#also how's he getting to new york. hitchhiking again???

[vulpinesaint]

please tell me they're gonna tell me how eddie brock broke out of jail on his own. not that i don't believe he could do it by himself but i wanna hear what silly shit he pulled

[dexteri0us]

no, i don't want nothing crazy; just wanna get you alone; and all of this snow is falling; i can make you fall too

pairing: best friend's dad!dexter morgan x f!reader

warnings: fluff, domesticity, harrison (listen, i'm not a fan of his, but he serves a purpose), age gap (both reader and harrison are in college), best friend's dad!dexter, smut - shower sex, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, dom!dexter

summary: requested: "shower sex with dexter? please and thank you 🙏🏻"

w/c: 6.9k

a/n: i honestly love new blood and i will always consider it a christmas tv. merry christmas!🎄

Spending Christmas in Iron Lake wasn’t your initial plan, but now that you thought about it, it was for the better. You were supposed to spend Christmas with your dad this year. It also included him picking you up in Iron Lake and driving you to New York, but he backed out at the last minute. You weren’t even surprised at this point; he always went out of his way to let you down. Or maybe it was just your perception. After all, he said the same thing about you.

Going to your mom’s wasn’t an option either, not with her boyfriend in the picture. He was a carbon copy of your dad, not just in appearance in attitude too. Arrogant, dismissive, and always acting like spending time with you was beneath him, especially when you were a teenager. He’d never really made an effort to connect. So, you were pretty happy to get into college and move into the dorms. But that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted to spend Christmas alone.

You couldn’t ask Harrison to take you either because he had plans with Audrey.  

“Fuck.” You muttered, reading the text from your dad.  

“What’s wrong?” Harrison asked, glancing up from across the table. A smudge of clung to the corner of his mouth as he took another bite of his cheeseburger, his eyes briefly scanning the diner for a waitress that would bring him another cup of coffee.

“Dad bailed on me. I’ll probably have to hitchhike to get to New York.”

“What? No way! I’ll drive you,” he said immediately.

“Harrison.” You gave him a look. “You promised Audrey to help her and Angela with the charity drive.”

“Out of all people, I think Angela and Audrey would understand.” 

You raised a brow at him, knowing full well he’d argue until he was blue in the face, but you weren’t about to let him ruin his plans because of you. You were big on keeping promises, and you sure as hell weren’t going to be the reason someone broke theirs.

“Well, you can always spend Christmas with us. My dad won’t mind.”

And that’s how you ended up swapping the couch for the bed with Harrison every night, spending the first of many Christmas breaks with the Morgans. Well, technically the Morgan-Lindsays, but to you, Harrison’s dad would always be Mr. Morgan.

When you first called him that, he just stared at you, almost startled, but Harrison had quickly jumped in to explain. Not to you, to his dad, that you just couldn’t get used to the difference in their last names. He seemed to relax a little after that, though he still looked kind of stiff most of the time.

Sometimes, you wondered if he didn’t like you, or if your presence made him uneasy. But Harrison had reassured you that he was always like that. He’s just weird like that. Don’t take it personally.

So, you didn’t. And truth be told, over the next Christmases you spent with the father-son duo, you became more comfortable around Mr. Morgan – or Jim, as he insisted on calling him. “Jim” just felt unnatural to you, so usually, you just settled for “hey” to get his attention. But every now and then, “Mr. Morgan” would slip out of your mouth. And truth be told, you thought he liked it.

Eventually, it would become like a running joke between you two.

One night, during your second Christmas in Iron Lake, you caught him with that amused smile on his face when you said it again.

“What?” You asked, passing him a plate to dry as the two of you cleaned up after dinner. Harrison was in the other room, button-mashing his way through a video game.

“What?” Mr. Morgan asked, glancing at you with mock confusion.

“Every time I call you Mr. Morgan, you look like you’re holding back some big inside joke.”

“Do I?” he said lightly, his brows furrowed, but the smirk formed by his lips didn’t falter.

“Yeah.” You snorted, as if it was the most obvious thing. “It’s weird.”

“Weird? I’ll have to talk to Harrison, he’s bad influence.”

You just rolled your eyes. You weren’t going to kid yourself. You had developed almost a feet-kicking crush on him and his teasing wasn’t helping. You felt like a little girl with a silly crush on her classmate.

You remember how reserved he had been, intense, when you met him for the first time. It had made you a little bit uncomfortable, but paradoxically, you preferred that to some pretense-interest in your life. He already knew about your situation with your dad and your mother – or more specifically, with her boyfriend.

You loved Harrison, but he kind of had a big mouth on him, and he had told his dad. You could tell from the way Mr. Morgan avoided the subject altogether. Honestly, it was refreshing. Audrey’s mom asked about your parents every year – polite but a bit probing, sometimes you felt like she was judging you and or maybe thought there was more to the story. You didn’t blame her, though. First, she was a cop, and second, they were your family, after all. At least, by blood.

Still, you felt more welcome here than you ever did with your parents. Mr. Morgan made it so easy too, even if things had been a little awkward at first.

The first Christmas you spent in Iron Lake, you ended up in the woods with Mr. Morgan, collecting firewood. Harrison made sure you felt comfortable being alone with him, and you did, it was just a little awkward.

You didn’t know what was weirder – spending Christmas in Iron Lake, or trudging into the woods along with your best friend’s dad. He didn’t exactly scream “festive cheer” with his quiet, no-nonsense demeanor.

Harrison had once told you that he wasn’t always like that. Apparently, there had been some kind of hunting accident, back when Harrison was learning how to shoot. He’d hit his dad, barely missing the heart, but he'd survived. Harrison described it as a Christmas miracle, but from that moment on, Mr. Morgan just hadn’t felt the need to celebrate Christmas like he had the years prior.

You watched him move through the snowy woods with certainty, like he already knew exactly which trees to check for fallen branches.

“So, uh… you do this every year?”

Nice. Real charming. You were a master in manipulating professors into extending deadlines. How are you so bad at making casual conversation?

“Pretty much,” he replied without looking up, crouching to grab a branch half-buried in the snow. “Wood-burning stove keeps the place warm. It’s more reliable than the heater.”

“Oh.” You nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at you. The cool air bit into your cheeks, your boots crunching in the snow as you followed a few steps behind. Then you tried again. “I mean, I guess it makes sense. You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d be big on central heating.”

You tried to joke, but he stopped for a moment, straightening up and glancing at you with a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “What kind of guy do I strike you as?”

“Well, you know.” You shrugged, trying to not get distracted by the joke going over his head. “The ‘off-the-grid cabin’ type. Knows his way around a woodchipper. Probably has a couple of tarps in the trunk, just in case.”

He watched you, probably waiting for a smile to crack, but your expression remained serious. You started to think maybe you’d gone too far. But then he finally snorted softly, pointing the branch in your direction.

“Tarps are versatile.”

His delivery was deadpan too, so dry it caught you off guard. Was that… a joke? You couldn’t tell, but you let out a laugh anyway. You decided to just role with it.

“Right. For winter emergencies.”

He didn’t respond, just gave a faint nod as he tossed another branch onto the sled you’d brought along.

“You’re doing fine,” he said after a moment, his tone surprisingly reassuring.

It made you scoff, your breath puffing in the cold air.

“Thanks Mr. Morgan, I was really worried about failing Firewood 101.”

You really enjoyed spending time with him like that, even though he didn’t talk much. But the way he adjusted his pace so you wouldn’t fall behind, stepped on a stick that was stubbornly stuck to the sole of your boot, or helped you with a stubborn log trapped under the snow made you feel like you didn’t have to try so hard.

When that Christmas break ended, you felt kind of bittersweet, because you knew you’d now see him only occasionally when he’d visit Harrison in New York. That is, if you were lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time. But the year went by like nothing, and lo and behold, Harrison had invited you to spend another Christmas with them, saying that his dad brought it up first. To Harrison, it meant nothing, to you? Every-fucking-thing.

So now, during the second Christmas with the Morgans, you were doing domestic shit with him, like washing dishes while he was teasing you. It made your body all jittery with every passing moment. Hell, you didn’t even mind that he didn’t have a dishwasher, because you liked doing dishes with him. And Harrison was grateful for that too. See, everyone was getting something out of it.

“Maybe I just think it’s funny. You’re so committed to it. But I guess it’s better than calling me hey.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Okay, you brought that on yourself. No offense, but Jim just doesn’t suit you. It’s too basic.”

He had that faint smile on his face again, his eyelids dropped as if he was having a whole inner monologue again, but you didn’t call him out this time.

When that Christmas ended, you didn’t have to wait long to see him again. Harrison started inviting you to every holiday – Easter, Halloween and Thanksgiving. Of course, you couldn’t make it to all of them, but you did appreciate the extra time you got to spend with Mr. Morgan. He’d even helped you, Harrison and Audrey move them into their new apartment in New York. And you were too naïve and paranoid, so you thought he was doing it all for you.

So, next Christmas, you decided to come prepared.

“You can’t give her another necklace. Try to be original,” you said, sipping on your coffee, watching Harrison rub his temples as he tried to think of a Christmas present for Audrey.

“Okay… okay.” He sighed, letting his hands fall to the table, grinding his teeth as if he was contemplating his thoughts. “I have an idea. But it’s big and you’re gonna laugh.”

“Okay. All the more reason why you should tell me.”  

He took a deep breath, and then, he spit it out.

“I bought her a ring. An engagement ring.”

Your eyes widened and your lips broke into a huge smile. “No fucking way. Are you fucking kidding?”

“See? I knew you were gonna laugh at me.” He rolled his eyes and fell back into his seat, crossing his arms like a child.

“I’m not laughing at you. That’s amazing, Harrison. Oh, my God.”

“But?”

You stayed silent for a moment, figuring out a way to put it gently. “But… Audrey hates clichés.”

He closed his eyes in exasperation.

“Fuck.”

“No, hey. You can propose to her, but maybe don’t make it the main thing, you know.”

