#I just gotta work up the courage to ask someone for a pen and paper

[shititsarobyn]

I forgot how Nuevo divergent I was about drawing, I’m attempting to regulate myself after an anxiety attack and I’m just itching for a pen and paper to help me

[drabbles-mc]

Company and Conversation

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Request by Anonymous: What about a Juice x TellerFemReader where Chuck picks up on her feelings for Juice, and helps her to admit her feelings to Juice?

Warnings: language, Juice being an oblivious lil cutie

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: I know the request specified that the reader be a Teller but as I started writing, that bit didn’t really seem super integral to the plot so I just left it as F!Reader. Hope that’s alright! Enjoy some Chucky! xo

SOA Taglist: @garbinge @masterlistforimagines @adela-topaz-caelon @mijop @chibsytelford​ @xladymacbethx​ @i-just-read-stuff​ @kkim120​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @toni9​ @unicornucopia-fuckers​ @mayans-sauce​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @punkgoddess-98​ @paintballkid711​ @black-repunzel99​ @jitterbugs927​ @mrsstevenbuchananstark​ (If you want to be added to the list please let me know!)

You knew that sooner or later you were going to run out of bullshit things to ask for help with on your car. About ninety percent of the problems that you brought up to Juice, you knew what was wrong and how to fix it. However, it was one of the only ways that it ever got the two of you any kind of alone time to talk, even if it was just him asking you about what was wrong with the car and walking you through how to fix it. You could listen to him talk about pretty much anything.

“Thanks again, Juice,” you said as he shut the hood of your car, “I owe you one.”

He shook his head, a content little smile on his face, “You don’t owe me anything. But unfortunately, I think I’ve run out of free favors, so you do owe T-M a couple bucks for the part,” he laughed.

You chuckled, “Yea, yea of course.”

He nodded towards the office, “If you wanna go square up with Chucky I can get this all finished up for you.”

You nod, “Sure, thank you.”

You looked back over your shoulder as you walked over to the office to see Juice hopping into the driver’s seat. You hated that the sight of that instantly made a wave of warmth wash over you, your face heating up as you tried not to think about it too much.

“Hey, Chucky,” you smiled at him as you walked through the door.

He looked up at you from the desk, the same genuine smile on his face that he always greeted you with, “How can I help you today, Y/N?”

“Just gotta square up some repair payments?”

He tilted his head slightly, “Something else go wrong with your car?”

You shrugged, getting the gut feeling that Chucky was on the pulse of things around the compound, “Nothing serious. Juice fixed it pretty quick.”

“He must know your car really well by now,” he wasn’t looking at you as he pulled the paperwork together, but you knew the connotation of the comment.

“Well, nice to have someone around here who does,” you chuckled as you fussed with the bottom hem of your shirt.

He motioned for you to sit down across from him so you could go through the paperwork with him. It was a fast interaction, pretty straight-forward like things usually were with Chucky. You were signing the bottom of the paper as he ran your card. You could feel him looking at you but you didn’t comment on it.

“I’m sure he’d let you talk to him without having an excuse,” he said as he handed your card back to you.

“Hm?” you fumbled with your wallet as you heard what he said.

He nodded towards the parking lot, “I think Juan Carlos is just happy for the company and the conversation.”

“Yea,” you nodded slowly as you watched Juice scamper around the T-M lot, “maybe.”

You finished squaring everything up with Chucky and headed back out towards your car. Juice was leaning back against the door, keys dangling from his fingers as he texted on his phone. You walked up slowly, wanting to really take in the sight of him before snapping him out of whatever world he was in inside his head.

He heard your footsteps and looked up, a smile instantly coming across his face, “All set?”

You nodded, “All set.”

He pressed the keys into your hand, “Hopefully you’ll be set for a while,” he paused, smiling, “Not that I don’t love seeing you.”

You felt your face getting hot as you let out a nervous laugh, “Pretty sure you’ve restored almost the whole thing for me at this point.”

He laughed, nodding, “Pretty close.”

You twirled the keys around your finger nervously, “Thank you, Juice,” you fought the urge to step in and hug him.

Your hesitation must’ve been more apparent on your face that you thought because you saw the way that his expression shifted for a moment, “Anytime.”

You gave one last smile and nod before hopping into the driver’s seat. You turned the key in the ignition, taking a deep breath to get your thoughts in order as you did so. As you pulled out of the lot, you glanced into your rearview mirror and saw Juice still standing in the lot, watching you drive off with a smile on his face. You tried to subdue the smile that was fighting its way onto your face. Shaking your head, you focused your thoughts on the road.

“You know,” Chucky popped up, seemingly out of nowhere beside Juice.

He jumped back slightly, not having heard the man walk up, “Jesus Christ, Chucky,” he ran his hand over his mohawk, “Scared the shit out of me.”

“It’s good to stay aware of your surroundings, you know.”

Juice raised his eyebrows a little, chuckling, “Noted. What’s up?”

Chucky’s eyes lit up as he got back towards the reason he had come over to Juice in the first place, “You know, she’s here an awful lot.”

“Yea,” he agreed, blissfully unaware of where Chucky was directing the conversation, “Shit run of luck with that car of hers. Seems like its one thing after another.”

He looked over at Juice, trying to gauge whether or not he was purposely not seeing what Chucky had so clearly been seeing, or if he was really that unobservant, “That’s a considerable amount of bad luck in a short amount of time, isn’t it?”

His brows furrowed in confusion, “I guess so?”

Chucky let out a short sigh as he shook his head, “Awareness, Juan Carlos,” he turned and started walking back towards the office, “Work on your awareness.”

Juice watched him as he walked away, confusion still etched into his features as he whispered to himself, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

A few days later you found yourself sitting in your car in the T-M lot once again. This time, you had no cover story for being there, no mystery ailment for your car. It was just you, and your little drink tray that had a coffee for you, one for Juice, and a tea for Chucky. You nervously drummed your fingers on the steering wheel as you tried to muster up the courage to get out.

Taking one last deep breath, you cut the ignition, tucking your keys in your pocket before hopping out of the car and grabbing your drinks. You glanced over at the garage and saw that there were a couple mechanics around but none of them were from the MC. You scanned over the line of bikes and tried not to get discouraged as you walked over to the office.

You gently knocked on the door as you walked in, causing Chucky to look up from the paperwork spread out across the desk in front of him. When he saw it was you, a smile crossed his features.

“Y/N, you’re back,” he set his pen down, “Something I can help you with?”

You shook your head, “No, no. I just,” you took his cup out of the drink tray, “I brought you this.”

His eyes lit up, enamored by the gesture, “Really?”

You laughed, nodding, “Yea.”

He motioned towards the chair on the other side of the desk and you gladly took a seat. There were a million thoughts and questions resting on the tip of your tongue, but you kept them to yourself as you listened to Chucky talk. A lot of the time you couldn’t help but to think that out of everyone at the compound, no one enjoyed having a bit of company more than he did.

“Can I take a guess at who the third cup is for?” he asked, completely abandoning the previous topic.

It caught you a little off-guard as you sipped on your coffee, but you instantly felt the heat rising in your face, “I feel like you don’t need to call it a guess, Chucky.”

“He’s in the clubhouse if you want me to go get—”

“No!” you cut him off, immediately trying to regain your composure, “Sorry. Sorry. But, no, you don’t have to do that. It’s fine. It’s not a big deal.”

“A kind gesture is a very big deal.”

You chuckled quietly, “Right.”

“Is there a message being passed along with that coffee?” he lifted his cup to his lips, an intrigued look on his face.

You smiled, “Sometimes coffee is just coffee, Chucky. Just like tea,” you gestured towards his cup, “is just tea.”

“But there’s no reason for my tea to be anything more than tea.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could, Juice came bounding into the office, “Hey, Chucky, you ever get those order forms for—” he stopped when he saw you lounged on the other side of the desk, “Oh, hey,” he smiled, “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t,” you shook your head, “I was just—”

“I was just stepping out,” Chucky rose from his seat, making sure to grab his tea as he did, “I can go get those forms for you. Keep Miss Y/N company,” he walked past him, whispering very quietly under his breath, “Awareness, Juan Carlos.”

Juice chuckled, still not sure what Chucky was talking about as he stepped beyond the threshold of the office. He walked over to the desk, leaning back against it. You smiled, trying not to get distracted by the fact that he was only a few inches away from you. Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to speak.

“That’s for you, by the way,” you nodded towards the coffee cup.

“For me?” he looked pleased but confused.

“Yea,” you chuckled, “a little thank you for always fixing up my car.”

He laughed as he took the cup, drumming his fingers on the sides of it, “You really don’t have to thank me. Honestly, I just feel bad that you always have so much stuff going wrong.”

You let out a quiet laugh, “Yea. Um. About that.”

He raised his eyebrows as he sipped on his coffee, expecting you to say that something else had gone wrong. You took a breath to steady your nerves, trying to soak up the last few moments before you said something that you weren’t going to be able to take back.

“Most of the stuff that I brought it here for, I could’ve fixed myself.”

He tilted his head slightly, “What?”

“I just, um,” you hated that it was so difficult to say something so simple, “I just liked having an excuse to see you, to talk to you. I didn’t…I didn’t really know how else to do that.” It was evident on his face that he was trying to process everything that you were saying to him. you fussed with the lid of your cup, “I was told that maybe I should just be a little more direct about it.”

“Oh?” his smile was soft.

You laughed, “Yea. I’ve been made aware of a few things on my last couple of trips here.”

“You know,” he chuckled softly, “funny you should say that. Chucky was just telling me the other day that I’ve gotta be more aware.”

“Aware of what?”

“Everything, I guess?” he shrugged with a laugh, “Never really clarified.”

“I, uh,” your face heated up, “that might’ve had something to do with me. And my, um, car issues,” you threw air-quotes around the words.

“Oh yea?”

“Oh yea,” you laughed, nodding, “I…I really like you, Juice.”

His eyes widened, along with his smile, “Really?”

“Yea, really,” you chuckled, “What did you think this was—” you shook your head, “Never mind. Anyway. I like you. And, if you’re up for it, I’d really like to go grab a drink with you sometime. The coffee doesn’t count,” you smirked.

He laughed, “I’d like that.”

“Yea? Okay, great. Any chance I could get your number, then?” you pulled your phone out of your pocket.

He gladly took it from you and plugged his number in. There was a giddy smile on his face and it was impossible not to mirror his expression. He handed the phone back to you and you smiled as you looked over the number.

“Great,” you nodded as you tucked the phone back into your pocket, “I’ll give you a call soon, then.”

He beamed, “Looking forward to it.”

There was a beat of silence and you looked over at the door, gasping slightly when you saw that Chucky was leaning against the doorframe. Juice whipped his head to look as well, having the same reaction as you. He shook his head, not able to understand how he was still surprised when Chucky popped up places.

“How long have you been standing there?” you asked.

He smiled knowingly, “Just the right amount of time.”

[murderousginger]

Wear You Like A Halo

Peaky blinders 

Cops & Robbers Part 4

Warnings: Fluff. Angst. Steamy kisses. They're criminals guys, they do bad things.

Word count: 6.5k

Tagging: @imagine-that-100 @blinder-secrets @rae-you-gotta-be-kidding-me @theshelbyclan @peakascum

In true Tommy fashion, the kiss was never spoken about once it happened. It had been a short, soft kiss. One that could have meant anything, and the possibilities left you more conflicted than the goodbye kiss to John ever could have. 

In the weeks after that night, everything had stayed relatively the same. The Shelby's still came in and conducted business or drank. You still helped Harry keep the bar in order. And you and the Shelby men still were on good terms. John had been distant for a time after that night; he had slowly started coming back around and you both were trying to find the new line that the friendship needed to be built around.

One day when you had come into The Garrison early, you were taking care of the few day customers while Harry worked on paperwork when Finn came running in. 

"(Y/N)," he said, bounding up to the bar, "I was hoping you were here."

"'lo Finny," you said with a smile. "I came in a bit early so Harry could catch up. Why were you looking for me?"

"Tommy asked me to get you and Lizzie," he said, looking nervously at the patrons at the bar. "He said 'go get (Y/N) and Lizzie Stark, it's her off day from being secretary, and take them both to my office' and that's what I'm after." 

"Oh did he?" You ask with a raised brow. "I suppose what King Tommy wants, King Tommy gets. Let me go talk to Harry and we'll be on the way."

Finn nods excitedly and you walk to the back. 

"Harry?" You called as you walked to the back office. "You got a moment?"

"Sure, sure," the man waved you in. "What do you want? I was almost done. One of the regulars driving you mad?"

"No, not that," you said as you leaned in the doorway of the small office and rubbed your arm. "Tommy has Finn at the bar, said he's here to fetch me to bring to the office for something."

Harry's eyes shot up from the paperwork and his brows knitted together. He licked his lips, dropping the pen and taking a deep breath before speaking. 

"(Y/N)," he started kindly. "I know you've known the Shelby's since you were children. I know," he paused, looking for words, "I know you care for them. And them for you, as far as I've seen. But be careful."

You tried to give him a confident smile, but it mostly felt forced.

"I'm careful, Harry," you said. "I've done plenty you wouldn't approve of before working here. I'll do plenty you don't approve of now."

"I have no doubt, little bird," he chuckled. "But you can only play with fire so long before something burns."

You nodded. 

"I know," you said quietly. Harry gave you a long look before smiling and nodding toward the hallway.

"Off with you," he said gruffly. "Tell the regulars I'll be out in a moment. Tell them not to help themselves in the meantime."

You smiled and nodded again, walking back to the bar.

"I'll be back," you called behind you. 

When you got back to the room, you told the regulars to wait on Harry in the back, and you gathered your coat from behind the bar.

"Let's go, Finny," you said, and smiled as he raised his arm for you to take. 

You let him lead you to the vehicle and open the door for you. You crawled in as he rounded the car and got in the driver's seat. Finn turned the ignition over and off to Lizzie's apartment down the road you went. 

Finn left you in the car to fetch Lizzie. You decided to scoot to the middle of the bench and straddle the stick shift to allow her the passenger seat so no one was forced to sit alone in the back. A few moments later you saw Finn escorted Lizzie out of the building and to the car. 

"(Y/N)," Lizzie said stiffly. "Do you know why Tommy wants us on my day off?"

"No clue, Lizzie," you said as Finn got in on the other side of you. "But I'm sure it's not regular business." 

Finn stiffened beside you and hesitated, but you weren't sure why. He started the vehicle and apprehensively shifted into first gear. 

"Well obviously he didn't want me for regular work if he's sending Finn," Lizzie said. "But why is he asking for us both?"

Finn drove slower than usual down the road, and you weren't sure how long it would take to get to the office at the current speed. 

"I wasn't told nothin'," Finn said, still putting slowly down the road. "I already said so."

"Yes, Finn," Lizzie said sharply. "We know your brother doesn't tell you anything. I was asking if (Y/N) knows."

You shrug, both shoulders touching the other two. 

"I didn't know I was asked for until Finny interrupted my work at The Garrison," you said, still noticing the Ford hadn't picked up speed since you left Lizzie's apartment.

"Oh for fucks sake, Finny," you said exasperated. "Push the clutch in, will you." 

You grabbed the shift between your legs and shoved it into second gear. 

"Yes ma'am," Finn gulped as he did what he was told and the Ford picked up speed. 

Lizzie chuckled. 

"Looks like you have a virgin Shelby after you as well," she said.

"Shut up, Liz," You said angrily. "He's a boy. Not everyone is ready to look for your services."

Lizzie quieted and held a scowl.

"Now can you be a man and shift or do we need to pull over and I drive?" You growled at Finn. 

"I'll drive," he said, edge in his voice. "Tommy told me to pick you up. He won't take kindly to you driving me back."

"I highly doubt Tommy would scold you if I took over the car," you said. "But I won't sit in first gear the entire trip. So grow up."

"Yes ma'am," Finn murmured, hesitantly grabbing the shift between your legs and moving into third gear. 

The rest of the drive took much less time.

When you arrived, Finn opened the passenger door and helped you both out of the car before leading you up to Tommy's office. He knocked on  the closed door twice before Tommy called out "come in" in a rough voice. Finn opened the door for you both and let you walk to the chairs in front of Tommy's desk before closing the door behind you. 

"Sit down, ladies," Tommy said, head buried in paperwork and glasses on his face. "Let me look this one paper over and then I'll be right with you."

You both apprehensively took the two chairs and sat stiffly, eyeing Tommy. As you waited in the silence, you couldn't help but look Tommy over. 

Tommy's brow were tightly knotted as he read whatever paper was in front of him. His glasses barely hung on his nose, and his right hand held a cigarette that had been burning without his breath for quite some time. When he finally looked up, he looked at you first. His face relaxed as he noticed the intensity of your stare, but all emotion was soon hidden behind a blank face. 

"What do you want, Tommy?" You said, breaking the silence. "Why are we here?"

"Right," Tommy said, clearing his throat as he leaned back in his chair and looked between you both. "We have business, and we need" he paused, looking for the word, "decorations, with us. Distractions." 

"You need women so they don't look so hard at you," Lizzie said blankly. Tommy nodded. 

"Exactly," he said. "But we want women we can trust. They know Polly and Ada are family, and this isn't a family event. We need you two to come along and give them something to look at." 

"I'm not a whore, Tommy," you said angrily. "I'll not be traded."

"No trading," Tommy said, arms open as he tried placating your fears. "And no whoring. We just need you to pretend to be our girls while we talk." 

"You need us to pretend to be your whores," Lizzie said with agitation. "So they'll be looking at us and you won't be asked to be with theirs."

Tommy nodded. Lizzie pursed her lips and gave a short nod. You squinted at Tommy. 

"Can't you just bring whores for that?" You said.

"I don't trust whores," he said agitated. "I trust you. Now will you do it or do you need to keep fighting me?"

"It's not like you're really asking us," you snap back. 

"You're right," he said. "I'm not. We'll get you a nice set of dresses and pick you up at 7 tomorrow night. I'll tell Harry you're off, (Y/N)."

"Fine," you both mutter. Tommy's blue eyes looked sharply between you both before he nodded more to himself than to you. 

"Dress not so low on my back, please," you say softly, looking down at your hands in your lap.

"Right," he said, jaw clenching. "Be off with you. We'll see you tomorrow. Someone will deliver the dresses before then."

You both stood up and numbly walked out of the office. Once out of the building, you both paused, seeing Finn had already left with the car. Lizzie lit a cigarette.

"I see how he watches you," she said through her exhale of smoke. "But I'm the one he visits at night when his head is too loud."

"He still pays you, though, doesn't he?" You said quietly. "He pays you because it keeps you distant. It writes you off. He might go to you, but it's a transaction."

Lizzie froze, anger bubbled just beneath the surface. She dropped her cigarette, stomping it out and stormed off toward her apartment. 

----

You were nervous through the night and into the next day. You didn't know exactly what you would be doing that night other than being pretty and quiet. 

Isaiah delivered the dress and matching heels around lunch. You tried to offer him tea or a snack but he waved you off.

"Nah," he said. "I've got more running to do," he walked backwards to the road. "But have a good time at the party. I peeked at the dress." 

He sent a wink that left your mouth agape as he ran down the road to finish doing whatever errands were given to him. You hugged the box to you and disappeared back into your home. 

You looked closely at the blue box before you finally had the courage to open it. You unwrapped the paper within and gasped at the sleek silky slip dress below. It was the same blue as the cotton one you had bought that was now your favorite. It had beading along the shoulders and heels dyed and beaded to match. You ran your hands over it lovingly, knowing the price they must have paid was far higher than you could ever afford. 

You got ready over the next few hours, curling your hair, putting it up off of your shoulders, putting on lipstick and getting dressed. You had found a small matching clutch in the box that you decided to place your lipstick and a few dollars in as you waited. You hesitated, looking at your small knife before slipping it into the bag as well.

Shortly after seven you heard a car park outside. You decided not to wait for them to come and get you, and instead stepped out of your home and locked the door behind you. 

"We were coming to get you, like a lady, (Y/N)," Arthur called from the street waving his hands in the air as he walked to you. 

"John and Tommy have never treated me like a lady in my life," you said, "no reason to start today."

"That's why I was comin' for ya," Arthur said as he gave you a side hug. "You look perfect. Lizzie's already in the back seat. In you go." 

He opened the door and ushered you in. You slid in, seeing Lizzie against the other door looking out the window and John in the middle seat giving you a wicked grin. Tommy was sitting in the passenger seat in front of you. Arthur shut your door as you settled in and he moved around the vehicle to the driver's seat. 

"Hello hello," you said, nudging John and looking between everyone. "Nice night for criminal activity, eh?"

"Don't worry about the business part," Tommy said. "Just enjoy the party and look pretty."

"And keep my mouth shut?" You said, leaning back.

"And keep your mouth shut," Tommy answered.

"And what's to happen if I don't?" You challenged.

"Do you ever shut up?" Lizzie said as she looked at you. You looked over John and glared at Lizzie.

"We all don't have history of being paid to be discrete, Liz," you shot back. "Can't help your price is so low."

"Enough," Tommy said loudly. "We're all going to this party and you both will be quiet. We'll do our dealings and be out without a problem. I chose you because you're loyal and can handle business. Don't make me regret it."

The car was silent. After a few moments, Arthur cleared his throat and asked Tommy a question, breaking the hold on the car. 

John looked to you, nudging your shoulder.

"You look good in that color," he said in a quiet voice as the conversation continued in the front seat. You smiled. 

"I see you're still trying your charms," you said.

"No harm in it," he said, pulling a pick from his pocket and placing it in his mouth. "We've been both called to business."

"Why didn't you have your wife come?" You asked. "She's got to be more trustworthy than --" 

You nodded to Lizzie, who was looking out the window. John's eyes softened.

"Can't be having both my favorite girls in danger at once," he said. "And someone's got to look after the children when I'm gone."

You wanted to melt, to feel the bloom of warmth that wanted to expand in your chest, but all you felt was cold.

"You'll never be gone, John," you said, nudging his shoulder with a sad smile. "Shelby's are too stubborn to die. You'll be a dirty old man making all the girls uncomfortable with your wink."

John gave a brief smile and rolled the pick in his mouth from one end of his smile to the other with his tongue. 

"Maybe," he said noncommittally. "Until then, I'm here. With you. Might as well enjoy it."

You smiled and squeezed his arm before resting your head on his shoulder. You looked out the window to see Tommy's eyes meet yours in the side mirror. His face was perfectly blank but his eyes held a storm that you weren't sure of the cause. 

----

The car arrived at a gorgeous large home surrounded by land just as dusk darkened the sky. 

"A party?" Lizzie said. "We're dressed for London and going to a party."

"It's a good cover for business," Arthur said. "Little fun, little business, and dirt on those that stay the night."

"Oh," she said. "That sort of party." 

You felt Lizzie shift uncomfortably in her seat and immediately felt on edge. You looked over and finally noticed her dress was very similar to yours, only a mustard color with brown beading. She picked at the beading near the bottom of her dress.

"We'll take care of ye," Arthur rumbled. "Stick close and smile and it'll be over before you know it."

"Who's to be matched with who?" You asked and fidgeted with your clutch. The car stopped in front of the house and a boy came to take the keys from Arthur.

Your question was ignored and the doors opened for you and Lizzie. You stepped out in your heels, feeling the gravel crunch below your feet. The game was on. 

John exited the car on Lizzie's side and took her arm to escort her in. You nervously looked back to the house and felt a touch on your shoulder. 

Tommy had lit a cigarette and was taking a long inhale of the smoke as his hand was outreached for yours. He nodded as the smoke rose from his mouth to his nose, disappearing back into his lungs. You smiled and took his arm, stilling yourself for a moment in preparation. 

You and Tommy led the pack through the doors, shortly followed by John and Lizzie, and Arthur trailing behind. The house was massive and bright. Men talked in groups and women similarly dressed to you were peppered in. Dark corners held couples kissing and drugs. You watched people closely as Tommy led you to a side den and what you could guess was the host. 

"Ah yes!" Tommy exclaimed, mentioning the man's name, but you were so nervous you immediately forgot it. "Beautiful home. Thank you for having us."

"Tommy Shelby," the man said cooly, leaning against a fireplace. "Thank you. I see you brought your brothers."

The man looked to be middle aged with a mustache. His brown suit was nice and he held a glass of liquor on ice. He looked intently at you and Lizzie, up and down like he was looking over a horse at the market.

"And who are these beauties?" He said as he clicked his tongue. You did your best not to drop your smile. "I told you I would provide the entertainment tonight."

"You did," Tommy said, "but we Shelby's prefer a bit of Birmingham with us wherever we go."

"I see why," the man said, holding his hand out to take yours. You let him. 

"(Y/N), Pleasure. And this," you said, deflecting his eyes off of you, "is Lizzie."

Lizzie murmured her pleasantries and smiled and Tommy cleared his throat, bringing the man's attention back to him. 

"Right," he said. "So shall we have a drink and talk business, or talk business and have a drink?"

"Tommy," the man jested. "Always to the point. I have a few other matters to attend to, so best you men get these ladies a drink before. Enjoy the party. I'll be back shortly."

The man walked away and your group was left to wander the party. Tommy touched the small of your back and led you out of the den. Your stomach was butterflies when you walked into a larger living area with multiple large ornate couches. He motioned for you to sit on the couch and John ushered Lizzie beside you. 

"We'll find you two drinks," John said as he looked around the crowded room. "Stay here."

"You need three men to get five drinks?" Lizzie said dryly. "Sounds like a Shelby."

Tommy rolled his eyes before looking down at you both perched on the couch.

"We'll be back shortly," he said. "Just stay here and you'll get your drink."

"Gin," Lizzie sounded.

"Whiskey," you said after.

"Always whiskey," John said with a wink before the brothers left to find the alcohol. 

"They're scoping out the layout," you said as you watched the crowd, "It's as much the alcohol and girl watching as it is the job."

Lizzie opened her mouth and then clamped it shut as she saw a man sit on the arm of the couch next to you. She smiled and touched your hand.

"I think I'm going to find my own drink," she said, looking from your eyes to behind you with a tight smile. You watched her leave the same direction the boys did and jumped when you realized a man was sitting on the arm of your seat, looking down at you like a predator. 

"May I help you?" You said, leaning away from the man to look up at him. 

"You shouldn't have been left alone," he said as he fingered the dark beading of your dress on your shoulder. "I can get you a drink. Are you a gin or vodka girl?"

"No thank you," you said, scooting into the middle of the couch to get away from his reach. "I have a drink on its way."

"Oh now," he said as he slipped onto the seat where you had sat. "No need not to be friendly."

His hand slid onto your thigh and played with the dress at your knee. Your teeth grinded together as you looked up at his smirk.

"I said no," you said. "Do you need to hear it again?"

The man's smirk slowly turned into a look of confusion as he looked down at your hand holding a small knife against his crotch. No one around you seemed to have noticed your interaction.

"(Y/N) I've got your whiskey--" John said as he barreled toward the couch holding drinks in both hands. He stopped directly in front of you when he noticed the man. His eyes grew wide as he looked down at your hand holding the knife before he gave you a careful look.

"Thank you, John," you said as you slid your knife back into your bag and reached for your drink. "I was just telling this man--"

"Roy," the man supplied in a daze. His eyes moved between you and John, who smirked down at you as he handed you your drink. Roy's hand slowly moved off of your leg and onto his own lap.

"Roy," you said, "that I already had someone to get me a drink." 

Tommy and Arthur walked up behind John before Arthur passed him to sit beside you and Tommy looked at Roy over John's shoulder. 

"Where's Liz off to?" Arthur said, his arm slung over your shoulder as he took a drink. 

"She told me she was getting her own drink," you said evenly, meeting Tommy's hard eyes as he soaked in the situation. 

"Right," Roy said, seemingly snapped out of his daze. "It looks like you have proper company. Nice to meet you."

"John," Tommy said, eyeing Roy's departure, "Go find Lizzie." 

"Right," John said with a grin. "Let's hope she's not threatening to cut off a man's balls, too."

Arthur laughed. Tommy stiffly took the seat beside you, both hands holding drinks. You sipped yours and returned to watching the crowd, all too aware of how close you were next to Tommy. 

Tommy quickly downed the first drink before putting the empty glass near the foot of the couch. You looked over at him curiously.

"How were you to cut off balls without a knife, (Y/N)?" He rumbled, drinking from his second glass slower.

"Who says I didn't have a knife, Tommy?" You said with a raised brow.

He hummed, running the glass across his lip before taking another drink. Arthur finished his drink and stood up to get another. 

You had gotten used to an arm around you and shifted in your seat, growing anxious without the weight to ground you. You shook as you looked around, untethered while the rest of the party buzzed around you. A couple took the other side of the couch and it only unnerved you more.

You looked over at Tommy, who watched you silently, taking in your every movement with his cool blue eyes. You watched him claim a cigarette and matches from his pocket with his empty hand and give you his matches. He looked at you expectantly but didn't say anything.

You wrapped your fingers around a match and pressed it against the box, sparking a flame and letting it lazily caress the cigarette between his lips until it caught fire. 

Tommy leaned into the corner of the couch with his drink in hand and his other arm on your shoulder, pulling you into his chest until you were draped over him. He reached around you, pulled the cigarette from his mouth, and blew the smoke above you both. 

"You're shaking," he whispered into your ear. "Relax. And for fucks sake behave from now on." 

You found yourself melting into his side, grateful for the touch. You people watched with him in comfortable silence until John returned with Lizzie on his arm and Arthur and the host in tow.

"Tommy!" The man said cheerfully, his cheeks much redder than before. "I found your entourage, but it looks like you snuck away for a moment's silence. I'm ready to talk business in my office if you are."

"I'm always ready for business," Tommy said, giving you a small squeeze before ushering you both to your feet. 

"Great!" The man said. "Follow me."

The man turned to lead and Tommy rested his hand on your hip, pulling you beside him to follow. Lizzie scowled and burrowed into John's side as you passed. You slowed a step but Tommy's hand pressed into your hip to urge you forward at his side.

The man led your group to a study before and sat behind a large wooden desk. He pulled a decanter of alcohol from a cabinet, pulling out four glasses with it. He waved to the three seats in front of him. 

Your boys took the three wing-back seats and Lizzie sat upon the arm of Tommy's seat in the middle. You decided to look at the library of books along the wall. 

You heard them all talk, but you mostly paid attention to tone rather than words. You ran your fingers along the books and noticed most of them sounded scientific or mathematical in nature. A lot had to do with statistics. You froze as the tone shifted in the room. You looked over your shoulder with your hand still on the bookcase when you heard John call your name.

"Come sit over here, little bird," John said, using Harry's nickname for you, and patted his knee with a smirk. "You're making our friend nervous."

You smiled shyly and walked over to John before pausing above him. He patted a knee of his splayed legs again. You gritted your teeth before sitting on his right knee, your legs in between his and your hip against the arm of the chair. His hand wrapped around your waist and rested on your thigh as the conversation started again. 

You tried to focus on the conversation about horses in front of you, but you felt John's hand loosen it's hold on your leg and move to play with the beading at your left shoulder. You turned slightly and shot him a look to stop but his eyes were intent on your skin. 

John's brows furrowed and he tried moving the beading off your shoulder. You shrugged him off and whispered a hiss at him. He stopped for a moment and nodded for you to look ahead. You paused before doing so, feeling him lean forward behind you. 

You froze in place when John slid his hand under the strap and it fell down your shoulder. You eyed Arthur and Tommy as John nuzzled your bare shoulder and pressed his lips to it. Arthur ran his tongue over his teeth in his closed mouth as he watched John. Lizzie perched on Tommy's chair smirking at you. 

Tommy's jaw ticked but he didn't look over to you two once in his conversation. You slowly pressed your heel into John's instep until he hissed against your skin and moved the strap back onto your shoulder. 

