky was left with mixed feelings. Not in the world would he have thought, that she would agree to go on a date with him. A warm and pleasant feeling started to settle in his chest and made the world look just a bit brighter.

Tomorrow noon came way too fast for Bucky's liking and he was actually nervous. He hadn't had a date since well a whole lifetime. But something about Kairi made it easy to relax and be himself. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He got a text from Steve.

Don't sweat it, Buck. She will see the same humble guy as I see.

Bucky smiled at his phone. He wasn't sure that this guy was still in him. But maybe it was time to find out. He typed a quick response and put his phone back just in time for Kairi to arrive.

One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble

The date went wonderfully well much to Bucky's surprise and delight. He learned a few new things about this amazing woman. She had six older half-brothers and she came from a patchwork family. Her favourite colour was green and she hated plumbs. In return he opened up to her a bit more. He tried to focus on the good things from the past. Like the Stark fair he went to with Steve just before deployment. Or the countless times he had to save Steve from some jerks. After knowing his name and seeing his metal hand Kairi clearly put one and one together. That also meant that she knew he was the Winter Soldier. An ex-assassin. A cold blood murderer. The internet was full of reports of him killing people. While chatting about this and that his thoughts got gloomy. Kairi was a smart and wonderful woman, Bucky could hardly believe that she would want to enjoy his company after knowing about his dark past. He figured that she only stayed because he was now a member of the Avengers who saved the world. This thought soured the wonderful date he had with her.

Not much between despair and ecstasy

“You are making that face again, Bucky.” They were walking along a beautiful small canal, the moon rising to its zenith illuminating the landscape and the couple. Bucky was still in thoughts and didn't hear her. When she took his metal hand in hers, she caught his attention. “What is on your mind?” Her eyes sparked like precious emeralds and her even features were beautifully highlighted by the moonlight. Her lips adorned a gentle and warm smile. He couldn't help but bring up his flesh hand and cupping her face. His eyes flickered between her eyes and lips. Unsure if he should proceed or not. “You gonna kiss me, soldier or not?” Her hands travelled to his neck and pulled him closer. Their faces where only inches apart, soft breaths were exchanged and just when the tension wasn't bearable any longer, their lips met in a chaste kiss. Soon they had to break apart, both panting a little and smiling softly. “I would say, still got it, soldier.” Kairi smirked and caressed his stubbled cheek with one hand. Bucky was still amazed by this sweet kiss that he couldn't form a coherent sentence. Instead he kept looking at those mesmerizing green eyes. A warm breeze rustled her hair and it felt oddly like a scene out of a romance movie. Bucky couldn't help but smile at her in utter bliss. He would have never imagined ending up in a reassuring embrace and looking into a warm and loveable face. After they shared this tender moment under the dazzling moonlight they continued their stroll. The day or rather night ended too fast and in true gentleman fashion Bucky walked his date to her apartment.

Kairi turned around, hand on the door knob, door half opened. “Do you wanna come in?” Her smile was honest and it reached her eyes. The dark haired man shifted uncomfortable on his feet. “I think we should let it end here. I am not good with... You know I wasn't with someone since...” He searched for the right words and grew even more uncomfortable. But the violet haired woman understood and ended his suffering. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, stepped closer and kissed him again. It was just a quick peck on the lips. “I understand. No worries.” Kairi opened the door to her apartment fully and headed inside. “I'll see you tomorrow in the restaurant?” She wanted to know, a small flash of insecurity crossed her face. Bucky returned her smile. “You will. Good night, Kairi.” He bid her farewell and after her door closed fully he turned around. His heart was overflowing with a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time. As the ex-assassin was walking back to his current residence, a realization hit him with the force of a truck. He was about to fall for this woman! The thought made his heart stutter and he felt like his legs would give in any minute. Was he allowed to feel so light and good? Was he allowed to love and more importantly was he worth to be loved in return?

One night in Bangkok and the tough guys tumble

They went out a few more times after the first successful date. And after staying in Bangkok for almost a month, he thought about getting his own place. With the help of Kairi he got himself a nice and small apartment in a decent neighbourhood. He even got a job as a part time bouncer for a club. As Kairi was working as a waitress she had a wide social network and she was friends with some of the girls working in afore mentioned club. They were having a hard time with some very rude and impertinent customers. So it was not far fetched that with his background and appearance he was perfect for the job. He was becoming unbend and made a few friends even. When he called Steve the other night, his friend mentioned that he was becoming more Bucky and less Winter Soldier. He had to promise the other super soldier that Bucky would introduce the woman who unfroze his heart soon.

Life was good. He felt that he finally had arrived in the 21st century. Bucky looked down at the sleeping woman in his arms and couldn't help but smile. He kissed her head and hugged her tighter, his eyes closing and sleep finally taking over him as well.

The former Winter Soldier awoke to an unknown amount of noise. It sounded a lot like things breaking and crashing. His brain still heavy with sleep couldn't figure out the source yet. Bucky got up and noticed that he was alone. “Doll?” He called out while putting a shirt on. The crashing noises grew louder and a scream let Bucky's blood freeze. Adrenaline rushed through his body and he was back in fight mode in an instance. He stormed into the living room, hands balled to fists ready to fight. But nobody was here. The furnishings were overthrown, a broken vase laid on the ground. But there was no sight of Kairi. With panic raising Bucky searched the small apartment. But he was utterly alone. Anger boiled in him, whoever took her from him would pay dearly! Just when he was about to leave the apartment, the unharmed TV sprung to live. Bucky was greeted with a white light and a voice that sent shivers down to his very core. Hydra, he thought immediately. “Good day, Mr. Barnes. I believe we haven't met. Please have a seat my friend.” The smooth voice told Bucky, who stood in front of the TV and didn't move a muscle. “Don't want to sit? Fine with me. I have to say I was rather surprised to read a report, saying that our Winter Soldier was alive and somewhat rehabilitated.” Bucky tried to get as many information out of this obscure conversation as possible. As much as he wanted to shout and tell the man to get to the point, his tactical side took over. “And I was even more surprised to hear that you were here in my beautiful city.” You could hear the sly smile in the voice. “I believe you already figured out what we want, Mr. Barnes.” Bucky gritted his teeth together. Of course he knew what they want. Him, back on duty. Back as the mindless killing machine. “Before you say anything you would regret you should take into account that we have something of much value to you...” The screen went from bight to dark and a shuffling noise could be heard and after a minute, a face came into view. The image made Bucky gulp and he anger threatened to boil over, his metal arm crunched with a metallic sound. Kairi's face was covered in blood and bruises. She was barely conscious. Two hands had to hold her face into the camera, so Bucky could see her. This made him sick to the stomach and he had to mentally calm himself down. At least she was alive, he kept telling himself. The screen flickered again and the bright white light was back and so was the velvety voice. “Well, I think you are more than keen to comply, aren't you?” Bucky clenched his fists tighter. “Ready to comply.” Was all he hissed. The screen went black and his cellphone buzzed.

After the initial shock and disgust, Bucky complied. Kairi's life was on the line after all. The tasks Hydra told him to do were rather simple. It involved killing some people without getting seen or caught. And after 10 hits they would release the woman that he loved and he was free to go. Bucky scoffed at that, he knew better than to believe it. So he had to save her on his own. Luckily the Hydra agents weren't what they used to be. The super soldier easily extracted the information he needed to pinpoint Kairis location. “Just a little while longer, doll.” he thought to himself while he disarmed a patrolling agent. Getting in was easy and if he had had more time to think about it and wouldn't have been so pre-occupied with fear and sorrow, he would have seen it coming. But all he could think of was Kairi. And when he finally found her deep in the facility he couldn't suppress a relieved sob. He cradled her bruised form carefully in his arms. The violet haired woman whimpered and slowly opened her eyes. “Bucky?” She muttered breathlessly. “I got you, doll. You're safe now!” Relieve flooded him and he placed feather-light kisses on her hair, forehead, nose and everywhere he could reach without hurting her further. “Let's get out of here.” He picked her up bridal style and just when he was about to reach the door a gunshot graced his metal shoulder. Bucky moved within a second. His metal arm released her legs gently and he took the extra second to make sure she was able to stand on her feet. With his right hand he steadied her while he used his left hand to deflect the bullets as best as he could. Adrenaline cursed though his body, he was so occupied to shield the woman in his arm, that he missed the prick of the needle in his exposed neck. His body suddenly felt stiff and the fire stopped. In total shock his eyes searched for the familiar emerald ones. But this time they weren't full of love or even fear due to this whole situation – no this time they were like the gem stones, hard and unyielding. The drug was working, sending his body into overdrive. He felt his legs gave in and his head throbbed painfully. He only half registered that Kairi freed herself from his arm and made her way through the other end of the room. Still pretty beaten up but not as weak on her feet than a minute before, she stood dutifully next to the door. “Well, well, well. You exceeded our time frame, Mr. Barnes.” An all too familiar velvety voice announced cheerfully. A dark, tall man wearing an expensive suit walked in. “It pains me too see that we had to use Agent V's talents to finally get to you.” He gave Kairi a small nod which she returned.

Can't be too careful with your company

But all Bucky could see was his woman stand next to those Hydra agents. He couldn't believe it. He refused to do so! A pain much grater than all the countless battle wounds he suffered settled in. He was such a fool for trusting her. Just when he thought that he deserved this happiness, destiny came and proved him wrong. She tricked him! But what was even worse, he let her. Bucky was furious! Her betrayal weighed heavy on his chest. Breathing became almost unbearable with every breath and every heartbeat the realization sunk deeper into his brain. “I think now he is more open to comply again, sir.” Kairi observed, her eyes taking in her lovers haunched state. “Very well then!” The man in charge clapped his hands. “Get Mr. Barnes set up for the procedure, Agent V.”

The drug and his broken heart made his attempts at resisting futile. Two strong arms dragged him to the wall and chained his hands behind his back. He swore when Shuri finally rid him from the programming that he would not be made into a mindless killing machine ever again. But although his vow he was slipping in and out of consciousness. Kairi was saying something to the other agent but he couldn't make out the words. His head felt clouded and dizzy. He was about to pass out completely.

The first thing he felt, when he finally regained consciousness was a warm and wet cloth pressed gently to his temple and forehead. His eyes fluttered and violet hair came into his view. “Kairi...” Bucky breathed out. “Shh, don't speak.” She hushed him and continued to wipe his forehead. “How could you...” He slurred still affected from the drug she gave him. Kairi paid him no mind, her attention was set on something else. Two other agents joined them and Kairi's whole body stiffened slightly. “I don't need help... or a babysitter.” Kairi quipped while helping Bucky to stand up. “Suit yourself, V.” One of the agents scoffed but left the room nonetheless. The female agent made quick work of his chuckles. Once free, he slumped against her firm body, resting nearly all his body weight on her. “We need to hurry, Buck.” The former Winter Soldier wasn't sure what was going on, he still had a hard time believe that she was a Hydra agent. The drug was loosing its effect on him slowly. Rather slow the made it out of the room and into the long and sterile looking floor. Bucky attempted to stand on his own, still wobbly on his feet and dizzy from the heavy drugs the violet haired woman gave him. Kairi was looking over her shoulder the entire time they walked through this underground maze. A piercing sound tore through the air and distant shouting could be heard. Bucky raised an eyebrow and looked questioningly to his guard. “Seems like we've been caught.” Kairi mocked and increased her speed. Bucky's mind was reeling, why would they've been caught? Wasn't she just transferring him to another cell or something?

“What is going on, Kairi?” The use of her actual name rather the endearment hurt her more than she would like to admit. “What does it look like? I'm busting you out!” Bucky couldn't trust his ears. But she was Hydra? So why on earth would she help him? A small fracking of his heart chimed in hopefully. “Because she does love you!” He tried to nip this feeling in the bud. There was literally no time for emotions now. Later, not now. He hoped that there would be a later when they accounted a couple of agents at the end of the corridor.

“What is this all about, Agent V?” One of them wanted to know. “I am done with you guys!” Kairi exclaimed with a smug smile on her face and balled her hands to fists. “When I say now, shield your eyes with your metal arm, Bucky.” She whispered to the man beside her. “You rat!” And with that shout the Hydra agents launched forward. “NOW!”

A blinding white light erupted from her palms. The agents screamed in agony and tried to cover their eyes but it was too late. One after another slumped to the ground with a final thud. After the intensity decreased Bucky had to blink a few times to see something. “We need to hurry now!” Kairi noted while making her way past the bodies. Bucky followed her suit. He noticed in passing that the eyes of the agents were burned out and only black sockets looked back at the ceiling.

“What the hell are you?!” Bucky wanted to know when he caught up to her. “I am gifted and a long time ago Daisy Johnson recruited me to work for SHIELD.” They crossed another empty hallway, their heavy footsteps echoing in the silence. “Look, I know you have questions, but right now, we need to get out of here! I will explain everything to you. I promise!” Bucky had a hard time believing her again. But what she said made sense. A while ago, he ran into Daisy himself and he talked to her about her project. But she was right, getting out of here was the priority. The dark haired man couldn't help himself but to glance at her running beside him. He was impressed and terrified at the same time of her powers.

I can feel the devil walking next to me

Escaping the secret Hydra facility wasn't easy but not unmanageable. In no time Bucky found himself inside a helicopter, Kairi piloting and contacting Daisy at the same time. And for the first time after this debacle had started he allowed himself to feel hope. He looked to the side, at this incredible woman who owned his heart. She noticed his gaze and looked at him. The sun was just announcing a new day and the warm light shone upon them, Kairi reached for his hand but stopped midway, doubt and fear holding her back. She was pleasantly surprised when she felt a cool and firm grip on her still hoovering hand. She looked up from their interlaced fingers and met his open gaze. Maybe there was hope after all. Kairi smiled and squeezed Bucky's hand reassuringly. There was a lot to talk about but for now they both were sure, that there was still hope.

Hope that this fateful night in Bangkok did led to a brighter future.

#marvel one shot #Bucky Barnes x OFC #mimi's one hit wonder challenge #mcu #winter soldier #bucky barnes #sasa writes

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riddlesandqueries · 5 years

Text

Excerpt

A brief roleplay scenario with @darcimasonusb and @enterthecocoon concerning conspiracy, crime, and damsels in distress.

Though many criticized Drury’s taste when it comes to fashion, he thought it was a smart Idea to wait in casual clothes that had reminiscent qualities to his Moth suit, waiting in an orange jacket, purple pullover, and green trousers, all toned down to more moderate levels as too bright colours would attract unwanted attention swirling around him. People really were just like Moths.