He sighed, rising to his feet with a small scowl on his face.

“Hey,” you said softly, “I’m so happy for you two. And she will be too.”

You exchanged smiles before he made his exit. You leaned against the back of the seat and looked out of the window to your right side, still smiling. You wondered if Mr. Morgan and Angela knew.

You got back to the crossword puzzle you put under your plate, munching on the bagel to fill your stomach and enjoying the faint Christmas music playing from the speakers. The waitress had just refilled your cup when someone slid into the booth across from you.

At first, you didn’t look up, assuming it was Harrison again, maybe realizing he’d forgotten something. But when you finally glanced up, you were met with a face you hadn’t expected.

“Morning,” the man said, his voice smooth and polite. It made you sit up just a little bit straighter.

“Uh, morning.” You smiled back.

“I couldn’t help but notice you sitting here alone,” he continued, leaning forward just slightly. “I’m Kurt. Kurt Caldwell.” He extended a hand across the table, his palm up.

You introduced yourself, putting your hand into his. You’d heard about Mr. Caldwell. They’d said he was a very kind and fair employer, someone who took care of his own. But after his son's death, he'd vanished from the public eye for a while.

For such a small town, there was sure a lot of accidents. Tragedies. On the brighter side, the number of of missing women cases dropped in the past few years, so that's that.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No, just visiting,” you said with a smile but remained cautious. After all, he was a stranger. And you’re not one to underestimate the stranger danger rule. Not even in a small community like this.

“Really? We don’t have many visitors this time of year, Christmas tends to keep people close to home. You staying with family?”

“Friends,” you corrected.

“That’s nice. It’s always good to have people you can rely on during the holidays.”

You offered him another polite smile, unsure of what to say. He seemed harmless, but people randomly coming up to you were instantly weird to you. Welcome to a small town.

“You know, if you’re looking for something to do while you’re in town, I run a little truck stop just outside the main strip. Got a great diner there, too, and we’re always looking for friendly faces to stop by. First meal’s on me.”

“Okay, I’ll think about it,” you replied, laughing with him.

You pretended to get back to your puzzle, hoping he’d leave you alone, but before he could say anything else, the bell above the diner’s door jingled, and you heard your name.

You turned to see Mr. Morgan standing in the doorway, his presence commanding. He scanned the booth, his eyes landing on Kurt before flicking to you.

“Oh, hi.” You waved awkwardly at him as you watched him stride towards your table.

“Harrison forgot his gloves,” he told you, even though his gaze was locked on Kurt.

“Oh, right. I’ll text him.” You grabbed your phone, completely oblivious to the silent standoff happening between Mr. Morgan and Mr. Caldwell.

Mr. Caldwell stood, his smile losing some of its warmth. “Well, I should get going. It was nice to meet you, YN. Hope I’ll see you around.”

You gave him a polite nod and with that, he turned and walked out of the diner.

Mr. Morgan waited until the door closed behind him before he finally spoke.

“You okay?”

You hit send and looked up.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You asked, brows furrowed.

“Just checking.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathed out, grabbing the empty sugar packet on the table and crumpling it in his hand. “But next time, maybe stick to sitting with people you actually know.”

This time, his tone was firm, almost scolding. You blinked at him, taken aback by this side of him. Now that you thought about it, you had never seen him pissed. And you didn’t know how to react. Your muscle memory took over for you, feeling the need to get defensive.

“Okay… I wasn’t – he just sat down. I didn’t –”

“Finish your breakfast. I’ll drive you back.” He interrupted, glancing out the window one more time as he watched Kurt’s truck disappear down the road.

You weren’t sure if it was the way he was ordering you around, or the way his hand hovered over the small of your back as he led you out of the diner, or the darkness that spread across his face, but something was sending shivers down your spine.

That evening, it was the first time you touched yourself to the thought of Mr. Morgan. You started wearing more revealing clothes, nothing fancy, just simple shorts and tank tops that would just show your skin, even though it was literally freezing outside. Overtime, you got bolder, getting close to him when Harrison wasn’t looking, unnecessarily leaning over him or brushing against him with your ass. When it was your turn on the couch, you’d purposefully stay uncovered, hoping that the tight shorts would ride up your ass while you were sleeping, to bring a little diversity to his early-morning routines.

He was a smart man. He knew what you were doing. And unfortunately for you, he was resilient.

“You sure you aren’t cold?” he’d asked once as you mixed the batter for gingerbread cookies, leaning casually against the counter behind you. And when you turned around, you saw his eyes flick from your exposed legs to your face. He did exactly nothing to hide it.

“I’m sure.”

You gave him an innocent smile and returned your focus to the batter, smirking to yourself.

“It’s below freezing outside.”

Yeah, tell me about it.

“Exactly. Outside. That’s why we collect firewood, right?”

“Hmm.”

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he studied you. Or tried to intimidate you? Honestly, you had no idea. “Doesn’t really explain why you’ve been walking around dressed like it’s summer for the past week.”

You paused, holding the bowl against your ribcage as you turned to face him.

“Maybe I’m just trying to liven up this place. Bring some Miami energy to Iron Lake.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “Miami energy?” He repeated the words like they amused him, though his tone was dry. “Interesting choice.”

Your cheeks flushed and a shiver ran down your arms – and not from the cold. Maybe, just maybe, you should have kept your mouth shut. Harrison had told you that they’d moved from Florida. But you didn’t need to mention that part.

You were waiting for him to say something else, but he didn’t. He just stared at you, with that expression on his face that said that you were crossing a line. He made you too aware of your whole being – your skin, your lips, your eyes, everything was twitching or at least it felt like it was.

Gulping down the lump in your throat, trying as much as you could to make it unnoticeable, you turned your back to him again. He didn’t say anything more, and when you heard him walk away, you finally felt like you had space to breathe again. You hoped he at least checked you out one more time before leaving. Your cheeks still burned with a mix of embarrassment and frustration, and your body ached with an unfulfilled desire that he seemed intent on ignoring.

But still. He wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted you to believe. You just needed to figure out how to crack him.

Sometimes, less was more. So, the next evening, you decided to try something else. You’d packed a pair of thigh-high, cable-knit burgundy socks that you almost never wore – you found out quickly it was too impractical for everyday use. You thanked yourself for not selling them on Vinted, because now, they had a perfect use.

They clung perfectly to your legs, and you paired them with an over-sized sweater that was barely covering your thighs, leaving a teasing strip of skin visible when you moved. And that was the only thing you were relying on. Well, that and your sweater riding up when you’d stretch yourself up to hang the Christmas decorations.

You slid into your Birkenstocks and took a deep breath. Showtime.

You had been at the cabin alone, but you knew exactly when he was coming home. You’d timed it all perfectly, waiting until you knew he’d walk in and see you in the middle of something. Harrison wouldn’t have noticed the outfit, but Mr. Morgan noticed everything, even when he pretended he didn’t.

It was quiet as you set up for decorating, untangling the mess of Christmas lights while waiting. Any minute now. And then, you felt a gust of icy wind as Mr. Morgan made his entrance. You glanced over your shoulder, greeting him with a fleeting smile, pretending not to pay him too much attention.

“How was work?” you asked as you started to wrap the lights around the mantle, focusing on draping the string evenly.

“Average.” He said as he threw his car keys into the bowl by the door. “Did the cold finally get to you?”

You smirked to yourself, proud that you made unable to resist commenting on your clothes. First thing that came to his mind. Meaning the image of you in your usual shorts must've been lingering somewhere in his had. It had to be.

“Yeah, you were right. I wouldn’t want to spend Christmas in bed, on the cusp of dying,” you said, feigning defeat. “Where’s Harrison? He was supposed to help me.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “I don’t know.”

Well, you did. He was still at the tavern, because you told him you’d start at around nine. It was around six o’clock.

“Never mind." you said with a small shrug, turning to adjust a strand of lights. "At least I don’t have to listen to how everything's at the wrong angle.”

That earned a fait snort from him. His boots thudded against the floor as he crossed the room.  “You need a hand?”

“No, thanks. But you’re welcome to supervise. You’re good at that.”

“Funny.”  

“Is it?”

You reached for the next decoration – a thin garland of cranberries – and stretched up on your tiptoes to hook it around the nail, feeling the hem of your sweater ride up, baring the tops of your thighs. You could almost feel the moment he noticed by the way the silence in the room sharpened.

“I should’ve bought you some proper clothes for Christmas.”

Oh, my God. You couldn’t believe it worked.

“Really? And what would you consider proper, Mr. Morgan?”

You turned to face him, watching his eyes darken, his pupils dilate as his eyes flicked to your legs and then back to your face, his jaw tightening slightly. “Something warmer.”

“Warmer?” you echoed, glancing down at your cozy outfit. “I thought this was perfectly appropriate for decorating.”

“Appropriate for what, exactly?”

You tilted your head, the corners of your lips quirking upward as you shrugged playfully. “For making the place feel festive.”

“Festive.” He repeated with a strong voice. “If you say so.”

You stepped closer, your fingers fiddling with a stray cranberry that had fallen into your hand. “You don’t approve?”

Oof. Well, go big or go home.  

His posture shifted, straightening just enough to make him seem even taller, making you crane your neck to hold the eye contact. “I didn’t say that.”

A tiny victory. You nearly let your grin slip, but you had to hold it back. You still didn’t get what you wanted.

“Well, if you have any decorating tips, I’m all ears," you said casually, turning your attention back to the box of ornaments. You pulled out another string of lights and moved around the room.

You repeated the same tactics again and again. Sometimes, you bent down deliberately to give him a different angle as he ate his dinner, before retreating to the couch and doing something on his computer. Other times, you stretched a little too far to reach something, the edge of your sweater lifting again, revealing more skin.

The room was finally coming together, warm light casting shadows across the walls, the faint scent of pine and cinnamon filling the air. You collected the empty boxes and stray bits of ribbon scattered on the floor and stepped back to admire your work.

With everything in place, you decided to retreat to the bathroom for a well-earned shower. Stripping out of your sweater and socks, you paused with your hand on the faucet knob, another idea sparking in your mind.