You closed your eyes, knowing full well what he discovered. Your tattoo. Even when you had gone swimming with him in the dead of night, clothes thrown to the edge of the pond, you had always been careful not to show him your shoulder. You hadn't worn low back dresses in years. You were sure people thought it was for modesty, but in truth you didn't want to show the world that you had a tattoo. You loved it, but it was for you and you knew how society treated tattooed men. You didn't want to be seen as a freak for your own.

You sat still as stone for the rest of the meeting, and John returned his hand to your lap. You could feel his cocky grin behind you and you fumed at the blatant disrespect of boundaries.

When the business wrapped up, the men all shook hands and said their pleasantries and you all were ushered back into the party. When the host drifted off, you twisted in John's arms and smacked this chest.

"Don't you ever touch me like that again," you growled, trying to keep your voice down. Tommy and Arthur moved between you two and glared at you both. 

"What was that?" Arthur said and glared at John. 

"Our (Y/N)'s marked," John said, licking his lips as he eyed you. "And it's not fresh. How many more surprises are you hiding under there?"

"Marked?" Arthur said, looking at you in confusion. "Like a tattoo? How'd you find someone to give you that?"

"You can find them," you said shortly. "This isn't about my tattoos, this is about you" you jabbed your finger at John's chest, "not respecting me. You have a wife."

"More than one, eh? The only way to get a good look at your shoulder was to play into what I'm seen as, innit?" John said and laughed. "No one asks when ol' John boy gets frisky. They continue on with business, and now I know your secret."

John's eyes sparkled as you pressed your lips into a thin line. Tommy watched you two closely for a moment before he stepped directly in between you. 

"Right," he said, causing you both to step back to give him the space between. "We've done what we came here for. I would have said let's enjoy the party but no one can fucking behave long enough. We're done here, let's go home."

Lizzie laughed and Tommy raised a finger at her.

"You're not innocent, Liz," Tommy said, glaring at her. "Now let's get the fuck out of here."

You all followed Tommy out of the house like scolded children. A boy brought the car around and you all went back to the seats you had before. 

The car was quiet. John was all too happy with himself beside you; Arthur looked bothered but confused as he drove and Tommy watched you too closely through the side window as you looked out into the dark.

"(Y/N)," Tommy said, breaking the silence as the car turned into the road from the long driveway, "what is your tattoo of?"

"It's not a branding or an allegiance, Tommy," you said combatively, hugging yourself. "I wanted it. Thought it was pretty. It's only meant for me."

"And what is it?" Tommy pressed, growing agitated. You glared at him through the side mirror.

"That's between me and whoever falls in my bed, innit?" You shot back. 

"And me," John said teasingly. "Do I get to fall in your bed tonight, (Y/N), or are we still worried about Esme?"

You elbowed him hard in the ribs and he doubled as he clutched his side. 

"And here I thought you were a good girl with bad company," Arthur said. "Turns out you have some secrets, don't you little bird?"

"A knife and a tattoo all in one night," Tommy mused. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Not my fault you got more than you bargained for," you said. "Isn't King Tommy supposed to have us all figured out, like? With his big brain?"

You stared defiantly at Tommy and he regarded you back. The ride was a quiet standoff between you and him the rest of the way. Lizzie scowled out the window the entire ride. When Arthur dropped her off she left the car without a word and went into her apartment without looking back. 

You touched the door handle and opened your mouth to tell them you'd walk home from there when Tommy interrupted.

"Get out, I'll take (Y/N) home myself," Tommy said. 

Arthur and John both started to protest. Tommy raised a hand, quieting them.

"I need a talk with our little bird," he said. 

You let go of the handle as if it burned you and shrunk next to John in the back seat. He instinctively wrapped his arm over your shoulder.

"Tommy," Arthur protested. 

"Out," Tommy said again before he opened his door and then yours. 

"Night, John boy," you said softly as you unwrapped yourself from him to get out of the car. 

"You haven't called me that in weeks," he murmured surprised. "Night, (Y/N). You'll be fine. Tommy's just being Tommy." 

John eyes softened and he placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. You got out of the car and moved around Tommy to sit in the passenger seat. Tommy closed both doors.

John and Arthur reluctantly got out and moved aside as Tommy sat in the driver's seat. You could see John worrying his lip as they both watched as Tommy turned the ignition and drove you both down the road. 

He drove until the brothers were out of sight, and then took a turn that was opposite of your home.

"I have a hard time placing you, (Y/N)," Tommy said, breaking the silence. "There are times you're strong and about men's business. And in the next moment you're young. Too young."

"Why can't I be both?" You ask.

Tommy didn't answer, instead he looked off into the distance and nodded. 

"Why do you lock us all out of that head of yours?" You asked, knowing you wouldn't get a true answer. You passed a bridge and he slowed and moved to the side of the road and parked.

"I let someone clear out that which needs clearing out," he said stiffly, looking through his pockets for a cigarette. 

"I'm not talking about Lizzie," you said gently. He stilled for a moment before continuing his search for a match. You pulled the matchbox from earlier out of your clutch and lit one and held it out for him.

"Why do you two hate each other?" He asked as he leaned over to light the cigarette and returned his gaze to you as he inhaled the smoke.

"We don't," you said quickly. "Or at least I don't hate her. I think in a way," you said as you blew out the match and fidgeted, "we both know there's only so many spaces for women in the Blinders, and we're not Shelby, so we've only so many places to fit."

"Insightful," Tommy said more to himself than you, "but young."

"I'm not that much younger," you grumble as he opened his door. "John and Ada's age."

"Young enough," he said and stepped out of the car. "Let's sit by the water and talk."

You got out and numbly followed him to the waterside, feeling the cool night air on your skin. Tommy laid his coat down on the bank and motioned for you to sit. You both looked at the water in front of you. 

"You was awful cuddly with John tonight," he said finally. 

"You told us nothin' of what we was doing and I was leaning on my friend to help me," you retorted. "You also saw me put him in place when I thought he was crossing the line--"

"When did you stop trusting me, (Y/N)," Tommy interrupted crossly. "Because most of this night taught me you don't. The knife." 

He scoffed.

"Was used for its purpose when I was left behind," you retorted, turning to him in anger. 

"Could have ruined us," he hissed. 

"Don't dangle me like a prize and I won't have to defend myself," you hissed back. "Maybe I stopped trusting you when King Tommy decided no one was smart enough to know his plans."

"Drop the king bit," he snapped. 

"Or what, Tommy?" You sneered. "You'll teach me my place? What is my place, Tommy, or do you not know yourself?"

"You are the most aggravating girl in bloody Birmingham," he said under his breath.

"Says the biggest git--" 

Tommy's hand swung around and grabbed your jaw forcefully and his whiskey-heavy lips crashed into yours before you could process. His kiss took every bit of air out of your lungs and you fought your head as you kissed him back hungrily. Your tongues fought each other for dominance as his grip on your jaw tightened and pushed you away. 

"What's your tattoo, (Y/N)?" He said testily as he looked you in the eye. 

"What's this, Tommy?" You snapped back defiantly. 

Tommy growled and let go of your chin with a jerk of his hand. 

"So fucking young," he growled. 

He stood up and dusted his pants off. 

"Let's get you home," he said finally. 

You glared up at him, watching him put his blank face on like armor. The window closed for seeing into Tommy Shelby's mind. 

"Sure, Tommy," you scowled. "Let's just pretend this never happened, too, eh? Like you haven't tasted my lips."

You stood up and stomped off to the car, slamming the door closed as you collapsed onto the passenger seat. You crossed your arms and looked over, gathering a terrible idea. 

You slid over and placed the shift between your knees like you had sat when Finn drove the day before. 

Tommy slowly made his way up the waterbank, new cigarette in his mouth as he opened the door and got in. He looked at you with a raised brow when your shoulder bumped with his, but quickly rolled his eyes and started the car. You looked forward out of the window, arms crossed, trying not to look at him as he grabbed the shift and slammed it to first gear. His hand stayed on the shift stick the entire painfully quiet ride to your home. Neither of you would fold. You could feel his eyes on you at times but you refused to look at him.

Tommy parked the car in front of your home and turned it off. You moved to get out of the car but Tommy's warm hand dropped from the shift to your thigh as he blew out a breath in frustration.

"I didn't like it," he growled as you froze. You refused to respond or turn to him.

"You was awful cuddly with John tonight and I didn't like it," he growled with a clenched jaw.

You looked down at your lap as he let go of your leg and you nodded tightly. You slowly leaned to the door and opened it, letting yourself out into the night and into your warm apartment. You didn't breathe until you locked the door behind you.

[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU Pt. 7 (1...6)

tw: general Howard Stark warning

----

So, here’s the thing.

Peter meant to ask May about the letter the night he got it back from Tony, He really did. But then everyone was in such a good mood, he couldn’t bring himself to shatter that to satisfy his own curiosity.

So then he meant to ask the next day.

And he tries, he really does.

But the letter feels as heavy as an anvil in his desk drawer and Peter is too nervous to ask about it. Something always comes up or he gets too scared to shatter the image of the good, obedient nephew he is, one who doesn’t go rifling through mail not addressed to him, prying into personal business.

So he flusters and stumbles pretty badly for the first couple attempts. He changes topic quickly, pretending like he was going to ask about something else, asking himself where exactly his business ends and where his curiosity begins.

Once during a gymnastics comp he stopped mid routine to check on a rival who had fallen from the rings and injured themselves. His coach asked when he was going to stop being a goddamn martyr.

He shakes the Magic 8-Ball on Monday morning and asks the universe if it’s an appropriate time to approach May.

Reply hazy, try again.

Well, that’s not what his flagging courage had hoped for. He shakes it again.

Ask again later.

One more time, harder.

Better not tell you now.

“What the hell,” he whispers, placing it haphazardly upon where he took it. “That’s bullshit.”

“What’s with the potty mouth,” May asks suddenly from behind him. He turns as she’s affixing some dangling earrings to her ears. “What’s wrong, kiddo?”

“Nothing,” he sighs. “Just - do you have a minute?”

She checks her watch. “I have about forty seconds. Is something wrong - are you okay?”

“No - I mean yes, I’m okay. Are...are you?”

“Top of the world, bubby,” she scoops her keys from the bowl, approaching him with a curious expression. “Why do you ask?”

There’s no easy way to ask without blatantly admitting to going through her things, and the last thing he wants her to think is that she can’t trust him.

“I just mean. If you weren’t. If there was something wrong, you would tell me, right?”

“Of course,” her face falls. “You’re acting strange, Pete.”

“I just worry, that’s all.”

You’re all I have left, is what loops over and over in his mind, but doesn’t say. She seems to hear it anyway, rushing forward and kissing his forehead, her perfume filling his nose.

“Everything is fine, bubs. The second it isn’t, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Okay.”

“I gotta go, but stop worrying okay? That’s my job. You have a good day.”

She hurries to scoop up her handbag and closes the door before he’s broken out of his thoughts long enough to reply. He sighs and shakes the stupid ball again before he leaves as well.

Cannot predict now.

Of course.

Just for once he’d like fate to be firmly on his side.

---

Something smells weird.

It’s sharp, chemical and not entirely unpleasant. Noticeable, however, sharp enough to cut through the usual musty smell of the library. It’s like apple cider, but overpowers the usual library smell of old books and dust and pencil shavings, a scent Peter has long associated with study, solitude, and the easing of his anxious heart from a gallop to a steady stride.

It’s not a bad smell, just misplaced.

And Tony’s been acting strange all study period. Like, weirder than normal - and his resting state of normal is already ineffably frenetic and bewildering, so this was an entirely different carton of eggs.

Peter doesn’t exactly want to bring it up, they’re kind of on a tenuously peaceful truce, a silent lay down of arms, so to speak.

Well, as peaceful as a truce can be while they call each other all sorts of names and rib each other over literally any sign of weakness, but still. They have some sort of an understanding now, and it’s all relatively innocent, good natured banter.

Mostly.

Peter for sure could have done without being called fuck-face-mcgee upon entering the library, but he’s willing to let it pass. He was late, after all.

“Anyway,” Peter says, sitting across the table from Tony, “so I think if we removed the monthly gym membership, we’d have an extra sixty per month that could go towards other stuff.”

“Like what?” Tony’s face pinches.

“I don’t know, like a college fund?”

“Ridiculous idea. I need that membership,” Tony rebukes, shrugging his leather jacket off, hooking it over the back of the chair. “When else am I supposed to get a reprieve from you and the cabbage patch?”

“When do I get a reprieve? I’m the money-maker. When do I get my break from work and childcare?”

“At work. What are you, like an art teacher or something? Your whole day is like a rich, white woman's vacation. Parents don’t get a lunch break.”

“Right. I’m sure watching Dora and burping an infant is as hard as teaching a class of thirty.”

“Wow. So dismissive. I mean, if you were a good spouse, you would give your withered and weary husband a break from screaming babies and shitty diapers.”

“Mhmm. That would mean I’d have to do something nice for you, and that doesn’t sound like me.”

Tony shakes his head. “We’re getting a divorce as soon as Molly is old enough to pick me as the superior parent,” he points to Peter’s papers. “Put that in the notes.”

Peter closes his eyes and sighs, willing himself not to lean over the table and smack the other boy.

“You are not the superior parent. You’re the deadbeat that forgets to pick her up from school and day drinks.”

“And yet, she loves me the most. You’re just the breadwinner who comes home grumpy every evening. I’m the cool dad.”

“Fine, keep your druglord baby. I never wanted kids anyway.”

“Fine. I’m keeping the car.”

“I’m keeping the apartment.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

They snicker quietly in a rare moment of camaraderie before a lightbulb goes off in Peter's head.

“What if we used the membership, but cut costs elsewhere, like, cutting our own hair and stuff. We could save for a yearly holiday, go to the beach or something.”

“Florida! Disney, roadtrip, yes,” Tony clicks his fingers towards Peter, smiling wide. “Look at you getting all savvy. Call the judge, the marriage is back on.”

“You can’t go to Disney for a few hundred dollars, dumbass, that’s barely the price of admission,” Peter scribbles on his pad, making note of their ideas. “You ever been?”

“Nope.”

“Really?”

“Not even once.”

“That’s surprising. Isn’t that where all rich white people take their baby sociopaths to beat up their first mascot?”

“One, I was never a baby, I emerged fully grown, and two, could you imagine Howard Stark within a mile of the happiest place on earth? He’d have a fucking stroke,” his face changes like he’s had an epiphany. “Not a bad idea, actually.”

Peter doesn’t mention that he doesn’t personally know Howard Stark but is willing to take Tony’s assessment at face value. That being said, he can’t imagine Tony, now, voluntarily heading to Disney without coercion or the promise of copious quantities of alcohol. He’d probably smoke and cuss and scare away small children.

He mind lingers on that particular characterisation, and for a moment tries to picture what Tony looked like as a kid, if he was a chubby, toothless little brat, can’t help then imagining him with Mickey Mouse ears, gleefully running through his gigantic home, harried caretakers running after him.

He must have been the worst.

“I’ve never been further than Washington,” Peter offers, “but that was for AcDec, so it wasn’t like we got to see much.”

“You did Academic Decathlon?”

“Yep.”

“Ew, why would you do that to yourself.”

“I still do it. It looks good on college applications and it’s fun,” he shrugs. “I like it. I’m good at it.”

Tony’s hands cover his mouth, but it doesn’t stifle the rising apple of his cheeks or the mirth in his voice.

“I’m feeling so much second-hand embarrassment for you right now.”

“Shut up,” Peter huffs, kicking him under the table, satisfied when the other boy winces. He fails to smother his own wince when he gets a kick in return, right in the kneecap. “Nothing wrong with being an intellectual.”

“You’re a fucking nerd, four-eyes.”

“What about you?” Peter rolls his eyes, keen to change the subject. “Been outside New York?”

Tony shrugs, tapping his pen on the pad, looking anywhere but at him. “When I was younger I’d sometimes go on my dad's business trips to Europe or Japan or whatever. And we have a house in Malibu.”

“That sounds awesome.”

Tony snorts. He shuffles on his seat, sliding their notes over and making further amendments in quick strokes, the cheap pen spurting bright red ink over the paper like arterial spray.

“Oh yeah, it was a real blast.”

Spoiled brat.

“Are you going anywhere for Thanksgiving?”

“With my family?” Tony looks up. “No, I’d rather stick my head up a turkey’s ass. You?”

Without warning, Peter’s hand flies to cover his mouth, unable to  but snort at the imagery, He’s not sure if Tony just doesn’t get along with his family or if he’s still stuck in that churlish, ‘too cool to be around my parents’ stage of adolescence. It’s one the idiosyncrasies that would have annoyed Peter before, his ungratefulness of having a family that’s still alive would be just another thing for Peter to hate him for.

Now, he thinks, he’s beginning to parse out when Tony’s being sincere and when he’s  hyperbolic, finally recognising the latter as a mechanism to throw someone off a topic that makes Tony uncomfortable. He sees it - the warning lights and stop signs in barbed coding, wrapped up in dry wit and sarcasm.

Peter is like that sometimes, too.

And what the hell would Peter know about having a normal family.

“Yeah, actually, for once,” he says softly. “My aunt - not May - and uncle have a holiday home up north, so we’re staying with them over the long weekend.”

“S’cool. May’s family?”

Peter shakes his head. “Sort of - they’re not actually related, but May and Margaret have been best friends since college, so.”

“Is Margaret a babe, too?”

Peter throw a chewed-up pencil at him that he catches easily.

“Don’t be gross.”

“I’m not,” he throws the pencil back, overshooting and hitting the shelves behind them. “What are we talking, on a scale of haggard to hottie.”

“I don’t know, man. You seem to have questionable taste in the people you are attracted to.”

Tony grins crookedly, eyes shining with something Peter can’t decipher. “Ain't that the truth.”

“What’s the supposed to --” he stops himself, suddenly recognising what the strange scent was that he’d been picking up. “Wait - dude, are you wearing cologne?”

Tony’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he responds. “No,” he denies, just as the bell rings. “Oh, look at that, time to get to class.”

Saved by the bell.

“So, this is it,” Tony nods, shutting the lid of his laptop as the bell signals the end of their free period. “We’re done. The assignment. That’s the last of it, right?”

Dazedly, he watches Tony stuffing his laptop and notes into his backpack, brow creasing as his mind catches up.

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Send me your notes tonight, I’ll stitch them together with mine and send them back.”

“Okay,” he sluggishly collects his own notes, picking up the bag by his feet. “That’s - that’s good.”

“Well, Parker,” Tony slings his backpack on his shoulder, shuffling backwards, “we didn’t kill each other. I mean, not for a lack of wanting on my behalf.”

‘’Yeah, from Wednesday we’re free. We can go back to normal.”

“Yeah,” Tony’s grin fades. They stare at each other for a long moment that could have been seconds or hours, he doesn’t know, until the second bell rings.

“Hey, um --”

“I’ll send you the notes later,” Tony interrupts, sotto voce. “I gotta get to class. See you around.”

Something in his stomach deflates, sadly and slowly, like a balloon with a pinprick, emptying itself until it’s an uncomfortably hard to digest crumpled mass at the base of his stomach. He pastes on a smile and looks out the window, hoping the feeling doesn’t show in his eyes.

That’s when he notices the leather jacket Tony has left behind, still slung over the back of the chair.

“You left your…” he trails off, turning back, but Tony is already long gone, probably already halfway to his next class. Like a bat out of hell, Peter thinks wryly, picking up the jacket, the leather smooth like butter under his touch, still warm around the collar where Tony’s had been leaning against it.

No good leaving it here to get stolen or be tossed into lost property. He decides to take it with him, folding it gently over his arm. He’ll give it back when he sees him again, maybe after school.

“Nice jacket, Parker,” Flash says approvingly when Peter bumps into him out in the hall.

At first he thinks he’s referring to Peter’s ratty hoodie, and it confounds him for a moment because it’s decidedly not nice, but then he realizes he’s referring to the leather in his arms.

“It’s not mine,” he replies a little too late, because Flash is already down the hall, out of earshot.

Peter sighs. It’s beginning to become a depressing theme.

---

The weird feeling in his chest doesn’t subside all afternoon, and into the evening Peter is starting to think maybe he just has indigestion, like acid reflux or something. Must be the chilli surprise from lunch. Maybe he’d missed his meds.

He sends his portion of the final notes to Tony’s email, turns off his computer and switches on Colbert.

---

It’s not until hours later, well after midnight and the infomercials are playing, only then does his phone buzz against his thigh with a response.

Figures that Tony would be a night owl like him.

> soz was distracted > youtube spiral

Peter shifts downwards on the bed, holding the phone over his face. < s’ok  < what were you watching  > say yes to the dress  < lmao really > lol no > anyway, looks good. ur notes > will print off for u to sign tomorrow < is that a compliment or an admission u were wrong about me 

> neither. One subject does not a genius make  > unlike me, an actual genius

In your dreams, dipshit, he wants to type, but doesn’t, not really keen to provoke a muddy discussion on who is the smartest (it’s definitely Peter).

< u left ur jacket in the library btw, I have it, he texts instead, his pulse jumping when Tony replies with crying emoji’s.

Tony sends him a snap, unexpectedly, a sad face that makes Peter snort. His face seems distressed, the caption reads, thought i lost it for good.

Shifting down further on the bed, he’s feeling suddenly and inexplicably courageous, fire burning up from his belly button to his fingers.

Peter takes a silly photo of himself and sends it back. > didn’t want it to get stolen < aw u care

“I do not,” he whispers to himself.  > i do not. come collect it after school tomorrow or im throwing it out. < u wouldn’t do that to me > there’s a lot of things i would do 2 u  > ....  > um  > lol 

 Peter’s face flames at the implication. He reads over what he just so carelessly typed, stomach positively knotted with embarrassment. Oh god, that is not what he meant. His fingers fly over the screen at record speed as he types out a response. < NOT LIKE THAT < I MEANT IT IN A THREATENING WAY < I’M LITERALLY GAGGING > yikes > ur dirty talk needs work < no it DOESN’T bc we’re not sexting > sure jan > damn. didn’t kno u had it in u bubs < i don’t have it in me > not yet > ;)

Despite the deep blush still heating his face and his heart galloping in his chest, a laugh breaks out of him. The phone in his hand vibrates again. > jk jk, not ever > need to bleach my brain now 

Slowly gliding back to earth he types out a response. < ikr me too < ugh.

He puts his phone down on the bed, looking up at the water-stained ceiling, amusement slowly fading. His pulse though, that doesn’t return to normal.

How could it when his mind suddenly runs away from him, evoking short-lived, but nonetheless strikingly vivid images of intertwined legs, planes of pale skin, and lush lips. How can the heat in his stomach escape when his thoughts conjure phantom sensations of a soft mouth sucking on his neck, the punishing grip of hands on his hips and the warmth and weight of another body on top of his own.

A forehead leaning against his, brown eyes that knocked his pulse off kilter.

The taste of nicotine.

Stop it.

That is dangerous territory right there. And a line he doesn’t want to cross.

Shaking his head, Peter swings his legs over the side of the bed and sits up, looking anywhere for a distraction; his window, the posters on his wall, his figurines on his shelves, anything to douse the low-burning fire in his gut.

Standing, he heads to the bathroom to get ready for bed, banging their crappy old heater with his fist to get it working again.

He takes a very cold shower.

----

It’s not that Peter doesn’t enjoy sex.

Not that he’s had it.

But he enjoys jerking off, at least. Like a regular amount, whatever that is for a teenage boy. He likes kissing. Likes thinking about one day being in a real relationship and exploring someone's body and he likes exploring what turns him on and what he doesn’t.

It’s just that he doesn’t let himself think of anyone he knows personally that way, no matter how conventionally attractive they are - not Thor, and especially not him.

Typically, his fantasies are people with vague features, sometimes with bodies like those he has seen in porn, all shapes and sizes. And that’s safe for him.

He doesn’t want to have to look anyone he knows in the eye and wonder what their lips would feel like pressed against his own. If they’re any good at kissing. If they’re the type to take control or cede it.

He does wonder, sometimes though. No matter how much he denies what or who he wants.

Because it doesn’t matter if it’s a person or a thing. Want is never superficial in his experience, it doesn’t feel good most of the time. It’s deep and sometimes dark, it sinks itself into him with its hooks and it tugs, and keeps tugging. It yields to craving and yearning.

Back in his bedroom, his eyes land on his wall-mounted mirror. It’s small. Like the Mona Lisa. Small enough that he doesn’t have to see his whole reflection if he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t want to crave and yearn for anybody, because he knows it will always be one sided. He’s well aware that he isn’t exactly centrefold material.

Who is gonna look at his weird ears or thin lips, and think, shit, that’s the guy of my dreams. Not with his big glasses or the way his hair twists itself into frizzy, unruly curls once the gel wears off and he starts looking like an unkempt labradoodle.

Who would want to wake up next to him? No one.

So it’s better not to risk imagining anyone real. It’s only in his head that anyone could ever want him back.

His eyes go from the mirror to the jacket folded and placed on his desk. It was intended to be plain sight so he remembers to bring it in - out of sight, out of mind, is what Ben would say. He can still smell the cologne Tony denied wearing earlier.

Once he’s in bed, he turns to face the wall.

Out of sight, out of mind.

---

Maybe Tony subscribes to that mantra as well.

Peter forgets to bring the jacket in all week and Tony doesn’t ask.

---

Danvers wants him fit and ready to be harpooned into the mud by next week; that’s why she looks the other way when Thor and Peter take their informal training in the boundaries of the field, stretching out on the grass as the JV team runs their usual morning drills - drills Peter would have been a part of before his stupid injury and his stupid wrist-brace.

This school is stupid too. Now he has to pay to see a doctor so he can get medically cleared for a sport he doesn’t really care that much about.

Like he didn’t have enough medical bills to deal with.

In any case, he’s not really in a position to complain, because he has the opportunity now to run through his warm-up with Thor, who is taking his direction to spread his legs into a butterfly position so beautifully, even as his knees raise from the ground to make a v-shape, whereas Peter’s lie flat on the grass.

If the last few days had been different, he might have blushed and used the situation at hand as an opening to place his hands on Thor’s knees and applied pressure. But now he just smiles encouragingly and reminds himself that he has no chance - no place - and his hands do not belong anywhere but his own body.

And surprisingly enough, he’s okay about it all.

Thor was a good guy. Peter will never say no to having more friends.

It’s a dreadful, bitter morning. Icy cold, wind biting into his shirt, the grass below them is damp. He has to keep rubbing his hands together so he can restore feeling in his fingers.

To make things worse, Tony is back on the bleachers. White v-neck, jeans and dark sunglasses. Sprawled out over a set of steps, legs askew, arms behind his head, unmoving as if he were napping or sunbathing, appearing like a cocky main out of an eighties movie.

Or a king surveying his kingdom.

Rhodes and Potts slouch on either side of him, swapping phones over his idle figure, taking pictures and laughing amongst themselves.

“It burns,” Thor says lightly, hands on his thighs in an attempt to aim his knees to touch the ground.

“Yeah,” Peter agrees, despite the ease in which he can lean in. “It just takes practice, dude. Twenty minutes a day, warm up and don’t over-do it. You’ll be limber in no time.”

“You can do this better than I can,” Thor argues, accent thick as he tries to lie flat like Peter.

“And you can lift a hundred pounds better than I can,” he tries to rebut, even as they switch positions, hip flexors aching with old injuries.

While the stretches are like second nature, he doesn’t miss the pressure of training for competition. The eagerness to get into a flat butterfly or oversplit. There was no argument that he spent nights on crunches back then, and he was somewhat toned - but he was shit at weight training. He hated lifting. Reps were more boring, more tedious and difficult and the diet required to give them any value was frankly not worth giving up a great hotdog or a loaded sub from Delmars. He wouldn’t go back to it now.

None of that old heat is there when he inspects Thor’s form. That quick simmer, the call to be closer. That terrible thing, want. All but gone. awe is still there, as he suspects it always would be with someone as outstanding as Thor, but the butterflies have very much flown away.

As he suspected would be the case. He has someone and they’re happy. With the cat out of the bag Thor had shown Peter pictures of his boyfriend all morning. He’d gotten a puppy, apparently, which just tickled Thor. He was so happy it was almost sickening.

When is it gonna be him that sickens someone with photo’s of his partner?

“Hey, Parker,” Tony yells from the stands, “you suck!”

Looking over, the idiot is raised on his elbows and grinning, like he’s proud of himself for a spectacularly unoriginal insult.

Rolling his eyes, Peter gives him the finger and he gets one in return.

His stomach twists and he has to duck his head to conceal his smile.

“Your husband is somewhat rude,” Thor says, following Peter’s example and switching from a pike to a lunge.

Peter looks back over to the stands. A cigarette now dangles between Tony’s full lips, sunglasses slid to the tip of his nose.

That’s how Peter knows he’s looking at him too.

Even from afar his eyes are round and mirthful, framed with ridiculously long lashes like a cartoon mouse, far too outlandish for any real person to have.

“He’s the absolute worst,” Peter bites his bottom lip, quickly averting his gaze. “It was an arranged marriage, to be fair.”

---

Wednesday comes and goes.

Their assignment gets handed in, Peter signs it off to say he did his fair portion of the work and Miss Ahn beams at the both of them when she is handed the thick binder, looking all too pleased with herself.

They have a presentation of their work next week, after Thanksgiving, each pair expected to give five minutes of their life pretending that they’re passionate about schoolwork in front of their fellow students who don’t care.

After that they are completely unburdened. No study sessions, no car rides, and no fries dipped in milkshakes.

They’re embarrassingly hailed as a prime example of people working through their differences, as if they had come together and were now friends or something.

From the front row Tony sneaks a furtive glance at Peter when she applauds them to the class.

“See, kids,” she says, “it wasn’t so bad working together, was it?”

Their eyes meet briefly.

“Zero out of ten, would not do again,” Tony declares, brash and loud, kicking his combat boots onto his desk in a leisurely display.. “That guy is the human equivalent of watching paint dry. Awful.”

“Oh, come on,” she chides. “Be nice.”

Not one to be outdone, Peter lets his horse out of the gate too.

“Singular worst experience of my life. I once had a root canal without anaesthetic and it was less painful than working with him.”

“Alright, boys, that’s enough out of you,” Miss Ahn sighs deeply, walking to the front of the room. “Mr Lang, how did you find the assignment?”

“Very informative…”

From the front row Tony turns in his seat and winks at him.

----

“Thanksgiving plans?” Natasha asks, leaning beside his locker, smothering a smile as he struggles to get his locker open for the nth time that day with one functional hand.

“Visiting my Aunt and Uncle,” he says, finally prying the damn thing open. “They’ve got a place up at Otisco Lake, so. Probably watching old movies and swimming all weekend.”

“Oof,” his friend winces. “That’s a trip. Think the May-Mobile will make the distance?”

The May-Mobile of course to the ancient, ‘89 Volvo 240 that May has been driving ever since Peter was born. She adores it and refuses to trade in, despite the fact that it rarely gets driven, practically haemorrhages gas, and has cost more in repairs in the last five years than the actual value of the car. But May really loves it. It's sentimental. She says it was the car Ben and her picked out together.

“It better make it,” he dumps his books in, closing the locker. “I don’t want to spend the weekend waiting for AAA in the middle of nowhere. What’s your plans?”

She shrugs, walking with him down the hall.

“Probably go and annoy Yelena. Was supposed to spend it with Bucky and his mom, but that ain't happening.”

He bumps her shoulder sympathetically. “Do you think you two will get back together?”

“Probably. But he’s got a shitload of grovelling to do first.”

“Don’t maim him, please. We need him on the team.”

“No promises.”

“Speak of the devil,” Peter adjusts his glasses, spotting Bucky at the base of the stairs talking to somebody. He gets startled, heart jumping when Natasha grabs him by the waist, pushing him towards the wall and inching them closer to the stairs.

“What are you --”

“ -- Shh, I want to listen. Who is he talking to?”

Craning his head, he finds himself in for another surprise when he sees that the other person he’s talking to is --

“He’s… he’s talking to Stark - what...?”

She shushes him again and Peter listens, curious now too.

