#again bizarre ass assignment we had to do?

[hoaxghost]

We never even talked about this project in depth or had it come up, why did he make us do this

[ashprompts]

𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

a collection of sentence starters from dropout tv's game changer. feel free to alter pronouns/text as you see fit

“I’ve been here THE WHOLE TIME”

“It’s hard to hold this much anger in my body.” 

“If you never hear from me again, you know what to do!.”

“If they don’t find me it’s because I was chopped up and fed to the pigs!”

“I SOLVED YOUR LABYRINTH, PUZZLEMASTER. THE MINOTAUR’S ESCAPED, AND YOU’RE GONNA GET THE HORNS, BUDDY”

“I. CANNOT. WIN!!!!”

“A lot of people have been saying that ___ is a singularly evil, wildly incompetent, befuddled nepo baby silver spoon motherfucker. This is what people are saying.” 

“If you can do ONE swing on the swing I will let you play with all the math puzzles that you want” 

“You’re not getting a FUCKING JOKE OUT OF ME until you let me out of this room! You want bits?! You let me out of this room for bits, motherfucker!”

“Are we gonna die before we get outta here?” 

“I’m gonna lose so fucking hard it’s gonna blow your fucking mind”

“But in this sick rodeo, this bizarre fucked up clown festival, we’re here celebrating what I can only describe as the sickness at the core of America.” 

“Give me the assignment and I don’t miss. I’m gonna DIE before this is over.”

“Your tower’s gonna fall. Laugh it up now.” 

“A river of sweat is running down my back right now.”

“I do hate zombies and I will have nightmares about this tonight. But in this moment I just feel like I’m surrounded by friends.” 

“We don’t give a cum.”

“If you’re in a hole, DYING. I WON’T BE THERE.”

“I showed them my feet, [name]! I SHOWED THEM MY FEET FOR NOTHING?”

“Stop shaking your cock in the middle of a fucking huddle, dude!”

“I’d fuck that pie.”

“If you’re like me, you eat a lot of ass.”

“I hate capitalism but I also hate losing.”

“I get my tongue so far up somebody it’s like I’m tasting their tonsils. I get so deep in there I’m gonna burn myself with stomach acid.”

“I like perching like a little bisexual gargoyle”

“If you were performing on a subway I would take money away from you.”

“I’VE ONLY JUST BEGUN TO PULL THE THREAD ON THIS SWEATER.”

“Icarus flying too close to the sun, but it seems Daedalus our little mastercrafter over here had some WAX WINGS OF HIS OWN, didn’t he? Wanted to see his son fall, faaaalll from the sky, OH HOW CLOSE TO THE SUN HE FLEW”

“Hey can I get an ah? … Don’t scream at me.” 

“You kinda have the vibe that your kids call you by your first name.”

“The day I DON’T curse when a body falls from the sky, call somebody.”

“Could I place an order? I’m hungie. What do you think would be the best pizza to order if I’m quite hungie? Um, I like cheese, what is your largest pizza? Yeah let’s get an extra large because I’m hungie. I’m hungie, I’m hungie, I’m hungie.” 

“WE ARE NOT ANIMALS!!!”

“So long as I am on this stage and drawing breath, you can good and goddamn believe I’ll be trying my best in every challenge.”

“Was it bad that we just started smashing shit?” 

“You didn't count on INGENUITY did you motherfucker?!”

“FIGHT THE BOURGEOISIE. I WILL VENMO YOU $20.” 

“This could be hell. This is very Satre-esque.”

“YOU ARE NOT GOD. THE MACHINE IS GOD.”

“Can you tell us why you’d do this to us?”

“I won’t be made a fool”

“I do feel like I’m in a nightmare”

“I’m the only one OUT of the loop it seems”

“Everybody do the wenis! The wenis is a dance! Everybody is a genius! Who knows it in advance!” 

"DANCE IS A SIN!"

"You think I'm gonna fucking roll over?!"

"It'll be a COLD DAY IN HELL when I go out like a fucking chump!"

"I don't care about winning, I just don't wanna lose"

[elfrowan]

We Are Not Alike by According to Hoyt

This is a post I should not have to write. Mostly because it’s self-obvious. But it took ME a while to figure it out, so– Here it is.

First let’s dismiss the entire “it’s an hoax” because that’s just the left (broadly defined as to the left of Lenin) being their usual lunatic selves. I’m not even going to respond to the self-proclaimed surgeons or the self-proclaimed ballistics experts on twitter. I’m going to say that if they had even minimal contact with reality they’d realize that even fragmenting ammo does not fragment in contact with ear cartilage (not enough resistance) and no, having a bullet graze you doesn’t mean your head explodes. I don’t actually know whether to advise them to put down the crack pipe or stop watching Merry Melodies. I feel like someone should tell them safes don’t randomly fall out of the sky, nor pianos from upper-story windows, but from the ones I’ve seen on twitter they’d fight us tooth and nail on that too.

There is a much easier way to put their bizarre fantasies to rest: For the whole thing to be a carefully orchestrated false flag, you have to believe that Donald Trump — DONALD TRUMP — is as carefully self-controlled and obedient to choreography as a trained dancer.

I’ll wait till you stop laughing and then give you the graphic again, about how closely, and by a random turn of the head, America escaped a bloody civil war last Saturday.

But sure, cooly-oh, if you believe Donald effing Trump timed the turning of his head precisely, after the bullet had already been fired by an untrained 20 year old sniper…. Oh wait, if you believe that you’re probably jonesing to vote for socialists, so it fits.

As for “all an hoax” you’re requiring that everyone there, including the secret service which is not only controlled and assigned by the present administration, but who also are being dragged through the mud for malice and incompetence, be complicit on this. This includes the family of the man who died. If you really believe that, get out of here. You’re not serious and not only are you a f*cking infant, you’re a moronic f*cking infant. Shut up, child, the adults are talking.

Then there is the outrage and certainty that he should not have got up and pumped his fist, because “ree” he’s keeping his secret service in danger to grandstand. First, if the secret service can’t drag a 79 year old man (and themselves) out of danger (and remember their JOB is danger, their concern is supposed to be their detail) they need to find another job. Yesterday. Second… I realize that none of you EVER were responsible for keeping any group that was in anyway connected to you from doing the inadvisable. BUT–

If Trump hadn’t immediately got up and done that, we’d already be in a civil war. Before news that he was all right could have gone out, people would have gone hot. And listen, you have no idea. You really have no idea.

And no, it’s not a Trump cult. It’s a “if they could get him, they’re coming for me next” “Nothing to lose.” “I have plans in place for this circumstance.” Do I know anyone in the group that would do that. Not explicitly. But I have guesses about a rough three to four dozen of my acquaintance. And I know the psychology.

Look, even after he got up and pumped his fist, I found myself — I was cleaning the house and away from the computer. I have already promised never to do that again — calming people on texts with “No, from the video he’s not in danger. Stop worrying” until I gave up (my kitchen is still a mess) and got on the keyboard.

But speaking of psychology, we get to the important part of this post.

There is very little my colleagues in Science Fiction and Fantasy do that shocks me. Even the politics from the left side of Judas’s ass does not shock me. I’ve read (or at least skimmed) their books, and the flaws are right there, in the worldbuilding that behaves like no real world would behave ever, unless it were utterly contained inside the broken clockwork mind of Marx.

But there was a take that propagated like lightening through the left side of science fiction, echoed by some people who probably once had functional brain cells of a sort, that made me kind of rock back on my heels. This was based on the would be assassin’s registration (voter registration isn’t politics. My husband and I have different ones, and yet we’re about the same.) And it was…. ahem “Why should I care if Trump was shot at by a right winger?”

This was completely puzzling to me because, well… I can’t picture a scenario in which anyone who is broadly to the right of Lenin would try to shoot the candidate of the party opposing the Junta. Not vote for him, maybe. Shoot him? That requires a completely different level of passion and animus. Unless these people were completely insane, I couldn’t figure out why people otherwise capable of writing three coherent paragraphs would even say that.

But then I flipped it.

Look, is it believable that say, advocates for “Palestine” would shoot Joe Biden, for being insufficiently anti-Israel? Well, sure. Is it possible trans advocates would shoot Joe Biden because in their eyes he was insufficiently pro-trans? Or radical communists who think he’s a right winger? Sure. Of course.

But here’s the thing. We’re not the same.

Sure, the right has a broad tent. But it’s a tent. Meaning, there’s a ton of space, people move erratically within in — and sometimes get in hair-pulling arguments — but we’re not cohesive groups in close contest.

Why?

Well, because mostly the right in America wants to be left alone to live their own lives. With a few exceptions, what we want the government to do about our cause is “Leave us alone, and stop forcing me to act in ways that go against my perceived self-interest.” That’s it.

This means that while I think some of you people might be a little loonie on your hobby horses, it’s no skin off my nose. If you really want national currency to be gold-based, well, fine. Can’t be worse than what we have right now, though I think you’ll find it has similar flaws in the end. Or if your hobby horse is that you want to get rid of national parks… Whatever. If I were an avid camper and hiker, I’d already have groups ready to buy and maintain what I consider essential parts of them, should that ball drop.

And that’s leaving aside that I agree with many of your hobby horses. They’re not mine, but I’d go “Heck yeah”: like get rid of the department of education schools and turn education control over to the closest local level or stop dictating minimum wage at a federal level. Or “reduce bureaucracy” or…. anyway. Ahem. I don’t really have a hobby horse, per-se I have a stable, and it’s summed in Viva La Libertad, Carajo!

What I mean is reducing the federal government is not an endeavor that causes us to have MURDEROUSLY strong feelings about our leaders.

Strong feelings? Sure. That’s why our primaries are so disputed and why the left thinks we’re so scary. But frankly, we’re the people who eschewed the indoctrination of the schools, media, entertainment, to make up our own minds. We have strong feelings about breakfast cereal, let alone presidential candidates.

They’re just not the kind of strong feelings that leads to shoot them. (Presidential candidates, or breakfast cereal. The only thing I own I’ve ever considered taking to the range and shooting to pieces is my printer.)

Meanwhile, the left?

Oooh, boy. While they encompass many single-issue groups, their side is not a tent.

You see, what they’re competing from, because of their conceit of a central, and centralized government who can be all things to all people, is a finite budget and government-granted primacy. Money and power given to feminists doesn’t go to trans, doesn’t go to terrorism supporters, doesn’t go to terrorism importers, doesn’t go to parks, doesn’t go–

On top of which they believe in Marxism, which is to say, they believe in finite pie economics. Wealth can’t be created, just endlessly redistributed. And this leaks over to everything. So you know, you can’t have equal rights for women without taking some from men, otherwise women are insufficiently “equal” (no joke, when my kids were in college, email from the university. They’d achieved 65% female graduates in Chemistry. More work needed to be done to assure that females had “equality” in chemistry. And no they weren’t suggesting cutting that down to 50%. Equality for them apparently meant 100%.)

The left side of the isle is not so much a broad coalition of groups all going the same general way. No. They’re groups that resemble nothing so much as rabid weasels tied together by the tail presenting teeth and claws outward, but ready to turn them on each other at the slightest provocation. (Or imagined provocation.)

So, their candidate being shot by their own side? Absolutely believable.

What they don’t understand: We’re not alike.

On the right side, Trump being shot by a “right winger” or “republican”? is jaw-droppingly bizarre and unbelievable.

I mean, okay, there’s the never Trumpers. So, some young man was so inflamed by the immortal rhetoric of the Bulwark that he…. No. Some young man loved Ron De Santis so much that he– Barely plausible, except any Ron De Santis fan knows that’s not who would replace Trump, because the right doesn’t work that way. And Ron to his eternal credit has in no way stoked that kind of flame or demanded that kind of follower.

So, what? Are we to believe that the leaders who are genuinely snippy at Trump have that kind of following amid the youth?

Advance the Pierre Delecto Brigades, with their perfectly coiffed hair, wielding their combat roladex! Forward march.

Or perhaps: Up the Mitch McConnell volunteers, in their turtle armour….

It won’t wash. It won’t pass the giggle test.

We’re back again to “The left isn’t insane, but what they think they see on the right is just a mirror, reflecting them endlessly.”

Which sometimes requires more effort on our part to understand their “thought” than they put into those opinions to begin with.

[jodiie-leighanne]

Authors notes - Smut is back, light angst, Sub/Dom Draco. Bad ass OC.

Enjoy.

Stepping onto the platform for my eighth year is such a contrast to the first time, its nostalgic, memories of a younger me flood my mind as I sigh in relief to be going home. My family's manor is bricks and mortar to me nothing more than a cemented reminder of the world I was born into one of false smiles and high expectations. Hogwarts was my home, the foundations setting up my future where I could be myself, the unfiltered version that my parents shun. With them i have to be posed the pillar of perfection. Thats probably why I'm fixated on the way i dress and appear to others, pristine shirt steam pressed, tucked without creasing into my pleated grey and green skirt, knitted jumper also grey as it's my house code. No tie I usually throw that on just as we arrive its stifling. Socks up to the knee and a pair of tennis shoes, many girls my year wear patents with a kitten heel but that's not for me. Each strand of my dark hair is sprayed within an each of its life to sit in a sleek back high ponytail, again other girls tend to wear their down I prefer it out the way.

Pushing my way through the crowds towards my section knowing I'm late, I'm always late it's one of my quirks. The rest of my friendship group are punctual to a fault, excelling academics to make up for the mayhem they cause on daily which I also do, assignments handed in on time no smudges, punctuation checked detailed and accurate. I pay attention in class, retain information. I don't cause chaos or act up, some of the group especially the testosterone driven Neanderthal's have wandering eyes and hands during our lessons. Typical hormonal morons, the female side well we take part in extra circulars but during learning hours its heads down in a different way to after. 

Some would say we are the mean group, which isn't exactly false. I'd say it's accurate, we rule the school everyone knows us. The Slytherin Seven, a group of elite purebloods who have known each other since birth our friendships are more circumstantial than chosen, it's just all we have known.

Hauling my luggage behind me with a grunt, I definitely over packed this term. I'm not built for this hence why elves were invented but tippy isn't permitted to travel with me so here I am slumming it. Lugging the case onto the overhead shelves taking a mental note of where I left it. Strolling through the aisles to find my section, whispers start no one dares make eye contact as their hushed words echo, hearing the comments of how I've filled out over break, small smiles from boys hoping to get one in return, mentions of flings I may have their no doubts over who I was with last year. It was obvious to outsiders as well as bizarre the arrangement we had but within our circle it was normal just how we act on a daily, what you see is subtle compared to behind closed doors. We spent the summer abroad away as our families are close, I do not mind it though it's always been the two of us. He is mine and I am his, not officially that doesn't matter though.

He is my best friend - the lines are crystal clear.

Recently I've noticed them blur more and more with each interaction to the point I'm manifesting a future - with him. 

Distant giggles and chatter perk my ears as I recognise the voices quickening my pace as i slide open the door met by beaming faces, "Ru late as always darling?"

"The train hasn't left yet Zabini therefore I'm on time", the dark boy chuckled with a shake of his head standing to greet me with a signature Blaise bear hug I was taller than most girls in our year but nothing out of the ordinary, still managing to nuzzle my way into his neck inhaling as he squeezed tighter, before being forcefully dragged off me and shoved to the side, behind him stood Amber Lanham my best female friend, she squealed leaping into my arms causing me to stumble slightly.

"Bitch, you look amazing", clutching my shoulders to rake her eyes up and down my fuller figure, blush crept my cheeks as she gazed. Halting wide eyed at my chest, "Are these real?", pointing at my now grown chest with a cheeky grin copping a handful to make them jiggle. Bashfully giggling I swatted her hands off, approaching the rest as my hues cast across the table I spotted Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott...

"Where's Malfoy?", furrowing my brows in surprise at not seeing the prince himself front and centre.

"Somewhere getting his dick wet most likely" Theo chirped calmly, slinging his arm around Pansy's shoulder dragging her closer to be met with a scoff, eyes rolling to meet mine with a wink. Pans is a hard pill to swallow; she comes across bitchy deep down she is softie with a big heart and a hunger for all things female. Years I watched her chase Draco around like a lost puppy only to be shocked at a fifth-year party seeing her straddling a blonde with blue eyes, lesbian Pansy unlocked from that day forward, making our bond form. She was similar to Amber, I enjoyed surrounding myself with strong feminine energy, ball busting women. Daph was an exception bless her soul, couldn't threaten a fly. With a pack of rottweilers ready she never needs to threat. 

The males well they start for two reasons, we need the comedy value all except are broody babe he has his golden moments which are rare but when they happen its unforgettable. Second reason all three are fucking beguiling sights to be surrounded by, therefore they stay. 

"Poor sods been celibate all summer, he was away with his parents. Apparently, pussy was dry there" Blaise chortled, receiving a high five from Nott.

He definitely wasn't, and as for the later - quite the opposite.

Snickering as my eyes rolled, "Well, I'm going to hunt down the trolley she is probably at Ravenclaw by now"

"Grab me some jellied slugs Ru"

"Theodore, you have six packs"

"Your point is?"

Huffing a laugh, I headed off in search of a snake, not slugs. "Sure, won't be long"

Hips swaying as I walked towards the back end of the train checking each carriage as I pass that's when I saw him, fuck he looked as good as he did a fortnight ago. Muscles strained in his shirt; jaw strong in contrast to the soft aristocratic features he holds. Clenching my thighs to relieve pressure as I gnaw my lower lip - fuck the things he does to my body

Palm braced against the wall, sweet little blonde trapped between as he stroked her hip with his thumb, nose running along her cheeks. Whispering in her ear as she blushed giggling at the ground, not brave enough to meet him head on.

Confidently edging closer, I swing open the door to the toilet whistling a tune that he would know, his sterling's snapped up to my browns a smirk prominent on both our faces as I shot a wink disappearing into the bathroom shutting but not locking it.

He cannot resist me.

Hastily I removed my jumper then unbuttoned my shirt to reveal some cleavage before scandalously reaching under my skirt sliding my knickers down my legs and concealing with the crumpled knitwear. Jumping up on the counter crossing my legs, the handle bent down with a click as the wood swung showcasing who id been waiting for - "Feeling adventurous Clancy?", brow quirked as he licked his lip leaning into my body wasting no time pecking my jaw running tracks down my neck. We had a rule no mouth kisses, sex was well sex but kissing its far more intimate in fact id yet to share that with anyone. The school harlot that won't kiss, nothing was off limits except that.

Repeating what he did to another only moments ago, his angular nose ran up the curve of my jaw to reach his mouth to my ear, "Are you ready for me Ruby?", octaves of his voice dropping causing him to sound more delicious than normal. Pulling back his intimidating stare met mine swirling to create an intoxicating cocktail of lust.

"Always am baby", uncrossing my legs to spread them, words laced with seductive inviting tones he faltered for a moment before grinning as his left hand crept up from my ankle up to my core hissing with what he discovered, forehead dropping to my shoulder. "Fuck your wet love, who did this hmmm? Tell me who made you drip like this?"

Fingers snatching his jaw to make him look at me, "You, you did this to me"

Never did a Malfoy kneel not for anyone, until now the blonde dropped to his knees face squishing between the plump flesh burrowing his way to my heat, slapping my thighs with a groan "One day Ruby Clancey I'm going to fuck these" kneading the skin roughly, how he speaks to me is enough to have my body writhing in need. Hungry for him, apparently, I'm not the only one who's peckish without warning he dove directly into the warmth of my centre moaning deeply as he nibbled, dragging his tongue through my folds sucking my sensitive bud into his mouth repeating the actions over and over.

The instant his dilated irises met mine as they blew wide and rolled from the ecstasy only he could give me, the game was almost over yanking his locks from the root to make him stop, he growled in response shaking his head side to side which had me begging and screaming, "Dra-Draco I-I'm going to cum please..", slumping against the mirror in defeat as my orgasm knotted in the lower half of my stomach.

He pulled releasing my sensitive bundle of nerves, swollen from his doings. Smirk in triumph present of his face, basking in how he had me quivering, licking his lips that glistened in arousal standing to his feet. Quickly undoing his belt, shimming down his slacks and boxers as his hard erection smacked against his abdomen.

No matter how many times I see it, it always has my pussy pulsing on air.

Draco's fist sheathed his length as he stepped closer, lazily stroking himself "You want this?" I nodded feeling my torso ice over in anticipation, moving my feet to sit each side of the counter spreading myself wider all for him, his neck rolled back as he closed the gap running his tip against my slit, "This isn't very just friends of us, is it?"

"Shut up and fuck me", a noise sounded from the back of his throat as in one thrust, he breached me completely no time for adjustments as he bottomed out, lips grazing as we breathed the same air gasping from the intrusion. His hips steadily slammed his cock into my wanton pussy, he hit spots I never knew existed. "Malfoy, h-hard fuck me harder please"

Dark laughter emitted from his mouth at my pleas and cries for mercy, I wanted him to take me fuck me like a toy... Use me. "I fuck- I love how you beg for me Rubs" Plunging deeper, striving to touch my cervix as his bucks harden, "Mine, my gem, aren't you?" God that nickname had me reeling as kids we chose names only, we could call one another, he was my star and i was his gem.

"Yours always yours", digging my nails into his forearms that held him up, foreheads merged as grinned in success. No matter what it me he wants. "But you're not mine h-how's that fair?"

"I belong to no one Clancy you know this what we have is .." Shifting my palm to wrap his neck as he stutters in movement the mans a sucker for the dominance switch. "Shut the fuck up" I spat popping the P as my mouth engulfed his in hunger, showing him I'm no wall flower.

 Wiggling to make his dick slid out, making him whimper.

Pathetic.

Jumping off the side with wobbly legs as he backed up watching every move with wonder and sexual rage, Draco's knees met the toilet as I nodded with a head tilt, his Adams apple bobbed in panic. Pouting I took steps to straddle him throwing my legs over his hands settle on his shoulders as he firmly gripped my back, silently begging me to take him.

"I see how this goes; you think you have me where you want me hmmm?" Yanking his head back by the stark tousled strands, "You know I'm obsessed that's clear; I'm not embarrassed by the fact, and I trust no one around us..." Defiantly he tried to remove my touch i just held him tighter grinding my hips, "I'm a mess, I'm a mess for you. Why can't you just be mine?"

He shuddered as his tip met my clit in a battle of pleasure, "In my dreams you should see the things we do baby - fuck" Draco's hold tightened as his jaw dropped, running my tongue along his lip as I suck on it slowly in time with my hip movements. He is struggling, I'm power driven. Lifting slightly as I direct him to stare into my menacing eyes, "I know I'm going to be with you its destined"

Removing a hand to line his up with my pulsing cunt, his head shook "We are just friends, nothing more. I made that clear"

Bold move, snarling in response I nodded menacingly, pushing his tip in slightly, "Just friends yeah? Ok, let the games begin", letting my body weight drop onto him with a sigh as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

Be ready love. 

[archivallyfound09]

Call Me Whatever You Want pt. 1 (Top Gun: Maverick)

Just a drabbly thing. Still sick, so I'm writing in between passing out and taking cold meds.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader (f); Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader (f)

Warnings: language, alcohol, eventually it'll get spicy (not yet lol)

You sat back on your beach towel, enjoying the sun and the sounds of the waves. You didn't usually get a break from the research lab, so it was nice to be on assignment on North Island where every day felt like a vacation. You took a deep breath and closed you eyes, your head lulling back.

"I think you're enjoying this a bit too much," the local lab assistant had decided to join you and you laughed, not opening your eyes.

"No such thing. They keep us locked up like lab rats, I will enjoy any time I can get outside. Besides, we do all the hard work. The stick jockeys just keep breaking my prototypes." You tilted your head towards her and slid your glasses down you nose. "I've earned this."

No sooner had the words left your mouth than you heard screaming and yelling a short ways down the beach. It took you less than .5 seconds to realize it was a group of pilots. The arrogance practically shone brighter than the sun you were currently enjoying. You huffed and rolled your eyes.

"Damn pilots. Always ruining my peace." You sighed and took a swig from your beer, laying down on your back.

"At least they look good."

You turned your head and pulled your glasses down again, squinting. She was right about that. It had been a long time since you had seen that much pure muscle all in one contained area. You snickered to yourself.

"Hey, if they have to be a pain in my ass, they can at least be good looking enough to be eye-candy." You reached over, turning the music on your phone up a bit louder as the assistant next to you rolled over on her front and laughed in agreement.

----

It was about 20-30 minutes later you heard someone yell in your general direction. You were somewhat in a haze between asleep and awake as you shot up, seated on your towel.

"HEAD'S UP! SORRY!"

You barely reacted fast enough, awkwardly catching the football that was inches from hitting you in the face. Your adjusted your grip and realized that with the incoming tide, the pilots bizarre football/wrestling game had gotten much closer to you than when they had started.

You suddenly noticed that your elbow had knocked over your beer and it was pooling in the warm sand next to your thigh. You groaned at the pilot got closer, letting out a quiet "ah, dammit."

"Hey, sorry about that," he paused, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath after the run over, "my buddy's got bad aim-" he rubbed the back of his neck and gave you a sheepish look, "great catch though."

You sighed and gave him a small laugh, tossing the football between your hands. "I've got an even better throw," you chuckled as he raised his eyebrow, appreciating the challenged you had just issued.

"Come ON, HANGMAN! Let's GO!" The pilot flipped the bird to two of the other players, presumably on his team behind him. You quirked an eyebrow back.

"Hangman, hm?" You stood up on your towel, still tossing the ball between your hands and smirking. Every assumption you had deduced about the absolutely gorgeous man in front of you had been correct. Well, almost every- you assumed incorrectly that he had blue eyes and were pleasantly surprised to see green glinting back at you in this moment.

"Baby, you can call me whatever you want."

You laughed and set your feet, throwing a perfect spiral to the pilot who had just yelled for Hangman. You saw him catch the football and look up at you in amazement. He looked at the others near him and then yelled in your direction.

"Nevermind, Hangman- JUST BRING HER BACK."

You let out a breathy laugh and sat back down on your towel, adjusting your glasses. Hangman stood almost over you now and you put a hand over your eyes to look up and see his figure towering above.

"Anything I want?" He looked at you impressed and a tad bit confused. "You said I could call you whatever I wanted," you clarified, receiving a small 'ah" from him. "I'll call you, 'You owe me a new beer." You gave him an expecting look and held up the now empty bottle, swinging it back and forth.

Hangman laughed, "That sounds like a date. Tonight?" he nodded his head towards The Hard Deck down the beach. You shrugged.

"Unless I find something better to do," you quipped, laying back down and closing your eyes. You heard the pilot laugh hollowly and then jog back to the game. You could feel the eyes of the assistant next to you boring into your skull.

"What?" you finally asked, breaking the tense silence between the two of you. She was dumbfounded. "I don't usually do that, but he messed up my vacation today." She snorted and the two of you broke out into peals of laughter, both fully aware that all Hangman had done was ADD to the enjoyment of the beach.

-------

You figured by 9:30p, Hangman would have all but lost hope that you were coming by the bar. You didn't generally tease attractive men, but this was different- he was a cocky, self-centered Navy Pilot. He deserved it. Or at least, that's what you kept telling yourself as you pushed open the door to The Hard Deck.

You had been here once of twice before. A Friday welcome drink after all the orientation and a very poorly executed karaoke night led by some of the older prototype testers. You headed for the bar, which was a relatively difficult task considering how full the bar was. You were able to catch Penny's eye and she nodded, knowing you were somehow familiar, but not one of her regulars.

"Just whatever's on tap, please." Penny nodded and turned around to grab and glass and pour from the spout a few feet away. You suddenly felt a warm body behind you. You tried to step away when you realized the man behind you had put his arm on the bar and was leaning down to catch a glimpse of your face.

"Hey Penny! Her drinks are on me!" The voice did not match the one you had met earlier, so your head ripped back to see it was one of the other pilots who had been at the beach. He smiled at you, putting his sunglasses into the pocket of his Hawaiian shirt.

"I don't know what you said to him, but Hangman played like shit after he bumped into you. The least I can do is cover your tab for giving us the edge in winning today." You laughed and Penny slid your beer across the bartop. You grabbed it and held it up, nodding to the new pilot still incredibly close to you.

"I'm Rooster, by the way. If you're up to it, the rest of the team would love to say thanks as well. It takes a lot to throw Bagman off his game."

You chuckled and nodded again, suddenly keenly aware that Hangman's eyes were on you from across the pool table. You smirked and raised the glass, saluting him.

-----

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4- Rooster

Part 4-Hangman

Part 5

[writingtoforgetreality]

Speak Of The Devil (Malcolm Bright x Winchester!Reader) | Prodigal Son/Supernatural Crossover

[Prodigal Son-Masterlist], [Supernatural-Masterlist]

Summary: What started as a normal case for the NYPD ended in you needing help from your family. Malcolm had never met your brothers & they had no idea you were dating. Things were bound to get complicated, it was inevitable. Still, you had to focus on this case before another person got killed.

Words: 5,557

Warnings: spoilers for 2x02 (doesn’t follow the actual plot obviously), murder, demons, language, confused Malcolm, lil hint at Destiel (barely there, could be missed if you don’t pay attention - sorry, I couldn’t help myself), I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun while writing something

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

The NYPD was assigned to solve a “creepy ass case”, as JT so lovingly put it. As Malcolm & you got to the crime scene, you understood what your fellow coworker had warned you about. Ugh, you hated churches with your guts. Well, that was not entirely true. But whenever a murder happened on a holy ground, nothing good ever came out of it. That was what you experienced before you started working for the police. Before that…you also worked for the police somehow? Just, they were not aware of that & you might have done some criminal things. For the greater good, though! Your brothers & you had saved thousands of people. They still did. You just needed to get out of this life & see if there was more for you to achieve. And there was. Not only did you find a great family who was also your team, at the same time you found Malcolm, your boyfriend.

Back to the case. Walking into a crime scene had always been bizarre to you. It showed you how close you still were to murder, even though you promised your brothers to distance yourself from it entirely. Technically, you did. This was different, though. At least you told yourself so. Gil, JT, Dani & Edrisa were already inspecting the scene when you two walked in. Oh no. This could not be good. The image in front of you seemed familiar & if it were not inappropriate to roll your eyes at a dead person, you would do it. Gil briefly explained the situation to you. Apparently the victim had been a member of the church for 30 years. The Lieutenant & Malcolm interrogated Sister Agnes. She was the one who found the body. There was another thing bothering you, so you did not really pay attention to whatever she was saying. Your focus was solely on JT, who had been through way too much to stand here & act as if everything was fine. A slight touch on his shoulder made him turn his head in your direction.