If he wanted to keep his composure, he was going to have to work harder. You hadn't done all of this for nothing.

You grabbed a towel and wrapped it tightly around yourself before heading into the living room, where he was still locked in whatever he was doing on his laptop.

“Mr. Morgan?” you called, your voice intentionally soft.

“Yes?”

He glanced over his shoulder, and his brow immediately fell, his eyes roaming your body yet again.

“The shower isn’t working. You think you could take a look at it?”

For a moment, he didn’t move, his eyes narrowing, trying to decipher your intentions. Shit, he was already onto you and you were scared you’d really scare him away. But then he rose to his feet and made his way to the bathroom. He eyed you suspiciously as he walked by you, but you just gave him an innocent smile. He disappeared into the bathroom, the faint creak of the old wooden door echoing through the cabin. You followed close behind, feeling the chill of the room raise goosebumps on your skin. The sound of him inspecting the faucet, twisting the knobs, testing the showerhead and eventually the sound of water filled the silence.

“It’s working fine. You probably didn’t turn the knob far enough.”

“Oh. My mistake.”

You stepped further into the cramped space, closing the door behind you quietly and leaning against it, nibbling on your lip.

He turned around, sighing as he was already aware of you caging him.

“YN,” he said, giving you a chance to back out. “What are you doing?”

He stepped closer to you, his sturdy figure towering over you. You shifted your weight from one foot to another, trying to not let your composure slip.

“Well, I thought maybe you could teach me how to fix it,” you shrugged your shoulders, the words stumbling out before you could really think them through.

“You don’t need to know how to fix it if it’s not broken.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers gripping the towel tighter, the only thing keeping you grounded, really. You could be here forever with this back and forth, words felt useless. So instead of saying anything, you rose to your tiptoes and kissed him. It wasn’t bold, not entirely; you lingered just long enough to make your intention clear, then pulled back.

You couldn’t read him, his eyes were closed and his lips still parted from the kiss before he finally spoke.

“This isn’t supposed to happen,” he said, exhaling sharply through his nose.

“Why? Because it doesn’t fit into your routine?” You meant it as a joke, but this was really not the time.

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might walk away. But then he stepped just a little bit closer, his hands bracing on either side of the door behind you, caging you in.

“You can’t even imagine what I’m capable of.”

You probably couldn’t, but it didn’t even matter. You found him attractive, and you wanted him. It was as simple as that.

“You sure you want to take that risk? All because you can’t help but act on your impulses? Last chance. Walk away.”

But you didn’t and you let him know with a subtle shake of your head. And that was it. Whatever restraint he’d been holding onto snapped like a thread pulled too tight. His mouth was on yours in an instant, the kiss rough and urgent. His hand slid from your neck to your jaw, tilting your face just enough to deepen the kiss.

You’d never been with an older man, but man, was this something else. He wasn’t careful about it. Even though he didn’t strike you as the most confident guy at first sight, the kiss convinced you otherwise. It was a stark contrast to your previous boyfriends. They’d been clumsy and eager, but Mr. Morgan – Jim knew exactly what he wanted and how to take it.

You barely had time to catch your breath as his lips left yours, trailing along your jaw, his stubble scraping your skin in a way that made your knees weak. He didn’t waste any more time as his other hand slid up your inner thigh and beneath the towel, going straight to your pussy. You gasped as his finger found your wetness, fighting the urge to shy away.

In no time, his clothes were gone and the towel pooled on the floor. He gripped your hips firmly, turning your bodies around and guiding you under the steady stream of water pouring from the showerhead. The sensation of cool water against your skin was overshadowed by the way his hands roamed your body and pulled you against him, making you dig your nails into his biceps.

“Jim,” you gasped as his cock brushed against your cunt, but his hand shot up to your face, covering your mouth.

“No.” He growled. “You picked the wrong time to use that name.”

Your brows knit together in confusion. That name? What was that supposed to mean? 

“Get on your knees.”

Without hesitation, you obeyed, sinking to your knees in front of him, your kneecaps digging into the wet tiles. He shifted his body so his broad frame was shielding you from the stream of water, making you aware of the cool air prickling your damp skin.

The droplets were cascading down his chest and over the taut lines of his stomach. Your eyes lifted from the scar on his left side to meet his, and for a moment, he just simply looked at you. Admired you. Then, with one hand cradling the back of your head and the other stroking his cock, he guided you closer.

You opened your mouth automatically, your lips almost wrapping around his head, but before you made a contact, he gripped your soaked hair and pulled you away, making you shriek.

“Did I tell you you could put your mouth on me?”   

“No,” you said with a small voice.

“That’s right. So, let’s try this again. Who’s in control?”

“You are, Mr. Morgan.”  

You felt your pussy throb from the way he was ordering you around. And for a split second, you were doubting yourself that you could handle it. What if he thought you were pathetic? What if he waited for you to fight back? What if he wanted you to be bratty?

“Hey, look at me,” he said, his voice softer than before, but it was still demanding. His thumb brushed along your shiny lips before continuing. “You’re beautiful. Don’t overthink this.”

Yeah, probably easy for him to say, but you nodded anyway.

“Stick your tongue out. Keep it out.”

You obeyed, opening your mouth wide and letting your tongue rest on your chin. He gripped your jaw again, holding you in place. His cock brushed lightly against your tongue, before letting go of your jaw and bringing his hand to the back of your neck, squeezing, as he guided you down his cock. Automatically, your hands shot up to grab onto his thighs.

“Now, if it gets too much, you tap my leg three times, okay?”

You nodded, the movement of your head with his cock in your mouth making him hiss.

“Show me.”

You tapped his thigh.

“Good girl.”

Your chest swelled with pride as he praised you. This was a whole another level of making you feel good, and you’d never guess it would be coming from your best friend’s father. And not only was he making you feel good, but he also gave you confidence, making you slide your mouth around his cock in a more steady rhythm with him still controlling the movements.

It was slow at first, but you felt that he was holding back, so when he went to pull your head back, you overpowered his strength and instead let his cock slide deep into your throat, making you gag while he simultaneously moaned at the unexpected feeling. He pulled out of your mouth, a string of saliva and precum connecting your lips to the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” he whispered, as his palm wiped your chin. Well, more like spread the fluids over your lower jaw, before he returned his cock into your mouth and fucked it. He finally let go, hitting your throat over and over again, making you gag and cough around him, up until the point tears started sliding down your cheeks.

You were so close to tapping out, but before you could signal to him, he pulled out and leaned down, grabbing your jaw as he kissed your open mouth, tasting himself on you.

“Get up.”

You stumbled slightly as you got to your feet, your knees weak and sore from being in that position for so long. He didn’t give you a chance to steady yourself, grabbing your hips and spinning you around. Your back hit his chest as he guided you toward the tiled wall.

“Hands on the wall.”

As you did so, his hand trailed down your back, lingering over the curve of your ass before landing a sharp smack that made you gasp, and wow. You’d never have guessed that he’d be such a kinky motherfucker.

It’s not like you hadn’t had a guy slap your ass before, but this was just different. You remember being unable to get turned on when your sexual partner would spank you. You remember thinking maybe there was something wrong with you. It’s not like you didn’t like it or like it made you uncomfortable. You just hadn’t felt anything. It hadn’t hurt. It hadn’t sting. It had been like eating plain, salted chips. They taste good, but they don’t really get you excited.

But from Mr. Morgan, it burned, and it was the best feeling in the world. He skimmed his nails against the flesh of your butt, as if tracing the hand-print that was surely forming there. He placed kisses down your back until he was kissing your stinging skin. You shied away as you realized he was now kneeling behind you, but he quickly caught you by the creases where your thigh meets your abdomen, pulling you back to him.

“Spread your legs,” he instructed yet again.

Your heart pounded, the position feeling unnatural, but despite that, you moved your feet apart, feeling the stickiness between your thighs. You flinched as his cold fingers made contact with your pussy, but quickly recovered. He buried his thumb between your pussy lips, parting them as he slid it from your hole to your clit, pressing down harder as he circled the sensitive bud.

Your whole body vibrated, the blood rushing through your body and into your throbbing clit. He kept flicking it with his finger, occasionally slowing down to pull the hood of your clit back to focus on the most innervated part of you. You arched your back, as he brushed over that spot, making your stomach tighten. Then he finally brought his fingers to your cunt, pushing in one, then two fingers. It made you mewl, the way he was carefully sliding them in and out, enjoying every ridge of your walls. You heard him sigh, feeling his hot breath bouncing off your ass. It made you realize how bad you wanted his mouth on your pussy.

And as if he read your thoughts, his fingers slid out of you and to your clit, as he replaced them with his tongue, flexing it and fucking you with it straight away. He was licking up your walls, the wet muscle prodding against them, making you moan. The finger still worked your clit, but when you felt him open his mouth wide and bury his face even further into your ass to get his tongue as far as he possibly could. It made you see galaxies.

When he felt you twitching against him, already trying to get away, albeit unintentionally, he circled both your thighs with his arm, trapping you against him. You were basically sitting on his face and now that his fingers left your clit, he slid his chin lower, his stubble scratching your skin as the tip of his tongue massaged your clit. His nose was buried in your wet hole now, his cheeks squished by your thighs, and you were scared you were going to suffocate him. Unfortunately, it was his fault and his fault only that you stopped caring as soon as you heard the squelching sounds of your pussy as his tongue kept delving into you. That’s what he did, he made you selfish. He was bringing you closer to the edge and the only thing you cared about was falling.

And with his tongue flicking against your clit, you soon felt the knot in your stomach tightening, until you let go. Your release poured out of you and he was catching it all on his tongue, licking everything up.

Once he got every drop, he stood to his full height, his arms encircling you. I made you feel safe, secured. One of his hands landed on your breast, squeezing and pinching your nipple as he kissed along your neck and then your shoulder, waiting for you to fully come down. You let your head fall backwards against his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck.

