#Peter once again coming in with the steel chair

[hemlock-dreams]

does harry osborn exist in peter's og world if so what's their relationship like and does he and norman exist in the new one

Peter's exemplary grades got him the chance (and scholarship!) to attend a prestigious nepobaby school for the last two years of college. He started later than most of the students, but that didn't stop him from staying late nights and doing extra credit to catch up.

That being said, some nepobabies (Harry, in particular) didn't like having someone like Peter sitting at the same table with them. They have much more of a rival-esque relationship than anything friendly- especially because Gwen was interested in Peter when Harry had been trying to get a date with her for ages.

In the new universe, Harry took over his father's role as head of Oscorp. As Peter Parker, he and Osborne don't have the same circles and don't ever meet. As Spider-Man, he's inadvertently helped out Oscorp a few times and their relationship is a 'live-and-let-live' sort of deal.

[unspeakable-imagination]

We Don't Have to Dance ||Part One

My masterlis is here and my requests are open!

Cw: Soulmate AU!, worst!Logan, use of tabacco and alcohol, poor mental health, mutant!reader fem!reader

It had been too long since your logan died. Every morning, you'd wake up in the X-Mansion, stating at the tattoo scrolled across your forearm reading, "James Howlett." Sometimes, you'd trace it with your fingers. Other times, you'd sit in your bed and cry. Those days, Colossus would have to drag out out of bed to the breakfast table.

It was one of those days. Colossus lifted you into the cook of his elbow and comforted you with his Russian songs that he continued to sing before lifting you upright and gently putting you into a your chair. Ellie and Yukio worked together in the kiten, plating you two waffles and handing it to the steel man, who, inturn sat it in front of you.

Days like this made it hard to eat. Tou mostly forked the waffles around until the others sat at the table with you, Colossus motioning to you and telling you something about eating that you were to consumed to hear.

You got the hint, though, and cut into the tiny stack of waffles to eat it. Looking up, you finally were able to tune into the conversation.

"Wade is asking us to come to a homecoming party. Imparently, there are two new additions to his single-room apartment. No, wait, she just said it's acctually three. He has a dog now, too."

"A homecoming party?" You questioned, shifting in your chair. "Who's he bring?"

"Didn't say, he says that he wants us to meet them." You nodded taking another bite as Collossus began to speak.

"How is he meant to have four people and a dog in that awfully small apartment?"

"I don't know," Yukio said," Maybe now that there is more people, they'd get enough income to movie into a new apartment?"

"That would be the realistic option," Ellie said.

You tuned out again, after that, playing with each bite of food before you ate it. Everyone's plates were already clear, and yours was down to the last bite. The moment tour fork hit your empty plate, you grabbed everyone eles' and stacked it onto yours. The looked at you, and Ellie and Yukio smiled.

As you walked towards the sink with the empty plates, you could hear them mutter about how you're getting better every day.

You pulled on the flats you were wearing in compbation with the mid-thigh kahki shorts. You had on some random white sleeve shirt, you didn't really care. What was important whas the lethar jacket ontop. It didn't smell like him anymore, but it reminded you of Logan. And it scared the people away. Any man that tried hitting on you, he tended to run away. You took a deep breath as tou treaded down the stairs to the kitchen to grab the pan of brownies that you'd made. Once it was secure in your hands, you twisted to run out the door, joining the others outside the vehicle that Colossus decided we take.

You didn't notice how long the drive was, you spent the whole thing looking out the window, watching the racing rain drops on the glass. You came to tour attention when you were all parked on the curb. You cringed, slightly. Colossus was usually a good driver, unless it came to parallel parking. You undid your seatbelt and situated the brownies under your jacket do they wouldn't get rained on. You threw open the door and slid out of the car, sprinting towards the apartment entrance. The others followed suit.

You made your way up the the second story and knocked on the door. Peter opened it for you and you thanked him, feeling towards the tiny table, not noticing the other people around aside for Buck, who sat silently at the table. You leaned close to him and squeezed his shoulders, whispering, "you can have the first brownie. Since you're my favorite."

She started to try and say thank you but you shushed him. "Hush, Wade says something like you've not spoken since the first movie or something. I done think you're allowed to talk," she joked. Buck only shook his head and grabbed his knife from his hip and cut into the brownies. You stood up and clapped your hands as you dpun around, speaking loud.

"Alrighty, Wade, who's the spec-" the words caught in your throat as you saw wade standing next to Logan and Laura. Your whole body went fridgid. Goosebumps ran up your skin and your throat went dry. You just sat there, still as death, stating at logan.

"[Y/n]! This is Logan and laura," and he held up the tiny dog in his hands. "And this is Mary Puppins, but we call her dogpool."

You didn't even pay attention, to shocked to speak. He looked so much like logan, just a little younger. He didn't seems sick, and he was staring right at you.

"[Y/N]," Colossus started, "It's him." You glanced at Colossus, and when Logan tried to take a step forward to you, you backed up, hitting the table.

"What is going on here," Wade asked, finally noticing the tension that the x-men had had since the moment that they walked in. "I don't understand. Did all of our panties turn to thongs?" He stuck his hand into his pants, "No, but I'm sensing some serious tension."

"I've got to go," you said, turning to go.out the door.

"No, [Y/N], Wait." Colossus was one step ahead and grabbed your shoulder, pulling you away from the door and towards the sofa. "You're staying here. You do not have a ride home. This could be good for you."

You were only silent, choosing not to fight. Instead, you chose to just listen to Colossus, shrugging his massive hand off, and sitting on the couch. You eyed logan the whole time. He had the same tells as before, but something about him was different. This wasn't the same Logan.

Wade handed the dog over to Logans arms, and he looked slightly disgusted at Wade, but quickly smiled at the dog as Wade began speaking. He clapped his hands. "Alright, everyone. These are my new friends. This is Logan, I found him in another universe and fed him like a dog, so I had to bring him home. As I think some if you know, this is his daughter x-23, also named Laura! And that little honeymuffin angel love is Mary Puppins, as stated before!"

You pursed your lips and watched the events unfold,unsure of what to do. Now that you realized that this Logan was from another place? It kicked you in the butt all over again that your soulmate really is dead.

"But peanut here is a new anchor being, so he's fixed out universe," Wade conveniently said, placing a hand on Logan's shoulder. You frowned. Nobody could replace your logan. Not the love you had with him. You nodded silently, trying to acknowledge what wade was saying, but became distraught. It only got worse when Logan sat in a chair, across from you.

He didn't say anything, he just sat there. Everybody had moved in with their party, taking to Laura and boggling at the now free dog. Exept you and Logan. You two just sat there, not talking, and occasionally looking to one another, only to look back down to the floor. It was like that for the whole night. Until Colossus said it was time to do home. You both sat there in silence, sitting in the bree of whatever your thoughts were.

When you did return to the mansion, you didn't say anything. You just went up the stairs into your room, and cried yourself to sleep.

[let-me-love-you-to-death]

Racing thoughts

Peter Steele X Reader

Warnings: anxiety, maybe ooc Peter, low self-esteem

Gender neutral reader

A small something for @cupidsl0ve since they asked :))

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You anxiously twisted your hands together as your partner put your camera up, the large man before you patiently waiting on a chair opposite you. With you starting a small journalism carrier with your friend, you'd wanted to interview some famous people you could think of that you admired, one of them being the infamous Peter Steele, the green man as some call him.

You could see why people thought he looks like a vampire, because from up close, he totally does. Except fr the fact that you actually don't feel threatened by him. Even without that, you still couldn't help but be anxious, even though you tried to hide it. Being before some so famous, so imposing, it just made you nervous.

The start of the interview had went well, him answering your questions, you writing notes, both of you having some small interesting conversations as he tried to put some humour in. You, for some reason, you started to overthink a bit, anxious as you didn't want to look stupid infront of your idol.

'he probably have people interviewing him left and right that are way better than me...' you keep thinking to yourself as you took a break, sitting on a couch instead of the small sofa you were on as you interviewed him.

To your surprise, he came to sit beside you as you fidgeted with your papers, re-reading the questions as your thoughts raced.

"Are you okay?" You were a tiny bit startled when you heard his voice, especially so close. You looked up at him with big anxious eyes without realizing, making him frown beige you gave him a slight nod. He seemed to be hesitant for a bit as you looked at eachother. As you were about to tell him you're just thinking, you were surprised once again by his arm gently wrapping around your shoulders and his large hand giving your opposite shoulder a slight squeeze, almost as if he thinks you're made of glass or he'd hurt you. Your head turned so fast to him that he almost flinched, but stayed there, his hand now overing over your shoulder before he pulled it back, seemingly looking a bit guilty.

"sorry, I should have asked..." he apologized, sincere, thinking that he did something wrong.

You were quick to reassure him as you looked from him and to his hand that now rested in his lap.

"No, it's okay! Sorry, I just ... didn't think you'd do that... that was nice" you add, getting a bit shy as a small embarrassed blush comes to your face. His expression relaxes as he gives you a small smile, chuckling. "Thank you...." you say and give him a soft smile as he gives you one back, the corner of his eye wrinkling a bit as his green eyes shone.

"Anytime..." he winked, making you blush some more.

"would you..." he started, seemingly finding his words as he looked tot he ground with a frown. You turned to him slightly, curious as you give him your attention.

"Would you like to talk some more after the interview, out of the record?"

~

[ananxiousgenz]

SONG FOR A CAGED LOVEBIRD: A TPP HADESTOWN AU

PART 8

so this one isn't in sequential order BUT it's important context that helps explain the twist at the end of part 7 and also some other things that will come up again later :)

HEY CREW IT'S FUN TIME @smidgen-of-hotboy @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @urjover @one-joe-spoopy @waters-and-the-wilde @demonic-panini

“Hey, Mista Steel?”

“Yes, Rita?”

“I got a question for ya.”

It was closing time at the bar, the last few customers finally beginning to trickle out into the arctic night air, and Juno and Rita were cleaning up empty glasses, stacking chairs, and wiping down tables. Buddy had come down from her room to “supervise” them, doing what was also known as “having her nightly shots of whisky”, and Peter was sitting with her.

“Shoot, Rita.”

“But I can’t shoot, Mista Steel! I ain’t got a gun!”’

Juno sighed heavily. “I know, Rita, it’s a figure of- nevermind. Ask your question.”

Rita swiped shot glasses off the surface of a table that had recently housed some particularly drunk travelers. “Where did that song come from?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know!! The song!! The pretty one you sing and make the flowers and stuff show up! Where did it come from?”

“I-” Juno paused mid-lifting a chair. “You know, I’m not really sure. It feels so familiar, like I’ve heard it before, but I’m not sure from where. I just came up with it, I guess.”

“Oh, but you have heard it before, darling. Have you ever heard the story of Hades and Persephone?” Buddy called, finishing one of the several shots lined up before her.

“Hades and Persephone? Like the gods?” Peter asked, his brow lightly scrunched in thought. “I thought that was nothing more than an old fairytale.”

“Exactly so, Pete. But sometimes fairytales can hold valuable information regarding one’s current situation.” Buddy slid a shot across the counter to Peter, who caught it expertly. “I told you their story once a while back, Juno, dear. Why don’t you recite it to us?”

“Uhhhhhh……” Juno had all the eagerness of a deer with a gun at its neck. “Can I say no?”

Buddy sighed dramatically before taking another shot. “I suppose I cannot force you. Very well then. If Juno will not tell it, then it appears I must take matters into my own hands. Gather round, children. It’s time for a story.”

Rita stopped working and happily trotted over to Buddy’s chair, taking a seat on the floor as eagerly as ever, and Juno slowly and reluctantly made his way over behind her. Buddy tended to tell stories about the old times, stories of gods and heros and monsters, almost like she had actually been there. She hadn’t, of course. But she excelled in acting like she had. 

“Now. Once upon a time, there was a god who was the king of the Underworld. His name was Hades, and he lived in Hadestown, way down under the ground, where the air is hot and the souls are many. Whether the town was named after him or he was named after the town is a fact that has been lost to history, my dear, but that is besides the point.

“He was rather lonely, this king, despite all his glorious wealth and all the souls living in the underworld. So, he made the decision to look for a wife. He went up to the surface to find the other gods and discuss his plan with them, but as soon as he made it up, he saw her there. Dancing in her mother’s garden in the sunlight and fresh air. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her name was Persephone, darlings, the goddess of spring and rebirth.

“He saw her standing there, alone against the great blue sky, and was overcome with a feeling he had never known before: he was in love.” At this, Juno and Peter, who had been holding hands beneath the table gave each other a look, and Juno squeezed Peter’s hand tightly.

Buddy continued: “He spoke with her a while and convinced her to come home with him and be his wife. Persephone’s mother threw a fit, of course, but we can never rely on the opinions of our parents to be the correct ones. They were married and lived quite happily after that, with the exception of Persephone having to spend six months away from Hades to ensure a successful spring and summer back on the surface. It was believed that this cycle between them is what created the seasons and the rhythm of the earth.

“The point of the matter is this, Juno dear: the song you sing to bring the flowers back now is the same song Hades sang for Persephone at their wedding, the same song they both sang to keep the rest of the world in harmony. At least in the version I’ve been told.”

Juno looked suddenly thoughtful, chewing on his lower lip. “Ohhhhhhh. So that’s why it can do all of that stuff. It was already connected to the seasons even before I-”

“WAITAMINUTE!” Rita cried, nearly bursting in her excitement. “If those old gods ‘n stuff really made the seasons happen, then why did they stop? What happened to Persephone? Is she okay? ARE WE GONNA HAVE TO GO ON A HEIST TO SAVE HER??”

Buddy chuckled warmly and shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not, Rita dear. You see, Persephone doesn’t exist anymore.”

“‘Doesn’t exist anymore’? Whatever do you mean, Ms. Aurinko?” Peter asked, tilting a head.

Buddy raised an flaming red eyebrow and tossed some of her long hair over her shoulder. “I believe I told you to stop calling me Ms. Aurinko and start calling me Buddy.”

“My mistake. It’s a force of habit Ms.- Buddy.”

She smiled then, all neat white teeth and gentle affection. “Thank you, Pete. And to answer your question, I mean to say that the original Persephone is dead. Has been for centuries.”

“She’s- she’s- she’s dead?” Rita whispered, eyes wide and brimming with tears. “Whatdaya mean she’s dead, Ms. A? She can’t be dead! That means spring is neva comin’ back eva again and we’re all gonna die and-”

“No, no, no, Rita dear. I said Persephone was dead. I never said the goddess was dead. You see, the gods, as much as they would like to be, are not entirely immortal. Sometimes, they get into situations where they die, whether by man or by each other, and their positions in the pantheon are left open. Those gods will then be reincarnated with new names, and allowed to resume their place in the pantheon. The original Hades and Persephone died quite some time ago and have reportedly had a few reincarnations since then. It seems that perhaps the reason the seasons are so wrong now is because something has happened to Persephone’s reincarnation.”

An uneasy silence fell over the table. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together and figure out that whatever had happened was clearly very, very bad for the world to be in the state it was. Maybe they were stuck somewhere. Maybe being held captive. Maybe even actually dead, with no reincarnation to follow. The gruesome possibilities were endless.

“Well. I must say, that was a cheerful note to end the evening on. Let’s liven up the mood in here a bit, shall we?” Buddy said, shattering the silence and standing from her seat. “Finish the rest of these shots for me, darlings. And then, Juno, would you be a doll and play us a tune on the piano? I feel a bit like dancing tonight.”

Juno grinned. It was going to be a long night.

[the-golden-comet]

✨Find The Word Tag✨

Thank you so very much for tagging me, @fortunatetragedy and @gioiaalbanoart ! I’ll combine your words for the Peter Hart word hunt! ✨

OUR words: corybantic, petrichor, gold, sky, Bride, fork, coin, snack

For Peter Hart:

corybantic and petrichor: 0. Nice words, by the way! ✨

gold (x6) (could you tell it’s my favorite color? ✨)

A chipper crew aboard The renovated Golden Phoenix vessel laughed and sang as they manned the rigs and hoisted the black, golden-trimmed sails. The deckhands swabbed and sang, clicking their mops down to a rhythmic, upbeat shanty. Victor polished a cannon with a rag as he whistled to the tune, scrubbing the grime and mold from the mortar as his sleeves blackened with soot. At the helm, a 26-year old Captain Peter Hart; His hair, still golden like the sun above and the insignia on the sails that carried the crew, shimmered underneath his inherited black tricorn.

His haircut was short, resting just below the ears as a few strands swept across his forehead in flat bangs. Peter’s jaw, chiseled and refined with his coming of age, was only gently stubbled. He was wearing his father’s old trenchcoat, which fit perfectly over his broad shoulders, black and buttoned down in gold trim. A white, lightweight shirt rested beneath the heavy coat, soaked and stained in seawater, with a splash of blood from his past fallen foes. The black-leathered boots, scuffed and scum-laiden, fit snugly to the knees as his white and heavily-stained cotton pant legs tucked in the straps.

The captain’s fingers tapped on the spokes of his wheel as he hummed in tune with his hearty crewmates, the hands covered in tanned-hide gloves that tied at the elbows, resting under the arms of the coat and stopping at the rolled-up shirt sleeves. He tapped his foot as he tilted the wheel clockwise, the golden rings adorning his exposed fingers clanking against the steel supports of the axle and glinting to match the buckle on his brown leather belt. Once a cabin boy, now a fine young captain, this was the tale of Peter Hart, the Golden.

sky

The captain yawned up at the speckled sky. “You think the bounty’s gonna be greater than ten-thousand?”

“Easily, m’boy.” Davey rolled his eyes equal to his shoulders. “At least a hundred thousand on your head.”

Wonder what that brings my total up to now~?” Peter chuckled.

“I can’t even count that high, laddie.” Davey shook his head slowly in disappointment.

bride (x2)

“But you have to marry SOMEONE soon, Benjamin!!” Matthias huffed in indignance. “You are my only son, and therefore the only one who can produce an heir. I’ll be damned if I let another year go on without so much as a bride.”

“Father, please— ” Benjamin sighed roughly, yet was cut off again by his father’s raging temper.

“—ENOUGH. Benjamin Bartholomew, you will pick out a bride tonight, or I will choose for you.”

Fork (x2)

Benjamin stared down at his plate, as pale as the ivory itself. He couldn’t even touch the food, let alone stomach it. His heart had been beating hard all morning, and the thought of eating anything would make the food violently come back up. Peter, on the other hand, nearly finished his portion as he pointed a silver fork at the forlorn prince.

“Eat it, before it gets cold.” He spoke in between mouthfuls. “I got the silver out for you and everything.”

“I-I’m not hungry….” Benjamin muttered.

Peter caught the lie. “I heard your stomach growling.”

The prince corrected himself. “I c-can’t stomach anything right n-now….”

“Ahhh….” The captain finished his meal, wiped his lips on a napkin, then leaned back in his chair. “….well, you need to eat. I’m not having you faint on my floor.”

Benjamin gulped hard, grabbing a fork as it shook in his grasp. He successfully managed to shear off a piece of fish meat, bringing it to his mouth as he carefully felt around the flesh for bones. Satisfied, Peter resumed: “So, Benji. Heard you were going to get married…”

coin (x5)

“Is that what it’s all about to you?!” Benji yanked away from Alexander’s grasp. “The worthless coin?!”

“WORTHLESS COIN?! ” Alex chided. “That coin could build an empire tenfold. THAT COIN could fix a falling nation. That coin….” He took in a shaky, fire-fueled inhale. “….is worth far more than your stupid, fucking heart.”