Someone who wasn’t looking for Killer Moth wouldn’t recognize him, so only his fellow rogue Edward Nygma, A.K.A. the Riddler, would be aware of his true self- and hopefully be persuaded to let him be part of whatever his grand plan is. Asking around in the darker parts of this city, Drury wasn’t even able to pick up on any rumors of what he may be planning - but there is always a calm before the storm and no doubt the only reason the Riddler would be silent for so long was because he was busy with preparations - whatever he may be preparing. He took a final sip of the milkshake he bought at the Hill street cafe, placed the empty glass on the table and stood up. His potential collaborator should be here any moment. He looked around: no sign of him yet.

Hoping that Mr. Nygma hadn’t forgotten about their meeting - or even worse, purposefully stood him up, he took out a Star Wars comic that he recently bought out of his jacket to diminish the waiting time while reading it. Perhaps following Jedi Knight Ki-Adi Mundi on his journey through the desert planet of Tatooine would bring him to less self-deprecating thoughts.

Conversely, dressing down for Edward was simply a matter of adjusting style. There was shifting colour to match the season, more deviance from the standard pallet, but there was never much mistaking, for those who knew what to look for, who he was.

Precisely on time, Edward closed his pocket watch as he strolled in, and pocketed it as he looked about. Ah, there. No mistaking the brand: obtaining a quick coffee to go, Edward meandered over to Drury. “Mr Walker?”

“Ah!” Drury recognized him, closing his comic book to put it back in his jacket and politely holding out his hand. “Mr. Nygma!”

Taken, shaken. “What were you reading?”

After shaking Edward’s, Drury led his hand back to the pocket and pulled the comic back out, the cover displaying a wise-looking old man with a white beard weilding a magenta-bladed Lightsaber, posing in front of animals and bandaged characters that Edward may have recognized as Banthas and Tusken Raiders respectively. Above the characters, the title of the comic was presented: Star Wars: Outlander The Exile of Sharad Hett - Issue 5. "Oh, it’s just a little comic I read to pass the time. It just came out today, so I picked it up on the way here.“

"Oooo, new one. I’ll have to catch the new issue on the way back, I’ve been way behind.” he chuckled, wiggling his coffee. “No spoilers, hm?”

“Oh, you’re reading it, too?”, Drury asked. “I mean, if you’ve been behind, I could borrow you some of my comics. The story is getting a lot more interesting than the first arc and ties better into the new Movie.”

“Reading, no. Have yet to begin, yes.” he admitted. “Now…what’s all this about, Drury?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Drury responded. “You’re planning something big, aren’t you? I’d like to be part of it.”

Edward paused for a beat, brows raised, and then sipped his coffee with a smirk. “How’d you guess.”

Drury smirked back. He thought this a sign of admittance. “Your silence spoke more than a thousand words. You’ve been too quiet lately. And whenever I think "I sure wonder what the Riddler’s up to, I’ve not heard from him in a while”, the next day’s papers report on you trapping Commissioner Gordon in a virtual reality game. Or taking over a toy company. What’s it gonna be this time? I’d love to get involved!“

Edward’s smirk never moved, even at the mention of The Incident. Note to self, destroy newspaper archive. "You would, huh? I have to say, I don’t usually take on any accomplices.” he frowned, casually peering into his coffee, as if it had some counsel for him on the subject. “I confess, I’m a bit of a lone wolf about my affairs, and I think this one might be somewhat out of your wheelhouse, Walker.”

“C-come on, I’m sure I can be of help somehow!”, Drury interjected. “I can show you how useful I can be! We could look around if we see the Cops chasing some crook, I could make sure they don’t get them!”

“You think so?”

“I know so! Saving crooks from the cops is my modus operandi!”

How is that meant to match up with mine, I wonder. “Perhaps I need a demonstration.” offered Edward, having another sip. “To see what would actually be at play.”

Drury placed down his milkshake. “Should we go out and look for some criminal running for the cops? Shouldn’t be too hard to find in this city.”

“Sure~” Why not? It’d give him time to think of a polite blow-off.

“Excellent!” Drury got up and opened the door of his car. “After you!”

“Thank you~” he smiled, sliding in. This should make for a fun afternoon, looking about for mischief with a D-lister. But bothering the cops? Might want to start a little smaller. “I have an idea, Walker.”

An ecstatic “Oh? Yes?”, came out of a grinning Drury, eager to impress another rogue.

“Instead of hunting out those dunderheaded police, why don’t we raise the stakes a bit?” he offered slyly, smiling in clear conspiracy. “And pursue a criminal instead. Someone bright enough to think like us? That’s a challenge.”

“Oh…of course! Not quite my style, but I think I should be able to do it!”

“Not a sincere catch, mind you.” he chuckled kindly. “Just enough to shake up some street-level mugger, have a little fun.”

Drury placed his hands on the steering wheel and started up the engine. As if Killer Moth couldn’t handle a common crook. “Consider it done!”

Darci had a straightforward, however tame, day ahead of her. Take in the surroundings. Learn the area. Make note of any signs or signals that may cross her path. Street Smarts.

For this occasion, she wore a maroon coat over a black and white patterned pencil dress. Something autumn to get used to the times. The idea was to just walk around town and don’t look suspicious. And surprisingly enough, she was succeeding! Until she left the bustling crowded streets, that is.

Meanwhile, for the small-time crook known as Clyde, this had been a day of realisation. He was starting to notice how poorly thought-out his tactic of driving around the emptier streets of the city and robbing whoever walked around alone was - no one with a decent amount of money ever came to this part of the city, and the places they did come to were too crowded to pull anything.

But as if fortuna herself had heard him, he spotted a dainty, easily-overpowered young lady walk around the streets. Putting his mask on, he parked in front of her and got out of his vehicle. “Hello, lady.”, he said. “That’s a nice purse.”

Darci took a second to recognize the situation. She knew exactly what was gonna happen. Oh and what fun it would be. “Hello, person.” she replied. “That’s a nice mask.”

“Why, thanks.” he said dryly, taking out his gun. “I bet the purse’s contents are nice, as well. Show me.”

“Oh nooo.” she said in a rather monotone voice. “Whatever shall I do?” Darci walked up to him, with a funny sort of smile. She looked straight down the center pin of his revolver. “You know, you also have a nice gun!” she laughed. One hand crept onto the barrel like a spider while the other tucked her clutch behind her back. “It’s a darned shame isn’t it?” She had a solid grip.

Clyde became somewhat unsettled at the blonde’s reaction. Was she too foolish to realise the situation? Or perhaps, it was he who didn’t know what he was dealing with.

————

Meanwhile, looking for crime through a pair of binoculars on top of a building, Drury Walker’s sight fell upon the robber and his uncooperative victim. “Hey, Edward.”, he said, handing him the binoculars. “Isn’t that girl there being robbed?”

The drive to a random building and the consequent climb up the fire escape was daring enough, but now, Edward wondered, as they scanned the area in broad daylight, was this the very picture of the Dark Knight’s moonlighting? Or, in this case, is it daylighting..?

Reverie interrupted, Edward calmly peered down to the scene in question.“Looks like it, Walker. What’s the plan?”

“We track the crook, incapacitate him and get the poor lady’s belongings back. Can you make out his license plate?”

“Not from here, but you know, we could probably catch up. Looks to me like they’re arguing.”

“That gives us more time! To the Mothmobile!” he exclaimed, despite knowing full well that the car they travelled with was not said Mothmobile. Edward followed, swift on Drury’s heels.

—–

Clyde just stared at the lady’s confused reaction. Was this some sort of self-defense strategy? “Hands off!” he shouted, trying to rip the gun from her grasp.

Darci was more than calm with an iron grip. “What’s the matter? Are you…” she lifted the gun out of his hands and held it like a cigarette. “Nervous?” Her deviance had shined through. Darci taunted him by fiddling with the gun. “Getting a closer look at this really makes me appreciate the craftsmanship… I think I’ll be keeping it!”

Then, in a rush she got a brilliant idea! It wasn’t everyday she could get to do this you know.

“Oh and! Let’s not forget all the trouble you put me through!” she dramatized the past minute “I’ll accept your jacket as payment!” She pointed the gun at Clyde, smiling as if to say ‘pleasure doing business with you!’.

Tapped, Clyde slowly pushed the sleeves off of his shoulders. “Didn’t know you were another crook…”

“Yeah, well, when you assume it makes an ass outta you! But you already did that when you pulled up here, didn’t'cha?” Darci held her aim steady, watching his move.

He carefully handed her his jacket, then raised his arms up.

“Good! Good! Now get outta here ya rascal!” she laughed, lowering the revolver. A job well done :). Darci folded the jacket neatly over her arm.

Carefully, the robber stepped back to his car, his hands kept up.

“Halt! I have seen everything!” came a voice from the side, and as they followed its sound their eyes met a tall, muscular man in a full, overly bright Moth costume. Clyde wasn’t sure what to make of this. A new addition to the bat family? The red eyes of the bugman laid onto the Robber. “Worry not, fair citizen, for today, the Killer Moth seeks to bring justice. And you…” He now looked upon Darci. “Taking some poor, innocent soul at gunpoint and stealing his jacket…you should be ashamed of yourself!”

“Ack!” Darci jumped up in surprise and pointed the revolver at Killer Moth. Her hands were shaky. The tacky uniform. The overly enthusiastic voice. The oddly muscular body. It all set off alarms in her head. It’s obvious this is one of Schott’s toys.

“Damn you! You think you can just take me to em’ that easy? Yeah, I don’t fucking think so!”

Is this how Crooks usually react to being caught? Moth wondered. No wonder Batman is always in such a bad mood.

He returned by aiming his cocoon gun at her and having the other hand ready to start up the Wings on his back. “Resistance is futile! Drop your weapon.”

How long did he take to make this guy?

“Funny! I was just about to say the same thing!” she fired the weapon at Moth’s left wing and attempted to dodge behind Clyde’s car. Whatever his gimmick was, she didn’t want to see it in action.

Taken aback by the Gunshot, Moth tried to dodge by ungracefully leaping aside, landing on his arm and unwillingly shooting a blast of cocoon substance, revealing his gimmick. Having saved his wing in the process, he began to hover up in the air and surprise her from above.

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ!” she blurted out. The gunk from his gun looks like it immobilizes the target. Right.

“So that’s what you do! This bootleg action figure trick is getting old, actually.” she walked backwards and aimed again. “What is this? The third time he’s made someone like you? Jeez.”

1. 2. 3. Fire! She shot the cocoon blaster.

The bullet pulled the gun out of his hand, having it hit the street. Moth reached to his utility belt for a new weapon. Frightened by the shot, Clyde took away in his car. He didn’t care about these freaks killing one another, but he did not want to be involved anymore.

“Bootleg? I am the original! I never copy anyone!” Moth insisted, searching for a new weapon in his utility belt. Not that he was too worried: his suit was designed to tank a bullet or two.

Not wanting to hear his spiel, she tried to fire again. Click! “…” Clickclickclickclickclickclickclick! She threw the revolver to the side. “…” There’s no way you’re winning this fight, Darci.

“Well, it’s been a fun time playing with you, but I really gotta go!” she secured her other items in her arm and skid underneath Moth to find ample means of escape.

“Oh, you’re not getting away that easily, you simple crook!”, he said, flying up behind her, grabbing her by the waist and flying upwards, though she did struggle a lot more than he had expected her to. Furthermore, she felt somewhat strange for a human being, much colder and harder. “What are those? Abs of steel?” Steel?

This scene, as it had played out before him, had been terribly amusing for Edward in the same fashion as a slapstick comedy, but that woman was just too familiar, and steel, of all the words, clicked it all together.

Strolling out of the alley, Edward waved at the pair. “Darci, hi! Is that you?”

Moth sat up and readjusted his helmet. “Edward, you’re here already? I’ve been trying to catch this crook, like you ordered!”

“You mean the crook who was robbing her and got away?”

“Edward!!! Hello!! :D!!” Darci lit up to see her good friend, and hastily wormed her way out of Moth’s arms with ease. That was simpler than I expectedbut oH MY GOD FRIENDFRIENDFRIEND!!! She leapt towards him.

Moth was visibly confused. Did he mess up again? “But…no, wait - she was the robber! I saw her hold the guy at gunpoint and took his jacket!”

Edward opened his arms and embraced Darci with an audible grunt at the impact, settling in with a suppressed cough. “Nice to see you again, sunshine. Drury, this is my friend Darci, she’s no robber. You yourself saw her being held up when we got off the roof: don’t you think it’s sensible to hold someone up when you get the upper hand on them?”

“I didn’t make out who was holding whom up, but..uh…” He took off his helmet and put his face in his hand in shame. “I messed up again, didn’t I? Darci, I think your name was, I’m really sorry for all the trouble I caused you!”

Darci turned to look at Drury. She took a minute to analyze his laugh lines and other distinguishable facial features. He’d be a very clean cut man if he didn’t have a bad case of helmet hair. “No, no you’re alright. You were just trying to do your job…and, hey, sorry about the whole 'bootleg’ thing. I thought you were someone else.”

His facial expression turned just a little less shameful, he reached out his hand. “It’s fine. Wanna start over? My name’s Drury, Drury Walker.”

She slowly let go of Ed and walked in to shake Drury’s hand. “…Darci Mason.”

“Heh, like the Doll?” he asked, then realised this may offend her. “Sorry, you must get that all the time. It’s just that my daughter loves collecting these.”

She gave a well-meaning smile, but her face crinkled into a worried expression. “Yeah, like that. It’s alright.” Darci let go of his hand. Change the subject to something else. Anything else.

“I hope you’re not hurt or anything…have you seen which direction my Cocoon Gun flew in?”

“I’ve seen worse days. Mm, it went…” retrieving 102899.MP4 After a brief pause:“That way.” she pointed southwest from where Drury was facing.

“Are you all right?” asked Edward, checking her over. “That mugger didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“I’m fine!” she laughed. “I even got some loot out of it! I think it’s a Nautica Jacket…”

“Ah, there it is!”, Drury said after finding the gun. “Thank you, Miss Mason, you’ve got a pretty good eye!”

Edward laughed softly, quite amused. “Nice score. Walker and I were on a hunt for criminals, just to see how they operate. He spotted you while you were getting mugged, so he came in to try and stop it.”

“So that’s why!” She snapped her fingers. “That sounds exciting!”