He smelled so good. Or maybe it was just the undetectable pheromones spreading through the air that sharpened every sense to its peak. You felt like a mess. Your hands itched to adjust your hair, to wipe at the moisture beading on your flushed skin, but you were too scared to move.

“Are you sure?” He asked as he pressed closer, his cock prodding at your cunt.

“Yes.”

And then he finally fucked you. Your back arched instinctively into him as he started thrusting, finding a steady rhythm. His hand slipped lower, tracing the line of your hip before dipping between your thighs again, spreading your pussy and grazing the nail of his finger over your clit. His hips moved harder and harder, the sounds of wet skin slapping against each other, his moans and your whimpers filled the room, the stream of water coming from the shower making a bad job at obscuring it. He was hitting that spot inside of you over and over again and combined with the sensation of his fingers on your clit and his teeth pressing against your shoulder as he licked the water from your skin made your knees buckle. He was going to leave a faint imprint, that’s for sure.

He was getting close too, or at least you thought so from the way he got louder and more high-pitched, fucking you faster. He wasn’t gentle about it. He wanted you to come hard around him, and it was working. You were getting closer and closer, and when he sank his teeth a little harder into your shoulder, not sure if it was intentional or in the heat of the moment, that name escaped your mouth on its own again.

“Jim–”

And in a snap of a finger, his hand shot up to your mouth, covering it and leaning your head back against his shoulder, his lips ghosting your ear.

“Dexter,” he said, his hand sliding down to your neck and lightly pressing against your throat. Your brain was mush, you didn’t know what he meant, your brows knitting in confusion as you tried to focus on what he just said. “Fucking say it.” He growled when you didn’t react, pinching your clit and giving you a particularly hard and deep thrust as he stopped him movements. 

“Dexter,” you moaned immediately. You just wanted to be good for him.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he praised as he started fucking you again until you were coming around him. It made your whole body convulse. You hinged your hips to press against him and at the same time, to escape his wicked fingers. You brought your hand down to cover his on your pussy, thinking maybe it would bring you relieve from the overstimulation, but it did exactly nothing at all. You kept coming, coating his cock in your cum, making it easier for him to slide along your pussy walls, but harder for him to keep his cock from sliding all the way out. You were so slippery, your cunt clenching around him which brought him to his own edge, finally spilling himself inside of you.

Gradually, he slowed down until he eventually removed his cock from your pussy and freed your sensitive clit from his fingers. He did manage to slide them to your hole one last time, scooping up your mixed cum as he brought his hand in front your faces and admired it, his breath hot against the nape of your neck as he rubbed the juices between his fingers. You watched it slowly disappear under the running water before he let his arm fall to your hip, turning you around. He pressed his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, breathing heavily, before opening them again, his eyelashes catching the drops of water from the shower.

“Next time, I’m fucking you in those socks.”

[tixersdotcom]

In the previous episode of "The Torso Killer Confessions," we saw how Richard Cottingham mercilessly killed multiple women. In this episode, we will see more details about other women he killed in New Jersey and New York in the late 1960s. Detective Robert Anzilotti spent most of his career trying to get confessions out of Richard Cottingham, and he became obsessed with the cold cases on his desk. According to the detective, he became more protective as a father after hearing the gruesome ways Richard Cottingham killed his victims. Richard appeared to be a typical father of three during the day, commuting to Manhattan for his well-paying job as a computer programmer from his home in suburban New Jersey. Cottingham's facade of respectability, however, crumbled as night descended. He would then go around Times Square and take prostitutes to hotel rooms and kill them there. He also torched most of the hotel rooms to tamper with the evidence. He was caught for murdering five women, but Detective Robert Anzilotti had a gut feeling telling him that Richard was responsible for more murders. After the horrible experience he shared with the judge during his trial for Nancy Vogel, Richard was not ready to talk to Detective Robert. However, that changed when Detective Robert started gaining his trust again. When Detective Robert got promoted to chief of detectives, Richard took pride in it and implied that Robert was in a higher position because of him and his confessions. According to Robert, Richard never showed remorse while confessing to his crimes. During one of his meetings with Richard, he revealed that he had killed an 18-year-old woman by strangling her to death in the spring of 1969. She had gone missing one evening as she waited for a bus to take her back to her mother's house. Her name was Irene Blase. After hearing the gory details about how he killed Irene Blase, Detective Robert conveyed the sad news that he had discovered Irene's murderer, who was already in prison for the rest of his life to victim’s family. However, Detective Robert wanted Cottingham to continue speaking, but in order to do so, he made an odd deal with the victim's family. He asked the family if he could close the case without charging anyone, in order to get justice for the others, Irene's family agreed to the deal and let Robert close the case. After some months, Richard confessed to another murder, that of a 15-year-old girl named Denise Falasca. He lured her into his car and promised her a lift. However, he raped her and then killed her. Even though he said he didn't enjoy killing, the forensic psychologist on the show believes he did enjoy killing the victims. His youngest victim was a 13-year-old girl named Jackie Harp, who was going home after marching practice. When Jackie Harp refused to talk to Richard, he stalked her and eventually murdered her. In 2021, Detective Robert decided to retire from law enforcement. Over the course of his nearly three decades as a police officer, he was engaged in a psychological game with a serial killer for half of that time. When Richard was informed about the retirement, he asked Detective Robert to reconsider. Cottingham teased him with the prospect of one more revelation. The brutal deaths of two teenagers, Mary Ann Pryor and Lorraine Marie Kelly, who went missing in 1974 while attempting to hitchhike to a nearby shopping center. Detective Robert was just about to give in his badge when Richard started talking again. He acknowledged luring them into his car after they gave up trying to catch a bus to take them to the mall where they intended to shop. He took them to a motel instead and said he watched television with them. He kept the two girls in the motel room for three days and then drowned them in the bathtub one by one. According to Detective Robert, this particular case embarrassed him. Upon hearing the details of how he raped and murdered women ruthlessly, Detective Robert decided he would not let him get away with these murders.

Cottingham appeared in court in April of last year and confessed to killing Mary Ann and Lorraine. He received two life sentences to go along with his 200 years in jail. According to Detective Robert, he was just a game to Cottingham. Even though Detective Robert is now retired, he is still in the minds of the victims' families. He never gave up on the cases he had on his desk and gave his best to bring justice to these families. According to Cottingham himself, he has killed over 100 women. Detective Robert said it was sad that it took him so long to solve these cases; however, it highlights the fact that the police did not give up on these cold cases. Retirement was very hard for Detective Robert since he loved his job; however, he did his job well over the years.

[laurie-stark]

Unwanted-Peter Parker

Summary: Y/n Stark gets more than she bargains for when she joins her Pops, Captian America, for the civil war of the century.

Pairings: Tony Stark x Daughter!Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Daughter!Reader, Steve Rogers x Daughter!Reader, Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Warnings: swearing, fighting

A/N: Just so you don't get too confused, Y/n is Tony Stark's biological child, however, she was raised by the Avengers and refers to Natasha and Steve as Mama and Pops. Also I wrote this a year ago LOL. Enjoy x

Part Two

New York, 2016

This was bad. Very, very bad. I had seen the secretary come in the compound over the screen of the security monitors. He marched into my home, unannounced and unwelcome, holding himself with purpose. I followed him over the screens, tracking his movements. I watched as he was led through the building, up the elevator and into...the conference room? Oh this was bad. Very, very bad.

I raced as fast as I could. By the time I got the to conference room, the whole group was already sitting in front of the secretary. I saw Wanda first. Her back was to me, but I could see her rigid frame and I knew something was happening. My  father saw me approaching through the glass walls. He shot me a look that said "Don't do it. Don't come in here." I didn't obey.

The secretary stopped speaking abruptly when I walked through the doors. He gave me a quizzical look, did a once over and immediately looked at my father. Surely I don't look that much like Tony.

"Sorry I'm late, no one informed me about this team meeting," I gasped, short of breath from all the running. Of course, this was pushing it. As much as I wanted to be a part of the group, fighting was not my style, so I often got left out of important Avengers activities. I got to live with them, but that was it. Tony rose from his seat. He mumbled an apology to the secretary and gently ushered I out of the room. I would have fought back, but seeing the look on my father's face was enough to shut me up. And I never shut up. The secretary resumed his story. Something about golf and a heart attack.

My dad turned to face me. "Look kid, I get that you want to know what's going on, and you will, but today isn't the day."

"Okay," I said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's okay to be curious," he replied, walking back into the meeting. "Stay upstairs, okay hun?" I nodded and started the trek back up to my room. I shut the door and flopped onto my bed. Out of my long list of pet peeves, this was number one. Sure, I didn't want to fight, but come on family, I should at least get to be in on what's going on! Maybe I could help. I have powers for God sake. I am more than capable of helping the Avengers. But they always saw me as the little girl who needs protection.

"April, pull up security footage of the conference room please," I asked. April, the AI I built, that was modeled after Friday, projected the video surveillance from the ceiling. "Volume up." The group was in the same position as from when I left. The secretary was passing around the room. There was a thick white book being passed around the table.

"The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place," Steve said quietly. "I feel we've done that."

The secretary looked down at him. "Tell me Cap, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?" What? You were so confused. Why did the secretary care where my uncles were? No one answered the secretary's question, so he kept talking. I racked your brain to find the answers on my own. "...this is the middle ground." The secretary pointed at the book, now lying untouched on the table.

"And if we come to a decision you don't like?" Natasha asked.

"The you retire," the secretary responded. With that, he left the room and I scurried back downstairs.

Everyone was in the living room. I sat in the stairwell, again being uninvited to this group discussion. I listened to them fight. I figured out what was going on. The United Nations were being ungrateful little bitches and hated that they didn't have control over my family. So they gave an ultimatum: give in or give up. From the sounds of it, Uncle Rhodes, Vision and two of my four parents were in agreement with the accords. Steve and Sam were against it. Wanda hadn't said a word. Tension was growing high, I could feel it. I heard my father conclude that he won and a thud of the accords being tossed on the coffee table. Someone got up and left. Before I had the chance to act, the door to the stairwell was torn open. Steve pushed through and nearly stepped on me.