“Hey, you okay?” of course you were concerned about him. He was family, after all.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” he brushed you off as if he did not know what point you were trying to get across.

“Really? Because usually when Malcolm says he’s fine…well, he’s everything but.” a chuckle lightened the mood a little. You had to keep a closer eye on JT for the time being. Just in case.

“Our victim here performed an exorcism.” Malcolm’s statement let your eyes snap back to where he was standing. Edrisa smiled excitedly at him. This woman…She was the sweetest soul. Could be annoying, too. But in a sweet & loving way. Maybe she should turn down her excitement for murder. Who were you kidding? Your boyfriend was probably worse when it came to that. Wanting to have a closer look at the book Malcolm was referring to, you put your gloves on & carefully walked over to him. Trying not to mess up any possible clues left behind by the killer.

“Can I have a look?” you gestured to the small book & Malcolm handed it over to you. Shit. If you remembered correctly, there was a similar one back at the bunker. A look inside the pages confirmed your assumption. No need to freak out right away. There were tons of crazy people out there. Just because of this murder in this church & this book did not mean that there was anything supernatural involved. You just hoped it would stay that way. For everyone’s sake.

Your face fell when Edrisa said that there was a note left behind, written in blood. To the others, it looked like a sign without meaning. It looked familiar to you but you could not quite pinpoint where you remembered it from. Sister Agnes’ words made you stop in your tracks.

“Abaddon.” she breathed out. Sure, why the hell not? Okay, maybe this case was something for your brothers. But wait a damn minute…last time you checked, Abaddon was stabbed with the First Blade. She could not possibly be back, could she?

“Now we know our killer’s name.” Malcolm’s words gained the attention of the entire team. There was no way he had everything figured out already. You knew he was a great profiler but even that would have been too fast for him.

“Oh? Who is it?” Gil asked intrigued.

“You know.” Malcolm paused for a few moments. Probably for dramatic effect but what did you know? “The devil.” you could not help but laugh at his words. Great, now everyone was looking at you weirdly. Oh, he made a joke. Of course he did. Sometimes you forgot that you were not an active part of the hunting life anymore. A few coughs from you stopped the awkward tension in the room. At least a bit.

In no way did you want to defend Lucifer. He had made your life literal hell one too many times. But even he would not go as far & do something as cruel as this. Again, last time you checked, he was dead. But death did not agree with Lucifer. How many times had he died? You probably should not be the one to judge. You were not better by any means.

Excusing yourself to get some fresh air, you grabbed your phone out of your pocket. Hopefully he would pick up. It had been a while since you last talked. The phone rang & rang & slowly you lost hope. Maybe he really was mad at you for being radio silent for so long.

“(Y/N)?” his voice startled you slightly.

“Sam! Uh, hi.” suddenly you turned shy.

“It’s so good to hear from you! How are you?” he was happy that you decided to call after so long.

“I’m good, thanks. Actually, I need to ask you for a favor…” you started.

“What is it? Everything alright?” Sam was growing concerned. Back then, you hated relying on another person, too stubborn to ask for help, because you wanted to do everything on your own.

“There’s a case here in New York…I believe it’s your kind. And I genuinely don’t think I can deal with this on my own.”

“But you’re safe, right?”

“I am, as safe as one can be.” you chuckled. Working for the police & all that. Not that you would tell Sam on the phone. If they were to come by, he would find out sooner or later. “I’ll send you the details, alright? Be here as fast as you can.”

“Okay, no problem. Take care, okay?”

“You too. See you soon.” wow, you were about to see your brothers again. Hopefully everything would be fine & nobody would rip your head off.

“See you, (Y/N).” Sam ended the call & you let out a breath you did not know you were holding.

The phone call should stay a secret for the time being. People breaking out in panic was everything but convenient. Besides, you did not need your team looking at you like you were a lunatic. Malcolm explained possession trance disorder when you joined everyone again. How could one human being know so much about so many unimportant things? Like, this man was a human dictionary. Looking over at Gil, you had to grin by how hard he was trying to make sense of what Malcolm was saying. Gil noticed you staring at him & gave you a look. The one that made you not want to mess with him. Still, you laughed shortly, you could not keep it in any longer. Malcolm gave you a questioning look but you simply shrugged him off by a wave of your hand.

The last interrogation of the day was with the guy who was currently doing the painting job inside the church. Unfortunately, you did not get any more information. Everything he told you, you had already heard from the others. Basically, after interrogating everyone, you were certain that this was not a common case for the NYPD. And you were more than happy that your brothers were on their way to come over. How would you explain any of this to Malcolm? He knew you had two brothers but you had also told him that you were not necessarily talking, only when it came to emergencies. Great, Malcolm would freak out. Even more so than normal, probably.

“Why do we have to visit your father again?” you shot the question at Malcolm as you were walking over the psychiatric yard, looking for Martin. He rolled his eyes at you, exhausted by your constant questioning.

“I’ve explained it a thousand times, (Y/N).”

“Well, I don’t see how any of this is connected to him.” you argued. Whenever Malcolm had the great idea to visit his father, you tagged along. Simply because you knew it was always hard for him & you wanted to support him wherever you could. Right now, though, you were losing your patience. After all, you knew the cause of this case. But your brothers had yet to arrive so you should play along for now.

“Malcolm, my boy. (Y/N)! Always nice to see you.” Martin started, excited to see his son accompanied by you. The first time you visited Martin, he took an immediate liking to you. Probably because he could see that you were good for Malcolm & his son meant the world to him. Still, he was a narcissistic psychopath. Remembering clearly how he had told you that everyone had flaws during your first meeting. Ah, good times.

“I wish I could say the same, Dr. Whitly.” a sarcastic smile plastered on your face. From then on, you let Malcolm do the talking, not really paying attention to what he was saying. Your thoughts were with your brothers, hoping they would get their asses here quickly before you had to endure more of this bullshit. It was frustrating when you knew how to solve this case but there was nobody you could talk to, not about this. Malcolm desperately tried searching for a non-supernatural explanation. Of course he did. And you just stood by, not being helpful at all. Malcolm did notice your quietness but did not comment on it. Not when you were with his father. He would ask you later today, when you were back at home.

Sam sent you a message earlier today, asking for your address to meet up. This meant that they would not take much longer. The knock on the door was confirmation enough. Malcolm walked over, ready to open it & you did not have enough time to warn him. Oh, this was bound to be fun.

“Uh…Hello?” Malcolm, everyone. Great first impression.

“You’re not (Y/N).” you could make out Dean’s voice. Walking up to where Malcolm was standing in the doorway, you looked over his shoulder & smiled at your brothers. They really were here, it had been too long. Softly pushing Malcolm out of the way, you pulled both of them in a long overdue hug. It was only then when you realized how much you had missed them. Malcolm observed the interaction from afar, confusion obviously shown on his face. Right now, you could only focus on the men in front of you, though.

“It’s good to see you guys again.” smiling widely at them. Sam nodded at you & even Dean could not hide the small smile that was forming on his face.

“I’m sorry…Can I help you guys?” Malcolm spoke up, waiting for answers from either you or the strangers that now entered his apartment.

“No, but we’ll help you.” Dean walked over to Malcolm & patted his shoulder.

“Sam, Dean. This is Malcolm. Malcolm. These are my brothers.” you awkwardly introduced them to each other. Malcolm’s mouth hang open & he could not form a coherent sentence.

“Nice to meet you.” Sam held out his hand & it took Malcolm a second to shake it.

“Your brothers?” Malcolm whisper-yelled.

“Yeah?”

“And what are they doing here?” it was not his intention to sound rude, you knew that. Yet, he seemed rather frustrated because you clearly knew they were coming over but decided against telling your boyfriend.

“Remember when I told you that they had a similar job to ours?” Malcolm nodded at you. “This case we’re working on…that’s one of their kind. We wouldn’t be able to solve it without their help.” you tried explaining.

“We have the best working team out there! Of course we could’ve solved it alone!” but you simply shook your head at him. He would understand sooner or later.

Sam & Dean sat down on the expensive couch, Dean putting his feet on the coffee table. Good thing Malcolm did not care too much about his furniture. Malcolm & you brought drinks from the kitchen & sat across from them. Dean only eyed Malcolm, though. The inevitable was about to happen, you just hoped Malcolm would deliver accordingly.

“Who the hell are you?” he was judging Malcolm & neither Sam’s elbow nudging him nor your dirty look changed the way he looked at him. What could you say? Dean was very protective of you, even after ages of not talking.

“Malcolm Bright, profiler for the NYPD.” that made the brothers’ eyebrows raise. Thank God he did not let slip that he was the son of a serial killer.

“You’re working for the police?” Sam eyed Malcolm, now being confused as to why you would get them involved with the police even though you were aware of what they had been through.

“Well, yeah. I mean, (Y/N) & I met there.” Malcolm reasoned. Great, the cat was out of the bag now.

“Seriously (Y/N)?” Dean looked…disappointed?

“Okay, wait a minute. Let me explain!” Sam & Dean nodded at you to continue. “When I left you guys, I really tried to leave this life behind. I did. But I still wanted to help people. So…one thing came to another & then I was part of the NYPD &-“ you were interrupted by Dean, of course.

“And slept around with this guy?” Dean looked Malcolm over & you rolled your eyes at him. Malcolm looked offended but stayed silent.

“This guy is my boyfriend. And his name is Malcolm.” you defended him. “And I asked you to help me with this case, not with my dating life.” looking at Dean sternly, he nodded at you & apologized. He could get caught up in the heat of the moment but you had more important things to focus on.

Throughout your talk, Malcolm sent you questioning looks every now & then. You brushed him off, telling him you would explain it later. Sam & Dean got the message & tried keeping the talk casual. Clearly, your boyfriend did not know about the supernatural & it would be better if it stayed that way.

“Okay, so tomorrow, we’ll talk to Norman & see what we can find out.” Malcolm concluded after some long confusing hours.

“Sammy & I need some sleep after that long ass drive anyway. We’ll be meeting at his house first thing in the morning. Don’t be late.” when he said that, he stared at Malcolm. Rolling your eyes at his childish antics, you slapped him lightly on the chest.

“Do you wanna stay here for the night?” you asked when they were walking to the front door.

“Um, no. We’re checked in at the motel a few blocks down. Besides…” Dean gestured wildly with his hands. “This entire apartment looks too luxurious for us. How did you get so much money anyway?” Dean asked, again motioning at the expensive looking apartment.

“It’s actually Malcolm’s…I moved in not too long ago.” explaining to both of them. Sam nodded, looking satisfied with your current living situation. Dean, of course, had another thing to comment on.

“Oh wow, (Y/N)…Good catch.” winking at you, you shoved him out of the apartment, shaking your head.

“Good night!” you said before closing the door behind them, letting out a long sigh.

“Your brothers are…nice.” Malcolm started. You winced at his choice of words. In your head, it all worked out way better.

“I’m sorry, Mal…They can be quite protective.”

“No, it’s fine, I get it. They’re, uh, very into this religious thing, huh?”

“Oh, you have noooo idea.” you chuckled.

“Why didn’t you tell me they were coming by?”

“I don’t know…I guess I didn’t want you to think that you’re not good enough for this case.”

“But?”

“But I need you to trust me when I tell you that Sam & Dean are the ones who should handle this one.”

“I trust you, you know that, (Y/N). But you have to give me permission to say “I told you so.” when we solve this case without their help.” Malcolm held out his hand for you to shake.

“Deal.” you smiled at him. Your brothers & boyfriend might not become best friends but you did not expect them to. All you wanted was to get rid of whatever killed that priest. And you knew that the supernatural feared Sam & Dean. This would be over soon.

“You sure these are the same guys who were at our apartment yesterday?” Malcolm whispered to you when you were approaching two men in suits. Not their usual flannel attire, they were working a job after all.

“Just play along, alright?” Malcolm nodded at you. He promised to trust you on this & you seemed like you knew what you were doing.

“Detectives.” Dean greeted you.

“Shut up.” you threw back almost immediately. Sam & Dean laughed at your comment.

“I missed you, lil sis.” Dean said with a genuine tone, one that made you smile wildly.

“Alright, let’s do this.” Sam knocked on the door, waiting for it to open. They introduced themselves as FBI & showed the woman in the doorway their badges. Shooting Malcolm a look as if to say “Don’t ask.” & he just acted as if he had not seen this. The woman led you upstairs to a room. She warned you to not cross the salt lines. All of you nodded. Well, all but Malcolm. The poor man could not understand a thing. Sometimes you wished you were this innocent when it came to cases like this. If it were not for Malcolm, this would have felt like the good old days when you spent your time solving case after case with your brothers. Yeah, it had been dangerous & exhausting but you still liked being a hunter. Also, the three of you were one hell of a team.

The door opened & you were met with countless geometrical lines made out of salt. Because a simple circle would not do the job or what? Fucking show-off. Careful not to mess with the salt, the four of you stepped inside the dark room. Norman’s back was facing you. While Sam & Dean simply took in the room to check for any indicators of anything supernatural, Malcolm started interrogating Norman. You signaled the boys to let him do his job.

“The salt keeps him out.” suddenly, Norman’s voice was way deeper than when he first started talking. Weird guy. Still, you did not think it was him.

“Who?” Malcolm asked in a calm voice. He was good at this. Even though he almost always got himself killed.

“The demon.” Norman said. What the hell was wrong with him? Malcolm turned around to you & found the three of you rolling your eyes. Really desperate if a person wanted to be a demon.

“He’s clearly mentally ill.” Malcolm stated quietly.

“Oh, really?” you sarcastically shot back. Who would have thought? Malcolm started lifting one of his foot, meaning to cross the line.

“Mal, wait. Don’t.” you warned him but when did Malcolm ever listen? You were not sure how Norman even noticed Malcolm crossing the line, his back was still facing you after all, but all of a sudden things escalated. Apparently, Norman thought Malcolm was a demon. He was everything but, really. He just had some demons to fight but he was not one. Norman was grabbing a lamp, wanting to attack Malcolm with it but you got everything sorted before anything bad could happen. Norman was on his way in the hospital & you were just glad that everyone was fine.

When all of you were outside the house again, Sam & Dean looked annoyed.

“Dude, we wasted time with this madman.” Dean started. “That’s bullshit.”

“Dean, stop.” you cut him off before the situation got too intense. “He was the only suspect we had. We couldn’t have known he was mentally ill.”

“We should check out the church tonight.” Sam suggested.

“Why at night?” Malcolm asked curiously.

“Oh, look how precious he is.” Dean mocked. If he kept acting that way you might as well salt & burn his bones next. Turning to Malcolm, you tried reasoning with him.

“Because we can’t risk people watching us. Not when we’re doing this.” Malcolm understood but he also planned a lot of questions for when you were back home.

“Alright, we’ll meet there later. Dean & I will take care of everything we might need.” Sam said before walking off to Baby.

“I see you took great care of her.” nudging Dean, motioning at the beautiful ’67 Chevy Impala. Another thing you had missed dearly. Countless nights had been spent in the backseat, you associated this car with a lot of happy memories.

“Always.” Dean smiled at you. “Baby misses you, too, you know?”

“I’m sure she does. After all, I had the brains. Of course she misses my smartness.” Dean shook his head at you, rolling his eyes at the same time. Saying goodbye & turning around, Malcolm gave you a look.

“What?”

“Baby? Her? You sure you were talking about the car?” oh, that was bothering him. Now you understood.

“It’s a long story.” you laughed & gave him a kiss on the cheek before walking past him. He let out a short laugh & smiled at your actions.

“(Y/N)? I think we should talk.” Malcolm started shortly after you entered your shared apartment.

“Oh no…that’s never a good sign.”

“What’s going on here?” you could tell he was serious. Fuck, you hated lying to him. One of the reasons why you had barely mentioned your brothers was to avoid questions you did not want to answer. It was now or never. Telling Malcolm to sit down, you were about to start at the very beginning. There were still a few hours left before you had to be at the church, might as well use it appropriately. Hopefully, Malcolm did not decide to leave you after opening up to him.

“So…you’re telling me that monsters are real, your brothers hunt them down & you used to help them before you left.” you nodded when Malcolm tried processing what you had just told him. “And my girlfriend saved the world more than once.” he concluded.

“Pretty much, yeah.” he was silent for a few seconds. That would be the moment he would ask you to leave.

“My girlfriend is a badass.” Malcolm mumbled & started laughing then. You joined in.

“Really? That’s all you have to say?” you questioned, not really believing that he dealt with it so casually.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m freaking out.” he confessed. “You know, makes me think of all the cases we couldn’t solve. Maybe we weren’t successful because of…supernatural beings playing a part. But honestly, it’s just another thing that got added to my plate. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Mal…”

“No, really. I mean it. Besides, now I know that if I ever meet a monster, you’re here to fight it off. Or your brothers. If I were a monster, I’d be scared as shit of them.” Malcolm finished & you laughed, throwing your entire body back on the couch. That actually went quite well? At least something positive.

Churches were creepy in general. But churches at night? That was a whole other level of madness. You met Sam & Dean at the Impala, Dean’s face buried in the trunk, looking for suitable weapons. Malcolm had promised not to question your actions & you were thankful for it. Because you had other things to focus on. Dean handed out weapons which you gladly accepted.

“Mal? You gotta promise me to stay behind.” concerning eyes met his & he knew better than to argue with you. Malcolm gulped but nodded anyway.

“You ready to do this?” Sam asked.

“I am but I think (Y/N)’s a little rusty.” Dean commented.

“Just...let’s get this over with…” rolling your eyes at Dean, you hated to admit that he was most likely right. You had not been on a hunt in a very long time but you knew you could fight when push came to shove.

The four of you entered the church silently, weapons at ready. After walking around for a while, Dean lifted his hand to stop you all. Trying to get a better look at what made him freeze, you were shocked when you saw Jonah, the painter, pacing these holy grounds. Why did you not think of him? It was quite obvious, really. Maybe you were getting rusty.

“Well, he is a demon, no doubts, but he isn’t Abaddon.” Dean spoke, quietly enough as to not get caught. “So if you guys distract this son of a bitch, I can catch him off guard from behind & stab him.”

“No, wait. You can’t kill him, Dean.” you argued. There was still a possibility of a human being somewhere inside.

“What? Why?” Dean turned towards you & tilted his head in confusion. Sighing out, you tried to talk some sense into him.

“Let Sam do an exorcism. We don’t know if Jonah’s still in there.” Dean thought about this for a few seconds but nodded afterwards. Sam grabbed an old lore book with the exorcism inside. He remembered the words by heart but better safe than sorry, right? Your plan was to stay hidden, the church was dark enough to do that without getting caught.

The demon was confused when he heard the first words of the exorcism, already struggling to stay inside Jonah. Good, he was not a strong one. Malcolm stayed close with you. Sam & Dean each took one side of the church, just in case something went wrong. Sam continued with the latin words & the demon was unable to move anymore. He was trapped in one place. That was when all of you made yourself shown to him. Hopefully, Jonah was still alive in there. If not, you had a lot of explaining to do. You already had but another dead person would make everything even more complicated.

“I AM ABADDON!” the demon screamed & you noticed that he barely had enough strength to stay in Jonah’s body anymore. Malcolm stayed in the background, simply observing & letting you do your job.

“I’m sure you wanna be, pal.” Dean got closer to the demon but not too close for it to be dangerous. “But we got rid of her a long time ago.” and it was true. Abaddon’s death was years ago. Why this demon thought to be her? You were not sure. But you also did not care. You just wanted this to be over. Sam finished the ritual & black smoke came out of Jonah’s mouth. After that, he fell to the floor & all of you ran over to him. Malcolm checked for a pulse & nodded when he felt it. Letting out a breath, you were glad that you could save him. Grabbing your phone out of your pocket, you dialed 911 & called Gil right after.

In no time, cars were surrounding the church. Sam, Dean, Malcom & you were standing in a small circle outside. Gil approached you.

“What the hell happened? And who the hell are you guys?” the second question was directed at your brothers who coughed a little, not knowing how to answer. Time to sell a little fake story.

“Gil, these are Sam & Dean, my brothers.” Gil shook both men’s hands.

“Didn’t know you had brothers.” he noted.

“Long story…Anyway, they came to visit & stayed at our apartment. They kinda overheard Malcolm & I talking about the case. Sam, here, has the brains-“

“Hey!” Dean feigned hurt at your words.

“And he pieced everything together. We didn’t wanna waste time & before I even had the chance to call you, we had already caught him.” as soon as you finished, Malcolm joined in to help with your little white lie.

“Jonah was poisoned by the lead in the paint he was using. It can cause dissociative behavior that can be mistaken for possession.” thank God for Malcolm “Human Dictionary” Bright. Gil could not argue with this so he simply went back over to the rest of the team. Nice job.

“Thanks guys.” addressing Sam & Dean.

“So that’s it, huh?” Sam asked, sad that he knew he had to let you go again. Yet, he supported your decision.

“Hey, Malcolm?” Dean looked at him. “I wanna show you something, come on.” Malcolm followed Dean to the black car which left you alone with Sam.

“He’s gonna kill him, isn’t he?” Sam laughed at your words.

“Possibly.” then he turned serious again. “I miss you.” Sam confessed, his jaw clenching.

“I miss you, too, Sammy.” looking up at him, you continued. “And I’m sorry for disappearing off the radar. It’s just…when I left, this entire starting new thing took more time than I thought it would.”

“I get it & I’m not asking you to come back with us. I can see that you like it here. You’ve finally found your happiness & by the way Malcolm looks at you? He’s utterly in love with you, (Y/N). Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will, I promise. You, too. Call me when you’re starting the next apocalypse.” you joked with him. He then pulled you into a big hug, one that you had missed so much. Sam always gave the best hugs.

“What is it?” Malcolm asked Dean, nervous as to why he wanted to talk to him alone.

“Look, man, (Y/N)’s my little sister & I’d do anything for her. So if you ever hurt her…know that I’ll beat the crap outta you.” Malcolm gulped but found enough courage to answer him.

“I love (Y/N). I’d never to do anything to hurt her. I get why you worry, I do. But she’s safe here. I promise.”

“Hey Dean, go easy on him.” their heads snapped in the direction your voice was coming from. By the smile on your face, he knew you were joking. Sam & you reached the car.

“I’ll miss you.” approaching Dean, you were more than satisfied when he opened his arms for you to pull you into a hug. He pressed a soft kiss on top of your head before releasing you again.

“Malcolm promised me to keep you safe.”

“Did he now?” turning around, eyeing your boyfriend with a smirk.

“Check in with us, okay?” Dean grew serious.

“I will, I promise. You guys take care of yourselves, okay?” both men nodded. “Tell Cas I said hi. How are you two doing anyway?” you stopped briefly to wink at him which made Sam chuckle quietly. “And bring him next time.”

“Alright, goodbye.” Dean said, laughing at you, Sam joining him.

“Bye, guys.” you waved at them when they got into the car.

Leaning into Malcolm’s side, you could feel his arm sneaking around your waist to keep your close. For a few moments, you stood there in silence, watching the Impala slowly disappear out of your view.

“Do I need to be jealous of this Cas guy?” Malcolm asked all of a sudden & you broke out into laughter. His confused face was hilarious.

“Trust me, Mal. If you meet him, you’ll know that there’s no need to be jealous.” tears were threatening to escape your eyes. The simple image of you & Cas together made you laugh out loud.

“I guess I need to trust you on that.”

“Hey, remember what you said when you thought we wouldn’t need help solving this case?” you asked him, changing the topic entirely. His face showed you that he did, in fact, not remember.

“I told you so.” you smirked at him, enjoying how his smile slowly faltered. Rolling his eyes at you, he wanted to say a witty remark. You knew what he was trying to do but before he had the chance, you silenced him with a long, soft kiss. That always managed to do the job. Pulling away after a few seconds, you lovingly stared into his eyes. This moment could have been overly romantic. If it were not for you putting salt into his wound.

“I told you so.” repeating your previous words, you walked away from him, sarcastically smiling as you did so. You were right about this & Malcolm prepared himself to hear the same words over & over from now on.

Published (04/15/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @thefictionalgemini, @prodigalsonlovingbisexual, @octopus5555, @claudiaparker30, @the-unknown-fan-girl, @popcornanon, @jasminetea-andpaisho, @anatanotegami, @blackandwhitejoker (thanks for your support <3)

[xjoonchildx]

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter six: no one but you

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you.  now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, smut

rating: 18+

word count: 5.6K

A/N: i sincerely hope you guys like the way this ends, it’s always so nerve-wracking to end a story! the epilogue to this story is posted as well and linked.  thank you to every single person who sent sweet messages of support it means the world to me.  SMUT WARNINGS APPLY IN THIS CHAPTER: oral (m/f), unprotected sex (only in fiction y’all) and hoseok thirst.

of course, i cannot post this story without shouting out some of the most supportive, killer people on this site.  you guys truly mean the world to me @ladyartemesia​ @ppersonna​ @taetaewonderland​ @hobi-gif​

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

*********************

There are perks to being the boss.

For Namjoon, it means calling the shots on the streets from his office in the sky.  Rarely does he leave the climate-controlled comfort of his pristine headquarters to get his hands dirty in the day-to-day business of the organization he runs.

Tonight, he’s making an exception.

Yoongi drives. Like a bat out of hell, as always.

It’s a thirty-minute ride from downtown Seoul to Incheon Port without traffic but Yoongi is on pace to finish it in just twenty.  Hoseok watches the lights on the expressway speed by from the backseat.  He tries hard to focus on the information Namjoon shares, the details he’ll need in order to ensure he doesn’t put himself or anyone else in danger tonight.  

But fuck, it’s so hard to concentrate with the taste of you still on his lips.  

He scrubs a hand down his face and takes a deep breath.  He forces himself to push the memory of your body in his hands and your skin in his mouth and your voice in his ear to the corner of his mind.  

Then he goes over the information again.

Namjoon wants to be in place at least ten minutes before the scheduled meet so he can figure out what’s going on before the Ssijog knows he’s there with his men.  

He wants guns to stay holstered unless he gives the signal.

He wants --

“You must have really scared the shit out of that guy, Jung,” Namjoon murmurs from the front seat.  Hoseok snaps back into focus to search for his boss’s reflection in the side mirror and finds Namjoon already looking at him. “He’s been blowing up his contact since last night, begging for personal protection.”

“He’s lucky I didn’t do worse,” Hoseok shrugs.  “I certainly could have.”

“Oh, of that I have no doubt,” Namjoon agrees.  “Someday you’ll have to tell me the story of how you managed to be outside of his apartment when his handler picked him up.  Here I was, under the impression you had the night off.”

Hoseok swallows thickly.

“Just doing my job.”

There’s a twist to Namjoon’s mouth that Hoseok can’t read and it puts him on edge.  

“Well, I must thank you for your dedication to your job,” Namjoon continues. “You’ve really gone above and beyond the call of duty for this assignment.”

Hoseok looks away from the mirror.  “Yeah, sure,” he says quietly.  

The car falls into an uncomfortable silence.

Yoongi clears his throat.  

“So anyway --” he announces loudly, “-- Jimin and Tae were able to track Kang’s texts through some internet bullshit they mess around with. Apparently dude flipped out after you left his place and wouldn’t let up until his handlers agreed to meet him tonight.”

“At Incheon Port?” Hoseok asks, glad for the redirect.  “That’s a hell of a drive for a chat.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Namjoon says under his breath.  

The car falls silent once again.

**********************

Mun Kiwoo has a reputation for being messy.

The man at the top sets the tone for the organization, and Mun is no exception.  His men are known for their brutality, his deals often go south, and by most accounts his syndicate is hanging on by a thread.

But it’s still hanging on.

Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi watch quietly from their vantage point behind a shipping container as Mun waits in the dark, cigarette in hand. He looks like an unmade bed -- shirt rumpled and half-tucked into his wrinkled dress pants.  He lights one cigarette off of another as he answers a series of calls on his cell.  

His agitation seems to rise each time it rings again.

Hoseok takes stock of the two guards Mun has at his side tonight.  They’re bulky men with huge arms and round bodies -- the kind of guys who look dangerous due to sheer size, but would be slow to respond in a physical fight.  Namjoon holds up two fingers to confirm they’re the only men with Mun and Hoseok nods.

Headlights bounce off the pavement after a few more minutes of waiting.

A black car pulls up close to the water’s edge and Mun Kiwoo ends his call just as he lights another cigarette.  

Kang Donghyuk is the first out of the car, followed closely by his Ssijog handler.  Kang is dragging his ass and even from a distance, Hoseok can make out the bandage over the side of his face.

Hope it hurts, motherfucker.

“Mr. Kang,” Mun Kiwoo’s voice is clear now, loud enough for all three men to hear.  “You have been rather insistent about this meeting. I’m a busy guy.  What do you want?”

All three men strain to listen to Donghyuk’s response, but it’s too muffled to catch.  Yoongi brings his hands to his throat to make a choking gesture.  Can’t hear shit, he mouths.  You choked him too hard.

Hoseok rolls his eyes.

“That sounds like your problem,” Mun laughs in response to whatever Kang has said.  “Not mine.”

Donghyuk gestures wildly as he tries to make his case, likely pleading for the protection of the Ssijog.   Mun Kiwoo looks unmoved.

“I’m not interested in causing any more trouble with the Gajog, Mr. Kang.  This entire situation has been a means to an end.  Stirring more shit with Kim Namjoon is not in my best interest.”

Namjoon signals to Yoongi and Hoseok that it’s time to move.  All three men step out from their cover behind the shipping container, hands in front of their bodies to demonstrate none are holding their weapons.

“Fucking hell,” Mun Kiwoo groans when he spots them.  “I don’t have time for this shit.”

His guards bow up at his side, both men reaching for their guns.  Mun has the good sense to raise a hand and stop them from pulling their firearms -- which keeps Yoongi and Hoseok from doing the same.  All of the men face off in silence for a moment, each side waiting to see if the other will do something to break the fragile peace.

Kang Donghyuk whines under his breath and Hoseok shoots a warning glare at him.  He drops his gaze to the ground and shuts his mouth.

“You say you don’t want trouble with me, Mun and yet --” Namjoon snarls, “-- you have this piece of shit working my sister. Explain.”

“You know how these rich boys are, Kim,” Mun chuckles.  “They develop a bad habit -- or in this idiot’s case, two -- and daddy’s money isn’t enough anymore.  They’re easy to buy.”