Benjamin’s body was tense as Prince Alexander tried to apprehend him again. “Get your hands OFF of me!!”

snack (only one. Nice. ✨)

The First Mate scoffed. “Aye, but how are we going to sneak our boats back to her without becoming Kraken snacks?!”

I’ll tag (no pressure): @wyked-ao3 , @sunglasses-in-the-bentley , @autism-purgatory , @alinacapellabooks , +open tag! ✨

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 491, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death

WORDS: 1140

Because of my unexpected reaction to the new medication, I was to stay an additional two days in the hospital, which only meant one thing.

More disgusting hospital food.

Ick.

I woke up the next morning with a moan, blinking the sleep encrustment from my eyes as I sought out my husband and newborn daughter. I relaxed when I found them over by the window, where Peter was describing the view in a gentle rumble.

“And that tree over there probably has a nest with eggs in it,” he was saying. “Maybe bluebirds or robins or the likes.”

I smiled as I rolled onto my side to face him before sitting up and turning my sleepy sapphire blue eyes to face them.

PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT- PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT- PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT- PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT- PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT- PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT- PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT-PAT

“Incoming!” Peter chuckled as laughter and cheers rang from the halls right before the door slammed open with a BANG and in poured a small army of inflatable dinosaurs.

I burst out into loud cackles as the kids jumped into the bed with me, now knowing why everyone outside had been making such delighted and amused sounds.

“The dinos are back!” I gasped as little girl pressed herself under an arm, making what I could only assume were what she thought dinosaurs sounded like. “To what privilege do we honor with the return of the inflatable dinosaurs?”

“No such special occasion,” shrugged Katie with a girlish giggle.

“We just wanted to bring them out!” Elizabeth informed me as the two of them proudly showed off their American Girl mini me’s, also in dinosaur costumes, abet not inflatable.

“Mamamamamamama!” screeched Baby Tommy as the chubby little man army crawled to my other arm before sitting up and looking at me with worship in his baby eyes. “Mamamamamamama!” He proudly showed me his dollie, who was dressed in a matching outfit to what Elle and Jing were wearing.

“I did not sleep much last night mommy,” Elizabeth told me, drawing attention to the dark bags etched underneath her eyes. “My anxiety was horrible.”

“Poor baby,” I cooed, welcoming her in against me. “Do you want to take a nap now?” I chuckled as I realized that she was conked out, breathing easily against my chest.

“Knock knock!”

I turned my attention and smiled at Isabelle, who carried a textbook in her arms.

“Sorry, do you mind if I study?” she asked as she situated herself in a chair. “My American history teacher has been hinting at dropping a pop quiz on us all.”

“No, go ahead!” I chuckled as a police officer appeared in the doorway.

“Can I come in?” he hemmed, shifting from one foot to the other awkwardly.

“I can take the kids to go show the nurses what they’re wearing!” Isabelle offered at once before herding the terror of inflatable dinosaurs out the door and back down the hallway again, leaving Elizabeth behind to continue napping against me.

“We caught the young man who purposely hit Mary Claire before fleeing the scene,” he told us bluntly. “It’s still an in progress case, but I thought you may want to know that the perpetrator has been collared.”

“Oh thank god,” Peter sighed, coming over to offer me with Baby Violet Marie for a snuggle.

“Your friend, Slitzy-is that his name?-  chased the young man for close to three miles and caused quite the chase between law enforcement and other people wanting to bring him to justice.” The corners of his eyes crinkled upwards.

“Did he say why he did it?” Peter’s voice was tight as he glared a hole into the floor. “Did he say why he tried to kill my wife and unborn daughter?”

“It’s still under investigation,” the officer repeated himself in a nervous tone of voice, shifting on his feet as Peter raised himself to his full height and puffed out his chest intimidatingly.

“I see.” I could practically see the rage rolling off of my husband’s shoulders in angry red waves.

Just then, Baby Violet Marie let out an extremely violent sneeze before recurling herself back into my chest with a soft baby mumble.

“Oh bless you, sweet baby!” Peter cooed softly, immediately dropping his big bad beefcake exterior at once. He took to his knees, reaching across to press gentle knuckles into the side of my face.

The newborn shifted in place for a brief moment before settling back down once more, her little foot twitching as she dreamed sweet little baby dreams.

“Sweet baby,” I murmured in a soft voice as the police officer left and the terror of inflatable dinosaurs came back into the room, causing for a happy smile to overtake my face. “Adorable baby. You are mommy’s good girl.”

I smiled when Baby Violet Marie looked up at me with my sapphire blue eyes before entangling her itty bitty baby fist into my loose curls and drifting back off to sleep once more.

I began to hum softly as Peter draped her with a green blankie that I had lovingly crocheted for the newest member of the family.

“Gramacy, my love,” I murmured, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I think I’ll take a little nap now.”

“Okay sweetheart,” he chuckled, scooping Baby Violet Marie from my arms, carefully forcing her to let go of my curls and replacing them with his hair as he blessed her forehead with a whiskery kiss. “Take a nap now. I’ll give Baby Violet Marie a bottle if you’re not up soon, yeah?”

“Perfect daddy,” I mewled, chuckling as Elizabeth curled in closer to me. “I love you, my Elizabeth. Let’s go off into a land of dreams and love together, shall we now?”

Gramacy, thank you, old French?

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@ch3rry-c01a

[kerie-prince]

the intern

Peter Parker x Reader (college au)

requested: (anon) plz plz plz give me some college aged, super powerful ( think stark ceo powerful ) peter parker shit. idc what the rest of the story is about, i just need a brooding, smoldering, suit wearing, extremely expensive, college aged spiderman. plz and thank you!!!!

warnings: language

summary: When you start a new internship at Stark Industries, you're not only surprised to find Peter working as your boss, but that he's not the shy neighborhood boy you grew up with

a/n: this doesn't follow canon so for this imagine, hammer industries is just a rival company and the snap never happened lol also i don't know anything more than operating a phone so don't expect me to write sciencey, techy stuff lmao

(gif source)

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you were running across the road to jump into a cab that was available. Your phone hadn't been charging all night as you thought it had which caused you to wake up forty-five minutes before the start of the interview. You need this internship before you graduate from Empire State and get your degree in robotics.

On the way there, you nearly got car sick as the driver took sharp turns and nearly ran past intersections seconds before they became red. Once in front of Hammer Industries, your heels clicked loudly as you ran inside the tall building. You checked in with the front desk and took the elevator up to the 10th floor.

Just as you arrived, Justin Hammer was calling your name. “I'm right here!” you nearly tripped on your heels and your breaths were short.

“I've called your name three times, do you understand what that makes you look like, correct?” Justin stood unphased as you stood up straight and tried to steady your breath. “All these people are on time. Some of these folks have been here for hours, even.”

“Yes, sir. I’m so sorry–”

“Shame, I really liked your resume and your report on the expansion of nano-technology. Try again next year, maybe.” Justin started to call out the next participant and when she got up you stepped in front of her, “Please Mr. Hammer, I need this internship or I can't graduate.”

The people in the waiting room had their eyes on the two of you, tension so thick that it was almost hard to breathe. “Then maybe you should have come on time,” he pushed you aside to let the next person in to interview. You quickly ran back out and spoke to no one all the way home. Your eyes and cheeks were aching as you held in the tears during your Uber ride. The driver wanted to ask if you were okay, but if you were to break down in his car he’d probably be stuck having to listen to what happened and if he was honest with himself, he didn't actually care.

Once you got to your apartment, you made a straight line to the kitchen. “Hey, how’d the interview go?” MJ, your roommate, asked while still looking at her computer. You reached into the freezer for your emergency ice cream pint, snatched a spoon and walked into your room without saying anything. “That bad, I guess,” MJ said to herself.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

You sat with MJ and Ned in the cafeteria, but had not touched any of the food on your plate. Your head was laid on the steel table and you just continuously groaned. “I’m a failure,” you whined.

“No, what you are is fucking dumb,” MJ commented as she ate.

“Thanks, Michelle, that makes me feel so much better,” you looked up to glare at her before laying her head back down. Ned felt bad that his friend was in despair, “How come you didn't ask Peter for help?”

“Huh?” you lifted your head back up some of your hair falling onto your face.

“Yeah, Peter already works at Stark Industries, why didn't you just ask him to get you in? You could even skip the internship altogether and be in full time,” Ned suggested. You gave it some thought, but something about it didn't sound right.

“No, I don't want to bother Peter. I don’t want him to think that I’m only calling him for a job,” you sighed. Ned texted Peter anyways. Unexpectedly, Peter texted him back immediately.

“He says it’s fine,” Ned showed you his phone to read the text. ‘Yeah man, tell her to come in tomorrow and Ms. Potts will interview her’

You let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding and pulled out your phone.

‘Thank you so much for helping me out’

(…)

‘No problem, anything for a friend’

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

The Stark Industries building was huge. It almost looked taller than the Empire State Building, and maybe it actually was. Your legs were shaking as you stared up at it. “Here goes nothing,” you assured yourself.

The lobby was bustling with people; workers walking around, a group of kids that seemed to be here on a field trip, and some teens taking pictures in front of one of Mr. Stark's Iron Man suits.

The trip up to the 17th floor was crowded with people as more and more entered in every passing floor. You had to squeeze yourself out and accidentally stepped on someone’s foot in the process.

Looking around, your jaw dropped. It was an open laboratory with groups of people putting together small robots, flying drones, and people laughing and talking. It was such a fun and cool looking environment, you wondered why you didn't just apply here in the first place.

Pepper Potts spotted you walking around and approached you with a tap on your shoulder. “Hi, I’m Pepper. You must be Y/N,” she reached her hand out to shake yours which you accepted. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

“Peter’s told me a lot about you. Come, follow me,” Pepper’s office had glass walls and a view of New York from behind her desk. You weren't particularly fond of heights, but even you would love to have an office view like that. Pepper gestured to the chair in front of her as she smoothed her dress to sit in hers. “So, I see here that you had an interview at Hammer’s. Can I ask why you chose them?” You didn't even know how they got that information. You hadn't seen or spoken to Peter in quite a while, so how Pepper knew that was beyond you. You sat there with your lips moving to say something but nothing was coming out.

Pepper seemed to have caught on what you were thinking and elaborated, “Before I do any interviewing, I do full background checks on everyone.” She had a gentle smile which made you feel better. You thought she would scold you or something considering the question did more than catch you off guard.

“My mother used to work there for a long time and I figured that I would follow,” you explained. Pepper nodded her head and wrote some notes down. She looked onto her computer and looked at everything there was about you. “Well, I see here that you have exceptional grades. 4.7 GPA since you started school and your paper on nano-technology has gotten much praise. I think even Tony read it.” No way. The Tony Stark read my paper? “So tell me, do you see yourself working here at Stark Industries?”

You looked outside and watched everyone in the open lab again. “Yes.”

“Then that’s all I need to hear. We’d love to have you here,” she reached over to shake your hand. You looked at her surprised and hesitantly shook hers. “Welcome to the team, Y/N.”

“Thank you so much!” You cupped her hand with both of yours and shook it a little too quickly, but she didn't seem to mind. You were ecstatic to start your path to your career, and at a dream place at that.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

Your alarm rang at the time you set it to, but there was no need for it. You couldn't sleep all night. Today is your first day of your internship and you were feeling so many things at once. Excited, nervous, happy, scared…

You tried to restrain yourself to a light breakfast, but MJ’s pancakes were to die for that you ate two whole stacks. You looked through your closet just about fifteen times; you had already picked an outfit the following night with the help of MJ, but when you put it back on, you hated it. It sucked for your roommate seeing as she had to sit through you changing from eight other outfits.

You tried to picture the lab again to see how other people dressed for a better idea to base it on your outfit choice. From what you remember, it was pretty casual, so that’s what you stuck to.

You were given your pass the day you were hired, so you had no issue walking inside. The elevator was just as packed as it was last time, but you were more composed so there were no toes being stepped on this time. You weren't exactly sure as to where you had to go, so you looked around to see if there were other interns to ask where to start.

“Y/N!” Peter’s voice surprised you from behind. Your shoulders jumped a bit, but relaxed at the view of his face. His face… you actually hadn't seen him for quite a while. Months, maybe. His jawline was more defined, and his once floppy hair was styled neatly. You tried to not look him up and down, but the temptation was definitely there. And the other thing, his voice was deeper than you last remembered. Is this really Peter Parker? “Hey, Peter.”

He gave you a hug that nearly made you lose breath. He was stronger than you remembered. A memory flashed back to when you were in junior high; you, Ned and Peter were hanging around the local park and you beat Peter on rounds on the monkey bars. He gave up after a couple bars, but you went back and forth a couple times. ‘Show off.’ But now, he had muscles that the shirt he was wearing hugged his biceps.

The hug was quick, and you had to pretend that he didn't just squeeze some life out of you. “Do you work on this floor?”

“Yeah, you’re actually assigned to work with my team. Come, I’ll show you around.” He started walking and you noticed how his posture changed. Damn, I know it hasn't been this long since I've seen him. Why does he look so different? He was wearing trousers. Trousers? Peter hates trousers. But his ass is looking great–

“Hey guys, this is Y/N. She’s going to be working with us as an intern. And I'll say this beforehand, no she's not going to be taking coffee or lunch orders,” Peter introduced you. There were various aged people in this group. Some were your age, and one person looked to have been in his thirties. Peter is in charge of this group? They all said ‘hi’ to you and went around introducing themselves.

Once that was finished, Peter pulled a chair for you on the table. “You’ll take notes for me while I give this presentation,” he whispered to you before walking in front of the table and started writing on the clear glass board.

He was talking quickly and didn't stumble over his words like he used to. Everyone was listening to him attentively and you jotted notes down as quickly as you could. Every now and then, you would steal glimpses of him and feel a sort of… well you felt something. Amazement? Inspiration? Adoration?

No doubt was Peter one of the smartest people you've ever met and here he was leading his own team and making potential products for Stark Industries at such a young age. Seeing him at work was so… it was indescribable to you but all you could think of was how different he is now. In a good way, of course.

Peter Parker has been your friend for years and to see him change from a bumbling, shy, adorable nerd into a confident, intelligent working man attracted you.

When you got home, you thought a lot about your first day. Being an intern at Stark Industries was really fun, so far. You weren't expected to do silly things like get coffee or lunch for everyone or pick up someone’s dry cleaning. You actually learned something and even had your opinions heard on some of the things that Peter suggested for his team’s upcoming product presentation.

If this is what it's like to be an intern, you couldn't imagine what it would be like working full time.

“How'd it go?” MJ stuck her head in your room. “It was fun. I'm working with Peter,” you explained your day to her.

“Cool,” was the last thing she said before she went to her own room for the night.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

In the past few months, your internship at Stark’s has been going swimmingly. Everyone's been so nice, and the work is so fascinating. You've gotten closer with Peter and along the way, he felt like he was more than a friend and boss to you.

Currently, everyone was getting ready for their final presentations for the upcoming annual Stark Industries Convention. It was going to be Peter’s first year presenting his own project with his team and you were so excited to be a part of it.

The time you’ve spent with Peter was really fun. He was a good mentor and a great friend. The only thing was that you couldn't help but look at him a little too long, and you’ve found yourself thinking about him during your classes or doing your homework. The shy boy from Midtown High was no more, replaced– no, grown into the Peter you know now. But you pushed all feelings aside to focus on your next thesis paper and mock-up of the handout brochures of Peter’s project.

Sometimes, you didn't even feel like an intern as Peter would ask for any ideas you had to make the project better and even let you help with assembly. He stayed true to his words and you’ve never once had to run for coffee or things like that. There’d be times when you would study some of the little parts under a magnifying glass and he’d come up slightly behind you and explain about some of the bits on the working table.

And every time he did that, your breath would be stuck in your throat and you’d have to remind yourself that this was just Peter helping you out and you’re just learning. But it was normal to want more every now and then… right?

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

The convention was just a few days away and you had trouble finding something to wear. These events were usually black tie events, but did that mean the presenting teams as well? Wouldn't that be uncomfortable?

One of the guys on your team, Richie, sat with you during lunch and talked about how he was probably going to wear the same suit as always. Not because he couldn't afford a new suit, but he was just a simple person and he only wears it once a year for the conventions and that’s all, so it’s still in mint condition.

The girls on your team and some from others were going dress shopping the day before and invited you to join. You were excited mainly because now you don't have to bother MJ for it.

Speaking of MJ, you were going to ask her to come with you. Pepper sent out the electronic invitations to everyone in the company and authorized plus ones to even interns. She’s never been to one – for reasons you were still confused about – but you wanted your best friend to be there for you. And if not MJ, then you bet Ned would still come with you. Wait, what if he’s going with Peter?

On cue, Peter had sat in the chair next to yours in the small break room, “Hey, Y/N.”

“Oh, hey Pete. You excited for Saturday?” Peter quietly stirred his coffee and gave you a small smile, “Uh, yeah. I’m nervous, but I’ve worked really hard on this. And everyone, too. Including you.”

You slightly blushed. I didn't do all that much you thought. You two just sat there taking small sips from the hot, bitter beverage.

“So… I wanted to ask you something,” Peter started.

“Mhm?” The coffee nearly slipped past your lips. You quickly grabbed a napkin to lightly dab some of it off of your lips.

“Well, as you know, we can bring anyone with us to the convention,” he trailed off.

“Yes?” Is he going to…

“And I wanted to know if you were bringing MJ with you.” Oh. You nodded your head and thought you hid your disappointment well but without knowing, Peter actually caught it for a split second. “Good. You can come with me,” he smiled and stood up.

You were in awe; without effort, Peter just asked you to be his date for Saturday.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆:

“Dude, how are you not ready yet? He’s gonna be here any minute,” MJ sat at her computer per usual working. Your music was too loud for her taste playing from your shared bathroom. Peter said he would pick you up at 7, and it was currently 6:50.

You had put on and removed your make-up at least five times. Something was always wrong; one of the wings would either be thicker than the other, the blush would be the wrong shade, or the lipliner kept going out of place. But, alas, you finally nailed it.

Your hair was styled half up with elegant curls and braids. In between some braids were little bits of baby’s breath flowers. Most likely, you were going to have a hard time taking those out but they looked cute and it was too late to take them out.

Your dress was right above your knee and flowed comfortably so you wouldn't have a hard time walking. It was a neutral taupe color and had a V-line that ended just above cleavage and hugged the curve of your waist. You paired it with simple black heels and a small, white handbag.

“He’s here,” MJ informed you.

“Okay,” you took a deep breath, “what do you think?” You spun around and held your arms out. “You look really pretty. Now go get ‘em. I’ll watch it on the live stream.” She gave you a lazy thumbs up and resumed her work.

Outside was Peter in an all-black apparel. His dress shirt had only one button undone, and he had a loose blazer that accentuated the dip of his shoulders. He stood against the limo with his hands at his sides. God, he’s gonna be the death of me.

When he caught sight of you, he had a flirtatious smirk on his lips and held out for your hand. “Peter, where’d this limo come from?”

“Mr. Stark set it up for me,” he stated like it was no big deal. Must be nice being his favorite. He held the door for you to climb in and closed the door behind him. “We’re ready, Happy,” he told the driver. Happy rolled his eyes, closed the window and drove off.

The convention was off to a great start; Tony Stark came in with his suit as he always loved to do and started introductions before everyone else scattered around to look at the projects of the many departments in his company. Some groups of certain departments had large stages, some had small stands, like Peter’s.

There were still large crowds coming to see the smaller presentations, and everyone seemed to be fascinated with Peter's. You stood on the side as his team operated the machine and Peter spoke. He looked confident and it was mesmerizing to watch him.