“It’s been fun so far: didn’t think we’d actually run into anyone interesting, so this is a real treat for me.” he nodded proudly. “Walker’s not aiming to hurt you, I promise…At least, as far as I know.”

“I’m not! I promise!”, Drury threw in defensively.

“There, see? Silly mistake~. We rogues can be such goofs.”

"Hmm.” Darci circled around Drury a couple times. Putting her hand to her chin and audibly saying “mmhm” more than a few times with a look of playful suspicion. After a sustained pause… “I’ll give him the Charles Atlas Seal of Approval!” she clapped!

#enterthecocoon #darcimasonusb #long post #roleplay #dcau askblog #gun tw

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vergils-daughter · 5 years

Note

Ahihi! It's my turn! 🖤🖤🖤 Can I please request for V and Reader splitting up, with her trying so much to make him stay but, he still leaves? Then, many, MANY weeks later, he seeks her out, wanting to fix things with her. I want to see what's your take in it. Thank ya! 🖤🖤🖤

Well, first thing I am sorry it took me so long. And a second apology - I may have gone a little crazy and literally punched the canon in the face. But I like to describe time and place and put Reader in specific environment. If you wish, I can write more canon-like fic, just let me now :-)

V x Reader splitting up

This should have never taken place. Nevertheless, just like small sand grains all these malices, divergences, bagatelles became serious misunderstandings and started to disturb the work of delicate mechanism called your relationship. All this leads to the day when V leaves you…

“You need to understand that I can change myself for you, but i cannot stop being myself!”

Of course it would not be the first time he leaves the apartment to put his mind at ease. The way you are, you could make a stone crack from rage and V, despite his phlegmatic temperament, has his limits, too.

“I cannot be with someone who controls every aspect of my life. I need space!” - this is one of those rare occasions when V talks with his voice raised up. You are standing face to face in your small apartment. V’s silhouette is towering above you, as he is much taller than you, but in reality it is you who is the dominating one. You felt it in the way he turns his head. He is talking to you but it is already obvious that he wants to retreat. He wants to escape. No way!

“First of all, do not shout” - you speak with a cold voice - “and secondly, I do not control you, but I do organize our life, because YOU are not capable of it”.

Ouch. You see how he snorts and how his muscles show when he clenches his jaws. Then he opens his mouth as though he wanted to say something, but you cannot allow him to interrupt.

“You don’t have a normal job and because of all this business Dante dragged you into you almost died. Certainly you are not fit to be a demon hunter, V! Has that episode with Qliphot not taught you anything?

"Well, it is good that you always support me” - he speaks with a hurt tone.

“Spare me! You are saying, that I organize your life, but in fact you are angry that someone other than that long dead poet tries to put everything in order. Grow up, at least a little!” - Your anger starts to overflow you and the next wave takes you with it. V grabs his book and makes a move as if he wanted to open it. - “Don’t you dare to put a quote or I will throw this fucking book through the window!”

V clenches his fingers on the book as though he was afraid that you would really take it away from him. His eyes become dark, he has had enough. He turns his back to you and speaks very slowly.

“There is not a thing in me that you like. Maybe you were just wrong about me?”

And now he … This was getting out of control. Maybe this time you pushed him too far? You approach him and grab his arm in an attempt to turn him to face you, but he just pushes you away.

“You know that is not the case, V!” - you try, desperately.

“The truth is… I do not know, what IS. And I do not want to enquire any longer.”

With increasing amazement you watch him take his coat and the bag which he always took for the long missions. Then he walks towards the door.

Not entirely understanding what is happening now – or maybe, not wanting to understand? – you shout behind him:

“Don’t you dare leave!”

But of course that doesn’t stop him. When the door slams behind him you call out, so that he can hear you from the corridor.

“Don’t you think I will cry after you!”

Well, you do that a bit later, when you wake up at the morning, after a night spent on frenetic cleaning of the apartment, and find out that all of his stuff is gone. He must have come when you were asleep, but he did not wake you up. He took his books and clothes and just disappeared from your life. Perhaps for ever.

…

Dante wouldn’t be himself if he simply accepted just like that what had happened. When you said that you are moving to the far east, he looked at you as though he saw you for the first time.

You cross your arms and shake your head.

“But it is not the fault of this..” - he tries.

“Dante, I need to be back in my homeland” - you interrupt him before he starts the topic you very much wish to avoid right now. It is obvious that your splitting up with V sent some shock waves across the demon hunters’ world. Your romance started dramatically after the destruction of Qliphot and you saving V from crumbling into pieces. The rituals you had to use will give the demonologists something to ponder on for at least a few decades. However hard you and V may have tried to maintain some privacy afterwards, you were quite famous for a while.

“I have on offer for you, though” - you add. “I will set up a DMC branch office. Where I used to live there are demons, too, and there is no one to take care of all that rabble. Besides, I want to come back to giving lectures. I have so much to offer to my students after this Qliphot incident.”

Dante nods.

“You surely are not the type of person whose mind one can easily change, are you?” - he says, but you can see a genuine disappointment in his eyes.

Well, hell no, you are not.

…

“The concept of performing rituals that are based on demonic artifacts is very tempting, however the risk is very high. Sadly, not all of us are sons of Sparda” - you smile when you see the halls’ reaction to that - “…who can easily switch between the astral states of the soul. This is why for us, humans, rituals which originate from our tradition and available resources are more appropriate. Today we will talk about the angels’ talisman.”

You turn towards the board and draw a circle. The chalk squeaks, accompanied by the scratching of the pens and pencils. The hall is full, you notice not without satisfaction. The young, the old, a few theorists and occultists like yourself, but also some hunters marked with scars. Some of them are taking notes, and some came to listen, like this tall guy sitting in the last row, all in black…

Your squint as your weak eyes cannot see him clearly from this distance, but his silhouette seems familiar. You shake your head and resume the lecture. You do not have any time for this.

As the lecture ends, for some reason you leave the hall quickly when the lecture ends, before any of your students has a chance to rise from their seat.

Not now, not now…

From the university you go straight to the DMC office and the thought of all the work that awaits you there causes you to release a small sigh. You took a lot on yourself and even the fact that you no longer do any field work did not help. It got even worse – when your team is on the mission, you coordinate the transport and the details of payment and future commissions. You wonder how Morrison managed to work without a place to store all the documents and contacts. As you are walking by a store, the light of street lanterns reflecting in its windows, a thought crosses your mind – perhaps running an antiques shop would be an interesting change in your life?

But when you look at the window you see the reflection of a person following you.

You feel the shivers running across your spine. You are sure that is it not a random pedestrian that goes in the same direction as you. You feel the attention focusing on you. You pretend that you did not notice anything and try to keep a monotonous pace and walk as though nothing happened.

Something tells you that you should not run or it will be like in one of this silly horror movies. The tapping of your steps and the beating of your heart muffle all other sounds. You grab your talisman subconsciously and you focus so much on that someone stalking you that you don’t notice a man who arrives from around the corner. With a surprised cry you both fall down to the ground.

And when you try to get up quickly, not sure if to fight or apologize, you see the face of the man you fell on. V’s face.

That is, you see a bearded guy with a long ponytail, so unlike this sleek mage that miraculously survived the destruction of Qliphot. Wearing linen pants, a black t-shirt and a heavy coat that covers his tattoos. In clothes that are surprisingly… plain. And in boots instead of his favorite sandals, although that is a little less surprising as it is wet and cold on this distant isle he arrived at.

But the eyes… they remained the same. You were unable to forget them, even though you have been trying so hard. If your heart was pounding like crazy in your chest a moment ago, now it is clenched painfully like a fist. You jump up and watch V rising up. Ah. Whoever was following you a moment ago, vanished. Was it a trick of V’s?

“What are you doing here?” - you say through clenched teeth. You look at him in a way you hope looks hostile. V brushes away some stray hair form his face in a manner so familiar to you and smiles shyly. You really want to rub this smile off of his face with a fist.

“We need to talk” - he says.

You rise you arms as in defense and shake your head. But before you manage to say something, he grabs your arms and pulls close to him.

“I was wrong, I cannot make it without you, you were right, I am not fit to all this” - he says on one breath, hugging you tight. You feel that he trembles.

“V, I…” - you make an attempt to see something, but he holds you even tighter.

“Forgive me for leaving you, S/Y. This world is full of suffering and I cannot separate myself from it. All of this is too strong…” - he presses his lips to your ear - “You gave me peace and calamity. I cannot live without it…”

“V, you cannot live in a constant fight” - at last you can say something. - “You are not capable of killing. This is why you felt so lost…”

“But I’ve changed my job” - he says.

“Wha…” - you are at a loss for words now. You tilt your head and look at him with amusement. -“You… resigned from being a demon hunter?!”

V only nods his head.

“And… what do you do then?”

“I… collect magical artifacts and… stuff. Rare books. Dante helped me to organize a small shop, I run something similar to a used book seller.”

You shake your head as you cannot believe what you hear. You take a deep breath, because it costs you a lot to say what has to be said.

“I… shouldn’t have imposed anything on you and tried to gain control over you. I only wanted to… protect you, but not by changing you. For that you must forgive me” - you end the sentence in a voice so quiet that you are not sure if he heard you at all. You look at him, not sure what you will find in his eyes, but there is only pure adoration on his face. He leans towards you and kisses your lips, very gently, and you cannot hide that you missed it so much.

You loose track of time in this intimate moment. You feel that an urgent desire awakens in you to recall one additional aspect of your relationship. With a sigh you break the kiss and take his hand.

“Umm… do you have a place to stay for the night? Because I have an apartment nearby, so..

"I do not. Will you invite me?”

“On one condition”.

He gives you a suspicious look, but calms down when he sees your smile.

“You need to shave this beard. I bet that when you are summoning Nightmare you look like a Santa on drugs.”

And the Polish version:

To się miało nigdy nie wydarzyć. A jednak, niczym powoli nawiewane ziarna piasku, wszystkie te złośliwości, rozbieżności, drobnostki urosły do rangi poważnych nieporozumień, zakłóciły delikatny mechanizm, którym był wasz związek. Wszystko to doprowadziło do dnia, w którym V cię opuścił.

-Musisz zrozumieć, że mogę się dla ciebie zmienić, ale nie mogę przestać być sobą!

Oczywiście, nie byłby to pierwszy raz, gdy opuścił mieszkanie w poszukiwaniu chwili oddechu. Masz tę skłonność, że nawet kamień potrafi przy tobie pęknąć z wściekłości, a V, mimo swojego flegmatycznego temperamentu, też ma swoje granice.

-Nie mogę być z osobą, która kontroluje każdy aspekt mojego życia. Potrzebuje też miejsca dla siebie! – to jeden z niewielu momentów, gdy V mówi podniesionym głosem. Stoicie naprzeciw siebie w salonie, w małym mieszkanku, które dzielicie od paru tygodni. Sylwetka V wznosi się nad tobą, jest wyższy o głowę, ale tak naprawdę to ty nad nim dominujesz. Czujesz to w sposobie, w jaki na wpół odwraca głowę, słowa kieruje do ciebie, ale już widać, że chce się wycofać. Chce uciec. Niedoczekanie.

-Po pierwsze, nie krzycz – rzucasz zimnym tonem – po drugie, nie kontroluję ciebie, tylko ORGANIZUJĘ nam życie, bo ty nie jesteś w stanie tego zrobić.

Auć. Widzisz, jak się żachnął, a mięśnie odznaczyły się pod skórą, gdy zacisnął szczęki. Otwiera usta, by coś powiedzieć, ale nie pozwalasz mu.

-Nie masz normalnej pracy, a przez ten cały biznes, w który cię wciągnął Dante, prawie zginąłeś. Przecież ty się nie nadajesz na łowcę demonów, V! Ten jeden epizod z Klifotem cię nie przekonał?

-Dobrze jest mieć w tobie wsparcie – mówi urażonym tonem.

-Och, daruj sobie! Mówisz, że ja ci organizuję życie, ale tak naprawdę to jesteś zły, że ktoś inny poza jakimś dawno nieżyjącym poetą próbuje ci wszystko poukładać. Dorośnij choć trochę. – gniew przelewa się kolejnymi falami i unosi cię ze sobą. V wyjmuje z kieszeni książkę i wykonuje ruch, jakby chciał ją otworzyć. - I ani mi się waż rzucić jakimś cytatem, bo wywalę tę pieprzoną książkę przez okno!

V zaciska palce na książce, jakby bał się, że mu ją wyrwiesz. Jego oczy ciemnieją, ma już dość. Odwraca się od ciebie i mówi powoli.

-Nic ci we mnie nie pasuje. Może po prostu myliłaś się co do mnie?

Czujesz, jak grunt usuwa ci się spod nóg. Chyba tym razem za bardzo go przycisnęłaś. Podchodzisz do niego i chwytasz za ramię, próbując go obrócić twarzą do siebie, ale się wyrywa.

-Wiesz, że nie o to chodzi, V!

-Prawda jest taka, że ja już nie wiem, o co ci chodzi. I nie mam ochoty dłużej dociekać. – z rosnącym zdumieniem patrzysz, jak sięga po swój płaszcz, bierze torbę, którą zabierał na dłuższe misje i kieruje się w stronę drzwi.

Nie do końca rozumiejąc, co się właśnie dzieje – albo nie chcąc rozumieć – krzyczysz za nim.

-Ani mi się waż wychodzić!

Ale to go oczywiście nie zatrzymuje. Kiedy drzwi zatrzaskują się za nim, wołasz jeszcze, licząc na to, że usłyszy cię na klatce schodowej.

-I nie myśl, że będę za tobą płakać!

Robisz to znacznie później, kiedy po nocy spędzonej na frenetycznym sprzątaniu mieszkania budzisz się rano i orientujesz się, że zniknęły jego rzeczy. Musiał przyjść, kiedy spałaś, ale nie obudził cię. Zapakował swoje książki i ubrania i po prostu zniknął z twojego życia.

…

Oczywiście Dante nie mógł tego zrozumieć. Kiedy zapowiedziałaś swoją przeprowadzkę na wschód, popatrzył na ciebie jakby cię zobaczył pierwszy raz w życiu. Krzyżujesz ręce i kręcisz głową.