Donghyuk looks from Namjoon to Mun, panic in his wide eyes.

“They’re trying to kill me,” he rasps.

“So what?” Mun laughs.  He smiles wide to reveal a mouth like an abandoned graveyard, teeth broken and scattered.  “This guy thinks we’re friends,” he jeers, jerking a thumb in Donghyuk’s direction.  “He’s too stupid to figure out that he served a purpose and now he doesn’t anymore.  Simple as that.”  

Namjoon sucks in a breath with obvious irritation.

“I’m still waiting to hear what any of this shit has to do with my sister.”

“Ah, yes,” Mun says, stubbing out his cigarette and getting back to the task at hand. “Listen, I don’t have anything against your sister personally, okay? Lim Joowon is my son and I want him back.  He can’t spend the next 15 years behind bars. You understand that, right? Doing whatever it takes for your family?”

Namjoon utters a curse under his breath.

“I’ll give your sister some credit, though -- she’s tenacious.  I thought she’d give up after we took her digital files,” Mun admits.  “Instead she’s cost me a hell of a lot more money.  I’ve had to start cutting a lot more checks to ensure this shit goes away.”

“She’s not the type to roll over and play dead, Mun,” Namjoon growls through gritted teeth.  

“The pigheaded gene runs in the family, huh?” Mun grins. “Look, let me level with you Kim, man to man.  I don’t even need your sister at this point. I’ve paid enough people to fuck this case from the inside out.  But I won’t lie, she is my insurance.  If any of the higher-ups start asking questions about why this case fell apart -- who better to point the finger at than the sweet young prosecutor with the dirty family connections, hmm?”

Namjoon tenses, hand reaching for the gun at his side.  Yoongi stops him with a muttered warning.

“None of us give a fuck about what happens to your son, Mun,” Namjoon says. “What I have a problem with is you sending that piece of shit --” he points at the trembling Kang Donghyuk, “ -- into her fucking home. Invading her space.  You crossed a line.”

“You’re right,” Mun agrees lightly.  “It was rude. Uncalled for.  I’m gonna apologize for it right now.”

He pulls his pistol from his side and the sound of clinking metal bounces off the shipping containers as everyone pulls their guns.  Hoseok trains his pistol directly at the shaking Kang Donghyuk and silently prays for the chance to pull the trigger. Mun Kiwoo’s gun is pointed at Namjoon and Namjoon’s is pointed right back.

Then Mun’s face lights up with a bizarre smile. He swings the point of his pistol in the direction of Donghyuk and pulls the trigger twice.

Donghyuk sputters as he falls to the floor.

Hoseok and Yoongi exchange looks.  

Namjoon stares at Mun incredulously.

“What?” Mun’s nonchalance is comical.  “You wanted to do that too, right?  Besides, that guy owes everyone in the city money. I promise you, his own mother won’t even miss him.”

“Jesus,” Yoongi mutters under his breath. “This guy is fucking nuts.”

Mun puts his pistol away and his men follow suit.  Namjoon signals for Yoongi and Hoseok to do the same.  

“Consider that a goodwill gesture,” Mun says breezily.  “An official apology from me, to you.  And please pass along my consideration to your sister.  Please assure her that none of this is personal.  But I will make sure my son stays out of prison.  And like it or not, she’s going to play some kind of role in that.”

Namjoon stares off into the water.

“I can’t control my sister, Mun.  She makes her own choices,” he says after a moment.  “But let me be clear, this is the first and last polite discourse we’re going to have about this situation.  I don’t want you, your goons or any --” he glances at the bleeding pile of Kang Donghyuk on the floor, “-- paid help going near her.  Not in her office, not in her home. Nowhere. Are we clear?”

Mun Kiwoo lights another cigarette and smiles wide, the space in his teeth prominent against the gleaming ember hanging from his mouth.  

“Crystal.”

On the way back to the car, Hoseok hears the heavy splash of Kang Donghyuk’s body hitting the water down below.

He shuts his eyes against the rush of pleasure he feels as he climbs into the backseat.

************************

YOU

Something isn’t right.

You stare at the empty seat across the conference table -- the one where Hyejin normally sits -- and something twists in your gut.  She’s out sick today.  You can’t even remember the last time she took a sick day.

All morning, you’ve tried to convince yourself that it’s no big deal.  That you’re working yourself up for nothing.

But Donghyuk is out today, too.  

Vaguely, you register the sound of your boss’s voice at the front of the room. Any minute now, you’ll be asked to brief the team on the status of your case, but you can’t think straight.  You can’t focus on anything but the feeling in the pit of your stomach that something is wrong.  

Your thoughts race back to last night, back to your brother taking his men away for business in the middle of the night.

Back to Hoseok.

You try not to think about what it felt like to have his warm body pressed against yours. The way he smelled like fresh laundry and spice. The way you unraveled the moment he touched you.  

Your phone pulses with an incoming text.

namjoon: i’ve asked jungkook to bring you to the office tonight after work [ 1:25 PM ]

namjoon: a lot to discuss [ 1:26 PM ]

Your brain grinds to a halt as you stare at the messages.

It’s like everything is wrong and everything is right, all at the same time.

“Miss. Kim?”

You look up to see your boss staring at you, one expectant eyebrow raised.  You take a deep breath, line up your papers and stand to take your place at the front of the room.

****************************

The sense of déjà vu that hits you as you make the long walk across your brother’s office is nearly overwhelming.  This is exactly how this entire mess began weeks ago -- with you summoned to see Namjoon after hours, with Yoongi and Hoseok flanking him on either side.

But there is one thing different about tonight.

When you briefly lock gazes with Hoseok as you make your way to Namjoon’s plush chair, there is a warmth behind his dark eyes you can see from a distance. It’s a complete contrast to the first time you ever saw him, when you thought you could freeze to death from the ice in his glare.

You look away before anyone can catch the flush working its way up your neck.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” you brother begins evenly.  “I finally have some answers for you about what’s going on.”

“Well, I’m ready to hear them,” you exhale, taking a seat.  Your eyes drift over the papers strewn scattered across his desk.  

“We’ve learned that the reason the Ssijog want your case against Lim Joowon to fold is because Lim is Mun Kiwoo’s son.”

You raise a brow.

“That’s news to me.  I didn’t even know Mun Kiwoo had a son.”

“Neither did we,” Namjoon admits.  “Apparently this is his only son and the man he intends to pass control of the Ssijog down to.  So it makes sense that he’s so hell-bent on seeing this case fall apart.”

He picks one of the papers off his desk.

“This is the more problematic piece of the puzzle,” Namjoon says quietly.  Your chest tightens in response to the expression on his face. “Jimin and Taehyung tracked a Ssijog account making payouts.  Payouts to people in your office.”

He holds the piece of paper out to you.

“There are six names on that list.”

You take a deep breath before taking the sheet from his hands.  

Your eyes scan down the document, taking in the blows, one by one.  Two receptionists.  One paralegal.  

Lee Hyejin.  

Kang Donghyuk.  

Park Soo.

You say nothing as you stare at the list, taking in the names again.

Someone you called a friend.  Someone you’d allowed into your bed.  The boss you’d bent over backwards trying to impress.  You stare at the black-and-white evidence of betrayal in your hands, reading the words over and over -- expecting to feel sadness or rage or humiliation or something.  

Nothing comes.

“Give us a moment, would you please?”

Yoongi and Hoseok file out of the room quietly at Namjoon’s command.  The second the heavy door to the office clicks shut, he clears his throat.  “There is something else we need to discuss, Amsaja,” your brother continues quietly.  “Kang Donghyuk is dead.”

“Good.”

Namjoon’s eyes go wide at the quick, calm delivery of your response.

You stand to walk to his sideboard to pour a drink.  You have no idea what’s inside the decanter, only that whatever it is promises a burn you want to feel right now. You pour a glass and take a sip, leaning against the heavy wooden piece.

“Did you kill him?”

“No. The Ssijog beat us to it,” Namjoon admits.  “But Hoseok paid Donghyuk a personal visit at home to convey our -- displeasure -- at his involvement in this mess. He damned near choked that man to death hours before Mun Kiwoo put two bullets in him.”

“I’m sorry anyone has ever tried you because I promise you they are going to pay.”

The words Hoseok spoke in your kitchen surface in your mind.  

They’d sent a bolt of pleasure through you at the time -- triggering a kind of primitive response you’d be embarrassed to admit out loud.

And somehow that response pales in comparison to what you’re feeling right now.

A normal woman wouldn’t find satisfaction in the idea of Donghyuk cowering in fear inside his apartment.  A normal woman wouldn’t feel warmth spread through her entire body at the mental image of Hoseok wrapping his hands around Donghyuk’s throat.  You slip a finger under the collar of your blouse and search for your scar -- closing your eyes at the familiar feel of the raised skin.  

You remind yourself that you are not a normal woman.

“Hoseok uncovered Kang’s involvement with the Ssijog even before we found the payouts.”  Your brother pauses, a wry twist to his mouth as he continues.  “He can be a very determined man when something is important to him.”

Namjoon holds your gaze for just a beat too long after delivering that statement.  You look away and walk to his office window.

“Tell me what you’re thinking right now, Amsaja,” you brother says.  You can hear the sound of him pouring his own drink behind you.  “Your silence has me concerned.”

You’re thinking about every time Hyejin feigned concern for you and tried to get you to open up. The days Donghyuk insisted he take you to lunch or to dinner when you insisted you were too swamped.  The bullshit little speech Park Soo gave you the night of the charity dinner about keeping Seoul from falling into the hands of criminals.

You’re thinking about what a joke they all are -- dressing up and looking down their noses at the criminal element they claim to despise.  Wearing their fake piety like a badge of honor and paying for their fine things with dirty money.  

You’re thinking that you’d rather choose a hundred street thugs over any one of their kind.  At least your brother has the balls to wear his sins on his sleeve.  

Namjoon joins you at the window, glass in hand.  

“What I’m thinking, Jaegyueo,” you say calmly, “Is that a lot of things are starting to make sense for me.  I haven’t felt this clear in a very long time.  So, thank you.”

A smile tugs at the corner of your brother’s mouth and you return it.

You clink your glasses together in a toast.

***********************

You are two whiskeys deep when you leave Namjoon’s office.  

Hoseok is waiting in a chair in the hallway.  He stands to his feet when you appear from behind the heavy wooden door.  

You suck in a breath as you take him in -- the sharp beauty of his face and the soft curve of his mouth and the way his suit hugs the lines of his lean body.  You realize, with more than a little embarrassment, that you are staring.

“I’ve got the car warming downstairs,” Hoseok says carefully.  “If you’re ready to go, that is.”

“Yes. Hoseok, I --” you swallow thickly,  “-- I never apologized for what I said to you.  I didn’t mean those things. I’m so sorry.”

Hoseok steps close and reaches one hand out to tuck your hair behind your ear.  You shut your eyes, leaning into his touch and inhaling his scent.

“You’ve had a hell of a night,” he murmurs.  “We can talk about that some other time.  Let’s get you home, yeah?”

You open your eyes to look up at him just as Yoongi rounds the corner and stops dead in his tracks.

“Glad this isn’t awkward,” he mutters, before turning to walk back the same way he came.

**********************

The air in Hoseok’s car is thick with tension on the ride home.

You’ve stopped pretending to not stare, eyes fixed on Hoseok while his eyes stay glued to the road.  He guides the car through a sharp turn and you catch the way he winces as his hand grips the steering wheel.  

A throb of guilt hits you square in the chest.

“You’re hurt.”

“Nah,” Hoseok deflects quickly.  “Just a little sore.”

He won’t look at you.  Why won’t he look at you?

“Namjoon told me you nearly choked Donghyuk to death,” you say quietly, studying his face for any reaction. He slows the car to a stop at a red light and rubs his fingers across his mouth, stares out of his window.

“I wanted to kill him,” he admits.  He takes his aching hand off the steering wheel and flexes his fingers as if reliving the memory of that night. “I almost did.”

That embarrassing reaction flares inside of you again.  This time it slides down your back and pools low between your legs and you have to squeeze your thighs together in response.  You shiver as you remember the promises he made while pressing his body to yours.

“Tell me what you want. I swear to God, I’ll give it to you.”

You’ve never wanted anything as badly as you do Jung Hoseok right now.

*************************

You force yourself to wait for the elevator doors to shut.

The second they do, you crush your body and your mouth to Hoseok’s.  If you catch him off-guard, there’s no way to tell -- not with the way he immediately backs you into the elevator wall, slotting one knee between your thighs.

“No one gets to hurt you anymore,” he groans the words into the shell of your ear, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin of your neck.  “Just like no one gets to touch you anymore.  No one but me.”

The strangled sigh that escapes you is the closest thing Hoseok is going to get to a thank you right now.  You whimper in agreement, gasping when his fingers grip your ass to pull you flush against him.  The swollen outline of his cock brushes against your stomach and you shudder.

The elevator ride is too long and too short, all at the same time.  Hoseok backs you through the doors as soon as they open, fumbling in his pocket for the keys while you suck bruises into his throat.  By some miracle, he gets the door open and both of you through it in one piece.

“Fuck,” Hoseok swears as you wrap your arms around his neck, grinding against his insistent cock.  He has to drag you both into the bedroom as you press against him like a dead weight, teeth nipping at his bottom lip as you both stumble into the bedroom.  You drop out of his grasp when the bed hits the back of your knees.

Hoseok stands back, chest heaving with exertion.

“I need you to hear you say it,” he pants.  “Please.”

You sit up straight on the edge of the bed and unbutton your blouse, slipping it off without hesitation.  “No one gets to touch me,” you breathe, reaching to unclasp your bra.  You toss it away.

“No one but you.”  

Hoseok’s eyes darken to near black.

He shrugs off his suit jacket and slowly pulls off his holster and gun, placing both carefully on top of your dresser.  Then he turns back, body looming over yours.  He cups your cheek with one large hand, looking down at you with such heat that your breath hitches in your chest.

You lean into his touch, fingertips grazing the contour of his cock beneath his suit pants.  

“You promised to give me anything I want,” you whisper, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. He nods slowly, the rasp in his voice betraying the calm on his face.

“Anything.  Name it.”

“I want to take care of you,” you say, pulling the hem of his shirt out of his pants.  Your fingers work the buttons open, one by one.  “Let me.”

Hoseok exhales a heavy breath as you open his shirt and stroke your hands down his chest. You give yourself a moment to admire the lean strength of his body, fingers stroking over the metal tags that hang just above one dark, flat nipple.

His stomach tightens and his cock twitches in his pants when you tilt forward to press a soft kiss to the golden skin just above his belt.  You work it open with unsteady hands and his pants follow just a moment later.

“I want to make you feel good,” you whisper, nuzzling the outline of his length with your cheek.  You push his boxers down his slim hips just enough to expose the head of his cock.  “I don’t want you to think about anything but this.”

Hoseok groans when you flick your tongue against him.  

His cock throbs under your fingertips through the fabric of his underwear when you dip down to tease the head with your mouth.  You lap at the salty moisture gathered at the swollen tip and his head drops back.

“Sweetheart, please --” he grits out, hands reaching for your hair.  He winds his fingers through the strands and jerks when you rake your teeth across the wet ridge under the head of his cock. “-- don’t tease me.”

Some other time you might play the delayed gratification game with him.  You might take hours to torture him and keep him dangling at the precipice of pleasure.  Tonight, though -- the only thing you want to do is make him come so hard he can’t see straight.

“I won’t,” you promise sweetly, pulling the rest of his thick length free from his boxers to wrap your warm fingers around him.  You flick your gaze up to appreciate the way his head is tipped back in pleasure, lips parted.

“Look at me,” you murmur, pumping him with languid strokes.

His eyes are glassy with arousal when he opens them to gaze down at you.  You make sure he’s watching as you take him deep, hollowing your cheeks as you draw your mouth across his length.  He gathers your hair in his hands so he can appreciate the unobstructed view of your private show.

“No one gets to touch you anymore,” you whisper.  You take him down as far as you can again, tongue dragging against the thick vein that runs the length of his cock.  You are panting when you pull off him, tongue running the seam of your lower lip as you catch your breath.

“No one but me.”

Hoseok’s dick jerks in your hand in response, hand tightening in your hair as you lick a long stripe up his shaft.  He chokes out a moan as you lick at the sensitive spot just under the head of his cock, eyes fixed on his.

“No more,” he croaks.  

You pull your mouth away reluctantly, tongue swiping at the taste of him on your lips and the sight seems to set him off.  He grabs your face with both hands, groaning into your mouth as he claims it.

He pulls away, panting.

“Lie back,” he demands between breaths.  You comply without question.

Hoseok leans over you, arms braced on either side of your body as he drops his head down to take one nipple between his teeth.  Your hips jerk at the stimulation and you squirm underneath him, thighs slippery with your own excitement.  He laves at both nipples slowly, thoroughly, until they are aching and wet.  Then he trails a soft line of kisses back up to your ear.

“I want to taste what’s mine,” he whispers, and a pang of arousal hits you so hard you forget to breathe.  You lift your hips to help him pull your skirt away along with your soaked panties and he sinks to his knees on the floor in front of you. Every muscle in your body locks in anticipation.

Hoseok nudges your legs apart with his hands, placing gentle kisses along your inner thighs.  His dark eyes are half-hooded with pleasure by the time he drapes your legs over his shoulders.

“Fuck, you look so good like this,” he groans when you are fully spread open for him.  He drops a kiss on your mound and your body jolts at the sensation, every nerve ending standing at attention.  He moves lower, long fingers tracing the outline of your swollen cunt and you suck in a breath.  

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, dipping one finger into your damp heat.  “Is this all for me?”

“Yes,” you choke out, hands gripping the sheets as his finger flexes inside of you.

“Only for you.”

Hoseok makes a sound of satisfaction deep in his chest before sealing his lips over your aching clit.  You shudder against his mouth when he pulls back to soothe you with the flat of his tongue.  “You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined how you would taste,” Hoseok groans, licking deeply into your wetness.  “It doesn’t even come close.  Nothing comes close to this.”

“Hoseok --”  your hands come off of the sheets to grip into his hair, “-- Hoseok, please don’t stop.”

Your senses are so heightened that just the pressure of the heel of his hand against your cunt is making you crazy.  His finger crooks deep inside you, stroking against your swollen walls while his lips and teeth toy with your clit.  You whine at the stimulation, at the wet drag of his tongue that has you writhing beneath him.

“You’re close sweetheart, I can hear it,” Hoseok’s voice is ragged with arousal. “Let me hear you.  Come for me.”

You clutch his hair between your fingers, moaning brokenly as the heat between your legs simmers to a boil.

“Hoseok --”

“That’s it,” he praises you with dirty words spoken in the sweetest way. “Let me taste you. Let me hear you.”

Hoseok is prepared the moment you come apart.

He grasps your hips firmly in those large, warm hands of his -- tongue and lips persistent as the live wire inside you tightens and snaps. The force of your orgasm shakes your entire body and leaves you begging and breathless. Hoseok savors every drop of your release until your hips sink back into the mattress and you protest weakly against the threat of overstimulation.

The mattress dips under you as Hoseok joins you on the bed, lips swollen with use and mouth marked with your taste.  His head dips into the hollow of your neck, nipping gently at the skin, while his fingers skate over the soft skin of your stomach and thighs.  

You shiver in his hold, closing your eyes for a moment to savor the feeling of his body on yours.

“I want to watch you come like that every day,” Hoseok whispers into your ear.  “Only for me.”

“Only for you,” you agree in a whisper, finding your voice after what seems like ages.  

You slip one hand between you, fingers wrapping firmly around the rigid cock pressed against your stomach.  Hoseok groans when you tighten your hand around him.

“Hoseok,” you breathe, feeling a pulse between your legs that seems to beat in time with the throb of his cock in your palm, “Fuck me please, I’m losing my mind.”

His hoarse chuckle sends a shiver up your spine as he moves to cover you completely with his body.  He lines up the head of his cock at your entrance and you tilt your hips up into his.  

“Please,” you plead again, lifting your head to brush your lips against his.  “Now.”

He sinks his cock into you slowly, inch by inch, groaning at the tight fit of your cunt around him.  The stretch inside of you is nearly too much -- you whimper when he bottoms out and he drops his forehead to yours.

“You okay? Am I hurting you?”

His entire body feels like a rubber band ready to snap -- coiled energy waiting to be released.  But he holds back the instinct to move until you nod your agreement.

“You feel so good,” you murmur, nudging his hips to move with your own.  You stroke your hands down the slick skin of his back.  “I’m so full right now.”

Hoseok swears under his breath as he tentatively rocks his hips against yours, letting you adjust to the feeling of him inside of you.  You wrap your legs around him as the discomfort subsides and the only sensation that’s left is the pleasant pressure of his cock against your walls.

Hoseok’s hips move harder as your whimpers melt into moans.

“Dammit,” he swears, head dropping low between his shoulder blades.  “So tight and wet for me.  So perfect for me.”

You look up to take in the sight of his perfect face slack with pleasure, mouth parted and face flushed with exertion.  His dog tags hang from his neck, swaying as his hips begin to piston in earnest.  You pull on them to force his mouth close to yours.

“Only for you,” you whisper, “No one else.”

Hoseok’s steady rhythm stutters when you whisper those words into his mouth and press your lips to his.  His hips jerk wildly as his release races up his shaft.  He laces his fingers into yours, fucking you deep into the mattress in those final seconds as he loses all control to chasing his end.

He comes with your name on his lips.

************************

Hoseok breathes deeply into your hair as you stroke your fingers across the lean lines of his chest, fingers tracing the metal outline of his dog tags.  You lie together like that for a while, skin to skin.

Your thoughts are loud in the quiet.  

You’re used to the bitter sting of betrayal by now.  

Long before Lee Hyejin or Kang Donghyuk or Park Soo ever sold you out for a check, your own father betrayed you for the bottle.  You of all people know too well that most people aren’t to be trusted.

But then Hoseok’s fingers drag lightly across your back and they bring you back to the here and now -- back to the promise he made to you tonight.

“No one gets to hurt you anymore.”

And you decide to trust just one more time.

************************

@saintjeonofbusan @lemonjoonah @illnevertrustmyselfagain @sunkissed725 @taetaewonderland @shadowhale @sugaminyoonjiji @jinhitwhore @trust-me-im-joly @daydreambrliever @jjeonjoon @ultraanonymousey @yoon-bug @multistantrash17 @poohsaidhi @alyboo-jpeg @sahmfanficbts @yoongissugarmommy @ppersonna @p-polaroid @vi-hoshi @stressedinmedschool247 @jgissle12 @ctvrty @btsnatalena @strawbewymiwk @stephleee @jalexa83 @livanthi @fantasybangtan @trviahope​ @mono-kookie@hauntedlilies @sugasaidbultaoreune @yeojaa @secret-alphabets @hodginss@parkjimin-persona​

[sisterspooky1013]

Damsels, Chapter Thirteen: You Changed My Life

By SisterSpooky1013 / Rated E

Read previous chapters here / Tagging @today-in-fic

Adult content immediately after the jump.

The trill of a cell phone pulls her from her dreamless slumber, and Mulder rolls out of bed with a hmph to retrieve it from the kitchen counter. Feigning sleep, she watches him as he traverses the room naked. The soft curve of his ass and then the rigid mast of his morning erection flood her with memories of what it had felt like when buried inside her, and she bites back a smile

“Mulder,” he says sleepily, searching for his underwear. “Good morning, Agent Wiley,” he continues as he slips on his shorts and then sits on the edge of the bed, leaning over to place a quiet kiss on her temple.

She opens her eyes, as though for the first time.

“Yes, she’s here, one second.”

He sets the phone on the bedside table and turns to kiss her again, on the mouth this time. Mulder kissing her awake is something she could definitely get used to. He stands and goes into the bathroom while she takes the call.

“Good morning, Agent Wiley,” she greets, not even caring if the other agent had heard them kissing.

“Morning, Agent Scully. Sorry to track you down on your partner’s phone, the one we assigned you was still off.”

“Sorry about that, it didn’t even cross my mind to turn it on last night.”

Mulder pops his head out of the bathroom with her toothbrush in his mouth and wags his eyebrows suggestively. She shoots him a look, but it’s discredited by the smile on her lips.

“Not a problem. I just wanted to share some updates with you. We spent quite a bit of time questioning Ricky Dean last night and while we still have some loose ends to tie up, it’s looking like we’ll be able to close this case pretty quickly.”

“Really?” she asks with surprise. She had figured the search for Mila would continue, and that Ricky might even be arrested. She’s relieved to hear that’s not the case.

“Mr. Dean had some additional documentation indicating that Mila was there of her own free will,” continues agent Wiley, “and it’s pretty compelling stuff. He also said that she left about a month before you got there, but he hadn’t yet updated the file. That, in conjunction with the documents you found, make us confident that things are as they seem, which is that Mila chose to cut ties with her parents. You were right, by the way, about Mr. Dean running a kind of witness protection program. The gentleman you had mentioned, Roger Keane, was acting as a benefactor of sorts, funding the women’s expenses until they had a steady income from the club.”

She’s quiet for a beat while this information sinks in. “What about Lexie, and her husband?”

“Mr. Hall is in custody and will likely be charged with attempted murder, on top of assaulting a federal officer. Jennifer is doing well. She’s awake, doped to the gills on painkillers, but expected to fully recover. She was able to get back in contact with her mother, who is caring for little Aubrey.”

“That’s a relief,” Scully says with a sigh. “Do you need me to come down to the station?”

“No rush, you can stop by this afternoon. I’ll be here.”

“Thank you, I’ll see you later,” she replies, ending the call as Mulder returns from the bathroom.

“What’s the latest?” He asks, slipping back beneath the sheets and pulling her into his arms. She hides her morning breath against his neck.

“They’re closing the case,” she says plainly.

“Must be pretty frustrating, knowing she was gone before you even got there,” he says, brushing his fingers over the small of her back.

“She was there, Mulder,” she lifts her head to look at him. “I lied.”

He gives her an incredulous expression and she rolls out of bed and steps into the bathroom. Switching the shower on, she brushes her own teeth with an already-wet toothbrush.

“I’m going to take a shower, I’ll tell you about it over breakfast,” she says before closing the door.

Twenty minutes later she has washed away the evidence of their activities the night before and they sit at her small dining room table, drinking coffee and eating the scrambled eggs and toast Mulder prepared as she tells him about Mila. She decides to leave out the part about their conversation on the couch; that’s something she will keep just for herself.

“I can see why you did what you did, Scully. It was a tough position to be in,” he says as he touches her arm reassuringly.

“I know it was the right thing to do, but it still feels bizarre to lie on an official case report,” she replies. “I hope she’s okay, wherever she is. She was a good friend to me when I really needed one.”

Three soft raps on the door interrupt them, and they look at each other in confusion.

“Are you expecting someone?” he asks, and she shakes her head.

“No one knows I live here,” she says as she creeps towards the door and looks through the peephole.

When she sees who’s on the other side, she gasps and makes quick work of the lock, pulling it open and ushering Mila inside with a relieved hug.

“Oh my god, I was so worried,” she muses, and Mila sinks into her, threading her arms around Scully’s waist.

“Queenie told me what happened,” Mila replies, tucking her face into Scully’s neck, “she said you lied and told them I was never there. I’m so sorry for what I said to you yesterday, Desi.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Scully reassures her, pulling back to look at her face.

Mulder clears his throat and Mila looks at him nervously, not having realized anyone else was here.

“This is my partner, Fox Mulder,” Scully introduces, and Mila nods at him, then narrows her eyes and looks back to Scully with a smirk.

“That’s the guy, huh?” she says playfully, and Scully blushes. “Look, Desi, I just came to say goodbye. I’m getting out of town. I just don’t feel safe here anymore. I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to do next, but I know my parents won’t stop looking for me.”

“We know some people,” Mulder interjects, “some friends, who can set you up with a new identity. For real this time, with a new social security number and everything.”

Mila’s expression brightens. “Really?”

Mulder nods. “Let me give them a call, you should be able to pick the documents up in DC this afternoon, if you can make it down there.”

He steps out of the apartment, heading to his car so he can contact The Gunmen, leaving Scully and Mila alone.

“So, I guess Desi isn’t really your name, huh? Or Diane?”

Scully smiles warmly. “My name is Dana. But you can still call me Desi if you want.”

Mila takes both Scully’s hands in hers, looking at them as she talks. “I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for what you did. I’m sure you could get in a lot of trouble if anyone found out.”

“It was the least I could do,” Scully replies. “I was there to help you, it just turns out the kind of help you needed was different than I thought. And you...Mila you changed my life.”

Mila looks up at her with wet eyes. “I did?”

“Yes,” Scully says, her own eyes pooling with tears though her mouth is smiling. “You helped me see myself. It’s the greatest gift anyone has ever given me.”

They look at each other for a moment, and it feels charged, like it did on the couch the other night. This time Scully breaks away, walking to her closet.

“I want you to have something,” she says, pulling down a lock box. “The code is two two three. There’s about fifteen thousand here.” She hands it to Mila, who looks at her with a stunned expression but takes it.

“I can’t take this, Desi. That’s insane.”

Scully shakes her head. “It’s all my tips. I don’t need it, nor do I want it. Please, use it to start over somewhere else. It would make me really happy.”

Mila nods, a soft smile on her lips. “Okay, thank you.”

Mulder returns just then, holding a receipt with notes scribbled on the back. “Okay, Mila, you’ll need to meet someone at the Lincoln memorial at 4:30 this afternoon. They’ll have everything you need and I promise, no one will find you this time.”

“Thank you,” she replies, then turns back to Scully. “I better go.”

Scully walks her to the door and they stand in its open frame, looking at each other for the last time. Scully pulls her into a hug and they linger there, rocking gently. When she pulls back, she doesn’t think, just presses her lips to Mila’s and kisses her twice before hugging her again. “Good luck,” she whispers into her ear, and then Mila is gone. Angel is gone.

Scully pushes the door closed, sniffing hard against her tearing eyes. Mulder is looking at her curiously, a thousand questions in his eyes that he has the good sense not to ask.

“Let’s go back to bed,” she says finally, and he turns his cell phone off this time.

[spencers-renaissance]

The Noiseless Crash of Crumbling Walls

Summary: After Derek and Spencer are paired up on a science project in their senior year of high school, they become the closest, most unlikely friends possible. But what happens when Derek finally finds out what Spencer's dealing with at home? Inspired by the prompt “where did you get those bruises?”