"Eavesdropping?" He smiled.

"You kicked me out, what else am I supposed to do?" I retorted. I noticed the tears welling in Steve's eyes. "Pops, what's wrong?"

Steve's glance fluttered to the ground. "Peggy. She, um..." was all he said. All he had to say. I  was smart enough to read between the lines. I stepped forward and hugged Steve. He smiled, grateful that he had me. I knew how much Peggy meant to him. When I was little, he'd always tell me the story about how they met, how they never got that dance. And every time I would make him dance with me. He even took me to visit her once. I was ten and it was Christmas time. Steve told me that he wanted his favorite girl to meet his favorite niece. Now that was all but a memory. I held him tight before telling him to go. It was okay, I could handle the others. He left without a second glance.

Within days the team was scattered. Steve and Sam had gone to Peggy's funeral. Natasha was off to the signing of the Accords in Vienna. And then all hell broke loose when the bombs went off at the signing ceremony. As always, I  were left home. I had no idea what was going on. At first this break in the team was about the Accords, but somehow Steve's old pal Bucky got involved. I didn't know what to think. The next thing I knew, everyone left for Berlin to rescue Steve and Sam from jail, leaving myself, Wanda and Vision at home.

When night fell, I was in my room, sulking as one would say. I was spending my evening flipping through Tumblr. There was a new superhero everyone was talking about. He called himself Spider-Man. New York based, focused on small neighborhood crimes. By YouTube footage alone, it was obvious he was a rookie. Soon enough, though, I accidentally conducted a full fledged search on this guy. He seemed shady. Sure, he's helping old ladies cross the street and all, but he just has a vibe. I couldn't put my finger on it. April broke me out of my research when she told me that there was a security breach in the compound. I pulled up the security camera footage and saw Clint Barton in my living room with Wanda levitating a knife at his nose.

I rushed downstairs. When I got to the living room Vision was holding Clint by the neck. I watched in silence as Wanda used her powers on Vision. She made it look easy. Slowly, Vision sunk to his knees. Wanda pushed further and the floor gave way. Vision was pushed through all seventy-four thousand levels of the compound. Wanda and Clint were about to turn to run out when you revealed yourself.

"Now was that really necessary?" I smirked. "We just had the floors waxed."

"Y/n," Clint warned.

"I'm not sitting on my ass," I said. Clint smirked and nodded. He knew he couldn't stop me anyways.

One car ride, plane flight and van trip later, I was in Germany. As it turns out, Steve wanted Clint and Wanda on his side, along with some ant dude named Scott. Scott was cool. Him and I sat together on the plane ride and watched Die Hard. He was asleep in the van when we pulled over in the airport parking lot. Clint told me to stay in the van. For once, I listened. I heard voices belonging to Steve and Sam. Clint slid open the van doors abruptly, shaking Scott awake. I chuckled to myself as he fangirled over my Pops. A voice over the intercom said something in a language I didn't know. A voice I didn't recognize said that the airport was being evacuated.

"Stark." Sam muttered.

Scott looked puzzled. Clearly he hadn't been filled in either. "Stark?" he asked.

I step out of the van. "Yes?" Steve and Sam look at me with wide eyes. Clint gave Steve a sheepish shrug. Behind their little blue car stood Bucky Barnes. I knew who he was. I learned about him in school. I knew he was some evil super soldier that attacked Natasha and Steve. He looked scary. He looked exactly like the type of guy to hurt my Mama and Pops. I held his glance until Steve spoke up.

"Y/n, what are you doing here?" Steve whisper-shouted. His voice always got quiet when he 'yelled' at me.

"I hitchhiked." I replied, knowing that at this point Steve didn't have the time to argue with me. He shook his head in defeat and took a deep breath.

"Suit up."

The airport was huge. Our group got suited up and started for the runway. I didn't know how Steve knew where to find my dad, but I followed him anyways. Before I could get any closer, Bucky held me back.

"It's, uh, not gonna be safe. You should stay here and keep low," he said. I frowned. I did not come all this way to not fight. But even still, I nodded. Bucky scared me. He and Sam took off in another direction to find the getaway jet. I laughed. This whole thing was ridiculous. My attention turned to the sound of my father and Rhodey flying down from the sky.

"Ross gave me 36 hours to bring you in," Tony started. "That was 24 hours ago. Can you help a brother out?"

"You're after the wrong guy," Steve replied nonchalantly.

"Your judgement is askew. Your old war buddy killed innocent people yesterday-"

"And there are five more super soldiers just like him. I can't let the doctor find 'em first Tony. I can't."

"Steve," Natasha approached him slowly. "You know what's about to happen. Do you really wanna punch your way out of this one?"

I took this as my cue. "No, but I will," I said, emerging from my hiding spot. I looked at the faces of your family. My gaze fell on Tony and my smile dropped. He looked angry.

"You brought my daughter into this?" Tony yelled, turning to Steve.

"Technically, I brought myself," I said. "You really think you were gonna leave me out of all the fun?"

Tony pinched his brow. "Y/n, this is serious."

"No it's not," I objected. "No, this got personal the second you thought you were gonna loose Pops to Bucky." No one moved after I said that.

"Alright, I've run out of patience," my father finally spoke. He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Underoos!"

Before I had a chance to process, a red and black blur whipped past my head. It landed on top of a nearby van. It was Spider-Man. As in the Spider-Man. He had taken Cap's shield from him. I said nothing. My father could have recruited me, but instead he chose this little neighborhood nobody. That hurt a little. The Spider-thing and my father bantered for a minute. So he's never even been in a real fight before, I thought.

"You've been busy," Steve smirked.

Tony turned back to Steve. "And you've been a complete idiot. Dragging in Clint and Y/n, rescuing Wanda from a place she doesn't even want to leave, a safe place. I'm trying to keep-" he paused, sighing. "I'm trying to keep to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart."

"You did that when you signed." Steve kept his cool. My father did not.

"Alright, we're done. You're gonna turn Barnes over, you're gonna come with us, now, because it's us! Or squad of J-SOC guys with no compunction of being polite. Come on."

Everyone stood still, waiting. Steve put his web-cuffed hands in the air. Clint shot them free from a mile away. I saw Scott -or a tiny version of him. Spider-Man noticed too, right before Scott grew and kicked him in the face. My dad flew off to retrieve Wanda and Rhodey was ready to take on Cap.

"Hey Mr. Stark, what should I do?" Spider-Man asked. He sounded young.

"What we discussed, keep your distance, web 'em up!" My father barked, as he flew towards Clint and Wanda.

"Okay, copy that," Spider-Man replied. He shot a web at me first. It caught my arm and I got whipped to the ground. I glared at him.

"Really?" I hissed.

"Just following Mr. Stark's orders," He said before swinging off after Bucky. I was left on the ground once everyone dispersed. I tried pulling my hand out of the sticky material that was shot at me, but it was stronger than glue. I was forced to watch the action unfold and wait until Natasha ran past me.

"Mama, a little help here?" I called out to her.

She stopped for a second. "Sorry honey, I really don't want you getting hurt." She ran off and I groaned. No one ever wants me to get hurt. I suppose I should be grateful, but in a moment like this, gratitude is hard to find. I started toying with the web. I wondered if I could break down the molecules. Surely there had to be some sort of H2O compound in it somewhere.

My power surged through me, the current flowing to the hand webbed to the ground. I managed to manipulate the water out, just as I predicted I would. The substance melted off my hands. Gross, I thought. I wiped the remaining web on my pants and got up. The water from the webbing fell to the ground with a splash.

I stood up and examined my surroundings. Natasha was on the ground fighting Scott, who shrunk down and flipped her over her own head. The Black Panther was on the other side of the roof, battling Steve. I didn't move. As much as I wanted to be included, I couldn't bring myself to fight. Not now at least.

The two teams assembled, divided by a line on the pavement. How cinematic. I was on Cap's side. I never meant to fight against my father. If anything, I thought it was funny. I looked out at the team in front of me. They were all lined up, Rhodey, the cat, Tony, Nat, the Spider-brat. Vision hovered above them. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of my neck. I were scared. I wasn't made to fight.

"What do we do Cap?" Sam asked.

"We fight." Steve moved first. We followed in suit. My dad's team mimicked my team's actions and walked closer. We  broke into a jog and then a full out run. This was really about to happen. I hoped that my family would go easy on me. I knew what I was doing. I reassured myself of that. I have done a bunch of training, especially with Wanda. I could move the freaking elements with my mind and manipulate gravity! As if the Spider-Man could beat that. I am Y/n fricking Stark. I can do this.

I put a smile on your face, contrasting everyone else's bitter looks. "I call the spider!" I yelled, just as everyone began the battle. Spider-Man heard me and slowed down just a bit. I cocked an eyebrow. He resumed his pace and ran straight for me. I ran headfirst towards him. He threw out his arm to web me, but I was faster. With a swish of my hands, I changed his gravitational pull and made his feet flip out from under him. He landed on his back with a hard thud. As gently as I could, I morphed the pavement under him to trap his hands. "Careful there, Spider-boy. Don't wanna get stepped on." I walked away. I made it about ten steps before I heard the sound of concrete cracking. I turned around and saw that Spider-Man was breaking free of his restraints. I was shocked. He has super strength. Great. I should have moved out of his way because the second he got one hand free, I was webbed against a truck.

"For the record," he said, getting up in my face. "It's Spider-Man." He swung off into the airport through a glass window. I watched the glass rained onto the ground. Taking a deep breath, I quickly removed myself from the webs. I needed a plan. A strategy. I thought about at the opposing team. Everyone was scattered around the airport. I thought about who would be easiest to fight. But then I realized, the strategy wasn't about how they'd fight, but who. There was no way in hell that my parents or Uncle Rhodey would even think about fighting me. The Black Panther didn't know me, so he was a threat. The worst Vision could do was pick me up and fly away, so he was in thr safe zone. That left the spider. I smiled to myself. Rematch time.