-Ale to nie wina tego…

-Dante, wracam w rodzinne strony. – rzucasz szybko nim pociągnie temat, którego wolałabyś teraz uniknąć. Oczywiście, że twoje rozstanie z V rozeszło się już szerokim echem po światku łowców demonów. Wasz romans zaczął się dramatycznie, od zniszczenia Klifota, ocalenia V od rozpadnięcia się na miliony kawałków, a rytuały, które były w to zaangażowane, zapewnią demonologom materiał do badań na kolejne dziesięciolecia. Jakkolwiek próbowalibyście zachować prywatność, przez jakiś czas byliście dość popularni - Ale mam dla ciebie propozycję. Założę filię DMC. Tam, gdzie mieszkam, też zdarzają się demony, a brakuje kogoś, kto ogarnąłby całą tę hałastrę. Poza tym chcę wrócić do wykładów. Mam za dużo do zaoferowania studentom po tej przygodzie z Klifotem.

Dante tylko pokiwał głową.

-Cóż, nie jesteś osobą, której zdanie łatwo zmienić, co? – rzuca, ale widzisz w jego oczach szczery zawód.

Oczywiście, że nie jesteś.

…

-Koncepcja przeprowadzania rytuałów opartych o artefakty demonicznej proweniencji jest kusząca, ale niesie ze sobą spore ryzyko. W końcu nie każdy z nas jest synem Spardy – uśmiechasz się, widząc poruszenie na Sali - który potrafi swobodnie przechodzić między astralnymi stanami duszy. Dlatego dla ludzi bardziej odpowiednie są rytuały oparte na naszych tradycjach i dostępnych środkach. Dziś omówimy talizman aniołów.

Obracasz się w stronę tablicy i rysujesz na niej okrąg. Kreda skrzypi po tablicy przy akompaniamencie skrobania długopisów i ołówków. Cała sala jest pełna, zauważasz z zadowoleniem. Osoby młode, stare, teoretycy i okultyści jak ty, ale też poznaczeni bliznami łowcy. Niektórzy pilnie notują, inni tylko słuchają, jak na przykład ten odziany na czarno wysoki typ siedzący w ostatnim rzędzie…

Marszczysz brwi – z tej odległości twoje słabe oczy nie widzą go wyraźnie, ale jego sylwetka wydaje się znajoma. Kręcisz głową i wracasz do wykładu. Nie masz teraz na to czasu. Z jakiegoś też powodu wychodzisz z sali jak tylko kończy się wykład, zanim ktokolwiek ze studentów zdąży wstać.

Nie teraz, nie teraz…

Z uniwersytetu kierujesz się prosto do biura DMC, a na samą myśl o czekającej tam pracy wzdychasz ciężko. Sporo na siebie wzięłaś i nawet rezygnacja z pracy w terenie nie odciążyła się. Gorzej – kiedy twoja ekipa jest na misji, ty koordynujesz transport, dogadujesz szczegóły zapłaty i kolejne zlecenia. Zastanawiasz się, jak Morrison to wszystko ogarniał bez jednego miejsca, w którym trzymałby wszystkie papiery i kontakty. Kiedy mijasz witrynę sklepu, w której odbija się światło ulicznej latarni, przychodzi ci na myśl, że prowadzenie sklepu z artefaktami mogłoby być ciekawą odmianą.

A kiedy zerkasz na szybę, widzisz odbicie postaci podążającej twoim śladem.

Włosy jeżą ci się na karku. Jesteś pewna, że to nie jest przypadkowy przechodzień zmierzający w tym samym kierunku. Czujesz jak przez skórę skupioną na tobie uwagę. Nie dajesz po sobie poznać, że coś zauważyłaś. Starasz się zachować jednostajny rytm i iść przed siebie, jakby nigdy nic.

Coś ci mówi, że nie powinnaś zrywać się do biegu, że to będzie jak w jednym z tych głupich horrorów. Odgłos twoich kroków i bicie serca zagłusza wszystkie inne dźwięki. Podświadomie zaciskasz palce na amulecie ochronnym i jesteś tak skupiona na obecności za twoimi plecami, że wpadasz z rozpędem na człowieka, który wychodzi zza rogu. Z okrzykiem upadacie na ziemię.

A kiedy otrząsasz się i próbujesz wstać z mężczyzny, na którym leżysz, niepewna, czy powinnaś walczyć, czy przepraszać, dostrzegasz jego twarz. Twarz V.

To znaczy, jakiegoś brodatego, długowłosego gościa z kucykiem, zupełnie niepodobnego do wymuskanego maga, który cudem ocalał zniszczenie Klifota. W lnianych spodniach, czarnym t-shircie i ciężkim płaszczu ukrywającym jego tatuaże. W ubraniu zaskakująco… zwykłym. I w krytych butach, co w sumie nie powinno cię dziwić, bo na tej odległej wyspie, na którą go zagnało, jest zimno i mokro.

Ale te oczy, one pozostały te same. Nie udało ci się ich zapomnieć, mimo że bardzo się przez ostatnie tygodnie starałaś. Jeśli do tej pory twoje serce tłukło się jak szalone w piersi, to teraz ścisnęło się boleśnie jak pięść. Zrywasz się i patrzysz, jak V wstaje powoli. Ktokolwiek cię śledził, zniknął.

-Co tu robisz? – cedzisz przez zaciśnięte zęby. Patrzysz na niego koso, i, masz nadzieję, wrogo. V odgarnia z czoła niesforne kosmyki – ten gest pamiętasz aż za dobrze - i uśmiecha się do ciebie nieśmiało. Masz ochotę zetrzeć mu ten uśmiech z twarzy pięścią.

-Musimy porozmawiać.

Wyrzucasz ręce w górę w obronnym geście i kręcisz głową. Zanim cokolwiek powiesz, V chwyta cię za ramiona i przyciąga do siebie.

-Myliłem się, nie mogę dać sobie bez ciebie rady, miałaś rację, nie nadaję się do tego wszystkiego. – rzuca na wydechu, obejmując cię mocno. Czujesz, jak drży.

-V, ja… – próbujesz coś z siebie wydusić, ale on przytula cię jeszcze mocniej.

-Wybacz, że tak cię zostawiłem, S/Y. Ten świat jest pełen cierpienia, a ja nie potrafię się od niego odseparować. Za mocne jest to wszystko… – przyciska usta do twojego ucha - Dawałaś mi spokój i ukojenie. Nie potrafię bez nich żyć…

-V, nie potrafisz żyć w nieustannej walce – w końcu udaje ci się coś wtrącić – nie jesteś stworzony do zabijania. Dlatego byłeś tak zagubiony…

-Mam inną pracę.

-Co… – na moment cię zatyka. Odchylasz głowę i patrzysz na niego zdumiona. – Zrezygnowałeś z bycia łowcą demonów?!

V kiwa głową.

-To co teraz robisz?

-Kolekcjonuję magiczne artefakty i przedmioty. Rzadkie książki. Dante pomógł mi w zorganizowaniu małego punktu, w którym prowadzę coś na kształt antykwariatu.

Kręcisz głową, nie wierząc w to, co słyszysz. Bierzesz głęboki wdech, bo sporo trudu cię kosztuje wypowiedzenie tych kolejnych słów.

-Ja… nie powinnam ci wszystkiego narzucać i próbować cię kontrolować. Chciałam cię chronić, ale nie poprzez zmienianie cię. Wybacz mi. – kończysz głosem tak cichym, że nie jesteś pewna, czy w ogóle cię usłyszał. Zerkasz na niego, spodziewając się gniewu albo goryczy, ale jego twarz wyraża tylko czyste uwielbienie. Pochyla się i składa ci na ustach delikatny pocałunek, a ty nie jesteś w stanie dłużej ukrywać, jak bardzo ci tego brakowało.

Nie wiesz, jak długo trwa ta chwila bliskości. Czujesz jak budzi się w tobie nagląca potrzeba, by przypomnieć sobie jeszcze jeden aspekt waszej znajomości. Z westchnieniem odrywasz się od niego i ujmujesz za rękę.

-Hmm… masz gdzie nocować? Bo mam tu niedaleko mieszkanie…

-Nie mam. Zaprosisz mnie?

-Ale mam jeden warunek…

V rzuca ci podejrzliwe spojrzenie, ale łagodnieje na widok twojego uśmiechu.

-Musisz zgolić tę cholerną brodę. Pewnie podczas przywołania Koszmaru wyglądasz jak naćpany święty Mikołaj.

#dmc #dmc5 #dmc 5 v #request #splitting up just like that? wel.. and #and yes i think that he would look ridiculous with white beard!

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thoms-sins-blog · 5 years

Text

Dark!Peter x Tony

the fic you didn’t know you needed

“i cant do it, mr. stark. i can’t let her have you. i can’t let anyone…anyone have you. do you understand that? if i can’t have you, no one can.”

“kid…pete, please think this through–”

“oh, i have. you’re gonna come away with me for a very long time, mr. stark…’cause i want to keep thinking about what im going to do with you, and what you’re gonna do to me…i’ve been wanting it so long…”

From @snowydisco ‘s moodboard here, I loved it soo much, wanted to try this out :^P

I don’t really write but I did my best, treat me kindly!! i just wrote this out on a whim, no real smut yet but please let me know if anyone wants more!

[Just a bit of Pepper and Tony for backstory (I knoww it bores me too but it makes it so much more painful >:) ) I SWEAR TONY DOES LIKE PETER he just feels bad and its gonna take a lot for him to admit it, if smut comes he will def be into it, a manipulative and very jealous peter, also a little bit of venom mentioned for the hell of it?]

Dark!Peter x Tony! (Right may be a tad more dark than expected....)

________________________________________________________________

Peter’ masked hands were ruffling the golden locks of an unconscious Pepper, slowly stroking it and admiring his work. He slipped off his mask, detaching from the seam around his neck and over his head, letting out a sigh. His dark eyes were glittering in fascination and he had a smirk on his face, knowing he was fully in control now that he’s got them secure. He did enough to shake up Tony. Spider-man was not a killer. She was only drugged...a lot, but not enough to kill her. No, why would he do such a thing?

Not little Peter Parker. Not the weird math club kid that was easy to pick at school, the one who couldn’t keep his crushes around, his celebrity genius mentor, even looked down on him, as if he had no power at all.

Didn’t anyone know the power he possessed? The strength? Being humble started to get old for Peter, it started driving him into a rage, thinking about how he could tear this whole city down to shreds. Little Peter Parker.

The expression of Tony Stark’s disappointed face when all he did was what was right for the safety of innocent people, that moment on the top of the building after the boat incident, where his self-esteem was utterly crumbled. Mr. Tony Stark just couldn’t hold back, did everything he could to tear down Peter for his own amusement. Tony just knew he was so much better than Peter. Not anymore. Peter’s the one in control now.

Peter always looked up to Tony. He was this genius inventor, the brains of Stark Industries, the things he created that fast forwarded tech across the globe. He was so attractive, strong, smart, smooth, he could get anyone he wanted. Everything Peter wanted to be.

Over time, he had quite the collection of snippets of Tony Stark from the papers, magazines, screenshots from paparazzi online. He kept them in books under his bed, saved folders, hundreds of pictures of him arranged by time taken. He would scroll and stare at them for hours, brushing his thumb against the jaw of an ultra HD picture of Tony. He imagined the roughness of stubble, then the hairs of the longer pieces of beard he kept trimmed so nicely, the aged and no less beautiful skin around his dark chocolate eyes. It made him dizzy just by looking.

For a while, his obsession with Tony Stark kept him from the thin line between lashing out, and keeping up Peter Parker’s weak image, as well as the release of stress he got when kicking the shit out of goons on bad streets in the Bronx as Spider-Man. Being Spider-Man always made him feel confident.

On his way back home, he’d always stop on a tall bank building across from Stark tower, watching Tony, with his blonde and freckled girlfriend Pepper, dancing around with disgustingly sweet hands held. They swayed to the slow stream of music that even Peter could hear so far away. They sipped wine and talked on end, lounging. Every time she even got a peck of a kiss from Tony, Peter winced, tugging his bottom lip with a jealousy that even he denied early on.

When he was taken into the Avengers slash ‘Stark internship’, it was like his dreams came true.

It was like Peter Parker from high school didn’t exist anymore. Suddenly he was surrounded by important people, surrounded by people who needed him by their side, as allies. He was spoiled to the brim by the venture, especially the new decked out Spidey suit that he adored.

He got to see such cool things, was brought in by Mr. Stark, to check out the amazing lab he had, and understand secrets of how he brought his insane ideas to life that blew Peter’s mind. He even let him use his labs whenever he liked, having a blast at tinkering with his web shooters.

Every now and then Tony gave Peter a look when he did something right, or praising him for an idea while they worked. Peter naturally took that as a possible attraction to him. The wonder quickly spiraled Peter into violent masturbating sprees. Having sensitive spidey senses and unstable hormones tended to make everything that much more intense and hard to deal with.

It didn’t help that the expensive bathrooms at Stark tower had huge mirrors that were unavoidable, so he was stuck looking at himself when he did so. Moaning “Mr. Stark,” quietly, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he rode out into orgasm to the end of his toes.

As those times came more often and his adoration escalated, his only attraction from that point on was Tony. His vision was only him, all the time.

All the attention made him drunk with adoration for Mr. Stark. His favorite looks from him were in his garage, covered in oil and dirt, his arms and face glistening with sweat, collarbone peeking from his wife beater. It was like porn to him.

He was shaken from his staring contest with Tony when the pencil skirted and playfully formal Pepper came in, giving Tony a rundown of CEO type things that Peter didn’t really know about. She offered a soft smile and wave at Peter when she came in. He knew how much Tony loved her, and he knew what she was doing. Peter waved back, shooting a humble smile and nod at her.You fucking slut.

Over time, they started to drift apart, and that made Peter very, very happy. Peter purposefully ended her phone calls to Tony sometimes, even made it so Tony’s messages to her didn’t send.

Still, Peter kept up the persona that he supported Mr. Stark, half mentioning he hasn’t seen her around much, a wave of disappointment washing over Tony’s face. When Peter reminded him that he was here to simply keep him company, he knew that he was reeling Tony in.

Still, though, she somehow always made her way back in. Once at a company party, they were seen casually talking, then getting closer as they sipped more of their martinis, Tony whispering sweet nothings against her neck. Peter closed his fists so hard his palms bled. Karen reminded him that he was hurting himself.

Pepper just kept coming back and luring Tony in, making Peter shake with intense envy, he seemed to be knocking out bad guys faster than usual those nights. He ignored conversation with the citizens he saved, because he was just ready for the next gig.

One night, he finally snapped. This was that night.

He couldn’t even remember what happened towards this moment, he only saw red and flashes of white, and now he had Pepper webbed up to the floor of the living room in Tony Stark’s home. The same room he’d been looking in from outside all this time. She would stay unconscious for a long while.