Tags: high school au, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, hurt spencer, protective derek, abuse, friendship, pre-slash, spencer just turned 16, derek is almost 18

Word Count: 4.6k

Pairing: Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Part Two

This is a platonic Derek & Spencer friendship fic because they are minors, but there are seeds being fairly obviously sown for part two of this series which will be set when they are both over the age of 18.

Spencer unfolds the creased piece of paper he’s holding for the eleventh time as he stares up at the house in front of him. He remembers the address scrawled on the sheet Derek Morgan had ripped from the back of his notebook earlier that day perfectly, the spiky peaks of his handwriting and the surprisingly loopy ‘y’s and ‘g’s are burned into his brain, but nerves have overtaken his helpless body. He’s not exactly in control of his actions. 

It’s not much but it’s definitely a cheerful house, that much is clear from the brightly lit windows and colourful curtains, the many gnomes decorating the front garden and the carefully planted flowers neighbouring the vegetable patch. One of the windows upstairs is cracked slightly and he can hear 90s R&B floating through the airwaves, accompanied by a female singing voice. The welcome he knows he’ll receive, though, is exactly what’s giving him pause.

A happy home is so foreign to him he has no idea how to behave. He’s used to being the adult, but tonight he has to play the 16 year old he is, and his mask is so dusty and disused he’s worried he won’t be anywhere close to convincing. 

Eventually, though, he summons up the courage to make his way up the stony path leading to the bright red front door. A brass knocker stares him in the face, but there’s a doorbell to his right as well, and the choice debilitates him for a moment, leaving him standing uselessly on the front step. He decides on the doorbell, since it’s a little more subtle, and he only has to wait a couple of seconds before the door is being yanked open and a smiling Derek Morgan is right in front of him. 

“I thought you’d never come.” His voice is bright and cheery but Spencer wonders for a moment if he’s mad at him. He’d been early when he first turned onto Derek’s road, but his over-thinking and ritualistic obsession over the address written on a scrap piece of paper had made him late. 

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, and his desperation to be understood, his clear discomfort in such a foreign environment must be obvious, because Derek’s face softens even further. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty boy,” he grins, slinging an arm around his shoulders and leading him deeper into the hallway as he kicks the door shut behind them. 

Pretty boy. He’d used the nickname once earlier that day when they were planning when to meet up for their science project, and Spencer had flushed immediately. No-one’s ever called him pretty. He’s an awkward, lanky 16 year old senior who’s far too short for his age; his appearance isn’t exactly conducive to flattery. 

The last time anyone had called him by a fond nickname was when he was eleven years old and his mother was still somewhat rational. She’d pulled him close and called him her baby boy, and while some pre-teens might have recoiled from such a name, he simply snuggled closer and tried to remember every second he was wrapped up in such warmth. Five years later, he’s so thankful he did. He replays it most nights before he drops off to sleep.

He blushes again at Derek’s easy affection, trying to relax into the warmth of his house. 

“Is that your friend, honey?” A woman emerges from what Spencer assumes is the kitchen, drying her hands on a teatowel. She looks every bit the stereotypical American mother, dressed in casual, comfortable clothes with a warm smile plastered across her face. “It’s so nice to meet you, sweetheart. I’m Fran, Derek’s mom.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” he says shyly, trying to meet her eyes but failing miserably. He can’t help that this whole experience is so out of his comfort zone it’s ridiculous. 

“Do you boys want any snacks to take up with you?”

“Are you hungry, Spencer?” Derek asks, and he internally panics for a moment. Yes, is the answer. Yes, I’m so hungry. The only thing I’ve eaten today is an apple this morning. But is he allowed to say that? He examines the both of them and it does look like a genuine offer, but will they guess that something is wrong if he says yes? It’s only six o’clock, though, so maybe he can swing it.

“Yes please,” he dares, “I haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Fran says, putting her hands on her hips. “You both head on up. I’ll bring up a tray.” 

Derek’s room is big, filled with football trophies and posters. It’s so achingly normal that Spencer’s stomach clenches as he gingerly takes a seat on his bed at Derek’s instruction. 

“I did some research that will help us with our presentation,” Spencer offers as Derek sits on his desk chair, spinning around to face him. 

It had been a shock when they’d been paired up. Derek’s friends had hollered and laughed when their chemistry teacher had paired them together, and Spencer had gone bright red at the humiliation, not that he could exactly blame them. Pairing up the skinny nerd who’d been moved up two grades with the jock who was almost guaranteed a football scholarship to an excellent university later this year had been a rather bizarre choice on their teacher’s part.

It’s not that Spencer minded: along with being the quarterback with a 4.0 GPA, he was also painfully nice. But everyone else certainly did. Every girl in their science class had sent him death glares as Derek had sauntered over to his desk at the end of class, wearing a lazy grin.

“Chill, pretty boy,” Derek chuckles as he pushes himself side to side in his spinning chair. “We got time.”

“I have to be back home by 9,” Spencer says sheepishly. He’s sure most people in their senior year are allowed to stay out later than that, and he hopes against hope Derek thinks it’s only because he’s sixteen and not that he has to get his mother into bed and try and force her meds down her throat so she won’t wake him up in the middle of the night convinced the shadows in her room are government spies. 

“Still three hours. Anyway, I’m sure my mom can drop you home,” Derek shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. Besides, we have weeks until we have to present. Why don’t we spend tonight getting to know each other? I feel like I should know a little bit about my project partner, especially if we’re going to be working together for the rest of the year.”

“The rest of the year?” His voice squeaks anxiously but he can’t help it, Derek’s completely catching him off guard. 

“Yeah. Ms Farron keeps partners from the first project together for every assignment that year.”

This is news to Spencer, but he tries to keep calm. It’s a good thing, right? Derek has always been friendly to him, and he’s intelligent, too. It’s unlikely he’ll fob all the work off onto him. But being taken advantage of and subsequently left alone is what he’s used to: ‘getting to know each other’ is decidedly new territory. Spencer’s head is spinning. 

“Oh.”

“So, pretty boy,” Derek grins, giving himself another 360 spin, “tell me what a 16 year old is doing in senior year.”

“I got moved up two grades back in elementary school,” he explains, grateful that this is at least a rather impersonal topic. “My teachers wanted me even higher but two grades is the maximum our school district allows.”

“I guessed that much,” Derek points out. “Why were you moved up two grades?”

They’re briefly interrupted by Fran’s delivery of a delectable spread for them to feast on. Spencer reaches for a cracker and dips it in some cream cheese, but as soon as he’s swallowed his first bite, Derek gives him a look that tells him he hasn’t exactly gotten away with it. 

He sighs. “The last time I was tested, I had an IQ of 187,” he admits, looking down at his worn sneakers. He’d expected to be told to remove them, but he’s glad he wasn’t. His socks almost certainly have holes in them, and laundry isn’t something he can afford to do often. “And I have an eidetic memory.”

Derek lets out a low whistle. “Damn, I knew you were a genius but that’s some next level shit,” he says, before popping a grape in his mouth. “You’re going places, Spencer Reid.” He’s saved from having to fight his blush too hard by Derek moving swiftly on. “Your turn to ask me a question.” 

Spencer takes a second to think before deciding to push the boat out, to ask something he actually wants to know instead of playing it safe. “You’re popular, star of the football team, get straight As,” he starts slowly, not meeting Derek’s eyes. “What makes you so nice? You could easily join in with your friends and be another asshole jock pushing me into lockers.”

When he looks up, Derek’s face is an array of emotions. “Kindness costs nothing,” he says seriously, and the intensity of his gaze surprises Spencer. “I saw my pops shot to death in front of me when I was ten and I got my ass kicked every day in freshman year, believe it or not. I know what kindness can mean to a person just as much as I know what cruelty does to someone.”

Spencer doesn’t really know what to say to that, but he knows that he’s finally relaxed a little. Derek’s stark honesty and vulnerability, as much as he doesn’t know quite the right way to react, is refreshing to him, and it’s made the icon of their school seem much more human. 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Spencer says quietly. 

“Thanks, man,” Derek says, a half smile crossing his face. “What about your family life?” 

Spencer swallows another bite of his cream cheese and crackers, his empty stomach thanking him for finally filling it. “My dad walked out when I was ten,” he admits, treading as carefully as possibly. “It’s just me and my mom now.”

“I’m sorry. Are you and your mom close?”

How does he answer a question like that? They’re close in the respect that Spencer cares for her and spends every free moment he has with her. But he also holds his breath every time he turns down his street, half expecting to see his house up in flames, and they’re going hungry this week because she threw most of their groceries in a nearby river after convincing herself it was all poisoned. They don’t exactly have a typical mother-son relationship. 

“Something like that,” he mumbles, stuffing another cracker into his mouth. Derek clearly takes the hint that he doesn’t want to elaborate and moves on. 

They spend the rest of the evening taking it in turns asking one another questions, ranging from simple ones like their favourite colours to deeper conversations around their future plans and biggest fears. By the time 9 rolls around, they’re lying next to one another on Derek’s bed both facing the ceiling as they trade questions back and forth. Fran’s dinner tray is now covered in crumbs, her carefully prepared spread having been demolished by two hungry teenagers. 

Their assigned topic, Enthalpy, Entropy, and Free Energy, hasn’t even been touched, and Spencer can’t find it in him to care. He could throw together a perfect presentation the night before if he needed to. Right now, getting to know Derek Morgan seems far more important. Ironically, the boy he’s only really started to get to know three hours ago is probably the person who knows him best in this whole world, and the thought makes his chest hurt. 

The jittery nerves that had consumed him at the start of the evening have dissipated into a calm companionship, and he can’t believe how comfortable he now feels. He doesn’t want to leave, but he has to take care of his mom; she’s already been on her own for so long today. 

As if on cue, Fran knocks on the door, poking her head round. “Would you like me to drop you home, Spencer?”

He feels guilty accepting, but the last thing he wants is a twenty minute walk home through the streets of Chicago in the pitch black December night. “Yes, please.”

Derek comes with them for the short drive, and Spencer feels a little embarrassed as he points out the apartment block he lives in. It’s a shitty neighbourhood and his building is crumbling, but it’s home and it’s the cheapest they can afford on welfare. He ducks out of the car and shoots them both a grateful smile. 

“Thank you for driving me home, Fran,” he says. “And thank you for a nice evening, Derek.”

“No problem, pretty boy,” Derek winks. “I’ll find you at school tomorrow and we’ll sort out another night to meet up, yeah?”

The smile the Morgans put on his face doesn’t fade until he opens the door to his apartment and reality brings him crashing back down to earth. 

⭐️

Over the next few weeks, Spencer Reid gains his first friend. They finally end up actually writing their presentation and naturally, they get an A+ but Spencer’s anxiety that Derek would want to stop hanging out with him once the project that had brought them together was behind them ended up being for nothing. Derek had fist-bumped him as they’d walked out of their classroom. “Come over tonight?” he’d asked, and once Spencer had recovered from his shock, he’d beamed and nodded excitedly. 

As Christmas comes and goes, they continue their bizarre friendship. Spencer runs up to Derek’s room as soon as the door is opened, and dives under the covers on his bed, always freezing cold. The first time Derek had cuddled Spencer, he hadn’t been able to stop smiling. He’s seriously touch-starved, and it’s only more apparent from the way he craves contact with Derek. He’s ridiculously thankful that the older boy is so free with his affection, not consumed by the same toxic masculinity that seems to plague the rest of the football team. 

It’s nearing February when Derek asks the fatal question.

Spencer had whizzed home after school and made sure his mom was okay before running over to Derek’s, breezing past Sarah on the staircase and diving onto the soft, clean bed sheets. He’s sometimes jealous of all the home comforts his friend has access to, but he does his best to tamp it down. It’s not like it’s Derek’s fault that he’s well-loved and cared for. 

“Whoa, pretty boy,” Derek chuckles as he spins around from where he’s doing homework at his desk. “Where’s that shy boy who sat right on the edge of my bed only two months ago, hm?”

“You prefer confident Spencer and you know it.” He moves up the bed a little to sit with his back against the headboard. He’s never become so comfortable around a person this quickly before but there’s something different about Derek. 

“Can’t argue with that.” He gets off the chair and moves to sit next to Spencer on the bed, lifting his arm to let the smaller boy cuddle close. Spencer sometimes has nightmares that the boys at school find out how affectionate they are with one another and call them gay after which Derek doesn’t want to hang out with him anymore. (Secretly, he thinks he might actually be gay, but he won’t tell Derek that. Just in case.)

“Can I stay for dinner?” he asks. It’s a moot point: Spencer always asks if he can stay and the Morgans always say yes, but he doesn’t like assuming, especially since he knows how expensive food is. Not that Fran has ever complained about an extra mouth to feed, though. The dinners at Derek’s house are always a family affair, full of laughter and hearty, homemade meals and Spencer likes pretending he’s one of them, just for a little while. 

The guilt that he’s leaving his mom for so long eats him up, only eased by the knowledge that she usually sleeps the afternoon away, worn out by a manic morning. He has no idea how to navigate this anymore. It was easier when the only person he had in the world was his mom, but now he has Derek and his family. And as much as he loves his mom and doesn’t mind taking care of her at all, spending time with Derek doesn’t automatically trigger gut-eating anxiety and heart-wrenching misery.

“Of course you can stay, don’t be ridiculous.” Derek elbows him playfully. “You don’t need to ask every night.”

“What if one night you don’t want me to stay, though?”

“I thought I told you to stop being ridiculous?”

Spencer can’t help but smile at Derek’s relaxed, easy grin. For some reason this popular football player with the world as his oyster and a million friends chooses to spend every evening with the nerd who’s two years younger than everyone in their year. For some reason, Derek chooses Spencer. 

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Derek asks the question. “Why don’t I come over to your place instead one evening?” It’s a casual suggestion, there’s nothing really behind it. “I’d like to meet your mom and see your bedroom. If you’re gonna make fun of my football trophies, I need some revenge material.”

Spencer freezes. He has no idea how to respond to such an innocent proposition. Derek takes his stunned silence as reluctance simply cured with a little more persuasion. “Besides,” he continues, “I feel bad that you always have to run home first before coming over here. It’s like a twenty minute walk.”

“I don’t know,” Spencer hedges, trying to buy time as he comes up with a cover story. “My mom is really particular about our space and she doesn’t really like visitors. I’m not sure your mom could spare you a family dinner anyway.” He pushes Derek playfully, hoping to God he’s even half-way convincing. 

One glance at Derek’s face tells him he isn’t buying it, but he can clearly read Spencer’s troubled anxiety expression so he doesn’t push it. “Okay, pretty boy,” he says, relaxing back into the bed, “we’ll stick with the Fran Morgan dinner delight for now.”

Something tells him he won’t get so lucky next time. 

⭐️

Spring is just starting to show her face the next time it comes up, and this time it’s completely Spencer’s fault. He shouldn’t have gone over to Derek’s. He should have made up an excuse and stayed in his shitty apartment with his mom, but he couldn’t help it. He was sore and desperately sad, and all he wanted was Fran’s comforting shepherd’s pie and a cuddle with Derek. So he’d made his way home, checked his mom was still sleeping before limping over to the Morgan’s.

He’d concealed it pretty well all day, but energy is seeping out of him and the pain is only getting worse, not helped by the decent trek across town. 

He has a key now, so he lets himself in, hoping to avoid Fran until dinner time. Luckily, he’s quiet enough to not disturb her baking in the kitchen, so he makes his way slowly up the stairs, hoping Derek is not as perceptive tonight as he usually is. He’d briefly considered using bullies as a cover story if it came up, but Derek has spent almost every moment he could at school with him the last few days, he wasn’t out of his sight long enough to really encounter anyone cruel enough for it to be a viable story. 

“Pretty boy,” Derek greets him, not turning away from the maths homework he’s finishing up. It gives Spencer a little extra time to make it to the bed like he usually does. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Spencer sighs. “A bit tired. You?”

“Training was rough today so I’m sore as shit, but otherwise I’m fine. Better now you’re here.” He turns to smile fondly at Spencer, finally locking eyes on his pale, sallow skin and defeated expression. He scrambles to try and make himself look slightly less terrible, but he’s not quick enough. “You sure you’re good? You don’t look it.”

“No, seriously, I’m fine,” Spencer tries to persuade him. “Just tired as I said. Can we watch a movie while we wait for dinner?”

Derek doesn’t look even close to convinced, but he gives in and brings up netflix on his computer. Spencer collapses against Derek and lets his eyes close as the film they choose plays across the laptop screen, but he must fall asleep because the next thing he knows, he’s being shaken awake by his friend and he’s in a completely different position. 

“Spencer, wake up,” he says insistently, and the urgent worry in his tone makes him sit up, wincing when the movement aches his core. 

“What? What’s wrong?” he mumbles sleepily, obediently sitting up at Derek’s instruction. 

“Pretty boy,” Derek says, sounding teary and a little desperate, “where did you get those bruises?” 

He freezes for a second before glancing down at himself and realising that as he’d slept his shirt had shifted, revealing his black and blue stomach. How the fuck was he going to explain this? Not seeming himself wasn’t such a challenge, everyone has their off-days after all, but bruises like these aren’t the sort of thing your best friend just drops when you don’t want to explain them. 

“I—” He has no idea what to say. Tears spring to his eyes in a terribly unhelpful fashion, and Derek moves closer, wrapping Spencer up in a hug. 

“It’s okay, you can tell me, Spencer,” he promises as he holds him so tenderly it breaks his heart. “Take your time.” 

He cries for a good few minutes — it just feels so good to let it out — but as his painful sobs draw to a close, he knows it’s time to face the music. There’s no other option. He has to tell Derek. And maybe a teeny tiny part of him actually wants to tell his best friend.

“I haven’t been honest with you,” he confesses, keeping his head buried in his friend’s chest so he doesn’t have to look him in the eyes. Derek’s hand combing through his hair doesn’t falter. “The reason I didn’t want you to come to my place is because of my mom… She’s a paranoid schizophrenic. When my dad left I became her primary carer, and I’m— I’m not doing a good job.”

Derek holds him a little tighter and presses his cheek to the top of Spencer’s head, shushing him quietly. “Don’t say that, I’m sure you’re doing an amazing job.”

“The other night she got confused because she’d refused her meds again. She became convinced that I was a spy there to hurt her. I can usually talk her down from these moments, or at least guide her to bed to let her sleep it off, but this time there was no reasoning. Eventually, she got so worked up that she shoved me backwards, hard. It sent me sprawling face first across the coffee table, and she kicked me twice before considering herself safe and barricading herself in her room.” He tells the whole story through thick tears, shoulders still shaking with pent up emotion. He wishes it didn’t feel so good to finally get off my chest. 

“Spencer, oh my God,” Derek whispers, sounding thoroughly shocked. He’s suddenly fearful that he’s going to report Diana, and he sits up, finally meeting Derek’s teary eyes with his own. 

“You can’t… you can’t tell anyone,” he begs. “If anyone finds out, she’ll be locked away and I’ll be put into foster care. I can’t do that to her and I can’t lose you.” 

Derek takes Spencer’s hands. “Okay, okay,” he soothes, making him calm down a little. “I promise I won’t tell anyone, okay? Not without your permission. But I also can’t let you be beat up by your mom.”

“It’s not her fault,” Spencer says desperately, “it’s not her fault. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, she thinks she’s in danger.”

“I know,” Derek promises him, “I know it’s not her fault, but she still hurt you. Has this happened before?” Spencer’s hung head and refusal to respond speaks for itself. “Okay, listen. I know you need to go home tonight, but come over tomorrow morning okay? It’s a Saturday and we can spend the morning figuring out a game plan and the afternoon taking your mind off it. How does that sound?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Is this… is this why you like being here?” Derek sounds nervous asking the question, clearly not wanting to offend him.

“Before I became friends with you,” he whispers, moving back to hide against Derek’s chest where it’s safe, “I went hungry a lot. We don’t have much money between rent and bills and mom’s medical expenses. I had to hide the groceries because she would become convinced they were poisoned and destroy them, but she got really good at finding them. I had to stop keeping them in my room because she would insist that I was corroborating with the government in trying to poison her.” 

“Spencer,” Derek breathes, holding onto him for dear life. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t know about any of this, I would’ve done something, I could’ve helped.”

“I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“I’ll keep you safe now. I promise.” 

When Fran comes and asks them down for dinner a few minutes later, Derek points to Spencer’s exhausted form slumped against him and asks if they can have it up in his room. She relents, and Derek manages to get him to eat a few bites of the risotto Fran had made, not leaving his safe cocoon against Derek’s chest.

He insists on driving Spencer home himself tonight, surprising Fran who had her coat and boots on already, but he escorts his friend right up to his door. “If you come in, mom will get confused,” he explains so Derek gives him a long hug in front of his apartment door instead, holding him as close as possible. 

“Spencer… you know I love you right?” he asks, expression intense and serious as his gentle hands rest on his shoulders. “You’re my best friend. I’m always gonna be here for you.”

“I love you, too, Derek,” he whispers, giving him another hug. It scares him just how much he means those five little words, all the meanings that dance behind them taking him aback. For now, though, he settles on one more tight squeeze before deciding to not procrastinate the inevitable anymore. “I should go in and see mom.”

“Yeah. I’ll pick you up at 9 tomorrow?”

“Perfect.” His heart does an excited little leap at the thought of seeing Derek again in the morning. As he walks away back towards the elevators, Spencer takes a deep breath before inserting his key into the lock on his door and pushing it open. He only has to go 12 hours without seeing his best friend. He can do this. 

His life suddenly seems like it holds infinitely more promise than it ever has. He supposes that’s the power of Derek Morgan.

Part Two 

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @hotchgans @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith  (taglist form)

[vs-redemption]

From Cindy: I’ve been in a horrible mood the past few days for literally no reason. For some reason, I’ve also been thinking about Oikawa. So I wrote this.

Cranky (Friend!Oikawa x Grumpy!Reader)

You weren’t sure how or why, but you had somehow woken up with a bug up your ass that morning. Ordinarily you were a decently approachable person, but the first sign of trouble was when one of your university roommates greeted you cheerfully and it felt more like someone poking at an exposed nerve than a warm hello. Somehow, you managed to force a smile and wave back despite the less than friendly retorts threatening to spill from your lips. The surge of unprovoked anger caught you off guard, and you knew you had to do something fast if you wanted to make it through the day without physically assaulting someone for no reason.

On your way to your first class, you stopped by the vending machines to get a canned coffee and granola bar, hoping to calm the raging monster inside of you by putting some food in your belly. Hunger did not seem to be the root of the problem though because you couldn’t make it even fifteen minutes through your lecture before getting the urge to set the entire building on fire. Your poor professor was trying so hard to plant knowledge in your brain, but just the sound of his voice made you want to box your own ears. You excuse yourself from the class as politely as possible and make a beeline towards one of the empty picnic tables on the campus grounds. Luckily, nobody was hanging around outside since it was chilly day with light drizzling rain that came on and off in spurts. You sat down on the damp seat, flipped your hood over your head, and tried to think of happy thoughts.

For a moment, you are able to empty your mind but the sound of your name cutting through the static background noise of wind and distant talking pulls you back to reality. You look up and grimace at the tall familiar figure of your friend tiptoeing awkwardly across the wet grass towards you, holding an umbrella over his head to protect his hair from the rain. He comes to stand over you with a calculating look of concern on his face.

“I thought I saw you sitting over here,” he tilts his head and puts a hand to his chin. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class right now?” There was only innocent curiosity in his question, but the slight whine of his voice made you want to strangle him.

“Go away Oikawa,” you bite out the words as nonaggressive as possible, but you can tell you failed by the pout on your friend’s pretty face.

“That’s not very nice,” he huffs. “And what’s with the last name, huh? Did I do something to make you mad?”

“No!” You accidentally snap, quickly closing your eyes and taking a deep breath through your nose. When you look back at Oikawa his big chocolate brown eyes are wide in shock.

“No,” you repeat more calmly. “You didn’t do anything. I’m just a cranky bear today.”

“Well that’s not good,” His face turns sympathetic for a moment before reverting to fear when you throw a deadly glare in his direction. “Okay!” He puts up a hand in surrender and smiles sheepishly. “I’ll leave you alone then, but can you at least promise me you’ll come out of the rain? We don’t want you catching a cold!”

“Yeahhh,” you could at least agree to that much. “Fine.” You knew he was right and that you shouldn’t be sitting out in the cold, so you lift yourself off the wet picnic table bench, the damp feeling on your bottom providing an extra helping onto the growing mountain of annoyance.

“Ok, on your way.” Oikawa’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he gently shoos you in the direction of your dormitory with an overly kind smile. You turn around to glare at him over your shoulder.

“I’m going!” You tell him sharply, “You don’t have to push me!” Oikawa quickly retracts his hand, letting out a nervous laugh.

“Hmm, you definitely woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” he hums your name thoughtfully. “Try to feel better though, okay?”

You resist the urge to give him the finger as you set off, more to put distance between you both now than to get out of the icky weather. You knew Oikawa meant well, and normally you’d be more than happy to spend time with him. The last thing you wanted to do was give him a hard time since you knew he got enough of that from his teammates on the volleyball team.

When you get back to your room, you peel off your wet clothes and throw on a pair of pajamas, determined to spend the rest of the day in seclusion. Hopefully after some rest you’d default back to your normal personality settings and not have to worry about biting anyone’s head off. You plop down at your computer desk and pull up the mellowest playlist you can find before cracking open the textbook of the class you’d ditched. Not much times passed at all before three loud knocks had you glaring at the door. You consider just ignoring the visitor until they got the hint, but then you heard Oikawa’s familiar voice cooing your name from the other side.

“What?!” you nearly rip the door off its hinges, feeling prepared to give your poor friend an earful. Your words die on your tongue though when you see him holding out a peace offering. It was a steaming cup of tea and your favorite bagel sandwich from the campus café. Before you can remember to yell at him, he pushes the gifts into your hands and lets himself into your room.

“Tooru?” You were at a loss for what to say as you watch him walk over to your desk and start clearing away your books and assignments. “Tooru, what the hell are you doing?”

“Ah, it’s good to hear my name again,” He says teasingly, watching your face for any signs that you might attack. “But I still sense some hostility. Go ahead and eat your snack and we’ll see how you feel after that.” He situates himself on the beanbag chair on the floor and starts scrolling through his phone silently, giving you your space. You eye him for a moment, wondering if he really planned on staying quiet. You unwrap the sandwich and slowly start to munch it down, sipping on the hot tea after every couple bites.

“Tooru,” you try to strike up a conversation again once you finish eating, but Oikawa simply smiles and holds a finger to his lips.

“Shh,” he stands up and walks over to your bed to pull back your blankets. You look at him as if he’d lost his mind, but he just gestures for you to climb in. You weren’t sure what exactly was happening but decided to play long out of curiosity.

“Are you seriously tucking me in?” You ask, a small laugh escaping your lips as he pulls the blanket up to your chin dramatically.

“And there’s a smile,” he says victoriously before reaching down to pat you on the head. “Who knew a cranky bear could look so adorable?”

“I…” your face heats up at the words that had rendered you speechless. Oikawa simply turns around and starts gathering up the empty wrappers from your sandwich to throw them away.

“How are you still single?” You blurt out the question before it even finishes processing in your brain. Oikawa’s head swivels around to look at you in surprise.

“Uh,” he reaches up to scratch at the back of his head in embarrassment. “I’ve been told it’s because I spend too much time playing volleyball.” You scrunch up your face at his explanation and Oikawa fears he’s somehow triggered your wrath again.

“Well, if you’re comfortable, I guess I’ll be going now!” He chuckles awkwardly.

“Wait,” you say before he can get too far.

“Yes?” he tilts his head, “do you need something else?”

“Uh,” you avert your eyes. “Stay?”

The request throws Oikawa off completely and you see his confidence waver slightly.

“You actually want me to?” He asks skeptically. You raise your eyebrows at him challengingly, even though you weren’t very intimidating anymore now that you looked all cute and bundled up. You lift up the blanket as an invitation, making Oikawa look even less sure.

“Are you luring me in so you can kill me?” he asks jokingly.

“Just get over here,” what little patience you’d built up was gone again, but at least the snap in your tone had gotten Oikawa moving. He kicks off his shoes and carefully slides under the covers next to you.

“You know, I never expected such bold behavior from you,” he says playfully in his slightly whiny tone, his nervousness disappearing for a moment.

“Let’s go back to being quiet now,” you reply while closing your eyes and settling in.

“Jeez, that’s not very nice,” Oikawa huffs, eliciting another giggle from you. He sighs dramatically but takes his chances at being scolded further by snaking an arm around you to pull you closer. When there are no signs of protest from you, his body relaxes and he hums happily.

“Hey Tooru,” you whisper after a moment.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for being nice to me even though I’m grumpy,” you mumble into his chest.

“No need to thank me,” He assures you while tucking your head under his chin and rubbing your back softly. “You’re as important to me as my teammates, you know? So, just like with them, I have to set you up for success and make sure you’re playing at one hundred percent.”

Even though it was a cheesy volleyball metaphor, you couldn’t help but find Oikawa’s admission to be very sweet. You’d known for a while that his volleyball friends sometimes underestimated or misjudged him due to his bizarre mannerisms, but perhaps you hadn’t known him as well as you’d thought either. It was kind of amazing that he could make you feel so warm and content on a day where you’d woken up feeling so moody and agitated. It was a new side of Oikawa that had you looking at him in a different way. Hopefully, when you woke up, you’d feel a bit better so that you could explore that side of him even more.

[askthemist]

The Great Big White Problem prt3: A surprisingly unethical idea

*3 days, 22 hrs, and 16 secs later after the encounter with Kaguya clan*

Kushimaru: *rocking his foot on the ground like an anxious highschool student*.....we have to do something.

Kiri: *organizing some scrolls* look sir, just because the kaguya clan produced an albino child does NOT mean the second coming of the six path's demonic mother is going to happen. If memory serves me right, albino children don't survive for long, as unfortunate for the children it is, we don't have a lot to worry about.

Kushimaru: Kiri this isn't some albino deer, this is a child who genetically can produce bones out of fuck all no-where. Plus that clan leader is a fucking nightmare. Him and his....*shudders* chicken bone.

Kiri: *let's out a frustrated sigh* ok...if you want me to, we can take care of the problem...

Kushimaru: *leaps up from his seat* GREAT! Now all we n-*suddenly he just falls down like a tree* ow~

Kiri: ! What happened?