“... what do you want, Barnes?” Tony visibly grimaces, taking a cigarette from his pocket and tucking it behind his ear. “Make it quick. I got places to be and your noxious stench gives me headaches.”

An announcement goes off over the loudspeaker over their head, calling for Brendon Bennett, a dick of a senior, to move his car from where he has blocked a teacher from leaving. It would be funny at any other time, but as it goes, he misses a chunk of their conversation.

“...Rogers isn’t the boss of me.”

“Yes, he is, and I’m not getting suspended again because you’re a pussy and he has roid-rage.”

“I just need an ETA. C’mon, pal, I really need this.”

“I’m not your pal and I don’t give a flying fuck what you need.”

Ever the easy going guy, Bucky puts his hands up placatingly as a group of students file down the stairs, causing enough noise that Peter misses whatever is said next. As he strains to hear he tries to draw the line between the dots, but comes up short on exactly how these two are connected.

“That fucker,” Natasha mutters near his ear.

By the time the students clear, Tony’s descended the stairs and begun to walk away

“I have better things to do than to sit around and wait for you,” Bucky calls out, giving him the finger.”

“And yet you will.”

Not in any possible lifetime was Peter going to address that he was weirdly relieved that Tony didn’t flip him off in return, some part of him petulantly thinking that’s our thing, but that’s wrong - Peter and Tony are not friends and they do not have things, even when they do, it’s not like a thing thing.

Nat grips his hand and pulls him along when Bucky leaves as well, swiftly walking away to avoid being caught. His backpack jostles at the speed and he realizes he’s still clutching Tony's jacket from where he had retrieved it from his locker.

“What was that about?” He asks, struggling to keep up with his friend's furious pace as he’s led down the hall. “Tash?”

She drops his hand once they are outside, her disapproval near palpable, voice laden with fire and fury.

“That’s Bucky being a world class idiot, he’s gonna get himself expelled, I swear.”

Peter stops on the spot.

“Expelled?”

Something dark curls unpleasantly in his gut, heavy and not leaving.

“They have a thing,” she explains hotly, mouth turning down. “Bucky and Stark.”

“What?” Peter breathes, uncomfortably thinking back to the party and the way Bucky overtly complimented Tony’s body. “Like a.... like a sex thing? Did he cheat on you?”

“What? No.”

“Then what?”

Red strands whipping in the wind, his friend looks around to see if there is anyone nearby before leaning in to speak low. He leans in too, unabashedly curious.

“Do you remember when Bucky was having issues with his parents when school started?”

He nods, thinking back to the times Bucky slept over in the late days of summer and early weeks of the school year, once or twice a week to get away from the shouting in his own home.

Natasha continues.

“Don’t tell him I told you this, but he got really depressed and fell behind with his work and everything he was handing in was terrible. Danvers pulled him up and said if he didn’t get his grades up, he’d be risking his spot on the team. So Bucky paid Stark to write up a few assignments for him, apparently he was doing it for a few kids, like it was a thing.”

...Okay.

That was not good, and definitely disappointing, but -

“Rogers found out. He gave Bucky a warning, but with Stark he threatened to go to Fury.”

Peter thinks back to the fight between their captain and Stark and their fight not long ago. “That’s why they…”

“I’m told Stark snapped, but I don’t know. I found out about the whole paper thing after that and me and Buck fought about it. I just got so mad - he’s - he’s not stupid, you know?”

“I know.”

She exhales heavily through her nose. “He’s going to get himself kicked out of school and I’m so -- I could kill him. We’re supposed to graduate together and get away from our families and go to college, and then he does this.”

“I’m sorry, Tash, I didn’t know,” he hugs her, her body going stiff before relaxing in his hold. “That’s shitty. For both of you.”

“I’m sorry for thinking you were in on the loop.”

He smiles, self-deprecating.

“Nope, I’m as clueless as ever.”

“No, you’re just too good for that,” she shakes her head. “Look, I gotta go and blow off some steam. Please don’t tell anybody about all this.”

“I won't, I swear - but text me later, alright? Let me know you’re okay.”

She ruffles his hair before stepping back.

“You’re a bleeding heart, PP. Keep an eye on that, will you?”

Hearing a squeal of tyres, he whips his head around to the parking lot, the source of the noise. The Firebird squeals out of the lot and onto the road, the sound as angry, the glimpse Peter gets of Tony’s face, even angrier.

He turns back to Nat, but she’s already walked away. Which means she isn’t there to hear him mutter to himself.

“What are you getting into, Tony?”

----

His thumbs hover over his phone that night, as he writes i saw u with barnes today.

He quickly deletes that, not wanting Tony to think that he was following him or spying on him - or worse, thinking that Peter actually cares about what he does. He doesn’t. They’re not friends.

A dread settles in the spaces between his ribs, like thread trying to squeeze them together too tight, his lungs feeling compressed. Maybe it’s his asthma, or allergies.

It’s not and he knows it. He’s disappointed.

He rubs at his chest on his way home thinking about the scene they just saw and about what Natasha said. How is it that so many people in his orbit had this entire entanglement going on without Peter having any whiff of it? It really makes him wonder if they were they good at hiding it or was he just really fucking stupid. Stupid enough to think Bucky was doing okay, that Rogers wasn’t as sanctimonious as he appeared to be, and that Tony was --

Nevermind.

It’s none of his business and it’s not his place.

He knows better than to ask. It’s not as if he can forget all his own secrets that he clutches tightly to his chest, so tight it feels like he constantly walks through life with his fists clenched.

That and, like May, the real truth is that he can’t claim any entitlement to their trust. He eavesdropped in more ways than one these last two weeks. He tries to brush off that dry, sobering thought; it’s none of his business anyway and he has enough on his plate without getting involved.

When are you going to stop being such a goddamned martyr.

So then he thinks about the sheer fury on Tony’s face, how his - how he used to look at Peter the same way, and how Peter used to think that angry and bitter was Tony's default mood. That was that. The status quo.

Well, that wasn’t entirely fair, was it. It was easier to dislike Tony when he was distant enough that Peter could pigeon-hole him into a stereotype.

Because Tony got into fights, sure, countless and petty, but he was the guy who pet puppies and snuck them food under the table. Not the guy who kicked them.

He looked like the puppy that was kicked, though.

Not angry.

Wounded.

And that’s what confuses Peter. Turns out he doesn’t really know anything about his friends.

Or Tony, it would seem.

----

May closes the drivers-side door and throws a packet of snacks into Peter’s face.

“Pretzels.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he adjusts his glasses where they'd been knocked askew.

“Sorry, I thought your reflexes were better,” she says, and by way of apology, lobs a packet of sour gummies more gracefully on his lap. “Your favorite.”

“Apology accepted.”

From a plastic bag she fishes out two cokes and places them in the centre console, a bag of red licorice and crackers follow, also making their way onto his lap. She always buys too much food.

Then they’re turning back onto the highway that leads them out of where they paused at Monticello, the radio jacked up loud enough to be heard over the tiny droplets of raindrops sporadically hitting the windshield.

They’ve left early enough that it’s still dark.

Fog still hangs low on the roadside, intangible pale wisps that seem to disintegrate upon crossing, the road dotted with other travellers, but not too crowded, enough so they can easily cruise the speed limit and sometimes over. The Bangles play on a cassette tape and, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, May looks so carefree, driving her sentimental car with the noisy engine, singing along to the same cassettes she’s had since she was his age.

Peter can’t bring himself to say what he wants to. About the letters. One in particular. He knows something isn't right but who is he to break the peace?

So, he doesn’t and they keep driving.

The fog lifts and the tunes continue, both of them singing familiar tunes from ABBA to George Michael and Peter let’s go of what he can’t control and loses himself in the buoyancy of nostalgia - neither of them can carry a tune for shit and it’s funny, and when he rolls his window down he sticks his hand out to feel the frigid air, it’s the most free he’s felt in a long time.

Football and his after-school duties and everything else just drifts away with the wind, at least for this moment.

It was like when he was a kid. The route itself is mostly dark and dull, and this time without Ben, but their usual car games of ‘dollar every time you spot a windmill’ and ‘how many minutes until the next town’ are fun and easily pass the time. This will be another memory that he will gloss over with fondness, how even the boring roads will seem like rapture.

When the sky starts to turn from black to grey they stop for early breakfast at a diner just slightly off their trail in Windsor, both of them famished despite the hoard of snacks and in dire need of coffee.

The car is beginning to emit pale plumes of smoke from under the hood as they arrive at Davis Grove, Otisco Lake in the early morning. The sun rises low over the horizon, a slow ascent that turns the sky grey and brushes wriggling streaks of color over the lake.

The house is exactly as Peter remembers it.

Panels painted slate blue, brown-tiled roof. Two-storeys with a wrap-around porch and a private dock only a short distance away from the entrance. A swinging chair on the lawn that comfortably fits three and a half people.

It looks exactly as it did when Peter first came here as a kid, plucked straight out of his memories in perfect form, like it was set in a liminal space that time refused to touch. A piece comes back to his being at this moment, something that he didn’t know was missing.

Aunt Margaret is already standing at the door when the pull up. She doesn’t look a day older than when Peter last saw her years ago.

“Oh, look at you,” she coos, wrapping Peter up in a tight hug, curls brushing his cheek, “my darling little Petey-pie.”

“Hey, Aunt Margaret,” he returns the hug.

“You’re so tall now, let me look at you,” she holds him at arm's length, warm eyes roving over his form. “Oh my goodness, haven’t you grown a handsome young man? Last time we met you only came up to my shoulders and had braces.” She turns her attention to May. “Isn’t he handsome?”

His aunt nods, smiling at them, both women gravitating into a tight embrace. “It’s good to see you, Peggy. Thanks for having us.”

“Our pleasure. You look even more beautiful than the last time.”

“Oh, stop,” May releases her, wiping at her eyes. “Look who’s talking.”

She tilts her head to the porch and takes May’s duffle from where she has dropped it to the ground. “Come on you two, inside. We’ve got the fire going and scrambled eggs on the table.”

Inside it smells like the best parts of his childhood. A burning fire and butterscotch and lingering musky-but-floral scent from the bowl of potpourri high on the mantel. Even the sounds are the same, the same coo of early birds in the burgeoning daylight, someone humming by the stove.

Margaret leads them into the living room, where her husband meets them halfway from the kitchen, oven mitts still on his hands when he spreads his arms wide to welcome them.

“My goodness,” he beams, “look what the cat dragged in.”

He wears a cravat at the same time he wears an apron, looking every bit the formal yet whimsical man Peter remembers him to be and a crushing wave of nostalgia comes over him so suddenly he can’t help but rush forward and embrace him.

“Welcome, Peter. It’s so good to have you here.”

“Thanks for having us, Uncle Ed.”

“What have you taught him,” he points his query to May as he releases Peter to hug her. “You know you can call me Jarvis.”

---

Margaret ‘Peggy’ Carter and Edwin Jarvis had been young twenty-somethings when they first met. Both were born in England before moving to the US, but it wasn’t until they met at Margaret’s first college that their paths crossed. They worked in different departments, Peter thinks Ed was an engineer or something and Margaret an analyst, but the universe pulled them together eventually.

Margaret asked Ed out first and then a year later, May was the maid-of-honor at their wedding and Ben was reportedly a teary guest in the squeaky church pews.

And the rest, as they say, was history.

A photo of that day sits framed upon the mantle. May and Margaret have their arms around each other, Uncle Ben and Ed standing awkwardly at the sides of the frame, holding up flutes of champagne.

They look so young. Happy.

Peter observes the photo, smiling. He would have been a baby back then. Before his parents and Ben had -- well.

His mind does these weird calculations sometimes. Like, the May in this photo is only nine or so years older than how old he is now, and this moment, suspended in time, makes them closer than they have ever been, even though in real life they are over twenty years apart.

Looking at this picture, it makes him wonder how many people he knows now will live full lives and die of old age. How many people his age will stay forever young, and who will be in the future looking back at their time now, wistfully staring at pictures of those who only exist suspended in that time.

It’s funny, being a teenager. His peers are too young to die so they assume they won't. Even in their twenties and thirties or forties, death seems like an elusive thing that doesn’t apply to anybody until it does. It’s for the decrepit, the sick.

But in Peter’s case death comes like poorly aimed darts, always landing badly and scoring low. In his pockets, his hands turn in fists. He hopes the three people left alive in this picture get to grow old.

He smells her perfume before he sees her. Margaret approaches, bumping their hips together.

“This was a nice day,” she says softly, wistful. “I wish we’d kept more contact over these last few years.”

“Me too,” he smiles sadly, her expression reflecting his. With a hand on his back she leads him to the couch.

“Come on, munchkin, come sit. Tell me how you have been.”

---

“We weren’t planning on the big dinner,” Uncle Ed says as he finishes peeling a potato, handing it to Peter once he’s done. “But we’re so glad you two joined us. Neither of us have a lot of family here, you know.”

“Us neither,” Peter runs the peeled potato under running water to rid it of dirty residue before chopping it into quarters. “It’s really nice to see you again, it’s been way too long.”

“You really have grown into such a nice young man,” the man smiles. “Ben would be proud. Your parent’s, too.”

“Thank you.”

They haven’t got together like this since Ben died a couple years back. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Shit happened and it got harder to try. May got busier with looking after Peter full time and working more - and Uncle Ed quit his job and opened up a garage and Margaret lost a baby - all at the same time.

It was a lot for everyone. Even college best friends moved apart when fate put up walls at every turn.

It seems everyone in his circle is just does their best to survive. Or maybe that’s just what growing up is.

The remainder of their morning is spent eyeing the oven and skedaddling while Margaret prepares her pecan pie, ejecting them out of the kitchen with a forceful shoo.

“May says you’re playing football,” Ed says, leading him out to the lounge, passing him a can of soda. “How’d that happen? Last I checked you were doing splits over a pommel horse.”

Peter shrugs, tapping his can with his fingernails, idly paying attention to the football on the old TV. “Needed an extra-curricular, there was an opening and for some reason they accepted me.”

“You were so good at gymnastics,” Margaret comments from the kitchen, whisking away at her bowl. “I’m sure you’re exemplary in anything you do. They’re lucky to have you.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, sculling back the rest of his drink, bubbles burning down his throat. “Looks good on college applications in any case.”

“This kid,” May points to him with her beer bottle. “He does it all, I don’t even know how. He’s brilliant.”

I could do more, he thinks. He wonders again in that moment what it is that makes him so deficient that May couldn’t rely on him to accept the truth about their situation, that maybe he was just too naive. But he’s not. He’d drop his after-school activities and get a job in a hot second if he thought it would help. And for just a split-second he’s mad about that, about being kept in the dark.

But then he sees the strain around her eyes, how the bottle in her hands trembles ever so slightly, how much she makes the hard world soft around them. And it’s easy for him to let that feeling go.

“You’re still freelancing?” Peter asks Margaret, momentarily distracted when Ed’s phone lights up with a call.

“Excuse me, terribly sorry,” he says suddenly, picking up the phone and answering it, rising to his feet to converse in the adjacent room.

“Yes,” Margaret says, eyes lingering over where her husband has gone, his voice carrying over the walls in worried, muffled tones. “Well, consulting. I can work from home, which makes it easier to take care of all my non-existent children,” she gestures to the empty room around them.

“You could go work with Jarvis,” May retrieves a new bottle, popping the cap. “Look after the books, help him replace tyres.”

“Tempting,” Margaret says dully, rolling her eyes. “Can’t understand why I haven’t done that yet.”

Jarvis re-enters minutes later, hands held out apologetically; whispering to Margaret first before he addresses the room.

“Um, we have another guest coming up for dinner, if that’s alright,” he winces at their blank faces. “He works for me. Has a difficult family arrangement and needs a bit of respite. You know how it gets over the holidays.”

Peter meets May’s eyes and shrugs. Anyone working under the business and is vouched for by his surrogate uncle is good by him.

“The more the merrier,” May raises her bottle.

After that, the kitchen needs his hands again.

---

The afternoon is spent preparing the sides, checking in on the truly gargantuan turkey and indulging their cat with nibbles and head scratches. May and Margaret spend the time drinking beer and cider, reminiscing their college years. It’s nice to hear the house full of laughter, given how somber the mood was when they were last all together.

“When did you get a cat?” Peter directs his question to Jarvis, accepting a peeler from him to attack the carrots.

The cat in question is completely black and delightfully plump, not overly so, but enough to indicate it’s decently fed but probably also a little lazy. Or maybe he just thinks that now that it lies tall on the peak on its scratching post, tail flicking idly while it watches them work tirelessly in the kitchen from above.

“Oh, about a year ago. Gives Peggy some company while I'm in the garage. She’s a sweetheart, this one.”

“What’s her name?”

“Friday the Thirteenth. Friday for short.”

“That’s, um, unique.”

“Was the day we adopted her,” Jarvis reaches up to scratch her. “And she’s a black cat, so, you know; spooky.”

Peter tilts his head to the side, considering it. “I like it.”

“Not bad, huh.”

“Yep. It’s a better name than Molly,” he mutters, shaking a slimy carrot shaving off his fingers.

Jarvis pauses. “As in Ringwald?”

Peter sighs and continues peeling.

----

“Did I ever tell you about the time May came to class in a bathing suit?”

“I don’t think they need to hear that --”

“So we have this exam,” Peggy says, ignoring May, “Super important. Fifty percent of our overall grade. She comes in late, dripping wet, the biggest hickey on her neck I have ever seen --”

“Peggy.”

“-- Only thing saving her modesty was Ben’s shirt over her shoulders. I had to lend her a pen so she could sit the exam.”

“Did you pass though,” Peter asks curiously, shovelling a large lump of mashed potato into his mouth.

“Top grades,” she winks at him.

“She sat there for two hours, dripping water onto the ground and got flying colors. Meanwhile I’m the idiot who studied for weeks and got marked down twenty points for --”

The end of her sentence gets cut off by the sound of a car approaching the property, headlights flashing through the windows.

Then, a knock at the door.

“Ah, that must be…” Ed trails off, wiping his hand on a napkin before standing. “Excuse me.”

He goes to answer the front door, Margaret continues her story albeit much more quietly until the voices of Ed and their guest filter through, becoming progressively louder.

“Sorry to intrude, I know it’s the holidays --”

Wait. That voice is familiar.

“Nonsense,” Ed interrupts, “you know you’re welcome anytime. You’re practically family, kid. Come in, we’re eating now, you’re just in time.”

Peter’s fork clangs loudly on his plate when he sees their visitor, unable to keep his grip on the utensil as his limbs start to tingle. He forgets how to breathe for a second, entire body going hot.

Ed’s arm is around Tony Stark and they’re approaching through the living room, heading right for them. There’s a fresh cut on his lip and an ugly, wreath of bruising around his jaw and neck, deeply purple, speckled spots of burst capillaries visible from even where he’s sitting.

The worst part isn’t the intrusion. It’s how Tony looks unlike himself; he looks small and skittish, gaze flicking nervously around the room, arms curled around his waist. Something in his chest starts to feel the closer he gets, weird, hot and unwieldy, burning, like a hot poker has been drawn across his sternum.

“You’re the best, Jar...vis,” Tony trails off when he spots the Parkers, eyes zeroing in on Peter.

“Um,” Peter says, sharing a surprised look with May, not knowing what else to say.

But then suddenly Tony is shaking his head, shrugging out of Ed’s embrace and backing up, the skittish look gone and replaced with anger.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. No fucking way.”

Then he turns, and leaves.

----

*

*

----

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @muse-of-gods, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @plueschpop, @spideravocados, @jellybbunny,  @booktrashme, @elfkido, @mycatislickingmybedsheets, @queerghostboyo, @disneyprincessdominatrix, @cherrygoldlove @starkerflowers@starkeristheendgame @thewolffearsher @starkersugar , @starkerforlife6969, @css1992, @parkerrbitch, @fuckmemrstark, @blankblankityblank, @ilovemoreid, @blaquedecember, @killmylonelysoul, @notfor-temporaryuse, @arvaen, @chaos-with-a-pen, @notnormallaura, @portiamarie02, @bloodymisanthropist, @ser-no-tonin, @staticwhispersinthedark

[weasleypogues]

newbie on set pt.2 (r.p)

so i got a lot of requests saying to do a part two so i hope u guys enjoy lol :) also!!!! i’m gonna put little twists on it here and there because it’s going to be like shes going into season 2 and sarah and john b are in the bahamas

read part 1 if you haven’t already :D

part 3 part 4

tag list for the series so far: ivebeenthinkingboutu nas-marie-loves-u k-k0129 

masterlist.

after a lot of preparation with fittings, readings, rehersals, and everything in between, you were finally shooting today. you and the cast had excitedly texted back and forth in the group chat but rudy made sure he also texted you on the side as he was eager to still get to know you.

you, madelyn, and madison sat in the makeup and hair trailer, gushing about the scenes you were shooting today and how excited you guys were to just be in south carolina and have fun like they did last year.

“did you see the tiktok i sent you?” madison asked madelyn, giggling and glancing at you because you were the once to convince madison to send it in the first place. madelyn glared at the two of you snickering, as she rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight back the giggle.

“yes! i did! i see them everywhere. ‘relax b john, i have a gutter, get you’re head out of the brother’ or ‘it’s not like i’ve never seen a gutter before, get your head out of your ass john b’, they literally fill up my page!” madelyn responded, laughing her ass off. you guys were referring to the hundreds of tiktoks that mocked that line in the first season. you threw your headback in laughter, tears coming out of your eyes. your hairdresser lola glared at you playfully and placed your head forward again because you kept interrupting her. you blew her a kiss in the mirror as a joke and she laughed.

“you guys are something else..” she trailed off, a huge smile upon her face. 

“are you nervous for today (y/n/n)?” madison turned to you and asked. you let your cheeks fill up with air before letting the breath out slowly, in deep thought. you hated to say it but you were literally terrified. you didn’t want to be the reason that a scene that should’ve taken maybe 60 minutes at most to shoot could take longer because you weren’t working to your full potential. “i’ll take that hesitation as a yes..”

“i just don’t wanna fuck up. like no one does, but if i did it on my first day it would be all i think about.” you responded, twidling with your thumbs.

“you did amazing at the table read and great at rehearsals, you’re gonna do great today.” madeyln smiled, reassuring you. “especially......because your first scene is with rudy today.” she smirked, sending a wink your way.

you felt your face grow hot and cowered in your seat slightly, but not enough that lola couldn’t continue working on your hair. you and rudy had been texting nonstop ever since you guys left the restaraunt after the first table read. you have to admit, he was very flirty but you always seemed to psych yourself out because you caught on that he was just an outgoing and friendly guy. but madison and madelyn snapped you back to reality that he wouldn’t play footsie’s with just anyone or constantly text them if it wasn’t something that crossed his mind. 

someone with an earpiece, walkie talkie, and clipboard walked onto the trailer saying that he needed you and madison for a scene. as sarah and john b were in the bahamas, you guys weren’t getting any scenes with them for a little while. you walked out of the trailer with string bracelets and other accessories practically covering your wrists, neck, and ankle to make you look more summer-y and pogue like. you walked towards where you guys were shooting a scene in the wreck and placed the apron around your body, talking to madison. 

“lady pogue! baby pogue!” you heard a familiar boy yell and you turned around to see rudy and jonathan. jonathan had on a green tshirt and grey cargo shorts, accessorized with a beaded necklace and a hat on backwards. you pulled him in for a hug first until he was pulled away suddenly. before you knew it, you were in rudy’s arms being given probably the best hug in the world. you giggled and looked up at him as you pulled away.

“you just couldn’t resist me, i get it.” you joked and raised your eyebrows. rudy laughed and let a smirk grow onto his makeup-bruised face.

“how’d you know?” he responded somewhat sarcastically. you rolled your eyes and pushed him away playfully, in doing so you admired his arms as he wore a white tanktop and backwards hat as well. 

“you guys ready to get started?” you all heard jonas yell out and you let out a deep, nervous breath and nodded. 

“you got this, (y/n).” madison reassured you, rubbing your arm lightly before the three of them got into their spots at a table at the wreck. you fixed your hair slightly, hiding your script from plain shot of the camera and tightened in apron that wrapped around your waist.

juliet walked towards the group of three pogues sitting at a picnic table at the wreck. she had just moved to the outer banks with her parents and brother for some business thing that involved her parents and real estate. however, whatever sum of money her family had didn’t stop her from finding a job and getting out to do her own thing. nick carrera was kind enough to give a sixteen year old girl with no restaraunt experience a shot at waitressing at the wreck. he said it wasn’t difficult and that his daughter, kiara, had fun. 

juliet had worked a couple of shifts with kiara and they had fun but juliet didn’t want to over step her boundaries. her next table to serve was kiara and her two friends, jj and pope? juliet couldn’t remember if that was their names or not. kiara had talked about them but said that it had been a couple of months since they’ve seen each other because they lost two friends at sea. juliet decided it was probably still a touchy subject and didn’t want to invade anymore in fear of upsetting kiara. 

however, kiara did mention that she had not seen pope or jj in a long time. juliet wasn’t sure if they had agreed to take some space or they drifted apart because of the lost friends. so when juliet saw kiara sitting at a table with two boys that fit the descriptions of her old friends, it clicked in her head. they looked like they were in a deep conversation and she thought maybe she should give them a second instead of interrupting them for a simple drink order. juliet shook her head to snap out those thoughts and walked up to the trio.

“hey kie, anything i can get for you guys to drink?” she built up the courage to ask, giving a small smile to the trio with her pen and paper in hand.

“just waters good for me, juliet. boys?” kiara started, sending a kind smile back to her. 

“same here.” pope brought up, fiddling with his fingers as it was clear they were in the middle of a deep conversation. juliet lowered her head to write on the paper and felt a wave of regret wash over her because she felt bad for interrupting the rekindling group.

“juliet? like romeo and juliet?” jj asked, looking at juliet with a small smirk on his face. juliet took a second to take in the fact that the blond kid in front of her face was bruised and cut up. he clearly fucked with the wrong people, probably kooks from old stories kiara had told her on break one day. juliet nodded with an awkward smile.

“like shakespeare intended.” juliet responded, fixing her hair slightly as a natural mannerism. 

“got a romeo? or do you want one?” jj replied with a wink. even in character, you felt your cheeks get hot because if you remembered the script correctly, that was not rudy’s line. he improvised. as you all played off that improvised line, kiara kicked jj from under the table which jj didn’t hesistate to flinch and rub his shin. “fiesty...”

kiara looked up at juliet, sending her an uncomfortable smile in a way of saying ‘sorry for him, he’s always this stupid’. “he’ll just take a water.” kiara flat out said because jj just failed to respond to juliet’s initial question.

“on the rocks!” jj joked to ease the awkwardness as juliet walked back towards the wreck to fetch them their drinks.

you heard the director yell cut and let your body somewhat relax from it’s on screen state and turned back around. “cute line, rudy! s’all you got?�� you hollered over towards the trio, as you walked towards them. 

“c’mon, you gotta admit, that was funny. i had to make it a little more authentic!” rudy defended himself with his hands up. you rolled your eyes and shoved him slightly on the shoulder for almost messing you up on the first day if it wasn’t for the rest of the cast who played along so well. you let your elbow rest on his shoulder, exchanging a couple of words between madison, johnathan, and rudy in between takes. now you understood what all the hype was about.

---

after a long day at work, you packed up your backpack in your trailer, pulling your charger out of the socket. as you glanced around one last time, making sure you didn’t forget anything you heard a knock at your door. 

“come in!” you hollered out, although you didn’t let your eyes leave the surrounding areas.

“hey.” you recognized the voice as rudy’s and felt your heart flutter lightly and looked up at him. his rosy cheeks and messy blond hair almost made you melt on the spot.

“what’s up?” you asked, throwing your backpack over your shoulder and grabbing your phone. rudy took a couple of slow steps towards you and now you two were basically inches away from each other. 

“i was wondering if you were up for dinner tonight?” rudy asked, rubbing the back of his neck. he was clearly nervous, but for what?

“yeah i’m down! what do the rest of the group have in mind?” you responded, pretty obliviously. rudy let out a big breath because he thought he had gotten the hard part over with. 

“actually, i was thinking you could come around to mine and i could cook something....like y’know. just the....two of us?” rudy responded, his face slowly growing red as he avoided eye contact with you.

a huge smile grew on your face and you saw as rudy slightly relaxed himself as maybe this was a good sign. “like...a date?” you answered. you felt bad that maybe you were egging it on more and making him clearly more stressed but you needed that clarification for yourself.

“uh, that’s what i had in mind?” rudy stated, with his eyebrows raised. you lifted on your tippy toes and placed a kiss on his cheek. as you took a step back, you stared into his blue eyes and smiled.

“a date it is.” you answered. you never in your life thought that you would have the confidence to do that, so it wasn’t a surprise that your heart was racing fast and your hands felt sweaty.

you walked past him and opened the door to the trailer before turning back. “you coming or what?” you asked.

rudy did not even hesitate to follow after you.

[tiphprince]

I have many thoughts and feelings about snape leaving Hogwarts. (I would write it but one I am well lazy and I have this weird internal conflict but yes anyways) I will be signing of as 🤺 (this is so long I am so sorry)

So for scene + background purposes : both the mud blood incident and the werewolf prank happens at the 5th year and I guess eileen leaves him. And snape is in this absolute bedroom depression because rn he can't stand himself, there is no scope and like he knows what possibilities lies in both sides but rn he's craving for fimilarity and the only person who he hates that he's connected to is his father right. They both have this anger that eileen leaves them in spinners end and one of them is free. So he does something he hasn't done ever since he met Lilly : he takes a chance and applies to ilvermony he knows he won't get in he's so sure (until he gets proven wrong). And when he gets that letter that says ACCEPTANCE he somehow empathizes with the women who first introduces magic and the same women who ran away from this horrid place and figures that eileen is a clever witch and she's probably okay of not she'd be back or they would find out that she's dead.

He knows that he's meant to be alone (he does the paper work for a transfer alone, he packs alone and he celebrates alone on his departure by allowing himself to feel something when he buys himself a small plum cake) and he feels incredibly small when he enters the ministry where he meets the headmistress but he's hopeful.

And ilvermony is big and it's grand and it's so much more accepting. On his first day he meets a brown eyed girl who's made him feel absolute concern and exasperation in 14 minutes of meeting her (why do you think that England is a sad place he asks her and she simply looks at him dumbly saying your two weather's are rain and heatstroke, and he can't help but agree with her) but he can't help but feel light. There is no Potter, no black no werewolf and maybe his life is worth something. And he's less alone (he doesn't ever say it out loud because he's scared after all he is someone who's great at ruining friendships) because he makes friends some who understand the guilt and the shame and the anger he is carrying while others (and some really good adults) just know that it's not fair that you should treat your own life like this and now he's able to speak about his regrets his guilt to those closest to him 'what you did was wrong but I also think it's wrong that you have been told that holding on to the guilt is the only way you can forgive yourself, I think you have hurt yourself enough' she says to him and there is an absolute pin drop silence until severus takes all the courage to say i think I need help.

Flash forward it's 2 years later in Hogwarts and a ripple effect occurs.

Regulus black feels at first a great deal of anger towards snape because he managed to escape this. Narcissa and lucius understand but they will never admit it. But snape left their snape this tiny greasy kid from coke worth felt his life was worth more or if not he believed in enough spite to take some direct action. That spite is what drove them to stay effectively neutral and hint on supporting dumbledore despite a war that there in the horizon. James and Lilly are together, the loss of friendship leads to a kinship which lead to a romance while Sirius and Remus are okay but they aren't. And Peter well he's shifty ( some days if not most days they all find it liberating to pretend that snape doesn't exist)

And now they all in this campaign to promote unity are in advanced muggle studies class, regulus black is the only slytherin and its painfully obvious on what's to come. And charity Burbage who is this cheery hufflepuff decides to do her video essay on schools but she has this pen pal who is in ilvermony and who's willing to help to show off her school and the people she loves (do you fucking see where I am going with this?????)