“Peter. Peter,” Tony breathed out, his heart was feeling a bit wrong, he had difficulty breathing after witnessing what Peter just did.

Peter licked his bottom lip, giving a kiss to Pepper’s cheek as Tony would, he knew it would mess with him. He stood up, moving his hand up the stalk of a curved metal pillar with his back still turned to Tony, looking out the large window down at the city.

“Peter, kid...”

“Don’t ‘kid’ me. I’m so tired of that shit.” Peter snapped.

Tony gulped, worry racking his eyes and beads of sweat collecting at his temples. He was hard bound by webs around a chair, Peter was just too strong for him, especially now that his emotions aren’t easily swayed. He was real smart about it too, he had all the electricity cut off in the tower, the AI’s weren't able to cooperate, most likely because of Peter’s adept hands with tech. He knew he wouldn't be able to call on them. God, he was such a bright kid. He just didn’t understand how it ended up like this.

At some point, Peter changed. he wasn't always this moody, he used to be kind, humble, looked up to Tony and he knew it. He couldn't put his finger on what it was. He also didn’t understand why Pepper was brought into this.

“I just don’t get it,” Peter starts, he turns his head, down at Peppers sleeping face, dragging a padded foot down her side, arms crossed.

“I’m so much better than her,” he whispers. He whips up at Tony with dark and focused eyes, low browed and jaw set.

Tony blinks a couple of times, trying to keep up, he’s still a bit lightheaded from all the action, but locks eyes with Peter when he looks at him.

“Kid, I really don’t understand what you’re trying to get at here, but you seriously need to get your act together. What’s gotten into you?” Tony shakes his head, speaking direct but in a hurt tone. He rotates his arms a bit, trying to ignore the oncoming burns from the tightness of the bounds.

Peter shivers at his tone, sending prickles of electricity all over him. This was just a taste of how having Tony all to himself would be.

He felt full of vim and vigor, feeling a smirk coming on but he pushes it down, making his way slowly over to Tony, his hands finding each other behind his back.

“Mr. Stark...I’m sorry...” Peter says weakly, his deeper voice cracks at the top in a small whine, he pulls his eyes from the floor up in a doe-like shy attitude that completely opposed the dark one from earlier, planting one foot in front of another.

Tony’s eyes scrunch in disbelief, noticing a string of black veins lining the side of Peter’s neck, pulsating like a virus. What is that?

“Mr. Stark,” he says again.

Tony inhales at the sound of it, his mouth twitches knowing its just a mask hiding something awful.

Peter bites the inside of his cheek, trying not to smile. He knows it’s getting to him.

“Mr. Stark, I just...” Peter lets out a sigh, planting himself on one of Tony’s thighs, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, knowing he can’t do anything about it.

He can’t resist rubbing his splayed hands around the bulk of him, his neck and chest, not able to hold back the heat that rattles his body straight down to his cock. All from simply touching him. He’s waited to be able to do this for so long.

“I just, I can’t do it, Mr. Stark.” That again. Tony turns away, looking down at Pepper with a pained expression.

Tony’s starting to get it now, he knows he’s not going anywhere. Really, he’s in such shock it’s hard to find words. Peter leans closer into his neck, inhaling the sharp scent of his cologne and sweat, drawing a webbed finger around his other ear.

“I can’t let her have you, I cant let anyone...anyone, have you. You understand that, don’t you? Yeah?” He can feel Tony shivering, silent. He can’t take this.

Peter brushes his lips against his ear, slapping a strong hold around the back of his neck.

If I can’t have you...no one can.”

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Again, please let me know if you want more! i could make this into a chapter like thing! I just wanted to try it out >:P

-Thom

#This was soooo fun #starker #starker fic #starker drabble #dark!peter x tony #dark!peter parker x tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #tony stark/peter parker

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lalainajanes · 5 years

Note

Hi! idk if you're still taking prompts but can you do one where klaus and caroline are coworker's who are always getting into heated screaming matches during team meetings and everyone who works with them is just used to it, but the new girl is like wtf??? and then later finds out that they're actually married and don't hate each other?? thanks!! your writing gives me life

Obviously I could not resist fluff day! For Step Two of @klarolineshippersclub 12KCXmas event!

With Friends Like These

The office is deserted – its 7 PM on a Friday – so Caroline’sstartled by the sound she hears coming from the hall. It’s a staccato series oftaps. Heels, eating up the distance quickly, and she rolls her chair back,grabbing her phone from the corner of the desk just in case someone’s bleeding.

She’s about to go and see what’s happening, when Kat barrelsin. Her eyes are wide with what Caroline suspects is glee, her hair a wildwindblown mass of curls. Her jackets only half buttoned and she tosses asideher purse, rushing towards Caroline. “You will not believe what I just heard!”

Caroline lets herself be shaken, taking another confusedlook at Kat’s dishevelment. “Did you run from the bar? Thought you were goingto try to seduce the new guy.”

Katherine looks offended. “Try? Please. Mason’s a sure bet.He’ll keep until next week.”

“Wow,” Caroline drawls. “Something came up that’s kept youfrom guaranteed sex? Must be big.”

Katherine lets go of her, tossing her hair over her shoulderand letting out an irritated huff. “Yeah, yeah, mock me. We don’t all get to scheduleregular freaky married sex.”

It takes a fair amount of willpower not to tear her eyesaway and Caroline lifts her chin stubbornly. Katherine might know far too many details about her and Klaus’ sex life butthat was only because Caroline gets a little over share-y when tequila’sinvolved in a girl’s night out. Klaus is shameless enough not to care, evenwhen Kat’s comments get overly pointed. If anything, he leans into it, lets hishands linger and does his best to make Caroline blush. Caroline is working onbuilding up the same aplomb in the face of Kat’s suggestive smirks and taunts.

“You seem to do just fine in the freaky sex department,” shesnipes back.

Katherine grins, slow and very pleased with herself. “Ireally do.”

Caroline groans, walking over to the couch that lines onewall of her office. “I do not want to have this conversation with you.”

Her dry spell is hours away from ending and she’s really looking forward to it.

Klaus has been gone for ten days, dealing with inspectionsfor the new hotel the company is opening in London. Caroline’s team is busy puttingtogether room concepts so she hadn’t been able to justify taking the time awayto accompany him.

She likes phone sex as much as the next girl whose husbandhas a hot accent but it got old after a few days. She misses having a warm bodyto roll into at night; the way he wakes he scrapes his morning beard againsther shoulder when she grumbles about the alarm.

“Someone’s cranky!” Katherine sings. She circles Caroline’sdesk, helping herself to the bourbon that’s stashed in the lowest drawer. “Mynews might not help you.”

Oh joy.

Caroline slouches low, letting her legs flop ratherungracefully, “And yet, you rushed all the way back here to tell me about it?”

“It’s just too hilarious. I couldn’t not.”

Katherine’s sense of humor is a weird thing, an acquiredtaste, so Caroline braces herself. “Alright, hit me.”

“Uh uh. Let me set the scene.”

“And people say I’m dramatic.”

Kat ignores the complaint, lifting the bottle high. “There Iam, in the ladies room…”

“Taking off your panties so you could stuff them in Mason’spocket?”

“Please. Like you’ve never used that move.”

Caroline could honestly say she hadn’t (Klaus likes toremove her lingerie himself) but Katherine’s already continuing her tale. Sheperches on the edge of Caroline’s desk, wiggling in an effort to getcomfortable.

So it’s not going to be a short story. Caroline presses herlips together, holding in a sigh, glancing at the clock. She’s supposed to grabKlaus from the airport at eleven and she’d planned go home and change intosomething easier to remove beforehand. Hopefully Katherine can resist the urgeto embellish too extensively.

“I’m minding my own business, about to flush, when I hear afamiliar name.”

“Yours?”

“Nope, yours. Preceded and followed by some very colorfuldescriptors.” She pauses expectantly, eagerly watching for Caroline’s reaction.

Only to be disappointed when Caroline shrugs, emitting onlya dismissive, “Somehow I’ll survive.” The last time she’d really been overlyconcerned with other people liking her she’d owned pom poms.

Katherine, however, isn’t finished.

“Really? Even when I tell you that our little bathroomgossiper had very complimentary things to say about your hubs?”

Her hands curl into the couch’s cushions, a teeny flare ofjealousy flaring bright.

She’s an only child and she gets a little possessive, okay?Klaus is into it. He’s also no stranger to getting growly and shooting murdereyes and staking a claim and, since he’s got a bajillion siblings, he doesn’t evenhave the same justification for being bad at sharing.

Those incidents usually result in an immediate need forprivacy (or the reasonable facsimile found behind a locked office door or thebackseat of a car). The next day they’ll sleep in, there will be hickies on herthighs and scratches on his back, and they’ll eat dessert for breakfast.

Honestly, Caroline kind of loves that particular ritual,knows very well that Klaus does too.

“Not everyone thinks Klaus is awful,” Caroline points out.

“Because most people are dumb and lack my excellent taste.”

Caroline eyes the bottle, seriously considering chugging abit and just calling a cab when it’s time to collect Klaus. She really doesn’twant to be drunk for their reunion but, if Kat doesn’t hurry up and get to apoint, it might be her best option. “I love you so I’m going to ignore the factthat you kinda just called me dumb.”

Katherine scoffs, “You’re not dumb, just dickmatized.”

It’s probably a good thing she’s not drinking because shewould have choked. Caroline’s laugh sputters out, grows in volume, and she hasto cover her mouth when it becomes hard to control herself. Her eyes water alittle as she finally manages to stop giggling, “Yeah, I’m totally tellingKlaus that you said that. He’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Literally the only nice thing I’ll ever say about him isthat you’re far more bearable and less uptight than you used to be. I creditthe regular orgasms.”

She and Katherine had been hired at about the same time and,in the beginning, hadn’t gotten along overly well. Kat now headed The MikaelsonGroup’s marketing team, was a wizard at luring in celebs and influencers andmaking their hotels a coveted destination. Caroline had worked her way up torun a design team. It’s how she’d met Klaus (and they’d butted heads too in theearly days) coordinating with him and his architect minions.

“I, too, am a big fan,” Caroline admits. “Though, honestly,you should really give cuddling a try. Totally relaxing.”

“Ew, pass.”

It’s an argument they’ve had before.

“Anyway,” Katherine says, so loudly that Carolineinstinctively glances towards the door. “Back to my story. Greta Martin thinksyou should stop being a total bitch to Klaus in meetings. Oh, and she’s alsoplanning on banging him.”

Caroline sits up, now outraged. “I am not…”

Katherine cuts her off, “You have been a little snippy thisweek.”

Only because Klaus has been baiting her.

“That’s just how we are. He pokes, I prod. He’s annoyinglysmug, all ‘oh, aren’t I the cleverest?’ and I like to knock him down.”

“Verbal foreplay is your thing,” Katherine says, adding aknowing nod.

She throws her hands up, collapsing back again. “Exactly! Mymarriage is freaking great and if that…”

Again, she doesn’t get to work up to a proper rant. Superannoying.

“That’s the best part!” Katherine crows. “She has no ideayou and Klaus are married! Talk about dumb people.”

Well, that’s mollifying. Slightly. Caroline will just haveto make things clear. Plans begin to form. She discards the racier ones (unlessGreta proves to be unwilling to take a hint). She twists her wedding bandabsently, “How has she not noted the rings?”

“Forget the rings. How she hasn’t noted Klaus’ doofybesotted face whenever you walk into a room is the bigger issue. Maybe sheneeds glasses?”

Maybe Caroline will get her assistant to shoot Greta anemail detailing the company’s excellent insurance coverage on Monday.

She hears the bottle clink and she shakes off her mentallists, shooting Katherine a glare. “You know, it would have been easy for youto clear up her misconceptions in that bathroom.”

Kat’s brows rise and she shoots Caroline a look like she’ssaid something totally insane. “And deprive myself of prime workplace drama?Please. You know how bored I get on Wednesdays when I have to sit in those dumblegal meetings.”

Caroline’s displeasure must read on her face because Kattosses her a bright smile, leaning forward and offering the bottle. Her toneturns placating, “Oh, relax, Cupcake. It’s harmless. You’ll probably forget allabout this little snafu over the weekend.”

Caroline’s does have big plans.

“Maybe,” she allows grudgingly. She stands, straighteningher pencil skirt. “Speaking of, I should go home and make myself pretty.”

“You’re going to do that gross airport make out thing, aren’tyou?”

Caroline smiles, not trying to hide the slightly mockingedge to it. “Usually, yeah. But Elijah’s not a guy who tolerates a scene.”

She relishes the freezing of Katherine’s body, the wideningof her dark eyes. Her hand flexes, looking for the bottle that had recentlybeen clutched there.

Caroline withholds it, setting it down and out of reach.

She’s not entirely sure what had gone down at the Christmasparty last year (Katherine was way better at keeping secrets no matter how muchliquor was applied) but she knows Kat’s red lip had been rubbed off and Elijah’svest had been buttoned incorrectly when she and Klaus had met the odd couple atthe elevator bank.

Kat had twitched a little at the mention of Elijah’s nameever since.

She adopts her sweetest expression, “Maybe the legalmeetings will be more exciting when Elijah’s leading them in person, hmm?”

Katherine’s mouth opens. Closes. She wiggles her toes to gether heels back in place before hopping off the desk. “I need to…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, stalking out of the office.Caroline watches her go, both satisfied and bursting with curiosity. A speechlessKatherine Pierce? Caroline never thought she’d see the day.

She makes a mental note to tell Klaus, to wheedle until heagrees to pump Elijah for info. She didn’t often get bored at work, not whenshe could just pop into Klaus’ office and poke around in his projects. But hehad another trip on his calendar next month.

She won’t turn down a little in office entertainment whilehe’s gone.

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #12KCXMAS #Klaroline Shippers Club #Anonymous

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whentommymetalfie · 5 years

Text

To live a life -chapter seven

Chapter one//Chapter two//Chapter three//

Chapter four//Chapter five//Chapter six//

A/N: well here it is, finally. The wrap up. I really hope you’ll enjoy it!

Chapter summary: Tommy comes to terms with the lasting repercussions of his injury.

And an epilogue set around six months after the accident.

Warnings: descriptions of brain injury

Pairing: Tommy/Alfie

Wordcount: 6500

Things do get better.