By the time I found Spider-Man, he had already webbed Sam and Bucky to the floor. He was perched on top of a light post, saying something about impressing my father. Sam's mini falcon whizzed past me and grabbed Spider-Man by the web. He got pulled out a window, banging his side into the pane on the way out. I ran over to Sam and Bucky. Quickly, I destroyed the webbing and helped them up. They both gave me a quick "Thanks kid," before running back out. I followed them, staying loose on their trail.

Once I got outside my eyes scanned the area for the Spider. I saw Wanda piling cars on my father and Natasha fighting Clint. Then I spotted him, fighting Cap. He was underneath a jet bridge . Cap threw his shield at the support beams and the whole thing fell on top of Spider-Man. He caught it of course, but Cap ran away. I formed my plan.

"Hey!" I called out. I walked around the collapsing jet bridge. I stood in front of the struggling boy. Or man, I didn't know. "Remember me?"

"Heh, how could I forget such a pretty face," he grunted, starting to fold under the weight of the jet bridge. "You wanna give me a hand?" I glared at his face comment, but lifted the jet bridge anyway. He ran out and I let it fall. Both of us stopped for a minute, gasping for breath beside the rubble. He was close enough to hit. So I did. Without warning I threw a punch of air at him. It hit him right in the chest and he got blown back into the side of a van. "What the hell man?" He got up and shot a web at me. I dodged and threw another gust of wind. It shot him out of the air. He webbed at a pole and swung past my face. I redirected his gravitational pull, but not before he got a kick to my face. We both got thrown in different directions. I landed hard on the ground, pain shooting up my spine. I got up first, now angry. Forgetting about my powers, I lunged at him and threw a punch. I missed and he shot webs at my feet, holding me down. Immediately, I dissolved them and Spider-Man's eyes widened. Well, his mask's eye holes did anyway.

"How did you do that?" He yelled. "What kind of witchcraft-"

"Its not witchcraft," I spat. "It's called manipulation of the elements, look it up. I figured there had to be some water compound in this and I was right. All I had to do was remove it."

"That's so cool! And how did you do the foot thing earlier? Was that just the wind you do or do you have telekinesis too? Are you like the Scarlet Witch?" He rambled on. I took this to my advantage and caught him off guard. I used the van he'd hit earlier to become his gravitational pull and yanked. He went slamming into it and groaned. When he tried to get back up, I was already five steps ahead of him. Morphing the earth metals in the van, I contorted it into a shell that crushed Spider-Man until he was covered and stuck.

I heard Scott say that he was gonna tear himself in half over the earpiece. I got distracted from holding Spider-Man down and turned to see a giant Scott. Spider-Man broke free. He tore the shell off himself and threw it at me. I was wacked across the side and fell the the ground again.

"Holy shit!" he says, looking at Scott. His back was to me and I gave him one last wind push. He fell on his face and I laughed. "Oh come on, don't you have some dolls to play with or something?" I just scoffed and walked past him, stepping past his hand that was on the ground. He let out a yelp and you kept walking. Dolls, I thought. I'm thirteen I don't play with dolls. I watched as the rest of the battle went down. I wasn't quite sure what to do. I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

Natasha was standing just behind me. "Come with me." We started jogging off. It was natural for me to listen to her. I realized about five seconds in that technically she was my enemy right about now, but I shrugged it off. I ran through the fight, past the big Scott and towards a warehouse. I could see the outline of a jet get bigger as I approached it. Natasha stopped behind the entrance. She was waiting.

"So what do we do?" I asked.

"We wait to fight," She replied, not taking her eyes off the horizon. I came to realize this probably means I would be fighting her. Maybe she wanted to use me as a hostage or something. No, that's silly. Right?

Steve and Bucky got closer to the building I was in. They nearly made it until Vision laser beamed the shit out of a nearby communications tower. Wanda caught it before it fell, giving the two men time to race towards the jet. I stepped out to help Wanda. The both of us were able to hold the rubble long enough for Steve and Bucky to get through. I panted, proud of myself for getting this far.

A searing pain sliced through my brain. Both myself and Wanda fell to the ground, screaming. I could barely look up to see that Rhodey was sending some sort of wave through the air. The tower fell and Natasha was quick to haul me out of the way before I got crushed. I might be better than Spider-Man, but I definitely don't have his super strength.

Steve and Bucky still managed to get through the falling paces of metal and concrete. Natasha left my side and marched swiftly towards the two men. I couldn't hear them, but I could sense the tension from a mile away. Natasha lifted her arm, taser aimed and ready. Steve held his shield up in defense as Natasha shoots....the Black Panther? I guess she's on our side now? The jet started to take off and you watch an Natasha continues to battle the Panther. I fell to my side, wiped out.

My father flew into the warehouse just as the jet leaves. You thought maybe he was going to fight Natasha for betraying him. I was wrong. He was coming for me. He landed beside me and dropped to his knees. His helmet closed and I could see the worry plastered on his cut up face. He knelt beside me and gently held me up.

"Are you okay?" he asked. I nodded, not really able to make words. He looked over at Natasha, who was looking at us. She had an apologetic look, but I know she doesn't regret letting Cap go. My father let me go and charged off after the jet plane. I lied down, enjoying the feeling of cold concrete against your skin. I closed my eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I paced around the living room, driving Nat crazy. I knew that the second my father got home I would be in deep shit. So when Friday alerted me that Tony was home my heart rate went up 29373%. The battle, this fight, it ended worse then I could have imagined. Natasha told me that my father could have died. Rhodey was paralyzed from the waist down. I had no idea if I'd ever see my Pops again. This was bad. Very, very bad.

I slowly walked down the main hall towards the front doors. I was scared. My hands and the back of my neck were sweating. I knew exactly what was coming. Every time I had asked my dad if I could be an honorary Avenger, I got the same lecture. That it was too dangerous, I didn't have the proper training and it's too much for his little girl to handle. Even when I asked to just be a part of the business side of the team, Tony laughed and said no. I've broken a lot of my father's rules, but this was the line. And I had gone so far over.

As I approached the front door, I could hear my father speaking. I heard another voice too. My heart dropped. It was Spider-Man. Why was Spider-Man here? I ducked behind a wall and listened in to the conversation.

"...outstanding job kid. Your fighting technique was on par. And, listen, I know we're not allowed to have kids on this team, but if we need you again, we'll call." I heard my father say.

"Thanks Mr. Stark. This was so cool," Spider-Man replied. I wondered if he had his suit on or not. I wanted to know who this guy was. I revealed myself from behind the wall. The two looked at me. I looked at my father first and fought the urge to burst into tears. He looked awful. His face was all cut up and the black eye he got was still a little swollen. I glanced at the figure beside him and frowned. Spider-Man was a kid. He looked like he was my age. He had a mop of curly brown hair and doe eyes. He was almost equally as beat up as my dad and I gracefully took credit for that.

"Y/n, this is Peter. He's, uh, one of my interns. Kid, this is Y/n," Tony said. My annoyance turned to anger. Now my father was lying to me?

"How old are you?" I asked, eyes narrowing. I knew that I sounded rude, but this kid had kicked me in the face twice. I didn't think he deserved my manners.

"I'm fourteen," Peter gulped. A year older than me. And I kicked his ass, I thought. "You gave me quite a fight back in Berlin."

"Yeah and I beat your ass doing it."

"Speaking of which," Tony spoke up, "I have to talk to Y/n about that. Happy will take you home Peter." Peter nodded and said goodbye to my father. He said goodbye to me, to which I didn't reply. Peter frowned at that as he walked out the door.

My dad turned to me when the door shut. "What," he began, "were you thinking?"

"Well I-"

"No. This is where you listen. Do you know how dangerous that mission was. Do you know how many people got hurt? You saw what happened to Rhodey, that could have been you!"

"But it wasn't" I retorted.

Tony's frown deepened. "That is not the point. You put yourself in serious danger, and for what? So you could feel a little more included? You could have died. This was my one rule, my one ask of you, and your broke it."

"Oh, come on now, I'm a Stark, it's in our blood to not listen to our fathers." My father gave me the coldest look and I shut down. I took a deep breath. "Look, I didn't know that it was gonna be this bad. You know me, daddy, I'm not a fighter, I'm not some hero. You think I would have gone if I knew it would turn out like this? I thought this was just gonna be another one your you and Pops' stupid fights. And yes, I could have gotten hurt, but I think I handled myself pretty well. You saw what I did you that little protege of yours. I beat him to the curb."

"Y/n you were reckless. Peter was prepared for this, he was ready."

"And I still beat him."

"Y/n you're not listening to me. This is why I chose Peter over you. I would have taken you if I knew you wouldn't do something stupid. But you did anyway." And with that he walked away, leaving me, teary-eyed in the front hall.

Tony came by my room later that night to apologize. He said that he was sorry for being harsh, that he just cared about me and I scared him. I knew he meant it and I forgave him, because that's what we do. Besides, it wasn't Tony I was angry with. This is why I chose Peter over you. Tony's words echoed through my head. I knew that he loved me more, I'm his daughter, he had to. But I were jealous. Jealous that stupid Peter Parker got the praise for the work I've wanted to hear for ages. And mad at that stupid spider for being stupid.

This is when I decided that I hate Peter Parker.

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | The Demoniacs (Rollin, 1974)

This review contains mild spoilers.