After the night was over, all employee’s and some guests were brought back to headquarters for the after party. You walked around with Peter and had flutters in your heart every time he held the small of your back. The most exciting part of the night was meeting Tony Stark in person. He greeted Peter warmly, and then his eyes landed on you, “Peter, who’s this?”

“Oh, this is Y/N. She’s a friend of mine,” he gestured for you. You shook Tony’s hand and stood starstruck. “The one you don’t shut up about?” Pepper hit his shoulder and laughed nervously.

“Wait, I’ve heard about you. Buddy of mine works at Empire State and he showed me your paper, it was really good.” You were still shocked that he had even read it and here he was talking to you about it. You went back and forth talking about nano-technology.

On the way home, you and Peter talked and laughed about things you told him as you caught him up to what was happening on campus when he couldn't be there. It was a really fun night, and Peter was more noticeably relaxed now that the hard part was over. “Alright, home sweet home,” Happy announced through the window.

“Well, that’s me,” you smiled sadly, not wanting the night to end. You reached to open the door but Peter climbed out from his side. He walked around to open your door and just like he did earlier, held his hand out for you to grab and assist you out the limo. What was different this time was that he kept his hand in yours as he walked you to the door of the apartments. “I had a great time with you tonight,” Peter confessed.

“Me too,” your voice was soft and low for only him to hear. Peter’s eyes switched from looking into yours to your lips before he grabbed your face with both hands and kissed you. The kiss was needy, passionate, but had a certain gentleness to it. Once he felt you kiss him back with the same fervor, he deepened the kiss and brought one hand to pull your waist closer to him.

You pulled apart to regain your breath and looked to admire his swollen lips and he copied the same notion. He leaned in to give you a gentle kiss and pulled away, “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Peter.” Your cheeks were flushed and your face was warm. You watched him as he left and ran inside. Upstairs in your apartment, you found MJ and Ned sitting on the couch with a bag of chips in each of their hands.

“Good night?” Ned asked. You just nodded and walked slowly to your room.

“We saw the whole thing, by the way,” MJ said nonchalantly. You looked back to glare at your best friends, Ned smiling innocently at you and MJ keeping her straight face.

You changed into your pajamas and laid on your bed on your back, looking up at the ceiling. You couldn't wait to go back to work on Monday.

—

requests open!

[queenlucythevaliant]

My tags:

narnia: Anything involving The Chronicles of Narnia

     Book tags:

     reading fairy tales again: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

     aslan you’re bigger: Prince Caspian

     into light: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

     night under narnia: The Silver Chair

     narnia and the north! hurrah!: The Horse and His Boy

     founded in song: The Magician’s Nephew

     chapter one: The Last Battle

     Character tags:

     high king over all the rest: Peter Pevensie

     tender hearted big sis: Susan Pevensie

     the traitor who mended: Edmund Pevensie

     dear darling heart-daughter of aslan: Lucy Pevensie

     the king’s man: Eustace Scrubb

     dying of thirst: Jill Pole

     the most unfortunate boy: Shasta/Cor

     true as steel: Aravis 

     the magician’s nephew no longer: Digory Kirke

     game if you are: Polly Plummer

     Other:

     long and happy was their reign: Golden Age

     once there were four children: The four Pevensies together

     a narnian look about them: The Friends of Narnia as a unit

     the narnian air: Things that remind me of Narnia’s world

     no such thing as starch or flannel or elastic: clothes that look Narnian    

     jack: C.S. Lewis himself

     leah’s artbreeder narnia project 2k22: project I did depicting Narnia characters using Artbreeder 

     till we have faces: What it says on the tin

tolkien legendarium: The works of J.R.R. Tolkien

     there and back again: The Hobbit

     i will not say the day is done: The Lord of the Rings 

     aurë entuluva!: The Silmarillion

     in our madness: The Fëanorians

     the sundering doom: The Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth

     tollers: J.R.R. Tolkien himself

     leah’s silm artbreeder project 2k22: Project I did depicting First Age characters using Arbreeder, ultimately culminating in the lineage of Elrond

only Thou art holy: Catch all for matters of Christian faith

     bible humans: the real people of Scripture

     theodicy: the problem of suffering

     the unquenchable fire: Christian history. Protestantism. Generations of the faithful. More of a vibe than anything else.

     sunday school kid: Christian culture

     Jesus laughed: Christian humor

     glory to God in the highest: angels that evoke God’s glory

     all truth is God’s truth: Intersection of science and faith

literature makes us more human: literature, books, reading, esp. the classics

     a beautiful wild creature with its leg in a trap gnawing it off to be free: tragedy and its importance

     to tote the weary load: Gone with the Wind

     unquiet souls: the Bronte sisters

     russia where are you flying to?: Russian lit, culture, etc. 

     the sparrow: The Sparrow, by Mary Doria Russell

     it’s hard to be the bard: Shakespeare

     leah in attolia: reading the Queen’s Thief series

     intertextuality: What it says on the tin

     a stranger comes to town: Catch-all for storytelling, fairytales, and myth

Beautiful things:

     image-bearers: Humans at their best, doing what we were made to do

     how can i keep from singing: music

     took up God’s house to meet him: churches, cathedrals, and cathedral-builders

     the light! the light!: beautiful light

     to touch the face of God: space, space travel, airplanes, often with a spiritual component

     no one will ever walk the earth so close to you: my sister, siblings in general

     be strong and courageous: be brave

     america is great because america is good: America at its best

Other miscellanea: 

endless forms most beautiful: Science and the natural world, especially biology

     dinosaurs make me happy: all sorts of awesome dino buddies

fossils! dun dun dun: fossils more generally

     in my soul i’m a lady knight: girls with swords 

     i enjoy being a girl: femininity and womanhood

     unto us a child is born: All things Christmas!

     He is risen yippee!: All things Easter

     bear flag republic: California 

     chronic illness is hilarious: all things chronic-illness related, funny and dark and both and so forth

     inklings challenge 2k22: posts related to my involvement in the 2022 Inklings Challenge 

     tay tay: Taylor Swift music

     leah learns calligraphy: My calligraphy work

Organizational: 

     pontifications and creations: Original posts

          Leah stories: My prose writing

          Leah poetry: My poetry

          Leah edits: Edits I’ve made

     ask me hard questions: Asks, tag games, and similar

[joeygoeshollywood]

My 25 Favorite Films of 2020

Well, this was quite the crazy year, especially for movies. While many films that were slated to be released this year were postponed due to the coronavirus pandemic, this year still provided some laughs, tears, and thrills both in theaters and in the living room. 

(NOTE: Due to the delayed awards season calendar and postponed Oscar bait films that are unavailable to be seen before the end of 2020, this list will eventually be updated after having seen the following films: The Father, Minari, News of the World, Nomadland, One Night in Miami, Pieces of a Woman, Promising Young Woman)

Here are my 25 favorite films of the year:

25. Kajillionaire 

Quirky filmmaker Miranda July is back with her first feature in nearly a decade. Kajillionaire is a bizarre but captivating tale about a family of criminal grifters and how the daughter reevaluates her strained relationship with her parents after an outsider is welcomed into the fold. Evan Rachel Wood takes what could have easily been dismissed as a goofy caricature in Old Dolio (yes, that’s her name) and turns into a heartfelt portrayal of a woman whose lifestyle of freeloading dictated by her parents (played by Debra Winger and Richard Jenkins) becomes her own crisis. In many ways, Kajillionaire feels like a fantasy that keeps people asking, “What on earth is going on?” And this time, it’s for the best. 

24. Freaky

Revamping decades-old plots like the body-swapping antics from Freaky Friday can either result in a predictable failure or a surprising success. Thankfully, Freaky falls into the latter category. In this horror comedy, a deranged serial killer (played by Vince Vaughn) swaps bodies with his victim, a timid teen girl (played by Kathryn Newton). What makes the film work though are the dedicated lead performances, particularly by Vaughn, who is pretty convincing as young girl trapped in a grown man’s body. With a few good laughs and decent thrills, Freaky is worth the watch. 

23. The Outpost

The Outpost is an intense film about the real-life story of small group of US troops isolated by surrounding mountains in Afghanistan, under the constant threat of the Taliban, which ultimately comes to a head in the Battle of Kamdesh. The film captures the harrowing experiences of these soldiers with heart-pounding action sequences, which are fueled by a solid cast including Scott Eastwood, Caleb Landry Jones, and Orlando Bloom. 

22. Uncle Frank

Paul Bettany may be best known for playing The Vision in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, but he should be celebrated as his title character in Uncle Frank, a touching dramedy set in 1973 about an NYU professor who returns home to his estranged family for his father’s funeral while his niece, played by rising star Sophia Lillis, idolizes him for teaching her to be her authentic self while he keeps his sexuality a secret. Bettany brilliantly balances the coolness of his stature with the internal agony that ultimately hits a boiling point, which is counterbalanced by Peter Macdissi’s fun performance as Frank’s happy-go-lucky lover who accompanies him back home despite his wishes. 

21. Hillbilly Elegy

Hillbilly Elegy was panned by critics over politics that had absolutely no role the film. Based on the best-selling memoir by J.D. Vance, the newest feature from Ron Howard shows the journey of a boy who despite all odds growing up in a poor family that constantly struggled with abuse and addition managed to get into Yale Law School and achieve the American dream. While both Gabriel Basso and Owen Asztalos hold the film together as the younger and older Vance in the present and flashback scenes, Amy Adams as the impulsive, irresponsible mother and an unrecognizable Glenn Close as the no-nonsense inspiring grandmother that turn Hillbilly Elegy into an acting tour de force. 

20. The Trial of the Chicago 7

Oscar-winning screenwriter Aaron Sorkin sits in the director’s chair once again in this courtroom drama about the real-life protesters who showed up in Chicago during the 1968 Democratic National Convention. With themes that resonate today, The Trial of the Chicago 7 benefits from its sharp screenplay, well-paced editing, and an outstanding ensemble cast that includes Eddie Redmayne, Mark Rylance, Yahoo Abdul-Mateen II, Sacha Baron Cohen, Jeremy Strong, Frank Langella, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, and Michael Keaton. 

19. Yellow Rose

Broadway actress Eva Noblezada makes her film debut as an aspiring country singer on the run after her mother, an illegal immigrant, is obtained for deportation. Yellow Rose presents a nuanced depiction of US immigration, but at the heart of it is a heartbreaking story of a young woman who struggles between putting her family or her dreams first. Between Noblezada’s powerful performance and solid original music, Yellow Rose hits all the right chords. 

18. Palm Springs

Move over, Groundhog Day. While the Bill Murray classic has largely monopolized the time loop film genre, Palm Springs gives it a run for its money. Andy Sandberg and Cristin Milioti star as the unlikely duo who are stranded reliving the same dreaded wedding day involving mutual acquaintances and their desperate efforts to escape the seemingly inescapable. The Hulu comedy stands on its own two feet for the good laughs, the chemistry between the two leads, and the film’s emotionally-grounded plot.  

17. Let Him Go

Kevin Costner and Diane Lane reunite on the big screen after playing farmer parents in Man of Steel to rancher grandparents in Let Him Go, although this time they are able to display their full acting chops. In this period dramatic thriller, they set out to find their only grandchild following the death of their son only to discover that the widowed daughter-in-law remarried into an infamous crime family. While both Costner and Lane tug at the heartstrings, it’s Lesley Manville, who plays the ruthless matriarch of the family, that really takes command of the screen. Ultimately, Let Him Go is all about family and the lengths one is willing to go to protect it. 

16. Unhinged

In a year plagued by the pandemic, Unhinged led the way to the revival of movie theaters back in August and perhaps in some ways it was meant to be the film to do so as the themes of a rage-fueled society and the lack of human connection carry weight. Russell Crowe stars, as the title suggests, as an unhinged psychopath whose road rage torments a woman and her adolescent son. Unhinged is the epitome of pure entertainment and is why we go to the movies. While it’s not quite the most sophisticated thriller of the year, it’s still one helluva ride. 

15. Emma

Anya Taylor-Joy has had quite the year with both highs (The Queen’s Gambit) and lows (The New Mutants). But it began before the pandemic with the release of Emma, which she stars as the iconic Jane Austen title character, a socialite who meddles in the love life of others while refusing to acknowledge her own shortcomings in that department. Supported with a strong ensemble cast, beautiful production design, and comedic charm, Emma is not to be missed. 

14. The Invisible Man

ln the era of remakes and reboots, very few are as good as Universal’s latest monster flick revival of The Invisible Man. Elisabeth Moss stars as a woman who believes she’s being haunted by her abusive ex-husband, someone she becomes convinced faked his own death and is stalking her without being able to be seen. Filmmaker Leigh Whannell, the writer behind the Saw and Insidious horror franchises, generates good thrills and high-wire tension with the help of high production value and a terrifyingly-good performance from Moss. 

13. Dick Johnson is Dead

Documentarian Kirsten Johnson filmed a beautiful, intimate tribute to her father Dick Johnson, who has been suffering from Alzheimer's in the final years of his life. However, instead of dreading his death, both daughter and father embrace it by having him acting out several scenes of his over-the-top demises. Dick Johnson is Dead may focus on the subject manner of death, but this documentary actually celebrates life and the laughs that happen along the way. 

12. The Wolf of Snow Hollow

Perhaps one of the littlest-known films of the year, The Wolf of Snow Hollow is not your conventional indie comedy horror flick. Writer/director Jim Cummings stars as an overly-heated police officer who attempts to get to the bottom of a string of murders in his small, snowy Utah town by what appears to be some sort of werewolf, though he remains unconvinced. Featuring one of the final performances from veteran actor Robert Forster, The Wolf of Snow Hollow uses its quirky sense of humor to stand out from the rest of the pack. 

11. The Gentlemen 

The Gentlemen is a fun, action-packed, crime caper from Guy Ritchie about the London turf war of drug kingpins. Matthew McConaughey, Charlie Hunnam, Henry Goulding, Michelle Dockery, and Colin Ferrell all round out the strong cast, but its Hugh Grant that really steals the show as the comedically manipulative Fletcher, whose only allegiance is to himself. If you like a stylish film with well-choreographed violence and a fast-paced plot, The Gentlemen should be your cup of tea.  

10. Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom

Some of the best play-to-film adaptations are the films that feel like you’re watching a play, and Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom is one of them. Produced by Denzel Washington, Viola Davis gives a transformative performance as Ma Rainey, known as the “mother of the blues” and the clash she had with a pair of White music producers, but she also butts heads with her trumpet player (played by the late Chadwick Boseman), who also has his own music ambitions. While Davis obviously gives other Oscar-worthy performance, it was Boseman who was able to show how incredibly gifted he was as an actor. And while the world lost him far too soon, at least his last role ended up being his greatest. 

9. The Kid Detective

One of the biggest surprises of the year was how good a movie starring and produced by Adam Brody was. Brody plays a washed up former kid detective who attempts to revive his once-celebrated career of solving mysteries by getting to the bottom of a murder in his hometown. The Kid Detective is a brilliant dark comedy from newcomer writer/director Evan Morgan with good laughs, plenty of plot twists, and a career-best performance from Brody, who proves he’s more than just the pretty face from The O.C. we all know him as. 

8. Mank

Citizen Kane is widely regarded as one of the greatest films ever made and Mank is a worthy tribute. Gary Oldman stars as the title character Herman “Mank” Mankiewicz, the Oscar-winning screenwriter behind the iconic film. David Fincher (The Social Network, Gone Girl) managed to capture the epic scale of the 1941 classic that would make Orson Welles proud. 

7. Soul

Soul is one of those rare existential Pixar films that goes beyond being children’s entertainment. Following in the footsteps of 2015′s Inside Out, Soul depicts what happens to the soul of a jazz musician who’s convinced his time on Earth isn’t over. While the universe created to explain how souls work and the plot that went along with it falls short of its emotions predecessor, Soul is still high-caliber among Pixar films and a great movie for both kids and adults alike. 

6. Another Round

Perhaps the greatest work from Swedish director Thomas Vinterberg to date, Another Round follows four unsatisfied middle aged men who decide to take a theory of task from a Norwegian psychiatrist, who concluded that maintaining a blood alcohol level of 0.050 will enhance their mental and psychological state. Mads Mikkelsen, who’s best known to American audiences as Hannibal Lecter in the short-lived NBC series Hannibal and the Bond villain in Casino Royale, offers a strong, nuanced performance as one of the four educators who embraces this drinking challenge in a film that provides an equal balance of chuckles, cringes, and emotional gut punches. 

5. I’m Thinking of Ending Things

From the crazy mastermind of Charlie Kaufman, the writer behind Being John Malkovich, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and Anomalisa, his latest on Netflix is too a mind-bender. I’m Thinking of Ending Things is a surreal, zany, and at times disturbing examination of the human condition as the nameless female protagonist played by an incredible Jessie Buckley mulls over breaking up with her boyfriend (played by Jesse Plemons) while visiting his parents’ house. Accompanied with a stellar production design and a crazy-good performance from Toni Collette as “Mother,” Kaufman newest cerebral feature lives up to his iconic reputation of filmmaking. 

4. Da 5 Bloods

Spike Lee is one of the few genius filmmakers who is able to blend multiple genres together and his latest film is no different. Da 5 Bloods is an action adventure, buddy comedy, dramatic character study, and war movie all wrapped up into one about a group of Vietnam War veterans who return to the former battlegrounds to find the remains of one of their fallen soldiers as well as some treasure that they kept hidden years ago. With a strong ensemble cast that includes the late Chadwick Boseman, its longtime character actor Delroy Lindo who steals the show with his powerful performance. Da 5 Bloods is easily one of Netflix’s strongest films to date. 

3. The Assistant

One of the first #MeToo-era films, The Assistant offers the day in the life of a low-level female staffer of a production company who is haunted by the presence of her Harvey Weinstein-like boss (who never actually appears in the film). However, rather than depicting the dramatics of sexual misconduct, The Assistant uses the common subtleties and nuances of the workplace yet maintains the same tension and heartbreak. Anchored by the remarkable, devastating performance by up-and-comer Julia Garner (Ozark), The Assistant is as important as it is well-done. 

2. Sound of Metal

Riz Ahmed gives the performance of his career as a heavy metal drummer and former addict whose sudden battle with going deaf upends his life. Sound of Metal is an incredible experience that gives a rare glimpse in the American deaf community which is enhanced by the remarkable sound design that helps the audience actually hear what the musician is going through. It’s truly one of the most rewarding films of the year. 

1. The Climb

The Climb takes the generic “man sleeps with his best friend’s fiancé” storyline and turns it on its head. In his feature debut as writer and director, Michael Angelo Covino leads as the not-so-apologetic adulterer Mike and Kyle Marvin, who co-wrote the film, is the good-hearted Kyle who struggles to whether or not to forgive his best friend’s ultimately betrayal. Not only is The Climb is quirky and hilariously written, it’s a remarkably well-made comedy with some of the year’s best cinematography. Between a strong cast, a superb screenplay, and the extremely-high production value, The Climb is at the top of the mountain of 2020′s best films. 

[penwieldingdreamer]

Falling for you

The second installment of my drabble series. Let me know what you think about it. A big thank you again to @fortheloveoffanfic for being my beta 💗 Happy reading everyone

Also here are the songs played at the pub:

Bean Pháidín , Tell me Ma-Gaelic Storm , Galway Girl - Fiddler's Green

Summary: A few weeks later finds the reader in all kinds of embarrassing situations - mostly tripping over stuff or falling over people - right in front of Lee

Warnings: none, besides fluff, clumsiness and a little tinge of jealousy

Words: 2231

Another day on the set of the second installment of the Hobbit series and already you felt like the clumsiest of all people on set. Either you’d slip, trip or let stuff fall to the ground. But it wasn’t random, it only happened whenever you were around Lee or in his close proximity.