There’s that saying, right -it’s always darkest before the dawn- and Alfie of course realises it’s a bullshit cliché, but he can sort of understand it now.

Because things do get better.

At least for a while.

A few days pass after the fight and Tommy’s subsequent barefoot walk through the storm, and he obediently stays in bed to rest his torn up feet. And sleep. Thankfully, he doesn’t catch pneumonia or something of the sort, which Alfie somehow expects. But no, apparently God deems that Tommy’s got enough on his plate already, and all he gets is sore feet and a light cough that’s bound to go away with a few good days' rest.

Alfie thinks he might be imagining it, but he seems more at peace with the bedrest this time, too. Perhaps it’s because he knows for sure that it’ll end soon, can see the all the injuries heal up.

Charlie keeps Tommy company; builds forts at the foot of the bed with pillows, or brings all his toy cars and spreads them out on the duvet. He hasn’t fully grasped the use of the cars yet, and treats them more like pets than anything else. Sure, he can drive them along Tommy’s leg while mimicking motor sounds, but will just as soon tuck them in under the blankets next to him. Tommy seems happy to indulge him, and listens intently when Charlie tells him and the cars bedtime stories.

And Alfie feels more at peace than he has in months.

But after five days of this, which is longer than Alfie expected, Tommy becomes restless.

“Are you going to the office today?”

Alfie looks up from his shirt buttons to Tommy, who’s sat on the bed with the teacup he brought him.

“Figured I’d swing by. Make sure all the buildings are still standing and all that. But I’ll stay home if you want some company.”

“I thought- thought I’d come with you. For a while,” Tommy says, adding with an uncharacteristic note of hesitance, “If you want me to.”

Alfie smiles. “Of course. How’re your feet, then? Hold up for walking?”

“They’re fine.” Tommy pulls a foot out from under the duvet and holds it up. “See?”

Something about the almost childish eagerness makes Alfie’s chest absolutely ache.

Seating himself on the edge of the bed, he takes the ankle and presses a kiss against it. “Fine then. Guess you’d better get dressed. Or I might change my mind and just stay here in bed with you.”

Tommy is out of the bed before he can even finish the sentence.

“So, how do you want to do this?” Alfie turns to Tommy as he parks the car on the stable yard. “Want me to look intimidating and fend people off, eh? I can do a bit of that. Or do you feel up for talking?”

“Think it’ll be fine,” Tommy says, lights a cigarette and climbs out of the car. Alfie follows suit. “I can keep up with you now. Even when you’re at your most incoherent.” He quirks an eyebrow at him over the hood of the car. “Which is always.”

Alfie makes a noise of feigned offence, secretly reveling in falling into the familiar banter as they make their way towards the office.

Tommy does seem more relaxed this time, he notes. More grounded. And they’re in luck, because everyone is too caught up to drag either of them into some long conversation, and interactions are limited to just quick greetings. So they make it to the office unscathed. Alfie unlocks and opens the door, holding it up for Tommy.

“After you, dearest.”

Rolling his eyes, Tommy walks past him and into the office. He stops in the middle of the room, eyebrows furrowing as he takes in his surroundings.

It’s not until then Alfie remembers the whole… trashing every object in the office debacle.

“Alright… either my memory has completely stopped working, or something is different in here.” Tommy looks inquiringly at Alfie, before walking up to his own desk and studying the newly framed pictures. The new table lamp. The replaced chair.

“Yeah, well, there- there was a bit of an incident, wasn’t there? Yeah. Nothing major,” Alfie mutters as he hangs his coat up. He glances at the photos. “It’s a shame we don’t have any paintings of you. Not only a shame, reckon it’s some sort of crime, really, not having your face depicted on anything but blurry photographs. They don’t do you justice-“

“Don’t change the subject. What happened to our office?” Tommy asks, seeming rather amused.

“I happened to it, alright,” Alfie grunts. Unwilling to recall that incident. “Or, this whole fucking thing happened to it.” He runs his fingers through his beard, avoiding to look at Tommy and going to sit at his desk instead. “It was nothing-“ He hopes that waving a hand will further illustrate the point. “Just, you know that the wiring doesn’t always connect up here. And you weren’t there to keep it in order.”

He glances up at Tommy, who is holding one of the photographs in his hands. “No,” he says, putting it back down. “I wasn’t.”

Tommy walks around Alfie’s desk and leans against the edge of it, studying the new ashtray.

“I forget sometimes. That- that I was in the hospital for so long. That you had to deal with all of this on your own.”

Alfie shrugs. “Don’t concern yourself with that, love. Here now, ain’t ya’? Safe and sound. All that matters.”

Nodding slowly, Tommy runs a finger along the edge of the ashtray.

“You were there a lot. At the hospital”

It’s a statement, rather than a question.

“Yeah well- wasn’t anywhere else I wanted to be, was there?” Alfie pauses. “Do you remember anything? Before you woke up? Or before you could… Yeah, before you realised where you were?”

They haven’t spoken about this topic. Hasn’t been much time for that, has it? No, of course there’s been time. But Alfie has spent all of it trying to focus on the here and now. Think forward. Carefully avoid remembering the weeks in the hospital.

Tommy looks out the window. Quiet.

When he eventually answers, it’s in a quiet sort of voice. Distant, as he continues looking at the blue sky.

“It was mostly just… this nothingness. Not unpleasant, really, just like… being asleep,” he says. “But then sometimes it was more like- like being under water. Maybe that’s when I began waking up. And every now and then I’d be a little closer to the surface.” Tommy turns his eyes to Alfie, then. Reaches out and takes his hand where it rests on the desk. Runs his thumb along the knuckles.

“I could hear you talking sometimes. Or feel that you were holding my hand. Don’t know if I fully… understood what it meant right then. But I knew you were there. It helped.”

Alfie lets the following silence linger.

Although he spent the first years after the war filling every second with noise, unable to handle the silence, he’s found himself not minding it all that much since Tommy came into his life. Learnt to appreciate it even.

Tommy holds his hand, running his thumb over the wedding band and then along the knuckles again. Alfie squeezes his hand. Their eyes meet. The barest hint of a smile crosses Tommy’s face.

Then, he goes to open the window and light another cigarette.

Alfie opens a ledger that has been left on his desk, sighing when he stares down at the numbers filling the pages. May has apparently decided that now would be a good time for him to catch up on all the paperwork he’s been neglecting for the past… well, months, really.

“Why didn’t you let me hire a fucking accountant?” he grumbles and glares down at the papers.

“And miss out on the infinite joy that is book-keeping?”

Blinking in surprise, Alfie turns to look at Tommy who blows out a cloud of smoke into the warm summer air before glancing over his shoulder at him, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Better get to it.”

The little exchange leaves his chest feeling all light and warm, so what does it matter that the numbers on the pages don’t seem to fucking add up when he turns his attention back to them?

Tommy is well into his second cigarette when Alfie groans and slumps back in his chair, rubbing his temples.

“Numbers are a social construct that I from now on fucking refuse to associate with.”

He feels the warmth of Tommy’s body against his arm, and a waft of cigarette smoke seeps into his nostrils as he leans down slightly over the desk.

“It’s supposed to say 325 over there.”

Alfie straightens up as Tommy grabs the pencil, crosses over a sum and writes in a new one. He silently watches him do the same with two others, before putting down the pencil again and blinking down at the papers, seemingly just as surprised as Alfie.

Then he smiles. “Well, I can barely string a sentence together, but I can still count apparently.” He picks up the ledger, eyes still fastened on the pages with a new glint under the blue surface.

“I’ll see if I can sort it out,” he says and makes a move to walk to his own desk.

Alfie pulls him down onto his lap, planting a kiss on his mouth before Tommy can protest.

“Oh there’s no need to be all the way over there, is there, sweetheart?” he grins. “Isn’t this a perfectly good desk, eh? And a much more comfortable seat, if I do say so myself.

“So you’re proposing I just do all my work while sitting on your lap from now on?” Tommy snorts, but stays right where he is.

“Your words not min, love.”

Alfie kisses him again, and when he fumbles to persuade Tommy to let go of the ledger, Tommy quite willingly slips it back onto the desk and buries his hands in his hair instead.

Deepening the kiss, Alfie tugs him a little closer, and Tommy sighs into his mouth, virtually melting against him.

It’s been a long time since he kissed Tommy like this. Weeks probably. Fuck, could be months, even. Maybe not a single time after the accident. Because all he’s though of is how fragile Tommy has felt in his arms, how everything seemed to hurt him. But those thoughts are far from his mind now.

Tommy is breathless when they finally break the kiss, lips swollen and cheeks flushed as he looks at Alfie through his lashes.

“I’ve missed this.”

Humming and pressing a more chaste kiss against his lips, Alfie trails his fingers down his side. “Me too, love. Gotten spoiled, haven’t I? With all these years of having you within arm’s reach at all times.”

Tommy rests his forehead against Alfie’s. “Well, I’m here now. Suppose we have to make up for lost time.”

Alfie kisses him again.

...

That same night, Tommy takes out a book in the bedroom for the first time since the accident. Alfie tries not to make a big deal out of it, but he can’t help asking, none the less.

“How’s it coming along? The reading.”

“It’s getting better,” Tommy says, holding the book a little closer. “Bit more slowly than I’d like. But it is something.”

Smiling to himself, Alfie picks up his own book and begins to read, still keeping most of his focus on Tommy. That he’s read this particular book upwards of a hundred times already helps.

Tommy’s eyes travel slowly across the pages, his forehead creasing as he focuses on the letters. Trying not to be obvious about his keen interest in this, Alfie continues reading. He still keeps an eye on Tommy though. He’s on that same page for quite a while. Bites his lip and leans down over the book.

Finally, Tommy straightens up a bit. Chews at his bottom lip for a moment. Then he points at a word and holds up the book for Alfie to see.

“What does it say here?”

“Epiphany,” Alfie answers with feigned casualty, all while his heart is beating double its usual rate in his chest out of pure joy.

Tommy nods and continues reading. As the minutes pass, he slowly creeps closer to Alfie: Leans in against his side. Rests his head on his shoulder. Lets out a pleased sigh when Alfie wraps an arm around him to hold him.

He asks about a few more words, and Alfie sees that same hesitation each time. Sees how much of an effort every question takes.

But he does asks.

…

It becomes routine after that. Going to the office. Staying a bit longer each day. Picking up that same book each night. Alfie still takes out his own book too, but mostly uses it to cover up the way he intently watches Tommy make progress in his own.

Eventually, Tommy doesn’t have to ask out loud about anymore when he’s unsure about a word, but will just point at it and Alfie instinctively tells him what it says. Sometimes, if it’s been a bad day, Alfie reads instead, running his finger along the words on the page to let Tommy follow along in the text.

The improvement is slow. But there is an improvement.

One night, Tommy has just drifted off against his shoulder with the book hanging from a slack grip. He’s almost finished the chapter this time.

And Alfie realises he hasn’t had to ask about a single word today.

...

“--- You’re just afraid of taking that tooth out,” Lasse exclaims. “Let me tie a string around it and it’ll be over and done with.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Olle mutters and clutches his cheek.”

Alfie stops outside of Charlie’s room to listen to the voices.

“Papa, why do tooths fall out?”

“Because you have other teeth underneath that want to get out.”

“Why?”

Silence.

“Know what, love, I’m not sure. But maybe we can find someone to ask.”

Alfie lingers there in the hallway, listening to the exchange with a fond smile on his face and forgetting all about whatever he was doing just a minute ago. He opens the door enough to peek into the dimly lit room to see his husband and son curled up together on the bed. Charlie is on Tommy’s lap, with Horse’s paw firmly clutched in one hand and the other holding onto the front of Tommy’s shirt. He tugs at that now.

“And new tooths will be there always?”

“Sure. As long as we take care of them,” Tommy answers and kisses the top of his head.

As long as you don’t get them pulled out by a rival gang leader in some dark alley…

Apparently sensing his presence by now, Tommy glances up. “Are you coming in, or do you just plan on standing in the doorway?” “Nah, got bread in the oven that needs tending to,” Alfie says. “Always something that needs doing, innit? The job of a hardworking husband is never done, see. A round the clock work, providing for you two. Which I’m more than happy to do, of course.”

Tommy shakes his head and smiles down at the book. “Just go. We’re eternally grateful for your loving care.”

“We are!” Charlie chimes in.

Alfie goes downstairs to fulfill said duties, starting off by checking on the bread, before going about washing up the last of the dishes from dinner.

Some time later, Cyril comes lumbering into the kitchen, seating himself next to Alfie to watch him take the bread out of the oven. Most likely hoping for something to fall on the floor.

It’s about then Tommy comes downstairs too, going straight for the kitchen door without a word.

Mildly surprised, Alfie goes after him, out into the cooling air of the late spring evening.

“Something on your mind, love?”

Tommy exhales a cloud of smoke and watches as it rises towards the sky. It dissipates in the light breeze, turning into small tendrils that finally disappear completely. Two blackbirds are occupying themselves with traversing the lawn in search of worms. One of them looks up. Cocks its head at Alfie. Oddly intelligent looking, right then. It chirps, the bright sound echoing in the quiet garden.

“I still get headaches,” Tommy says, finally. “ Every fucking night. It’s not getting better.”

Alfie shouldn’t feel this disappointed –discouraged, dejected?. He really shouldn’t. Things have been going far too smoothly, haven’t they? He should’ve known better. Not gotten his hopes up. He attempts to look at ease when he answers.

“Something to talk to the doctor about at the checkup tomorrow, innit? ” his tongue feels oddly… numb in his mouth. Too big for it. “Good for him to have at least something to work with. That’s what we’re paying him for, right? To fix things. Not just…” he’s forgotten to breathe throughout that whole sentence, and the words take that last bit of air and he ends up trailing off, filling his lunges rather than finishing the train of thought.

Putting the cigarette between his lips again, Tommy closes his eyes and fills his lungs with more smoke. It comes out as a cloud together with the words.

“Thought it’d sort itself out, when… the rest got better.” He rubs the bridge of his nose. “It’s just impossible not to think about it, that something’s broken in there. Might be as good as it’ll ever get, this.” He blinks rapidly a few times, letting out a mirthless laugh as he stubs out the cigarette. “Maybe I should be grateful. Learn to live with it.”

Alfie wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him in against his side. Tommy’s head comes to rest on his shoulder.

The two blackbirds have taken to the branches of the oak tree now. Hidden among the leaves and gone from sight, but the chirping still fills the garden.

Alfie closes his eyes and listens to it.

...