Jean Rollin’s Demoniacs begins with the horrific rape of a pair of sisters by a group of pirates. Well, not quite. It actually begins with an introductory sequence where we see cackling portraits of the four pirates, along with narration telling us for their cruelty. These pirates are known as “wreckers”, the kind of pirates that don’t sail the high seas but instead live on the coast and lure ships towards them so that they can plunder the wrecks. Then we get to the horrific rape, followed by the pirates hanging out at a bar, seemingly falling apart from the guilt of their crimes. When one of the barmaids sings about wreckers, the head pirate angrily shouts that wreckers no longer exist, which is a great way to tell everyone you’re a wrecker. Their victims come into the orbit of a clown and a priest, who introduce them to the power of the devil so that they can seek revenge. I won’t reveal how this proceeds, but let’s say that A) things don’t go according to plan and that B) the devil here is not the force of evil he is in most works, but rather like the benevolent devil in Petey Wheatstraw, the Devil’s Son-In-Law, where the devil offered the hero played by Rudy Ray Moore magic revenge powers to get back at the rival standup comedians who had all of Moore’s friends and family killed for the meager price of marrying his monstrously ugly daughter, which Moore then tried to weasel out of. Again, I won’t spoil too much, but let’s say the complications here are not the result of the devil pulling a fast one.

I admit I struggled with this one. Some of the Letterboxd reviews suggest that this movie is an attempt by Rollin to grapple with the exploitative nature of his movies. This is an interesting point, and I think between this and the parody roughie elements in Schoolgirl Hitchhikers, I have detected a certain discomfort on his part in dealing with a certain meaner strain of horror. But I don’t think this works narratively, as the movie never commits to a specific perspective. With the pirates, we only meet them right as they’re committing the rape, and only have descriptions of cartoonish villainy for background, so whatever guilt they feel after the fact, we never really feel complicit in their actions. The most lively of the pirates is a pervert played by Joelle Coeur, who flaunts her body and gets off vicariously on the others’ cruelty, yet whatever sexual pleasure she derives from their evil acts is observed with relative detachment, instead of something the movie invites us to share. In contrast, I think of the way something like I Spit On Your Grave has us spend time with its rapists before they commit the act. I don’t think that movie is aiming for as complex a set of feelings, but I think it helps the movie greatly on a dramatic level that we understand the kind of toxic mindset and group dynamic that defines these characters.

And with the victims, we’re obviously supposed to sympathize with them as the aggrieved party, but the movie never gives us much sense of them as actual characters. In part, it’s because Rollin defines them as mute and deprives them of dialogue. (I think this is a case where defining a character by their disability in a horror movie is a clear negative.) In part, it’s that the performances aren’t strong enough to breathe life into these characters. I think of Brigitte Lahaie and Cathy Stewart in The Night of the Hunted and Francoise Blanchard and Marina Pierro in The Living Dead Girl, and I don’t feel the same humanity coming through in the portrayals here. But I also think Rollin wants us to see them as symbols of victims instead of actual people, which I think also undermines the dramatic thrust of the movie. So their quest for revenge feels like a spectator sport, something we watch and root for, but we never feel we have skin in the game.

I chased this with Lost in New York, and I think of how much more surely that movie grounds the proceedings in a specific perspective, so that the sense of wonder that colours the movie is something we feel in our bones rather than observe passively. It really is a lovely little movie, and provided a nice ethereal contrast to the dourness of this one. Still, because this is a Rollin movie, we do get plenty of that classic Rollin style, particularly in the way the characters are framed against the wreckage and the ruins, dwarfed by the sense of desolation, giving their own despair a sense of inevitability. The most stylish stretch of the movie comes right at the end, where the brutality of the proceedings is juxtaposed with the anger of nature, as the tide rises and thunder booms on the soundtrack, while Coeur writhes maniacally in the sand as she watches. It’s undeniably a striking and forceful sequences, but it’s also one I found hard to get swept up in, as the movie never embraces the perspective of either the heroines or the villains.

[juliathephantom]

JATP Fanfic Recs: Multichapter Edition

* indicates complete

'Stupid Cupid, Stop Hitting On Me' by Bluefire510

Juke

Luke, a troublemaker cupid, meets Julie, who is also one of Love HQ's toughest cases to crack.

She claims to have no desire to fall in love.

But Luke is always up for a challenge.

Let's see if he could get Julie to fall for her Perfect Match by next Valentine's Day.... and maybe teach her all about love while he's at it.

*Operation Hashtag Rulie by where_you_go

Reggie/Luke/Julie

“Explain yourselves,” Caleb ground out.

“Uh…it’s not what it looks like?” Reggie tried, wincing.

“Oh really, Reginald? Because it looks like two of my most popular band members from a family-friendly band are fornicating in public!”

-

Julie and Reggie get caught up in a PR misunderstanding that leads to them "dating" for a few months. It's not a big deal, or at least it wouldn't be, if Luke would stop acting so weird.

*Unexpected by Phantom_Lover

Luke is determined to breeze through his senior year and onto mega stardom (which means avoiding school, and Principal Lessa, as much as possible). That is until he's forced to work side-by-side with quiet good-girl, Julie Molina, on the big end-of-the-year talent show. The two struggle to see eye to eye, and meeting the all-important deadline seems impossible until something unexpected happens between them.

keys to the cage (and the devil to pay) by HearJessRoar

Juke, Willex

Julie Molina has always thought it would be rather exciting to meet a pirate.

Unfortunately, she's right.

"Julie, Julie Patterson, I'm a maid here in the governor's household," she bluffs. And she wishes that Luke's name hadn't been the first that she'd come up with, because the long-haired pirate's eyebrows raise immediately.

"Luke got married?" he says, sounding oddly betrayed.

His blonde companion looks equally gutted. "He didn't even tell us."

Piss Off Your Parents (Date Me To Scare Them) by TheNameIsBritney

Willex

Alex Mercer doesn't want to go home for Christmas; but if he has to, he's certainly gonna raise a little hell. Enter: Willie, the cute guy in his history of English class who would be the perfect fake boyfriend candidate.

So if you wanna piss off your parents, date me to scare them, show them you're all grown up. If long hair and tattoos are what attract you, baby then you're in luck.

*i'll hold your music (here inside my hands) by musicals_musicals

"Your soulmate must love music just like you do”

Julie is 3 years old, enthusiastically playing a small plastic piano, the first time she sees her string.

It makes sense that music would connect her to her soulmate.

or

How Julie finds her way back to music, joins a band, falls in love, and meets Luke Patterson (not necessarily in that order)

*a masterpiece in motion, more beautiful every day by fairylightsandrainydays

Willex, Juke

Alex Mercer is a merboy with a fascination for the human world. Willie is a prince who he saves from a storm. And Caleb Covington is the sea witch who is going to make Alex's dream come true.

So long as Caleb gets what he wants.

*days go by and seasons change (lets try again next winter) by itsagamefortwo

Juke

julie's ready for a year away from home, studying and trying to re-find the magic in music. luke's about to start on a summer tour around europe opening for a band. they meet one night, sparks fly and emotions run high. now they've just got to try and see if they can maintain a long distance friendship.

Who Could Deny These Butterflies? by xxPrettyLittleTimeBombxx

Juke

“I know this is going to sound kinda crazy…but, could you maybe pretend to be in love with me for a few minutes?”

—

When Julie Molina approaches Luke Patterson at a bar and asks him to pretend to be her boyfriend, she never expects to find herself in a position where she and Luke have to keep up the ruse for longer than five minutes. Figures that out of all of the strangers she could have approached that night, she’d gone and picked the one guy who just so happens to be in a rock band that’s on the brink of blowing up.

*relight that spark by @ruzek-halstead

Juke

julie molina has had nothing but a tough life. after losing both her parents early on, she was left in the care of her step-monster karen and her two step-daughters. while working at her late father's diner, completing household duties and being at karen's beck and call at all hours, julie was well on her way to getting accepted into the college of her dreams and having enough money to move out.

and then one day she received a text message from an unknown number. it started out innocent, crossed wires based on a flyer she put up three years ago.

this is the story of julie molina and her prince charming, and everything in between.

i never saw you coming (and i'll never be the same) by ruzekhalstead (@ruzek-halstead)

Juke

julie molina, a new student to uc berkeley, secures a job at a tiny, run-down grocery store, where she meets a group of people who inadvertently become some of the most important people in her life.

there's nothing like suffering in the workplace with your co-workers to solidify a bond.

a look into julie's life in a brand new city, as told by the customer service experience throughout the months.

an oddly specific grocery store au that no one asked for but i'm writing anyway to satisfy my brain

*Love Drunk by captainkippen

Juke

Thirty-two missed calls. Fifty-eight texts waiting. Over one hundred various social media notifications. A deep sense of foreboding took over. Julie swallowed. Slowly, she lifted the phone back to her ear.

"Flynn… what happened last night?"

After a night out in Vegas, Julie and Luke wake up to find themselves married. Hijinks ensue.

*So that's how it happens by echocharm (@echocharm17618)

Juke

But it had to be today. Julie had this crazy feeling in her stomach. Not nervous butterflies. More like fireflies that were trying to zap her (Do fireflies electrocute people? She should google that). It felt like that moment her parents spoke about all the time. The day they met. And when they first spoke to each other. Her mom always says that an intense zap went through her whole body.

Are you new or nervous? Julie has been waiting a (short)lifetime to hear those words be said to her.

She walked down a few more steps in the auditorium and found a spot. It was one of the few seats left in the room that wasn’t all the way up in the back. She sat down and settled into the uncomfortable, hard, plastic chair and took a deep shaky breath. The prof was nowhere to be seen. But there was a cute boy in the seat next to her. He had sort of long brown hair that was covered with a grey toque. And he was wearing a cut off t-shirt and you could see his very nice arms. Julie’s breathing was still shaky, and his attractiveness wasn’t helping the situation.

*we're too young to know things like love by Ephemeral_Joy

(@lydias--stiles)

Juke

The various ways and situations people notice the connection between Julie and Luke, whether that be a close friend or a complete stranger.

(started as a 5+1 fic and then i kind of went rogue. oops.)

*and i know i've kissed you before, but i didn't do it right (can i try again?) by Ephemeral_Joy (@lydias--stiles)

Juke

Some things just can't be fixed with a song.

(Julie and Luke break up.)

*The Infamous Tale of Luke and Julie's Grand Trip Across America by Ephemeral_Joy (@lydias--stiles)

Juke

In any normal situation, Luke wouldn't let this random girl hitchhike with him across America.