James and Martin had made fun of the fact that it would only happen with the tall actor, but you waved them off and of course Benedict chimed into the scheme.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re falling for the King, luv.” he said one time while the four of you had been granted a break from filming. “You make a fool out of yourself because there’s that one person that makes your heart skip a beat.”

Angrily shuffling your food around the plate, you glared at the British actor. “Well thank you for the vote of confidence. If you hadn’t said it I wouldn’t have known I was such a joke on set.”

“What Ben means to say, dear,” James started, putting his hand on your arm. “is, that when you feel something for another person you get clumsy, do crazy things or fall all over yourself because you can’t concentrate around them. All three of us went through that when we met the women we knew would one day be our wives. It has nothing to do with you being bad at your work, the opposite, actually.”

Reluctantly you nodded your head, feeling like you just made a fool out of yourself again in front of those that were your friends. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’ve never been like that before and I fear if this happens more Pete will get tired of me messing up. I don’t want to lose this job.”

“You won’t,” Martin said with so much conviction, you couldn’t help but give him a small, teary smile. “Peter isn’t like that. He values your work as part of the crew and how you bring up new ideas or possible changes. Now if you were to set the whole place on fire that would be another case.”

Ben and James laughed softly and you couldn’t help the giggle escaping your lips when you listened to him. You were very lucky to have friends like them or you’d probably would have resigned after the first incident. “Thank you, you have no idea how much I needed this.” you said sending them a grateful smile. "But now I got to head back to work. The king on his throne is waiting for me."

All three laughed before Martin called after you. "Be careful up there and if you fall, fall in his lap, that's a lot more comfortable than the ground." he joked when you had turned back to the three actors but waved him off with your own middle finger. You knew he had a knack for putting his fingers up for the camera when he shouldn't and you were sure there were some scenes he snuck his middle finger in, just like he always did.

A chorus of laughter followed as you righted your work bag and made your way back to the set with Thranduil's throne.

Orlando stood underneath it, grinning up at Lee dressed up as the Elvenking and waited his turn. "Looking good, dad." he called with a chuckle and you could see the tall actor grin.

"Thank you, son. I feel very good up here." he answered leaning back on the chair, trying to fix his robes and wig as best as he could while a few strands were hanging in the branches of his crown.

Peter saw you emerging from the mass and called you over. "Ah, Y/N, good that you're here. Lee's just had a bit of a stumble up the stairs but we'll be doing a few headshots of him and well, you see the mess."

"Sure, I'll get right on it." you told him, taking a deep breath and steeling yourself so you'd be as relaxed as possible while working on fixing the actor. When he saw you approaching, Lee stood up and made to walk down, but you halted him with a motion of your hand. "Stay, I'm coming up so there's no repeat of that."

He stayed standing, watching you make your way up the stairs. Thank God there were handrails just in case. "If you insist

I could have come down, didn't want you to fall to your doom, dear mortal."

"Charms get you everywhere, huh?" you asked him with a grin as you ascended to the Weta built throne, pointing to the seat so he would sit back down again, keeping his long legs tugged to chair so you could start your work on his hair.

"So far it worked out rather well, I think." He told you, smiling as you gently pulled a strand away from the branch of his crown.

You couldn't help the small smile forming on your face as you listened to his jokes while you freed the last of his hair and righted his crown. A final touch of powder over his nose and you were finished. "Now, you're all done and you're looking regal again." You packed up your bag and turned to descend the stairs when you lost your footing and if it hadn't been for Lee's swift reaction, you would have tumbled down.

Short puffs of breath were leaving your mouth when you held on tightly to his shoulders, his arms circling your waist as you had fallen into his lap with that move. "Hello there." he whispered, watching your shocked face, eyes blown wide with fear. "You okay?"

Biting your lip, you couldn't help but enjoy the feel of his hands on your hip, the warmth spreading through your clothes. "I-I'm sorry, I, the stairs…I guess…missed steps." you brokenly mumbled, apparently having forgotten how to talk when you looked into his blue eyes. The contact lenses only intensified his gaze.

"Yeah, they're dangerous." Lee agreed, his head leaning closer, the rest of the world around you forgotten.

Yet before he could close the gap, Peter interrupted you with a loud whistle. "If you two turtledoves are ready, we'd like to continue." he called out to you with a chuckle. Of course everyone had seen that and you already felt the heat of your blush rising all over your body.

Carefully, yet hastily you scrambled off of Lee's lap and made your way down the stairs and to the back of the set. You would have loved for the ground to swallow you up when Benedict had come over and grinned at you.

"So, I don’t think you will tell me what that up there was.” he said matter of fact, knowing you wouldn’t even be able to describe it.

“Nope,” you said, eyeing the actor and PJ going over the next scenes with a dummy. “I’d rather leave it like it is. This is just too embarrassing."

He put his arm around your shoulders pulling you close. Martin was just walking around the corner having seen the whole thing and he instantly knew you'd be shutting down, only doing your work and nothing more, keeping your distance from Lee. The Brit found the eyes of his friend and co-Sherlock-actor, nodding once, then twice. They were your friends and could see that the sparks between their fellow actor and you were there, now they only needed to kindle the fire.

"Oh, this is wonderful." you gushed, looking around the Irish pub everyone decided to visit at the eve of their day off. "It's been too long since I had so much fun besides being on set."

Already the ciders and beers and whisky were flowing and everyone was laughing and singing with the band that played that night. James had decided to take a row of tables next to the musicians so the cast and crew that wanted to go there would fit into the seats.

"You all deserve a time off after the amazing work you did." Peter said, raising his pint of Guinness for a toast. You all followed suit, calling out a shout of "Hear, hear."

Laughing and listening to all the stories everyone was telling about their time on set, you enjoyed the feeling of warmth that spread through you. Not because of the alcohol but because of your family away from home.

"Are you enjoying the music?" James asked after a short while, himself listening to the tunes and words from his home country.

Nodding your head, you clapped your hands to the rhythm and smiled as a few people started to dance to the songs you couldn't understand the lyrics to. “What is she singing about?” you asked him, leaning in so he could understand the words with the louder music.

"It’s a really old Irish song, dating back hundreds of years in Ireland. This is one of the funny old Irish songs that is sung by a woman, and she sings about another woman." the Irish actor tried to explain over the loud music. "Back in the day women would get together and sing this song about the woman in town that was married to the man that they all wanted to be married to. ‘It’s a pity that I’m not Phaidin’s wife,’ and this woman who’s married to him, they hate her, and as the verses go on, they talk about what they’d like to do to her, like they want to break her legs and get rid of her and do anything to be this man’s wife. It’s a fun song. Irish music is like that. When you translate the words, sometimes it’s like gruesome and dark, but they’re meant in a lighthearted way."

You were always blown away by the way such a story could be shown in a nice tune. "The music is so lively, you'd never guess it's such a sad and dark story behind it."

"That's just the way the Irish are." James grinned at you before another song was starting.

"For our next song we'd love for you guys to get up, dance some more and just have fun." the female singer announced and waved to all patrons in the pub. The violin, banjo and drum began to play the first chords before the singer joined in. "Tell me ma when I go home, the boys won't leave the girls alone."

Benedict and James smiled at you, holding their hand out and pulled you from your seat and onto the provided dance floor where others had already started twirling around. "Let's dance and have some fun." the Brit said, giving you a twirl.

You couldn't help the smile that found its way on your lips as you danced around with the two actors, unbeknownst of the dark blue eyes following your moves. The dance was exhilarating and both James and Ben led you through the steps, jumping and twirling with other patrons until you were out of breath and another song was over.

When you came back to get something to drink you saw one of the seats being vacant. Lee was missing from the group of merry friends and you leaned over to Orlando, who had been sitting besides him. "Where did your dad disappear to?" you asked him, mirth coloring your words as you took a large sip of your drink.

He turned to you and smiled, patting the seat next to him, so you didn't have to stand. You were grateful for that with your feet aching from all the dancing you did with his fellow actors. "He said he needed to get back to the hotel, his flight back to the States is taking off early." Orlando said and your face must have shown your confusion as you didn't know Lee was needed back in America. "Shooting for Guardians of the Galaxy is starting in a few days and he wanted to get back earlier so he arranged it in the last few days. Peter knew about it, I'm surprised he didn't tell you."

"Oh, no, I really didn't know and Lee hadn't mentioned anything before." the disappointment colored your words and you sank back down in your seat. You couldn't help the feeling that it was something that recently happened and especially something you did or he would have been open enough to talk to you.

The British actor patted your leg and grinned. "Don't worry, he'll be back before you know it. Once he's done with that movie Lee's going to annoy us again with his dad jokes."

Nodding your head, you tried to feel confident, but still you didn't know why he didn't at least wait until you were back at the table to say his goodbyes. No he just left without so much as a word. Of course you were only there doing his make - up and hair but you had hoped that in the time you worked together you at least had become friends. Giving the dark haired actor a small smile you made your way back to your corner seat, staring off into space and trying not to get too drunk on your cider while thinking about why not even Peter had bothered to tell you his Elvenking was leaving the set sooner than planned.

Taglist:

@fortheloveoffanfic @toomanystoriessolittletime @omgkatinka @fuck-yeah-hope @wholelottatiffy @axshadows ​@a-really-bi-girl @madbaddic7ed @maggiemoo1892 @pinkzsugar @agniavateira @mary-ann84 and everyone else who wants to read this.

[wonder-womans-ex]

Make a Promise

“Sirius,” Remus says, rolling onto his side to face the man beside him, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Shoot.” Sirius’s eyes stay focused on the ceiling above, but he smiles warmly. 

“Do you—well, you probably don’t remember, but when we lived together, before, in the flat with the piss-yellow walls and the floors that squeaked and the stove that never worked, I had a shoebox. Under the bed. And I never let you look in it.”

Sirius is quiet for a moment, then, “I remember.”

There were three things is the box. And I didn’t want you to see any of them, all for different reasons.”

“Why do I have the feeling you’re about to tell me what they were?” He’s teasing, but his eyes go soft when Remus replies, “Because you know me better than anyone.”

“The first thing,” continues Remus, “The one that took up the most space, was my registry papers. Documents of where I spent every full moon, what classification of werewolf I am, whether I’ve attacked anyone—that sort of thing. 

“Then there was a photo from first year. The one Peter took of James, you, and me after our first detention.” Sirius clenches his jaw, and Remus knows he’s thinking of their old friend. “For years, I thought I’d lost it, but then I was cleaning out the attic after my mum died, and there it was. And I kept it. Because in that photo, you’re looking at me like you looked at me after fifth year; like you look at me now. It just... amazes me, I guess, because we were eleven and we’d barely known each other a month, and already there was something there. I used to take it out, sometimes, when you were gone, and remind myself that what we had was real. It was... it was the only photo of you I didn’t burn.”

The silence envelopes them, heavy and painful, until Remus swipes a hand over his eyes. “Oh, fuck, I’m crying.”

“‘S’okay,” Sirius says, “so am I.”

“You know I love you, right? More than anything?”

“I know. I love you, too. Always and forever.”

Somewhere along the way, their fingers have twined together. Sirius, after giving Remus’s hand a reassuring squeeze, asks, “And the third thing?”

“The third thing in the box?” 

“Yeah.”

“A box.”

“A box. Inside a box.”

“That’s right.”

“How exciting.”

Remus rolls his eyes. “Shut up. What matters is what was inside the box.”

“What was inside the box inside the box?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“I try.”

“Do you want to know what was inside the box or don’t you?”

“Please, do tell.” The grin on Sirius’s face still does embarrassing things to Remus’s heart, even after all these years. “How about I show you, instead?” he says. 

Sirius nods. 

As he leans over to grab his wand from the bedside table, Remus takes a breath. No going back now. He performs a wandless summoning charm, looking anywhere but at Sirius. 

“So.” He snatches the box out of the air as it flies towards him. “I bought this our last Hogsmeade weekend of seventh year. And I meant to give it to you right after graduation, and then again when we bought the flat, and again when I found out James was planning on proposing to Lily, but things kept coming up and I kept putting it off, and eventually it was too late. So I’m giving it to you now.”

He stops. His lower lip is trembling. “Hold out your hands and close your eyes.”

Slowly, Remus presses the box into Sirius’s outstretched hands. “You can open your eyes now.”

Sirius does, eyelids fluttering, and his eyes fix onto what he’s now holding. He inhales so sharply it’s almost a gasp. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Probably.” Remus waits to see if Sirius is going to say something else. He doesn’t, so Remus goes on. 

“Padfoot,” he says, voice barely above a whisper, “you have known me since before I really knew myself. You taught me I matter; I deserve to be loved. You were the first person to find out what I was—what I am—and think no differently because of it. I have tried time and time again to find where I belong, and I never find that the answer is anywhere but with you.

“You are my world, Sirius Black, and it it because of you that I have the confidence to say I am yours. So I ask you, in the house of your awful parents who are probably rolling over in their graves right now... will you marry me?”

Sirius nods, the tears in his eyes spilling over. “Yes. Abso-fucking-lutely yes.”

And now they’re both crying, and they’re kissing each other on the cheek, the forehead, the mouth. Neither of them has ever been happier. 

Finally, Remus pulls back, prying Sirius’s fingers back from around the box, “Aren’t you going to look inside?”

For reasons he can’t quite explain, Sirius hold his breath a he opens the lid, deep red velvet contrasting starkly against thin, pale fingers. A smile spreads across his face. 

The ring inside glints gold; the four tiny rubies set in the band catch the early morning light. “It’s beautiful,” breathes Sirius, grin lopsided where his lip is between his teeth. “Can you...?”

It takes Remus a moment to realize what his boyfriend—fiancee, he corrects himself with a surge of joy—means. “Yeah,” he manages, taking Sirius’s left hand in both of his own and sliding the ring carefully onto the fourth finger. They stay there, palm to palm, for a long time, trading sweet nothings and gentle, chaste kisses. 

“I’ve been imagining how you’d look wearing that ring for nearly seventeen years,” Remus is saying when there’s a sharp knock on the door.

“Breakfast!” Both men look up when Molly’s shout rings down the hallway, neither speaking until she’s moved on to the next door. 

“Our first meal as engaged wizards,” Remus says, pulling Sirius to his feet. “C’mon.”

They wait, giggling and smiling at each other, until they’re sure everyone else has gone down, and then they race to to stars, still holding hands. They slide down the banisters, too; it’s like they’re sixteen all over again. 

At the first landing, Remus stops to push Sirius against the wall. “We’re getting married,” he murmurs into the kiss, and he feels Sirius smile against his lips. 

At the second landing, Sirius brings Remus’s hand to his face, pressing his mouth to each knuckle. 

They don’t stop on the third landing, but they do on the stair after it. Sirius almost falls over as he turns, one foot catching himself on the step below. 

“Can I take your last name?” His eyes are shining. 

Remus says, solemnly, “It would be my honour,” and they laugh again. 

The dining room does not go quiet when they enter. They make no grand enterance. Everyone else continues with their noise and clutter until Harry looks up from his game of chess; he nudges Ron, sitting opposite him, and both boys wave. 

Sirius glances sideways, catching Remus’s eyes. He raises an eyebrow.

Harry grins when Sirius sits down next to him. “Morning,” he yawns. “Ron’s checked my queen.”

“Good for him.”

Ron opens his mouth to say something, but Sirius never finds out what. With a flick of her wand, Molly has set out the silverware—it’s stainless steel, technically, so it doesn’t hurt Remus—and the plates, steaming with porridge. 

“Go on, eat,” she urges loudly, pouring out a cup of tea. “Don’t let it get cold.”

There’s a flurry of movement as everyone claims their place at the table. Remus ends up between Arthur Weasley and Sirius; he has to keep his elbows tucked in so as not to knock over anyone’s morning coffee. Across from him, Tonks is putting her metamorphagus skills to use, her Dumbledore imitation in particular sending Ginny into fits of laughter. 

He nearly burns his tongue on the first bite of porridge. Through the pain in his taste buds, he notices it’s quite good, and makes a mental note to compliment Mrs. Weasley on the recipe. Anyone who can make oats and water taste good, he reasons, is worthy of whatever praise falls their way. 

To his right, Sirius takes a thoughtful sip of his tea. They catch each other’s eyes and smile. 

Glancing around, Sirius sees that everyone is once more engrossed in conversation. Fred Weasley in particular is gesticulating wildly with his spoon, and Sirius has to duck to avoid a flying bit of porridge. Absentmindedly, he twists the ring on his finger around, rubbing his thumb over the four jewels. 

His chair almost topples over when he leans back in it, grabbing an antique crystal goblet from the shelf behind him. He takes the sugar tongs from the table, too, and then he stands up. 

Even with the ding ding ding of silver on crystal, it takes almost ten seconds for just one person—aside from Remus, of course—to look up. Hermione holds his gaze for a moment before leaning over and whispering something in Ginny’s ear. By the time he’s got everyone’s attention, he’s begun to contemplate sitting back down again. 

But, finally, there’s silence, and all twelve pairs of eyes in the room (minus his own, obviously) are on him. 

Sirius clears his throat. He resists the urge to climb on top of his chair, because a broken neck would not be a good start to his engagement. 

“Good morning!” he announces. “I, uh, I have news. Good news.”

Dear lord, he used to be a lot better at this. From somewhere down the table, there’s a mutter of, “Well, get on with it, then.”

Skipping the rest of the preamble, he allows his face to split into a smile. “We’re getting married.”

There is none of the happy amazement he expected. He receives no applause. What he does receive are slow blinks and confusion written on every face except his own and Remus’s. It’s Molly who eventually says something, and what she says is, “Congratulations! If you don’t mind me asking... who’s the lucky lady?”

Now it’s Sirius’s turn to be confused. “You mean... you didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Bloody hell.” He isn’t sure whether he should laugh or cry. “I thought we made it obvious enough.”

“Well, clearly you didn’t!”

“How much do we need to broadcast it for you to see what’s right in front of you? How often should we hold hands at mealtimes? During Order meetings? Do you want us to take down the silencing charms on the bedroom, too, so you can hear everything we say, everything we—mmph.”

Sirius is cut off when Remus stands up, grabs the back of his head, and smashes their lips together. Between all those times back at Hogwarts, and now this, it seems it truly has become a trend—Remus shutting him up by sticking his tongue in Sirius’s mouth, that is. 

They break apart far too soon for Remus’s liking, but they do have an audience, after all. He can imagine without looking the expression on Molly’s face, and his imagination is proved correct when he turns away, sliding his fingers down Sirius’s arm to clasp their hands together. “That should answer your question,” he says before anyone has the chance to pick their jaw up off the floor. 

It’s been silent for a while—or, at least, it feels that way; the grandfather clock by the opposite wall shows only thirty seconds have passed—when Sirius realizes they’re still standing. “Excuse us,” he says, and pulls Remus out of the room. 

Out in the hallway, they stare at each other for a few moments before bursting out in laughter. “Oh my god, Remus,” Sirius wheezes. “Oh my god. That was fucking incredible.”

Remus covers his eyes with one hand. “It was spur of the moment, okay? Bloody hell, that was—”

“Unbelievably attractive? Absolutely iconic?”

“So embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing for you, maybe. But that right there? That’s why I love you.”

“What, not my dazzling personality?” 

Sirius grins, leaning in. “Well, yeah, that too. And your gorgeous golden eyes, and your genius mind, and you smile that always makes me melt inside, and—”

“Okay!” yelps Remus, because he knows Sirius too well. “I get the idea!” His gaze is soft, though, and when Sirius reaches up to cup his cheek in one palm, he leans into the touch. 