And BAM it's this heartfelt Supercut of her favorite places and the people she loves and meets there are snippets of their endearing conversations. And everything is okay until severus snape the boy who left at 15 is smiling at the one recording the video and is sitting casually at a sofa 'hey sev what do you gotta say about Americans' your tea sucks, and to think you would learn from the Boston tea party incident. And the rest of the video shows more people but it's severus who makes the video so much better and so much worse. Because she records his laughter, his joy but it's them who have this weird gut feeling and Lilly cant help but hold James hand tightly and James can't stop staring at the same boy he hurt.

And Lilly comes into this horrible but truthful realization that she's feeling what her ex best friend feels (the disbelief when she can't understand why can't she see him like this, the same way snape felt when he couldn't understand what Lilly saw in James) because there is so much betrayal she feels when he watches him smile at other people and can't understand why couldn't the snape that they are seeing in this video be the one who went at Hogwarts with them??? and James has to see this version of snape he hasn't seen before and thinks maybe they could be friends. And Lilly at that moment doesn't want to answer the question : he's happier because he's away from this place, the same place you love. Would you ask him to leave earlier knowing he could be happy like this?

The video is over and its regulus black who looks so pensive and has this look of hope that maybe goods thing can happen says in a too quite class because everyone knows : I haven't seen him smile like that at all. The bell rings and they just go on and walk a little bit more heavier because all they can think of Severus snape, the boy who escaped and the one who isn't coming back .

🤺🤺🤺🤺

Okay so... this was a completely unsolicited surprise in my inbox the other day, but damn if I didn’t love every single part of it!

I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT OUR BOY SAYING FUCK IT AND LEAVING HOGWARTS

For the the other characters it doesn’t change that much, Lily still ends up with James, the Marauders are sad that their favorite target is gone but they get over it quickly, the other Slytherins don’t give a fuck about the poor and dirty halfblood, and the teachers... well, they’re as useless as usual.

But our baby! It’s awful for him at first, the fact that he suddenly finds himself so far away, and so alone, from everything he’d ever known, even the bad. Because at least he knew what to expect at Hogwarts and at home, it was all about the evil you know, and adventure is definitely not his thing.

I’ve always been in love with the “was gone for several years, and came back a changed man” (must be the Naruto fan in me), it’s a bit like anon’s video here, a way to show everyone what they missed, the huge mistake they made in hurting this kid who just wanted to be left alone

I want to see the Marauders praising this dude from America before learning that it’s Snape because he doesn’t look anything like what he used to (meaning he actually looks like a functioning human being).

I want to see Lily, high and mighty with her perfect husband and her son on the way, frown when she recognizes her former best friend laughing and smiling with another girl, looking happier than he’d ever been with her.

I want to see Slughorn in shock when the best potions master of his generation is revealed to be the weird ass teen he’d dismissed on the first day because he didn’t have a powerful family name.

Basically, I want every character who ever underestimated Snape, who ever hurt him, to, if not regret their actions, then at least realize that there was something more to him even back then, that if only he’d been given a chance he could have become that amazing person right here in the UK and not halfway around the world.

Also, I want Snape to not forgive them. Maybe he has to work with them for one reason or another, and he acts just civil enough to not outright provoke and insult them, but he’ll never forgive and he’ll never forget.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Octa A-kun’s Heart-Thumping Day!

For the 1200+ follower milestone, here is the next part of the cursed raven’s story!

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5

Today’s tale involves Octavinelle A-kun in a pinch...?! Fight on, Octa A-kun...! You can do it, Octa A-kun...!!

My name is Kon...! I’m just your average, everyday Octavinelle student. I tend to blend into the background, so a lot of my classmates call me Octa A-kun.

I’d say that my favorite food is salted fish, and I happen to like whatever seems to be popular these days. I have the window seat in my home room. Most of the time, I just go with the flow, but I like to keep my head low and stay out of trouble!

All I really want is a quiet, peaceful life!

...So—you may ask—how, then, did I find myself in this pinch?

An arrow whizzes at Octa A-kun’s head, tearing off his fedora and pinning it to the wall behind him. It just narrowly grazes his hair, ripping off a deep green strand with a sharp jolt. Octa A-kun squeaks in terror and collapses onto his rear end.

“Pardon moi, Monsieur Kelp,” comes the light-hearted chirp of his assailant. A young man in a bob cut steps forth, a bow in his hands and a quiver strapped to his back. The billowy white feather tucked in his hat bounces with each stride. “I was in need of some early morning target practice.”

Third year and Pomefiore vice-dorm leader, Rook Hunt, according to the rumors. Be wary of him--once he fixates on something, he will not relent.

“A-Ahahaha...I-It’s fine, senpai!” Octa A-kun stutters, scrambling back onto his feet. He glances at his poor hat, skewered clean through--he’d have to file a request for a replacement later. Azul would charge a fee for it--with interest.

“Ah, how merciful you are, Monsieur Kelp~” Rook laughs as he approaches, each step in his boots the resounding thump-thump of a predator on the prowl.

Octa A-kun shrinks against the wall. “U-Um...! Do you need something from me, senpai...?!”

“Hohoh. How perceptive of you.” Rook plucks his arrow--and Octa A-kun’s hat--and holds his weapon up in the sunlight, his green eyes focusing on the gleam of the arrow’s dagger-like tip. “I’ve merely come for a query, my friend! No need to make such a frightened face.”

“Just a question i-is fine. But it has to be a quick one...! I have to meet up with my partner for a project...”

“But of course. I will not keep you for long.” He tucks the arrow back into his quiver and replaces Octa A-kun’s hat upon his head. “Be honest with me--that is all that I ask of you.”

Rook maintains the curve to his lips as he brings his face closer to his prey. His smile darkens, and the glimmer in his eyes fades into something far more cruel.

“...You would not happen to have been sent by one Roi de Fort, have you? To, perhaps, spy on a little black bird?”

Octa A-kun pales. Sweat collects on his forehead. A lump forms in his throat.

“I-I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT...!!” he blurts out.

Unconvincingly.

Rook’s eyes narrow. “I have requested for you to speak naught but the truth, have I not?”

He reaches out and takes ahold of Octa A-kun’s collar, pulling him close--so close that the poor boy can make out his own fear-stricken expression in the green of Rook’s eyes.

The hunter still smiles, his teeth a stark, blinding white.

He’s beautiful, Octa A-kun realizes. Beautiful, but deadly.

“Y-You’re being r-really scary, senpai...! P-Please don’t bully me...!”

“La vérité, Monsieur Kelp?”

A drop of sweat races down Octa A-kun’s profile. Pupils dilated, breath hitching, body trembling.

In the distance, a bell tolls--granting him an opportunity to escape.

“Would you look at the time...!! I...I really gotta go now!! M-My project partner’s waiting for me, ahahaha...!! E-Excuse me!” Octa A-kun shouts shaking from Rook’s grip and sidestepping the hunter.

He begins to speed walk away, hands balled into fists and arms swinging stiffly, when Rook calls out to him.

“...Monsieur Kelp.”

Against his better judgement, Octa A-kun dares to glance back.

Rook is staring right at him, his gaze piercing.

“Know this: if you betray her, there will be more for you to worry about than damaged articles of clothing.”

And with that remark, Rook allows his prey to retreat.

But he watches every step of the way.

Until Octa A-kun is nothing more than a dot in the distance.

“Welcome to my roost,” Raven declares with the wave of her hand. “Ignore the mess, and make yourself at home.”

“D-Don’t mind if I do,” Octa A-kun says, carefully ducking into the attic space.

Mess is a bit of an understatement. Raven’s room is piled high with tomes, loose papers scattered on the floor and smears of ink all over.

Tucked away in a corner appears to be a mattress, with a blanket in a nest-like shape, a pillow laid in the center. A bookshelf overflows with volumes on ancient curses, while a strange teardrop shaped seat, decorated with ribbons and wisteria, hangs by a window.

Set upon a large desk is a snuffed out candle, a quill set with a magic gemstone, and several empty bottles and blank labels. A basket spills out its contents--herbs, flowers, and fungi--next to a mortar and pestle.

What really catches Octa A-kun’s attention, however, is the strange collection of glass apparatuses and tubes that line the desk. A small flame dances under the rounded part of a flask, heating up a rose-gold concoction.

“Looks like you keep pretty busy, huh?”

“You could say that. I like to remain productive.”

Octa A-kun offers a timid smile. “Um, if I may ask, what is it that you’ve got brewing at your desk...? I-I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

Raven pauses.

“...Do you know that feeling of rediscovering a part of yourself you thought you had once lost? Or the rose-tinted glasses which clouds one’s vision? The wonderfulness of meeting an old friend? Think of those things, set in the color of dawn, beckoning a new day.”

“E-Eh?” Octa A-kun combs his brain for a response. “Uh...you mean nostalgia?”

“Precisely. This is my latest creation--Nostalgia. It took me two whole weeks to get this new ink color just right, but it shall be lovely to write with.” Raven puffs up a bit with pride. “Oh, but enough about my personal projects. We need to work on that Magic History assignment, yes?”

“Y-Yes. That report on Unique Magic Development...” Octa A-kun’s eyes follow Raven’s hand as it trails over a series of books on a shelf.

Hexes, and How to Break Them. True Love’s Kiss: Panacea or Poison? Ancient Curses: A Collection of Anecdotes. Journal of Magic Medicine, Issue 32: Jinx Edition.

“Ah, here it is.” Raven fishes out a maroon book with a few sticky notes jutting out of it--Unique Magic: Nature & Nurture--and hands it to Octa A-kun, along with a spare quill, an inkwell, and a fresh sheet of paper.

She gestures toward the seat adorned with wisteria. “Have a seat and work on your half of the report. I’ll be working on my half at my desk after I clean up. We can compare our halves and edit as is necessary when both parts are complete.”

He complies, sitting where he is directed and flipping open Unique Magic: Nature & Nurture.

Two sticky notes immediately pop out at him. One sports a list of various unrelated words (Nostalgia, Sorrow, Regret, and an L word that appears to have been blotted out, left illegible).

The other sticky note has a little diagram labelled Unique Magic, a heart in the center with arrows pointing outward. Needs faith, trust, and a little pixie dust, one arrow remarks. Infusion of feelings requires experience, says another. Practice with Nostalgia, a third states.

Octa A-kun slowly lifts his eyes from the page--carefully watching Raven tidying up her desk.

With the flick of her magical pen--or quill, rather--she extinguishes the flame beneath her flask and sets it into a test tube rack to cool. Raven collects her plants into a basket and tucks them under the desk, along with the rest of her glassware. Then she gathers stray papers and pops open her drawer to stow them away--

And that’s when Octa A-kun catches a glimpse of it.

An unopened letter, in a pale blue envelope.

To My Dearest Raven scrawled across it.

“...And that is the g-gist of it,” Octa A-kun concludes his report, “dorm leader.”

“Excellent work, Kon-san. You efforts are greatly appreciated.” From behind his ornate office desk, Azul clasps his hands together and beams. “I suppose there is no longer any need for Floyd to pay your friends in Pomefiore and Scarabia a little visit.”

“Boooo,” Floyd groans from beside him.

“Th-Thank you for your kindness, dorm leader!” Octa A-kun gushes--if only to (poorly) mask his own fears. He wants to sink into the couch cushions and disappear like sea foam. “B-But...But if I can make a request, sir!”

“What is it?” Azul sounds mildly annoyed, but Octa A-kun steels his courage and persists.

“Um...i-if possible, can you assign s-someone else to check on Miss Raven? I-I’m scared of what Rook-senpai will do to me if I make the wrong mo--EEP!!”

Before he has even finished his sentence, Floyd is flying at him like a shark tearing through water.

WHAM!

Octa A-kun screams as Floyd’s foot connects with the couch, boxing him in and nearly knocking the furniture over. Azul’s glasses flash a pure white, and he makes no move to restrain the feral eel.

“What was that, Konbu-chan?” Floyd asks--no, demands--as he leers down at him. Teeth gnashing. “Did I hear you right? Umineko-kun got in the way?”

“E-Eeeep! Ch-Chill out, Floyd-senpai! You’re...you’re scaring me!!” Octa A-kun whimpers, his poor heart pounding out of his chest.

“Speak freely, Kon-san,” Azul prompts, waving a gloved hand to silence Floyd--but his tone is just as icy and cruel as the eel’s eyes. “What is this I hear about...interference?”

“W-Well...h-he seemed to know that you sent me. And he said he might...do things if I make a misstep.” Octa A-kun furiously shakes his head. “I’ll need a replacement hat after th-that encounter...I-I’m sorry, dorm leader, but I r-really don’t want to be involved in this any more than I have to...!”

Azul leans back in his chair, and his face settles into a serious expression.

“Uwaaah, Jade wasn’t kiddin’ when he said Umineko-kun was guarding Black Pearly like a shark on sunken treasure,” Floyd flicks his tongue along his teeth, which gleam dangerously under the lights of the VIP room. “Even the low level lackies get chewed up and spat out, ehehehe~”

“This is not funny, Floyd. This just makes things that much more difficult,” Azul snaps, pushing his glasses up.

“It’s fine, it’s fiiine,” Floyd insists dismissively with a giggle. “I’ll just follow Konbu-chan--and if that creep Umineko-kun gets close, I’ll beat’em bloody~”

“I-Isn’t that a bit extreme?!” Octa A-kun protests, only to earn a withering glare from Floyd.

“Shut your trap, guppy. No one asked for your opinion,” Floyd hisses--then his expression brightens considerably when he addresses his dorm leader. “Ne, ne, Azul! Can I, can I?”

“Absolutely not. We still need to collect more information before taking such drastic action,” Azul says, his voice tinged with irrtation. “Might I remind you, Floyd, that Octavinelle is, once again, in poor standing with the headmaster? It would not do to further tarnish our reputation with another incidence report.”

“Laaaame~” Floyd pouts, backing away from Oct A-kun. “I’m not allowed to do anything fun anymore.”

“As I was saying,” Azul continues, ignoring the eel, “thank you for bringing this to my attention, Kon-san. Your work here is done--you are relieved from your duties until further notice. Dismissed.”

“Y-Yessir!! Th-Thank you so much, sir!” Octa A-kun breathes a massive sigh of relief. He is quick to gather his coat and hat, then bow to his senpais and hurriedly exit.

Azul pinches the bridge of his nose.  “...This will become a problem if it persists.”

“I don’t get it, Azul!” Floyd whines loudly, slamming his hands on his dorm leader’s desk. “Why don’t we just kidnap Black Pearly already and make her ‘n Jade ‘fess up? That’d be sooo much easier than dancing around Umineko-kun!”

“That is not how proper reconciliation works, Floyd,” Azul points out. “If we are to fix this mess, then we cannot hope to resolve it overnight.”

He thinks of the details Octa A-kun had divulged--the countless books that litter Raven’s abode, the fixation on work, the strangely named ink, the interest in curses...Surely they must all mean something.

He pauses, before adding, “...I feel as though I am missing a vital piece of the puzzle.”

“Ehhhh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Call it...octopus’s intuition. There is something bigger at play here, something far more powerful than you or I can comprehend.” Azul folds his arms. “And if we intend to bring back Miss Raven into Jade’s arms, then that is one puzzle piece we must find.”

“Hmmm.” Floyd leans down, peering into Azul’s solemn face--then breaks out into a toothy grin. “Ne, ne, you really care a lot about Jade, don’t you?”

“Hmph. Don’t be ridiculous,” Azul snaps, lips pursing into a straight line. “This is merely a case of an employer fretting over the well being of his employee. Jade cannot perform at his best if he is emotionally distressed. I am simply doing my due diligence as his employer to ensure that he is content--it benefits the business.”

“Ehehehe~ In the end, Azul’s heart is juuust as squishy and soft as his octopus form~” The eel wraps his arms around Azul, squeezing the dorm leader against his chest. “That’s sooo cute~”

“FLOYD, DO NOT PRESUME TO KNOW MY INTENTIONS...!! AND UNHAND ME THIS INSTANT!”

“Nope! Don’t wanna~”

Octa A-kun is halfway down the corridor when a hand clamps down--hard--onto his shoulder. The student squeaks in terror as he is whipped around--and comes face-to-face with his smiling vice-dorm leader.

“Good evening, Kon-san,” Jade says nonchalantly, his tone light but his aura dark. “Might I have a moment with you?”

For the third time that day. Octa A-kun’s stomach sinks--but he lacks both the strength and the willpower to resist.

“S-Sure...Wh-What is it?”

Jade cranes his head down, his single golden eye glowing despite his sinister shadow. “I have received word that you have been snooping around campus. Naughty, naughty Kon-san. You should know better.”

Octa A-kun instinctively takes a step back, putting some distance between him and his vice-dorm leader--the information broker of Octavinelle. No secret can evade him, it seems.

“Th-The dorm leader asked me to...!” he confesses, cheeks turning pink in embarrassment.

“Please, be at ease. I do not bite,” Jade says smoothly, chuckling into his glove. “Now then, my sources tell me that you happened upon Miss Raven’s quarters. Is this correct?”

“Y-Yes...”

“Then let me ask this of you--did you, by chance, see a blue envelope?”

“Blue envelope...” Octa A-kun’s eyes light up in realization. “A-Ah, I do seem to recall seeing something like that. She...She keeps it in a drawer. It was unopened.”

“Unopened...?” Jade repeats the word carefully, as though handling a delicate artifact. He brings a hand to his chin in contemplation, his brows furrowing. “It is no wonder why she continues to behave in such a vehement manner,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Um...vice-dorm leader? Is everything alright?” Octa A-kun asks nervously.

“...No. It is nothing, I assure you.” Jade composes himself, smiling once more--this time, without a hint of darkness to it. “Think nothing of it, dear Kon-san. Please, do retire for the night--that was all I wished to know, fufu.”

“O-Of course, vice-dorm leader...”

Jade sees him off with a polite wave.

Octa A-kun waits until Jade is completely out of sight before he collapses into a heap on the ground. He clutches onto his stomach, which twists and knots with fright, and sniffles softly to himself.

Why, oh, why was he not sorted into a normal dorm with normal non-scary students and normal, healthy relationships with their peers? No, instead he’s trapped in the mermaid mafia and witnessing Overblot incidents every single month.

Go to Night Raven College, they said. It’d be fun, they said. You’ll get a great education, they said.

J-Just...Just give me a quiet, peaceful life already...!!

[soulwillower]

if you’re too shy • richie tozier

(richie tozier x cam girl!reader smut)

[based off the song if you’re too shy (let me know) by the 1975.]

requested: i can't find it lol BUT 🤍anon (i think) requested a fic based off of the 1975′s new song, if you’re too shy let me know !!

warnings: swearing, alcohol use, switch!richie kinda, smut, unprotected sex, a tiny bit of cumplay i guess, mentions of phone sex, oral sex (female receiving), face sitting, a bit of dirty talking, UNEDITED as always

also i wrote this in a different style than usual and idk if i like it much but u can let me know what u guys think,, if its weird i can go in and change the povs since its 3rd person richie

[losers + reader are 21+ in this.]

7.4k words lol

♡

i see her online all the time i'm trying not to stare down there while she talks about her tough time

"h-hey, man, who's that?" the voice from right next to richie makes him damn near leap out of his seat. it makes beverly chuckle a bit as she takes a bite of her apple, shaking her head. "it’s nobody." richie says quickly as he tilts his phone towards his chest and shoots a toothy grin to bill. his friend raises his full eyebrows, "wh-what, so n-nobody was sending you n-nudes?"

"something like that." richie mutters, stomach fluttering as the image flashes in his mind’s eye - the curves, the dark red lace, the plush skin painting a perfect scene in richie’s vivid imagination.

richie looks back down at the photo. his his thumbs hover over the profile picture; he'd found her originally on his instagram explore page, the photos teasing and immediately he had to know more. y/n.

and then a few days later, he'd subscribed to her only fans, which he never quite thought he'd do with anyone, but he couldn't help it. she was so enticing, so perfect and so alluring. it was the playfulness that pulled him in; and he swears he's never lusted after somebody like he has with her. it was kind of starting to freak him out.

"is that o-onlyfans?" bill says and richie shoves bill's nosy face off his shoulder with a panicked grunt. "fuck off, mushmouth."

bill laughs and stan and bev perk up from across the table, staring at the two, interests suddenly piqued. "did you subscribe to a girl's onlyfans, rich?" stan says with a grin, setting his pen down on his notebook. 

richie just smirks and wiggles his brows a bit, enough to confirm his question. bill chuckles from next to richie.

"let me see." bev says, wiggling her manicured nails in a "gimme" motion. richie hands his phone over with red cheeks. normally he wouldn't care about his friends discovering he's paid money just to see a hot chick's bod, but this was different. for some reason, he felt connected to her. god, that thought made him want to slam his head against a brick wall. she doesn't even know him,  for all he knows she could live in the middle of.... montana, or like, ohio.

bev whistles and stan nods, "if i looked like that," bev mumbles as she tosses richie's phone back towards him, "i'd do that too. mad props."

noises of agreement fill the table but richie's just looking at the small smirk that peeks from the corner of one of the photos and he can't help but wonder what her eyes are like in real life. he wishes he could meet her.

girl of your dreams, you know what i mean there's something 'bout her stare that makes you nervous and you say things that you don't mean

it's a cold day when bill and richie find themselves stumbling in to the coffee shop for a drink. bill's muttering about some girl in his creative writing class that gave him head when richie's eyes catch a figure so familiar yet foreign that he stops dead in his tracks. bill turns to him, face confused. "r-richie, what's wrong w-with you?"

richie shakes his head, stammering in disbelief, "that-that's her, bill. the girl, from onlyfans. y/n." he whispers, gesturing with his eyes towards the girl working the register.

bill’s jaw goes slack, green eyes raking over her form and igniting richie’s stomach with boiling rage. as if bill’s doing something that only richie is allowed to do – as if they're not both being total creeps.

“h-holy sh-shit. she’s b-beautiful.” bill mumbles. richie elbows him in the ribs, shooting him a glare that prompts an eye-roll from his auburn haired friend.

richie swallows and watches, his throat feeling like sandpaper as she laughs at something the customer in front of them said. bill nudges richie, "i-i'm gonna get a s-seat. t-talk to her."

he winks and grins as he walks away, leaving richie with his reckless self. he thinks he's sweating through his sweater as he walks up, finding himself face-to-face with her. "hi, how can i help you?" she asks, giving him a smile

holyshitholyshitholyshit.

he might've just came right then and there. okay, he's gotta say something cool, something smooth. don't be a dumbass, tozier. 

"howdy, sugar. i'll have my coffee like i like my women." his mouth blurts as his brain sirens go off, PUT ON THE BRAKES, RICH – "a hot shock to the lap.”

she glares at him, cheeks light pink and eyebrows pulled together in annoyance and yep, richie's probably going to get hard because of that look but he's also probably going to toss his body off a bridge because what the fuck, tozier?

he can hear bill laughing quietly from a ways away and he quickly shakes his head, muttering quietly, "jail. jail, richard."

"funny." she deadpans, clearly not amused. because of course she isn't.

"sorry, i'll have a black coffee, y/n." he mutters, eyes widening to himself when he realizes she was not wearing a goddamn name tag and he just said her name.

this is a disaster. she gives him a bewildered, slightly creeped out look and if richie wasn't panicking, he'd gape at how she still managed to be effortlessly gorgeous even now.

he sighs, shaking his head, the door of the cafe opening and blowing a gust of frigid air through the warm room. fitting - douche chill. 

"look, toots, i don't want this to be weird. i- um, i recognize you." he says, cheeks aflame. she raises a brow, face straight for a few moments, unsure what he means.

it's not long after when recognition flashes over her own face - must have ruled out coffee shop, university and her local gym - and she nods with a tight, almost uncomfortable smile. 

he tries not to think of the livestream he watched last night where she showed all her new gifts and modeled lingerie, and how he’d spent his time to himself with his left hand immediately after watching. his cheeks are red with shame. 

"okay." is all she says, writing down a scribbled order on the coffee cup. her eyes shoot back up and give richie a once-over that really makes his fingers itch - god, why did he have to be this way? 

he almost runs his fingers through his curls but decides against it, eyes opting to focus on her own gorgeous eyes as they meet him. "i'm impressed i have a fan who looks like you, i must say. even if you are a complete jack ass." she purrs and his jaw nearly smacks the floor at its velocity as it flies open.

"what's that supposed to mean?" he asks then with a small grin, flattered at the tiniest of compliments that just barely, in his mind, eclipsed the insult that he so very much deserved.

"i'm saying you're kind of a dick. it's too bad, because you're real cute." she says casually, handing him his change. his stomach flips and butterflies release in his chest, a feeling that he's not felt in almost five years.

but damn, of course he messed up - he got the chance to talk to the hottest girl on earth and he started it by saying an awful joke that wasn't funny at all. of course she though he was a dick, he is one.

he's shocked, though, as he waits for his coffee with bill, who is still snickering into his hand every few moments, to find his coffee cup with extra sharpie scribbled on the white paper. a name.

y/n. and below it is a phone number with a small heart scribbled, and richie can't tell if it's a seven or a one but he figures he'd try every phone number in the damn state if it meant he could fucking text her. holy fuck.

"maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes i'm not playing with you, baby i think that you should give it a go" she said, "maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes i wanna see, and stop thinking if you're too shy, then let me too shy, then let me know"

he didn't text her for two days and three hours. yes, he counted it. no, he won't think about why he was obsessing over the numbers - but since the time he'd finally had found the courage to text her today, things have escalated proficiently. 

she'd just mentioned how hot it was in her apartment since her heater had gone haywire - even though the winter winds were cold, she'd claimed she was burning up in what she was wearing.

and the mere mention of her clothing had sent richie into somewhat of a spiral, spending at least seven minutes glued to his phone and scrolling through the saved album he had of those photos of her that she'd posted; his sweatpants getting increasingly tight and his palm suddenly aching to slip through the fabric and find some release.

but, in true trashmouth fashion, he apparently needed that sweet, sweet rejection from a hot cam girl he'd somehow weaseled into getting the number of in order to wank off properly, so he types out a text and hits send immediately.

what are you wearing?

and then he almost vomits in embarrassment – what was she going to think? did he just royally fuck up? oh god, he’s going to have to shave his head and move to canada.

his phone buzzes and he nearly passes out when he lays his eyes upon the image attached – there her body is again, curvy and full and beautiful, her skin glowing in the fading light of what he assumes is her bedroom. and with it:

this. what are you wearing, rich?

and then he pulls his gaze from his phone and stands, breathing heavily because holy shit.

he's gotten nudes before, but.... none from someone like her. holy shit.

he walks to his bathroom, splashing water on his beet-red cheeks. he swallows, staring at himself in the mirror. fuck.

he slaps his cheek once, then winking at himself in attempt to muster any sliver of confidence. and then he snaps a picture, only in his boxers.

and then he has to physically refrain from making a joke about wearing the same lingerie set as her, instead sending a flirty text that he knows any other woman would blush at. he just doesn’t know with y/n, and maybe that’s why he loves it so much. she's keeping him on his toes.

you like what you see?

he sends that one afterwards, shaking his head because oh my god, she's going to respond with "no" and then bill him $40 for the nude she sent him. not that he wouldn't pay, but...

his phone dings and he nearly breaks an ankle running to his desk. 

yeah, i do. but maybe i'd like you better without any clothes on.

he almost yells out loud at this, but he has a feeling that waking up stan in the middle of the night would not be optimal after their 'roommate agreement' they'd made that explicitly states richie cannot scream between 1am - 9am. so instead he smirks to himself, face turning red.

he's getting harder by the moment, and as he stares at that picture she'd sent earlier, he lets out a breathy groan. the lace....

we could face time yk

or we don't have to.

he reads her words in live time, watching the thought bubble appear again and watching it like a hawk. he can just imagine her sitting there with a small smirk as another text comes in and he almost groans as his dick twitches.

like, if you're too shy or something ;)

he stares at the screen for two seconds at that sinful photo she'd sent just before those texts and then sighs, shaking his head and pressing the green face-time call button.

i've been wearing nothing every time i call you and i'm starting to feel weird about it sometimes it's better if you think about it this time, i think i'm gonna drink through it

three days later, richie was undeniably and unequivocally drunk. but, as he's just explained about three times to mike, he knows that it is just easier to not think right, especially about her, right now - and the best way to do that is by getting so piss drunk that even if he tried to "hit her line," as he so eloquently put it, his dick would be too whiskey'd out to make a full appearance.

it's for the best. mike had fake gagged at richie’s cadence with a laugh, but richie was dead serious because he was starting to think he had a real issue.

it was obviously just a fun thing to do between two near-strangers, but he'd found that he was starting to almost pavlov-style condition himself into getting turned on every time the name y/n came across his recent texts or face times, and it was getting to be too much.

especially when her post notification popped up and he cracked a fatty in the middle of his econ lecture. christ, the point of elasticity of markers in the u.s. was not something he pictured when he usually had to quell a pitch in his tent. so yeah, it's too much.

because yes, he loves her fucking body and wants nothing more than her, but in truth he longs for the feeling of her skin against his; to touch her, to kiss her, to make her his. all the time.

but yet, it was just a good way to get off without all the strings and ribbons and yarn and whatever the fuck her soft-looking knit bra is made from attached.

so much for not thinking about her.

but i see her online (and don't think that i should be calling) all the time (i just wanted a happy ending) and i'm pretending i don't care about her stare while she's giving me a tough time

it’s noon the next day and he's laying in (for some reason) stan's bed instead of his own with a blinding, mind-splitting headache and an insatiable craving for a cheeseburger, eyes squinting in lust and something akin to shame as he watches the livestream y/n had just started. she’s in a slip – a very thin, silk and see through slip and it makes him more frustrated than he’s willing to admit.

as he stares at her smooth skin and wonders how it'd be to touch it all, her eyes catch something in the chat and she smiles coyly. "hi, rich." she purrs and richie almost chokes - holy shit, she saw him join.

"do you like my gift i just got?" she asks coyly, snapping the straps of her bra with a small smile and he stiffens almost instantly, thinking of how many times he'd seen her skin in videos and photos that were just for him.

how she'd moaned his name two nights ago on face time, her fingers buried inside herself slightly off-camera. and oh, how he wishes he could see all of her, but they'd not crossed that line yet - anything they'd done hadn't been yet proven visually, only from facial expressions, noises, and the brutal honestly of being together through face time.

he wants her so fucking bad, he needs her like he needs water to drink and air to breathe and it's murdering him as he watches her react to the chat of her livestream, playing with the hem of her black lace panties.

god, he needs a cold shower or something if he's going to get anything done today.

and then he's calling her an a few hours after her stream ends because he just can't wait - he feels his stomach twist with shame as he realizes he should not be doing such a certainly a terrible idea. but she answers after three rings. "richie." her siren voice purrs and he literally feels himself fall deeper into the pit.

"hi there, toots. got any coffee in the pot for me?" he asks, sounding surprisingly eloquent compared to how she normally makes him feel. 

she hums in fake thought, and it makes richie grin. she's fucking adorable. "come to the shop, i have my break in ten." and then she hangs up. he sighs, rubbing his face with his hand as he shakes his head. he's utterly fucked.

he's there in record time, a smirk plastered on his face as he walks in and sees her sitting at a table, lookin' all pretty. just for him.

"what made you think of calling?" she says in loo of a greeting. he sits across from her and wills his eyes to meet hers. "nothin' toots." he says with a half shrug, taking a sip of the coffee placed in front of him that has the the name 'dick' written on it in her handwriting. he rolls his eyes affectionately.

"oh, so it wasn't anything to do with my livestream this morning?" she asks with a look, eyeing him. her eyes are swimmable, they hold so many stories and secrets and maybe richie's just hungover, but he's feeling very flustered.