Alfie and the doctor -whose name he’s never bothered to learn despite having more frequent contact with him than any person should realistically have these past few months- well, they have developed this sort of mutual understanding. He doesn’t question it when it’s always Alfie calling to ask about Tommy’s health: if he can start riding soon, for how long he can read each day... Alfie, in turn, does his best to be civil and not fucking punch him in the face. So he gets to sit in during the examination the next day, under the condition that he stays quiet -something Tommy makes very clear on their way there.

The doctor asks questions. Shines a light into Tommy’s eyes. Asks more questions. Has him look at a board full of letters. More questions. How exactly he’s supposed to say anything about the state of Tommy’s head just from this, Alfie’s got no fucking idea. But he’s not a doctor, is he?

“And how is your speech?” The doctor glances up at Tommy from his board.

“It’s fine. Most of the time.”

“And your memory?”

“It’s getting better. I still… get these gaps sometimes. But it’s better.”

The doctor hums and writes this down.

“And you say the headache gets progressively worse throughout the day.”

Tommy nods.

“Do you experience any of the other repercussions on a daily basis? Loss of motor skills and so on?”

“Comes and goes. Not enough to be a problem.”

God, how many fucking question can there be?

There’s a skeleton propped in the corner of the room, with empty eye sockets and a grinning mouth. Alfie glares at it. Tries to ignore how hard his heart is beating in his chest as he anticipates the doctor’s verdict. Waits for him to deliver the bad news.

Maybe Tommy is going to die after all? Maybe there’s still something broken in there, just held together by a few tendrils of nerves, and it could break completely at any moment?

Or will he just have to live with pain for the rest of his life- and how the fuck is he supposed to survive that?

What kind of life would that be?

Tommy’s hand suddenly brushes over his, just lightly, and Alfie discovers he’s been clenching both of them hard enough to make the knuckles whiten.

He tries to relax his muscles without much success.

There are so many tests and questions that eventually even he becomes dizzy, and he can’t even imagine what Tommy must be feeling then.

Then, the doctor looks up from his clipboard, calm as ever.

“Well, mister Shelby as far as I can see, this problem should be solved by a pair of spectacles.”

Alfie straightens up a bit.

Tommy blinks in confusion. “What?”

“Well, your sight’s a bit impaired. Not by much. But enough to put unnecessary strain on the-“

“No, but- I would’ve noticed that,” Tommy cuts him off.

“Not necessarily,” the doctor replies calmly. “Severe head trauma does strange things to our perception of things. Coupled with your lost reading abilities, it’s not strange at all that you haven’t noticed.”

Alfie can’t really… grasp this… Could it really be that fucking simple? It seems a bit too good to be true… And if this experience has taught him anything, it’s that nothing’s ever simple.

The doctor is still talking, and he tries to pay attention.

“I will book you in for a full ocular examination and-“

Or is it that fucking simple?

“But of course it’s important that you take care of yourself, none the less. You’re still on the mend. Minimize stress, and overwhelming situations. No reading until- Mister Solomons, are you listening?”

Alfie blinks. The doctor is giving him a sharp look over the edge of his glasses that somehow makes him feel like a school boy. “Yeah, yeah, sure.”

“I was just saying how it’s of utmost importance that Thomas takes care of himself,” the doctor says sternly. “But if there’s one thing these past months have taught me, it’s that I really should be telling you. That seems to be the only way of making sure my recommendations are actually followed.”

“Of course, yeah, I’ll take good care of him,” Alfie promises, trying to catch Tommy’s eye. But Tommy is staring vacantly down at the floor, silent.

The doctor seems satisfied with this, telling Alfie he’ll be in touch shortly, and then they’re suddenly shaking hands and saying goodbye.

The silence continues during the car ride home.

An odd numbness has settled in Alfie’s chest. He should be happy, right? Everything is okay.

Then why does he feel so fucking empty?

“This is good news, innit?” he eventually says, hoping that saying it out loud will make the words sink in properly.

Tommy nods slowly.

Something happens to his breathing. It slows down, becomes deeper. Raspy. He stares at the road ahead, the vacant look in his eyes washing all signs of awareness from his face.

“Tommy?” Alfie slows down and reaches over to place a hand on his thigh. Tommy flinches.

“Stop the car.”

Alfie drives the car to the side of the road, Tommy climbs out and slumps down over a fence, head hanging and arms shaking as they rest on the wooden boards. Following as quick as he can, Alfie comes to stand next to him, resting a hand on his back.

“Tommy, love, you alright?”

Still shaking, Tommy buries his fingers in his hair. Gasps for breaths. Hides his face from view. Despite having witnessed similar things many times before, Alfie fights not to start shaking him in hopes of snapping him out of it.

When small, muffled sounds begin escaping Tommy’s lips, Alfie gently guides his face upwards. Tears are seeping down her cheeks. But he’s smiling.

“It’s- it’s nothing. I’ve been so fucking worried.. and it’s nothing.” Tommy laughs, wiping away the tears with the heel of his hand. “Just need a pair of fucking glasses.”

That’s when Alfie finally realises why he’s feeling so odd; because that knot of worry that’s been tied around his insides for so long is gone. And he’s completely forgotten what it feels like, not having it there. How it feels to actually breathe, feel something fully and not have that worry lacing every other emotion.

He wraps both arms around Tommy’s waist and lifts him off his feet, hugging him tightly and burying his face in the crook of his neck. Laughs until he's out of air, because the feeling bubbling in his chest needs to find an outlet.

“It’s okay, Alfie. Everything will be okay.”

Sure it is. That’s what Alfie’s been saying all along, right? He should say it again, because Tommy seems to be crying, still. Harder now. Convulsively.

It takes for Tommy to start hushing him softly and card his fingers through his hair for Alfie to realise it’s him making those sounds, that at some point, the laughter has turned into sobs.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here.”

Alfie straightens up, just enough to lean his forehead against Tommy’s, hands coming to cup his cheeks.

“I know, love,” he whispers. “I know.”

Epilogue

“I’m gonna live in hay.”

Charlie swings his arm back and forth as they walk towards the stables. Alfie swings his along, occasionally raising it enough to lift Charlie off his feet, making him squeal with laughter.

He chuckles, looking down at Charlie. “Really? Live, eh?”

“Yes. You and papa too. Edi and Cyril. And Arfer and-” Charlie lists the entire extended family.

“Well your father would probably like to do that. Not in the hay perhaps, but in the stables. Isn’t it enough you get to be in it every once in a while? Think you’d get a little bored eventually.”

“Never ever,” Charlie says and shakes his head. Alfie would bet good money on having waited well over four months for the hay to finally be brought indoors being influential on this certainty. He’s equally sure that come the end of September, Charlie will have lost interest in the hayloft. Until next summer. But until then, he can look forward to a few weeks when all that’s on the agenda is activities involving hay. God help them when one of the Shelby’s let it slip that they used to build tunnels in the hay at Charlie’s yard when they were little. He distinctly remembers John telling him of how Tommy had fallen asleep in one of the tunnels and they very nearly didn’t find him…

“But how am I supposed to cook? Or should we eat hay, like the horses?”

“No,” Charlie giggles. “You’re being silly.”

They pass one of the pastures, and Charlie looks intently at the horses grazing in the distance.

Then he tugs at Alfie’s hand.

“When can I ride the big horses?”

“Well, when you’re tall enough to actually get up on one, how does that sound?”

“But I’m tall!” Charlie insists and gets up on his tiptoes for increased effect. “Almost as tall as papa.”

Alfie chuckles, “That’s not saying a lot, love.”

“Almost as tall as uncle Finn!” Charlie walks on his tiptoes for a little bit. Then he catches sight of May, leading Astrades across the stable yard and he pulls at Alfie’s hand to make him walk faster. May sees them and stands there waiting as Charlie more or less drags Alfie across the yard.

“Morning Charlie,” May smiles. “Morning!” Charlie looks up at the horse with shining eyes. “Can I please pet the horse, please?”

“Of course. It’s a little bit your horse, isn’t it?”

Alfie lifts Charlie up into his arms to allow him to pet the horse. That ought to keep him occupied for a bit, so he turns his attention to May

“Where’s Tommy then? Hiding out in the office, is he, despite the weather? Would be just like him.”

May’s gaze flickers a little and she clears her throat. “Not really.” A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth as she nods towards one of the pastures. The largest one, where they train the race horses.

Alfie has decidedly had enough heart stopping moments to last a lifetime already. For fucks sake, he’s getting on in age, can’t be constantly experiencing these little miniature heart attacks…

A black horse that he would recognize anywhere is absolutely flying over the grass at the far edge of the enclosure.

“Bloody hell.”

“Bloody hell!” Charlie mimics enthusiastically, turning his attention away from the horse and towards the enclosure, eyes growing as big as saucers as he tugs at Alfie’s beard. “Look, papa is riding!”

“Sure is,” Alfie grumbles, his forehead already setting into a deep frown. He gives May a look. “Thought we’d finally agreed upon selling that fu- that horse?” Or shooting it…“Or… you know, at least not having Tommy ride it?”

And he was also pretty sure that when Tommy said he’d been riding a bit for the past month, thiswas not what he meant.

“Tommy insisted we keep him,” May says. “And he’s a completely different horse now you wouldn’t believe-“ her eyes light up, the way Tommy’s always does when he talks about horses, but when she sees Alfie’s frown, she cuts herself off and turns to Charlie. “Know what sweetie, how about you come with me and brush Astrades mane?” May asks and ruffles Charlie’s hair. “Think your fathers need to talk a little. And then we can go take a look at the hayloft.”

She gives Alfie a questioning look, to which he responds with a nod. Always eager to be near one of the horses, Charlie happily takes May by the hand and follows her into the stables. Cyril, who’s trailed silently by their side, goes to sleep by the stable wall, on his favourite tuft of grass. So that leaves Alfie to go down towards the pasture.

Sometimes he forgets how fast the horses are. Sure he’s seen more races than he can count over the years, but it’s different when it’s Tommy up on one of them, rather than one of their jockeys. He’s set on being pissed off -worry tends to do that to him. But when he reaches the fence and watches Tommy ride Azra down the length of the far edge of the field… All the fragility that plagued his every motion those first months is washed away when he’s up on that horse. Now he just looks strong. And so fucking happy. When he sees that, it’s hard to stay angry.

Alfie reluctantly has to admit that they were right, May and Tommy: it’s a fine horse.

Not that he’s about to let Tommy know, of course.

When Tommy sees him, he easily slows Azra to a trot. As he comes closer, Alfie can’t quite keep the frown in place. Hair windswept and cheeks flushed from the ride, Tommy makes for quite the sight. Then he smiles at him –one of those smiles that light up an entire room. And any plans Alfie might have had of being truly disapproving of this little stunt seem entirely unimportant.

Alfie waits until he’s close enough before he speaks. No yelling around that fucking horse…

“Now, when you said riding- Tommy, my dove, I just sort of presumed you meant some light trotting. There’s a bit of a difference between that and fucking… dashing around at break neck speed, wouldn’t you say?”

Tommy laughs. Fucking laughs. This bright, happy, sound that bubbles up from the pit of his stomach.

“Oh that was nothing. You should see him up on the track…” he nods towards the training course.

“Should I, now? Or will that just bring me even closer to an early grave?” Alfie grumbles.

“Stop sulking and give me a hand,” Tommy chuckles and beckons him closer. “Just in case I swoon a little.”

Alfie complies of course, heaving himself over the fence and approaching the horse slowly, hoping he doesn’t exude some sort of nervous energy. When he’s close enough, Tommy swings a leg over the saddle and slides off the horse, Alfie’s hands coming up around his waist to steady him. Just in case. But Tommy lands smoothly on the ground. Alfie casts a suspicious glance at Azra, who just blinks calmly, before occupying himself with a grass tuft.

“I have two complaints, alright?” Alfie states. “Just two of them, and that’s generous of me, mind you. One, the speed. Two, this fucking horse.” He tries to sound firm, willing to turn this into a fight if he has too. But Tommy just smiles.

“Well then I have two things to say to you, One, I’ve ridden faster on a trafficked Birmingham street-“ Well that’s a story Alfie needs to hear. Or not. Probably not. What you don’t know won’t hurt you- “Two, this horse wouldn’t hurt a fly.” As if someone up there just wants to offer an input, there’s a loud crash from somewhere by the stables. Alfie takes a step back instinctively, pulling Tommy away from the horse and tightly against his chest. Why are there always fucking noises everywhere… Azra just calmly keeps eating. He looks up for a moment, mouth full of grass. Gives Alfie a decidedly judgmental look that reminds him an eerie amount of Tommy. Then he lowers his head again.

Tommy gives him similarly pointed look. An ‘I told you so’- look.

Alfie really should insist that these little riding adventures are put on hold for a few months yet. Preferably to the distant future of never.

He should insist that they sell this fucking horse.

He should insist that Tommy thinks of his head and the sort of damage falling off could do.

Yeah, there are a lot of things he should insist on.

But Tommy is so happy. It’s as if this light is shining all the way from inside his chest, making his eyes sparkle and his smile so bright it completely melts his heart … And fuck, he knew this, didn’t he? Knew it from the very moment Tommy stepped into his office, all those years ago. Tommy will always need some danger in his life. Risks. Something that makes the adrenaline start pumping. If it’s not Birmingham gangsters or the fucking mafia, it’s a hot blooded horse. Tommy suffocates without it. This is a safer option than all those other things… And it doesn’t leave his eyes all hollowed out and lined with dark circles, or his jaw permanently clenched tight. He looks at Tommy, who drags a hand through his windswept hair, trying in vain to get it in order. waiting for his reaction.

Can’t seem to stop smiling today, can he?

Yeah, this sort of danger is one Alfie can live with.

“Well… if you fucking say so,” he grumbles. “Just… be careful. Mind your head and all that.”

Tommy feigns a look of shock, grabbing his shoulders. “Who are you, calm reasonable man, and what have you done to my husband?”

Alfie bites the inside of his cheek to keep the scowl in place. Tommy pulls out the glasses from his inner pocket, studying him thoroughly from behind the round steel frames. “No, it really is you. Or is there an unknown brother I know nothing about? Are you some sort of impostor?”

Alfie gives up and barks out a laugh, pulling him closer and pressing a kiss against those smiling lips.

“I’m a married man, I can’t go around kissing strangers in open fields-“ Tommy mumbles. “And my husband is a real brute. God knows what he’ll do if he-“ Alfie deepens the kiss, effectively swallowing the rest of that sentence.