Eventually, someone—Tonks, or Harry, or one of the Weasleys—will come to find them, demanding explanation. But for now?

It’s just them. 

And despite everything—despite who they’ve lost and what they’ve been through—they have each other. 

[internalsealpanic]

Love Through the Ages (Jason Todd)

Summary:  Love like baggage needs to be declared.

a/n: This is part three of a series that is a fic rec list disguised as a fic. For these fics, most of the characters will be speaking different languages, so unless specified otherwise assume that the characters are speaking in the first language I mention. They’re all vampires with centuries under their belt. Why wouldn’t I make them all polyglots.  Also, thank you to the proof reading gang for putting up with my shenanigans.  I will have links to the fics I recommend in the fic itself. ALSO, y'all can thank @littleredwing89 for the poem that comes up.

Warnings: Everyone is dramatic.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist.

You tap at your phone screen, planting seeds in a satisfyingly hypnotic rhythm, the sounds of the train vacillating in and out of your periphery. It was soothing having your own compartment, a little world you can isolate yourself in while you anxiously await for the inevitable. 

It wasn’t a secret that you found Gotham stressful. It was about as much a secret as Tony Stark’s civilian identity. You pulled your knees up to your chest at the thought. Big cities were stressful but Gotham was a different beast entirely. It was a writhing monster of steel and smoke. You wrinkle your nose deciding to sweep the thought away. 

Instead, you concentrate on your plants and your farm. You wince looking at your journal. It looks like you’d forgotten another quest. Pursing your lips, you decide to turn your phone off for a bit and pretend the NPCs can sort it out on their own as you look out the window. 

You lean against the wall, pressing your cheek to the cool window. You can’t help but smile to yourself thinking of a sea of black curly hair interrupted by a shock of white, sea green eye perpetually alight with mischief or intelligence (9 times out of 10, you really couldn’t tell which it was.), freckles like star map, and a mouth permanently set in a cocky grin. It’s hard not to smile like an idiot when thinking of Jason Todd.  

   Your skirt flutters in the wind as you dance your way through the crowd, bobbing up and down on your tiptoes over the sea of humans. Sometimes the smell of them still makes your mouth water but not now, not when the smell of Gotham is so pungent in the air. 

You see a gloved hand wave at you on the other side of the crowd. You pin your sunhat against your head as you rush through the crowd, your luggage dragging behind you.

Jason waves a two fingered salute at  you in front of a motorcycle, his foot clearly stomping a cigarette. You toss your hat to him. It flutters over the crowd. Jason catches it easily, putting it on his own head. 

"Hey Princess, welcome back." Jason greets, the syllables of your native French gliding off of his tongue so easily. Fighting down a blush, you swallow your own greeting. Jason would have been a great ambassador in a different life were he not inclined to murder someone with a desert spoon for being a jackass.

He offers his hat back to you, but you shake your head. "You might freckle too much in Gotham's sunny weather." He gives you a hearty chuckle keeping the hat on. 

"Missed you too, princess."

You roll your eyes. Pinching your nose, you look around. "You forgot to tell me to bring a gas mask."

"Every city smells like this."

"Darling, you've been in Gotham for too long."

"And you've been in your French villa for too long." Jason says, putting his sunglasses on you. You glare at him through them.

"First of all, it's a cottage."

Jason snorts, "As if that makes a difference. It's still in the idyllic French countryside, isn't it?"

"I-" 

"I rest my case."

You cross your arms. "You're welcome to visit, you know?" It was a hopeful suggestion at best. 

"We both know the quiet will drive me crazy."

"I said visit," you say, "besides, I think the train ride alone would drive you up the wall." You remember how Jason is with tight spaces.

"Not with you there." Jason winks.

Your heart presses a bruise into your throat and you hate Jason Peter Todd all over again. 

"Ah yes, you plan on driving me mad. Evil. Truly evil of you." You say, grinning back at him. 

"Here's a wild idea, how bout we just not listen to Roy? How does that sound?" Jason gently suggests, handing you your offensively pink cup of caffeinated goop. Jason can smell the sickening amount of sweeteners added. He might gag. 

"Nope," you say, smiling at him as you slurp your ooze. Jason's stomach rolls. Alfred would have an aneurysm. "He was even nice enough to get us both tickets." You hand him one, fingers brushing against his. They felt calloused as they always did. Jason suppresses any oncoming reaction.

He instead turns his attention to the ticket in his hands. Love Through the Ages: Gotham Museum Exhibition on expressions of love. Jason runs through the numbers. "These are $59 each."

"So sweet of him, isn't it?" You chirp adorably.

Jason makes a mental note to kill both of you. "You're only going along with this cus you want to watch me suffer." Jason says, slumping his chair. His foot kicks out to tap your foot. 

"I'm doing it affectionately," you say, tapping his foot with yours. "Besides, it's a universal pass time at this point." You swirl your drink and grin at him. It was your real grin, all bright and eager and stupidly sweet. Something in Jason's chest twists. It's always hard to breathe when you smile at him but really Jason would rather all the oxygen in the atmosphere be burned up than see your smile disappear. 

He sounds dramatic and he knows that but still he knows it's true.

"C'mon Jay, it'll be fun."

Shoulders slouched, Jason smiles at you indulgently. "Fun for who?"

"Mainly me but you can have fun too."

"You are so lucky you're adorable when you're being evil."

Your smile brightens and with a tap of his foot against yours, he thinks he'll survive whatever Roy has in store for him.

You and Jason have been walking around the museum for quite a bit with Jason's arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders and homicide radiating off of him every time someone even looks at you funny. He'd said that the arm slung around your shoulder was so that you wouldn't get lost. As for the homicide,  he elected to ignore the question entirely. 

You flush as Jason quotes another line from 'Master Valentine' back to you. You definitely regret letting him house sit. You regret even more not hiding your books. You squirm as Jason whispers the quote in your ear in a husky drawl. The erotica in the book is amazing and you're normally comfortable with talking to Jason about everything, but this- this was just cruel and unusual punishment. It's what you get for trying to make him suffer.

All the pet names he murmured in your ear crawled up your spine. You shove his face away hiding your own in your sleeve. He laughs into your hand enjoying your sudden bout of shyness.

Jason mumbles a half-hearted apology into your hand, pressing a soft kiss into your palm. You lower your head. You're still clearly avoiding his gaze but you let him press you to his side. Jason Todd is an asshole.

You point to a pair of ice skates so well worn and well loved that you almost miss the little penguins stitched on the side. "Love on the ice? That's so cute!"

Jason glances at them with mild interest. "Sounds like hypothermia." He says, shrugging. 

Swatting at his chest, you pout at him. He rolls his eyes nudging your shoulder with his. You scowl at him and stick your tongue out. Jason leans down, unable to stop the urge to press a kiss to your brow. You scowl even harder. 

"Admit it, doll. The whole exhibition is just Dickie's favorite fanfiction tropes."

"Professor Todd, be a dear and enlighten my troglodyte ass."

He snorts, "Princess, if I was a professor we both know I'd have the highest attendance rate."

"And the highest failure rate." You say cocking a brow. 

"Probably."

"You're terribly humble today."

"I just know I look good."

No, you don't, you think. You shake your head. "That explains the leather jacket."

"You love my leather jacket."

"Well, Biscuit certainly loved your previous one."

Jason wrinkled his nose thinking of the yellow disaster. "That dog was a menace."

"She is the sweetest creature on earth."

"She destroyed my jacket and ate my wallet AND phone."

"I never said she was smart... wait, we're getting off topic."

Jason narrows his eyes at you then points to a crown. It was an intricate lattice of silvers and golds with diamonds that glittered like starlight. "Royal AU," he says simply, "go on read the description."

"A prince and a princess from rival nations are bound by a marriage of convenience. Through a series of missteps. They fell for each other.... that one was pretty easy. Do it again."

He points to a blue feather. "Mythology AU."

You arch a brow at him. He waves at it, urging you to read. "A god descended to earth to be with his mortal lover only for him to lose his memories of her." The feather's glow is incandescent. You can feel the power radiating off of it, a sure sign of divinity.

Once, you would have brushed it off as mere story. You've spent more than twice your lifetime now dipped into the world of myths. You glance at Jason.  Simple divinity no longer fazes you.

"See?"

"I- Nope."

"You're just being stubborn."

"Would you have been my friend if I wasn't?" Would you have saved me if I wasn't?

You think Jason hears your unspoken question when he frowns. Instead, he turns on his heel to face the other direction. He points to a bouquet of wilted roses tied together by a green ribbon. They still smell of blood and something you couldn't identify.  Your eyes drift down curious. Your eyes trace over the words feeling your stomach tumble.

"Gruesome." Jason vocalizes inanely. He hooks his head on the crown of your head, neatly slotting your body under his. You're safe, surrounded by walls of muscle. The crease in your brow softens. You would think that Jason would be less protective after you'd turned but now that you were a vampire, he was somehow even more protective. Roy always joked you only got Biscuit and your other dogs as lap dogs because you already had Jason. He may not have been too off on his guess.

"This should be in a horror exhibit," you say leaning into Jason's chest, "kind of reminds me of you though." You tilt your head up grinning at him. 

"If you make a joke about me being jack the ripper again, I swear I'll-"

"-Bury me alive 6 feet under concrete with a recording of Roy singing Auld Lang Syne in a terrible British accent. Got it. What I meant was... you're just as protective as the man in the story." You say, smiling at him. 

For good reason, Jason thinks. 

Jason buries half of his face in your hair, hiding his answering smile. You smell like sugar and cinnamon. It's a familiar combination of smells that puts him at ease despite the atrocious amount of people in the museum.

You point to another artifact, afraid that you'd accidentally picked at an old wound. 

"Star-crossed lovers." He mumbles into your hair. 

"Bullshit!"

"Read it and weep, doll."

You read the plaque and the words 'meet' and 'different world' assault your eyes. You scowl at him. "Fuck you."

The grin on Jason's face is genuine. It makes something in your veins sing knowing how much fun he's having. 

Your face softens. "You really love this romance stuff, huh?"

Jason narrows his eyes at you.

"You were the one bawling your eyes out when we binged Spaces Between Us. Who the hell cries during erotica?"

"IT'S TRUE LOVE AND YOU KNOW IT IN YOUR SOUL," you protest, pounding your fist against his chest,"besides, you're the one who was crying nonstop when we watched the IDHY duology."

"I was crying because they were accurate book adaptations."

You blink at him confused. "There's a book?"

"Yes, you illiterate heathen."

"You sound like a conquistador."

“....”

"At least they got their happy ending." You say, changing the subject.  

"That's true."

"Still better than Titanic."

He furrows his brow at you. "What's wrong with the Titanic?"

"First of all," You pitch your shoulders like you're about to give him a lecture, "That was 3 hours of my life wasted on a shitty movie. It wasn't even that accurate."

"Princess, not everyone can survive the Arctic."

"And second, the most romantic scene in that romantic movie was the old couple staying together as they sank."

Jason laughs, a deep rumbling sound. It scrambles your brain, almost dissolving your annoyance until he opens his mouth again. "You sound like Damian."

"Jason Peter Todd, take that back." You screech, swiping at him. 

He jumps back, his laughter still echoing. "Stop sounding like the demon brat first."

You run after him, telegraphing your murderous intent. Jason walks away faster, sticking his tongue out at you. Your growl and claw at the air. You screech obscenities as Jason continues to evade you. He is having way too much fun with this. 

You chase Jason around the exhibition for a solid half hour before you come to a skittering halt.

Your eyes land on a vermillion book, leather bound and carefully crafted by skilled hands. You step closer to admire the swirling, arabesque patterns lining the leather. No title is embossed on the front.  It's thick. You would wager it was at least 400 pages.

Your eyes drift down even further, finding a  familiar scrawl. Below the book were photocopies of some of the pages. Pablo Neruda's 'If You Forget me', Beethoven's 'Immortal beloved', Ibn Hazm's 'My Heart', and a bunch of other poets you didn't know but recognized as ...

"Jason these are your favorites."

"What?" He says, walking over to you cautiously.

You look back down at the pages and your eyes catch on the one in the middle. From the numbering, it was the last.

Love is such a hard thing to define,

I don’t know if I could ever find,

The words to truly express the complexity of such an emotion.

It is an emotion felt in the heart,

Long before it makes sense to the mind,

illusive and uncertain until suddenly it just clicks.

Like so many things in this world,

we tend to know it when we see it in others,

even if we can’t be sure of it ourselves.

I think I’ve always known how much I love you,

When I look at you, 

I see everything I’ve ever wanted.

When I look at you,

I see nothing else but your perfect beauty.

Inside and out.

I'm not a poet, (Y/n), but I will tell you anyway I can how much I love you.

-Jason Peter Todd

Jason is a stone next to you.

His mouth is filled with sand as he looks at the far too familiar handwriting. He knew. He knew the moment he saw the red book what it was. Hell, the moment you told Jason it was Roy who told you to go to the museum, he knew what it was. God, why can't he just turn to ash. 

Jason can't make himself turn to you. He can't bear to see what ever disgusted expression you make. He just can't. 

He feels a tug on his sleeve. He doesn't move. He  feels another tug, this time harder. When he doesn't respond the second time, you lace your fingers in his and spin him around. 

You squish his cheeks in your hands. "Jason, you actual sap." You say. You look like you're glowing. You beam at him, all toothy and scrunched faced. Jason's lungs stop working again. His mind can't process what you're saying. All Jason knows is that something warm is crowding his chest, pushing everything else out.

"Wha?"

"Jason, you absolute dork!" You repeat, unfazed by his temporary bout of insanity.

Jason is blushing, looking like a strawberry with his freckles. Jason is more adorable than anyone has any right to be. But that's ok. That's perfectly ok cus he's yours.

In a moment of uncontained affection, you pull Jason to you, pressing a kiss against his lips. It's soft and earnest and exciting. It was a kiss Jason spent lifetimes dreaming about. It was you and completely you.

"Jay, they're beautiful." You say in a breathless laugh. 

Jason looked down at his feet. "I-" was never planning on giving it to you, he thinks. Because, why would you ever love someone like Jason? Especially, after what he'd done to you. 

As if reading his mind, you press your forehead against his. "I love you too, Jay, and you can't argue me out of it. Sorry bud, you're stuck with me."

Jason can't help the smile as it curls on his lips.

He's happy. He's so stupidly happy and he blames you.

"Plus, I already knew."

"Why didn't you say it first?" He asks, his fingers brushing against his tingling lips. 

"Cus," you say, pirouetting away from him, "you wouldn't believe me if I did."

"How-"

You put your hand up. "Trust me, Jay. I've tried before." You tilt your head back looking up at the sky light. The curtain of light fell on you like a spotlight highlighting everything ethereal about you. "Remember in Milan? When I told you I cared about you and you told me I didn't."

Jason remembered that. He was angrier back then. He snarled that to you like some wild animal and threatened to throw you out on your ass if you ever so much as spoke a word of that nonsense again. It was the first time he'd seen you look hurt. You face was wide open with shock.  Jason felt something in his chest tear at that look. He stormed off, leaving you in that room. 

When he came back, you offered him warm tea and a smile. You were quiet, inconsolably quiet.

It didn't…

He didn't…

It didn't occur to him that look in your eyes was heartbreak.

Jason curses under his breath.

You chortle at him, the mirth in your eyes incandescent.

"Yeah. Exactly." You say, clasping your hands behind your back. Jason would like to be buried six feet under with the only words carved into his gravestone 'I am so sorry (Y/n)'.

You snick seeing the look in his eyes. "Or that time in Paris. The one in the little patisserie when I told you in perfect Catalan that you meant more to me than anything else and do you remember what you told me?"

"I told you you were possessed." Jason's shoulders slump. "Please tell me you don't have a third example."

You smile at him pityingly. "I don't-"

"OH THANK FU-"

"I have 50. Well, 51 but the last one didn't count since I was joking that time."

In Jason's mind, his jaw hits the obsidian floor with an audible 'plop'. It would be loud enough that the entire museum would hear it were it real. He blinks at you. "You tried more than 10 times?"

"I was encouraged." You say shrugging.

"Of course, you were," he grumbles and you laugh. Jason's heart skips a beat but he pushes past the feeling in favor of pleading with you. "Please don't list them."

"Oh, I'm not." You hum. 

Jason sighs with relief. 

"I'm gonna leave that to Roy."

"Son of a- He knows?"

You look over your shoulder. "Yeah. Who do you think I complain to?"

"Who else knows?" He asks, trailing behind you as you walk to .... Jason doesn't know at this point and he doubts you do too. 

"Oh just your family."

"I'm surprised they haven't given me shit about it."

"Oh I bullied them into not doing it."

"Impressive." He whistles and you preen. 

"Always," you say smugly. You begin to walk a bit faster, craning your neck. "Now, let's go find out if Dickie installed that bakery I asked for." 

"That's what you're after?" Jason laughs.

"It's a noble goal." You protest. 

"You don't even need to feed."

"I need to feed my inner sweets monster. She's very fussy and is demanding crepes specifically."

Jason smiles softly at you, amused that of all the human traits you could have retained after being turned was a sweet tooth.

"Sorry to tell you doll face, Dickie still hasn't done it."

You look aghast like he'd slapped you in the face with a large baguette. 

"What?!"

"He hasn't put in your suggestion from 10 years ago."

"Where am I supposed to get my fix?"

"Are we still talking about sweets or have you moved on to cocaine?"

"Dunno, have you tried snorting sugar?"

"No. Why- Have you?"

"...my lawyer advised against answering this question."

Jason cackles. "How am I the stupid one?"

"I-" Your scowl turns sickeningly sweet. "Yanno, the third time I tried was when-"

"OK. Stop." Jason's face lights up again. "I give." 

"Pfff." You smile, looking far too pleased with yourself.

Jason straightens up, something sly passing through his eyes. You stop. The look in his eyes makes you nervous. 

"I think I know where you can get something sweet."

You swallow nervously.

Jason leans in. He’s so close to you. You can feel his breath brush against your lips. Nothing else around you seems to exist at the moment. 

You lean in to kiss him but you freeze when you register his voice. 

“I’m taking you downtown. There’s a new bakery there and I heard the crepes were to die for.” He chuckles, turning to walk towards the exit. 

“What the hell?!” You call out falling into step with him. 

He grins down at you, arms folded behind his head. “Something wrong, princess?”

Heat rises in your cheeks and elbow him in the side. 

“I want to take you on a proper date and I sure as hell am not starting here.” He says, rubbing his side and conspicuously not looking at you.  There’s a dust of peach on his face. Your anger fades away. It gives way to a fluttering in your chest. 

“Where?”

He looks at you then, brow furrowed. 

“Why don’t I take you to the fair, princess? There’s plenty of sweet treats there that’ll tickle your fancy.”

Your mouth waters when you think about all the cotton candy they have. 

“I heard there’s a kissing booth too, so if you’re lucky,” Jason continues, winking at you. Predictably, you blanch at him. You knock your knuckles against his chest. Jason chuckles, rubbing his chest. “Sorry princess, I mean if I’m lucky enough to get a kiss from you.”

The temerity. 

The gall. 

“As long as you get me something sweet.” You huff, exiting the building. 

Jason stops on the steps, turning to you with a sly smile. Crossing your arms, you pause bracing for whatever trick is up his sleeve. Jason tilts his head. He says something but the little noises of the city make the words hard to discern. You lean closer to hear him better. Jason steps closer to close the distance, his lips warm against yours. You’re stunned. Your entire body divided on how to react, some parts stiffen while others turn to jelly. 

He pulls away, wolfish grin unwavering. "That sweet enough for you sweetheart?"