"we-w, uh, no. what... what are you talking about?" he rolls his eyes at himself inwardly, cursing stuttering bill and his contagious speech patterns. "-i don't know what you're talking about, sugar." he recovers fairly smoothly, if he may toot his own horn. and honestly, he can pretend not to care as long as he doesn't look into that goddamn stare of hers.

he chuckles awkwardly, cheeks aflame as she stares at him with a bored look and a small hum. she still looks perfect and he's even more nervous now, because oh god, oh fuck, he's gonna get slapped in the face by y/n.

it was pretty unspoken since they'd started doing... stuff... that richie probably still watched her content online, but she'd never fully addressed it until today during the livestream in front of a thousand others. 

he's choking on his spit in shame but then a smile splits her face and richie's sure he's suffocated on his own saliva and gone to a sinner's heaven. or maybe hell.

"oh, richie, i'm just teasing you. look at your face!" she says with an airy laugh, pinching his cheeks and making him want to shrivel up as he turns even redder. what the fuck? "-so cute. alright, i've got to get back to work. i'll see you around, rich." she says with a wink, taking her coffee and tossing it into the trash bin as she stalks towards the employee back room.

he gapes as he watches her leave and then gets up and makes his way to the exit, clutching the coffee like it was trying to jump out of his grasp and make a run for it. god, she's too much.

"maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes i'm not playing with you, baby i think that you should give it a go" she said, "maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes i wanna see, and stop thinking If you're too shy, then let me too shy, then let me know"

"-babe, you'll have to try harder than that." richie says with a chuckle, watching his phone screen as the beautiful girl on face time gives him a sly, challenging look. she's in a green lace bra, one richie's not seen yet and he can feel himself stiffen as she absently trails her fingers over her chest.

they'd been much closer over the last week since he last saw her in person, enough so that in the three-is weeks of knowing her, he's positive he's head over ass for her in a way that he shouldn't be. and yet, she still comes back every time, still texts him and answers those face time calls. he's baffled, honestly.

"i know you hate me because i'm right." he adds, not even totally remembering what point he's trying to prove as y/n shifts back a bit and more of her body is revealed, her hair glowing dimly in the soft lighting of her room. his eyes run over her curves, her full thighs and stomach and hips that fill over her panties and he almost groans.

"whatever, maybe i'd like you better if you took off your clothes." she says coyly. and richie's half flattered, as usual, but the more he thinks of it the more deflated he feels. he kind of thought they were growing something more than just getting each other off over face time like horny fifteen year olds. he grins nonetheless.

"you say that a lot, you know." richie says breathlessly as he stares at her. she tilts her head ever so slightly and grins, biting her lip as her eyes move around her screen with a conflicted look. "-why?" he adds.

she hums again.

"well. okay, so there's the visual world - like, the internet, onlyfans, instagram- it tells us that everything is amazing. and we should want everything. and it makes us yearn for everything that we don’t have and everything that’s unobtainable. you know, love, a relationship beyond physical. and even physical, it's different when it's online."

her words confuse him much more than they aid him. "you think... that because of the internet, love is unattainable?" he asks with furrowed brows, unsure how somebody so perfect and, quite frankly, lovable, would think that.

"it is for me." she says it with a small sense of forlorning but mostly it's whispered. enough that richie's heart skips a beat and he's, for the first time, not having a hard time keeping his eyes on her face instead of her body.

"what?" he asks dumbly. she just laughs, shaking her head and he stares at her on his tiny phone screen in the dark.

"that’s something that, you know. in real life, person to person, it has a lot of connotations of... trust and vulnerability and connection. doing what i do- and what we're doing… on the internet - it has the opposite of those connotations. like, before you, i didn't- i didn't really do this, i just was selling stuff. because guys don't want to fuck the girl who sells her body online. and you know now, i want to..." she trails off and richie doesn't dare interrupt her because he thinks she's about to say something he's wanted to tell her for a while now.

"i don't know, i guess. exploring someone's body in physical presence isn't seen at all as voyeuristic, or anything apart from...like, an intimate exchange." she says it casually, brushing hair from her face and shit, richie's swooning. he's in fucking love, he knows it, because y/n is so smart and intelligent and he's so fucking trashed for her. as she speaks, her hands move and distract him slightly from her body, doused in blue light from the screen and splayed out for him and only him on her phone camera.

the soft lace on her hips and chest make his body stiffen and it causes him to suppress a groan as she sighs, but richie knows he can’t screenshot this heavenly sight because she’ll definitely notice and she can probably already tell he’s having a hard time not staring at her alluring figure as she talks.

"-whereas, you know. as soon as it happens on the internet, it becomes kinky and cam-girly. and, you know, that's fine. i love doing it. it's just, i'm not sure where the authentic communication even is now. or if i get to have a happy ending." she says and he finally sees her blush for the first time.

he wishes he was there with her, he wishes that he could touch the redness on her cheeks and caress her curvy body and taste her skin on his tongue. he wants to feel himself inside her, he wants to be with her and kiss her lips and yet he can't, so he sighs and shifts in his position, moving to turn up the brightness of his phone so he can see better.

"shouldn't you get to be the one to decide that, doll?" is all he adds. because he feels kind of lost and just as confused as y/n is with this.

he's starting to feel weird about it, because... is this authentic? what makes things like hookups or whatever the hell they've been doing authentic? shouldn't this be easy? it's just phone sex, phone sex with a really hot girl.

a girl who is complex and alive and full of sincerity and richie is definitely falling harder than he should.

she just sighs but makes no other comment. and then they just stare at each other, richie's face illuminated in his dark room by the phone's reflection.

well, i found a motel it looked like the bins i think there'd been a murder so we couldn't get in i need to get back i've gotta see the girl on the screen

"come over and watch a movie with me." he says into the phone, biting his lip. the silence from the other end of the line is deafening as she makes her decision, because they both know she's not about to come over just to watch the shining or psycho. 

they've never done that before, and richie knows if she does come over, then whatever they have will crash down in a fiery mess. and he hates how excited that makes him as he waits in silence for her to drop the ball. so to speak.

"okay." she says, sounding shocked herself, and richie can't contain the excited grin from eclipsing his face. "yeah?" he asks breathlessly, and she's quiet for a little longer. "yeah. text me your address." 

she hangs up after that, and richie's thumbs shake as he types his address and sprints out to where stan, mike, ben, and bill are playing video games in he and stan's living room, wheezing at all of them to get out because someone fucking unbelievable is about to walk through that door.

she's there about an hour later, cheeks flushed when richie opens his door, looking just as nervous and flustered. "hi, chee." she says breathlessly, staring up at him with those goddamn eyes, the eyes that pulled him in the first time. his stomach flips in affection at her nickname and he offers her a drink as she takes in his shitty apartment. he wonders briefly if stan ended up buying that rosé that he'd given him shit for considering, and then prays that stan will stay the night elsewhere.

she's already pouring out glasses of wine when he snaps back to reality, and he grins at her, mumbling in thanks as she passes him a glass that's certainly poured almost to the brim.

"what are we watching, then?" she asks coyly, lifting a brow at him. his cheeks are red, but he tugs her arm down the hall towards his room with a grin, their wine sloshing from their glasses as they move erratically.

"we're watching psycho, y/n/n." he says as he pulls her into his room, glancing back to see she's already swallowed down almost half her glass, a lipstick stain on the side of it. faintly he knows stan will be frustrated if richie doesn't clean that off, but he's more distracted by her lips.

"i like psycho." she says with a nod and a cheeky grin, "the whole 'voyeuristic gaze' thing with hitchcock." she mumbles, and richie recalls faintly learning about that in one of his film classes freshman year and he grins as he takes a hefty gulp of his rosé, figuring he's already given himself away and if she's going to do that, he can too.

he hums, setting down his glass and grabbing hers to set it besides his on the bedside table. he turns around, intending on grabbing his laptop so they could watch the film, but she's so much closer that he'd expected and her hands fall onto his shoulders and he almost shits himself.

unpleasant, but honest. just richie's style.

"can i try something?" she asks with a grin, and richie nods, knowing that she could do anything to him and he'd gladly let it happen and most likely pay out of pocket for the damages afterwards.

and then she's pulling him from her grip on his shoulders, her lips sliding against his and making him grip her hips. his mind almost explodes at with y/n-sensory-overload because he feels her everywhere - on his lips, against his hands, on his shoulders, and pressing against his front.

her lips taste like chamomile and rosé.

she thinks his lips taste like vanilla and cigarette smoke, just as she'd always imagined. he feels so real, pressed against her lips and his body against hers, and she sighs as her tongue slips into his mouth because god, she's needed him for so long. and now she has him.

his hands move, touching every inch of her as their tongues fight for dominance. she pulls back, smirking as she gently pushes him onto his mattress, sliding onto his lap smoothly afterwards, grinding her hips against his slowly.

the moan he emits is heavenly and she could cry because she finally gets to hear it in person and not through the crackling static frequency of the phone.

so she grinds down on him again, eager to feel all of him. he's hardening against her core and she whimpers into his mouth in need as his fingers slip under her top, rubbing circles on her bare skin and making her shiver. she's noticed to this gentleness; it was rare when she did get to enjoy the comfort of another body with her own, and when she did they were hardly half as loving or caring as him.

she's desperate now, she needs to feel him inside her after all these weeks of teasing and waiting, so her hand snakes down to palm him through his sweats. he lets out a small groan into her mouth, biting her lip as he pulls back slightly. their eyes meet and his are hooded with lust, lips parted as she pumps him slowly from outside his sweats. his hips buck up lightly into her palm and she smiles gently, kissing him slowly.

"let me make you feel good, y/n." he mutters, eyes pleading as he stares up at her. her stomach flutters with butterflies and she nods, shocked that he wants to pleasure her.

he gently pulls her off his lap until she's laying on his mattress and he stares down at her, biting his lip as he takes her in. he can't fucking believe she's really here. she slowly pulls off her top, leaving her in her bra and jeans as she stares up at him with a wry, seductive smile. then she unzips her jeans and slides them off, leaving her in his favorite set of hers - black, lacy, and revealing. she looks utterly stunning and he groans, his hands falling to run over the skin, tracing the lace on her breasts. her cheeks are red as she gazes up at him.

"touch me, richie." she orders and he almost groans as he drags his lips over the valley of her breasts, sucking on the soft flesh and admiring the splashes of budding purple and pink that he's created. her heartbeat is quick under his fingertips and he moves to unclip her bra, kissing her skin as the fabric falls away.

she's slightly cold in his room, and goosebumps appear over her flesh as richie leans to catch a nipple in her mouth, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. she lets out a quiet whine that has richie rutting into the mattress next to her, his fingers trailing down to dance at the waistline of her underwear.

and then he's pulling aside her panties, his fingers running up and down her slick folds and making her jump in lust. he can't wait, just like her, and he's rubbing her clit teasingly as she pleads, "chee, please."  her eyes are eyes closed in bliss as his finger slips inside her, crooking slightly as he moves it. he presses his lips to the skin of her breast, pumping his finger and then soon adding another, crooking them both in a way that makes her let out guttural moans of pleasure. he marks her breasts with littered pink and red marks, smiling to himself at her figure.

she can't help but swoon as she watches him, his hair in his face slightly until she brushes it back, his fingers curling inside her and making her gasp, pleasure coursing through her body. his thumb softly comes up to rub her neglected clit and she grabs his shoulders to steady herself, the pleasure almost too much.

she's honestly slightly shocked - knowing richie as little as she really does outside of the literal booty calls at two in the morning and the accumulative forty five minutes they'd spent in person, she'd expected him to be... well, good. just good. because there's no way someone so funny, caring, and smart could also be that good in the sheets.

but right now, he's making her see goddamn stars.

"i've been wanting to touch you for so long, sugar." he mutters, eyes raking over her figure as her breath comes in stuttering gasps. she watches him with blown-wide eyes as his demeanor changes right before her, making her fall apart at his fingertips.

"that feel good, honey?" he asks, smirking as she whimpers, clenching around his fingers. "yes, god you feel so good." she utters, making him groan in approval from where he's sat back, watching her face contort in pleasure. she lets out another moan and richie stares at her body, watching his fingers as they fuck into her. he can't take it, then.

"will you sit on my face, doll?" he blurts, and she nearly yelps out as his fingers leave her. it's abrupt, but she's started to notice that this is how he operates - impulsivity is his second nature. and she loves it.

her face burns as she nods, the thought of richie under her making her whimper with anticipation. "yes, richie, please." she moans out again and he's grinning, laying back on the mattress with a wink. "c'mere, need to taste that pretty little pussy." he mutters and she feels herself clench around nothing, desperate for him as she swings a leg around to straddle his head.

immediately, his hands wrap around her thighs, thumbs smoothing over her stretch marks as he stares up at her, eyes glinting with desire. slowly, his finger pulls the seat of her lace panties to the side and his breath hits her bare, throbbing pussy, making her breath hitch. she cards her fingers through his hair and lowers herself slightly, gasping in shock as his tongue darts out to lick a bold stripe up from her entrance to her clit.

"chee," she moans out, tightening her grip in his hair and sending a groan through his body that reverberates and makes her shiver. his lips attach to her clit and fiery pleasure snakes through her body making her legs shake, a moan escaping her lips immediately. he sucks lightly before releasing to swirl his tongue, her moans making richie impossibly harder through his sweats.

"so good, rich." she mutters and he groans, tongue spreading her wet folds and slowly prodding at her entrance, dipping in slowly before pulling out, teasing her.

she can't help but grind down slightly, making richie grip her tightly, tongue sliding into her again and making her yelp. "you taste so good, baby." he mutters lowly before slowly reattaching himself to her heat, her eyes rolling slightly at the sensation as he fucks his tongue into her. one of his hands snakes up to her ass, gripping it tightly and then slapping it, the stinging pleasure making her buck her hips against him, emitting a hiss from her.

"rich, i-" she cuts herself off with a sharp gasp, the pleasure from richie's mouth making it increasingly harder to speak. her toes curl and her head tilts back as his tongue flicks over her clit, teeth grazing it slightly and making her buck.

she's embarrassingly close already, and judging by the way richie's smirking under her, he can tell. "please, please." she mutters, hips rocking on him as his tongue swirls, nipping softly at her clit and making her cry out. "please, make me cum, 'chee." she mutters and his tongue moves quicker, hand slapping her ass again.

and then she's clenching her thighs on either side of him and grinding down as she hits her peak, moaning quietly as she shakes in pleasure on top of him. he rides through her high, lapping at her and pulling away with a grin as she moans his name dejectedly. she's worn out from the best orgasm she's ever had and he gently nudges her so he slides in between her thighs, her back now on the mattress. he kisses her cheek and she keens quietly.

"fuck me, richie." she mutters, eyes still closed. his eyes snap to hers, surprised at the dominance in her voice after how she was two seconds ago.

he moans quietly, kissing her deeply as he ruts against her and relishes in the feeling. he's pulling off his sweats and boxers in record time and then he's pumping himself as he grips her hips, turning her so she's on her stomach, ass propped up slightly. his hand runs over the smooth skin of her ass, snapping the elastic of her panties and making her moan quietly.

then he's lining up her hips with his, pulling aside the lacy seat of her underwear to press against her entrance. he waits a moment as he leans to press a soft kiss to her spine, slowly easing into her. she moans loudly as he eases in, her face pressing against the pillows. she smiles as she smells the scent she'd just recently come to know as his, his cock stretching her and filling her up fully as he buries himself to the hilt inside her.

"so tight, sugar." he mutters and she whimpers, getting antsy as she adjusts to his size. "richie, please, need it so bad." she mutters, bucking her hips back against him in need.

"say that again." he mutters, sounding strangled, and she grins into the sheets. "please fuck me, richie. need it so bad, need to feel you ruin me." she whimpers, chest fluttering in anticipation. his hands grip her hips as he pulls out of her slowly, almost as slowly as he entered, before stopping almost all the way out. she moans loudly in pleasure as he pushes back in, snapping his hips against hers and filling her completely.

she briefly thanks god that his roommate seemed to be out for the night as she moans his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

he sets a brutal pace, his cock thick as it fills her up and makes her toes curl. he pushes her hair away from her neck and presses kisses to it as he hits a spot inside her that makes her scream his name. his fingers move to pinch her nipples, rolling them as he fucks into her.

she's completely blissed out at the feeling of him inside her, so glad that he invited her over and that they finally get to touch each other. "rich, oh my god." she emits, eyes squinted shut in complete pleasure.

"fuck, toots, takin' me so well, aren't you?" he asks, hands kneading her ass before slapping her right ass cheek harshly, making her arch her back. at the new angle they both let out a groan and richie knows he'll fucking cum too soon if they stay like this, so without warning he pulls out completely.

y/n whines, breathing heavily as his hands come to flip her around. now on her back, they make eye contact and she bites her lip, pulling him in for a searing kiss that knocks the wind out of both of them. images of richie in his room alone, snaps and late-night face times play through her mind as he grips her and slides her hips down towards him on the mattress and lines himself to her again, pulling her legs up so they're against his chest before pushing in.

he gives no time to adjust to this angle and it makes her moan loudly as he hits a spot deep inside her that pulls her closer and closer to her second orgasm.

his name leaves her cherry lips like a mantra and he can't stop staring at her as he fucks her into the mattress - the way her tits bounce with his brutal pace, the way her face is twisted in pleasure, the way she clenches and spasms around his cock.

one hand grips her breast, rubbing her nipple with his thumb and forefinger as he kisses her again, addicted to her taste as he feels himself coming closer and closer to the edge.

"chee, fuck, right there." she moans out and he groans in pleasure, the feeling of her walls clenching around him making his hips stutter. he keeps his thrusts up, though, as her fingernails rake down his back leaving small trails of burning pleasure in their wake.

her skin is covered with a sheen line of sweat as she looks up at him, hair wild and lips kiss-bruised. "god, don't stop, 'm gonna cum." she mutters and he snaps his hips harder, eager to make her cum so hard all she can think of is his name.

he moves a hand down to rub at her clit and he moans into her neck as she clenches hard around him, her hips bucking spastically. he can tell she's about to cum, and after a hard thrust, she does for the second time, spasming around him and sending waves of pleasure up his body. she's moaning his name, pulling him closer in bliss as she becomes sensitive and god damn it, she's so fucking beautiful.

"please cum, richie." she whispers against his lips, "please."  and then at her will, he's spilling into her, hips stuttering as he pushes as deep into her as he can, loving how she clenches in sensitivity around him. he stays inside her for a moment as they breathe, coming down from their highs and eyes closed as they take in what just happened.

"holy shit." he says because yeah, that's like all he can say right now because he just got to fuck y/n and she's kissing his fucking collarbones right now and its making him blush and his heart flutter.

"that was...incredible." she whispers against his skin and he can feel her smile against his skin. it makes him feel all soft inside as he pulls out of her and flops next to her, kissing her forehead.

his fingers flutter over her sensitive core, smiling as he sees how wrecked she is, some cum dripping down her leg. he then soothes over the lace panties, patting her lightly and kissing her red cheek.

"rich?" she asks, making him look up at her. he hums in question, pushing some of her hair back. "can we still watch the movie?"

his heart swells and he grins, kissing her softly. "of course, doll. you're too cute." he says with a wink, making her roll her eyes. he hands her his shirt and then pulls sweats on himself, mumbling "stay here" and padding out to the kitchen to get her water and snacks,  then returning minutes later to see her holding his phone in her clutch with a smirk.

"what're you doing?" he asks with a smile, but she shakes her head, making grabby hands for him and the snacks. so he laughs, cuddling up with the girl of his dreams and watching a flick, falling sleep with tangled limbs and a lipstick-stained neck.

and after she leaves the next morning with a kiss and a wink, he checks his phone and smirks to himself as he notices the lock screen she'd apparently made last night while he was making snacks.

a photo of her in his bed, wearing his shirt, a soft smirk on her face, neck littered in budding hickeys and a hand between her thighs next to her black lace panties.

god, she's going to be the absolute death of him.

//tag list:  @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @simplesammyx @dickology64 @clownsloveyou @emnotm @moon-shine-baby @toziershmozier @daughter-of-the-stars11 @lets-vibe-bro @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @beauregard-s@finnskindofwoman  @kait-tozier @upamongthestarss \\

[yet-another-fan-girl9]

Make You Mine

Request: Bucky x reader where reader works as Tony's assistant/ works in the lab and is an introvert and is secretly in love with Bucky and decides to confess her feelings through a letter, and to sing a song for him through Tony's party (but being shy, tried to make a slight disguise

Warnings: language

Word Count: ~3600

A/N: Sorry this took a long time, but here it is... Thanks for the song recommendation @leniram1890 I can’t tag u for some reason :(

Your shoes squeaked on the marble floor in the Avenger’s tower lobby and your white lab coat fluttered behind you. You were fully aware of how the sound drew attention towards you and you couldn’t wait to seek shelter in an empty elevator.

Right before the doors slid shut, though, one person managed to join you. Tall, broad shoulders, and a metal arm, Bucky Barnes stood in an elevator with you and only you. You shrunk back into a corner, hugging the papers to your chest. If it were anyone else, you probably would have been fine, but you couldn’t help glancing over at Bucky every minute. Why the fuck did the tower have to be so tall?

“You don’t have to be scared of me, you know,” Bucky broke the silence and your heart jumped up to your throat.

“Oh, no, I’m not scared of you,” you sputtered. You should have stopped talking there, but of course, you didn’t. “Not in the way that you think, anyways. It’s not even you, really. It’s me. I’m just nervous about embarrassing myself because I can be awkward sometimes. Like now, so I’m just going to… stop talking. Oh, fuck me,” you muttered under your breath. 

“Take me on a date first,” Bucky chuckled. How did he hear— oh, right. He was a super-soldier with superhuman hearing.

“No, I didn’t mean— shit. Really gotta stop talking.” You stared at your feet, your face burning.

“Don’t worry about it.” He was silent for a minute. “You’re Stark’s assistant right?” You smiled softly and nodded, sticking to your words of no longer speaking. “I’ve seen you around the tower and we’ve spoken a few times.”

You wouldn’t really call passing on a message as a real conversation, but at least he remembered you. Tony had hired you as his lab assistant right out of college. It was a well-paying job and the billionaire was a great boss. In the many years you had been working for him, Tony had naturally taken the role of a father figure. You knew of Bucky and Tony’s history, so you knew your boss would have some words about your crush.

When you finally reached your floor, you didn’t know if you were relieved that your embarrassment was about to end or if you were disappointed that Bucky would leave. You walked by him and off of the elevator, turning around one last time to smile and wave at the supersoldier. 

“See you around, Bucky,” you managed to say.

“See you around, (y/n).”

The elevator doors slid shut just in time to hide the large grin that crossed your face. Bucky knew your name. You had to suppress a squeal that you knew you would never live down because Natasha was walking towards you.

Tony had hired you around the same time he had hired ‘Natalie Rushman,’ so you’ve been friends with Nat for a while. Unfortunately, it just made it easier for her to read you, and as much as you tried to play cool, she could tell something was up. You walked down the hall with her and she had the decency to wait until you made it to the lab to ask her questions.

“What happened?”

“Nothing happened.” You placed the files on your desk and sat down, discreetly slipping a hand written letter into a drawer.

“Something happened with Bucky.”

“Bucky?” you scoffed. Nat knew about your not so small crush on the metal armed supersoldier, of course. You had told her because she was your friend, but also because she would have figured it out another way.

“Yes, Bucky. You have that faraway look in your eye that you always have after a Bucky encounter. I think you two were in the elevator together.”

“Why’d you ask if you already knew?” 

“So tell me all the details.” Nat sat on the table.

“I was just in the elevator, he joined me. We were in there alone and I was awkward. The end,” you shrugged. “He knows my name, though,”

“It’s meant to be.”

“Oh, shut up.” You threw a pen at her, but the hero caught it. “Now, as much as I enjoy your company, I have to work.”

“Okay, okay.” Nat tossed your pen back to you and hopped down. “But one of these days you’re going to have to make a move. I’m getting sick of your yearning.”

“One, I’m never going to make a move and, two, I don’t fucking yearn.”

“Yes, you do.” Nat opened the lab door. “It’s exhausting.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yearning. You're a yearner. Yearny yearner.”

“Goodbye, Nat.”

She disappeared and you took a peak at a piece of paper on your desk.

🎶🎶

The lab was empty, your boss was off somewhere testing out his new suit designs so it was now or never. You took out a small drone you had been perfecting and folded up your handwritten note.

Dear Bucky,

I’m writing this because this is the only way to express the way I feel about you. I don’t think I’ll ever send this to you so you’ll never see this, but I think I love you. Damn, it feels so strange writing that. Even thinking it is weird, I’ve never felt this way before. 

You’re an amazing person and I know you sometimes doubt that, but it’s true. You are kind to everyone. Your smile lights up any room and makes my day. 

I wish I could say this to your face but I would be too scared nervous and awkward.

I just wanted to pull these words from my mind.

I love you.

~Someone Unimportant

You really wouldn’t have thought you were actually going to deliver this to Bucky, but after this morning’s events, you had a small surge of courage. Also you knew that if Nat found it, she would totally tell him.

The drone’s claw grasped the letter and you piloted it into the vents. You knew Bucky should be at training with Steve and that his room was connected to a vent outside of the lab. You kept an eye on your tablet while you guided the drone through the vents. When it reached Bucky’s room the drone slipped the paper through the grates before you directed it back to you.

You grabbed the drone out of the vent and darted back into the lab. A small laugh slipped past your lips. You felt lightheaded and your heart was racing, but there were no taking it back now.

🎶🎶

The smell of your lunch filled the kitchen. Music played from your headphones and you scrolled through your phone as you waited for the microwave to go off. A sudden tap on your shoulder caused you to spin around and rip out your earphones.

“Oh, my god, Bucky,” you gasped and placed your hand over your chest. “Don’t do that again. You scared me.”

“I thought I didn’t scare you?” Bucky asked but he had a smile on his face. It had been a day since your last encounter with him. A day since you had left the note in his room. The thought of him reading your confession made your face burn.

“You know what I mean.”

“What are you doing up here?”

“Someone broke the microwave downstairs and I have access to the upper levels because of Tony, so I just came here.”

“You should come up here more often. I like seeing you.”

“I like seeing you too,” you said slowly. Was that a stupid reply? Maybe.

“What are you listening to?” He nodded at your earphones.

“Just some music. A love song called ‘Make You Mine.’ Do you want to..?” You held out one earbud to Bucky.

He took it and you played the song. You paid close attention to his reaction at different parts. The chorus started to play and he smiled along with you. You had to stand near him, nearer than you ever had before, so that both of the earphones would stay in.

“It’s a good song,” he decided when it ended.

“I know it’s not really your vibe,” you chuckled.

“No, no I liked it.”

You were taking it as a compliment that Bucky hadn’t moved away from you yet.

“I smell food,” Clint announced when he walked into the kitchen. “What’s cooking? Oh, hey, (Y/N).”

“Hi, Clint,” you cleared your throat and stepped back.

“You know each other?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, through Natasha.” Nat had quickly introduced you to Clint and you became friends. Nevertheless, Clint obviously didn’t know about any boy drama.

“Has she been talking your ear off?” Clint rummaged through the fridge.

“We’ve been listening to some music, but I’m surprised that she hasn’t remained true to her vow of silence.”

“Vow of silence? Man, sometimes I couldn’t get her to stop talking. Sure, she was quiet at first, but once you brought up something she was passionate about, she would just keep going.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize the microwave went off,” you cut in and grabbed your food. “Uh, I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, see you,” Bucky replied, sounding almost… forlorn?

No, that’s just your hopeful mind searching for any possibility that he could like you back. You scampered back down to the lab and tried to focus on the report you were working on. Hours later, you had only completed a page and a half.

“Knock knock,” Nat’s voice drew your attention away from the page you’ve been staring at for the last hour. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure.” You shut your computer and rubbed your eyes. “I can’t focus at all. I need a break.”

“That’s why I’m here.” She sat on the table, mimicking the position she was in this morning. “A little birdy told me about an encounter in the kitchen.”

“You know what? I don’t really need that break.”

“Oh, come on. I know you want to talk about it.”

“Fine,” you groaned. You paused before speaking. How much detail should you tell her? “I was microwaving my food and Bucky showed up. We listened to some music until Clint showed up.”

“And were you mad about that?”

“I guess. Not really ‘mad’ but a little disappointed. When I left I thought Bucky sounded a bit sad to see me go, but I really think it’s just my imagination.”

“Why would you think it was your imagination?”

“Stop acting like a fucking therapist.” You sank into your desk chair. “It was my imagination because I don’t want to have stupid hope.”

��Clint said he heard it too,” Nat said nonchalantly.

“That’s bullshit.”

“And why do you think it’s bullshit?” She pretended to take notes.

“Shut up. My break’s over. I need to get back to work.”

“What you need to do is confess your feelings for Bucky. You know the party Tony’s having tonight, right? Of course, you do. You’re his assistant, but anyways, I came up with the perfect plan.”

“That doesn’t sound promising,” you muttered and opened your laptop only for Natasha to slam the lid closed.

“You’re going to go to the party and by the end of the night, I guarantee that you will be with Bucky.”

“I can’t go, I don’t like parties,” you tried to protest. “I won’t have any time to get ready. It starts in an hour.”

“I’m sure Tony, your boss, would want you to go to his party.”

“I can’t go,” you repeated. “I’m sure Tony, my boss, would want me to do my work.”

“Well, you can’t work if you don’t have your computer.”

Before you could react, Nat grabbed your laptop and ran out of the lab. It barely took you a moment to register what had just happened but in that time, Nat had almost made it to the stairwell. You bolted out of the lab in a feeble attempt to catch your friend. You made it to the stairwell and looked up and down to try to find Nat.

“Up here!” she called in a sing-song voice.

You looked up to see her red hair at least two stories above you.

“Motherfucker,” you swore and began to climb up the stairs, taking two at a time. “Nat, I will literally rip your fucking guts out.”

“You can try,” her voice echoed down to you and it was followed by a door closing.

You finally arrived at a residential floor. Nat’s room was here, so you left the stairwell. Your best guess would be that she would go to her room. Someone cleared their throat and you whirled around.

“We just keep running into each other today,” Bucky chuckled.

“Oh, yeah, I suppose we do,” you stuttered.

You could only imagine what you looked like. Out of breath, hair slightly wild.

“Nat,” you explained. “Nat took my computer.”

“That makes sense. Uh, are you going to the party later?”

“Well, if Nat doesn’t return my computer, I can’t do any work, which means she’ll force me to go.”

“I can understand. Steve always makes me go. Speaking of Steve, I have to go meet up with him. I hope I see you tonight.”

“Yeah, tonight.”

You watched him leave before storming into Nat’s room. Her room was suspiciously void of your computer. She walked out of her closet with a few dresses. 

“It’s formal, right? Black tie and all that?”

“Um, yeah.” Might as well give up. You had the feeling you weren’t going to go back to work.

“I’ve created the perfect look for you. Oh, and don’t worry about timing, we’ll be fashionably late.”

“You’re insufferable,” you said but took the dress she handed you. One glance at it and you instantly knew you would not be able to wear it.

“Why not?” she asked when you told her that. “You haven’t even tried it on yet.”

“First, it’s a V neck and I cannot do V necks. Second,” you held the dress up to your body, “it’s too short.”

“Please, just try it on?”

“If those are deal breakers, try this one.”

It was a black, pleated, off the shoulder dress. The front came down to your lower thigh while the back ended past the back of your knee. You stared at it for a moment, trying to picture it on yourself.

“I’ll get the shoes that go with that.”

“But I didn’t say I chose this one.”

“Well, you have no choice now.” She sat you down and brought out her makeup. “This is my plan. Tony lets people use the mic every once in a while, so you’re going to sing.”

“That’s an instant veto on that plan,” you interrupted.

“You have a beautiful voice.” Nat powdered your face and you crinkled your nose.

“I regret telling you.”

“Do it. Do it. Do it,” she chanted.

“Nope. No singing. I honestly cannot sing in front of people. I’ll fucking throw up all over the crowd.”