Kushimaru: head rush and sleepy leg kiri-chan, head rush and sleepy leg. Tell NO ONE of this.

*later*

Ao: Kuriarare....this is not just an overly complicated plan for a situation that could easily be dealt with...but in some bizarre way...this is EXTREMELY unethical.

Kushimaru: Ao, shut the goddamn fuck up, anyway, where that super duper special..... Permanent resident of ours.

Ao:....please don't say "super duper", coming from you,.....it sounds..... violating.

Kushimaru: I hope so.

Kiri: sir behave yourself.

Kushimaru: *gently presses his mask against Kiri's mask* never.

Ao: god fuck you. Wait here. *Goes to get a war prisoner from the Yamanaka clan* *comes back, and throws him to the floor*

Yamanaka clan prisoner: *looks unkept, pale, and has a small beard* ....have you taken me from my cell to perform your.... experiments again....is that Momochi guy here? Please...I don't want to see his dreams anymore..... please....I haven't recovered fr-

Kushimaru: *lowers himself down to pick the guy up* Oh shut up Muta. Zabuza isn't here.

Kiri: ?!? What have you and Zabuza been doing with h-

Kushimaru: I need you for a special assignment.

Muta: please kill me. My head hurts.

Kushimaru: no...

*hours later*

Muta: *hitting his head on the wall of an integration room muttering that he wants to go back to Konoha*

Kiri: ....who...is this man?

Kushimaru: he's a member of the Yamanaka clan. We found him sulking near the armory years ago and let's just say he's not allowed to leave anymore. If Gozu and Meizu would hurry up....

Kiri:..also what was that about you and za-

Kushimaru: AH! There's my two favorite morons! Did you get one?

Gozu and Meizu: *struggling to push a huge box with holes with someone clearly inside*

Gozu: *huffs and puffs* yes. We got um.

Meizu: *pushing with one arm and another in a sling* You better pay us well for this. This animal could have ripped my arm off.

Gozu: *reveals that he has several bandages all over his legs and arms* yeah what the fuck Kuriarare....

Kushimaru: shut up. Did you get one.

Meizu: yes but the sedatives wore off like 20 mins ago.

Kushimaru: *sigh* hold on* *rustles through his hair and gets out a box of elephant tranquilizers. Takes a blow dart and shoots whatever is in the box*

Thing in the box: *let's out a ton of slurs, curses and screaming and than he just goes silent*

Kushimaru: ok quick get him out!

Gozu: howdoeshedothatlikewut.....oh right! *Opens the box and takes out a random kaguya clan scout*

*after over restraining this dude*

Muta: *presses his face on the room window where he will have to interact with the kaguya clan scout* please don't make me go in there.

Kushimaru: no. You will do as we say, and never appear in these long ass Tumblr chat posts ever again.

Muta: what are yo-*two jonin grab him and chuck him into the room with a now foaming at the mouth kaguya clan scout just screaming* oh God.

Kushimaru: come on hurry up! Pick his brain or something! Remember! Enter his mind, influence his thoughts and remember.....make him do the deed...

Muta: *shaking, he walks up to the scout, touches the head and things sort of happened until he starts screaming*

Kiri: ....sir is he ok.

Kushimaru: I'm pretty certain he's in the subconscious now.

Ao: *coming into the room* what is going o-OH MY GOD WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING.

Kushimaru: making our own Manchurian candidate if you will.

Ao: ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY! This goes against our national agreements of ethics!

Kushimaru: *stares at ao* .....what are talking about? I've never heard of a National Agreement of Ethics.

Ao: ...you're insane.

Kiri: *knocks on wood*

Ao: and YOU are driving my patience!

Kushimaru: *pimp slaps Ao* how dare you not respect women!

Ao: GODDAMN THIS FUCKING JOB! WHY ARE Y-

Muta: *slams on the window of the interrogation room* GET ME OUT NOW.

Kushimaru: oh goodie you're done! :D

Ao: *having a fucking aneurysm* god why.

*afterwards*

Muta: ....it's done, the first thing he will do is kill the child...and Shikotomo.

Kushimaru: good.

Muta: also I want therapy.

Kushimaru: What why you already had therapy almost 5 years ago why would you need it again?

Muta: *grabs kushimaru by the neck* You don't know what it's like being in that guy's head, man! It's fucked up and shit MAN! I SAW THINGS THAT WERE NEVER MEANT TO BE SEEN MAN!

Kushimaru: ok geez fine we will get you a therapist, just calm down.

Muta: *let's go*

Kushimaru: ...now....how to release that scout without him coming right back here to kill us.....

*after tranquilizing the scout with more elephant sedatives, they release him in the middle of a field and watch him run on all fours back to the kaguya colony*

Kushimaru: wow he so majestic.

Kiri: sir you brainwashed him into believing he's a dog set out to kill the Shikotomo and the child how could you call that majestic?

Kushimaru: *ignores her comment* *sheds a tear* I hope he has a wonderful time.

[superman86to99]

Adventures of Superman #506 (November 1993)

Superman vs. Superboy! I mean, vs. Superman, since the Kid still insists that Superboy is definitely NOT his name and never will be. The two Supermen meet while the younger, radder one is dealing with some sort of deformed flying babies that are trying to kill him, which is the sort of thing that happens to you when you wear an “S” emblem on your chest.

These turn out to be deformed flying babies THAT EXPLODE, but the Kid is able to push them away with his (very non-Superman-esque) telekinesis powers. He then deduces that these things must have come out of Project Cadmus, the top secret genetic experimentation facility that created him, and brushes off the elder Superman to get back at those geeks by doing what he does best: being a brat on live TV.

So I guess the “top secret” part of Cadmus’ description is no longer accurate, thanks to the Kid. On the other hand, I kinda feel like the people of Metropolis deserved to know that there's a nearby government facility churning out genetic atrocities into their sewers.

The Cadmus gang sends Guardian to bring their wayward creation home so they can talk to him. Obviously the Kid isn't very interested, and for a while it looks like we might get the fight scene teased in the cover, but then Superman the First convinces Superman the Second that he should at least hear them out. And, while at it, ask Cadmus to tell him exactly what the hell he is. If he’s Superman’s clone, why does he have those weird TK powers? The Kid agrees, but... he doesn't like the answers he gets.

The Kid finds out that he's NOT a clone of Superman since, as established a while back, Kryptonians are damn hard to clone. So, since Cadmus was determined to create a new Superman after the original appeared to be dead, they instead took a clone of a regular, non-super man and genetically modified it to approximate Superman's powers (for instance, translating Superman’s “aura” into a telekinetic field). But who was that human DNA donor? Surely it was someone good and cool!

Just after the Kid wonders that, the quite evil and deeply uncool Director Westfield bursts into the lab and demands that this "super-punk" be taken into custody, probably so they can flush him down the toilet like Cadmus' other failed experiments. Superman makes Westfield see that making Cadmus' whistleblower disappear wouldn't look very good right now, but they can't just let him run around unsupervised. So, at Guardian's recommendation, the esteemed telepath Dubbilex is assigned to follow the Kid wherever he goes. I smell a sitcom! (Or a spin-off comic.)

As a last order of business, the Kid decides to give Superman his trademark to the Superman name, which his manager Rex Leech doesn't take too well. So what are they gonna call this teenage “S” emblem-wearing hero now? Superman has an interesting suggestion: SUPERBOY. Our young friend still isn't a fan.

But after storming out and thinking about it for a couple of pages (and trying out the name on some guys robbing a jewelry shop), the Kid realizes he's "earned" the title of Superboy and accepts it. Character development! And just in time for his solo series. ("That Non-Superman Clone Who Also Calls Himself Superman" wouldn't look good on a cover.)

Plotline-Watch:

The final page shows a shadowy figure shaped like the recently introduced Bloodthirst outfitting someone with a weapon-teleporting gizmo, then calling him "Bloodsport"... except that this dude is quite paler than the Bloodsport we met way back in Superman #4 (in an issue inked by current writer Karl Kesel, so you'd think he'd remember the character). This looks nothing like Idris Elba! What gives?!

Superboy is still bummed out because his friend Tana Moon left Metropolis without telling him where she was going, which is now known as "ghosting". In the end, Rex talks about sending Superboy on a promotional tour to establish his new brand, and the first destination of that tour will be... exactly where Tana went to hide from Superboy. This is now known as "time to get a restraining order."

Clark Kent is slowly morphing into a hipster the longer he rooms with Jimmy Olsen. For a long time I assumed all the bands listed in the panel below were made up, but turns out the only non-existing ones are “James Rock” and "Axel Rose". Luckily, Superboy was happy to give Clark's old apartment back to him (apparently only Pulitzer-winning journalists can afford it), so Jimmy won't hipsterize him for much longer.

Westfield gladly assigns Dubbilex to Superboy because it means there won't be a telepath at Cadmus to read his thoughts and find out about his evil plans (like sending the ugly flying babies after Superboy). Very clever, Westfield! Except for the fact that he thought that right in front of Dubbilex, who clearly "heard" the whole thing.

Incidentally, there's an apparent error in this issue when Superboy thinks "They won't take me without a fight!" and Guardian shows up and says "That's too bad, son. Because I don't want to fight you." How did Guardian know what Superboy was thinking? Obviously, Dubbilex patched Guardian through to Superboy's mind to assist in finding him. Now where's my damn Baldy Award?!

Is it me or is this page reminiscent of the cover to Superboy Prime's first appearance during Crisis on Infinite Earths?

Patreon-Watch:

Special thanks to your Patreon pals Aaron, Murray Qualie, Chris “Ace” Hendrix, britneyspearsatemyshorts, Patrick D. Ryall, and Samuel Doran, and welcome aboard to Bheki Latha (our first $6.50 patron ever!), Mark Syp, and Ryan Bush! You are all excellent. This month they got to read a long-ass post entitled 45 Things I Learned by Reading the “Death of Superman” Novel (Part 1), in which I talked about the stuff Roger Stern added to the canon in the first part of the Death and Life of Superman book. This includes Superman’s private thoughts on the JLI (and Guy Gardner in particular), what Lex Jr. calls Supergirl in bed, and Professor Hamilton getting romantic. Find out more at https://www.patreon.com/superman86to99

But now: the Don Sparrow show! Take it away, Don.

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow​):

The end of an era, at least temporarily, as Tom Grummett draws his last Adventures of Superman issue, moving onto Superboy (and I think still doing Robin at this time?) with Karl Kesel.  He’ll return for the quarterly Superman: Man of Tomorrow and other things, but it’s a long gap until he does.

A pretty good cover, with Superman and Superboy about to tussle.   Though it can be seen as cheaping out on the backgrounds, I always love radial rays as an effect.  

Inside the issue, we have a great splash page of Superboy getting attacked by botched clones, and I love the gesture here—having his head snapping away from the camera adds to the motion and action.  Great stuff. 

Though he won’t be drawing her again for a while, Grummett excels at the new, shorter-haired Lois in these pages.  Superman soaring to the skies is a great panel as well, and I especially like the way his cape and fist slightly break the panel barrier, giving it a sense of motion, again.

The sequence of Guardian acrobatically flipping from one ledge to another is very well drawn.  Ditto the splash on page 13, where Superboy loses his temper.  The body language in this whole sequence tells the story very well, as Superman is calm and patient, confident in his ability not only to reach Superboy with his words, but also withstand him physically.  

The way Superboy snaps the carpet, but controls it mentally with his Tactile Telekinesis is a great example of his unique powers in use.  It reminds me of a technique they tried on the CW Supergirl show (but almost immediately abandoned) where they made like the Kryptonian fabric of their capes was like “smart fabric” and could be used as a weapon.  

Lastly, the dreamy, child-like expression on Superboy’s face during the Peter Pan exchange is wonderful, and a fitting end for Tom’s run on the book. [Max: You mean the William Shatner exchange, Don.]

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

I almost never like it when they reference pop culture stuff in Superman comics, particularly music.  Karl Kesel isn’t the worst offender in that department (that would be JM DeMatties a few years down the line, who had Clark Kent bizarrely asserting he loved the Beastie Boys) but Clark’s discussion with Jimmy about an apparently fictional musician working with a rolodex of early nineties names makes me cringe (as does trying to imagine how awful a “Hip Hop Lyle Lovett” or “Grunge Frank Sinatra” would sound).

The car poster on the wall of Jimmy’s bachelor pad looks for all the world like Robin’s Redbird, also a Tom Grummett creation.  (Fun fact:  Tom once told me he still gets {very small} royalty cheques from the Batman & Robin movie, because Robin’s motorcycle was called the Redbird, though that might no longer be true with Paul Levitz no longer in charge of such matters.)

Superboy (in no less than his third time calling those pink creatures “spuds”) references John Candy and Joe Flaherty’s “Farm Film Celebrity Blow Up” where the guests would frequently “blow up real good” and it does my SCTV loving Canadian heart good.  

It’s interesting (and a little sad) that they again note that Superboy knows things (pop culture, etc) without ever having experienced it.  I feel like there’s a lot they could do with this concept.

This issue reads very much like the end of the Superboy “Reign” issues, as Superman is more of a secondary character to the kid.  All of it begs the question of why Superman, or Guardian put up with Cadmus.  Superman has said in previous issues that he has moral problems with how Cadmus treats life with their cloning experiments, and they’ve attacked him in the past (and also stole his corpse!) so other than the fact that it’s a launchpad for Superboy’s series, there’s really no reason any of these heroes should associate with Cadmus.  Especially Guardian, who comes off as little more than an errand boy here.  He wants to bring Superboy in, but won’t promise Superboy won’t be harmed or imprisoned?  

Nice to see Superboy return to his “Slammin’” catch phrase!

An interesting bit of foreshadowing when Superboy asks Big Words whose clone he is, and who immediately enters but Westfield. [Max: That’s right, Westfield! Not Luthor! Sorry, sorry.]

[artificialqueens]

Season 5 Remix - Episode 2: Lip Synch Extravaganza Eleganza (eventual Jadore) - Eevee

Uhhhh. Hi? I’m back, for the three of you who remember me, I hope you weren’t expecting anything new in terms of content, I remain a one-trick Ponyta. Unless you count Pokemon puns as a trick, then I have two.

This is chapter 2 of a fic from uh, fuck, two years ago. Ehehe…. Here’s chapter 1, since there’s a very good chance no one here lately has read it, and even if you have, not recently.

Ummm. I dunno. I barely even remembered how to submit a fic here, and V had to remind me that it’s been long enough I should link to chapter 1 in my author’s note. I’ll figure things out again, but in the meantime, I think Eevee is confused, and I might hit myself in my confusion a few times before I snap out of it.

Here’s this mess.

The thirteen queens headed back into the werk room, looking for the mirror message from Serena.

God bless America, Viva Panama, Keep bearing light QUEENS xoxo Serena ChaCha

“Bye, Serena.” Adore started cleaning the mirror, and Detox cheered.

“Thank you, Adore. That kid was annoying as fuck.” Detox said, unpinning her wig.

Jade nodded. “Yeah, she really was.” A few other queens nodded and mumbled agreements, and Adore felt good. At least they liked her.

Monica seemed troubled, nervous. Jinkx considered asking, until Adore slid next to her. “Hey, your dress was really pretty.” The younger queen smiled, her green eyes sparkling. Jinkx forgot what she was thinking about immediately.

Jinkx grinned at Adore as she took off her wig. “Aw, thanks. I think Ivy did great with hers, did you see her sewing?”

Adore started shimmying out of her disaster of a dress, kicking it under a table. “Yeah, I gotta get some tips from her. Not that your help wasn’t great!” Adore blushed, afraid of offending Jinkx.

Jinkx just laughed. “It’s fine, I want to learn some sewing stuff from Ivy, too. Did you know she made some of Manila’s dresses?”

The queens continued chatting as they dedragged, then made their way back to the hotel for the night.

~*~*~*~*~

“Rolaskatox is in the house!” Detox, Alaska, and Roxxxy announced as the queens strutted into the werk room the next morning. Jinkx rolled her eyes, and Adore snorted.

“Roll what?” The young queen shook her head. “Girl, that is not a word.”

Detox scoffed. “Roxxxy, Alaska, Detox. Rolaskatox. It’s the hot new drug for people who are gagging.”

Jinkx looked Detox dead in the eye. “I’d rather choke to death than take that.” Her voice was devoid of emotion.

Adore lost it laughing.

“Sounds like a venereal disease.” Ivy said with a shrug, and Jinkx couldn’t hold a straight face anymore.

Rolaskatox and the trio that didn’t seem too impressed with them were pulled out of their shade throwing by a video popping up on the monitor.

~*~*~*~*~

Ru strutted into the werk room to the cheers of the queens. “Condragulations, Adore Delano, on surviving the first lip-sync for your life.”

Adore grinned, the other queens clapping. “Thanks.”

“Let that be a lesson to all of you. To win $100,000, you’re going to need to put your money where your mouth is. Oh, pit crew!”

At that, the pit crew came in carrying… a bizarre board with five RuPauls on it, all of which had holes where their mouths should be. They also were all wall eyed, it was very strange.

Jinkx shook her head slightly. “What?”

Ru explained the mini-challenge was to lip-sync to his songs (now available on iTunes) and sell a performance with only their mouths visible. The queens all went to do their lips as fantastical as they could.

Alaska would later provide opinions on the lipstick skills displayed. “There are some crazy lips in this room. Detox looks like the Joker, Lineysha looks like a painted peacock fantasy, and Coco’s looking like… she just fell into a vat of glitter.”

The queens were split into groups for the three songs. Adore and Jinkx both landed in group one, lip-syncing “Tranny Chaser.”

“Ladies, assume the position.” Ru was not interested in making the way this mini-challenge was set up any less awkward. Once the queens were on their knees, he added, “You all do that so well.”

Adore cast a quick glance at Jinkx, who was blushing pretty hard. She chuckled awkwardly as the music began, focusing on her own performance rather than her friend. After all, she still had a crown to win.

~one incredibly transphobic song later~

“That was awesome,” Ru began, pacing in front of the board with a cake pop, “But one of you really… popped.” He put the snack into Adore’s mouth. “Adore Delano.”

“I win!” Adore cheered, jumping back to her feet. “And I get cake!” She grinned around the cake pop. Jinkx hid a laugh behind her hand, amused by Adore’s cheerful attitude.

Detox won “Lady Boy,” and Ivy Winters did the best on “Peanut Butter.” With the mini-challenge complete, Ru explained what they had won. “For this week’s main challenge, it’s gonna be a lip-sync extravaganza!”

The queens all cheered, despite not knowing what that actually meant for them. Ru continued. “You’ll be taking classic moments from the herstory of Drag Race, and recreating them in your own scene-stealing viral videos!”

Adore, Detox, and Ivy were team captains for this event. Adore got first pick. “Uh, Roxxxy?” She didn’t sound sure of herself, she wasn’t sure of herself, but she didn’t want to pick Jinkx first. She wanted Jinkx on her team, but she didn’t want to seem too attached. Or let ‘Rolaskatox’ be all together, for that matter.

Detox’ first pick was naturally, “I want my Lasky!”

“Toxy!”

“Lasky!”

Every other queen in the room just stared at the two, slightly uncomfortable. Ivy was up next. “Ms Lineysha.”

“Jinkxy, c’mon.” Adore smiled, and Jinkx walked over to her happily.

“I’ll take Monica.” Detox decided, Monica nodding as she joined the group. “Ms Vivienne.” Ivy said.

“Alyssa.” Adore couldn’t leave Laganja’s drag mom out of her group.

“Coco, get your ass over here, bitch.” Detox and Coco hugged dramatically.

Ivy was left with Honey Mahogany and Jade Jolie as choices. “Sorry, Jade, but I’m gonna have to go with Honey.” Ivy sounded genuinely apologetic.

“That’s okay, girl.” Jade assured, unconvincingly, and was directed to join Adore’s group.

Once the groups were split up, the scenes they would be lip-syncing to were handed out. “Season 3, Untucked. Party.” Adore tapped play on the tablet as her group huddled around, looking at the scenes they were given.

“So, we have Shangela versus Mimi, with Mariah, and then Raja and Delta.” Adore looked at her teammates. “So, who feels like a particular queen?”

“I’ll do Mariah, and Alyssa should do Shangela.” Roxxxy suggested, and Alyssa nodded. “Somebody has to be Mimi.”

Jinkx suddenly had a thumb jabbed in her direction. “I think you should be Mimi.” Alyssa said, and Jinkx just blinked.

“Uh, okay, Mimi.” She agreed, but her words were drowned out.

“I was thinking maybe I could do Raja.” Adore offered.

Alyssa agreed, “Hands down, you’re Raja.”

Jade was stuck playing Delta, and was not thrilled with it. But no one seemed keen on listening to her misgivings.

The queens all settled in on learning their lines, and getting themselves made up as the queens they were portraying.

Ru came by to talk to them as they prepared. “Team Adore!”

“Party!” Adore chirped cheerfully, the other queens smiling at Ru.

Adore was already mostly done up, and Ru noticed. “So, you’re playing Raja?” Adore nodded. “Did you assign the roles?”

“Sort of. Not everyone likes who they’re playing, but not all the queens we’re playing are fun choices.” Adore shrugged.

Jade scowled. “No kidding.”

“I’m sorry, Jade!” Adore sounded earnest. “We just got what we got. I know you didn’t wanna be Delta, but we were out of choices. Sorry.”

Jade nodded. “Thanks.”

Ru smiled at the queens. “Well, at least there’s no hard feelings. So Jinkx is Mimi Imfurst,” Jinkx smiled at Ru, the silly mouth makeup around her eyes confirming it. “And Roxxxy, you’re playing…”

“I’m doing Mariah.” Roxxxy offered.

“Mariah, of course. And Alyssa, who are you playing?”

“Shangela ‘halleloo,’” Alyssa supplied. “I put her in drag for the first time.”

“A family that drags together…” Ru started.

“…stays together!” The queens finished.

Ru went on to talk about Lypsinka and wished the team luck, moving on to talk to Detox’ group.

~*~*~*~*~

Adore’s team was first up to film their scenes. Everyone got into place, and Alyssa and Jinkx started acting out their fight. Instead of drinks, they threw glitter at each other, quickly coating everything. Jinkx was having an issue trying to hoist Alyssa over her shoulder, she was not bulky enough to lift a grown person up and carry them around.

Alyssa slipped on the glitter covered coffee table in the lounge, and Adore helped her back to the floor. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good. Let’s reset!” Alyssa said.

Jinkx adjusted her… lampshade. “Can I have a minute?”

Adore sat next to her. “Here, let me help you with that.” The young queen helped Jinkx get the silly prop balanced again.

“Thanks, Adore,” Jinkx smiled.

Adore grinned back. “You’re welcome! Let’s do it again, yeah?”

Jinkx nodded, and the lampshade wobbled but stayed put. “Take two!”

~*~*~*~*~

The group moved to the other lounge to shoot the other scene, and Adore was gesturing and hamming up the performance, but in a good way.

“I wonder if people talk about us this way.” On that line, Adore and Jade locked eyes, shrugged, and knocked back their drinks. Jinkx felt a deep emotional connection to that choice.

Adore and Jade did the scene maybe once or twice over, but it was pretty solid.

The group headed back to the werk room to get ready for the runway.

~*~*~*~*~

Category is, best drag. Jinkx had a silver sequin dress she planned to wear for the runway theme, and was at war with her deep red wig, trying to get it into a shape she liked. She abandoned the effort for the moment and started painting her face.

Adore was waffling between two dresses, one black and white, the other styled to resemble a mermaid’s tail. “Hey Jinkx, do you think I can last until whatever the ‘fishy fierceness’ runway is?” She looked to the queen she was quickly considering her best friend in the competition.

Jinkx looked at the two dresses Adore was holding up. “I think you’ll be here for a while yet, you did great today. Save the ‘fishy’ dress.”

Adore nodded and hung her mermaid dress back up. “Werk.” She and Jinkx worked on their makeup quietly for a bit.

Adore looked over at the ginger queen, who was going in a bit heavy on her nose contour. “Jinkx.” She had to save her friend from herself.

“Mm.” Jinkx hummed, not listening.

“Jinkx!” Adore repeated, louder. The shape Jinkx was making her nose was not improving.

Jinkx turned to Adore. “Huh?”

Adore shook her head. “You helped me out, now it’s my turn to help you.” Jinkx gave a confused smile, and Adore continued. “Your contouring is… a lot. I know how to paint soft, let me show you how.” She held a hand out, as though to take Jinkx’ makeup brush. “May I?”

Jinkx handed the brush to Adore. “Sure.” She didn’t know why she trusted this queen so easily, but she knew it was the right choice. Adore went straight to work.

After a few minutes, Adore leaned back from Jinkx’ face and nodded. “There, much smoother.” Adore grinned at Jinkx, who looked in the mirror. Her face looked soft and feminine.

“I love it!” She beamed at the younger queen. “Now finish your own beat, we have a runway to slay.”

~*~*~*~*~

Adore was far more confident in this runway than she was the previous. She strutted her way down the catwalk, and was excited for critiques.

The queens all assembled on stage to watch the videos with the judges. Jinkx and Adore stood next to each other, exchanging a reassuring glance as the videos began.

~*~*~*~*~

The judges seemed happy with the videos Adore’s group put out, and Jinkx and Adore shared a high-five.

Everyone got critiques from this challenge, and while the performances were fine from Adore and Jinkx, the judges had some opinions on their looks.

“What’s going on with that wig?”

Jinkx ran her hands through her wig. “I tried to tease it but I just pissed it off!”

Adore giggled from her place on the stage, earning a warning glare from Michelle. The other judges were too busy laughing to notice Adore’s outburst.

“Next up,” RuPaul returned her attention to Adore. “Adore Delano.”

Adore quickly recomposed herself. “Party.”

“Your performance in the challenge was amazing,” RuPaul said. “It was dramatic and over the top, yet it worked because you knew your lines and it fit the character.”

“I love this gown tonight,” Santino said, gesturing to it. “It’s very glamorous.”

Michelle rolled her eyes. “Santino, you’re an idiot. The body shape is all wrong and the length of the gown is awkward. It’s too short.”

“Should I have worn flats?” Adore asked, a bit sarcastically. “Would that have helped?”

RuPaul and Santino laughed, and they moved on to the next queen.

“The forty ninth state,” RuPaul giggled a bit as she said it. “Alaska.”

“Hieeee,” Alaska whined.

“What was that makeup?” RuPaul asked. “It was so dark that it could almost be considered black face. Especially since you were playing a person of colour.” Alaska’s face drained of visible colour.

“Not only that,” Michelle chimed in. “You didn’t know any of the words. And you used ridiculously over the top hand motions as if you thought that would distract us from it.”

Alaska opened her mouth, but it just sounded like a door creaking open when she tried to say something.

“It wasn’t very Phi Phi.”

Alaska kept creaking as they moved on to the next queens.

Adore breathed a sigh of relief, at least she wasn’t under fire this time.

~*~*~*~*~

The results of the judging were almost a reverse of the previous challenge, at least for Adore, who won for her performance. On the other hand, while Alaska had ranked high the previous challenge, she was up to lip sync against Monica this time.

Alaska dominated the lip sync, something the judges and other contestants didn’t expect, seeing that she actually learned the words this time. Monica didn’t stand a chance, and she was asked to sashay away.

[thestuckylibrary]

A Year in Reading: 2019 - Blue

So real life kind of kicked our asses in 2019 and we weren’t able to keep up with the monthly Mods’ Reads posts. We’ve gotten some questions about them and we still intend to keep them a thing, hopefully, in 2020. But for now, this will have to do. Below the cut is everything I’ve read in the past year:

(It’s a long list and I may have missed some things we try and warn for, so make sure to check tags and warnings on any fics that catch your eye <3)

January

Slainte mhaith by Speranza (oneshot | 1,180 | M)

Under the Bridges of Fame by alby_mangroves, notlucy (complete | 89,678 | E)

For better or for worse (usually worse), Steve Rogers has been the most famous guy in the room for a while. And though newsreels have given way to YouTube, people’s reactions haven’t changed much in seventy-some years. Steve’s become an expert at keeping his head down and getting on with his life.

A head-on collision on a busy street sends books flying and sweeps Steve off his feet. The point of impact has a name: James. A charming mess of long hair, thick glasses, and a crooked, not-quite-smile. If he recognizes Steve, he chooses not to comment, placing him firmly in Steve’s good graces.

As far as Steve can tell, they might be Bogie and Bacall all over again, save for the group of idiots with selfie sticks who surround them. But for once, the request isn’t for Steve.

Which begs the question: if James is James, then who the hell is Bucky?

So, You’ve Adopted a Fruit by Nejinee (complete | 17,769 | E)

Steve knows that Bucky’s trying his best to stay whole in this new modern world. Then Bucky finds a struggling little scraggly creature and decides immediately to wrap it up in his open heart and take it home. It’s a bit bizarre seeing a former assassin taking to something so small and helpless, but to Steve it all makes sense.

Part 1 of 2 lovestruck idiots and a dog

Sandy Cheeks by Nejinee (oneshot | 4,227 | T)

A day at the beach with Steve, Bucky and Blueberry.

Part 2 of 2 lovestruck idiots and a dog

The Job Between Here and There  by Pohadka (series, ongoing | 182,404 | M)

He might be free from HYDRA’s command and making his own life now, but James Buchanan Barnes is far more lost than he’d ever been before. Nothing matches the vague memories he’s recovered so far, and the world has progressed far beyond needing soldiers. To find out what he wants, and how to get it, he just needs a little… Leverage.

all systems snot by galwednesday, silentwalrus, skellerbvvt (oneshot | 2,962 | T)

They don’t let you suck dick in quarantine.

A Hatemance For The Ages by BetteNoire (WeAreWolves) (series, ongoing, restricted | 28,750 | E)

This is what happens when you find your soulmate… and instead of birds singing and roses blooming, you discover they’re an insufferable jerk. But an insufferable jerk that you low-key really want to bang, if nothing else because MAYBE THEN THEY WOULD SHUT UP.

Features the worst, most annoying iterations of Cap!Steve and Modern!Bucky. There is nothing these two wouldn’t do for each other… out of spite.