@batarella​, @anothertimdrakestan​, @lucy-roo​, @multifandomgirl-us​, @bungunz​, @birdy-bat-writes​,  @boosyboo9206​, @americasmarauders​ , @l-inkage​, @arestorationofbalance​ , @cloudie-skay​, @wunderstell​   @hyp-oh-critical​ @glorified-red​

[dalishthunder]

Imagine....dualscar being tense and grumpy from a nights work on the ship...sitting down in his chair and reader comes out behind him to start rubbing at his shoulders....he has appearances to keep and doesn't like loosening his posture much but it's so hard not to melt under those warm hands

I actually wrote something that went down like that.... let me find it for you. It's between a servant reader and dualscar.... if that is your cup of tea (I'll put it under the cut in case it's not).

But just the thought of him melting..........

“Would you like me to go…?” You asked him, hoping beyond hope that he would say yes. It had been a while since you’d gotten a good sleep in. His first mate always had a task for you to do. Always. Without fail, something else. But if you slipped out now, maybe you could sneak back to your hammock before the sun rose.

He didn’t even turn his head to look at you as he spoke into his pillow.“I need your tiny little hands, there’s a knot in my shoulders. Work it out.” He unclasped his cloak and tossed it to the ground. Lovely.

You sighed, standing up and walking over to the bed. His armor was still on of course, but you weren’t going to mention that, no need to doff that if you didn’t need to. You just wanted this over as soon as possible… and with any luck he’d fall straight to sleep. You really, really hoped he was sleepy drunk.

Your fingers began to rub little circles at first at the top of the shoulders first.

“Harder.”

You applied more pressure.

“No. No, angles off. You should know by now how I like it.” He snipped, voice muffled by his pillow.

You ground your teeth, but hopped up onto the bed and straddled his back, kneading the base of his shoulder blades. He allowed it for a few minutes before speaking again.

“You’re going to have to take off the armor, sweetheart. I can barely feel you.”

“Of course.”

“’Of course’ what?”

“Of course, sir.” Your nostrils flared as you found the buckles on the side, working the stiff leather until it finally came loose. He shifted so you could slide it off of him leaving him only in a lavender silk chemise and pants.

Your palms pressed firmly into his back and you dragged up, eliciting a deep moan from the man below you.

“That’s the ticket.” The troll hissed, arching his back into your touch. You worked your fingers into his muscles, another shameless moan escaping his lips. “Just like that.”

Dualscar The Orphaner, Feeder of the Deep One wasn’t usually so… vocal.

“Mindfang is just so infuriating.”He moped. “That’s the third trade ship this sweep that she’s raided… the third fuckin’ one! That ship had off-world product on it! Four hundred and thirteen kilos of Timoorian steel just gone. She’s probably selling it off to the rebellion for a killing. It'd be endearing were she not such a piss poor kismesis…. She does this all the time. Wind me up with enough hatred to turn my bloodpump black then just fuck off to glub knows where doing glub knows what just leaving me stewing in my own concupiscent rage.”

Ah. He was chatty drunk tonight….

He went on and on as you worked his muscles, babbling like a brook. Mindfang this. The Condesce and Gl'Bgolyb that. You wanted nothing more than to zone out, but a talkative drunk could slip up information that could be used against him. So you listened, giving a thoughtful hum whenever the situation demanded, learning more and more about the intergalactic price of raw dafad wool against your will.

His monologue began to peter off after what felt like hours.

“Do you know why I chose you to be my personal attendant?” He asked suddenly, propping himself up just a bit.

“Because you’re not threatened by me.” You replied without hesitation. “And even if I tried anything an ocean surrounds us so there’s nowhere for me to go.”

“Well don’t we have a smarty pants here… Didn’t realize you could talk so much.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.” You muttered under your breath.

Dualscar turned his head to grin at you cheekily, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you under him. “So small.” He murmured. “With such a smart little mouth.”

He was intimidating even on the best of days, but pinned by his weight with his face only inches from your own…. You couldn’t help but swallow thickly as you caught a glimpse of his shark-like teeth.

“Such fragile skin.” His grin widened, teeth so sharp…. So sharp, you could swear you saw serration on the edges. Not the uneven rows of a bull or mako shark… but the perfect even triangles of a great white. The troll bent his head down, tracing his lips along your jaw and down your neck. “I could kill you right now.” His breath was cool against your skin, the bristly hair on his chin scratching against you. “It would be so easy….” He dragged his teeth along the length of your throat, just hard enough for you to feel it.

“… To rip your windpipe right out with my teeth.”

It was all you could do to keep still as he gently bit down, cold sweat covering your skin. No self defense class had prepared you for this. You could feel your limbs trembling as you stared up at the ceiling, view obscured by his bright orange horns.

“Not that I would of course,” He murmured into your neck, chuckling as he pulled back just enough to plant a soft kiss where his teeth had been a moment ago.

You exhaled shakily, and he pressed his lips against your throat again, laughing. “There’s nothing to be scared of… I’m not actually going to hurt you.”

You gave a nervous chuckle, hyper-aware as the prickle of his stubble left your skin as he brought his face back up, pupils blown wide as his eyes met yours, cheeks flushed a deep lilac hue. Your breath hitched in your chest….

Dualscar was a handsome man, Probably one of the most handsome men you had met; Troll or human. High cheekbones, thick black hair, violet eyes framed by golden sclera and long dark lashes… even the thin jagged lines that scarred his otherwise perfect face gave him character.

He loomed over you, his weight on your arms was almost unbearably uncomfortable at this point, pins and needles prickling along your veins, as his eyes bored into your own. Until he closed them, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours gently as though testing the waters. You melted against him faster than you would ever care to admit, and you could feel the smile on his lips. His fingers lit fires under your skin as they slid down your arm to your waist and up against the small of your back. How long had it been since you’d felt the comfort of an embrace…?

Passionate. Insistent. Desperate.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled him closer. You could taste sea salt and his drink, bitter and slightly citrusy, on his lips… So different from what you were used to.

His cool skin was a balm to the heated way he kissed you. You gasped as he groped your ass, claws pricking through the fabric of your pants, taking the opportunity to unceremoniously shove his tongue in your mouth. He absolutely reeked of alcohol but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, getting lost in the cold, foreign feeling as he explored your mouth.

You followed as he retreated, nipping his lower lip before running your tongue along it. He moaned, breath ragged as you dragged your nails along his scalp and behind his fins. You kissed him deeply, hands curling around his horns.

He gabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, Dualscar’s voice just a low growl in your ear.

“No.”

You whined as he nipped your jaw, lathing over the spot with his cool tongue. His free hand slipping under your shirt, blunted claws scraping against your skin as he kissed along your jawline and back up to your mouth. It was hot and needy, grinding his groin against your leg.

You pulled back, ducking your head to kiss his neck. He moaned, hand exploring your chest, thumb rubbing over a nipple, sending a shiver down your spine.

After a few more minutes, of licking and sucking his neck, careful to avoid the sharp plates in his gills, he finally sat up, breath ragged as he looked at you. Nudging you off the bed.

It was unexpected… and you couldn’t help but wonder if you had done something wrong before he spoke once more.

“Now strip.” He was looking at you with a lazy smile, sitting upright, legs crossed.

You flushed, pausing for a moment, mouth slightly agape. The kissing, the groping, the humping… you had figured it would lead up to this, but you couldn’t help but feel nervous. Sure, plenty of people had seen you naked before, but this was far from your forte. It wasn’t that you were a prude or anything… but it had been longer than you’d like to admit. In your younger years you had been so focused on excelling in school, and completing college that romance hadn’t been your primary concern. You’d had a couple of datemates, but it usually didn’t last very long anyways. And since you’d landed on Alternia it wasn’t like you even really thought about romance… probably something about too busy trying to survive to really care.

You must have been taking too long because Dualscar reached out and took your hand in his, pressing his lips to your palm, dragging his sharp teeth along your skin. Giving you an altogether disarmingly charming smile.

[babyjamiebarnes]

Build-A-Bear

Part Two

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Peter Parker (platonic), background MCU characters

Warnings: [chapter] language; [series] language, smut, violence

Summary: The only people who knew she was actually a Stark were her dad, her step-mom Pepper, and her “uncles” Happy and Rhodey. A promotion within Stark Industries takes her from an already-sought after position in the Weapons Anaylsis Unit straight to the Avengers as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist... which means her dad is her new boss. There’s only one rule at work: no fraternizing with coworkers. There’s one more rule at home: no dating any Avengers. So what is she supposed to do when a grumpy super soldier becomes not-so-grumpy around her? At 25, do her dad’s rules still apply? Or is her entire livelihood at risk?

Author’s Note: This one was gonna be super short but I felt bad so it’s super long instead lol. I originally planned on posting shorter chapters more frequently so it might be closer to 3-4 days between parts now that I’m posting longer chapters. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! I’ve never done a tag list before so I’m going to keep the limit pretty small. And if you want, you can buy me a coffee! ❣️

(Part One)

Tags: @kennedywxlsh

About an hour later, a light knock on the lab door drew your eyes from your work to Bucky as he walked in. Peter’s eyes darted up but immediately looked back down when he realized the visitor was for you.

“Hey Bucky,” you smiled. He smiled back and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“So… you wanted to see my arm?” he said, more as a question than a reminder.

“Yeah, if you could sit right here, that’d be perfect.”

He did as you asked and took a seat on a lab chair, letting you lean across the lab table toward him so you could fiddle with his prosthetic arm. You quickly grabbed your magnifying glasses, flipping the magnifiers up so you could examine him at face value first.

After a few minutes of looking at the outer plating and sensory receptors, you pulled away.

“Can you feel with this arm?” you asked.

“I can feel pressure but I can’t actually feel with it.” You gave him a confused look, only sort of piecing together what he meant. As he fumbled over his words to explain again, you put your glasses to the side, running around to Bucky’s side again to stand in front of him.

“Okay, this might be weird but it’ll really help me. Hold your hands out, palms up.” He did as you said. “I’m going to do the same thing to both arms and then I want you to show me, using just your right arm, how it felt on each one, okay?”

Bucky nodded and watched as your fingertips gently glided over his forearms, leaving goosebumps in your wake. The second time, you brushed your palms against his skin, as if you were brushing away crumbs. The final time, you scratched your nails down his right arm, making him take in a sharp breath as he watched the skin of his arm turn a pale pink. His left arm, however, kept catching your fingernails between the plates so you resorted to scratching across instead of down.

“Okay, now show me.” You flipped both of your arms over, palm up.

Using just his flesh arm on your right arm, he grazed his fingertips over your skin, admittedly sending a shiver down your spine. You didn’t even consider how weak that touch usually makes you, especially from someone who looks like that. And you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t find him attractive before you even graduated college. You and your roommates were guilty of many nights of fuck-marry-fight with the Avengers as your victims.

When your gaze moved up to meet his, he brushed his hand over your arm, then delicately scratched his nails down your arm.

If it hadn’t been for the slight hum of machinery across the room, you’re sure Bucky would’ve heard your heart beating out of your chest.

Dad would literally kill me if he knew the thoughts going through my head right now, you thought.

“Okay,” you started, pausing briefly to clear your throat. “What about what your left arm feels?”

This one made him furrow his brows, either in concentration or confusion. He pushed his fingertips against your skin harder than before and moved them down your arm. He used more pressure again with the second movement, then went back to heavy fingertip pressure for the scratches.

“Hm,” you said simply, letting your arms drop to your sides again. “So you feel the weight of the touch but not the sensation that comes with it?” The confusion in his eyes made you rephrase. “So this on your right arm —“ you ran your fingers down his flesh arm again, “gives you goosebumps, but this on your metal arm —“ you repeated on the left, “is just a weight, no shiverbugs?”

“Shiverbugs?” he repeated with a barely noticeable smile.

“Goosebumps! Sorry. Shiverbugs is something my grandma used to say. Sometimes I slip into the family slang,” you chuckled. Bucky’s smile grew a bit at the sound of your laugh.

“Yeah, I only feel that on the right arm. No shiverbugs with the left.”

You jokingly scrunched your nose at him before returning to your previous seat. He stood there as you scribbled down notes on how he feels things and your immediate thoughts on how to make it more real for him.

“Is there anything you want done to your arm?”

Bucky seemed slightly taken aback at the question, but quickly steeled his expression. “I know Tony wanted to make it quieter,” he said.

You pushed your glasses up your nose and leaned your elbows on the table between you. You could tell he was still pretty reserved, either because you were new and he didn’t feel comfortable around you, or because he didn’t feel comfortable in the tower as a whole yet.

“I know what Tony wants,” you said gently. “What do you want?”

He frowned at this, turning his eyes to the floor as he thought. After a beat, he finally said, “I just want it to feel real again.”

And you could’ve cried right then and there. You knew the story of the Winter Soldier. You had heard what Bucky had been through. You couldn’t imagine going through anything close to what he experienced, and you’d be damned if you let him down.

But you couldn’t cry in front of him on your first day, so you smiled at him softly.

“That’s not an easy feat but I’ll do what I can, Barnes.”

He smiled briefly before frowning again. That frown seemed to be his default expression.

“Is there anything else you need?” he asked.

“Not right now. Thanks for helping me out,” you replied. He just nodded before walking out. Your eyes stayed on the door for an extra couple seconds before you spun around on your seat and scurried across the room to plop down next to Peter, who was packing his stuff to head home for the day.

“Hey, Boy Wonder, question.” Peter looked at you with raised eyebrows. Nicknaming ran in the family. “Want to use that biomolecular engineering and help me with something?”

•••

Nearly every day when you stopped in the kitchen for lunch, you’d run into Bucky. Sometimes he’d be with Sam, sometimes Steve, sometimes on his own. But almost every single day, he’d be in the common room chatting or the kitchen eating. For the first couple weeks, he was a little tense when you were around. You’d hear him and Sam bickering as you approached, just to see him quiet down once you entered the room. It was a bit disheartening at first, but when it was just the two of you, he always engaged.

You’d called him into the lab a couple times to look over his arm again, but you always felt bad taking him away from whatever training or cases he was working on. The digital renderings were always there, and you spent plenty of time digging into those and running simulations of the different ways you could muffle the wiring. And it’s a good thing you ran the simulations, because a couple of them would’ve fried his whole arm and then some.

Peter was a great help too. When he wasn’t working on his own projects, he’d poke his nose into your work and throw out recommendations. Robotics may have been your specialty, but the kid knew his stuff. He’s the only reason you finally figured out the perfect combo to quiet Bucky’s arm without knocking him out.

Nearly four weeks after your first day — and a week after Peter went back to campus, leaving you alone in the lab — you cornered Bucky in the communal kitchen again and turned on your classic Stark charm.

“Hey Bucky,” you said sweetly, leaning over the counter across from him while he tossed fruit into a blender.

“Hey [Y/N].”

You’d grown a bit more comfortable with each other, mainly from when you two were left alone. He still was a bit quieter with one of his friends around, but he was growing more talkative in general. You felt comfortable tossing nicknames at him; he felt comfortable saying “hey” instead of “hi” and once gave you your own nickname. Since you called him Bucky Bear a time or two, he called you Build A Bear. He almost looked panicked when it slipped, but your initial shock was quickly followed by giggles, easing the tension in his shoulders. But the feeling that name sent to your stomach felt more like bats than butterflies. He even joked with you now.

“So I’ve been looking at the blueprints we have for your arm and I was wondering — I know this is a lot to ask — could I maybe spend some more time digging around in your arm?” You flashed him a hopeful smile, even propping your chin on your hand to look cuter.

Before he answered, he put the lid on the blender and started it, staring at you blankly as the sound filled the entire room. You just sat there, continuing to smile at him. And the more you fluttered your lashes while he let the blender run, the more you could see his frown-y facade start to crack.

He finally broke into a smile when he shut the machine off.

“You don’t have to ask, [Y/N]. I mainly train in the mornings so my afternoons are free. As long as I’m here, you can call me in whenever.”

You jumped up and ran around the counter, giving him an unexpected hug, made obvious by the way he tensed up. You elected to ignore it.

“You’re the best, Bucky Bear.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, gently pulling away from you to pour his smoothie into two glasses. “I just have one stipulation.” You looked up at him expectantly. “Take the rest of this? I, uh, I made a bit too much.”

With a laugh, you grabbed the nearly full glass and led him down the halls to your lab. Since Peter was only coming back one weekend a month, you had kind of taken over the lab, adding some color to make your workspace a little less drab. Your guilty pleasures playlist — aka your favorite middle school dance songs — played quietly over the speakers as you directed Bucky to sit down.

Getting into his arm wasn’t the easiest task. You had to pry off the opening of each individual outer plate, then unscrew — yes, with a screwdriver — the covering on the inner plates to actually see the wiring inside. Fortunately, Bucky brought his phone with him so he could occupy himself and let you focus. You were a bit surprised at how easily he understood modern technology, but he wasn’t quite the old man Steve was when it came to the changing times.

After spending a solid 10 minutes leaning over the lab table to open Bucky’s arm, you poked around inside for a while, jotting down notes as you went. Shuri had sent Tony quite a few notes for you to reference, but seeing everything firsthand and taking your own notes always helped.

Unfortunately, Bucky had two removable sections in his arm: one on his forearm, one in his bicep.

“Scale of one to ten, how comfy does the table look?” you asked.

Bucky looked up from his phone and gave you a confused look. “Uh, maybe a two? Why?”

“Well, Buckaroo, I need to get to the top plate too so you’ll have to either hold your arm up for me to get to it or lie down somewhere.”

He glanced back down at the table, then looked at you in confusion as he voiced his own suggestion. “What about the couch in the common room?”

You tapped your nose and pointed at him with a smile, gathering your supplies and the rest of Bucky’s arm. He led the way, lying flat on the couch and raising his left arm over his head.

“Is it okay if I play more music out here?” you asked as you unloaded everything.

“Sure. I should probably catch up on modern music anyway,” he said with a soft smile. You had Friday play your guilty pleasures playlist again while you got to work on opening up the top of Bucky’s arm.

You’d been poking around for almost 20 minutes when the silence was broken.

“Music nowadays is so sexual,” Bucky said suddenly.

“Hm. What makes you say that?” you asked, only half paying attention as you drew up more stream-of-consciousness notes on the coffee table beside you.

“This song.” You paused and immediately recognized the beat for “Candy Shop” by 50 Cent.

“Oh come on, as if you didn’t have any inappropriate songs in the ‘40s,” you scoffed.

“Of course we did but it was never this blatant! We were more subtle back then,” Bucky defended.

“Bro,” you deadpan. “If you think ‘Candy Shop’ is obvious, you have way more catching up to do. Friday, play ‘WAP’ by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion.”

You watched Bucky react as the song started. Even the initial “there’s some whores in this house” made his eyes go wide. At “wet ass pussy make that pull out game weak,” he turned to you, beet red in the face.

“What kind of music do you listen to?!”

“This is a popular song!” you laughed. “We have some obviously sexual songs that aren’t quite as… vulgar too. Friday, play ‘T-Shirt’ by Thomas Rhett.”

Bucky eyed you cautiously this time, not quite sure if you were actually playing a more censored song. He visibly relaxed when he heard the first lyrics, “Get off of work and we meet down at our spot. We got a patio with a view of a parking lot.”

“See, this is already so much better.”

“Don’t act so innocent,” you smirked, rolling your eyes at him.

“That sounds like an accusation,” Bucky laughed.

“Oh, it is.”

“Yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?” He sat up to face you directly, one leg landing on each side of your body sitting on the floor. His posture combined with his playful conversation had you wondering where this confidence came from. Because you definitely liked it.