“What if it’s not you?”

“What do you mean?” You narrowed your eyes at your friend while she dabbed lip gloss onto your lips.

“You know, like an alter-ego.” You began to protest but before you could say anything she continued, “Just hear me out. We get you a nice wig, and introduce you as… ‘Susan Pevensie.’”

“Seriously? Narnia?” You both rolled your eyes. “But wouldn’t that kinda defeat the purpose? I sing, what? A love song to Bucky?”

“No big dramatic change, just a wig. Maybe a bolder eye. That way, it’s not you, it’s… shit, I can’t think of a good name.”

“Hermione Granger? Katniss Everdeen?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Fine. Just a wig and makeup, though. I don’t need to be introduced to the stage.”

“You’re going along with it?” The excitement in her voice was obvious.

“What do I have to lose? I’ve pretty much accepted defeat already.”

“No, don’t think like that. You’re going to blow everyone’s fucking socks off tonight. Now go put on the dress. Don’t ruin the makeup!”

A few minutes later you walked out, the black dress and shoes on. Nat smiled and admired her work. She had donned another dress and had somehow completed her hair and makeup. A few wigs had been laid out on the bed.

“Pic one. I’m particularly drawn to this one.” She pointed to a long, maroon wig. You nodded silently. “Are you ready?”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “I might regret this.”

“You might not. Most people won’t notice unless you really fuck it up. They’ll most likely be focused on their conversations. And if they don’t there’s the ol’ picture everyone naked trick,” she winked.

“How inspiring.” You smoothed down the dress and looked in the mirror one last time. Nat did a good job in slightly altering your appearance. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

You walked down to the party together. It was already in full swing and you didn’t see anyone you knew. Your palms were clammy. The alcohol looked inviting but you couldn’t bring yourself to grab a drink. Who knew what you might do if you were drunk.

“Should I do it now?” you whispered to Nat.

“There’s no time like the present,” she replied before she vanished into the crowd.

“Fantastic,” you muttered under your breath. You had no other choice but to head to the stage. “H-hello, can I sing something?”

The man supervising the microphone looked at you and nonchalantly handed you the mic. “What song?”

What song? Brilliant question. What question? There was one song that instantly came to mind.

“Erm, do you have ‘Make You Mine’ by Us the Duo?”

He nodded silently and pointed you towards the stage. You walked towards the stage, tugging on your dress and fiddling with the mic. In addition to clammy hands, you were now shaking. How did you let Nat talk you into this again?

You stood in the center of the stage for a few seconds before the music began. Nat was right, people only glanced up at you before returning to their conversations. The soft strumming of the guitar began to play and you started to sing the words you knew by heart.

“If summer is for lovers, then consider me in love. I found the one, oh I found the one that I've been dreaming of.” You were still nervous and timid, matching the speed of the song. “If friends are what you're looking for, consider me a friend. But I'll break apart and take your heart before this story ends.” You looked around the room and spotted Bucky. His blue eyes locked onto yours. “This is the part where we fall in love.” You looked away as the song sped up. “Tonight I will make you mine. I will make you mine. I will make you mine. If you let me. If you let me.”

Somehow, you were able to finish the sing without fucking up. You stepped off the stage and handed the mic back to the guy. You awkwardly looked around.

“That was very nice,” a voice said behind you.

“Goddamn Bucky,” you gasped and spun around. “You’ve got to stop scaring me!”

“It’s kind of loud here, do you want to head somewhere?”

You nodded and followed him out to a balcony. The cool air felt fresh on your skin. You walked to the edge and looked over the edge, looking out at the city lights.

“Can I ask about the wig?” he smirked.

“It was Nat’s idea. Something about helping me to be less nervous.” You tugged the wig off and freed your natural hair.

“Did it help?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

“Well, whatever the case, you did amazing. You have a really nice voice.”

“Thanks. I usually don’t sing publicly.”

“I also really liked the song. I’m starting to think of it as our song.”

“We have a song, huh?” you smiled up at him.

The moon was high, and the sounds of the party were muted.

“You look really beautiful.” He took a step closer.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Sarge.”

“Thanks, but suits aren’t really my favorite thing.” He tugged on his sleeves.

“You always look good, Bucky,” the words came out as a whisper. “You have a nice smile.”

“You know, I got a letter the other day.”

“Oh, did you?” You looked away.

“Thank you for everything you’ve said.”

In a heartbeat, Bucky’s lips were on yours. His hands placed gently on your waist. You kissed him back with all the emotions you had been keeping inside you and ran your fingers through his hair.

The two of you separated for air and Bucky leaned down and rested his forehead on yours. You smiled and laughed long lightly.

“Honestly, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that for.”

“We can do it some more.”

You nodded and he pressed his lips to yours again. Unfortunately, you two weren’t able to get far because you were forced apart by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

“We just came to tell you how well you sang,” Clint spoke first. Behind him Nat stood with a smirk on her face. Tony stood next to her, lips pursed, thinking. “But I’ll leave you to it.”

“I told you,” Nat winked before she too turned around and went back into the party.

“So,” Tony began. “Good song.” You saw his eyes dart between you and Bucky and your close proximity to each other. Then he re-entered the building.

“He’ll come around,” you hoped out loud.

“I don’t know. He doesn’t like me.”

“He’ll come around,” you repeated. “In the meantime, do you want to get dinner?”

[wonderland-in-bloom]

both from afar

[leona kingscholar x shy!fem!half animal!reader]

anon asked: Hello~ Can I request for a shy!fem!reader x Leona please? And if you like, you can make the reader half-human half-animal too! ( Like Savanaclaw boys ). Thank you in advance!!

okay i had no idea how to properly describe that in the title and now there’s the confirmation! and holy heck leona is a popular boi, i have one more pending request with leona. y’all leona stans will be fed. 

♡

"HEY, what are you looking at?” you felt your ear twitch and you felt your tail did a small jump. “hey jack-kun! nothing...” you nervously chuckled to brush his question off and slowly backed away from the wall. “your tail has been wagging the whole time. are you looking at leona again?” on instinct, you jumped and covered his mouth with your hands by practically slapping them on top of it. “jack-kun! s-shut up! who knows if he can hear you?!” 

here you were, (y/n) (l/n). a first year in savanaclaw who was already head over heels for the intimidating dorm leader, leona kingscholar. jack howl was basically your right-hand-man, your best friend. you would listen to your countless ramblings about the fellow dorm leader. he was tired of you at times but nonetheless he was still there by your side since day one since the both of you were childhood friends coming from the same place. “okay. okay.” he brought your hands away from his mouth. “and you’re not going to make a move on him?” he asked you. you bit the inside of your bottom lip. “jack you know me...i’m not really good at talking to other people.” he was the one who first approached you when you two were younger anyways. “you’re going to have to tell him someday you know.” he told you. “yeah...just not today.” you smirked and was going to turn around to your amazing senpai fly across the field on a broom. 

however this fantasy of your’s was cut short as you bumped into someone’s chest. “a-ah...sorry.” you whispered and looked up to face none other than leona himself. “ah! leona-senpai! i’m sorry! i didn’t see-” you were freaking out with your whole face flushed and tail visibly trembling. a full 360 degree turn in your personality from when you were alone with jack. “don’t worry about it.” he replied and started talking to jack. when they both were occupied you were basically dying from how embarrassed you were. you did not just bump into your crush! damn it (y/n)! you managed to look like a fool in front of leona-senpai and now he’s going to think you’re a total weirdo! he won’t be with someone like you! you can’t even tell him that you like him! you’re such an-

“hey (y/n).” you turned around and met leona’s eyes. you gave him a soft ‘mm’ and stood there fiddling with your thumbs. “wanna be my partner for ancient curses class?” your face flushed a hundred shades of red. “...what..?” out of all the people he could’ve chosen, he chose you? “i know you have a talent in ancient curses. so wanna be my partner?” you were dying over two things. one, he asked YOU to be his partner out of all the countless other students, and two, APPARENTLY HE PAYS ATTENTION TO YOU IN CLASSES! “uhm. yeah! sure! that’ll be great senpai!” you smiled as he started to leave. before he left however, he patted you on the head. “meet me in my room later at six okay?” you felt your heart drop. as soon as he was out of sight, you collapsed only to be caught by jack. “JACK! DID YOU HEAR THAT! HE WANTS ME,  ME TO BE HIS PARTNER!” you were squealing and just shaking jack. “BUT WHY OUT OF ALL PLACES DOES HE WANT ME TO WORK IN HIS ROOM?!” 

“quality time? i guess..?” jack spoke but he then chuckled. “have fun alright you two. make sure you actually finish the work and not do other things.” he left you there as a whole mess of a now dtysfunctioning being. it was several minutes until you had to go over to his room and work on whatever homework you had. it was just a small report, surely you’ll both get it done in fifteen minutes. ears twitching, tail trembling, you headed all the way to his room and knocked on his door. you heard a ‘come in’ and swung the door a bit too excitedly. “hey.” you chuckled but a small stutter could be heard. “come on, sit next to me.” he patted a spot on the bed next to where he was sitting. your face was red the whole entire time and your tail just couldn’t stop. at first you placed your books down on the bed and sat at the very edge. leona didn’t care however and just grabbed you and basically shoved you next to him. “okay let’s just get this over with-hey wait are you okay?” you looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “yeah...i’m fine. why?”

the next thing you knew, his face was literally inches away from yours. “your face is red...you don’t have a fever or anything right?” he placed his hand on your forehead and normally, you would react by flinching or jumping slightly but all you could do now was just freeze in shock. “i’m fine senpai...” you smiled and grabbed his hand and put it down. “you sure? don’t wanna just...rest or something?” you shook your head. “l-let’s just get this work done okay?” and so the next ten minutes was filled with awkward silence and the sound of pen writing on paper. it was extremely awkward but honestly you couldn’t break the silence. besides, you’d just make it more awkward for the both of you anyways. suddenly you felt a hand on top of your head. “eh?” leona was just placing his hand on top of your head and glaring at your ears. “you know your ears are really cute, right?”

“m-my ears...really?” he smirked. “you’re just cute in general.” you scooted quite a distance away from him and hid your face in your hands. “senpai...please don’t...” he chuckled. “it’s cute how you see me from afar in all our classes. you think i don’t notice you huh?” your eyes widened and you squeled. “aaaah! i’m sorry if it’s weird senpai! please don’t think i’m a weirdo or anything! i’ll stop if you want!” you rambled. “you’re not weird, (y/n). you’re just plain cute.” you finally had the courage to face him. “e-eh...really?” he engulfed you in a warm hug. “comfy...” you whispered to yourself as you relaxed into his embrace. “your tail has been wagging non-stop. are you really that happy?”

you felt like melting then and there. damn your uncontrollable and unconscious actions. “of course i am senpai! after all, you are hugging me.” he rested his chin on top of your head. “heh. cute.” 

♡

i love how different leona can be in all the fics i write abt him lololol. gotta keep a consistent personality here gais. and i also feel like i can’t write titles related to the actual content whooopsieeesss. 

- a♕

[ratsoh-writes]

My curiosity got me, so here is my submission for a match up.  Sorry it’s so long!  I look forward to seeing your reasoning.

PERSONALITY TRAITS:

MOM FRIEND:  I’m the friend that is almost over prepared for any situation and is protective, usually keeping others out of too much trouble or danger, but not stopping them from doing that stupid thing.  Some people will only learn from doing it and so long as it won’t seriously injure or kill them, go for it.  And I mean I am seriously prepared for most situations:  I have fluffy throw blankets and pillows in my car for those who get cold, extra towels just in case we somehow get wet, umbrellas/ponchos for those who need one, snacks/water just in case someone gets hungry/thirsty, first aid kit for small injuries, etc. Ironically, I am the only one without a kid so far.  

Extension of this would be my habit to act as the friend “nurse.”  Willing to spend hours taking care of a friend who isn’t feeling well and give platonic cuddles if needed.

Another extension of this is my need to feed anyone who comes over.  I think my love language is acts of service after typing all this. 

I’M LISTENING:  Always willing to offer an ear, even if I don’t believe I can council you.  Plus, for some reason, people just end up splurging life stories or something that is bothering them to me.  My life is mostly spent as that Naruto meme: “I have no clue what is going on, but I’ll pretend that I do.”  But I’m responsible about it, I won’t offer advice I’m not sure about and will usually refer you to someone else I feel is up to the task.

PATIENT:  Earned after years in customer service dealing with toddlers disguised as customers and also with friends who far exceed my energy levels.  It takes a good bit to anger me or very specific things to set me off, such as when I have asked you to please stop bringing up that stressful memory of mine again and again. 

I am told I am terrifying when I’m actually pissed.  Most times I don’t remember much when I actually snap, just that it happened, but details are fuzzy.  

CHILL:  My counselor once told me if I “Was any more laid back, I’d be on her floor.” And to a point, she is correct.  My house was on fire and my reaction wasn’t panic at the time, it was this odd calm that even when I reported the fire to my sister and authorities, they didn’t believe me until I showed them said fire.  I am reserved with those I don’t know well or are not comfortable around.  Once I trust you or you get me on a topic I love, I’m surprisingly passionate and animated.  

I feel this fits under here, but I also tend to do things at my own pace.  And not much can change that pace, but I will get what I set out to do done.

WHY ME?:  Too many people tell me I’m a natural leader, even got awards for it, but I never volunteer or want to be the leader in anything.  Usually, I just end up in that role somehow, some way.  Most times because I hate disorganized messes and those times the people I am with have trouble making concrete decisions and need some guidance to work out what they really want to do or the pressure to actually make a decision.  I may be an unwilling leader, but I will step up if needed.

WHIMSICAL:  Sarcasm, dry and sometimes cheesy humour, and an attitude to boot, but it’s rarely to be mean.  Most times it is me being playful and if I’m teasing you, that usually is a sign I like you and enjoy your company.  Plus, sometimes people need a little laugh or a spark of different emotion to get them out of a funk.  

INTEGRITY:  I could absolutely despise someone, but like hell I’m going watch them suffer.  In the same sense, if I take a job, I will do it right and not half ass it.  And far too many times I’ve had to step in and explain certain concepts in order to disperse negativity or help others see from another perspective to avoid adversity.  

CUDDLE BUG:  With people I am comfortable with, I am a cuddly person and do not mind a lot of skinship.  I am used to friends hanging all over me.  Plus, sometimes I just want to curl up someone as well.  

  STRENGTHS:  

Observant

Good communication skills & honest

Responsible & reliable

Full Size Human Heater.  I am ridiculously warm and always putting off heat.  Friends and coworkers alike use me as a portable heater.

Surprisingly good at being sly and collecting information if needed, like getting a shoe or ring size without tipping the person off it’s for a gift.  If they manage to call it, I always fess up and playfully make a fuss they ruined the surprise.

  WEAKNESSES:  

Terrible at lying, so I tend to simply keep my mouth shut instead

Willfully oblivious to flirting and absolute flustered mess once I am forced to recognize said flirting

Vast open waters terrify me

Tendency to keep my troubles to myself and try to solve problems on my own (don’t want to be a burden)

Can become despondent if I feel useless at times

  HOBBIES:

ART:  I’ve dabbled in several different medias, but my favorite is just a pencil or pen and any paper I can get my hands on.  I love drawing figures in dynamic poses.  Second favorite is sculptures built from wire.

COSTUMES:  I love Halloween, since it is the perfect excuse to make and wear my homemade costumes.  It also lets me challenge myself by making more complicated pieces like hooves, horns, and even chain mail.

BAKING/COOKING/CANDY MAKING:  I’m the cook in the house and I love it.  Seeing people enjoy my food is my favorite part.  Just don’t ask me for a recipe, I literally don’t have any and I won’t remember what I did.  

ORGANIZING/CLEANING:  I love puzzle games like Tetris and Catherine, and I love a challenge.  Combine the two by having me organize and rearrange a space to make it work and I am in heaven.

STORYTELLING:  When a story needs to be told, I am the one asked to tell it. Specifically I have such an entertaining way of telling it according to others.  Animated and colorful language, plus a few pit stops along the way with some side stories.  

  PET PEEVES:

CONTRARY:  Do not tell me to do something while I am doing it.  That will kill any motivation I had to do it.

BACKHANDED COMPLIMENTS:  It is possible to compliment someone without insulting them or others at the same time.  It just makes the compliment feel empty and negative.  And I tend to just hum and not reward that behaviour.  

TOO MUCH ATTENTION:  I don’t mind attention… from people I trust and are comfortable with.  Feel free to cuddle and coddle away.  But vast amounts of attention from those I feel are strangers or acquaintances will unnerve me (I have literally left functions immediately  where I walked in and was bombarded with shouts and attention aimed at me-sensory overload I guess).

  ODD HABITS:

NESTING:  No, I don’t think I have enough blankets and pillows.  Yes, the giant stuffed animal is needed and his name is Snuffie.  

CRUSH ME:  I’m serious, some days I need one of my friends or my bf to just lay all their dead weight on top of me.  It’s just oddly therapeutic.

NO, I’M NOT PREGNANT:  Just cause I ate that jar of olives in one sitting or suddenly was craving jalapeno juice and crushed ramen noodles.  There are never enough pickles and yes, I am determined to try every kind–I may have a vinegar addiction.

IRONY:  I bake some of the tastiest, sweetest desserts and make pralines and caramels, YET I myself do not favor sweet things. 

HANDS:  One thing I tended to do with nearly every boyfriend and guy friend I had was play with their hands and put their hands on my face/head.  I lived for being pet and having people play with my hair.    

NONVERBAL MOMENTS:  Sometimes words are just too much, so I instead make sounds.  Can be anywhere from a growl to a cat like noise, or the reliable “Nyeh.”

NO NOs:

I think I listed a few as I went through everything else, but ignoring boundaries is the main one.  If I tell you I’m not comfortable with something, do not make me repeat myself.  And usually that something is given a pass the first few times it is done before I say something and explain why I’m not comfortable with it.   

Example:  I have thick, curly hair, a product of my mixed heritage.  Well, sometimes I like to straighten it and I did just that one day.  Well, a coworker decided to make a backhanded compliment, stating I should stick to what works: straight hair over my natural hair.  I had gotten on him about it, but I decided to vent to a friend about what happened as well.  She proceeded to constantly repeat those hurtful words and while I knew she meant it playfully during those times, I had to stop her and sit her down, explain I don’t find it funny cause the words are linked to a hurtful, possibly racist memory that I didn’t want brought up again and again.   Thankfully she understood and stopped.  So, I don’t snap immediately and I understand sometimes a sit down needs to be done.

Ok first of all I gotta say that I absolutely loved reading your matchup!!! It’s so well organized, detailed, and the descriptions are pretty creative!!! Do you do any writing yourself, because you should!!! alright, geek out moment over.

i’ve got three guys you’re perfect for, but let’s go for the obvious one. HONEY!! 

You’ve checked off everything on honey’s list: caring, organized, laid back, and good for cuddling. Now here’s what he has to offer to the table: he will cuddle you back. This guy is the ultimate cuddle slut. You’ll never feel unloved with him. Honey is also a very thoughtful and appreciative guy. He likes caring for his partners. You may be the mom friend, but he’ll do his best to return that love as well.

Honey is a little awkward, but he’s also sensitive and empathetic to how others feel. If he puts his foot in his mouth, just tell him and he’ll never bring it up again. Plus this guy is just so honest and genuine that backhanded compliments aren't really a thing with him. 

Also you like costumes!!! He’s always wanted to try cosplay or theatre. You just might be the person to give him the courage to finally stick to one. 

dating honey includes:

cuddles upon heaps of soft things. He has his own collections of ridiculously soft blankets and pillows that he’ll happily add to your collection. Honey is also a master at pillow forts. 

honey is a good listener. He’ll be happy to just sit back and enjoy the stories you tell. There is start though, who is also the storyteller of the underswap home. Any funny story you give about your time together will be rewarded by star with a funny story from his and honey’s childhood, much to honey’s embarrassment

if you don't really like sweet things but love baking them, then honey and star will happily finish them for you. People are usually surprised about how just how much skeleton monsters can pack away. 

he’s a picky eater and will give you the wtf face when you fufil your weird cravings though lol 

Oh! Also if you’re wondering, the other two would’ve been either oak or coffee

[kamandzak]

Into the Great Night - Chapter 2

I started writing this book about a year ago and finished it ~7 months ago. Performing a big rewrite and this chapter is so dismally beautiful I can’t keep it to myself.

Context: Andrew Garland’s boyfriend of eight years has passed away and he is struggling

Recommended listening: Compass and Miracle by Two Steps from Hell

     It was foolish of me to think it would be any better at Tessa’s house. Merely leaving the place Greg and I had cohabitated didn’t mean our past would leave me; that my grief would leave me.

    It was no better sitting on Tessa’s couch as opposed to my own.

    It was still lonely. It was still joyless.

    It was still too cold.

      If that was my new normal…. If that was the life of which I would be forced to live for the rest of my days, I preferred to die.

      Tessa was worried. Beth was worried. Sara and Clara were worried. They all had the right to be. Mom and Dad still hadn’t reached out. I couldn’t say I was mad about it.

      For the first month I carried the same daily, depressive routine: Wake up, shower, watch videos, eat, shower again, sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat. Nothing to disrupt the morose mentality I held from the moment my eyes opened until they closed. Even in my dreams I continued being sad. I couldn’t escape – trapped forever.

    Jake’s constant messages of concern did nothing but send me sinking deeper and deeper into hazy nothingness. Peppered with queries about when I planned to emerge onto the gaming scene, along with the occasional ludicrous statement about how he understood my stuffy brain, each message was deleted as it was read. There was no reason to have those hanging around, reminding me why I was in Reno and not where I had once dreamed of making a life for myself.

      Whenever I closed my eyes, Greg’s face appeared in the dark. Maybe I was napping; maybe I was finally sleeping fully through the night; maybe I was simply blinking. Always, he was there.

    Sometimes it was a fleeting glance of what used to be the best part of my life. Sometimes I dreamed of things that had already happened, or things I wanted to be that would never come to light.

    One night, I dreamed we got married. Waking up was almost as painful as watching him die.

      Tessa was worried I’d off myself. It wasn’t like we talked about it or anything, of course, but I could hear her and Beth sitting over tea every weekend, hushed mutterings coming from her dining room table or her room or her little porch. My grief had thrown a wrench into the lives of those around me, Beth worrying about my life when she normally would work on lesson plans for her rambunctious class of first graders. When she was feeling brave, Tessa would ask why I kept my secrets down deep for so long. That right there was why.

    I had suffered from depression before but what I was feeling wasn’t just unadulterated sadness; it was a fierce, far more complicated set of emotions leading me to exist in a far more dangerous mindset than I had ever been in before. Instead of having an urge to kill the part of me that is making me feel so unbelievably yet nondescriptly sad, I wanted death. Death, full stop.

    Mom and Dad and Sara and Clara and Beth and Tessa weren’t good enough reasons to stay alive, and all I wanted was to see Greg just for another minute. I wanted to give up a life with my own flesh and blood just to see him again. I would have given up all the time in the world for one more night of SNL and inside jokes with a man who made me feel like so much more than who I actually was; a unextraordinary nerd with awkward social tendencies and difficulty communicating. With Greg I felt like I was more than just me; without him, I didn’t know who I was anymore.

    “Andrew! Your phone!” A crumpled ball of paper bounced off my head as Tessa’s voice cut through my outer shell, the sounds of my phone following her words. My phone beeped loudly, the tell-tale sign of a Facetime call on it’s way, and I dragged my finger across the screen to accept before I read the name. Each bodily movement seemed to take ten times longer than Before. I was living seconds behind reality.

    “Garland.”

Jake’s face popped onto my screen. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1….

    “Hi.”

    “You look like hell.”

Jake’s mouth stopped moving before I even put together the string of letters that made up his blunt statement.

    “Mm,” I managed.

    “You in Reno?” I nodded. “I’m heading out that way this weekend. Never been to Vegas believe it or not. Figured I’d go explore. Have you seen anyone since everything happened?

    “Andrew, want anything from the gas station?” Tessa stood in her door frame and as I shook my head she left without another word.

    “I’ll take that as a no?”

    “Yeah, no. No, I haven’t seen anyone. I don’t want to see anyone.”

    “What if they came to you? So you didn’t have to leave where you are?”

    “I’m not about to let a stranger into my sister’s apartment.”

    “We’re not technically strangers at this point, right?”

    “Why are you so hell-bent on meeting face-to-face?”

Jake paused, inhaling loudly, wheezily, in a way that reminded me of Greg; then again, everything reminded me of Greg whether it had anything to do with him or not.

    “The best thing that came out of the worst time in my life is now I can be empathetic to other people going through the same thing.”

The tiniest part of me wanted to know what he’d been through but the larger part didn’t have the brain power to care because what actually mattered didn’t exist anymore. I didn’t think Jake was purposely jabbing at open, festering wounds for the sake of cruelty; he was just caring for me.

    I didn’t want his caring. I only wanted one person’s caring and couldn’t get past the knowledge that I'd never have it again.

    “Let me know if you want someone to talk to. I’m only in Nevada for a couple of days. I won’t mind stopping. Really.”

    “Mm.”

    “I gotta go. Message me.”

The screen went black. Please Rate the Quality of your Call, a prompt stated, with the outlines of five stars beneath. I did no such thing.

    I wasn’t about to message him, even if I had a reason to do so. I wasn’t going to be messaging anyone because all conversations led back to Greg. How was gaming going? Was I still in Los Angeles? Was I still going to be on YouTube? All questions would eventually wind up being about him and the more I talked, the more I would have to remember. The more I would have to remember, the more I would have to feel, the more I would hurt.

    It started happening when I arrived at Tessa’s; my need for answers led me to the internet and introduced me to the term dissociation; I would simply leave my body. Up to the ceiling I seemed to float as if filled with helium, watching what was taking place below. Tessa waking up and making breakfast before going to her gaming room; her video editor Reese chatting with her about her upload schedule; Beth coming and going; myself sitting in the same spot on the same couch day in and day out.

    I didn’t know why it was happening, the only reasonable explanation being that I so desperately didn’t want to exist but was too much of a damn coward to kill myself. In the end, dissociation seemed like the best option. Just remove myself painlessly from my surroundings. Was certainly better than the alternative. It was peaceful, exiting the current plane and living somewhere else if only for just a few minutes.

    Live. That was the key word. I was still technically alive, my heart still beating and my stomach still digesting and my eyes blinking and lungs expanding with each breath. The human being my brain commanded was still moving. My mind was developed enough to operate on autopilot, doing the dumb things it had to do to keep everything in stasis. I ‘lived’, for lack of a better word.

    When I did gather the courage to look up what I was feeling on the internet, nothing made sense. Nothing could be remotely tailored to fit my situation. I could relate to none of it. These people with their inspiring stories and memoirs written in loving memoriam, and benches dedicated to loved ones… their experiences seemed to minimize what kept me awake at night. How were they able to do that? How could those strangers make me and my emotions feel trivial without even knowing me and without me actively posting in detail what was happening in my head? As hard as I tried to imagine those brave widows and widowers and left-behinds feeling the way I did, their stories always wound up being of getting over that tremendous loss.

    I didn’t want to get over it. If I got over it I would lose Greg forever. I’d already lost him once.

    The grocery lists of things I could do to help myself mocked me as I read the advice of people who claimed to know how to recover from the un-recoverable. Write them a letter, authors would write in silly, curly-cue fonts before giving me a whole page to write the letter, as if I was going to sit down and put pen to paper and tell Greg about something I saw that reminded me of our first date. List all the good times, one said, with bullet points for me to fill out five moments, as if every moment we had together wasn’t the best of my life. Find someone to talk to, another whimsically suggested as it reminded me that keeping my feelings inside was dangerous. As if I didn’t already know it was ripping me apart from the inside.

    They didn’t tell me how to start a letter to Greg where all I could do was say how much I missed him. They didn’t tell me how to find someone to talk to when I didn’t want to talk to anyone about anything. They gave me five fucking spots to talk about good times as if our six-year relationship could be reduced down to that many moments and no more.

    They said all of it was doable; they said that when the lost their husband or wife or boyfriend or girlfriend or best friend or grandparent or dog or whatever, those were the steps they took to recovering and moving on.

    They weren’t me, though. They weren’t me and they weren’t Greg and they weren’t the set of circumstances under which we had lived. Even if half of the equation was there, the other wasn’t. Maybe their loved one was sick. Were they sick with the same ailment, or one that carried similar stigma? Did they purposely risk illness for the sake of their significant other or family member or friend? Did their risk become reality because fate can be an unnecessarily cruel mistress? Did they love the other person so much they shortened their own life?

    The door opened and couch shifted as Tessa’s hands landed on the sides of my face.

    “Andrew”

I cracked at her voice, her icy hands wrapping around my head and pushing me against her. Worming my arms under hers, I clung to her small shoulders, weeping into her jacket sleeves. Eyes screwed shut I gasped for air, seeing Greg in the darkness as he mirrored the same breathy sounds. While mine were of sadness, his were of death – the only sound of him I could manage to remember despite being together for so long. Tessa pulled at my non-resisting body and we sat together, tangled in a heap of coats and scarves and unwashed hair. Much like when we were young – when we didn’t understand what the world was about or why we were with the people we were with – and Tessa would protect me, we sat close, her love drowning out the pulsing drone of fear and hatred and sadness and anger rushing through my mind as it struggled to comprehend the incomprehensible.

    For several minutes, we sat in silence.

    “Andrew.”

    “Mm.”

    “I love you.”

    “I know.”     “And,” she finally pushed me off her body, holding me in front of her. Cold air hit my hot face, adhering the salty wash of tears to my skin, “And you can talk to me about anything you need to. I know you don’t want to. I know you think you’re strong enough. Maybe the only way to become strong is to not be.”

    “Where do I s-start?” I hiccupped.

    “Let’s get the team together,” she began, rising slowly and pulling me up with her. “Maybe they can help.”

    “But-.”

    “No one knows you like we do.”

      Hours later, beneath the door of Tessa’s bedroom, I heard her. I heard them.

    “You guys have to get here as soon as you can. Please.”

    “What’s the matter, Tess?”

    “I think it’s happening…. I think the numbness is wearing off. He’s starting to feel things again. It’s not that I don’t want to be here when it happens. I just don’t want to not have you guys here with us. I don’t know what do to.”

Greg’s death wasn’t supposed to be affecting my sisters as the sounds of their video call trickled through the under-crack of the door. It wasn’t supposed to be affecting Jake or anyone else but me and the Davis’.

    It was a stupid thought and their voices continued, muffled by my sense of inadequacy. Of course it would be affecting other people. It started doing so the moment Tessa posted my video. It started affecting the girls the second I told them I was having an emergency and they needed to come see me. What I hadn’t wanted was exactly what I had dug myself into when I welcomed other people into the hell-circle I was stuck in.

    I didn’t want them to come see me. I didn’t want Beth to take time off and Clara to leave Frank and Sara to leave Duncan to come take care of me. I was twenty-four. I should have been able to take care of me.

      The front door opened several hours later and I looked up with a faux look of surprise. Out, I sent them telepathically. Please go.

    “Why are you here?” Tessa rolled her eyes at my question.

    “Boy, don’t pretend like you weren’t listening on my Zoom call with them,” she cracked a smile before reading the room and immediately coming back to our reality. “You know why.”

    “We’re just afraid that there’s more to address than just your changing grief,” Beth began and bile began rising in my throat. It was only a matter of time really, before they put two and two together. I guess I had thought it would take a little longer. Her hand landed in the middle of my back, leading me to the same sofa where Tessa and I had broken down together.

    “Don’t worry about me,” I began confidently. “I’m just-.”

    But then I coughed. I coughed and coughed and the more I tried to regulate my breathing, the harder it was. Choking; gasping.

    Hands rubbed my back while others pushed me down and a another lowered a glass of water into my field of vision. Sip, choke, swallow, repeat until I could finally shakily inhale with difficulty.