[A series of occasional short fics that I write when I just want snark and hate sex]

The Department of Special Collections by alby_mangroves, Speranza (oneshot | 4,867 | T)

It was a messy thing of leather and papers and rope. It looked like Phillips had carelessly thrown a bunch of documents onto an old piece of black leather and then rolled the whole thing up and tied it … The papers inside were all different sizes, everything out of order and haphazardly stacked, like someone had been in a hurry and just grabbed it all.

love is blind (steve and bucky are just dumb) by talkplaylove, wearing_tearing (oneshot | 4,409 | T)

“You shouldn’t have interrupted their date, then,” Natasha pipes up, finally showing her face as she gives Bucky a wave and a tiny smile. “I like the hair.”

“Thank you.” Bucky preens a little. He ignores the teasing about this being a date; Nat and Sam somehow got it into their heads that Steve and him were dating via Skype calls. They’re not. They’re just friends who video call sometimes. Friends do that.

Part 3 of Happy Steve Bingo

Part 1 of men with no plans

i love him and our goat children by talkplaylove, wearing_tearing (oneshot | 5,526 | T)

“Bucky, why does Sam have a photo of you surrounded by goats and the words “Always be happy with Jesus” on it?” Steve asks, looking at him on the screen.

Or the one where Steve and Bucky move in together, adopt some goat kids, and live happily ever after.

Part 2 of men with no plans

Part 4 of Happy Steve Bingo

February

Treasured by Dira Sudis (dsudis), Sealcat (complete | 24,609 | M)

When everyone in town became convinced that a dragon really had come again to the Old Lair, and that the town would have to offer it tribute, they all looked at Steve.

Honestly, he was relieved.

The Joy of Little Things by obsessivereader, Sealcat (complete | 29,744 | E)

"Do you want me to eat you?"

“No, but—” Steve broke off his instinctive response. All his life, he’d believed in doing what was right… he was not about to stop now. Wincing at the prickling pain in his feet, he straightened up to his full height. “Yes. If it means you’ll leave this place.”

"But you don’t look very filling." The tip of the dragon’s tail twitched. "I don’t suppose you’re a virgin?" he asked hopefully. "I’ve heard they taste better."

Steve gritted his teeth and refused to answer. The dragon could very well find that out for himself. He stared at the dragon. The dragon stared back. Then the dragon got up, turned around, and went back into his cave.

"Well? Come on, tribute."

or, how Steve ends up working for a dragon with a very odd sense of humor

It's A Funny Story... by perfect_plan (oneshot | 6,009 | M)

Bucky just had the most mind-blowing sex of his life with a handsome stranger and nothing can ruin his day. That is until he goes out to breakfast with his room mate to meet Sam's best friend who just moved to town.

total eclipse of the bark by Deisderium (oneshot | 2,627 | T)

Steve's first day at the flower shop, he walks into the break room to find an extremely large and muscular man having a breakdown because his dog is sick. Only an asshole wouldn't try to comfort that large and muscular man.

Karma's A Fake Orgasm by gracie137 (complete | 51,653 | E)

There’s another abandoned mug, festering with mould in the living room — Steve offically has the world's worst roommates. And complains about them. Often. Bucky, tired of his lack of action, decides it’s time to avenge Steve's sleepless nights and unsanitary conditions once and for all. They’ll pretend to be the world’s most annoying couple: excessive PDA, loud fake sex, and general repugnance. The plan sounds easy enough; it will be strictly platonic. Or will it?

Part 1 of Revenge Is Best Served Horny

A minor misunderstanding, solidarity, and reunion by owlet (oneshot | 2,456 | T)

Barnes should know better. Lidia should charge her phone.

Part 8 of Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail

Licence To Thrill by roe87 (oneshot | 4,153 | M)

James is a Russian spy, ordered to take down American agent Steve Rogers.

Steve is an American agent, ordered to take down Russian spy James.

But when they first meet, things take a different turn.

(Or, a spies meet cute)

You Can't Take the Sky from Me by LeisurelyPanda (oneshot | 6,259 | M)

Captain Bucky Barnes and his crew were flagged by an Alliance ship after innocently minding their own business during an illegal salvage operation. It's not Bucky's first scrape with the oppressive, bureaucratic Alliance military, and it won't be the last. However, most Alliance vessels don't send someone so... adorably susceptible to Bucky's charms to interrogate him.

Steve was conscripted into the Alliance at a young age. He's been around long enough to know that it's not what everyone said it was when he was conscripted. A dashing rogue in his interrogation room, however, offers what might be his only chance at escaping this life.

It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year by stevergrsno (noxlunate) (oneshot | 5,186 | E)

“You should come over for a drink.” Christmas Stealing Hot Neighbor says instead of answering Steve’s very valid question.

“I really don’t think I should. Sounds like fraternizing with the enemy.” Steve says, even as he’s abandoning his tree and moving towards the gate.

“Look at is as a know thy enemy thing instead,” Christmas Stealing Hot Neighbor says before flashing Steve a smile and oh, oh no, Steve is screwed.

Aka Steve Rogers is competitive, Bucky Barnes is into his hot new neighbor, and Christmas Feelings ensue.

The New Super by gr8escap (oneshot | 3,001 | T)

Steve Rogers is trying to get comfortable in his almost affordable apartment and the New Superintendent of the building is a cruel distraction.

Part 6 of Happy Steve Rogers - [Bingo]

10-94* by gravesecret, softcorehippos (complete | 38,817 | E) *graphic violence

Late at night, when the city sleeps, they race.

Bucky Barnes owns a garage and race for pinks, Steve Rogers is an FBI Agent with a lot of people to prove wrong.

Destiny Knows Better by Polska_1999 (oneshot | 4,251 | T)

When Steve woke up after the ice with a new soulmark, and one that offended him no less, he made it his personal promise to hate the person that the universe chose to replace Bucky. Shame that the universe didn’t quite get the memo.

Part 9 of Sprint Towards Blackout (Happy Steve Bingo 2018)

Sergeant Hot Pants by cleo4u2 (oneshot | 11,798 | E)

When Sergeant Bucky Barnes is assigned to temporarily take over for Maria Hill, Steve can't quite keep his shit together. Not around Bucky, who is the hottest Alpha Steve's ever seen.

Lessons Are So Cold by herecomesbucktofuckshitup (complete | 57,575 | E)

Steve knows that he's small. He knows that someone has to go undercover at the local high school, and he knows that he was the right person for the job. He just wishes he wasn't. And Steve really really wishes that the cute boy he'd hooked up with the night before his mission hadn't turned out to one of his teachers.

Patience by cleo4u2 (oneshot | 5,073 | M)

You should never Google yourself. Steve knows that, he's been out of the ice for over a year, but he just can't help himself. After finding a gorgeous, sexy brunette thirst tweeting about calling him Daddy, he can't help himself from responding, either.

We Are The Lucky Ones by blithelybonny (oneshot | 28,563 | E)

The Soldiers will be drift compatible -- of that, there is no question. They were bred for perfect synchronicity; two halves of one whole, one mind in two perfect bodies.

But they cannot be allowed to remember. The drift may be catastrophic.

Seashore by Speranza (oneshot | 505 | not rated)

No Kind of Life by Speranza (oneshot | 1,995 | not rated)

"You know I have to do everything the hard way, Buck. It’s the fundamental fact of my nature.”

The Gentleness That Comes* by doctormccoy (oneshot | 8,566 | M) *sex work

Steve Rogers never really views the things he had to do to get by before the War with any sort of shame or embarrassment. People ask him for his opinions on modern issues in interviews, but Steve has gotten good at talking around those types of questions. Fury insists that there's no way to answer them without casting a shadow of controversy across the reputation of the Avengers, and that's the last thing Steve wants.

But then a sex tape is released featuring Tony Stark in bed with another man, and Steve can't stay quiet any longer.

Expressive Force by Avaaricious (oneshot | 3,795 | T)

AKA the "You punched me in the face while gesticulating wildly to a friend" AU

Part 1 of Meet-Ugly

Bite Your Tongue by Avaaricious (complete | 34,193 | T)

AKA the "I work at a department store and if you take out and unfold a shirt and then leave it one more time I'm going to stuff it down your throat" AU

Part 2 of Meet-Ugly

March

Misdemeanor by Avaaricious (complete | 9,140 | G)

Based off this tumblr post by peterssquill:

Some cop, unlucky enough to pull over Captain America of all people: Sir um could I see ur... uh... license?

Steve Rogers someone who never bothered to get one: ....no

Part 6 of Meet-Ugly

P.O.W. by Avaaricious (oneshot | 20,420 | T)

AKA the "You're strapped to a table in a lab and I've come to rescue you, but you think you're hallucinating and kiss me" AU

Part 5 of Meet-Ugly

Part 1 of Fixed Points

The New Super by gr8escap (oneshot | 3,001 | T)

Steve Rogers is trying to get comfortable in his almost affordable apartment and the New Superintendent of the building is a cruel distraction.

Part 6 of Happy Steve Rogers - [Bingo]

Seashore by Speranza (oneshot | 505 | not rated)

Fan the Flame by Avaaricious (WIP | 253,880 | M)

AKA the "I thought you were a dude-bro and meant to swipe left on Tinder but I slipped. We matched and now I'm stuck talking to you" AU

Part 4 of Meet-Ugly

Heckin' Chunker for Love by canistakahari (oneshot | 2,708 | T)

On the inside of the big floor to ceiling window of the office across the street, someone has used Post-it Notes to spell out a message:

W H A T I S Y O U R C A T ’ S N A M E ?

Like Playing With Fire by GoldBlooded, LeisurelyPanda, wilfling (complete | 33,567 | E)

James is heir to his family's business, brought over from Mother Russia by his great-grandfather in 1917. In 1918, an Irish organization also moved to Brooklyn, a little too close for comfort. They've been rivals for over a hundred years, and it can get pretty stressful. Sometimes James needs to blow off some steam, and if a handsome stranger named Grant wants to do the same, James certainly isn’t going to say no.

Steve, heir to the Irish family, has never met James Barnes. But they all know that he's an arrogant, dangerous enemy without honor, as evidenced by the way the Russians are crossing lines again. On the way to a 'meeting' between the two families, Steve doesn't spare his counterpart a single thought... because his head is swimming with a man named Bucky and the earth-shattering night they've just spent together.

How will Steve and James cope when they find out they're sworn blood enemies? What happens when the 'meeting' is sabotaged by an unknown third party? Will the Irish and Russians be able to look past ancient, ingrained hurts for the sake of survival? More importantly, will Steve and James be able to ignore the ever-growing attraction between them?

I’m a Sucker for a Wild Boy by jinlinli (complete | 9,897 | T)

Steve is a vampire who’s never met a werewolf in his life before. Bucky is a werewolf who doesn’t even know vampires exist. Naturally, neck biting means two very different things to them.

In which Steve goes for a midnight snack and accidentally gets himself werewolf married.

The Very Heart of It* by merryofsoul (restricted, oneshot | 17,743 | M) *graphic violence

In which Captain America adopts a dog from Bucky and they become friends — and then more.

A Piece of Silly Affection by Reccea (restricted, oneshot | 11,687 | E)

Steve looked good, He looked hale and hearty and uninjured in his leather jacket, too-tight shirt, and jeans. He got off the motorcycle and his movements were graceful and fluid - no obvious signs of injury. He took off his helmet and --

Oh.

Steve had a beard.

Bucky’s mechanical hand spasmed oddly.

Life of the Party by AggressiveWhenStartled (complete | 21,689 | E)

“You know, kids,” Steve heard from the backyard, “one of the most common threats a superhero has to face is inside an active volcano! We’re going to have to work on your evasion skills, so for the next five minutes, the floor is lava!” This was met by a sudden spike in both volume and pitch from the small children as they scrambled onto every raised surface they could find and immediately launched themselves right back off.

“I’ve never seen actual lava in my entire life,” Steve said, vaguely offended.

“You got a superhero impersonator for The Falcon’s niece’s birthday party,” Sam said, incredulous. “The Falcon, who is an actual superhero.”

#TweetMeDaddy by StarSpangled (Senforza) (oneshot | 4,127 | T)

Coulson, for his part, stares up at Bucky with such a betrayed look of frozen horror that Natasha actually goes the extra step and presses another button, capturing the moment and airdropping the photograph to her phone for posterity. When he speaks, his voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. “Why…?” He swallows and starts again, trying for some semblance of normality. “...Why would you tweet something like that?!”

“If you must know, sir,” and somehow he manages to make ‘sir’ come out with the same inflection most people reserve for ‘motherfucking son of a bitch’, “it’s because I have a difficult time doing my job when my job involves monitoring the man with the best fucking ass in the United States of America.” He slowly lowers himself back into his seat until he’s at eye level, making extreme eye contact with Coulson until Coulson turns away to make mortified eye contact in Natasha’s general direction through the one-way glass. Natasha would take another picture, if she weren’t too busy catching Steve’s red-faced sputtering. “Sometimes, I vent to my Twitter followers. Sometimes, it’s about hot men with washboard abs. Can I go now, or do you need a graphic description of how I pleasure myself at night?”

Bad Moon Rising by spacebuck (complete | 57,533 | E)

Bucky Barnes is a lot of things:

- a nurse - the owner of a dorky dog that's too big for his own good - a lot older than he looks (by a lot more than you’d guess) - one of the last born-werewolves of his generation (namely due to point number one)

He's also one of the most powerful werewolves in New York City, not that he uses that power for more than keeping up with his work and playing with his dog.

But, when the once-in-two-hundred-years lunar event known to wolves as the Triple Moon comes along, Bucky's more than a little peeved to get to Central Park to find cloud cover blocking the majority of the power the moon is supposed to be giving him.

And then he finds an unconscious man in a clearing.

He doesn't connect the two, though in retrospect he should have - witches are sneakier than they appear.

much tattoo about nothing by Deisderium (oneshot | 14,579 | E)

Steve Rogers gets a lot of email requests, but never one like this: James Barnes wants to use his healing factor to practice tattoos.

Turns out tattoos give Steve boners.

April

My Arms Were Made To Hold You by portraitofemmy, rainbow_marbles (oneshot | 55,101 | E)

Tired of being kept awake at night by a screaming baby, Bucky decides to take matters into his own hands. Mostly he wants a good night's sleep, but what he gets is a beautiful baby boy with big blue eyes, a lonely father trying to move on from tragedy, and a chance at a family he never expected to have.

Part 1 of Never Let You Go

Coming Up Aces by greenbergsays (oneshot | 1,771 | E)

Bucky Barnes is a charismatic, flirty asexual man that lives with his awkward pansexual best friend, Steve Rogers.

Part 7 of Tumblr Ficlets

Don't Let the Tide Come and Wash Us Away by alittlewicked, hey_you_with_the_face (oneshot | 10,039 | E)

There was a man standing in the shop. A man with Steve’s leather jacket wrapped tight around him – or at least a jacket that looked like his seal skin.

Anyway.

A really beautiful, young man with a strong build and broad shoulders was standing in the doorway. His wispy brown hair framing an expressive face with beautiful pouty lips, an adorably cleft chin, and steel grey eyes that remembered Steve of the stormy seas of Ireland, of his ancestors’ home.

Steve was unabashedly staring (sue him, it was his shop).

Or: the one where Steve, the selkie with a coffee shop like they wished they had at 2 Broke Girls, gets accidentally selkie-married to Bucky, the dryad who just came back from an extended tree time, and they are both just idiots in love at first sight.

The Roommate by layersofart (layersofsilence), Niitza (complete | 28,632 | T)

In which Steven G. Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, gets a roommate. Who rapidly turns into his "roommate"—in the euphemistic sense of the word.

It takes SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers an absurd amount of time to notice.

Make My Wish Come True (all i want for christmas is you) by chicklette (complete | 27,516 | M)

Steve's spent his whole life pining for Bucky Barnes. Why should this year be any different?

A Holiday fic that begins on New Year's Eve and wraps up on Christmas Day.

Cause & Effect by Avaaricious (complete | 25,810 | T)

When Bucky falls from the train in the Alps, Steve will do whatever it takes to mount a rescue mission, consequences be damned.

One possible outcome continued from my fic P.O.W.

Part 2 of Fixed Points

And So It Goes by Avaaricious (oneshot | 9,267 | not rated)

Life goes on for Steve and Bucky as they enter a new century, but there are fixed points in the universe; things that are destined to play out a certain way no matter what.

Part 3 of Fixed Points

come as you are by silentwalrus (WIP | 10,897 | E)

Steve comes back to the States. He pursues truth, justice and the American way. Bucky comes back too. He pursues inebriation and intercourse.

Part 3 of Bucky Barnes Gets His Groove Back & Other International Incidents

Just This Once (The Everybody Lives Remix) by Dira Sudis (dsudis) (oneshot | 6,808 | T)

A way it could have happened.

Ain’t Gotta Hide This Heart of Mine by yourekindof_weird (oneshot | 3,882 | G)

“Uh, so listen, Steve,” Rebecca says. She seems nervous now and she’s biting her lip, “I don’t want to, uh, come across as rude or anything, but I don’t think a relationship between us would work out,” Rebecca fiddles with the straw wrapper from her cranberry juice, “Mr. Stark sort of sprung this on me and I agreed because I was sort of startled,” she makes eye contact with him, “but I’m actually pretty gay, so…” Steve can’t stop the sigh of relief that makes its way out of his mouth. ... Steve has been dating Bucky Barnes, an ER nurse, for over a year. None of the Avengers (excluding Sam) know about this. It leads to the Avengers (mainly Tony) trying to set Steve up on dates.

Kiss Me Once Again by ShowMeAHero (oneshot | 1,171 | T)

Steve’s quiet for a moment, then says, “I’m sorry, Buck.”

“Why?” Bucky says. “It’s been half a minute for me.”

Blood Is Thicker Than Carpet Cleaner by Alexicon (oneshot | 5,872 | T)

Just because it had been a joke didn’t mean it was a bad idea. Steve opened the phone book to the business section and searched fruitlessly for the right entries for about six minutes until he finally came across ‘Cl’ by sheer luck when a few pages stuck together as he turned them.

For some reason, his eyes were immediately drawn to a small, bleak ad in the corner, with only a few words, a phone number, and a thin black border.

The ad’s content:

“Winter’s Cleaning Services. Fees paid half up front. Specializes in blood removal.”

Well. That was. Specific.

Steve Rogers is Captain America, a superhero. Bucky Barnes is the Winter Soldier, an assassin. Steve needs someone to clean his apartment. Bucky shows up to a meeting with a potential client. Neither of them got quite what they expected.

Part 7 of marvel works

May

before we can breathe easy by belovedmuerto (oneshot | 22,052 | T)

No one touches Steve.

Bucky sets out to do something about that

Check, Mate? by talkplaylove-art (talkplaylove), wearing_tearing (oneshot | 1,938 | T) (reread)

A notification from Check, Mate? blinks back at him. Steve’s heart speeds up when he opens the app and then his face breaks into a blinding grin when sees what’s waiting for him.

James likes him back.

Part 1 of endgame

Part 5 of Happy Steve Bingo

Check, Mate! by talkplaylove, wearing_tearing (oneshot | 13,097 | E)

Bucky gasps and stares down at his crotch, sex-addled brain making it harder for him to focus on what the fuck is going on. Steve himself takes a second to realize what the fuck just happened, but when he does, well.

“Did you just fuckin’ knot me?” Steve asks, eyes wide and voice loud with shock.

Or the one where Steve and Bucky meet on a dating app, and everything happens way faster than anyone expects.

Part 2 of endgame

You Will Meet a Stranger by spitandvinegar (restricted, oneshot | 3,061 | M) (reread)

When the mask falls off Steve recoils.

He'll never forgive himself.

Idioglossia by hotelmichelle (oneshot | 20,434 | M)

“James and Steve. If I have to tell you one more time to stop talking, you will be separated. Do you understand?”

Bucky stares up at Mrs. Wheatley with the face that gets him out of trouble when his ma is in a good mood. Steve becomes suddenly fascinated with his correction work. It would have been convincing enough, if their papers weren’t blank.

Or: Steve and Bucky make up a secret language

Part 1 of secret language 'verse

My Arms Were Made To Hold You by portraitofemmy, rainbow_marbles (oneshot | 55,101 | E)

Tired of being kept awake at night by a screaming baby, Bucky decides to take matters into his own hands. Mostly he wants a good night's sleep, but what he gets is a beautiful baby boy with big blue eyes, a lonely father trying to move on from tragedy, and a chance at a family he never expected to have.

Part 1 of Never Let You Go

Don't Let the Tide Come and Wash Us Away by alittlewicked, hey_you_with_the_face (oneshot | 10,039 | E)

There was a man standing in the shop. A man with Steve’s leather jacket wrapped tight around him – or at least a jacket that looked like his seal skin.

Anyway.

A really beautiful, young man with a strong build and broad shoulders was standing in the doorway. His wispy brown hair framing an expressive face with beautiful pouty lips, an adorably cleft chin, and steel grey eyes that remembered Steve of the stormy seas of Ireland, of his ancestors’ home.

Steve was unabashedly staring (sue him, it was his shop).

Or: the one where Steve, the selkie with a coffee shop like they wished they had at 2 Broke Girls, gets accidentally selkie-married to Bucky, the dryad who just came back from an extended tree time, and they are both just idiots in love at first sight.

Super Soak That Ho by silentwalrus (oneshot | 1,434 | T)

It all starts with them going to a movie. “Let’s see this one,” Steve says, pointing to the listing for ARRANGERS: RAGE OF MEGATRON. “It’s supposed to be based on a true story.”

“Fine,” Bucky says. They go to the movies.

This is crack, guys. Expect no redeeming features here.

liquid measure by silentwalrus (oneshot | 2,594 | M)

Just a normal domestic afternoon with two supersoldiers.

sneeze disease by silentwalrus (oneshot | 5,540 | M)

Bucky starts to believe in a vengeful god on May the twelfth, year of our Lord two thousand and fucking eighteen, because that’s the day he makes fun of Clint Barton for carrying around a dainty little packetful of tissues in his pocket and honking into them like a congested donkey every fifteen minutes. “Fucking polleb,” Clint swears, wiping at his watering eyes. “Fucking claritin. Fucking zyrtec. Fucking bastards, all of dem.”

“What’s happened to your pokeymen now?” Bucky asks distractedly, not looking away from where Natasha is very slowly setting the last Joker on her vast, exquisitely balanced house of cards.

“Dat’s not - dey’re not pokémon,” Clint says, aggrieved. “Dey’re drugs. And dey don’t work for me.”

couples therapy by silentwalrus, skellerbvvt (series, ongoing | 19,275 | E)

“You can be rougher,” Bucky says. “If you want.”

They’re about four minutes post orgasm and Steve is still trying to figure out where his legs are. “Muh?”

snackfic by galwednesday, silentwalrus, skellerbvvt (series, ongoing | 12,300 | G-T)

Convenience series for my off the cuff ficlets, largely unrelated to each other or my other works unless stated otherwise

death of an artist by silentwalrus (oneshot | 2,237 | G)

our intrepid heroes take a day trip to sunny, idyllic Giverny.

ain't really quaint by quietnight, silentwalrus (complete | 44,045 | M)

Natasha stops by on a Tuesday, early enough in the morning that it would have been late by Steve’s old standards. Now, though, it takes him nearly three minutes just to limp to the door, yawning, and when he opens it he has to lean heavily on the doorframe.

“Hi,” Natasha says, over the beginnings of birdsong. She’s not alone. “Can we come in?”

Part 1 of farm hell

You Sure Are Looking Good by Defiler_Wyrm, the_genderman (oneshot | 7,002 | E)

When your boyfriend’s a werewolf, some roleplay scenarios just fall into place so naturally. Bucky’s got some fancy lingerie, a danger kink, and a Red Riding Hood roleplay brewing up. Steve’s ready, willing, and eager to play his Big Bad Wolf.

at first chance i'd take the bed warmed by the body by spacebuck (oneshot | 8,238 | E)

This close, Steve can see exactly how beautiful his hands are. He’s never really noticed before, or at least he’s never really had a reason to notice, but the man’s hands are large, tanned like he works outside all day. There’s an endearing callus on the heel of one of his palms, and Steve can’t quite work out when calluses became endearing.

Steve pauses the video. Swallows hard. Casts his eyes around for anything that’ll keep his mind off the hands on his screen, off the words inked into those hands, the delicate shape of a bird’s wing, the curling edge of a vine.

He looks down. The name of the channel is right there, blaring the man’s name right into Steve’s brain until it feels like he’s known it all along.

Bucky Barnes.

OR: the one where Bucky's a youtuber who solves puzzles on camera, and steve's smitten and horny

Chlorophyll by Plumcot (series, ongoing | 19,095 | T)

Steve Rogers doesn't have time for your fancy relaxation. He doesn't have time for your comfy pillows, or your body wash, or your chamomile tea that tastes like plant matter with a side of "why". Steve Rogers only wants one thing in life; to work until the end of days, because at least then he can say he didn't waste his time on Earth doing nothing.

Bucky Barnes has flowers in his hair and chlorophyll in his skin, and he doesn't have time to be stressed. Why would he, when there's rain to dance in, sun to bask in, and philodendrons to talk to? So he is, understandably, very worried about his (sadly) human neighbor who wouldn't stop and smell the roses if he faceplanted in a flower bed. Obviously something must be done.

Steve isn't all that happy when a green-skinned stranger shows up at his door and tries to give him a plant.

June

get it together by silentwalrus (oneshot | 2,089 | T)

“You wanna go out?”

Boeuf Mystère by galwednesday (oneshot | 1,230 | T)

“Quick question,” Bucky said.

Steve looked up, but didn’t stop moving passports and stacks of cash into a nondescript blue duffel, his mind busily ticking through logistics. He’d grab the glock taped behind the hidden drawer in the desk on their way out, and they could buy new clothes once they got across the border into neutral territory, so they didn’t need much else, apart from whatever Bucky wanted to bring. One duffle should be enough. “Yeah, honey?”

“What the fuck.”

Part 12 of Tumblr ficlets 2018

Part 1 of Steakout au Poivre

The Sins of Our Fathers* by inflomora, noirhound (complete | 33,943 | M) *graphic violence

His family called him Bucky.

The arenas in Athens called him the Winter Soldier.

The Spartan Brotherhood calls him Iakov. He defends the light from the dark that once coursed through his veins.

When the location of the Tesseract—a powerful Piece of Eden—is made known to the Brotherhood by a pair of Assassins from Athens, it is up to Iakov and his men to secure it before the Order of Hydra does, and it will take the cooperation of both Bureaus to succeed. His job is not made easier when he finds himself falling for his commanding officer, a certain blond Athenian Assassin who hides a powerful secret.

But they are not the only ones after the Tesseract. With the fate of the world hanging in the balance, a dangerous enemy looming unseen over their shoulders, and nobody left to trust, they must find and bring the Tesseract to Athens before it falls into the wrong hands—that is, if they manage to survive the trip.

Part 1 of Death is A Debt (We All Must Pay)

might never be normal again (but who cares) by napricot (complete | 51,540 | E)

The beginnings of a plan took shape in Steve’s mind, as clear and simple as a tactical frontal assault. He’d prove to Bucky that this was it, he was staying: Steve was retired from the fighting game, Steve wasn’t going to let anything keep pulling them apart. Maybe then when Steve finally told him he loved him, Bucky would believe him.

All things considered, Steve thought he’d handled the whole Thanos killing half the universe thing and the ensuing bitter, desperate quest to defeat him pretty well. Sacrificing his super soldier serum to use one of the Infinity Stones wasn't a problem either, not when it meant getting back the half of the universe they'd lost, and especially not when it meant getting Bucky back. But retirement and finally confessing his feelings for Bucky? Those were proving to be more challenging.

can't hardly weight by stevergrsno (noxlunate) (oneshot | 3,760 | T)

When Steve Rogers woke up in the future he was given a phone and shown how to use social media.

Well, no, in all actuality he was given a two week crash course entitled The Future And You, a six hour sensitivity course, a brand new id, and a credit card.

In which Steve gets a crush on an instagram gym thot and laments over it a lot to the intern stuck with him.

The Art Of Cooking For Two by littleblackfox (complete | 92,761 | M) (reread)

“Any questions?” “Uh. What the fuck am I doing here?” Bucky offers.

I just met you (and this is crazy) by littlesystems (complete | 41,784 | E)

After Steve gets outed by a grainy cell phone picture, it takes the media less than 24 hours to discover Captain America’s secret relationship with James Barnes: classical musician, teen heartthrob, and son of a former president.

The only problem? Steve has never met James Barnes in his life.

Part 1 of I just met you (and extras)

All of Your Love is Sunlight by canistakahari, WarlockInTraining (complete | 22,657 | E)

Sometimes the path to happiness involves bad timing turned good, a butt plant, and a little everyday magic. For Steve and Bucky, it's all that and more.

Dirty Pics by lillupon (oneshot | 3,117 | M)

There’s this one guy Bucky slept with three months ago who still sends pics of his ass whenever Bucky asks. What can he say? Grant’s got an ass that just won’t quit.

Hey, Asshole! A New York City Love story by bunnymaccool (oneshot | 14,818 | T)

Bucky's running late for the bus and he's stuck in line behind some ridiculous shoulder to waist ratio bastard who's too busy flirting with the baristas to get his frickin' order in. After he tells the dude off, completely in his rights he feels, the damn oversized puppy-faced ass keeps following him around and trying to apologize. And okay, dude is hot like burnin', but Bucky just doesn't have the time or patience for soothing the wounded ego of some gymrat wannabe with an obsession for dressing like he's hiding from the mob and .... why are you laughing, Sam?

Part 1 of New York City Assholes

Snapshots by layersofart (layersofsilence), newsbypostcard (oneshot | 18,579 | M)

Steve picks up the picture to be sure of what he saw, but there's been no mistake. "It doesn't even have a Navy stamp," he says, turning the photo toward her. "What is this?"

"Are you asking me?"

"It looks like a pin-up."

"Yes," Natasha agrees. "It does."

---

Post TWS: Steve is trying to find Bucky. Instead, he finds the sexy Navy "propaganda" Bucky somehow never mentioned he modeled for before the war.

I Wished On The Moon For You by stevergrsno (noxlunate) (oneshot | 14,581 | T)

“Holy shit,” Sam says, and then delighted, “Holy shit. You look like my nana’s dog. This is incredible.”

“Yeah, funny that, when they gave him the serum it only really worked on the human bits.” Bucky, whose reaction to Sam thus far has been standoffish at best, and like a wolf whose territory has been invaded at worst, sounds amused, the asshole.

Steve growls a little.

Or rather: A story in which Steve Rogers is the littlest werewolf who could and Bucky Barnes comes in from the cold and makes him his home.