“Come on,” you scoffed. “You can’t convince me a face like that,” you pointed directly at him to emphasize your point, “wasn’t making panties drop left and right back in the day.”

He shook his head and laughed to himself, leaning back on the couch, yet made no move to deny your accusation.

“Who would’ve known my sweet little Bucky Bear was a player?” you joked.

“Oh, like you’re not the same way, Build A Bear.”

“Excuse me?!” you squealed. “I’ll have you know I’m a good little Christian girl and I’m saving myself for marriage,” you said with a grin, maneuvering from sitting on your butt to kneeling and clasping your hands together like you were praying.

“You’re a lot of things, [Y/N]. A good liar is not one of those things,” Bucky smirked.

Your mouth fell agape. You liked this confident, playful side of him. You’d only seen glimpses until now.

“What’s your number?” you asked, dropping your hands to your sides.

“Uhh… My phone number?”

“No, your sexual body count,” you laughed, making sure to clarify; former assassins probably have a different interpretation of ‘body count.’ “How many people have you slept with?”

You knew it was a personal question but given the topic of conversation and casual tone you’d both taken on, it didn’t seem totally out of bounds.

Bucky thought for a second, slowly counting on his fingers. Your eyes watched as the slender metal digits flicked up: one, two, three... “Four.”

“Yeah, okay,” you scoffed.

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Bucky said with a laugh.

“Because that’s my body count.”

“Doll, I took plenty of dames out on the town, but I’d leave the night with a kiss and nothing else,” he said, that old school Brooklyn lilt sneaking up on him.

You sighed and shook your head, still not believing him but choosing to let it go for now.

“Give me your arm,” you said, holding your hand out. Bucky let his arm drop into your hand while you picked up a microchip with a needle-thin pair of tweezers. “This will adhere to the vibranium and essentially act like a pillow to muffle the sounds of your arm. So it’ll still make noise — I can’t just get rid of all sound — but it’ll be notably quieter.”

You tucked the chip under the inner plating of Bucky’s arm, watching as it sparked over the metal to let you both know it was working.

“Now lie back down so I can put you back together, Humpty Dumpty,” you said.

Bucky let out a quiet chuckle, but leaned back on the couch with his left arm over his head. After 15 minutes of angling the plating just right so it would fit back together, you climbed off the couch, distancing yourself from Bucky for the first time in nearly four hours.

“Anything else I can help the mad scientist with today?” Bucky asked. He had moved to rest his elbows on his knees, looking up at you from his spot on the sofa.

You checked your watch to see how much time you had left in your workday. 4:15. Forty-five minutes until you can clock out for the weekend. Not quite close enough to bullshit through some dumb side project so you don’t get too invested. But there’s one thing you wanted to check out to improve the feeling in Bucky’s arm.

“Can you take your shirt off?” you asked plainly.

Bucky’s eyes went wide for half a second before he slipped back into his playful demeanor. “Shouldn’t you take me on a date first?”

“Shut up,” you giggled. You giggled. “I just want to see how the arm is connected to your torso.”

Without pause, Bucky leaned forward, grabbed the back of his shirt, and tugged it over his head to let it fall to the floor. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t consider what he’d look like underneath his clothing, so it took you a second to gather your bearings again. You couldn’t help yourself. How could you not admire the slender lines of his collarbones, the thick layer of muscle covering his chest, the distinct ridges on his abdomen speckled with scars, the very tip of what you could only assume were two tantalizing depressions leading right to —

“Like what you see, doll?” he smirked.

Your eyes met his, reluctantly pulling away from what you knew would be the source of your dreams tonight.

“Four, my ass,” you mumbled in fake annoyance, kneeling between his thighs again to get a better look at him. Your fingertips trailed along the smooth line of scarred skin bordering the harsh metal of his arm. It took all your willpower to focus on work instead of the heat his body was radiating being so close to each other. “Was this how, you know, they put your arm on?”

Bucky shook his head, his expression growing sullen at the indirect mention of his tormentors. “They just kind of dug away at it. The Wakandans actually cut away a bit more of my skin to allow for healthier healing.”

You could tell it was carefully done, judging by the faint discoloring and thin ridge alongside the metal, as opposed to angry red lines that protruded out like the photos Shuri sent.

“Does this area hurt?” You pressed your hand flat to the scar; Bucky had to try to reign in his heartbeat. You had leaned in close to see his arm, leaving you close enough for him to just dip his head down and —

“What’s going on here?”

Both of you whipped your heads to the side to see a very confused — and slightly annoyed — Tony standing in the entrance to the common room, clearly just passing by and stumbling on a somewhat compromising situation: his daughter on her knees between a shirtless Winter Soldier’s thighs.

Without taking your eyes off your father, you reached around on the coffee table and grabbed your notebook.

“Research! I promise!”

“Research that couldn’t happen in your designated lab?” You could tell there was so much more he wanted to say, but had to keep it to himself for now to avoid telling Bucky who you really were.

“I had to open the compartment in his tricep area and didn’t want to make him lie down on the lab tables for three hours.” The accusatory glare from your dad made you shrink into yourself, your voice growing quieter as you spoke. Fridays were family dinner night, and you already knew you wouldn’t hear the end of this.

“Uh-huh,” he said slowly, still eyeing you and Bucky suspiciously. “And why did he need to be half naked for that?”

“Da — Tony,” you said, barely catching yourself. “I mean, Mr. Stark. I was examining the scar tissue and spinal connection to determine how to enhance the sensory receptors currently embedded in the vibranium.”

Tony’s eyes flitted between you and Bucky. Your eyes were wide, clearly nervous as he grilled you. Bucky, on the other hand, was flushed pink and leaning a little too close for Tony’s comfort.

“Keep this PG from now on, okay? And no working outside of the lab. This is Stark Tower, not Bezos Tower. We’re not gonna work you to the bone.” He started to walk away before stepping back and adding, “No fraternizing with coworkers, remember?”

With a quick nod, you stood abruptly and gathered your things to take it back to your lab for the night. Bucky was quick to slip his shirt back on and followed you with his head down to avoid the burning gaze of your father — or as far as he knew, his boss.

You didn’t expect Bucky to go back to your lab with you, but part of you was glad he did. Being around him brought you a sense of calm and comfort, even after what just happened. If he had just walked away, you’d assume the worst: that an accusation like that was far from what he wanted to hear.

You set all your things back on your table to start putting them away when Bucky shoved his hands into his pockets and cleared his throat.

“Sorry about that,” he said. You spared a quick glance at him, seeing the tension in his shoulders as he chose his words carefully.

“Why?” you asked, genuinely confused on how that situation was somehow his fault.

“Tony… he doesn’t really like me much.”

“Yeah, I know,” you laughed. “But that was way more of a me-problem than a you-problem. We’ll just have to work in here from now on.” You shrugged and went back to putting your tools in their respective drawers.

Bucky still stood right inside the doorway, the door shut behind him so no one outside could hear you two. He rocked back and forth on his feet, trying to force himself to follow through with at least mentioning what he planned on asking you.

“I was actually gonna see if you wanted to get dinner together sometime until Tony gave us that speech,” he chuckled.

You slid the final drawer shut and turned to Bucky. You knew you two were getting closer and you couldn’t deny feeling an attraction to him, but you never expected him to feel that same pull. The thought made you smile back at him while he cracked his knuckles, most likely from nerves. What happened to that fun and flirty attitude he had just a few minutes ago?

Your grandma always said to never date a man who wasn’t nervous about asking you out...

“I’m pretty good at keeping secrets,” you said quietly.

His eyes stopped darting around the room to find your gaze. You stepped closer, taking slow steps as you crossed the room to him until you were toe to toe. He didn’t take his eyes off of you until you held your phone out to him.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” you said with a small smirk.

His lips curled into a small smile as he snatched your phone and entered his number.

“I’ll text you my address. Does tomorrow night work?” you asked, unintentionally biting your lip but not missing the way Bucky’s eyes followed the movement.

“Tomorrow sounds great,” he replied.

“Okay. See you tomorrow, Buck.” You took a bit of a risk and stood on your tip toes to give him a kiss on the cheek, his face immediately flushing red. Your own cheeks grew warm when you stepped back, tossing Bucky a quick wave as you turned back around and hoping he’d leave before you started screaming.

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 623, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

STORY WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death, abandoned baby, child intoxication, death of a minor character, injured baby, kidnapped child

WORDS: 1177

“Hey there Elizabeth, hey there Elle, hey there mo stór, hey there Jing,” I greeted the girls the next day as I led the conga line of Ratajczyk babies into their shared hospital room.

“Hihi mommy!” Elizabeth beamed, her speech coming out slurred and mumbled, due to her jaw literally being wired shut. “Can we haf boigures tonight? Pwease?”

“Burgers?” I repeated as Peter came in, having been chatting to a nurse about the girls’ night. “Well, let me talk to the attending doctor and get a seal of approval first, alright?”

“Yay yay!” she squealed happily as Peter took a seat into his throne like chair and held out a hand for me to curl into him. “Hihi daddy!”

“Hihi Bitty,” he smiled, settling me onto his knee as the babies bopped around the room, babbling quietly to themselves as they got into little baby mischief. “What was that I heard about burgers?”

“Elizabeth wants a cheeseburger,” I explained before turning to her. “Do you want a vegan cheeseburger or a regular cheeseburger?”

Elizabeth mumbled an incoherent reply as Katie woke up from her nap, rolling over and opening her soft brown eyes.

“Hihi daddy, hihi mommy,” she yawned, sitting up. “Hihi Baby Tommy, hihi, hihi Baby Noah, hihi Baby Eve, hihi Baby Mattie, hihi Baby Teddy, hihi Baby Jojo. What’s for dinner?”

“I can place an order with that burger place we all like and go pick it up,” Peter offered at once. “I can also go check in with the girls’ doctors and make certain that’s alright for them to consume.”

“Yummy!” she groaned. “Mommy, I need to pee.”

I switched the babies over to big sister Elizabeth while I helped Katie into the bathroom to use the toilet.

“Mommy?” I hummed softly as I took up a perch on the edge of the tub. “I don’t think I can hold down a burger tonight. Sorry.” “Mo stór, please don’t apologize for something that you cannot control,” I told her in a gentle voice, holding out a fistful of toilet paper for her to wipe herself with when finished. “Don’t worry, daddy and I can hash out a plan to get you simple, easy to digest food for dinner tonight.”

After communicating Katie’s need to my husband, I helped her off the toilet and up to the sink to wash her hands, flushing the toilet for her before she limped back to bed again. When I was tucking my daughter in underneath her blankets, Peter came in with a smile on his face.

“Good news, the girls’ doctors cleared them for burgers,” he announced in a pleasant rumble. “I also found a mom and pop soup place a few doors down from the family burger place, so I plan on zipping in there and getting something for Katie there.”

“Yay yay!” giggled Baby Tommy.

“Katie, would you like a small sized unseasoned chicken noodle soup?” he asked her, glancing down at his cell phone.

“Yes please, daddy!” Katie snuggled down into her hospital issued pillows. “That sound yummy!”

“Sweetheart, I ordered plain cheeseburgers and fries for the kids, a vegan cheeseburger and apple fries for bitty and a double-double and garlic fries for you,” he filled me in, knowing what everyone liked.

“And what did you get for yourself, my love?” I giggled at his attentive care.

“Six bacon lover supremes and three extra-large orders of salt and pepper seasoned French fries,” he told me with a wolfish grin. “Oh- and Isabelle is on her way to meet up with us, so I got her food as well.”

“Izzy bear!” Katie crowed as the family nanny made an appearance just then, toting her cat backpack packed with Mittens and Primrose tucked away inside. “Hihi!”

MEOW Mittens perped before jumping out of the backpack and prancing up to the babies, purring like a motorboat on crack.

PUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUR

Primrose bounced over to Baby Noah with a chitter, excited to play. Within minutes, the hospital room was full with giggles and excitement.

KNOCK KNOCK

Mittens seized Primrose by the scruff of her neck before hauling the wriggling skunklet underneath Elizabeth’s bed just as a kindly face nurse came in with more medication for the girls. Baby Jojo closed the door behind her with a causal grin on her chubby face.

“Well sweetheart, I’m off to go grab the grub now,” Peter announced just then, glancing down at his cell phone once more. “Baby Tommy, hold down the fort for me.”

“Aye aye daddy!” the chubby little man giggled as he bopped his way into the bathroom to use the toilet.

“Mommy?” Elizabeth asked me as she climbed out of bed and began to do gentle yoga. “Da teeter at Waint Mwicals is utting on Wiezard of Oz next ear.”

It took me a brief second to decipher her riddle, but when I did, I understood what she was asking me.

“The theater department at Saint Michaels is putting on The Wizard of Oz next year?” I translated with a quiet hum at her excited head bobs. “And you want to try out for it? I’m alright with it, but you will need to rope daddy in on it as well, okay?”

MEOW

The both of us took a glance over at the nurse, who was leaving the room. Baby Jojo made a cat noise, clearly trying to deter the idea of there being a fluffy creature with four paws in the room.

“Sweet babies,” she cooed as she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Mittens appeared from underneath the bed just then, releasing Primrose so that the tiny skunklet could commence with skunklet zoomies.

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@elianafilthyrose

@ch3rry-c0la

@rockstarslutt

@angelxfuckk

[imtryingmyfuckingbe]

Chapter Five

Word Count: 5,213

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Frantic knocking pulls Y/N from her sleep. She glances at the time, groaning. Who the fuck bangs on someone’s door at 3:37 in the morning? Running a hand down her face, she tries to rub the sleep away. She rolls off the bed, forgoing patting down her hair and wiping away the crusts around her eyes.

The knocker, who may cease to exist in the next six seconds if Y/N has a say in the matter, hits the door harder. She pulls her sleek Remington handgun from its holster under the entryway table.

“Are you trying to beat up my fucking door, dude?” She mumbles when she opens the door a crack and peeks her head around its side. She keeps the gun aimed at the person, foot bracing the door in case they try to push through.

The hallway light blinds her and she blinks until it she can see. Familiar sneakers shuffle, leading to worn jeans and fingers twisting around each other. She lands her gaze on the offender’s face, drawing back. “Peter?” she whispers, perturbed.

Worse than before, he sports two black eyes and a bleeding nose. His clothes aren’t ripped this time, at least. She sighs, opening the door and motioning him inside. He shuffles past with a sniffle, reclaiming the chair he used a few days ago. Y/N stows her firearm and settles across him, head in her hands.

She wiggles her toes on the concrete, examining the chipped paint on her nails. Gotta paint them soon, she thinks absently. Heat spreads across her skin and a weight settles in her stomach. She swallows the stone in her throat, looking up. Shadows cast across Peter’s cheeks, hollowing his face and intensifying his wounds. He returns her gaze with wan, wet eyes, the tears carving track through the blood and dirt.

“Peter, what the hell?” She can’t speak louder than a whisper.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I—I didn’t know where else to go.”

She massages her temples. If she lets the worry consume her, she’ll lose control. She’s not good with biting her tongue so she turns the stress into frustration, and then low-boiling anger. “How about the hospital? Or-or, I dunno, your aunt?”

Peter shakes his head, shamefaced but vehement. “I don’t want her to see me like this. And I can’t go to the hospital.”

Y/N bites her lip, pulling at a dead piece of skin. She doesn’t know anything about this kid. She helped him once, in a moment of weakness, and he thought it fit to return. Viper, Viper, Viper, her mind whispers. She chews her cheek. Her paranoia screeches and thrashes. Her heart races.

Viper, Viper, Viper.

She rests her elbows on her knees, leaning to catch Peter’s attention. In a low, commanding voice, she demands, “I need you to tell me exactly how you got hurt or I won’t help you.”

“What?” he asks, incredulous and eyes blown.

She nods. “Yeah. I don’t know Jack shit about you, Peter. I see you in an alleyway, beat to hell and back—fine. Some scuffle you couldn’t win. You come to my door at the ass crack of dawn, bleeding like Christ on the cross? It’s barely been a week. I need to know who I’m helping and why.”

Peter scoffs, crossing his arms. He tears his stare away, scorching her wall as if it offended him and not her. His jaw clenches. Y/N settles back in her seat, cataloging his reaction. Frustrated and secretive? Yes. Malicious? She can’t tell.

The silence stretches, broken by a sporadic sniffle. Peter keeps his arms tight around his waist to shield himself from Y/N’s steel gaze. Still, she observes, grave and dark.

He shakes his head. “I can’t tell you, Y/N.”

She purses her lips. “Okay. Then I can’t help you.”

His head whips back at her, bottom lip trembling. “Please,” he begs. “I can’t let Aunt May see me like this, and I can’t go to the hospital because—” he stops short, clamping his mouth shut. “I just can’t, okay?”

Y/N huffs, standing to start the coffee. Sleep won’t come again, anyway, and the caffeine headache creeps behind her eyes. “Peter, I need you to see my side, okay?” she begins, fighting to keep her tone even. “We’re strangers. I don’t know what kinda trouble you’re getting into.” She fills the carafe before emptying it into the reservoir. The familiar stream bubbles as it pours, the one normal thing about her morning thus far.

The carafe makes a hollow clang when she returns it to the burner with force. Palms flat on the counter and back to Peter, she rolls the words on her tongue before she speaks. “I don’t want to help a criminal, and I need to know you’re not a criminal, okay?” She turns around. Peter fiddles with his fingers. “Okay, Peter?”

He nods.

“Tell me what you can, then.” The coffee machine beeps, signaling its end. She pours two cups, offering one to Peter. He takes it but sets it aside. Back in her seat, she waves her hand in his direction, urging him onward. “Out with it, Peter.”

Peter sighs, chest heaving. He wipes his nose, smearing the blood. At least the flow stopped. “I…” he clears his throat. “I saw some things I probably shouldn’t have; stuck my nose where it didn’t belong. Got caught by a few of the— of the people I saw.” He shrugs, shaking his head. “Five against one didn’t work out that well for me.” He motions to his face, where the bruises begin to darken.

For as much as he said, he revealed nothing of consequence. Y/N massages her temples. “Peter. Not good enough. Why can’t you go to the hospital?”

“Look, I’m not some delinquent or some shit, okay? I just— I can’t, okay?”

“No!” she shouts, slamming her mug down and standing up. She steadies herself against her chair, light-headed. “Fuck.” She waits for the dancing spots to settle. “No, Peter, s’not good enough. ‘Cause I look at you, falling to fucking pieces, and I’ve thinkin’ of a million and one reasons why. You say you can’t go to the hospital. To me that sounds like your face is plastered on wanted posters.” She whirls around the face him. “I’ve given you more leeway than I should’ve because I wanna believe you, but I can’t. And if you can’t tell me what the hell you got goin’ on, you need to go.”

Fresh tears pool in Peter’s eyes. He looks pitiful, hugging himself and littered with wounds. “Please, Y/N. I—I…” he trails off, hanging his head. His shoulders shake, violent but quiet.

Y/N growls, taking two steps to the bathroom. The door slams open, hitting the wall and swinging back. She stops it with her foot, focused on yanking her first aid kit from beneath her sink. Bottles of shampoo and toilet paper roll to the floor. She kicks them out of the way, ignoring when one bottle squirts on the wall from the force.

Peter cowers away from her, brows drawn and eyes blown. He holds his hands in front of him, palms facing outward. Fresh tears flood his cheeks. Y/N drops the kit on the table and slides her chair close enough to tend his wounds.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’ve got going on, Peter. But if you can’t be honest with me, I can’t help you. You tell me the truth, now, or the next time you need a helping hand it won’t be me,” she snarls, rough hands tilting his face to examine his cuts and bruises.