But it’s very hard to kiss someone when you’re laughing so hard you’re nearly choking.

“You’ll be the fucking death of me.” He wipes away a tear and tries in vain to catch his breath and cradles Tommy’s face between his hands. Smiles at him, and is rewarded with a bright smile in return.

The glasses suit him. They frame his eyes in a very becoming way.

Azra nudges Tommy’s cheek, demanding attention. Alfie shoots him a glare.

“I need to cool him off,” Tommy says. “You can go up to the office. I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Nah, think I’m just going to sit here and watch. You make for quite a sight,” Alfie runs his fingers through Tommy’s hair, very purposefully messing it up even further. “See, I like it when your hair gets all wind swept like this. And your cheeks get a bit of colour. Something about this debouched look really does it for me.”

“You’re impossible,” Tommy rolls his eyes, kisses him again, and then swings himself up in the saddle with such ease that it leaves Alfie speechless for a moment. “Well, stay then. It won’t take long.”

Alfie stands by the fence watching, feeling perfectly content to do nothing but that for the time being. Now when Tommy is just trotting, the scene exudes nothing but peace. He happily lets himself sink into that same feeling.

A dog barking makes Alfie tear his eyes away from Tommy for a moment, to see Charlie and Cyril come down the hill towards them. May is stood up on the yard, keeping a watchful eye on them, and Alfie waves at her to show that he’s got it from here.

“Daddy, there’s lots lots of hay! I’m gonna jump from really high- climb and then jump,” Charlie babbles when he’s close enough. Alfie catches him as he throws himself into his arms.

“I bet you are.”

Charlie watches with wide eyed fascination as Tommy rides alongside the far edge of the pasture. Then he screws his face up, and tugs at Alfie’s sleeve.

“Is that the mean horse?”

“His name is Azra,” Alfie tells him. “Remember what we talked about, eh?”

Charlie nods slowly.

“Not mean. Just scared. Papa said so.”

Hoisting him up a little higher in his arms, Alfie presses a kiss against his temple.

“Yeah, that’s right, innit,” he says, perching Charlie on the fence to give him a good view of the pasture. They both look as Tommy brings Azra around at the farthest corner, riding him back along the fence. “Horses are only dangerous if they’re scared or hurt,” Alfie continues. “You’ve got to show them they’re safe. Teach them to trust you and all that. And it can take a really long time, so you’ve got to be patient. Take care of them”

Charlie nods thoughtfully, his tiny fingers grabbing onto Alfie’s beard as he considers this. Then, he cocks his head a little, eyes still fastened on Azra. “Horse isn’t scared now,” he decides. “He’s happy. Happy horse.”

He waves eagerly at Tommy, who reciprocates and veers off from his path to ride Azra towards the gate.

Alfie thinks again of how fucking lucky he got.

“Yeah.” He smiles. “I think so too.”

.......

A/N: there you have it! The conclusion. Is anyone surprised there’s a happy ending? I’m guessing no. You know that’s how I roll.

I’d love to hear your thoughts and feelings not only on the chapter but of the story as a whole. It’s the longest one I’ve written, and it’s definitely been a challenge. But a mostly enjoyable one! Thank you for reading ❤️

#alfie x tommy #Alfie/Tommy #Tommy Shelby #Alfie Solomons #charlie shelby-solomons #peaky blinders fanfiction #to live a life #wtma au

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diinofayce · 5 years

Text

Shadows on the Horizon - 7

Pairing: Winter Soldier! Bucky Barnes x OFC! Layne Hardin // Thor Odinson x OFC! Susanna Sweet | Word Count: 2.4k | Warnings: None | A/N: This is a sequel to my story Like a Whisper in the Night | Shadows on the Horizon Masterlist

Susanna stepped out of her bathroom with a towel tied around her body while using a second to squeeze water from her red hair. She looked up as the doorknob to the apartment turned and smiled softly as the lumbering frame of her boyfriend slipped in.

“Long day?” Sue asked, taking in his ragged appearance and tired eyes.

It had been a whirlwind romance and admittedly a complete accident. She had come to the tower when she got a frantic voicemail from Layne about having been kidnapped and being unable to get a hold of the team. Sick with worry she had hopped on her motorcycle and drove all the way from Minnesota to New York barely stopping. When things with Layne had settled and she met Thor the connection was instantaneous. She was a forty-year-old divorcee and had given up on the thought of love, putting all of her energy into her music and her friends. Thor was the first man in a long time to make her feel beautiful and wanted.

She would be the first to admit that this whole thing had gotten a little out of control. Susanna went from hiding the fact that she was born with the mutant gene to now being an Avenger. Albeit, an Avenger that was off the radar. Layne, Wanda, and Natasha were constantly hinting that she should be joining them during press conferences, especially after missions that succeeded thanks to her, they always press how more women on the team the better. But she just couldn’t, she had grown kids and the last thing she needed was for them to be worried sick about her all the time.

She had already been chewing over how she would bring up to Thor and the team that she would have to step away for a little while. She owned a mechanic shop back in Minnesota and while she had a very competent team running it in her absence, between the tour and the Avengers it’s been almost six months since she last stopped in to make sure her business was still standing. The weight of her responsibilities back home battling the taste of actually contributing to keeping the world safe was starting to wear on her.

“Only because you were not beside me,” Thor answered with a dopey smile and followed her into their bedroom.

Sue was digging through her clothes drawers trying to find something comfy to wear, her muscles pleasantly sore from her work out earlier. Thor walked up behind her and wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her up and against his hard body. Sue giggled as his beard tickled up the side of her neck as he spattered kisses along the soft expanse of skin.

“A good thing I wasn’t, you never pay attention when I’m around,” Susanna teased and Thor simply hummed in agreement.

“How can I? You are the most distracting creature I have ever come across.”

Sue felt the heat of a blush creep up her chest and flare the tips of her ears. “Flatterer.” She spun in his grasp so she could lean up and catch his lips with her own and creep her arms up around his neck.

Thor growled in want and softly bit at Sue’s bottom lip until she allowed his tongue access. They made outstanding in the middle of their room until both needed to break away, dizzy from lack of air.

“How was Layne this morning?” Thor whispered, not wanting to break the soft mood between them as he rested his forehead on hers.

Sue shrugged, a slight frown creasing her features. “I think it was just a fluke. We’ll have to see if it’s a pattern that’s going to continue, but I think she scared herself a bit.”

Thor placed a kiss on her forehead before sliding his arms down under the round of her ass and lifting her easily into his arms. Susanna let out a less than delicate squawk of surprise, still not used to being handled like a delicate little thing like Thor often did, only for him to carry her over to the bed.

“What did they say about Barnes?” Susanna asked, running her hands up Thor’s chest as he climbed onto the bed to hover over her.

“Rogers seems to think that he can be given some extent of trust. He’s not a mindless machine like he was last time I suppose, I was not around when problems with Barnes were happening in the past so I couldn’t really say. He reminds me of how he was when I first met him after he was brought back from Africa.”

“So, what? Are we rotating babysitting duty?” Sue questioned, tangling her fingers in Thor’s blond locks.

Thor sighed, darkness falling over his expression that had Sue furrowing her brows in concern.

“Unfortunately, I am needed back with my people for a little while. There are apparently issues with the government and our settlement. They gave us land to make our own, but they have asked that we follow their laws. We are Asgardian but also Norwegian and my people are finding issue with that as are the locals. My people still see me as the king, but Norway has a…president? And they have laws that are not our own,” Thor sighed again and fell to his side next to Sue where he buried his face in her neck once more, inhaling her scent to bring him comfort.

“Well, being refugees can’t be easy, but you can’t exactly colonize a chunk of Norway and declare it Asgard. You’ll start a war,” Susanna insisted softly.

“But they gave it to us,” Thor pressed.

“That’s not how things work.”

Thor grumbled into her skin and sucked softly on her earlobe. Susanna huffed with amusement at Thor’s antics, even during a rather serious discussion the man was insatiable.

“Will you come with me? Help me navigate the laws of this world?” Thor asked, his voice soft and small.

Susanna sat up and looked down at Thor. “I’m not some kind of political lawyer, Thor. I’m a mechanic. You should talk to Pepper about borrowing some of the legal team.”

“Well. Will you come for support?” He looked up at her with big blue puppy dog eyes and Sue sighed in frustration.

“I can’t just go to Norway, Thor. I need to go back to my home too at some point. Check in with my family and the shop. And I can’t just leave Layne for an extended period with everything going on.”

“But I need you,” Thor said, pouting slightly.

“I have my own responsibilities.” Susanna insisted.

Thor sighed in defeat but then a wide smile took over his face. “Why did I have to fall in love with such a strong woman?”

Susanna mirrored his smile and reached over to run her thumb over his scruffy cheek before sobering and looking him seriously in the eyes. “Because no one else will put up with your bullshit, my king.” She teased lightly.

“Hmm. Well, how about I show my queen my fealty?” Thor suggested and rolled so he was caging her in between his thick arms once more.

~*~

Layne sat curled up in the corner of the long sectional couch in the common space. Everyone had their dinners and cleaned up after themselves and then parted to do their own things. It was Wednesday and normally on Wednesdays those who weren’t on missions would get together and watch a movie or just hang out and socialize, but after the incident with Bucky and no one really getting any rest after long missions it went unspoken that no one would be coming to hang out that night.

So Layne enjoyed the expansive room by herself, curled up with an acoustic guitar and notebooks scattered on the cushions around her. Snow was falling softly outside and Layne had turned on the gas fireplace when the sun dipped down behind the other buildings. It was quiet and cozy and Layne loved the small moments like this that she could get in the tower. Normally she had to lock herself away in her apartment for this sort of peace, but she couldn’t stand being in her old room right now.

As she slowly plucked at the strings of her guitar, pausing every so often to scribble a number or dot on a blank piece of sheet music, her gaze flashed back to the windows. Where it had just been softly snowing only a few minutes earlier suddenly sheets of freezing rain were falling from the sky followed by a flash of lightning and an immediate crash of thunder. Layne sighed and went back to her music, trying not to feel bitter.

When the little hairs on her arms and the back of her neck rose she didn’t falter.

“Escape from your watchdog?” Layne asked, not even bothering to look up from her notebooks.

“He’s a bad handler,” the Soldier answered stepping into Layne’s field of vision.

Layne hummed and looked up at him to examine his face. The emotionless mask was gone, replaced with one that was pinched in concern and confusion. There was a soft sparkle behind his eyes, it gave Layne hope.

“That’s because he’s not a handler,” Layne corrected going back to her notebooks. “He’s your best friend. Where is he?”

“Medical.”

Layne’s eyes flicked up to him sharply and he winced, just barely, in what seemed to be guilt.

“Sparring get out of hand?” she asked nonchalantly. It wasn’t anything new, Steve or Bucky usually ended up in medical getting their nose set or a shoulder relocated every time they sparred. Both were too stubborn to let the other win.

“I broke his cheekbone, maybe his eye socket.” The Soldier admitted and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Layne motioned to the empty expanse of couch and the Soldier hesitantly sat down on one of the ends, a good three cushions away from her.

“This arm is lighter than Hydra’s. Hurts less,” he continued.

“Shuri is very good at what she does,” Layne murmured, trying to keep her heart rate steady and looking focused on what she was doing.

The Soldier was now actively seeking her out, trying to hold a conversation with her. This was good, this was what she wanted. If she kept playing hard to get like this then maybe they could start getting somewhere. She tried to pretend like she wasn’t bothered or concerned about his uncomfortable fidgeting as her pencil scratched along the notebook. This felt so much more familiar to her, her sitting and working on music while Bucky would watch TV with the sound off or just read on the other end of the couch, that she started to forget that it was different.

It was when the feeling of his intense gaze on her got too heavy that she startled out of her reverie and looked up at him.

“Who is with Steve now?” Layne asked after clearing her throat.

“Natalia.”

Layne hummed and plucked a little at her strings. “Does that bother you?”

The Soldier’s eyes moved over Layne’s face, he could hear her heart pick up with nervousness and he watched as her tongue poked out and anxiously wet her lips. His gaze moved down to her long fingers that wrapped around the neck of her guitar, his eyes narrowed as a memory surfaced. He had gotten it for her for her birthday earlier in the year. It looked like the one he had seen from her memories before they were ever together. In her memory, he had watched as her father smashed it against her bedroom wall. He remembered Layne cried when she opened the case and it seemed to get more play than her electric.

“No. Natalia doesn’t remember us,” he admitted finally. It used to hurt him, that her eyes would shift over his with nothing more than simple recognition - like the kind of look you’d give an acquaintance. But then Layne had joined the team and suddenly it didn’t matter. Bucky had kept Layne at an arms length for months after seeing her had stirred the Soldier, Bucky had felt it, the animalistic need to protect the new girl.

“Does that bother you?” Layne pressed and the Soldier shook his head.

“Not anymore,” he answered immediately and honestly, his eyes connecting with hers.

She sucked in a small, sharp breath and broke their gaze to look at her fingers on the fret board, a soft pink blush gracing her cheeks. Clearing her throat she looked back up at him through her lashes as he inched a little closer to her. She smirked and moved a pile of notebooks on his side of the couch over to the other side.

“I wanted to thank you,” he said slowly, lacing his fingers together in his lap and cracking the knuckles of his right hand nervously.

“For what?” Layne asked, setting her guitar aside and pulling her legs up under her and wrapping her arms around her knees.

“For not being afraid.”

Layne tilted her head to the side in confusion and chewed on her bottom lip. “Why would I ever be afraid of you?”

The Soldier shrugged. “Well, I’m not him,” he swallowed hard, his gaze on the floor darting back and forth as he tried to recall something. “I’ve done all the bad things.”

Layne scooted closer and the Soldier flinched, Layne hesitated before throwing caution to the wind and moving right next to him. She held her hand out to him, palm up. “Do you trust me?”

The Soldier looked between her and her hand. She was leaving him with the choice, just like she always did. He took it last night because he was so ridiculously tired, but now when he was awake and aware it was a different story.

“I have always seen you. Please, let me show you,” Layne begged. “Just give me your hand.”

The Soldier hesitated for a moment more before reaching out with his right hand to brush his calloused fingers across the soft skin of her palm. She smiled softly and gently laced her fingers with his. This time instead of the sensation of being hit with a bucket of ice the Soldier felt himself sucked into a vacuum, his ears popped and his vision went dark momentarily and when his vision came back he was looking up at himself from Layne’s perspective.

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