Love in a Time of War by cleo4u2, cobaltmoony (complete | 20,775 | G)

James Barnes is a world renowned opera singer who has dreamed of performing in an opera composed by Steve Rogers. When his dream finally comes true, he quickly regrets what he’s always wished for. But while Steve can’t stand James, Bucky can’t stop wishing they could have some kind of future together. Will Steve realize he’s wrong about Bucky? Or is the damage from their first meeting too much to overcome?

Brooklyn by togina (oneshot | 8,749 | T)

"Captain America, what's your stance on gay marriage?"

Everyone knows that, by now. Everyone but Bucky.

I [Heart] You by writeonclara (oneshot | 1,138 | G)

“Steve’s been hit with a curse,” Natasha said. She said it calmly, so Bucky didn’t immediately go flying out of the apartment to tear apart the Tower in search of Steve. Then again, Natasha would probably be calm if New York City spontaneously burst into flames. He lowered the coffee pot and squinted at her.

“Of course he has,” he said. He felt, abruptly, exhausted. “What is it?”

“The witch kept ranting about sexual repression and archaic moral principles,” she continued blithely.

“It’s not like you to prevaricate, Romanov.”

Natasha pressed her lips together. For a moment, Bucky thought she might start laughing. “It might be easier just to show you.”

OR: Steve’s been hit with a rather telling curse.

Ruff Day by ellebeesknees (umetnica), emptydistractions (complete | 20,570 | M)

Bucky's life is a mess: The US government's been breathing down his neck ever since his trial, the Avengers are a constant pain in his ass, and putting his brain back together hasn't exactly been a walk in the park. This wasn't exactly what he had in mind when he fled Hydra.

He's doing okay, but what he doesn't need is any extra stress. And what he definitely doesn't need is for Steve to tangle with an amateur sorcerer and end up a massive, overly friendly, eighty-pound, shedding, slobbering dog. That Bucky's now responsbile for. For the foreseeable future.

But hey, silver lining. At least now Steve can't talk him to death.

This Side by brideofquiet (restricted, complete | 35,321 | T)

Bucky Barnes restores antiques for a living. Steve Rogers saves the world. Bucky has no reason to believe their paths will ever cross, right up until they do.

Or: the Notting Hill AU.

Behold, a Man by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen) (oneshot | 9,296 | T)

At sunrise tomorrow, Bucky knew he was going to turn into a rooster. He wasn't sure if it was better or worse knowing it was coming. What he did know was that it didn't matter where he slept: his room, Steve's room, Stark's lab—it was going to happen. The curse of the were-cock had struck and there was no escaping. As the elevator carried them back down to their floor, he started chuckling.

Steve gave him a look of concern.

Bucky waved it away. "Just thinking. Curse of the Were-cock'd probably make a lousy movie."

Steve snorted, then said thoughtfully, "I don't know. Maybe it depends on what sort of movie you're making."

Rusted Gate by hafital (oneshot | 19,677 | E)

How many times has he replayed this scene? The young private, the forest path, the rusted gate. Steve and him. This last chance to tell him. He knows what’s about to happen. Why can’t he tell him? How many times has he tried to change how it ends? Maybe this time, he can get it right.

Honestly, Fuck Brooklyn by stfustucky (iwillpaintasongforlou) (oneshot | 8,243 | E)

So, aliens are attacking and have shredded Brooklyn to smithereens, which pretty much makes it a typical Tuesday afternoon in New York. Bucky Barnes, long time Brooklyn resident, has Been There and Done That. What's less typical is the redhead who breaks into his apartment to rescue him, the underground bunker he's stashed in, and the sudden appearance of masked superhero Captain America kissing Bucky breathless and calling him baby. Good thing Bucky knows how to throw a punch.

((Or, the one where it takes yet another apocalypse for the somewhat oblivious Bucky Barnes to figure out that his dorky artist boyfriend Steve is actually Captain Goddamned America. Whoops.))

I saw you there, I saw you then by cleo4u2, xantissa (oneshot | 19,320 | E)

An accidental slide of a thumb brings Steve and Bucky back together.

Art Nouveau by voluptuous_panic (oneshot | 12,246 | E)

Steve's on the worst date of his life. At least the bartender's cute.

No One Wants Your Opinion by thepinupchemist (oneshot | 5,600 | E)

Wherein Bucky loves to cuddle Steve Rogers, Steve comes out on national television for the sole purpose of spiting conservative politicians, Tony sees things he wishes he hadn't, and Pepper doesn't know why she even bothers.

July

Honey Honey*  by justanotherStonyfan (series, ongoing | 544,594 | E) */others, past but explicit

The kid is maybe, oh, twenty years younger than him? Clean-shaven, and looking out of the corner of his eye at Steve in the same way Steve feels he must be looking at the kid – i.e., like he wants to do any number of unmentionable things to him.

Because boy does Steve ever want to do unspeakable things to this kid.

AKA, the Accidental Sugardaddy!Steve AU I always wanted.

Through The Woods by alby_mangroves, VenusMonstrosa (complete | 64,082 | E)

There’s a legend in Mansewood, nearly as old as the town itself, about a pack of werewolves that once lived in the forest. They say only one survives; a monstrous and snarling beast with fur like a blizzard and fangs the size of daggers. They say it guards the lands and all creatures in it, and no hunter has faced it and lived to tell the tale.

Steve doesn’t care about any of that. He only wants to know if it prefers T-Bone or ribeye, and would it please stop tracking dirt through his house? He just mopped the floor.

Part 1 of Through The Woods

streamlined by nickel710 (series, ongoing | 56,248 | G-M)

In which Bucky Barnes, Iraq war veteran and bicycle enthusiast, streams Overwatch on the side for fun under the handle President15, and one day his friend-of-a-friend FalconKnight introduces a new player to the crew, THECapRogers. It would be totally absurd for the actual Captain America to hang out in his stream and argue about baseball, right? ...right?

BuckRogers vs. the Internet by galwednesday (series, complete | 5,642 | T-M)

“Remember what I said about internet trolls?”

“Don’t feed the trolls.”

“Exactly. Did I not say the same thing to Barnes?” Tony asked rhetorically. “Were those not my exact words? I could have sworn they were, and yet.”

“Bucky’s feeding the trolls?”

“He’s throwing a goddamn seven-course troll banquet. Every time someone on Twitter asks if your relationship announcement is real, he replies. Colorfully.”

Steve opened his mouth to ask what “colorfully” meant, then caught the gleam in Tony’s eye and put two and two together. He blushed. Colorfully. “Oh.”

(Steve and Bucky announce their relationship in a very dignified press conference. Bucky then replies to every goddamn tweet asking him to confirm it with a different dirty euphemism. Things escalate from there.)

Just About Half-Past Ten by rohkeutta (oneshot | 1,978 | T)

But as he reaches Madison Avenue, Stark Tower a mere block away, the skies open with a whoosh, and he barely manages to duck under the construction scaffolding perched over the sidewalk. Thunder rumbles overhead, and Bucky frantically checks every compartment of his bag for an umbrella he knows is there.

It’s not. He does find some loose glitter, though, and a lipstick he wore for Pride and had thought he’d lost, plus a spare MetroCard he can’t remember buying.

He also gets a crystal clear flashback of leaving the umbrella under his desk to dry yesterday morning, and never picking it up again.

Leave Those Umbrellas At Home by rohkeutta (oneshot | 2,441 | T)

Bucky watches the watery snow come down and thinks about it, his mood deflating steadily. He imagines Steve going home the next morning, sitting down at his desk and opening his Super-Secret Sexcapade Journal and writing Bucky’s name in next to a carefully-thought Preparation & Performance Grade.

B+ for the effort to look nice naked, C- for being embarrassingly vanilla and wanting to do it face-to-face so he could scritch his fingers through Steve’s beard and hair. Not worth a repetition. Kinky Grade: F.

Bucky’s being uncharitable and he knows it, but Hangry Barnes can be a sad sack of shit when he wants to.

Page One Rewrite by thedoubteriswise (oneshot | 3,008 | T)

World War II enthusiasts and film geeks rejoice! Much like the Sentinel of Liberty himself, a few reels of missing Cap footage have been brought back to life.

We're All in the Gutter, but Some of Us Are Looking at the Stars by chipofftheoldblock (complete | 45,045 | M)

I’m sorry, sir,’ he said, and Maria looked a little appeased, though now she was gesturing for him to get off stage. And then he smiled real big and wide and sincere and said, ‘Guess I’m just real fuckin’ tired of everyone treating me like an idiot. To answer your question, ain’t a lot I really miss. Polio was pretty fuckin’ awful, and so was the food, and the racism and homophobia and hatred so many folks had for one another for dumb-as-shit differences was so goddamn stupid -’

Maria was suddenly on stage beside him, pulling his microphone away and grabbing his arm with a steel grip. Steve just leaned over to Nat’s mic with a shit-eating grin on his face and said, ‘Thank you so much for your time.’

Steve's tired of the world treating him like he doesn't know a damn thing about the future. Bucky's tired of not knowing a damn thing about the past.

They meet somewhere in the middle.

when he gets older, he might be the one* by cobaltmoony, CoraRochester (complete | 32,398| E) *underage

In which a freak run-in with the Cosmic Cube ages Steve into his fifties, and Bucky— still trying to figure out who he is after decades of brainwashing— decides it’s time to come home.

Part 1 of when he gets older, he might be the one 

crowding the hitter by rooonil_waazlib (complete | 12,917 | E)

But the trash monsters are coming closer, and Bucky’s going to be pissed if he has to get his grate replaced tomorrow.

He turns off the panini press, heads into his bedroom, and pulls his college baseball bat out of the closet, pausing only to pull on the slacks he’d just taken off. He’s going to go defend his shop, and he’s not going to do it in his underpants.

Nobody Likes Unsolicited Dick Pics (Except When They Do)* by Blondie_Bluue (complete | 21,864 | E) *chose not to warn

When Bucky Barnes accidentally sends a dick pic to a wrong number while looking for a little action, he never expected to get a positive response.

Feelings are caught, drama ensues, things work out in the end

i'm a ghost, you're an angel (one and the same) by voxofthevoid (complete | 31,133 | E)

“You fucked him.”

Bucky licks his lips and nods. Fury lets out a deep breath and leans back in his chair in a movement that’s terrifyingly controlled but spills danger out the edges.

“Twenty years,” Fury says slowly, taking special care to imbue each word with his personal brand of bone-chilling judgement. It used to make Bucky quiver in his boots back when he was a baby S.H.I.E.L.D agent with two functional arms. “In that time, I have asked, threatened, coaxed, and damn near begged this man to work for us, or at least with us, and what finally gets it done is your dick?”

“Ass.”

“Excuse me?”

“Listen, I’m not saying any part of my anatomy is what persuaded Commander Rogers to agree to this, but hypothetically, if that’s what did it, let’s just say he would have found my ass far more persuasive than my dick.” Bucky pauses, secretly relishing the sour-lemon look on Fury’s face. “It still hurts, in case you’re wondering.”

- Steve tries to seduce Bucky over to the dark side. But the Avengers are more grey than dark, and it’s still a paler shade of grey than what S.H.I.E.L.D’s got going nine times out of ten. Bucky really should be more concerned about the seduction part.

Part 2 of i'm guilty of treason (i've abandoned control)

turn me up when you feel low by faerietell (oneshot | 13,891 | T) (reread)

Steve Rogers is a man out of time, in a city that used to be his home, a city he no longer recognizes. Through charming radio host, Bucky Barnes, he relearns his city, adopts a dog, and falls in love.

August

A lot of Good Omens reading happened in August.

When the Season Comes Around by theheartischill (oneshot | 34,447 | T)

The other problem is that Steve loves him, and Bucky isn't sure he remembers how to love.

Despicable by TheVagabondBoy (series, ongoing | 8,450 | T)

Bucky Barnes just wants to scavenge spaceship-wrecks and get a nice payday for it. He really wasn't planning on finding a survivor on his latest wreck.

The Joy of Little Things by obsessivereader, Sealcat (complete | 29,744 | E)

"Do you want me to eat you?"

“No, but—” Steve broke off his instinctive response. All his life, he’d believed in doing what was right… he was not about to stop now. Wincing at the prickling pain in his feet, he straightened up to his full height. “Yes. If it means you’ll leave this place.”

"But you don’t look very filling." The tip of the dragon’s tail twitched. "I don’t suppose you’re a virgin?" he asked hopefully. "I’ve heard they taste better."

Steve gritted his teeth and refused to answer. The dragon could very well find that out for himself. He stared at the dragon. The dragon stared back. Then the dragon got up, turned around, and went back into his cave.

"Well? Come on, tribute."

or, how Steve ends up working for a dragon with a very odd sense of humor

Quench by AidaRonan (complete | 9,417 | E)

This guy, he had never met. He definitely wouldn’t have forgotten it if he had. Shaggy dishwater blond hair run through with natural golden highlights, a thick brown beard, and a body like a Mack truck made out of ribeye.

“Fuck me,” Bucky gasped.

“Excuse me?” Or the one where archeology intern Bucky Barnes meets actual archeologist Steve Rogers and reaches levels of thirst scientists once believed to be theoretically impossible.

haha, jk by relenafanel (oneshot | 13,523 | T)

(A tale of Not Unrequited Love)

Steve: I love you. Bucky: oh no. (and other fallacies)

Bucky learns to never say never when it comes to the effect his best friend can have.

Like Real People Do by 2bestfriends (complete | 67,777 | E)

Seven years into an isolated retirement after the Battle of New York, Steve has carved out a place for himself in the foothills of the Catskill Mountains. He has a best friend (his dog, Lady), a frenemy (a local black bear named Rufus), and a cabin in the middle of the woods, an hour's drive from the nearest town. As November comes to a close, he heads into town to pick up supplies and ends up with a stowaway.

Bucky hasn't had much luck over the past seven years. Disaster caused his family to move from New York to Indiana, and his life has steadily fallen apart ever since. After one too many heartbreaks, he decides to hitch his way back to the last place he remembers being happy: Brooklyn. He's in the homestretch when he finds himself stranded in a half-empty tourist town in the Catskills and decides to take a chance crawling into the back of someone's truck.

--

AKA the "Lumberjack Steve/Twink Bucky" fic of our hearts. Bucky spends so much time thirsty as hell.

Part 1 of All That You Are to Me

Pod Bless America by Deisderium (complete | 6,13 | T)

Bucky can't believe his favorite podficcer recorded his newest fanfic AU of the show Commandos. He's even more surprised when the customer who busts him listening to fic while he's working in the office supply store turns out to be that podficcer.

* The guy—maybe bi_shield?—took his phone, looked down at the screen, and smiled. "Yeah, that one's mine," he said with no evidence of embarrassment. "It was a good one." He handed the phone back to Bucky.

"I wrote it," Bucky croaked.

Thunder and Ice* by Quarra, TrishArgh (complete | 18,027 | E) *tagged rape/noncon for mentions of sex pollen

Bucky is back with Steve in Avengers Tower and recovering well from his time with Hydra and the Avengers are working together better than ever too; but Steve still feels like something is missing in his life. At the urging of his loved ones, Steve takes up creative writing in his free time to help him regain a sense of happiness and purpose.

And his favorite subject to write about? Having sex with Bucky.

It turns out that other people seem to like what he's writing about too. So much so that Steve picks up a pen name and becomes a published romance novelist. But how long can Steve's secret smut writings stay secret, especially given who he's writing about and how public it becomes?

Be Careful What You Post on the Internet by itshysterekal (oneshot | 19,117 | E)

Bucky just wants to get on to the next mission, but the therapist he's forced to see insists he take up a hobby. Cue his writing of highly explicit Avengers RPF to make fun of Stark and his headlong dive into social media. He never expected a hobby to change his life.

September

THE Steve Rogers PROBLEM by relenafanel (series, ongoing | 85,015 | T-M)

Meet SSA Bucky Barnes: Hostage Rescue Team member extraordinaire. He loves his job, his body, and hooking up. He hates civilians and local enforcement officers trying to do his job and fucking everything to shit.

Meet Bucky Barnes: fan of the television show The Howling Commandos extraordinaire. He loves writing fanfic, creating fanart, and staring at Steve Rogers' ass. He hates the long journey of doing the necessary physical therapy on his arm (and also that no one told him he knows Steve Rogers).

Meet Bucky Barnes: Steve Rogers' boyfriend. He loves Steve. He hates the idea of that being his sole identity.

Green (Heart)-Eyed Monster by TheIntelligentHufflepuff (oneshot | 1,822 | T)

He shakes his head, tries to turn away. But his eyes rove back, insatiable. Steve is spinning Sam, goofily. Sam stumbles, and Steve instinctively grabs Sam to his chest to keep him up.

For a wild, petty moment, Bucky wishes he'd just fall.

[Post-Endgame, except an Endgame where nobody died. Bucky gets drunk and jealous at the after-party, but makes up with Sam and gets together with Steve the next day]

Love's Just a Feeling by fadefilter, Mystrana (complete | 26,359 | E)

Not Without You is on tour, and the lucky fans at their sold out shows are always treated to the best show: great music and excellent entertainment, courtesy of Steve and Bucky, who can't seem to keep their hands off of each other—both onstage and off.

The tour's almost over, but Steve's got a bit of a problem. Despite constantly reassuring the rest of the band that neither of them will develop feelings...

...he's pretty sure he's developed some feelings.

No Retreat, Baby, No Surrender by itsnotbleak (complete | 39,792 | T)

"You think your old army buddy is working at Subway?”

“Of course not,” said Steve, trying to sound like he thought the idea was ludicrous. “Bucky died in 1944. I just...” He didn’t know what to say, so he slapped on his best lonely soldier face and lied. “It’s just it’s nice to pretend for a bit, you know?”

“No,” said Natasha. “It sounds deeply unhealthy, but you do you.”

In which Steve finds a man that looks a lot like Bucky making sandwiches in a Brooklyn subway. Except Bucky died seventy years ago, and this guy shows no sign of remembering Steve.

The Boy With The Thorn In His Side by BetteNoire (WeAreWolves) (restricted, complete | 21,980 | E)

“Holy shit,” says Steve. “I’ve been knocked out twice by the same guy.”

Introduction to Fake Dating Your Best Friend 101 by crinklefries (oneshot | 24,627 | T)

Bucky stares at his best friend as though he’s absolutely lost what’s left of his dumbass mind.

“Excuse me?” he asks dumbly.

Steve sighs and sags back onto the couch, covering his face dramatically with one large, well-manicured hand.

“Dean Coulson thinks we’re dating. And gay. But like, for each other. And now I need you to fake date me so I can convince the Chancellor to fund my research.”

or;

Steve and Bucky are a pair of professors who have to fake date for academic purposes and are real dumb along the way. It's not so much a forest of pine as a whole landscape of it. It turns out fine, probably.

Beyond the Yellow Book Road by crinklefries (complete | 30,057 | T)

Before he was Captain America, he was Steve Rogers, knobby kneed and wild-eyed, with scrapes on his knuckles and a book in his hands.

In 1942, he leaves for war and eventually crashes the Valkyrie.

That's only the beginning of his story.

In 2011, Steve's body is dragged from ice off the coast of Greenland.

In 2015, he meets a bookstore clerk.

This is what happens when a superhero loses his way home and the only way back is through the Yellow Book Road.

October

In The Next Life We'll Be Good by Nori (series, ongoing | 83,018 | M) (reread)

Steve is resurrected 500 years into the future. Humanity is on the brink of extinction, hostile aliens are clawing at the door, and the only thing standing in the way are Guardians. Figuring out how, exactly, to be a Guardian doesn't come easily for Steve, no matter how much he wants to protect the innocent. Luckily for him, he has friends who're more than willing to show him the way.

---

Breaking your hand doesn’t actually help in any way,” a voice says from behind him. Steve twists at the waist, less surprised than he probably ought to be.

“Hey,” Steve says, feeling a smile breaking over his face. “You’re all about clandestine meetings, huh?”

“Maybe I wanted to be a spy in my last life,” the scout replies breezily, drifting like a shadow to stand adjacent to Steve.

Far Strayed* by eyres (complete | 18,344 | M) *chose not to warn

They’re not going to stop coming after me,” Bucky tells Steve, somewhere in the air above Siberia.

“Let them come,” Steve replies, furious still.

After Siberia, instead of seeking refuge in Wakanda, Bucky and Steve go on the run.

The Biggest Part of Me* by Anna_Heyward (complete | 69,992 |E) *chose not to warn

Newly divorced single dad Steve Rogers moves his kids from the suburbs to Brooklyn to start their new life together, and becomes captivated by the young man who works at the coffee shop downstairs from Steve’s apartment.

Bucky Barnes is 25 years old, working part-time in a coffee shop and still living with his mom. When a handsome single dad in a pinch offers Bucky a job as his nanny, Bucky takes him up on it.

(AU of the movie The Rebound.)

Part 1 of The Biggest Part of Me 'verse

Knit One, Purl Two, Is How I Say "I Love You"* by Ignisentis (oneshot | 4,636 | T) *chose not to warn

Bucky looks up from the book he’s reading at the sound of the familiar gentle clacking of the wooden needles Steve has always preferred to use when he’s knitting. He used to knit back in the day whenever he wasn’t drawing. He said it helped calm him down, that he liked making things, especially for Bucky, that it made him feel like he was contributing more since it was hard for him to hold down a regular job.

Bucky thought it was all of those things but also that Steve Rogers was never the kind of man who could keep his hands still.

He used to knit Bucky socks and hats and scarves whenever he could get his hands on some yarn. He’d always wanted to make a sweater but never could get the same kind of yarn in sweater quantities.

Now, though. Now Bucky has a handful of sweaters that Steve’s made for him: a cable-knit fisherman’s sweater with a shawl collar; a simple pullover; a replica of Steve’s WWII dancing monkey sweater he wore on stage that Steve gave him with a smirk; a chunky Tweed cardigan with elbow patches; the lightest, most sumptuous cashmere henley-style pullover; even a Fair Isle with the Ghostbusters symbol worked into the yoke. Fuck, but Bucky loves that movie. And the sweater.

i just called to say i love you* by brideofquiet (oneshot | 7,895 | T) */others

Both times Steve makes a fool of himself in front of the soccer coach, it’s mostly an accident.

Grass, Fire, Water? My Only Weakness Is You! by powercrow (complete | 52,725 | E)

Steve first notices Bucky at a Pokémon GO raid at the local Target.

He’s immediately intrigued, but interpersonal relationships have been a real struggle since his mother’s death. Bucky’s not without his own bullshit after the disastrous end of a prior relationship. PoGo somehow brings them together anyways, and they become friends, catch lots of Pokémon, deal with their issues, and eventually fall in love.

November

You can't hurry love by obsessivereader (oneshot | 8,547 | E)

“Jesus!” Steve hurries forward. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Before he’s even halfway into the room, the man’s already on his feet and turning around. He has a face as perfect as his ass. High forehead, square jaw, pink lips with a hint of a natural pout. Short, wavy, dark brown hair. His wide, deep-set eyes are a clear and luminous gray. Those eyes widen as the man takes in the sight of Steve staring at him.

Something about that wide-eyed, slightly nervous look catches at Steve’s memory. “Bucky?”

Steve remembers a shy, sweet teenager, with soft round cheeks, eyes too big for his face, and a wild head of hair. If this really is Bucky, some time in the last few years, he grew into his face and is now so gorgeous that Steve’s having a little trouble breathing. The lean, toned body beautifully displayed by a black shirt and gray pants don’t help the breathing situation either.

“You… have a beard now,” Bucky says faintly.

or, Bucky finally gets to do something about his decades-long crush on his best friend's older brother...

Part 1 of Happy Steve Bingo!

Stay with Me* by em_dibujsb, maikurosaki (complete | 79,903 | E) *graphic violence

When Bucky Barnes accompanies his family to a ceremony dedicated to George Barnes' activity, he expects free food and drinks, the occasional boring speech, and watching his dad blush furiously as he gets to finally meet his childhood hero. What he doesn't expect is saving Captain America's life and getting shot in the process. What follows is a slow road to recovery, eating hospital food (still disgusting), making new friends (Avengers!!! Seriously, the Avengers!) and pining over Captain America (he won't comment on that). It sounds simple, but it really isn’t!

Anything You Ask by thepinupchemist (oneshot | 6,187 | E)

A skinny blond kid appears in Bucky's candy store, and when her frantic father comes looking for her, Bucky doesn't realize he just met his mate. Over the course of several months, he falls in love with Steve Rogers and his daughter. Fortunately, they love him right back.

Poppies of the Field* by kaasknot (complete | 63,417 | M) *chose not to warn, temporary major character death

"Thank you for purchasing a StarkTech Companion 'Bot! Please state your name for licensing."

Wherein Bucky is a severely agoraphobic combat veteran, and Steve is the android he buys out of loneliness.

So Alive by GottaSaveBucky (Cosmic_Entity_1of4) (complete | 108,978 | E)

A man wearing a light denim jacket over a dark blue shirt came into the shop, a box tucked under his right arm. Despite it being late afternoon, he was wearing sunglasses with bright blue lenses, and his long, dark hair was pulled back in a messy little bun. A few strands had escaped, framing his strong, unshaven jawline. The man looked into the café, smiled widely, and waved in Clint’s direction as he kept walking into the bookstore, and Steve’s mouth went completely dry.

Beautiful, was the only word to describe that smile; straight, white teeth framed by full, lush, red lips, bracketed by laugh lines and an adorable dimple in his right cheek, a charming little chin cleft just visible under the light stubble—Steve was struck literally speechless. And that was before he got a glimpse of the man’s backside. Slim hips and a round, firm-looking ass led to long, lean legs that were encased in snug, dark blue jeans.

“Guh,” Steve said, watching the dark-haired man continue on to the back of the store.

__________

A bookstore AU starring our favorite OTP, set to the song “So Alive” by Love and Rockets (from their fourth album “Love and Rockets,” 1989).

** COMPLETED **

Part 1 of Brooklyn Heights Books

backs treat boys by rohkeutta (oneshot | 2,570 | M)

“What? No, you’re not boring,” Steve protests, bless his heart. “It’s just—I have this kink in my back, probably from work or the gym. It’s hard to get comfortable.”

“Where?” Bucky asks, looking back down at his tablet and swiping to the next slide. He took a beginners' massage therapy course at the community college last summer to keep himself from doing something dumb, like fucking his way through the city because he was bored while Steve was on a work thing in Europe. Missing his best buddy was perfectly okay, but even Bucky, a self-proclaimed Cheerful Thot, felt it might be a little excessive to go on a one-night-stand binge just because his pal was out of town for a few weeks.

Part 9 of a pocketful of mumbles

Metallurgy by eyres, TheFriendlyPigeon (complete | 22,129 | M)

he battle quieted for the moment, the great metal giant turns, at last, and sees Steve. Dark, almost human hair frames a sharp, steel face - but, Steve is caught by its eyes. They’re bright silver, sparking in the sunlight, shot through with gray and blue, visible even at this distance. Something about them nags at Steve, calls to him, reminds him of…

Instead of making the Winter Soldier, Hydra transfers Bucky's consciousness to a metal body, locking his mind within a prison of steel and programming. However, Bucky is stronger than they could've ever imagined.

Press Play to Start by layersofsilence, talkplaylove-art (talkplaylove) (complete | 31,502 | M)

Steve still doesn’t understand; and then he does, or he thinks he does, in a burst of clarity that he immediately wishes he hadn’t gotten.

The thing is that it’s not possible. James shifts his position ever so slightly; his shoulders shift smoothly under his tac gear, and it’s not possible that Steve could be programming another human.

CA:TWS AU - in which Steve Rogers, SHIELD agent, finds out that HYDRA is not so old and defeated a foe, and that the Winter Soldier is more than a whispered rumour.

Something that Feels Like Hope by BeaArthurPendragon (oneshot | 7,669 | E)

Captain America, feeling gloomy around the holidays and exhausted from hobnobbing with the rich and famous at yet another charity gala, escapes into an empty room for some peace and quiet.

Army veteran James Barnes is the founder of the Gulmira Project, which provides high-quality prostheses to civilians injured in the Afghanistan and Iraq Wars, and needs to find a place to practice his speech.

You'll never guess what happens next.

Eight Invitations* by alby_mangroves, RevolutionaryJo, Speranza (oneshot | 3,345 | E) *chose not to warn

Part 15 of 4 Minute Window

December

Cute Stitch Witch Discount by stevergrsno (noxlunate) (onesoht | 3,089 | T)

He’s barely finished with his drink when Bucky appears in front of him, a cup in hand. “Our famous cocoa,” He says, setting it onto the little table next to Steve, “On the house.”

Steve plucks the cup up off the table and cradles it close, inhaling the smell of chocolate and cinnamon. “Thank you,” Steve says, and then, “I can pay though, really.”

“Call it the cute stitch witch discount,” Bucky says with a wink before he’s turning away and disappearing behind the counter to take care of another customer.

In which Steve has magic, meets Bucky 70 years later, and as always, falls a little bit in love with him.

Part 24 of Happy Steve Bingo Fills

How to Woo the Winter Soldier* by writeonclara (complete | 21,566 | G) *chose not to warn

“I think I’m ready to date again,” Steve said.

“What,” Natasha said.

“What?” Clint said, lowering his binoculars. He blinked at the dumbstruck look on the Captain’s face, then followed his gaze to where he was staring dopily at—at the Winter fucking Soldier.

“Steve, no,” Clint groaned.

Or: Steve courts the Winter Soldier.

Ever Mine, Ever Ours by hitlikehammers (oneshot | 2,914 | E)

Steve goes back to return the Stones, for the sake of the universe.

The extra Pym Particles he palms when Bruce isn't looking, though? Those are for the heart he has now and the heart he took into the ice; those are for the loves he's known and held and lost and found, those—

Those are for the sake of his soul.

Avengers: Endgame Fix-It.

Gone, Baby, Gone by crinklefries (complete | 38,943 | M)

An entity known only by the name LEVIATHAN finds each of them, sending, initially a solitary text: Our name is LEVIATHAN. We have a job for you. You have three minutes to decide.

Well, what’s a group of bored, reckless thrill-seekers with very specific skills and long criminal histories to do? They needed the money and, well, it sounded fun.

[ or;

Steve is the head of a new criminal crew, Bucky is the getaway driver, Sam wears a LOT of bold outfits and gold jewelry, and the rest of the Avengers help too.