He whimpers but lets her maneuver his head towards the kitchen light. This time, she doesn’t waste energy on kindness. She ignores his flinch when she wipes his upper lip and probes at his nose. Peter white-knuckles the arms of the chair, back rigid.

She works in silence, tearing open packages of antibacterial wipes and setting aside Band-Aids for later use. Peter breathes around the pain—through the anger wafting off of Y/N in harsh waves. The air is bitter and electric.

He sighs. “I grew up here, ya’know?”

Y/N glances up to meet his eyes, but Peter trains his gaze on her ceiling. She returns focus to his lip, applying antiseptic ointment.

Peter clears his throat. “I care about the city. Got family here. Friends. I, uh. There’s some shit going down, bad shit. And I saw it happen.” He pauses, exhaling a shaky breath. Y/N moves on to his eyebrow. “I saw it happen and I had to try and stop it, ya’know? Didn’t do a good job of it,” he finishes in a whisper.

Y/N sits back with a sigh. She examines his cast down eyes and trembling lips. His hands shake in their grip of the chair. “Vipers, huh?” Peter jolts back. “I guess my last question is why are you, a seventeen year old, looking into gangs? Got a death wish or somethin’?”

“You know about…them?” he whispers.

She offers a brittle smile. “Unfortunately.” She retrieves an ice pack from the freezer and wraps it in a dish towel. Peter mumbles his thanks, pressing it to his left eye. She heats her coffee and returns to her seat. “I’m sorry. About before. I thought you might’ve been one of ‘em.”

He sniffles, shifting the pack to the right side of his face. “Yeah, I get that now. Sorry for waking you up.”

Y/N snorts. “It’s fine. Would’ve woken up in,” she checks the time, “right about now, actually. I never get much shut eye.” Peter nods. “So, is this why you were making friends with a dumpster? Kid, you can’t keep doing this. There’re bigger people more equipped to handle these kinda things.”

“Yeah, who? The Avengers?”

Y/N reels from the venom and spite in Peter’s tone. “What, you don’t like the fellas?”

Peter huffs. “I just don’t think they’re trying their hardest, is all. This is an all hands-on-deck thing, right? I don’t think they get that.”

Y/N bites her lip, brow furrowed. She worries about the same thing— that they want her to pick up their slack. Bucky said they’ve faced the biggest and baddest, yet they can’t catch wayward gang members? They’ve torn apart cities, ruined homes and lives in the endeavor to protect. How can a group of—assumed human— criminals get passed them? Spider-Man apprehended the Vulture in half the time the Vipers hit the Avenger radar. What aren’t they telling her?

She pushes the thought aside. Now is not the time. Peter doesn’t know she works alongside the Avengers, a truth that she laments. She crosses her arms, throwing her thoughts out the window and into the street to be run over by some taxi. “Oh, hey, how’re your ribs?”

Peter squints at her, eyebrow raised. “My ribs?”

“Yeah? You bruised ‘em a week ago, dude.”

His eyes widen, taking up half of his face. “Oh! Oh, right. Yeah. Yeah, they’re okay. Barely feel ‘em now.”

Y/N tilts her head, forehead creased. “Okay, pal. If you say so.” Peter nods. “Well, you’re all patched up. What’s next on your agenda?”

Peter snorts. “I dunno. Sneak back home before my aunt wakes up, I guess. Get some sleep.”

Y/N sighs, looking out the window to the rising sun. It peaks between buildings and shines through the bars of  her fire escape. She reminisces sitting outside, splitting cigarettes with her college roommate when she lived in the city. Although, the apartment was larger and Y/N’s aspirations were better.

She clears her throat, still enjoying the view. “Well, I’m not going to sleep. If it won’t worry your aunt you can take my bed. Or I can call you a taxi again. Don’t want you passin’ out on the street.”

As if on cue, Peter yawns, loud and big. He nods, head lulling forward for a moment. “If it’s not too much.”

She shrugs. “Nah, go ahead.”

He mumbles his gratitude, stumbling over to her bed. The clock on her nightstand glares at her in red 6:02. Peter falls asleep with an ease she misses, blankets pulled up and pillow held close. She shivers, the draft from the window caressing her skin with lingering tendrils.

Not so long ago, three years ago if she recall correctly, another person slept in her bed. Although, they shared it more nights of the week than not, and Katherine wasn’t a stranger she found on the street. It feels strange, having someone else in the apartment, like sliding her foot into a too-big shoe. Even if it is some stubborn kid who runs towards danger.

Y/N downs her thoughts with her coffee. With Peter asleep, she can brainstorm and sort through her thoughts. She pours another cup and hunkers down at her table, a fresh notebook open to its first page. She withdraws a throwing knife from its holster beneath her table, twirling it through her fingers. The cool metal calms her, helps her focus.

She marks the date in the top right corner.

Having sent her information with Bucky, she starts from the beginning. Listing helps sort her thoughts, and with the hectic beginning to her day, she needs to center herself.

Vipers, she labels, writing beneath it what she knows. Extraterrestrial weapons. Marketing. Assumed small group. Mobile (how do they get around? Do they rotate through bases? To build and sell, they have to have places at their disposal). Timeline moved up? She underlines this.

They’re getting reckless and restless. What changed?

Under this, she writes Fire. Most people commit arson to cover up a crime scene. But there wasn’t a crime scene. They wanted to get rid of the bodies. She draws an arrow to the side, reminding herself to ask if Bucky found their identities.

By the time she finishes examining concrete evidence and drawing conclusions, a second pot of coffee brews. The sun is rising slowly, soft light slipping through her window. An hour has passed, and Peter sleeps soundly, if not a bit restless. Her chicken scratch litters five pages front and back. She flips to a new one.

As well as the Vipers cover their tracks, no one can live unnoticed. She thought she did, to the best of her ability, but that got her looped into taking down a crime syndicate. They have to have a routine; at least a semblance of one. If she knew one of the Vipers, she could tail them; see how they operate.

She looks to Peter, who has an arm thrown across his face. He saw, and interacted, with— what’d he say? Five members. She shivers, picturing the lanky boy fighting off five people.

If he points one out, the rest follow. Still, she begrudges asking for his help. He doesn’t deserve to risk his childhood for her sake. She bites her lips, writing ‘Peter?’ underneath police scanner emissions.

Y/N drops her pen next to the knife, raising her arms above her head. She can’t remember a time when her back didn’t ache and her joints didn’t crack. She strains her fingertips to the ceiling, rolling her head left and right. Peter stirs on the bed, rolling over.

How did he get into this mess? If the Vipers are as good as Bucky thinks, they wouldn’t let a teenager stumble upon their super-secret hideout. Did he know about them prior to finding them? How did he know about them, better yet?

She turns to a new page, labels it Peter, and continues her thoughts. What part does he play in this, she wonders, and how did he escape their clutches with little to show for it? A bloodied nose and some bruises pale in comparison to what she assumes of their capabilities. They burned three people alive, and he gets to limp away?

No.

Furthermore, he only bore this past scuffles’ wounds. Less than a week ago he sported bruised ribs and a split lip that would take a minimum of two weeks to heal. She would know, too, participating in her fair share of fights.

She stabs her knife into her table. It stands on end, along with the hairs on her neck. Goosebumps raise. Couldn’t be, could it?

Soft taps pull her attention to her window. She groans. Bucky sits on his haunches, wigging his fingers in her direction. She rolls her eyes, waving for him to come in. The window squeals as he pushes it up, sliding through. His boots thud against her floor, and he eases the window shut.

“Hey—”

“Shh,” she admonishes, holding a finger to her lips and nodding at the bed.

Bucky furrows his brows, eyes narrowed. He cocks his head to the side. “Who’s that?”

Y/N motions for him to sit across from her. The chair scrapes against the wood and groans when he settles into it. He glances at her notebook before she closes it. “Who’s that?” he asks again.

She shrugs. “Some kid I’ve patched up a few times. Needed a place to sleep. You ever use a door?”

“Nah, too much work.”

“Compared to climbing my fire escape and falling through my window?”

Bucky offers a Cheshire smile. “More fun, too.”

Y/N snorts. At this point, anything Bucky does fails to surprise her. Three interactions in, and she knows he does what he wants, when he wants, and how he wants it. If she likes one thing about him, it’s his conviction.

“All right, you monkey. Why are you here?”

He bites his lips, casting his gaze to her wall. “Just checking in,” he tells the cracked plaster.

“Yeah, okay. Sure. I’m great. The stock market is crashing, and the world is seconds away from being a dumpster fire. But I’m good. How are you? You want some scones or coffee to go with your bullshit?”

Bucky laughs, looking at her again. “Coffee sounds great.”

“You know where it is. Mugs in the cabinet above.”

Y/N returns to fiddling with her knife while Bucky mills around behind her. He reaches around her to fill her cup, and then back to his seat with his own. She bites her cheek to hold in a quip. Bucky cocks an eyebrow. She shakes her head, both dissuading him from asking and casting out the thoughts. He drinks his coffee in silence, save for the occasional slurp.

“Bucky, I mean it. Why—” a groan from the bed stops her.

Peter pushes himself to a seated position, rubbing at his eyes. Curls stick to his forehead, forming the picture-perfect rat’s nest. He stretches, arms flopping to his sides with a sigh. Bucky rotates at the waist to get a better look. Almost comically, both Peter’s and Bucky’s eyes widen when they meet. Peter offers an imperceptible nod, focus flickering between Y/N and Bucky.

Y/N narrows her eyes. She looks from Bucky to Peter and back. The latter’s fists clench her blankets; the former white-knuckles his mug. They share a silent conversation in the way only two people who know each other can. Of course, she thinks.

She shakes her head, chuckling with bitter dryness. “Of course,” she says. Their heads snap to her direction. Bucky’s brows furrow, lips a thin line. Peter’s cheeks redden, jaw hanging. “Of course!” she says again around her empty laughter. “I can’t believe. You— you!” She throws her head back, hysterical and waving between the men.

“Y/N—”

“Oh, no. No. No.” She struggles to say anything else, overwhelmed with disbelief. When she settles, frustration takes its place. She groans, dropping her head against her table, rapping it with her forehead three times before settling. “Fuck,” she whispers.

Bucky and Peter decide to let her process. Or she frightened them with her manic laughter. She doesn’t know, and she doesn’t care. Information Peter skirted around clicks into place. His ribs: healed. Black eyes: gone. Even now, the morning after a five-to-one fight, his lip is split a pale line, and the bruises around his eyes have yellowed.

His vehement and knowing lamenting of the Avengers. His knowledge of the Vipers. Unable to go to a hospital, because the staff asks questions and how can a seventeen year old explain fast healing wounds when he can’t explain how he got the wounds in the first place?

She pulls herself from the table, back hitting her chair. Arms crossed, she surveys their reactions. Peter examines the bed with focused precision, still fisting the sheets. Bucky drinks his coffee, gaze trained on Y/N.

“Spider-Man?” she whispers. That earns a snort from Bucky and a gasp from Peter.

“No!” he protests. “No. I’m not Spider-Man. I don’t even know Spider-Man. I—”

Y/N silences him with a hand. “Spider-Man? Really? Joseph, Mary, and Jesus. I can’t get away from you fuckers, can I?”

“Hey!” Peter objects.

She rolls her eyes, glaring daggers at Bucky. “Did you guys plan this?” she accuses. “Tug on my heartstrings to make me help you?”

Bucky’s corners of his lips pull down and his eyebrows go up. “Nope. Kid did that himself. Wasn’t even s’posed to be part of this. Stark excluded him.”

“You’re too fucking amused, Bucky. I’ll knock that grin off your face; don’t think I won’t.”

“I trust you. So, now I got a question. How did you two even meet?”

Peter shakes his head at Y/N. She sighs. “Listen here, street-fighter. I’m not about secrets or lies. I—”

“You do that for a living!”

“I’m not about secrets or lies from someone I helped, how’s that? Hm?” she goads. “I get it, super-secret identity, whatever, kid. But this is a big thing to keep from someone you come to for help at four in the morning, don’chya think?” She turns to Bucky. “Saw him hiding behind a dumpster beat to hell and offered to patch him up.”

“Why wouldn’t you go to the Tower?”

“‘Cause then I’d have to explain to Mister Stark why I got into a fight,” Peter admits lamely, head hung.

“This is too much. Way too much. Good god, what has my life become? I’m working with the most prolific assassin— no offense—”

“None taken.”

“—and patching up fucking Spider-Man? Who isn’t even a man! You’re a kid. You can’t even buy your own smokes for fucksakes.”

“I stopped the Vulture!”

“I know you did. Congrats. But you’re still a kid, I don’t care what superpowers you have. I need— I need—” Y/N stands from her chair, pulling at the roots of her hair. What does she need? A normal life, preferably, but that’s unrealistic. “I need a cigarette,” she decides.

“Y/N—” Bucky begins.

“No. Gimme a second, okay?” She fumbles through her jacket pockets, fingers shaking. Too much coffee, too much stress.

She pulls out a pack of Marlboros, pushes past Bucky and Peter for the window. It refuses to budge, no matter how hard she struggles. She groans, yanking harder. “Barnes, please, for the love of God, can you open this fucking window? I swear, I will—”

Bucky sidles next to Y/N, pressed between her and the fridge. He nudges her aside so he can pull up the window. Cool air rushes at them, raising goosebumps on her bare legs and reminding her of her thin t-shirt and sleep shorts. Still, she throws caution to the wind and clambers on to the fire escape. Bucky returns to his seat. She ignores his harsh whispers and Peter’s meek replies.

She struggles with the lighter, her fingers numb and shaking. The wind blows the fire out before she can light her cigarette. “Fuck!” she growls, hovering her hand closer to the end and trying again. She gives a victory mumble when it catches, drawing a deep breath into her lungs.

She rarely smokes; quit after Katherine left. But it stays a reflex and a crutch when she hits her limit. If ever there were a moment to fall into a bad habit, it’s this one.

The rush of traffic and admonishing wind tether her to the fire escape. Its biting metal carves into her bare thighs. She shifts side to side to bring feeling back, legs bouncing. “Fucking Avengers. And Vipers? What the hell kinda name is that? Vipers,” she drops her voice in mocking.

She inhales again, resting her forehead against the palm of her hand. The smoke wafts in front of her face to the window. She follows its trail inside, where Bucky turned his chair to face the bed. His hands dangle between his legs and he shakes his head. She can’t see Peter from this angle, her bed hidden behind the wall.

Either they planned this well, or Bucky didn’t know Peter went after the Vipers on his own. And then met Y/N. The one person the two have in common outside of the Avengers. What the fuck, she muses.

She stubs the cigarette out and climbs through her window, slamming it shut behind her. Both of her guests—intruders— snap to look at her. She points to Peter. “You. Go home. I’m sure your aunt noticed you’re missing. And, here,” she rips a piece of paper from her notebook, scribbling her phone number. “Call next time you wanna show up beaten so I can prepare myself and not greet you with a gun. And threats. Among other things.”

“You had a gun?” Peter exclaims. “Pointed at me?”

She rolls her eyes. “Dramatic. Get outta here.”

He scrambles to put his shoes on, jacket dangling from one side. He nods at Y/N, shoots a wayward glance at Bucky, and then dashes out the door. It shuts with a bang.

She turns to Bucky. “And you.”

“Me?”

She nods, grabbing her mug from the table. “Why are you here, really?” She puts it in the microwave, setting the time for a minute. It whirs behind her, clicking on completed rotations. She leans against the counter, leveling Bucky with mild interest.

He sighs, rubbing his face with one hand and righting the chair with another. “Mostly just to check on you, honest. You didn’t seem too well off last time I left.”

“Yeah, I mean, why would I be? One second I’m knocking Chuckles’ head against the table, the next your pal is tailing me to Manhattan. And then you show up, and, full offense, it all goes to hell from there.”

Bucky squints. “Chuckles?”

“You can’t make fun-a someone’s nickname when yours is ‘Bucky’, okay?” He shrugs. The microwaves beeps and she grabs her coffee. It warms her fingers and she holds it close. “You said ‘mostly’. What else you here for, Barnes?”

He drags his finger around the rim of his mug, contemplating. “We identified the bodies.”

Her hand stops halfway to her lips, mug hovering in the air. A chill wracks its way down her spine, ending at her toes and shooting back up. “Oh,” she says dumbly. “Um, who were they?”

Bucky taps his point finger on the rim before looking up. “I can’t tell you. But this just got a lot more complicated. I came here to say, if you wanna bow out, you can.”

Y/N scoffs. “Really? You drag me tooth and nail into this and now you want me out? Can’t even tell me why?”

“Listen, you don’t wanna be a part of this, anyway,” he justifies. “I told the team we’d give you the choice.”

She shakes her head in disbelief. “It’s not much of a choice, is it? I’m already in this. Stark knew I wouldn’t let this go when he sent your boy after me, and then you, and then Wilson. If you can tell me why you want me out, I’ll consider it. If not?” She shrugs.

Bucky groans. “You’re too stubborn for your own good. I can’t tell you. Top secret and all that. You’re sure, Y/N?”

“Listen, even if you stop showing up and taking my hard work, I’ll still work the case. So I guess the choice is yours, really, if I still put up with your ancient ass.”

Bucky chuckles. She ignores its warm reverberation in her chest, choosing to gulp her drink. “I dunno why they sent me after you. You and Sam woulda gotten along great.”

“He chose the wrong place to meet me. At least you broke into my apartment. Cornered me in private. Frisbee and Wings wanted a conversation in front of people. Can’t have a secret identity if I got superheroes shouting it to the city, ya’know.” She ponders for a moment. “Should’ve sent Black Widow after me. I’d do just about anything for her.” He squints, a small smirk dancing on his lips. “What? Everyone’s a little in love with her. I love someone who looks like they could snap my neck.”

He flexes his left hand by his side. She averts her stare. “Anything else for me?” she whispers.

“Nah. You?” She nods to the notebook. He slides it over and flips through it. “More organized than the last one, I’ll say.”

She doesn’t respond, setting her mug down. While he reads her notes she tugs a sweatshirt over her tank top. It puts a wall between her and Bucky. He’s too comfortable in her space, she decides. And she’s too okay with him being here, although that she won’t admit.

He finishes her notes, closing the book. “We’ll look for irregular police scanner emissions; good idea.” He stands. “Don’t drag Peter into this.”

She sighs. “He’s already in it, though, isn’t he? Stark tried to keep him out, and look where that got him. Darkening my doorstep twice.” She shakes her head. “Nah, it’d be safer to keep him in the loop. ‘Least he’ll feel like he’s doing something. Give him busywork.”

“Yeah, Stark won’t go for that.”

“Then he’ll be scraping Peter off the sidewalk. I’ve known the kid two seconds and I know what stubborn looks like. He’s got it written across his face, plain as day.”

“Yeah, you know it so well ‘cause you see it when you look in the damn mirror.”

She hums. “Maybe so. Either way, he ain’t gonna stop.” Bucky says nothing. “All right, now it’s your time to get outta here. I got shit to do.”

“Like what? Wallow? Pick up more stray kids on the street? Oh, no!” he exclaims. “You got another costumed hero to meet? The betrayal,” he gasps, feigning offense.

She shoves at his shoulder. “Gotta have more than one in my pocket, ya’know?”

He smiles and whispers, “Yeah.” She waves to the window. “All right, I’m going. See ya soon?”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

He rolls his eyes, one leg in her apartment and the other on the fire escape. He looks back, staring for a moment. “Be safe, okay?”

“Yeah, you too, Robocop.”

She awaits the return of a quip, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he nods again and withdraws his other leg. The window screams shut. He waves and jumps over the edge.

“Show off,” she mumbles with a soft smile.