    Looking down at me were four sets of beautiful, worried eyes with which I could barely stand to keep contact.

    Clara spoke,

    “Stage three.”     “What?”

    “That’s what you’re in, isn’t it? Frank just… just lost a patient and when I asked him, especially when Tessa told me about all of your shakes and fevers, he said he thinks it's stage three. I think I believe him.”

I was at a complete and utter loss. In my molasses-filled, sloths-paced brain, grief at the loss of Greg drifted beside my own secrets and the suffering of my sisters, bouncing off of one another like oil and water.

    “You don’t understand,” I finally said.

    “Don’t understand what, exactly,” Tessa asked pointedly, further questions and opinions trapped behind pursed lips. I could practically see them stabbing her mouth, begging to be released.

    “Everything!” I exploded. I hadn’t been truly angry yet; up until then anger had taken too much effort. What energy grief didn’t zap from my system the HIV stole for its own selfish purposes. “It’s all connected, isn’t it?” I asked, huffing out laughs like a mad scientist whose madness had taken over the scientist within. “I can’t tell the world about me and Greg because I’m afraid of people finding out I’m not straight. Then I’m with Greg and he’s so afraid of never having love and I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life, so then we take a risk and guess what? Protection fails. The risk becomes reality and I get HIV but I can’t talk about the love or the disease because it’s been ingrained in me since I was a child that people who get sick with this illness get it as recompense for their actions. I don’t believe it when I look at Greg but when I stare at myself in the mirror all I can hear is Dad’s voice. I go to clinics occasionally but only outside of town and without people I even sort of know because I’m afraid subscribers who have never seen my fucking face will recognize me and assume I’m going there for a reason I don’t want anyone to know about and guess what? They’re right! I don’t want them to know about going to get HIV treatment because I’m afraid of people finding out I’m not straight.”

    “Andrew-.”

    “We keep loving each other because hey, once I’m sick, we might as well, right?”

    “Andrew-.”

    “And then Greg dies. Greg fucking dies and I can’t tell anyone because I don’t have anyone and the only reason I don’t is because I spent the first seventeen years of my life having it ingrained in my mind that if I don't date, marry, and have a family with a beautiful woman, I’m damned to a life of eternal suffering.”

    “But we-.”

    “I can’t tell the gaming community because then Dad could find out. I can’t tell you guys or Mom because I feel bad that I kept it a secret for so long but I had to keep it a secret so I could stay safe and love the man I loved because I knew he didn’t have all the time in the world. So now I’m one serious infection away from dying because I didn’t do serious enough treatments to start with because I was so afraid of people finding out I’m not straight,” I nearly screamed, throat raw, standing up and spinning around to face my audience. “How the fuck am I supposed to deal with all of this?”

From all four sides, warm sweaters hit my torso as each sister came from a different angle and held on tightly, two of them shaking against me with emotion. Long nails raked through my hair, hands rubbed my back and arm and nape of neck; hair tickled my nose. Cold, dry lips pressed against my forehead.

    When I dared to observe who was directly in front of me, Sara had tears running down her slim cheeks.

    “This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” I whispered. “All it’s doing is making you sad.”

    “I would have been sad when you first told me, Andrew. Nothing keeps human emotion from happening. But you’ve kept it in for so long, and the longer it builds up the more explosive it is when you finally release the valve. If you told me six years ago that you were in love with a boy and were scared, I would have been so proud. I would have supported you in whatever you wanted to do… however you wanted to live your life. If you told me whenever you found out about being sick that you were sick, I would have been devastated. I still am. It’s just… complicated now,” she petered off as the others nodded in agreement.

    “I’m not mad at you, in case you think that,” Clara spoke. “I don’t think any of us are. In a way it’s nice to finally know all your dirty laundry so we can be here as a family. I know you have your reasons for doing what you did. We all do. There’s a lot to sort out. A lot to do. A lot of catching up that has to take place.”

    “There’s no timeline for this stuff,” Beth began and before I could stop myself, I opened my mouth,

    “AIDS, Beth. A. I. D. S.”

    “Grief, Andrew. G. R. I. E. F.”

    “Awesome,” I mumbled. “How am I supposed to do this?”

    “Not alone. We need to get you a doctor here,” Tessa said with a sad expression that, for a brief moment, I wanted to smack off of her face. “I haven’t seen you go since we moved. You don’t want to, but we don’t want to lose you.” I wanted to lose me but that was beside the point so I kept the words inside. “I can’t lose you,” she managed and faint sounds of stifled sadness cut through the quiet.

    “I know you want to go,” Beth said as Clara and Sara ushered Tessa away from the scene. “Not to the doctor, but to him. You want to go to Greg. Right now what we say won’t change that. Nothing we say will change how you feel. Nothing feels worth living for right now and I know that. When you go through something like this, you can tell other people you really do know what they’re going through. We aren’t worth living for right now and I understand that. There isn’t much we can do, but what we can do is make sure you’re eating and at least taking some medication. There isn’t much more to do right now than sustain yourself. Let us help.”

    “Okay.”     “You loved him. I understand that,” Beth whispered, wrapping her arms around me. “And you both did what you could with the time you had. Life’s unfair. I don’t know why things happen to people the way they do. I’m sorry.”

    “Why wasn’t my best good enough?”

    “Oh, Andrew. It was. I promise. There are just some things we can’t control. It’s horrible, isn’t it?”

[miastideclock]

The One Where The Dogs Gets Away (Bang Chan)

broooo, so I love this friends thing, but why not start off in smaller sections? Like maybe you could rewrite the part where Rachel lost Marcel(the monkey) and she and Ross fights?? But you're really good at angsty stuff, so throw some of that in there?? And could you do it w Chan??? I'm trash sorry

This is from when I asked if I should do Stray Kids as F.R.I.E.N.D.S. lmao its been a wHILE- SORRY

Word count: a lot 3,527

-

She could hear talking, but her mind was so utterly focused on the ticking of the clock that struck eight, that she didn't make out a single one of the words that were said.

"Corey?" Was what pulled her out of her train of thought. She snapped her head towards the speaker, and instantly apologized for not paying attention.

"Chan, sorry. This is so stupid!" She burst, referring to the incident they had talked about just previously. One of her colleagues was getting married, and that meant the entire project laid on Corey's shoulder. It was quite a massive one too. Corey didn't mind that her coworker was getting married, well maybe a little, but what really irked her was the fact that he coworker knew she was getting married that date, a year ago- and still said she could work the project, but the project would be in motion during her honeymoon.

"I should just be happy for them right? I can do some extra work. I am, I'm happy for them." She lied through her teeth, Chan instantly catching on, placing a hand on her back, questioning her truthfulness.

"No. Oh, I guess it would just be different if I were- with somebody. Like maybe I would understand her thinking more?" Corey sat back in her chair and picked at a noodle with her chopsticks. This caught Chans attention.

Ever since he first met Corey, he had been elbow deep in love with her. It was almost as if his whole life revolved around her, that everything he did was for her.

"Whoah, uh, what happened to 'Forget relationships! I'm done with men!' the whole penis embargo?" Chan mentioned, hinting to the thing she had sworn off after her last boyfriend, Hyunjin.  

They hadn't been a good couple at all. Corey and Hyunjin didn't even speak the same language, so it was hard for them to do anything else than makeout and have unnecessarily loud sex when they thought they were alone. Corey's roommate Changbin, didn't find that very fun.

In fact, everyone in their group was grossed out by it. Especially Chan, as he was the one most affected by it.

"Oh, I don't know. I guess it's not about no guys, it's about the right guy, y'know? I mean, with Seungmin, it was safe and it was easy, but there was no heat. With Hyunjin, that's all there was, was heat! And it was just this raw, animal, sexual-" Corey explained, but soon to be cut off by a severely uncomfortable Chan.

"Wait-wait. I got it. I was there." He smiled to hide the fact that he wanted to absolutely kill Hyunjin. Corey then grabbed Chans hands out of happit as they continued to chat. Chan had to admit to himself that there had never been a second in his life where he had to concentrate this bad to not kiss someone. Because there she was, the girl of his dreams, holding his hands, her face ten inches from his. Her brown eyes seemed soft and gentle as they looked into his, him getting lost in them.

"Well, I mean, do you think you can ever have both? Y'know? Someone who's like, who's like your best friend, but then also can make your toes curl?" She breathed as she continued to stare into his eyes. This made Chan's heart leap as she spoke. It was everything he had ever wished she would tell him, and more.

"Yes. Yes. Yes! Yes, I really do! In fact, it's funny, very often, someone who you wouldn't think could-could curl your toes, might just be the one who-" He started, building up the courage to confess and maybe even kiss her- but the moment was ruined when the owner of the apartment, Changbin, came home with friends.

"Hi." He greeted them and placed the groceries on the kitchen counter right behind Chan. Corey soon let go of Chan's hands and asked the group how the movie was. Jisung and Felix hated it, while Changbin and Woojin had been quite large fans of the film.

They discussed it for a few eternities according to Chan, all before he realized he had to leave. He had to take his dog, Berry, home.

"Alright, I've gotta go. C'mon, Berry! We're gonna take a bath. Yes we are, aren't we? Yes, we are!" Chan baby talked his dog as he got the leash on him. The King Charles Spaniel had been sleeping on the couch while Chan and Corey had been having dinner.

"They are still just friends, right?" Felix asked in a joking manner, implying that Chan and his puppy had a weird relationship. Most of them ignored him, and Corey walked over to the dog, petting him. "And I will see you tomorrow!" She grinned as Berry wagged his tail at her.

"That's right, you're gonna spend tomorrow at Aunt Corey's, aren't you?" Chan continued to baby talk, this however perked Changbin's attention. After all it was his apartment.

"Oh, hang on, hang on. Does Uncle Changbin get a say in this?" He asked, a brow raised as he was suspicious to the idea. Everyone knew how weird Changbin was about his apartment.

"Pwease, Uncle Changbin, pwease?" Chan picked up the dog and hid behind him, pretending it was Berry talking. He didn't seem even a tad bit interested, making Chan give up. "Oh, unclench. You're not even gonna be here." He added as he walked out the door with the dog.

Not long after, Corey went to bed, and before she knew it, she was dog-sitting Berry.  

"Now, now the one in the feather boa, that's Dr. Francis. Now, she used to be a man. Okay, now look, see, there's Raven. We hate her. We're glad she's dying. Okay- " Corey explained to the dog as they watched the television displaying a Spanish soap. As she was speaking, Berry knocked over a pillow revealing Changbins left yeezy.

"Berry, are you playing with Changbin's shoes? You know you're not supposed to pl-whoah. Berry, did you pee in Changbin's shoe? Berry, bad dog!" Corey continued to talk to the dog as she picked up the smelly shoe and held it at arm's length. She used some paper towels to clean out the pee as good as she can, then carried the paper towels over to the trash chute in the hallway, accidentally leaving the door open.

While throwing it down the metal drain, she heard a gunshot come from the television, making her rush back in. "Who died? Who died? Roll him over! Oh, c'mon, roll him over! Oh..! Well, we know it wasn't Vanessa, right Berry? Because-" But as she looked down to continue talking to him, he was gone.

"Berry?" That was when she turned around and noticed the door was left open. Panic struck.

By now, she had called everyone to the apartment, all except for Chan. "Okay, it's his first time out, so he's probably gonna wanna do some of the touristy things. I'll go to Seoul Tower, and you go to The Blue House." Felix said sarcastically as they all tried to figure out where the dog was.

"Oh, my, God! C'mon, you guys! He's gonna be home any minute! He's gonna kill me!" Corey panicked, starting to bite her nails in stress.

"Okay, we'll start with the building. You guys take the first and second floor, Woojin and I'll take third and fourth. Corey, you stay here, and just wait by the phone. Spray Lysol in my shoe, and wait for Chan to kill you." Changbin instructed and chased everyone out of the apartment, Corey softly asking if anyone wanted to trade, but no one replied.

Corey looked around in every room in the apartment, just in case he was still in there, but to no use. After maybe thirty minutes, she decided to call in for the big guns. Unlucky for her, she was on the phone with animal control when Chan entered the door. "Okay, he's a, he's a brown and white King Charles Spaniel, with a-" Her heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach when she saw Chan coming in with a smile on his face.

"with, with Russian dressing, and pickles on the side. Okay. Thanks." She covered and hung up, turning to Chan as if nothing was wrong. They greeted each other. Corey immediately noticed the bottle of wine in his hand and asked him about it. He confirmed her theory of its contents, then proceeding to ask if she wanted some.

"Oh, I would love some. But y'know what? Y'know what? Let's not drink it here. I'm feeling kind of crazy. You wanna go to Jakarta?" Corey tried persuading, desperate to postpone the inevitable truth, that she had lost his dog.

"Uh, okay, yeah, we could do that. But before we head off to the robbery capital of Southeast Asia, I was, uh, kinda wanting to run something by you. You know how we were talking before, about relationships and stuff? Well-" Chan started, obviously nervous as he was about to confess his feelings for her. He unscrewed the cork of the wine bottle, but Corey cut him off. Not because she knew he was going to confess, cause she didn't. She was beyond stressed about his dog.

"Oh God, Chan, I can't do this." She said as she paced back and forth in the kitchen, Chan's face falling. "Okay, Chan. Please don't hate me." She continued as Chan intensely tried getting the cork back on the wine. He looked at her first with concern, then confusion- because she was way more stressed out than what was normal when turning someone down.

"Y'know Berry? Well, I kind of.. I kind of lost him." She admitted, Chans arms falling to his sides as he looked at her in disbelief, almost as if she was waiting for her to tell him it was a prank.

"I-I-I ca- I can't believe this! I mean, all I asked you to do was keep him in the apartment. No, y'know what, I guess it's partially my fault. Y'know, I shouldn't have asked you to start off with a dog. I should have started you off with like a pen or a pencil." He yelled, pacing around, furious out of his mind.

Corey found herself in tears as she tried to explain herself. "Chan, I'm doing everything I can, I've got everybody looking for him, and I-" She was cut off as the intercom buzzed. She rushed over and asked who it was, pleased as she heard it was Animal Control.

"You called Animal Control?" Chan spoke in a low voice. Corey looking at him with a worried expression, asking if he didn't like them.

"Berry is a loose dog. If they find him, they are going to take him away from me, as I am not fit for a owner if I manage to lose him." Chan explained.

There was a knock on the door, Corey swiftly opening it. "Hi thank you for coming." She greeted, a man clad in a brown Animal Control uniform, and a huge butterfly net stood there, looking miserable as he probably didn't like his job very much.

Corey and Chan soon pretended they had no idea what he was talking about when he mentioned a dog, but Woojin soon came and accidentally revealed that there was in fact a dog on the loose.

"Look, I'm sure there's some friendly way to reconcile this! Um, have a seat. First of all, we haven't been introduced, I'm Seo Changbin." Changbin stated, pulling out a chair for the man and sat down in a chair himself. The man's eyes widened as Changbin mentioned his name.

"Oh my God, you are! And you're Corey Lee!" He said as he pointed to Corey. "Lee Minho! Cheongdam High? I sat behind you guys in home room!" Minho lit up as he introduced himself to his old classmates.

This pitched the fakes most annoying play ever produced, Changbin and Corey pretending they remembered Minho. "Minho? Oh my God, Changbin! It's Minho!" Corey started with a voice absolutely drenched in enthusiasm.

"The Minho from home room!" Changbin threw himself on, making a fool out of himself with his horrid lying.

"You have no idea who I am, do you?" Minho asked as he called out the two actors. They quickly admitted that it was the truth, something that hurt Minho. "Well, maybe that's because you spent four years ignoring me. I mean, would it have been so hard to say 'Morning, Minho'? Or 'Nice dancing'?" He spat back, the two embarrassed that they had behaved so poorly to someone when they were younger.

Changbin started to apologize for everything, but Minho cut him off. "Ah, it's not so much about you, you were a fucking loser, you had your own problems." He started, Changbin being dumbfounded by the entire thing as Minho turned to Corey. "But you? What a bitch!"

Everyone was taken aback by his statement, especially Corey. Fair enough, back in high school she was popular, cheer captain and all- but Minho was being a bit harsh if you asked her.

"Be that as it may, d'you think you could just help us out here on that dog thing? Y'know, just for old times' sake?" Changbin spoke softly, trying to persuade the man, but to no avail.

"I could.. but I won't. If I find that dog, he's mine." And with that he was out the door.

The group immediately split up as they had to find the dog before Minho did. Woojin and Changbin ran after Minho, Felix and Jisung was still in the building looking, so Corey and Chan decided to go out to the street and look.

"Berry!" They called every now and then as they walked the block for what felt like hours. "Ber- oh this is ridiculous! We've been all over the neighborhood. He's gone." Chan sighed as he stopped and sat down on a staircase that lead to the front door of an apartment complex. Corey felt her heart drop as she saw the state he was in. She walked over to grab his hand, like she always did.

"Chan, you don't know that." She spoke softly, rubbing the soft skin of his palm. Chan let it go on for only a split second before he snapped back to reality and pulled his hand out of Coreys.

"No, this is just classic Corey! I mean, things just sort of happen around you. I mean you're off in Corey-land, doing your Corey-thing, totally oblivious to people's dogs, or to people's feelings.." He trailed off his angry rant, his words sending a ache in the back of Corey' s throat as it closed up.

"Chan, that is not fair-" She tried, but was instantly cut off.

"No it isn't fair that the fact that you're useless hurts me! I asked you to do something that is literally the easiest thing ever, second after breathing. Had you not been such a bratty bitch in high school, maybe you could actually have paid attention in class and gained a few brain cells. But no! You have kissed more boys than you have IQ points, so it's my fault that I trusted you to keep Berry in a room! No wonder you feel stupid around your family, you’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever met." He snapped, this sending tears over the brim of Corey's eyes.

She had always known she wasn't the smartest person out there, and she was more insecure about that than Chan could even begin to imagine. But she had always had the safety of knowing that her best friends never judged her for that- but to hear that one of the most important people in her life viewed her as a dumb slut, that hurt.

"Chan. We're now going to find Berry, and after that- I want you to never speak to me again." Corey spoke in a surprisingly steady voice, as it was low and almost dangerous. They then continued to walk up and down the neighbourhood until they eventually gave up and walked back to the apartment.

When they got back, they got to hear the greatest story of all time, as Minho had accidentally shot a dart at Woojin instead of Berry. After hearing a yelp from the floor below them, they decided story time was over and that they had to check it out in case it was Berry.

On bottom of the stairs, they could see Minho holding a cage with a white and brown dog inside, yelping as it was scared. Berry.

"Alright, we want our dog!" Corey demanded as she rushed down the stairs, the rest of the group hot on her heels. "No, prom queen!" Minho simply replied.

"Oh, c'mon Minho! Alright. In high school I was the prom queen, and I was the homecoming queen and you.. were also there! But if you take this dog, you are going to hurt one of the most important people in my life. You can hate me all you want, but please do not punish him. C'mon, Minho, you have the chance to be the bigger person here! Take it!" Corey spoke, begging in fact. For a second, it looked like they had persuaded him, but once he refused yet again, Corey decided to pull out a trick she had saved for emergency only.

"Alright, well then how about I call your supervisor, and tell her you shot my friend in the ass with a dart?"

The room grew deathly quiet, no one dared to even move. Minho had a look in his eyes that was hard to place, but it didn't matter because after a few more seconds, he gently placed the cage on the floor and turned on his heel. The group cheered among themselves as Chan almost fell to the floor to let Berry out of the cage.

Corey let out a sigh as she saw him hug the dog. She had done what they agreed, now it was his turn to keep up the deal. It was almost as if Chan thought about it too, because after a few minutes, he asked everyone but Corey to leave.

"Corey, I feel so bad, I am so sorry for what I said earlier, you know I didn't mean it-" He started apologizing, but Corey didn't feel as if it was enough.

"No. I don't know that you didn't mean it. It obviously had to come from somewhere. And we have known each others since we were in kindergarten, you know me inside and out, which is why I know you wouldn't have said that unless it was to severely hurt and damage me. You know how insecure I am about those things, and yet. Sorry just doesn't cut it." Corey spoke softly. She thought she would be more angry than she was, but she was too exhausted. Her voice spoke almost as if she had given up.

"But you're my best friend." Chan's voice cracked when he spoke. He grabbed her hand and held it close to his chest, scared that if he let go of her hand, she would vanish. He didn't realize how bad what he had said was, but thinking back on it now, he wanted to knock himself out.

If there was one thing he knew about Corey, it was that she was very insecure about her intelligence. She was the youngest in a family of doctors and lawyers and professors, so of course she felt dumb when she never understood what it was they talked about at the dinner table. But she wasn't. She was one of the smartest people Chan had ever met, but in non-traditional ways. Maybe she couldn't solve a math problem in a second, but she knew how to take care of plants, and how to perfectly fold her clothes so they wouldn't crease. She knew how to put together an outfit with the help of color theory and knowing which patterns not to mix. But none of that mattered, Chan had hit her where it hurt and he had no idea how to fix it.

"If I was your best friend, you wouldn't use that against me- no matter what." Corey spoke softly, almost as if she was comforting him- but as you listened to what she said, you quickly realized that was not the case. She then pulled her hand towards herself, Chan letting out a small yelp as she did so- and turned on her heel and went home.

-

That was a lot sory..

I hope you like it, feel free to request!

-bentley

[quicksiilver]

In My Fathers Eyes

All Parts: Here

On AO3: Here

Part Nine: Second World

Word Count: 5.2k

Chapter Summary: A week has passed at the Compound. Rachel's been training with Natasha every day, and tonight she meets with Bruce to go under and walk through her memory again. Just like a glitch, she's taken elsewhere, and a new player enters the game.

A/N: Apologies for taking a bit to update.  Enjoy this new face we’re meeting!

“And that was the last time he talked to me,” I said through my heavy breaths.  Natasha threw a couple punches my way.  I dodged half of them, then spun around catching her off guard with a kick from behind.  She barely stumbled, and quickly got me back by taking out one of my knees.

“The night you made out on Tony’s car,” She said, fists at the ready.  Back on my feet we went a few more rounds, only stopping when I caught her arms under mine pulling her into me.  I sighed, rolling my eyes.

“Yes,” I said.

“Wait, you guys made out?!” Wanda shouted from the corner she sat in, almost spitting out the water she held in her mouth.  My eyes stayed on Natasha.  From getting knocked down that first day with the mention of Peter’s name, I didn’t let anything steal my attention.  We’ve been training everyday, and to my surprise I’ve only gotten stronger. Fatigue never got the best of me, it hadn’t even come up.  I started with Natasha a week ago, and since then she’s told me my strength has grown faster than anyone she’s trained with.  Even Wanda didn’t get this strong in a week.

“Yeah,” I groaned, answering Wanda, taking Natasha to the ground with my knees around her waist.  She tried to flip me, but I held her down.  My hair was all in my face, stuck to my forehead, and flipped ridiculously around.  I had it up, but through the past two hours there was no point in fixing it.

“Okay, get off of me,” Natasha smiled, defeated.  Letting go of her arms I stood up. Taking a few steps backwards I slumped over making them laugh.

“You never said you guys kissed, I just thought you snuck out,” Wanda tossed me a water bottle.  Taking a long sip, I nodded and rolled my eyes again.

“We did,” I said, “And he hasn’t talked to me.”

“There is a lot going on,” Natasha said solemnly, “I know he did a lot of work Thursday night.”  Wanda motioned for me to come sit next to her, so I plopped myself down beside her and in front of Natasha.  Steve was in here with Bucky, the two of them lifting weights across the room after their run they always took together.  I watched Bucky as he only lifted with his one arm, the silver one behind his back.

“We saw each other the next day, in the hallway.  I was on my way to come here, and he was going into his room.  He didn’t even turn around,” I said.  Wanda pouted, giving Natasha a look.

“It doesn’t matter,” I sighed, “There’s a lot going on, right?” I repeated Natashas words, raising my eyebrows.  I did hear that Peter was out almost all day, and night, on Thursday.  It didn’t make me feel any better because we had the chance to talk on Wednesday.  We had the chance to talk on Friday when he was leaving the kitchen as I was coming in with Thor.  He didn’t seem to be making an effort to pay attention to me anymore.  Saturday, yesterday, I saw him with Tony outside when I peeked out my window after a shower.

“I’m not here to make friends, I have a job to do, right?” I asked them.  Screwing their faces into confusion they looked at me, and spoke with offense.

“What are we then?!” Natasha spoke harshly before laughing.  Wanda laughed with her, shaking her head at me.

“You’re one of us now, you’ve joined the lady Avenger alliance,” Wanda spoke regally, lifting her bottle of water, getting me to join in on their laughter.  Natasha reached toward me placing a hand on my knee giving it a shake.

“Boys are gross, anyway,” She scrunched her nose, “Especially teenage ones.”  I copied her look, and then smiled.

“Aren’t you and Bruce together?” I asked.  Wanda almost choked on her water again.

“Ugh,” Natasha groaned, tilting her head back, “I try.”

“She loves him,” Wanda teased.

“Do not,” Natasha shot back.  They bickered like children, my eyes shooting back and forth between them.

“Speaking of Bruce, aren’t you working with him later?” Wanda asked.  I sat up straight, panic shooting into my stomach.

“Oh shit, what time is it?” I mumbled, jumping to my feet looking around for my phone.  Wanda handed it over to me, she was the keeper of it while I fought.  The clock read four thirteen.

“Oh man,” I said, turning to the girls on the floor, “I gotta go, I’m supposed to be with him at five.”  They waved me off, telling me to have a good night.  Natasha sarcastically warned me that if I brought up our conversation, she’d kick my ass the next time we trained.

Jumping out of the rink I started for the doors passing Bucky and Steve who said hi to me.  Bucky gave me a smile with a nod of his head.  He was always so charming, it almost made me blush.  Before I reached the door it was pulled open by Peter.  He didn’t see me at first until he was a few steps in, and when he looked at me we both slowed down.  We passed by one another without saying a word, just a glance, but as I stepped out the door I swore I still felt his eyes on me.

After a speedy shower I rode the elevator down to Bruce on the floor now deemed as the Science Fair by Natasha and I.  He turned as I came toward him, and gave me a smile.

“Hey, Rachel,” He said, his voice always calm and soothing, “You up for this again?”  The two white earbuds were in his hand that he held out for me to take.  Taking a deep breath, I smiled.

“I have to be,” I popped the earbuds in my ears, and sat down on the chair beside Bruce.  Closing my eyes, I took a second deep breath, and prepared for the feeling to hit me.  The first time we did this I had Peter here, and he helped me through it.  Without him now I was taking this on alone, with only Bruce here to talk to me.  I was used to doing most things alone anyway, so swallowing the fear of the emptiness that was about to swallow me, I sat up tall and listened to Bruce help transition me into the darkness.

-

Tony and Peter were working together in a room on the floor below the science fair.  Papers were scattered around the large circle of a table as were folders, binders and boxes of files.  When there was no other work to be done, Peter could be found here helping Tony keep things in order.  Every sheet of paper held information to all the endeavors the Avengers found themselves in.

The side of Tony not many people outside the team got to see, the anxiety that riddled him and kept him up at night, it used to confine him to this room especially after the Sokovia Accords were signed.  He didn’t want to lose an ounce of control.  He had tabs on every Avenger and every word they spoke to the public.  Any fight, or battle someone went through, it was on paper.  He always had a plan, because he knew everything.  Keeping Peter close by he recruited him to help keep this room in order, thus giving Peter access to the info on every Avenger in this building.

Sitting here tonight they were quiet, barely any words shared between them.  Peter stacked a pile of papers with intel of the Space Stone together and slipped them in a folder with a label indicating its association with the stone, then turned to look at Tony pacing the room, tapping his chin with a pen.

“Mr. Stark?” He asked, his voice just above a whisper.  Tony slowed his walk, looking at Peter with just his eyes, wearing his usual quizzing expression.  It was Peter’s signal to keep talking, but to also be weary of what he was going to say.  While Peter knew what to expect, sometimes he wasn't ready for it.  Peter hesitated, but found the courage to speak up.

“I know... I know you don’t want me talking to her,” He said, Tony cut him off.

“We’re not discussing this,” He stated, turning away, picking up his pace to where he left off.  Sighing, Peter sat back in the chair he was sitting on.

“Don’t get pissy,” Tony pulled a look of disgust, “You don’t know her.”

“Neither do you,” Peter mumbled, his eyes focusing on his hands on his lap.

“I think I know enough,” Tony said, stopping, resting his hands on the table leaning into them, “I know who her father is,” You’d think his words were hurting him with the way he spoke, “I saw the aliens coming out of the hole in the sky, and you know what that did to me.”  Tony paused, his eyes glued to the boy across from him.  Peter didn’t bother to look up.

“I was chill when I met her, I was chill driving her here, I was chill bringing her in when she met all of us.  She’s shown me twice now that he is in there.  In her,” He paused, reading Peter to see what reaction he was getting from him, hoping his words were doing enough to turn him off, “We talked about what you did Tuesday night.  It was wrong, it was so wrong.  You’re a good kid, I do not need you screwing up how great you’ve been here.”

“For you,” Peter said, finally lifting his chin, “You don’t want me screwing it up for you.”  Tony scoffed, eyes rolling, and raised his voice.

“You guys don’t work!” His voice harsh, “You’ll never work!  You’re one of the good guys, and she’s an inexperienced child of a goddamn villain.”  Peter bit his tongue, knowing if he said what he wanted to say it would come back to bite him in the ass.  He knew Loki was no villain.  Sending aliens from space under the influence of a persuasive mind stone could happen to anyone of them, it just so happened to be Loki.  He didn’t do it voluntarily.

“What do you think’s gonna happen when he comes?” Tony's voice now condescending, “When she meets him?  Her only family she has?  She’ll probably want to go with him, and that gives him more power because she’s growing stronger than any one of us has, fast.” His last words caught Peter’s interest.

“She is?” He asked, and Tony nodded, still wearing his serious expression.

“She is.  It’s weird,” Tony said making Peter laugh under his breath.

“Is it?” He asked, “Her dad isn’t human, he’s a God… made of ice.” Tony straightened himself out, removing his hands from the table, and eyed Peter curiously.

“Maybe it’s a bad idea having you in here,” He motioned around to the clutter, “You have too good of a memory, and I think it’ll come get you one day.” Peter gave him a weak smile, Tony’s warm-hearted sarcasm making him feel something he hadn’t in a while.  Before he could enjoy it too much, Stark pointed a finger at him.

“We already had this conversation. You aren’t going to get any closer to her, got it?” He waited for Peter’s head to nod, “Good,” He went to turn around, but hesitated.  Peter watched him, the two keeping their eyes locked.

“I do need to know, though,” Tony said, Peter groaning audibly, “What do you want with her? You wanna date her? You want a friend? You want to sleep with her?”

“No, Mr. Stark,” Peter sprung forward, waving a hand around trying to shut him up.

“Because I know you’re here a lot, alone, and there really isn’t anyone for you to-”

“Stop! Please!” Peter started to laugh, cringing hard.  Tony smiled, happy to have a moment with Peter that wasn’t about work, or anger related.  He knew he hadn’t been the best person toward Peter in the past few weeks, or maybe months.  He knew Peter needed a friend, but he for sure thought he was still getting together with his friends from high school.

With the way he would watch him mope around the compound, and keep to himself, Tony knew that he was going through a low.  Bringing Rachel here was sprung on Tony, he didn’t think they’d be able to track her down.  Since then she’s begun to lose his trust, and even though Peter needed someone to fill the space he was leaving him in, he didn’t want it to be her.  Before he could crack another joke for the kid, Friday chimed into the conversation.

“Mr. Stark, there’s an urgent call coming in for you,”  She said.  Peter sat up, tilting his head, and furrowing his brows.  Tony met him with the same exact look.

“Tony!” It was Bruce, “You gotta get in here, man.” He sounded like he was in a panic.  

“What? What happened?” Tony asked, trying to stay calm, “Aren’t you with Rachel?”