There's heists and fast cars in a neon-noir setting, but most importantly, Bucky wears a crop top that says be gay do crime and he is, in fact, gay and he does, in fact, do crime. ]

Home Is Wherever I'm With You by cydonic (complete | 88,570 | E)

This is what happens when you buy a house to flip having only seen the online images: you get more than you bargained for. Bucky Barnes brings all the tools to handle a dilapidated home, but he's hardly prepared for a smart-mouthed child (with poor aim), a crying baby, and the hottest dad he's ever seen in his life living right next door.

That House-Flipper!AU.

Part 1 of Flowers in our Eyes

Caramel Macchiato by littleblackfox (complete | 15,450 | E)

"You ate my bees," Bucky says. Because his own tongue fucking hates him.

Empires Fall, but Not Us by AidaRonan (oneshot | 21,611 | T)

When Steve was ten, he met a boy with a clockwork heart.

A cyberpunk tale of friendship, love, loss, and reunion; framed by the battle to bring hope and joy back to a City drowning under Hydra's rule.

No More Shame by thepinupchemist (oneshot | 3,287 | T)

“I think the Winter Soldier is going to our synagogue,” Billy said, apropos of absolutely nothing.

Or: Billy Kaplan helps Bucky Barnes find his way.

No, Mr. Bond, I Expect You to Pine by galwednesday (oneshot | 16,466 | T)

"Agent Rogers. We have to stop meeting like this." The Winter Soldier crouched in front of where Steve was slumped against the wall, hands and forearms glued to the stone behind him by some kind of sticky polymer. "Comfortable?"

"No," Steve lied. "My blood circulation has been cut off. I've lost all feeling in my hands."

"Oh, so I should probably cut you loose," the Soldier deadpanned.

"It's a medical emergency. You don't want to be responsible for me losing limbs, do you?"

"Tell you what, if you lose your hands, I'll make you some new ones." He held up his metal hand, smallest finger crooked. “Pinkie promise.”

Secret Agent adversaries-to-lovers AU where the Winter Soldier keeps tying Captain America to walls and sticking around to chat. Shut up, Natasha, it’s not flirting, okay? (It’s definitely flirting.)

Part 2 of The Adventures of Captain America, Not-So-Secret Agent

Proprietary Information by notlucy (complete | 85,141 | E)

Okay, so Bucky Barnes has a crush on Steve Rogers. The guy's gorgeous, talented and, oh yeah, the Chief Design Officer of the biggest tech company in the world. In other words: he's so far out of Bucky's league that he might as well be in a different stratosphere.

Part 1 of Additional Information

you, the moon by dirtybinary (oneshot | 2,339 | T)

Stimulus. The sight of one Bucky Barnes, age seventeen, best friend, roommate, favourite nuisance, coming home after work. Subject’s Response. A swoop of the stomach, like when one pointed one’s bike down that steep hill beside the church and pedalled really fast, but without the inevitable sprained ankles and bloody scrapes.

Steve likes Bucky. Bucky likes food and cats and girls and maybe, just maybe, Steve.

Steve deals with this very well indeed.

Local Raccoon Befriends Angry Chihuahua by charlesdk (oneshot | 15,314 | T)

Rogers was a tiny man. Bucky was sure he easily disappeared in a crowd and became invisible. He was tiny and short and skinny and didn't look like much. But his fists were clenched to his sides in anger, his jaw was jutted out, his boney shoulders were square, and his voice held more power than his body looked like it did.

Screaming and yelling and swearing like a damn sailor and asking for a fight, Bucky found him breathtakingly gorgeous. Like a tiny ball of energy and rage and justice that shined brighter than the fucking sun, punching his way through the evil and disgusting trash of the world.

Bucky never believed in love at first sight and the way his heart warmed and pounded at the mere sound of Rogers didn't really change his mind. But it did make him stop and stare, desperately reaching out for the feeling he felt when he looked at him because it was good and Bucky hadn't had good in his life in years.

OR – in which one armed veteran, suffering insomniac, and grump extraordinaire Bucky Barnes gets turned into a puddle of goo by the tiniest, angriest, most wonderful guy in the entire universe.

Stop Dragon My Heart Around by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen) (oneshot | 15,127 | T)

All Bucky had wanted was gold. A few jewels. Not a king's riches, not a prince's fortune, just enough he'd never have to worry about anything ever again. It was what had sent him racing to the dragon's cave when he'd overheard the news that the Prince had killed her.

But he should have known better. Nothing good ever came from eavesdropping, and nothing good ever came from listening to men in pubs, and now instead of gold, instead of jewels, he had an egg. A dragon egg, and no idea how he was going to keep it alive.

The dragon egg wasn't all he had, even if he didn't know it. He also had a full-grown dragon on his trail, one who'd sworn he'd find the egg--and the human who stole it.

I Know the Drill by castiowl (oneshot | 4,869 | T)

Bucky says some explicit things to his dentist while under the influence of anesthesia following a wisdom tooth removal. The rest is (embarrassing) history.

Our Broken Parts (Smashed on the Floor) by This Girl Is (non_sequential) (oneshot | 11,702 | E)

Steve is sent undercover to catch an elusive Russian assassin. He didn’t want to do it in the first place; he’s damn certain he won’t be asked again.

great whales of the sea by canistakahari (oneshot | 3,002 | T)

“Whales make sounds,” says Bucky, shocked.

“They sing,” Steve says absently.

show me your insides, show me your secrets (show what you wanted, so i can be it)* by voxofthevoid (oneshot | 8,731 | E) *chose not to warn

They took down a lab full of mutated animals today. It was normal enough at first, James with his metal arm and Steve with his shield, the two of them armed to the teeth with guns and knives. But then the creatures kept coming. Steve wrapped himself around a horse-sized something that might have been a wolf in another life and broke every one of its bones with a single, heaving squeeze of his limbs. James punched through the chest of a biped taller than him with his flesh arm and ripped its heart out for good measure.

There was no pretending after that.

James smiles at Steve, a small, heated thing.

“I want you to fuck me until I can’t talk."

“And if I say no?” Steve asks.

James shrugs, and the gesture is nonchalant, but Steve can see the tension underneath.

“Then I will be very disappointed, and I will leave and take my whiskey with me.” James tilts his head to the side, an animal-like motion that’s a strange cross between predatory and adorable. “But somehow, Captain, I don’t think you’ll say no.”

- Captain America and the Winter Soldier are assigned a joint mission by their respective masters. They are strangers until they're not.

Part 1 of lay your heart into my perfect machine

Yours is the Only Ocean by seapigeon (oneshot | 6,256 | T)

"Sirens aren’t monogamous. She’s free to mate with whoever she wants.” Steve turns his head, and for the first time, he looks tentative. “So am I.”

It takes Bucky almost a full minute to understand.

“Oh,” he says, going warm down to his tailfin.

A Puppy Dog's Tale by roe87 (oneshot | 1,630 | T)

Bucky finds a lost puppy running around in the park, but who does the pup belong to?

Part 24 of Steve/Bucky modern au's

a modern feast (from one-hundred-and-two feet) by Spacedog (oneshot | 3,061 | E)

steven grant rogers is a good neighbor. he vacuums at times that aren’t ten-thirty at night. all his parties end at nine on the dot. and when he brings someone home, he’s cool about it. which makes it even more a shame that 106, the guy living across the hall from him, with the big, blue eyes and the adorable chin dimple and the ass steve can bounce quarters off of, is practically a thoughtful, neighborly, ghost.

luckily, when steve needs something from the local bodega, he strikes an agreement that 106 is more than willing to oblige.

(or: alternate universe, neighbors to hookups to lovers.)

some of them want to use you (some of them want to get used by you) by voxofthevoid (oneshot | 14,136 | E)

He’s dragged forward, his thrashing not doing a thing against the hydra’s shocking strength. At its widest, his tentacle is as thick as Bucky’s wrist. It tapers off towards the end. It’s subtly textured, not slimy like expected, but no less terrifying for it. The hydra pauses once Bucky’s under the cave’s opening, halfway between Pierce and the darkness on the other side.

“Johann is dead,” says the hydra. “I killed him.”

The words mean nothing to Bucky. But when he twists around to see, Pierce’s face is bloodless.

It’s the first time he’s seeing true fear on Alexander Pierce’s face.

“The deal you made with him is null and void, Alexander Pierce,” the hydra says. “And your people shall be better off for it.”

Pierce’s face tightens further.

“But you,” the hydra says – no rumbles, his voice making the water tremble. “You, not so much. I don’t appreciate this sacrifice.”

- Bucky is chosen as his shoal's annual sacrifice to the hydra that lurks in their territory. Things take an unexpected turn when the monster that greets him in the dark turns out to be a wholly unfamiliar beast.

Discord and Rhyme by velvetjinx (oneshot | 9,148 | E)

Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are werewolves. They have feelings for each other, but are too busy pining to notice that they both feel the same way. Their inner wolves have had enough, but will that be sufficient to bring them together as humans?

Rose-tinted Glasses by Niitza (oneshot | 11,215 | T)

It all started because of Becca.

All I Want for Christmas by Pineau_noir (oneshot | 8,377 | M)

We're gonna live like it's 2012! Everybody lives at the Tower and they're all happy! All the domestic fluff!

Steve is retired from action, living his best life, helping with the Avengers and gently flirting with his favorite art store employee, Bucky Barnes, at Christmastime.

Written for the incredibly kind and talented TrishArgh who won my 2019 FTH auction.

The Last Contract* by xantissa (oneshot | 29,681 | E) *graphic violence

The world was dying, at war for years with alien invaders who were slowly and methodically wiping out humanity. Steve’s hope for the future was nearly gone having fought a losing battle for so long. In what little free time he had, he looked for the dragon sleeping under an old castle that his mother had told him stories about. He knew it was just a fairytale, but at least it was something to do. He never expected to actually find a man locked in a cave filled with magic. Nor did he expect to agree to some strange bargain with him. Steve had expected him even less to actually be a dragon. In a world all but destroyed, can Steve survive the consequences of his own actions?

Once More With Foresight* by galwednesday (complete | 7,317 | T) *polyamory

Bucky left the towel draped over Steve’s head and pulled his phone out of his pocket when it chimed with a new text from Natasha. She’d sent him a picture of Sam asleep, his legs sprawled over the shield on one end of the couch and his head in her lap on the other. Bucky snorted and tilted the screen so Steve could see.

Steve shook his head, mock scandalized. “Captain America for five minutes, and he’s already using the shield as a footrest.”

“I know for a fact you scrambled eggs in that thing.”

“That was to feed my team, Buck. It was my sworn duty as field commander.”

“It was a dare from Jones.”

“So it was two things,” Steve said, and ducked out of Bucky’s half-hearted noogie attempt, pulling the towel back to use as a defensive barrier. Bucky sat on the couch beside him and leaned into Steve’s shoulder. It was sharper than Bucky remembered; Steve had lost weight since last week. Since five years ago.

If Only In My Dreams by odetteandodile (complete | 28,317 | T)

Bucky is a highly successful cooking and lifestyle blogger, the gay New England Pioneer Woman if you will. He writes all about life in his Connecticut home with his D.H. (darling husband). Only problem? It’s all complete fiction. He actually lives in a shitty Brooklyn apartment, is single as hell, and has visited Connecticut exactly one time at the age of eight.

When his agent Sam informs him that he's been offered an exclusive sponsorship deal with Stark Media and a three book contract to go with it, Bucky's forced to fess up to Sam, who's predictably...displeased. But Sam's also convinced the deal is too good to miss—even if they have to put on a little bit of a show in order to get it.

So Tony and Pepper descend on Bucky and Sam's fake home for Christmas with a devastatingly handsome War Hero in tow, and their already complicated plan quickly gets even more complicated as Bucky finds himself falling head over heels for Steve. Can he keep it together just for the holidays? Did he ever have it together in the first place?

Not Without You* by SevereStorms, wreckingthefinite (complete | 94,402 | E) *graphic violence

Six months earlier, Bucky would have said the prospect of dying back home in Brooklyn sounded like a dream. Now, faced with his own imminent demise in a Brooklyn that is almost unrecognizable, it’s decidedly less appealing.

Honestly, it’s just sort of bizarre. Survive Afghanistan and come home to die in the pseudo-zombie apocalypse. Can’t make this stuff up.

Servitum by justanotherStonyfan (complete | 42,745 | E)

Steve appears in the hallway, and James turns his head to look at him, doesn't move otherwise. Steve’s in pale blue jeans and a white button down with the four buttons open and his tag chain visible beneath, which is sexy as fuck, but it’s even sexier when he towers over James like this.

"James?" Steve says, and he's not worried, James can tell. He's on the edge of it, sure - he's bemused, and prepared for something to be amiss - but he's not worried yet, so James closes his eyes for a moment.

"Help," he says, and then looks up at Steve. "I've fallen and I can't get up."

Part 28 of Honey Honey

Wenceslas by dragongirlG, mcl4r3n (complete | 17,915 | M)

Steve is a short, skinny Brooklynite with a very stable, predictable life, which he built after losing his memories in a traumatic accident six months ago. He works from home on a steady stream of art commissions, goes to weekly trivia nights with his superhero friends the Avengers, and tries not to get bothered by the constant feeling that something is not quite right.

When Steve invites a homeless man with one arm to take shelter in his apartment during a December snowstorm, both of them enter a dreamscape that unravels the fabric of their memories and reveals the truth about their identities—and their relationship to each other.

A wintertime fic featuring dream-sharing, identity porn, and Steve in the 21st century, inspired by the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and the musical composition Wenceslas Suite by Bob Chilcott. Now complete!

Scenes From A Marriage: Captain America At Home by alby_mangroves, lim, Lunate8, RevolutionaryJo, Speranza (complete | 19,239 | E)

Welcome to the 4 Minute Window Advent calendar for 2019! As always, my goal is to tell a little bit of story in this universe each day (knock wood) between the Immaculate Conception and Christmas. Explicit eventually, the rest as it comes. This year there's loads of multimedia, as you might glean from the list of contributors. 

Part 16 of 4 Minute Window

[ragnarachael]

Hi, could you write a one shot for the tony stark x peter parker sister & morgans mom reader series? I think those stories are soooo cute. Maybe it could be about them being in quarantine? Thank you for all the writing you do! I really enjoy it!

welcome back to rachael’s getting her shit together and churning out content!! this is number two on my list and we’re goin’ strong!! this is just a little over 1k so i thought i’d just post it with your ask!! i appreciate you taking time to read my writing!! it means so much to me you have no idea 💖

“Mom! Right foot green!”

You let out a somewhat fake, dramatic groan as you lift your foot from red all the way to the green, silently hoping that your left foot would hold up on the yellow spot you had it on.

Tony was busy snickering with just his left foot on the mat.

Why did Morgan get to twist—ha, twist—the rules when she wanted her father to take her place? In reality, you knew the answer and knew you just hated the position you were in.

Literally. Physically. In the den of your cabin, spending time with your little family and staying indoors due to the most current stay at home order. Part of you was regretting showing Morgan the closet that had all of the board games you owned. You and Tony should have known she'd pick Twister.

“Alright, I think I’ve got it,” you grunted as you shifted momentarily, glancing up at Tony who couldn’t wipe the smirk off his face while he continued trying to conceal his laughter. “What’s Dad’s next color, Mo?”

Morgan gasped out a quiet “oh, right” and was quick to flick the board you had assembled about 15 minutes ago now.

“Left foot blue!”

Tony let out another chuckle as he lifted his left foot from the red dot to a blue one while you groaned. “Are you kidding?”

“She’s not kidding, no,” Tony said, speaking through his chuckles. “She’s flicking it exactly how we taught her. This is just your Parker luck showing through—”

You didn’t hesitate to shove your elbow into Tony’s shin in that instance, finally laughing as he hissed in pain, trying to avoid pulling his leg up.

“Mama, right hand yellow!” Morgan called out happily, amused by you and Tony’s antics.

Listening to your command, your hand happily uncurled from it’s bizarre positioning to place it on the yellow dot closest to Tony.

It was in this moment you wished you had Peter’s powers just so you could beat your husband’s ass into the ground at Twister. You were never as flexible as Peter, even if you did take gymnastics with him when you were both younger.

“Dad, right hand yellow!”

“Alrighty,” Tony started, clapping his hands together before rubbing them, repositioning his standing slightly as he started to bend, placing his hand on the dot just above where your hand was.

You heard Morgan flick the board just as your phone started to ring with Peter’s assigned song he picked.

You let out a sigh before turning your head to look at Morgan who was watching the arm of the spinner. “Morgan, could you answer my phone please? It’s your Uncle Peter—”

Tony watched Morgan throw the spinner down completely as she flung her body across the couch to where your phone sat, laughing. “Be careful, Morgan!”

“I am!” She exclaimed before you could hear Peter greeting Morgan cheerfully, “hi!”

“Hey, Mo! Where’s Mom?”

“Playin’ Twister!”

Peter let out a loud, dramatic gasp to get Morgan to giggle. “No way! Do you think she could be pardoned for a few so I can talk to her?”

You did hold your breath for a minute before Morgan gave the okay. You didn’t even hesitate to collapse in that moment, carefully getting onto your knees as Morgan shuffled on the couch to hand you your phone.

“Thank you, baby. Do you wanna play with Daddy while I talk?”

Morgan gave an enthusiastic nod in reply before you helped her off the couch, not wanting to have her hit her head on the coffee table again in the past month. Tony happily greeted her to the mat and pointed to a random color on the mat before you got situated on the couch cushion, holding the spinner.

“Alright, what’s up?” You questioned once you called out a second color for Morgan, flicking the arm of the spinner for Tony.

“Well I was messin’ around with some fabric and I had some questions—”

“Are you taking up embroidering, Spider-Man?” You questioned incredulously, looking at the image of your baby brother who was sporting a wild looking bed head. 

“Maybe—”

You couldn’t hold back your chuckle, quickly calling out Tony’s next color. “Left hand green!” 

“Why are you laughing? It’s fun!”

“I’m laughing because I told you just last week that you should take it up and you just said “no, I can’t! I’ve got school work and a robotics project to do!”.” You explained easily as you flicked the board once more.

“Finished it all within the week and May had stuff laying around!” Peter whined before holding up his current embroidery project by it’s hoop. “Just tell me how to do a chain stitch and I’ll let you go back to sucking at Twister!”

“I do not suck at Twister!” You huffed, calling out Morgan’s color before placing the spinner down next to Tony’s hand. “Do you think you can handle doing this while I beat up Peter over Facetime?”

“Hey! I can hear you, Y/N!”

“Absolutely, dear,” Tony said quickly, trying to lean up for a kiss. You laughed and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek instead of his lips before dropping a kiss to Morgan’s head. You smiled as Tony easily took over as the color caller, rushing up to your office.

“Why do you need to know a chain stitch?”

“I’m making chains on here,” Peter replied easily, shifting being heard over the speaker, “duh.”

“May has a book with the stitches for beginners, you know.”

“I know, but I’m fried from reading and I missed you. This quarantine stuff is getting old,” Peter explained, trying to prop his phone up on his desk. You let out a quiet sigh, nodding in agreement.

“I know, Pete. I agree completely.” You were quick to open the door that led to your office, immediately shutting the door behind you before heading over to the small station you have for your embroidery specifically. “I wish we could head over there. I’m sure you’re starving thanks to May’s cooking.”

The both of you shared a laugh as you moved to put your phone in it’s little stand Tony had bought you, reaching around to grab a hoop that was already prepared to be embroidered on.

“Okay, let me just thread a needle and I can show you how to do it.”

[lavenderek]

I love when you fix twilight. It's obviously not fix-able completely, but you make it way better. What do you think about how she calls her parents by their first names?.

i think bella’s relationships with her parents are super weird and sometimes even unhealthy. 

some of the things i’m gonna say, i’ve already said before, and they are VERY VERY LONG, but i’m gonna say them again anyway and i’ve watched jenny nicholson videos for like three days straight, so i’m gonna do it in.... a numbered list!!!! 

seriously it’s super long don’t open the readmore unless you want to look at a super long post

1. bella calls them by their first names, but only in internal narration. 

most teenagers don’t call their parents by their first names, so this is odd and distances the reader from her. i’m not sure if it’s supposed to humanize her parents?

her parents would be humanized if they were acknowledged by the role they’re supposed to be playing in bella’s life; most of her readers would be seeing her as The Typical Teenage Girl, so having her parents be seen as entities separate from her who operate as peers instead of parents is bizarre. 

furthermore, she never does this in dialogue. she only does it in internal narration. 

so is this supposed to make her seem more mature and independent? bella isn’t independent; she’s provided with all her needs by her father, including emotional needs. when edward leaves her in the second book, her father takes care of her and ultimately considers having her go back to live with her mother again, because clearly bella is in need of some parental support. put a pin in maturity, i’ll get back to that in a second. 

if it’s not to make her seem more mature, then it’s just a weird stylistic choice so that the reader knows her parents’ names, which - why? i’m sure when chief swan is talking to his friend and his friend calls him charlie, we will understand through context clues that his name is charlie. also, us knowing her parents’ names doesn’t add anything to the story. bella treats every side character as an obstacle in her life, so we gain nothing from knowing her dad’s name. 

it makes sense for her to call her stepfather phil, but she should call her parents mom and dad. 

2. bella is “super mature” 

ouch! i pricked my finger on the pin i put in maturity. yowie!

we hear a lot about how mature bella is. she condescendingly tells us that her mother is stupid and describes her father’s inability to feed himself. is this true? 

her mother got married and has begun a life with her new husband. her father is a grown-ass man who has kept himself alive for what, forty years? they never do anything particularly immature except one time stephenie meyer has her dad accidentally microwave a can of soup at some point (has he never had soup? in the whole decade since he and renee got divorced, has he been soupless the entire time?). i don’t know that fucking up a can of soup is immature so much as a mistake, but go off i guess. 

so maybe she’s not more mature than her parents, but surely she is just mature in her own right. let’s see all the mature decisions bella makes just in the two years we are present for. 

bella gets a head injury in a car accident. she resists the advice she receives from a medical professional to rest, and plans on not telling her mother about it. she’s even pissed at her dad when he tells her mom. 

bella meets edward and senses from the jump that he’s lying to her. he gives her mixed signals that make her uncomfortable. he and many people in his life talk often about how he could kill her, how much he wants to kill her, but that he is holding back. she decides that she is safe based on her own feelings (she is objectively incorrect about this, by the way, regardless of how her story ends) and chooses to date him anyway.

bella catches the attention of a man who wants to kill her specifically. she does not tell her father. instead, she insults him and runs away from home. she then runs away from the people who are assigned to protect her, because she believes she knows better than they do. 

edward breaks up with bella. i think most people after the ending of a relationship would go to their room and cry and process those feelings of sadness and abandonment. but bella’s not like other girls. she’s mature and has deep emotions. she refuses to accept the breakup and spends hours wandering around in the woods, forcing everyone in her town to go around in the night looking for her. okay. 

she gets a part-time job at some point. but so does her classmate mike, and also 55% of teenagers in her age range (when the book is set, which is in the mid-to-late 90′s). 

oh, but wait, then she withdraws all her savings and uses them to purchase and fix up a motorcycle - a thing she is specifically not allowed to do - in order to spite her ex boyfriend. at this point she has abandoned her plans to become a vampire, so there’s no reason to assume she won’t be going to college in a couple years. with what savings will she be paying the tuition? i’m sure her school counselor will understand when she explains that she spent it all on a motorcycle. 

we are told bella is very mature and stephenie meyer clearly expects us to draw this conclusion based on how bella does her chores without being asked; but when it comes to major decisions about her safety, her future, and the effect she has on others, she repeatedly makes selfish and childish decisions. she hurts her parents, her friends, and herself, a lot. she does all of this based on her own intuition.

and actually, a lot of it tracks with her being a teenager. teenagers are not adults. they biologically do not yet have the full capacity for decision-making. that’s why they’re not adults. bella is not more mature than her parents and her belief that she is is demonstrably dangerous. she really needs more discipline in her life. 

3. bella and her mom

bella is very sad in the beginning of the book. she loves her mom and sees her mom as her best friend. 

she demonstrates her closeness by: 

lying to her mom that she wants to live with her dad, because she believes renee will be happier without bella, her supposed best friend. renee does not notice that bella has lied or question this decision. 

putting off emailing or calling her mom for several days, which makes renee angry. when she finally does, she basically just lists the things she’s done and logs off. 

refusing to share information with her, including that she was injured in a car accident, because she believes renee will be upset. her dad calls renee anyway, and bella is angry and is incredibly reluctant to call her back and talk to her. 

ignoring her emails for months when she’s sad over her breakup. 

visiting her exactly one time in the whole two years spanned in the books. her mom is also never invited to come visit bella in forks. 

renee’s absence from bella’s life actually works for the plot, as she can’t interfere with bella’s duplicity, while leaving the option to add an element of guilt from afar. but it doesn’t make sense as a character decision. 

i think it would make way more sense if bella and her mother aren’t close. bella wants her mom to show interest in her life. she suggested moving in with her dad in the hopes that her mom would be like, “no, honey, stay, i’ll miss you if you go,” but renee doesn’t even question it, she just books her a ticket. 

bella checks her email immediately when she arrives, and hasn’t heard from her mom, so she sends her an email herself, to which she gets a response like, two days later. 

bella calls her mom and gets her answering machine. renee is on her honeymoon and she and her new husband are in the process of moving to another state, so bella reasons that her mom is just busy; but she is also dealing with the knowledge that she’s just not a priority for her mom. 

yeah, this is very sad and makes renee seem like an asshole, but maybe she is an asshole in this version. it would neatly remove renee from the plot, it would explain why bella is so bummed about living with her dad, and it would lay the groundwork for why bella is so gutted when she perceives edward breaking up with her as being abandoned. bella believes she is not worth staying for. 

4. bella and her dad

i don’t even know where to start with bella and her dad. he seems great to me. 

he is the chief of police.

he knows and is respected by everyone in town.

he has friends and hobbies. 

as i said before, he has fed and clothed himself his whole life - at the very least in the decade since his divorce.

...so he seems like a reasonable person and member of the community. 

he treats bella with respect and offers her privacy, but he is always available when she needs help.

he notices and tries to intervene when she’s struggling. 

he has an amicable relationship with his ex-wife and they communicate about their daughter regularly. 

he bought bella a truck and put chains on the tires so that it would be safe for her even when it’s cold and wet out. 

...so he’s clearly an involved and caring father. 

bella goes through a serious depressive episode in new moon after her breakup with edward, and her dad responds to every bit of it. 

he wants to find out why she is upset. 

he is aware of how she’s doing in school and whether or not she’s seeing her friends. 

when bella has night terrors, he jumps out of bed to comfort her. 

when jacob deliberately lashes out at her and triggers another depressive episode, he immediately steps in and calls jake’s dad. 

he is told bella is at fault, but he takes bella’s side and chooses to believe her side of the story. 

throughout her depression, he never once judges her for it. 

after what he perceives to be edward hurting bella and being a bad boyfriend (which - he is observably not wrong about that), bella’s dad is openly against bella dating him again. 

...so he cares for and advocates for bella’s emotional state. 

if bella expresses gratitude or appreciation for any of these things, it’s sort of bitter and backhanded, like “at least charlie leaves me alone.” he fucked up trying to make dinner one time, to which she responds by refusing to let him cook ever again. bella dates edward twice before eclipse, and both times she went missing and then came back injured; so chief swan tells her he doesn’t think she should be dating edward again, at which point she puts down ultimatums and threatens to leave. bella ignores his rules and requests, keeps secrets from him, and runs away from home a few times because she believes she knows better than he does. 

no matter how many times charlie proves himself, it never changes bella’s opinion of him. there’s no arc there. bella arrives thinking her father is incompetent, and she leaves thinking her father is incompetent. 

making bella disrespect her father does benefit the narrative by enabling her to be secretive and makes her feel even more isolated in her experiences. it also makes stephanie have to write about less characters. but bella being secretive and isolated just results in her being stuck in the same situation for like 75% of each book. i think it would make sense for her to want to fix things, even just a little bit. 

there’s no reason for her to disrespect charlie, so her unfounded feelings of disdain toward him are confusing and just make her look like a dick; and furthermore, not giving him a character arc just makes him a boring obstacle. he might as well just be a door that gets stuck shut whenever it rains. 

i think it would be a better idea, for character development, for bella to grow closer to her father over the course of her stay with him. i would like, at least two of the times bella disobeys him, for her to ultimately conclude that he was right and she shouldn’t have done the thing. i would like her to eventually open up to him about some things. 

she doesn’t have to share that the cullens are vampires, but of all the people in her life, who has experience with having a romantic partner with whom he envisioned a future break up with and leave them? it would make sense for her to confide in him - or at the very least, seek comfort from him. 

bella trusting her father’s judgment and showing caution dating edward again after the events of new moon would also be better for the story, and i have more thoughts about that but that’s for another post. 

and probably biggest of all, your only tenuous link to emotional acceptance and fulfillment should not be your romantic partner. that’s so weird and unhealthy. bella is a teenager who, in general throughout the books, feels unmoored and stressed out. she needs someone sturdy and reliable who she can trust to protect her, even if it’s only emotionally. this would also give bella someone to bounce her thoughts and feelings off of and reduce the monotony of the narration a little bit. 

her father is an excellent choice for that. he repeatedly demonstrates that he is in her corner, and her corner alone. (i also think vampires should be just a little bit easier to kill, so that chief swan can protect her just a tiny bit.) 

5. why

stephenie meyer has children herself and it’s so weird to me that she would write a teenager deliberately disobeying and lying to her parents and consequently placing herself and many other people in grave danger, and framing it as a good thing. she makes it clear that bella was correct in doing this. 

bella’s not the only one, either. edward allegedly sees carlisle as his father figure, but A. this was not consensual, and he is frequently unhappy that carlisle bit him and made him a vampire; and B. he often disregards or gets angry about carlisle’s advice. 

wouldn’t stephenie meyer want to know if her son was hurting, or in danger? wouldn’t she want her son to respect her? wouldn’t she want to be able to share her wisdom and help her son make safe choices?

she does make it clear in interviews that this is pretend and she doesn’t believe readers should be seeing her characters as role models; but she made her characters teenagers on purpose, and it strikes me as kind of irresponsible to act as if she assumes her young readers won’t try to identify with them. 

bella’s relationships with her parents are boring and unusual, and the older i get the more frustrating they are. they stifle the characters and make the plot repetitive and tiresome. these are relatively small changes that i think would benefit the story overall. and that’s my opinion, thanks guys