“Yeah,” His voice shook.  From the background there was a glass shattering scream, and a muffled voice following it that was shouting something unintelligible.  Peter leapt to his feet, actually, leapt on top of the table effortlessly, ready to run across it to get upstairs.

“I don’t know what to do,” Bruce said, “I’m at a loss, and I can feel the other guy ready to make an appearance.”

“No, no, no,” Peter mumbled quickly, snapping his metal band around his wrist that he fished out of his pocket the second Bruce’s voice came through Friday.

“I’m coming, try to stay calm,” Tony said, “Kid, stay here.” He gestured for Peter to sit down.  Peter stared at him in disbelief, and as Tony waited for a second to make sure he was going to listen, Peter shot a web to the doorknob pulling it open.  Before Tony could even say another word, Peter had another web shot outside the door taking himself with it.

-

Like riding a rollercoaster, I was being tossed around, and rushed through the air surrounded by bright, glistening, blinding colors.  I had lost Bruce’s voice.  We were in the middle of walking through a memory of my mother and I drawing with crayons at my kitchen table when I was pulled away from it suddenly, and thrown into this force that felt like it was pulling me somewhere.  I had made attempts to grab onto something, or say something to Bruce, but whatever was happening to me prohibited that.

I was told these things in my ears would take me into my memory, dig deep into my subconscious, and bring things up that had been pushed away and covered up.  What I was experiencing right now wasn’t a memory.  It wasn’t even a thought.  Being whisked through a forcefield of rainbow energy at a speed faster than I’d ever felt wasn’t a situation I’d ever think I’d be in.  Even an eight year olds imagination couldn’t think something up like this.

In an instant, as fast as I was sucked into this, I was pulled out.  I stumbled on my feet, catching myself before I fell over.  Looking around at the beautifully marbled floor, my eyes followed the path I was standing on to the staircase at the end of it.  The air around me was warm, and the air was crisp.  Everything seemed fresh, and brand new.  I certainly felt out of place with how royal this all seemed, and I couldn’t help but wonder why I was brought here.  

There were sounds of birds chirping, and bustling life outside of where I was, but inside this huge ballroom it was just quiet.  There hadn’t ever been a vision of this place inside my head.  No place this regal could possibly come from me, my brain was more interested in the dark, and the mysteries.

“Rachel,” A deep voice graveled from the stairs.  After finishing the circle I was spinning in to gawk at the details of paintings on the ceiling, I turned toward it to find a throne with a man sitting on it.  He was young, it seemed, with ashy brown hair down to his shoulders.  Dressed in long sleeved dark robes, pulled together at the waist with a leather belt, he stood up from his slumped over lounge and started down the stairs.  His shoes clicked on the marble with every step he took.

“You can see me?” I asked, a little surprised.  I’ve only done this memory thing twice, but when I was inside one nobody could physically see me.  I would only go through the motions of myself in that memory, but my outside body was never a part of the scene.  The man lowered his chin, with a smize.  His eyes studied me as he descended from the stairs meeting me by my side.

“Of course I can see you,” He said.  His voice was beautiful, smooth, and had a hint of my uncle's accent inside it.  It seemed to be mixed with more, but I didn’t know much about outside worlds, or what people sounded like from Thor’s world.

“How?” I asked.

“Who do you think brought you here?” He asked back, his head cocking to the side in sarcasm.  He still wore his smize, turning it into more of a smile now.  He was absolutely stunning.  His eyes were a hazel green, and they were sharp, and seemed full of wisdom.  The curve of his nose was not even a curve at all, it sloped perfectly straight, leading your eyes to his full lips that were encompassed with perfectly taken care of scruff.  His jaw appeared to be sharper than his eyes, and his hair hung below it in waves.  I had never seen someone so beautiful, I was a little intimidated.

“You… You brought me here?” I asked quietly, “How?” I repeated myself.

“Your Avengers haven’t been careful,” He sighed, turning his chin to gaze out the window.  I would’ve done it too, but I was too busy gazing at him.

“What?” My voice was at a whisper.  He turned back to me.

“My apologies, let me start over,” He said, “I am Rune, of Asgard.”

“Shut up,” I said turning over my shoulder, looking all around the place again.  Hurrying over to an opening onto the balcony, I nearly flung myself against the sculpted railing to look out upon the surreal world below me.  My heart pounded in my chest, and my hands began to shake as the excitement, and pure shock, grew within me.  Asgard was a princess fairytale on steroids, and apparently so were the people that lived here.  Families were walking along the streets, and children could be heard laughing.  Flowers were, well, everywhere, and past the royally constructed buildings and homes was a forest full of the greenest trees I’ve seen.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Rune said, leaning against the barrier with me.  Not taking my eyes off the insane beauty of Asgard, I nodded.  He smiled, giving me a small laugh.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” I whispered.

“Did anyone have an intention of bringing you here?” Rune asked.  Glancing to him once before looking back out to the horizon I shook my head.

“It hadn’t been discussed yet,” I said.  My brain processed what we’d just said, making me look at him in confusion.

“I know, I know,” He laughed again.

“Do you know Thor?” I asked, my tone building my guard back up.

“I do,” Rune nodded.

“Am I related to you, too?” I asked.

“No, I certainly would hope not,” His voice lowered as his eyes narrowed, giving me a feeling I always tried my best to avoid.  Clenching my jaw, I nodded as an answer, and looked away from him.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“Like I said before, your Avengers haven’t been too careful,” He spoke with disappointment, but it was almost sarcastic, as if he was expecting this.

“What are you talking about?” Whipping my head toward him, I spoke in offense.  The Avengers were taking perfect care of me.  I had a place to live that wasn’t close to evicting me when rent was due, I had delicious food to eat whenever I wanted it, and I had finally found a piece of family I had gone my entire life without.  Natasha and Wanda were training me to be strong, and teaching me how to protect myself when I was going to need it.  I had friends other than Shaun, who I hadn’t talked to in an entire day, and they genuinely cared about me.  Rune’s eyes studied me again, like he was collecting information from every move I made.

“They’re trying to keep you hidden from us,” He spoke carefully.

“Yeah,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes, “Sure they are.  My uncle is from here, why would he hide me from it?” Rune’s expression didn’t falter.

“I know you’ve heard the stories of Thor and his brother, haven’t you?” He paused, “The stories of your father?” My stomach twisted, and a small chill rolled over me.  It was one thing to talk about him with a member of the team, but to hear it from a stranger was enough to make me feel sick.  My father was an enemy of Asgard at a certain point in time.  He faced scrutiny, and was thrown into a dungeon.  He had lost everyones trust, even his brother’s.  Thor had told me things were better now, but standing here with Rune having the knowledge of who my father was, I wanted to sink into my shoes through the floor.  Keeping the worry inside of me, I pressed my lips together and gave him a nod.

“I know it all,” I said confidently.

“Then you know they’re only keeping you to use you,” He said, my stomach taking another twist, “They only need you to get to Loki.” Swallowing hard, my worry was about to bubble over my composed exterior.  The sound of his name still threw me for a spin.

“You’re crazy,” I mumbled, resting my elbows on top of the marble in front of me, shaking my head in disbelief, “That is so far from the truth.  They’re seeing all of this happen right now, I hope you know.  I have no idea how you got me here, but they’re watching this, and they’re going to hear everything you’re telling me.” Rune laughed, laying a hand to his chest.  I glanced at him, confused.

“Oh, sweet girl,” He said, giving me an ick, “They can’t hear a thing.  They can’t see us either, because guess what?  I know how to hide things, too.” Giving him a look of disgust, he simply smiled back.

“Your father has betrayed your uncle once again. That’s why your world and ours are in despair.  You see the extraordinary life down there?” He gestured out to Asgard, “Your father wants to watch it burn. Things haven’t changed. He’s still pure scum.” “Liar!” I shouted, rage beginning to swell in my heart.  Pushing away from the railing I took a few steps back and glared at him.  We stared each other down, his movement still giving me the impression he was trying to figure me out.  It reminded me of how Tony acted around me, but Rune wasn’t afraid.  It’s almost as if he wanted me to act out.

“Don’t speak like that about him,” I said through my teeth.  Rune rested his back on the marble, folding his hands in front of him, watching me almost lose myself, “None of you know what he’s been through, none of you know how he feels.”

“And you do?” He asked with a gesture of his head toward me.  I hesitated for a second, now knowing he knew I never met him before.

“I do,” I said strongly, fists clenching over my thumbs.  Rune’s eyes flickered to them, then back to my eyes.

“Let me help you,” He said, raising a hand to tell me to calm down.

“Why would I do that? You just called my father scum!” I laughed, annoyed.  Rune smirked.

“I’m on your side, that’s just what people call him.  I know where he is,” His voice was hushed, and he started to walk toward me, “He’s in hiding, much like we are now.  I have some idea of how to get him to come back, and how to stop him from destroying worlds,” He stopped, then pointed at me, “Then you come along, I find you through the Avengers who I’ve been watching, and I realize you’re going to be what stops him.”  I waited for him to go on, but he expected me to answer.

“Why are you watching the Avengers?  How are you watching the Avengers?” I asked, my eyes still angry.

“I’m watching them because they want to take your father down, and I needed to be sure they weren’t going to do that.  I use the bifrost,” He said.

“Thor said Heimdall doesn’t let anyone control the bifrost.”

“Like I said, I know how to hide things,” He winked, and as much as I wanted to feel the ick again, his alluring eyes made it too hard, “Help me.  Help me save your father, Rachel.” He held out an open hand, like he wanted me to take it.  Looking down at it I felt nervous, unlike I did with Peter.  I wanted to grab Peter’s hand, and squeeze it, and not let it go.  Rune’s hand was intimidating, and seemed too strong.  Rune was also an Asgardian, a strong being that descended from gods.  I didn’t even have an idea of how old he was, and as Thor described it, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.  He did have this mysterious facade about him, I could feel how much of a passionate person he was, it was nearly overwhelming how deep his energy felt.  The way he was watching me was dangerous, and I mean dangerous for my feelings.

“Do you want him to be safe, or not?” Rune asked.  Looking from his hand to his glistening eyes, I sighed, and I quickly took his hand.  Shaking it once, I dropped it, and I watched as his eyes trickled down my body to my feet before looking back at me.  Insecurity wanted me to retreat, but judging by his intrigue there didn’t need to be any worry.

“What do I do?” I asked fast, switching the energy before anything else happened.  Rune bit the tip of his tongue, letting a smile grow.

“Out there? With the Avengers? Nothing,” He said, then tapped his chest, “With me? Everything.” Taking a deep breath a wave of adrenaline washed over me.  His tone was hinting toward mischief, and it sparked more of interest within me.  While this was so much bigger than breaking a tiny rule at the Compound, the last time I felt this exact feeling was with Peter when he agreed to get into Tony’s car.

“What’s the matter?” Rune asked.  I assumed my expression had faltered at the thought of last week.

“Nothing,” I sighed, shaking it away.  Rune lifted his chin a bit, looking down at me, much like Peter’s signature move.  Squishing my eyebrows together, I stared at him and tried to get Peter out of my head.  After a minute, he straightened out and I relaxed.

“Very well then,” He said, “These moments stay between us.  While your physical body is still on Midgard, your subconscious is here.  I’m sending you back, but I’ll be putting you through a horrific memory to protect your time here from being broken into.  My apologies.” Rune reached out for my hand, and when they touched I was sent spinning through the colorful flashes again.  When I fell back into reality, I could feel how sweaty my body had become.  I was gasping for air more than I was the first time going under.  My muscles ached, and I knew it was from this.  Everyone knew by now I didn’t get sore from training.

“Rachel!” Bruce shouted, seeming relieved.  My sight was blurry, and the room was spinning.  Fighting to grab onto something I tried to stand up, but I fell straight for the floor, slipping off the chair before I even got up to my feet.

“Whoa!” I heard Peter’s voice shout, and he caught me, putting me back on the chair.

“What happened? What’d she do?” Tony’s voice was the next one I heard, and I made out his shape as he came next to Bruce messing with screens in front of him.

“She got sucked into something… I couldn’t see anything.  I fought to get her back, but then she started to… freak out!” Bruce’s voice was shaky.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked quietly, still holding onto me.  My dizziness started to fade, and as soon as I could make out where he was I swatted at him to get away.

“Whoa!” He said again, letting me go.  Ignoring him, I placed a hand to my forehead and laid back in the chair.

“Kid, what do you remember?” Tony asked, looking over at me.  Squinting to try to look at him clearer, I shrugged, “Seriously?” He mumbled.

“I don’t know!” I said, raising my voice, “It was all… fuzzy.  Then I was thrown through the day my mom died,” My own words stung, “The day I came home from school.  Found her on the kitchen floor.  Called nine-one-one, and had a meltdown beside her,” The room was quiet, except for Tony clicking away.

“Right,” He muttered.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter began.

“Shut it, Parker,” Tony warned.  I didn’t even want him here.  Peter was ignoring me all week over that night at the airport, after we shared our trauma with each other, after we both grew a pair and finally kissed, and here he was just to watch me be sad again.  I lived my life on my own for a reason.  I was not going to let him get in the way of it.

“Banner, I can’t think of what to do.  I’m going to need time to dissect this,” Tony said to Bruce, “Rachel, you can go,” He waved me off, “Peter, get back to work.” Following my orders, I steadied myself on my feet.  Reliving the memory I had just seen, I felt the urge to cry.  Not needing Peter, or the other two to watch me do it, I left and went off to my room ready to get Shaun on the phone.

-

Tags for the amazing ppl who’re reading this :’)

@idk-maybe-snape-did-it @avengerstanforlife You guys are the best.

[ft-stories-lgbt]

Hey you! Could you do stingsu, 16 and/or 27 for the kissing prompts? 💕

Hello!! Je suis vraiment désolée de te répondre aussi tard. On va dire que ces derniers temps je n'avais plus trop la motivation d'écrire.. j'espère que tu vas aimé, j'ai essayé de faire quelque chose de léger !

J'espère que ta journée sera un peu plus douce avec ceci ❤️

*

Stingsu: 16: One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person or 27: Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap.

*

“You say you’re loving the way I

Show you the stars in the daylight

You do the same for me every day

You say you’re loving the way we

Don’t gotta say what we’re thinking

Never no pressure to fill up the space”

Alina Baraz- Off the grid.

Natsu frowns as he closes the fridge door. This morning when he went to work, he was so sure that he had left the last one of his precious chocolate mousse in it, hidden behind a bunch of vegetables because he knows how much Gray, one of his four room-mate, is equally fond of them as he is. He has been looking forward to this moment all day long, enduring his classes with the promise that once he’ll get home, everything will be fine again because he could drown himself in the chocolate.

But here he is instead, hands empty and craving for something he can’t have.

“Gray!”

He accepted his defeat, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t fetch for answers.

He hears the opening of the door and then it closes, and a few seconds later, a dark-haired male stands in front of him, a bored look on his face.

“What now?”

“Are you the one who ate my last and precious chocolate mousse?!” He asks vehemently.

“There was chocolate mousse?” Gray questions instead. “How come I never know when there are some in the house now!”

“Answer me, dumbass.”

“Well, the response I gave you should be enough of an answer right? I didn’t even know there were some in the fridge!”

“I was waiting for this moment all day!” Natsu whines. “If you ate them I’m going to take my revenge and—”

“Natsu for fuck’s sake I was in the class all day, you saw me on the campus and we came home at the same time not even five minutes ago; explain to me at what moment I could have got a chance to eat the damn thing?”

Natsu opens his mouth to retaliate before closing it again, lost at words. Gray has a point, it could not be him.

“Then if not you, who? Is it Rogue?”

“Rogue is allergic to chocolate, Natsu.” Gray rolls his eyes, passing next to him to open the fridge and take a bottle of juice. “We’ve been living together for two years now, one would think you paid more attention to us and—”

“Yeah yeah, then if not him who?” Natsu interrupts Gray, clearly not ready to hear him complain about how shitty of a friend he is.

Gray stops what he is doing to turn and look at Natsu, dumbfounded.

“Natsu, remind me who you are living with again?”

“You, Rogue and Sting,” he says factually.

“Alright. You already know that I didn’t eat your damn mousse and that Rogue didn’t do it either. Now tell me who is left in your pretty little list?”

Natsu narrows his eyes at Gray, crossing his arms on his chest.

“Sting would never do—”

“Think about it again. Your pretty boyfriend was home all morning, alone in the house. Unless we have a ghost living with us, you need to face reality. He betrayed you,” Gray finishes with a smirk on his lips.

Natsu gasps at him, this time his eyes wide in horror.

“No… How could he do this to me.”

The pink-haired boy shakes his head in denial as he makes his way out of the kitchen to go in the bedroom that Sting and he share.

But no matter how he turns the situation in his head, he knows Gray is right.

Sting has, indeed, decided to betray him.

_

When Sting passes the front door and ends up in the living room, facing a Gray with a smug look on his face, he knows he is in trouble. Rogue is here too, a stupid smile on his normally straight face, looking directly at him from the couch, a hand running through one of their cat's fur. The only person missing is his boyfriend, and that in itself manage to make Sting more nervous.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” He asks as he lets his keys on the table.

“I hope you have a very good excuse for what you did,” Gray laughs as he makes his way to sit next to Rogue.

“What do you mean?” Sting enquires with a frown.

“Chocolate mousse.”

It’s all Rogue needs to say before realisation strikes him and his eyes go wide.

“Shit…”

“Shit, indeed,” Gray laughs some more. “I know he is your boyfriend and all, but that doesn’t give you all the rights in the world.”

“In my defence, I was craving something sweet and it was the only thing left in the house, and I actually planned to come home early with a new set of it but I got stuck with a project and my teacher wouldn’t let me go...damn how mad is he?”

Rogue shakes his head, amused as Gray simply continue to laugh at him.

“Well, I’m pretty sure he went through the denial phase already. I heard him cursing earlier so I guess he went through some anger. But it’s been calm for a few minutes now so... my guess is, he’s sulking like the baby he really is.”

Sting sighs, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Well… I dug my own grave. It was nice knowing you guys.”

The blond decides to muster the courage and slowly makes his way towards their bedroom.

“Don’t be dramatic, you’ll be fine, idiot.”

It’s the last thing he hears Rogue saying before he lets himself go into the room.

The first thing he sees is obviously Natsu. He is sitting on the bed, back against the headboard. There are a few papers and book sprawled around him, he seems unaware of Sting’s presence for now, which gives the blond some times to just admire the man he loves before hell rises.

Sting always found it endearing the way Natsu tends to focus on his works, no matter how much he likes to guff around, he always treats his studies seriously and always comes home with good grades.

Sting is proud of him, especially since he knows how much Natsu struggles to keep his attention on something sometimes.

Shaking his head fondly, he decides to drop his bag somewhere near their door before he makes his way toward the bed. The movements manage to grab Natsu’s attention, and for a split second, there’s the beginning of a smile on his face, before it’s replaced with a cold stare and a pout. Sting fights back a smile as he sits next to his boyfriend, who only grabs his stuff so they are closer to him, while he moves a few centimetres back, so there is more space between them.

“Hey,” Sting greets him.

“I’m mad at you,” comes the immediate answers. There’s no heat behind the words though.

“I know. And I’m sorry.”

Natsu looks at him without saying anything for a moment, before he goes back to his work, ignoring Sting. He can see Natsu is trying hard not to give in, by the frown on his forehead.

“Baby... I’m really sorry. I was craving something sweet and I swear I wanted to bring more after classes but I got more things to do and completely forgot. I promise I’ll buy some more tomorrow.”

There’s no reaction from his boyfriend and he waits a few minutes before he takes the pen out of Natsu’s hand, and scoots the books and paper away from them. He can see that Natsu is ready to protest but he cuts him short by taking place on the boy’s laps.

“Now you can’t ignore me like that.”

Sting smiles gently at him, and Natsu huffs, turning his head on the side, his mouth in a pout.

“Come on baby, you can’t really be mad at me for it, I promised to buy more and I already said I was sorry.”

“Pff. As if it’s enough.”

Sting rolls his eyes and this time he brings his hands to Natsu’s face and turns him toward him. He doesn’t let the boy time to complain and simply presses his lips against his. He feels Natsu going limp against him, as if he was waiting for this moment to happen and Sting can’t help the grin that appears on his lips now.

After a few seconds, he parts away, keeping his hands on Natsu’s cheeks, caressing softly his cheekbones.

“This is unfair. I was ready to stay mad at you for at least a week!”

“A week? As if you could have resisted me for that long.”

Natsu only sticks out his tongue at him which only makes him laugh.

“You’re too cute baby.”

“I’m not cute. And I’m not a baby.”

Sting gives him an unimpressed look before placing another kiss on his lips.

“Sure. Whatever makes you sleep at night.”

*

And a big thank you to @watcher-ofthe-sky , who is really my rock around here!

*

FYI: if someone touches my chocolate mousse, you Can be sure you're going to hear about it until the rest of your life.

[ofheroesandvillains]

Reassurance - Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes/fem!reader

Words: 2.3k Warnings: Self-doubt? Request: Anonymous: Hey! Could you do a Police AU! Chubby!Bucky x Reader where a new member of the team makes Bucky uneasy bc he is conventionally attractive and seems to get along really well with his girlfriend?

Hey everyone! Sorry I’ve been MIA, Endgame wrecked me so I took a break from writing Marvel because I knew everything would just be ANGST haha! Hope you’re all well, and thank you to the lovely reader who requested this. Hope it’s alright! 

(Gif not mine! - couldn’t find a chubby one, so frowny face it is!)

“Damn. Who’s that?”

“Who? Oh! Oh my god, it’s him!”

Detective Bucky Barnes rolled his eyes with an annoyed sigh. He wouldn’t say that he hated the new interns…but god, did he hate their constant chatter. Work talk? Fine, he could deal with some brainstorming sessions. But the constant string of gossip being broadcast beside him was getting real annoying.

He didn’t know what he’d done to ensure that they were seated directly beside him, but he was one ‘Oh my god, Shelley! That shirt is sooo cute!’ away from kicking down the door to Steve’s office and demanding their relocation…and it was only day three.

“He’s so hot…”

“Right? I’m so jealous. The things I’d do to him…”

Bucky grimaced, the grip around his pen tightening uncomfortably with every word.

A familiar laugh rang out and Bucky groaned. It was a laugh that he could -and always would- pick out in a crowd. He loved that laugh, and he’d been loving it for a very long time. This paperwork wasn’t going to finish itself, but how the hell was he supposed to focus on it now that he knew you’d stepped into the room?

His pale eyes flickered away from his paperwork no matter how much he told himself he needed to concentrate. Your relationship wasn’t meant to get in the way of work, but there it goes, he thought, doing exactly that. He felt all of the tension leave his shoulders at the sight of you. You had a glowing smile on your face, the kind that made his palms sweat before he’d mustered up the courage to ask you out the first time. He couldn’t hear what you were saying, but the memory of your voice in his head chased away the sound of gossip that had been grating on his last nerve for the past hour.

Against all odds, he felt a smile tug at his lips, threatening to beat his bad mood out of him. That was until he glanced over at who you were talking to. His smile fell. At least he knew who the interns were talking about now. Steve had assigned you your own newbie a few weeks ago and Bucky wouldn’t pretend that he approved of the match.

He was a good-looking guy, that much was true. Tall, dark, and handsome, that’s what your friend Natasha would have called him…and Bucky had never felt more self-conscious in his life.

The Adonis talking to his girl had muscle on top of muscle. He didn’t have that little bit of fat under his chin like Bucky did, and the outline of his abs could easily be seen through the skin-tight tee he was wearing. You kept your eyes strictly on the man’s face, and Bucky should have felt reassured, but all he could process at the moment was his own inadequacy.

Bucky looked down at his shirt, at the way his own stomach lightly strained against the buttons when he sat down. He was aware of the way his shirts were becoming tighter and tighter around his biceps than ever before - and not because he’d been working out.

Oh man…

Maybe he’d let himself go a little, but he hadn’t realised just how much until he saw you standing there next to Mr Crossfit across the room. Bucky frowned. You were smiling politely, with a laugh bursting out here and there, whenever he said something that was apparently funny.

Bucky frowned harder.

Standing there next to him, you looked…good.

You looked good together. He was everything a girl could ever want in a guy. Charming, funny, kind, and shaped like a damn statue. Worry churned in Bucky’s gut. What if he was interested in you? He sure seemed to enjoy spending time with you. How was Bucky supposed to compete with 6+ feet of tanned muscle, the likes of which he’d never had even when he was still in shape?

More importantly, how were you supposed to resist that? What if you were interested in him?

Everyone knew that Bucky only had eyes for you. You were his world and there was nothing more beautiful to him than seeing your face first thing in the morning. You’d been together for two years now, but you’d been friends a lot longer. It was his best friend, Steve (now Captain of the precinct) who originally told him about your ‘obvious’ feelings. Apparently, he was the only one who hadn’t noticed that you looked at him with the same awe and devotion he specifically reserved for you.  

Fast forward two years and he was hiding a velvet box in his sock drawer, and carrying a few extra pounds around his waist. Now his worry was if you would accept the former if he had the latter.

Before his mind could slip further down the rabbit hole, a paper bag was gently placed on his desk.

“Hi, hon! Here, I got your favourite.”

You gave him that special smile you saved just for him, and even if he didn’t have a genuine one in him at the moment, he’d force a smile for you if it was the last thing he did. And he did, even if you’d always said that a forced smile is always worse than a frown. He eyed the paper bag and tried to ignore the addictive aroma that always made his mouth water. His stomach grumbled and he almost grimaced all over again when you both looked down at it.

“Thank you…” he said, crossing his arms on top of his desk in a poor attempt at hiding it from your view.

You frowned. He was curling in on himself, and never in the whole time you’d known him, had he looked so small. Detective Barnes was a confident guy. He was the most successful detective in the precinct, hell, in the whole of New York. He was a good-looking guy, and had the personality to match. But now…he looked scared, terrified even.

“Bucky, are you oka-“

He shot up from his seat, startling both you and the interns a desk over from him. He shot you an apologetic look.

“Sorry…I uh, I just…I gotta go to the bathroom real quick.”

He didn’t wait for a response, darting away from his desk and hating himself even more for the confusion he heard in your voice when you called after him.

The door to the men’s room collided against the wall with a loud bang, and Bucky marched over to the taps. He slapped some cold water onto his face and braced his hands on either side of the basin, his head bowed between them. Deep breaths. One, two, three…

The door to the men’s room squeaked open but Bucky paid it no mind.

“Um…sir?”

Bucky’s head shot up and he looked at the intruder with wide eyes.

It was him.

Bucky felt jealousy rear its ugly head.

“What?” His voice was raspy, and he cleared his throat when Adonis flinched. He was a lot younger than Bucky first thought.

“Sorry…” Bucky gave him a small half-hearted smile.

He smiled back.

“No problem, sir.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously and Bucky almost gaped. He didn’t know that Adonis even knew what nerves were. “I uh, I was just talking to your wife…”

Bucky didn’t correct him, feeling a swell of pride replace his envy. Yes, mine. My wife.

“She’s been a huge help, really, I get a little anxious sometimes and she’s helped me keep a level head, you know?” He was rambling now, and Bucky’s eyes softened. He looked like a nervous little kid in a gigantic body.

“I’ve been trying to kinda get myself to talk to you for a little while now, but I guess I was worried about what you’d say.” He heaved a deep breath and for the first time since they’d met, Bucky shot him a genuine smile.

“I know you’ll have a spot available on your squad soon, and well, I just wanted you know that it’s been a dream of mine to be mentored by you…unless- unless you already have someone.” He added, wide eyed.  

Bucky’s brows shot up in surprise. Of all the things he’d expected him to say, that hadn’t even come close to the list. This guy…he looked up to him?

“Oh, wow…uh, no. I don’t have anyone in mind.” Bucky chuckled at the spark of hope in the kid’s eyes.

“Tell you what, why don’t you get my details from my wife and we’ll schedule a meeting at, uh…at a better time.” Bucky gestured to the bathroom and they shared a laugh.

“Yeah- yes, no problem!” Adonis nodded. “I hope you feel better soon, sir!”

He shot Bucky one last grin before he left.

Bucky sighed and looked at his reflection in the mirror. In a way, he was grateful. The kid had been a distraction he didn’t know he’d needed.

“Nuh-uh, nope. I don’t think so!”

Bucky winced at the determination in your tone and he knew there was no way he was getting out of this one. Your hand grasped his elbow as soon as he left the bathroom and you dragged him into the empty break room. He’d almost forgotten about how he left you at his desk.

“Sit.” You pointed at the couch.

He did, and you sat beside him.

“Now, what’s going on?” You gnawed at your bottom lip in worry, turning to face him.  

Bucky didn’t meet your eye, his mind once again trudging up all of the doubts he’d tried and failed to bury in the bathroom. God, why did he have to care about this? Why did anyone have to care about what they looked like? He got you all worked up and worried for what? His own insecurity?

“It- It doesn’t matter. It’s stupid.” He shook his head.

“Hey,” you frowned, “it’s not stupid and if it matters to you then it matters to me.”

“Come on, Buck…talk to me.” You pleaded.

His shoulders slumped in defeat. He couldn’t leave it like this. You’d be confused, your confusion would lead to sadness, and sadness was not something he liked seeing you wear.

“Do you think I’m fat?”

You blinked. That was…not what you’d expected. With the panic you’d seen on his face earlier, you’d feared that someone was sending death threats to him again or something.

“What?” You shook your head.

“I just, I see you and Adonis over there,” he jerked his head in your intern’s direction, “and he looks…well, he looks a hell of a lot better than I do.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the nickname, but it came to a quick halt the moment you noticed a small frown on his face as he eyed your intern. This really bothered him.

“Babe, look at me.” You didn’t give him much of a choice anyway, with your hand cupping his cheek.

Your heart broke at the insecurity you could see in his sad eyes.

“I love you,” you couldn’t stress it enough, “more than anything, and I’ve loved you for a long time.”

“I didn’t fall for your abs, or your biceps, or whatever it is you think makes him desirable,” you shook your head with a quiet scoff. There was a slight shift in his expression, nearly imperceptible if you didn’t know him, but you did. It was a small spark of hope that flickered over his face, a trace of that old confidence that you’d build up brick by stubborn brick if you needed to.

Your thumb gently trailed back and forth along his stubbled jaw and his lips twitched upwards.

“I fell for that smile,” you pressed a slow kiss to his lips, before pulling away and trailing your fingertips across his cheek “and these eyes…”

The reverence and warmth they held whenever he looked at you was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. Even now, when he was hurting and uncertain, he’d show you nothing but love.

“And that heart of gold you like to pretend you don’t have,” you teased with a wide grin, pleased to see that he was trying to fight back a smile at the sight. His hand gave your hip a light squeeze, a half-hearted and silent ‘behave’.

“But mostly,” your cheeky grin fell into something more genuine, something he couldn’t question or doubt, “I fell in love with your love.”

“Hm?” His brows furrowed.

“Do you love me, Bucky?”

“More than anything.” His answer was instant.

“I know, you show me every single day.” That’s exactly the point.

“There is no better feeling in the world than knowing you are loved and appreciated,” your smile fell, “and obviously I haven’t been doing a very good job of making you see that if you have these doubts…”

His eyes widened.

“No! That’s not…you’re- you’re perfect,” this time his hands were cupping your face, “I don’t doubt that you love me, I know you do…I just,” he sighed.

“I just thought that maybe you could do better,” he avoided your shocked gaze, “maybe I’m holding you back.”

Your hands came up to give his wrists a reassuring squeeze.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be, and no one I’d rather have. I’m yours, for as long as you’ll have me.”

His heart swelled in his chest and he took a deep shuddering breath. He really needed to hear that. He already knew it, but he needed to hear it.

“I love you.” 

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his arms.

You smiled, “I love you, too.”

I felt like this was really rushed but I hope you liked it either way! Thanks for reading! xx