Then again, he wasn't normal. And neither was she.

(or: the roadtrip!au no one asked for)

*We Found Wonderland by ICanSpellConfusionWithAK (@pink-flame)

At the end of season one Julie isn’t able to save the boys and they are jolted out of existence. But what if there was another way? Julie finds herself back in 1995 with a chance to stop the boys of Sunset Curve from ever dying at all. But will she be able to find her way home afterwards? Will she want to? Or has Alice really gone down the rabbit hole this time...

A Moment of Quiet Conversation by JackONeillisTheMan

Juke

Julie and Luke talk about how he was the one who introduced her to rock. Then just fluff, more and more fluff.

*Feels like I've opened my eyes again by ICanSpellConfusionWithAK (@pink-flame)

Juke

After the whirlwind her life has been since the boys showed up it’s not that surprising that Julie would be a little tired. But is it normal that she’s more exhausted than she’s ever been? With Nick acting weird, Alex and Reggie both wrapped up in their own problems and her relationship with Luke still a big question mark, she has her work cut out for her if she’s looking to sit back and relax.

Basically my ideas and speculation about what season 2 might hold, or at least some of the things I would like to see.

find the strength, find the melody by sunset_phantom

Juke

An AU in which the boys are alive, Julie has been kicked out of her music program, and she somehow ends up falling in love with Luke in three days while he simultaneously brings her back to her first love of all: music.

after silence, wake me up by Vargynja

Juke

Julie hasn't been able to make music after her mother's death. She lives in New York working as an assistant for Luke, working hard to move forward in her career.

Luke finds out he's about to be deported back to Canada. A panicked lie leads them to fake a relationship to get married so he can stay in the country. Despite working together for two years they aren't close but a trip to Alaska to visit Julie's family might change that

Based on the premise of The Proposal (2009)

[softpine]

Could we get another you don't have to read but it's interesting text post?? 👉👈

omg i hope this is what you meant, but umm here’s some backstory about griffin’s roommates? because even my nameless extras apparently need deep lore in my mind?? fjkjsd

TW: mentions of drug addiction, homelessness, religion, abuse, and biphobia. + me not being able to stop talking ever.

jeremy; 19. gay. [also the guy from this post.] jeremy grew up smack in the middle of the bible belt. his parents wanted him to grow up and be a pastor like all the generations before him. he was a model child and no one expected him to run away, so his parents actually thought he was kidnapped when, on a random tuesday, he left in the middle of the night with nothing but the clothes on his back. the police found him wandering towards the bus stop just a few hours later and dropped him back at home. everyone then repeated the same cycle again and again for years, before jeremy’s parents got fed up and agreed to legally emancipate him if he agreed to just stop embarrassing their family. he finally hit the road on his own when he was 15.

he met griffin at a train station out west a while later. griffin had just left his aunt’s house, and neither of them had any place to be. jeremy is the one that taught him how to pickpocket (although there was a lot less flirting involved in jeremy’s method – he relies heavily on the “dumb tourist desperately needing directions” angle). but jeremy can never stay in one place too long, so he left. a year later, they happened to bump into each other in another state and decided a coincidence like that was too big to ignore. so they started traveling together and eventually ended up in nyc, where they stayed. (well, kinda. jeremy disappears for weeks at a time and comes back with all kinds of stories.)

griffin sometimes gets pissed because jeremy likes to equate their 2 childhoods, but they were really nothing alike. sure, jeremy’s family was oppressive and he could never be himself around them, but they were wealthy, they loved him, they never laid a hand on him, and they’re still hoping he comes home someday. jeremy didn’t leave because he had to, he left because he wanted to. but he can’t seem to grasp the difference. still, he listened when griffin told him he should reach out to his family and let them know he’s okay. now they have scheduled phone calls once a month and they’re all happy with that amount of communication. 

all in all, jeremy is still a kid. he loves comic books, action figures, the atari he & griffin split 50/50, and going to the movies. he’s always looking for the next big adventure or something to make him feel more alive. unfortunately, that’s taken him to some darker places with drugs and alcohol, but he’s doing okay right now. he was worried about moving into an apartment because he thought it would make him feel too trapped, but he actually likes having a place that he chose, that no one is forcing him to be at. oh and no, he and griffin have never dated. jeremy just doesn’t know what personal space means. 

eddie; 34. straight [but probably aro/ace in modern terms]. he’s already been divorced three times, which he assumed is because he's a pushover, never fights for anything or takes his own stance, and seemingly lacks passion in every aspect of his life. for almost ten years, he worked as a personal accountant in the upper east side. his days were mundane: he ate the same breakfast (oatmeal), the same lunch (ham & cheese sandwich), and the same dinner (chicken noodle soup) every day. somewhere around the time of his third divorce, he realized he wasn’t going to find fulfillment unless he searched for it, so he quit his job, cashed out his family inheritance, and traveled through europe. as he was living in hostels and hitchhiking and relying on the kindness of strangers, he started to become well-acquainted with the homeless communities in every place he visited. he realized how out of touch he had become, and how privileged he was to be bored with his life. and thus, he had found his passion.

when he returned to new york, he got a new job in finance for a nonprofit organization for the homeless. that was nice and all, but he never got to see the benefits of his work, so he started volunteering at food banks and shelters. that’s where he met jeremy and griffin. jeremy was fascinated by how truly dull eddie is. he kept waiting for eddie to reveal some deep, wild, secret part of him, but it never happened. eddie never even bragged about his adventures in europe; he would always turn the conversation back around to others. by the time jeremy realized he really is that boring, he was already looking up to eddie as an older brother type (and griffin was just along for the ride).

eddie is the one that’s actually renting the apartment and then renting out the extra space to griffin, jeremy, and vincent at dirt cheap rates while they get on their feet. he agreed to keep doing this as long as they all have jobs (pickpocketing doesn’t count) and try to stay clean in jeremy’s case.

vincent; 21. bi. vincent grew up comfortable, but not wealthy, in queens, with his family who emigrated from singapore before he was born. his parents later got divorced, and now he’s the oldest of a combined total of seven siblings, though he’s always been closer to his mom and stepdad. growing up, his grades were just average, he had a few friends but was too shy to be popular, and he wasn’t particularly athletic either – he was on the swim team for a while, but he hated the competitive aspect. his favorite part was staying behind after practice and having the pool all to himself; he would float on his back for hours, just watching the pool lights reflecting on the ceiling. he struggled to fit in at school. this all changed when he started weightlifting during his senior year. he mainly started doing it as a way to keep himself busy, but he soon realized that the more fit he got, the more attention people paid him. he liked that.

soon after, he started his first relationship with a girl, kelly, who he intended to marry someday. they graduated high school together and both enrolled at the same college – though vincent hadn’t decided a major yet – and things were going great. he even came out to her as bi and she took it really well (especially for the time). they were settled into an apartment of their own at 19.

in his quest to figure out his major, vincent took up all kinds of new hobbies, his favorite being drumming. he even started a garage band with some of his friends. they started playing house shows, which ended up being somewhat popular, though they don’t expect to make it big anytime soon. at one of these shows, vincent ran into griffin and they bonded over their love of rock music. when vincent found out that griffin didn’t have a place to stay that night, he invited him to sleep on his couch – understandably, kelly was angry that he didn’t ask first.

kelly got increasingly more upset as time went on and vincent & griffin became better friends. even though nothing romantic ever happened between them (and i sure hope not, because griffin was like 16 at the start), kelly was convinced that vincent was cheating on her and that she was only there to cover for his “true” sexuality. when they inevitably broke up, vincent was devastated. not only that, but he now had to find a new place to live asap. that’s when griffin mentioned that he and jeremy were renting rooms from eddie and that vincent was welcome to join. and that takes us up to the present! (well, the “present” being 1987).

[sgt-paul]

Paul McCartney Is Still Trying to Figure Out Love – The New York Times Magazine

By David Marchese, Nov. 29, 2020

Paul McCartney, like the rest of us, this year found himself with an unexpected amount of time stuck indoors. Unlike the rest of us — or most of us, anyway — he used that time to record a new album. The pandemic-induced circumstances of its creation may mark “McCartney III” as an outlier in the former Beatle’s catalog, but as its title suggests, it does have precedents: Like “McCartney” (1970) and “McCartney II” (1980), the album, out Dec. 18, was primarily recorded by McCartney alone, with him playing nearly all the instruments and handling all the production. “At no point,” McCartney said, “did I think: I’m making an album. I’d better be serious. This was more like: You’re locked down. You can do whatever the hell you want.” Which was a gas, as always. “What I’m amazed with,” McCartney explained, “is that I’m not fed up with music. Because, strictly speaking, I should have gotten bored years ago.”

It seems to me that working on music by yourself, as you did on the new album, might allow for some insights about what you do and how you do it. So are there aspects of “McCartney III” that represent creative growth to you? 

The idea of growing and adding more arrows to your bow is nice, but I’m not sure if I’m interested in it. The thing is, when I look back to “Yesterday,” which was written when I was 21 or something, there’s me talking like a 90-year-old: “Suddenly I’m not half the man I used to be.” Things like that and “Eleanor Rigby” have a kind of wisdom. You would naturally think, OK, as I get older I’m going to get deeper, but I’m not sure that’s true. I think it’s a fact of life that personalities don’t change much. Throughout your life, there you are.

Is there anything different about the nature of your musical gift today at 78 than in 1980 or 1970 or when you first started writing songs? 

It’s the story that you’re telling. That changes. When I first said to John, “I’ve written a few songs,” they were simple. My first song was called “I Lost My Little Girl” — four chords. Then we went into the next phase of songwriting, which was talking to our fans. Those were songs like “Thank You Girl,” “Love Me Do,” “Please Please Me.” Then came a rich vein as we got more mature, with things like “Let It Be,” “The Long and Winding Road.” But basically I think it’s all the same, and you get lucky sometimes. Like, “Let It Be” came from a dream where my mother had said that phrase. “Yesterday” came from a dream of a melody. I’m a great believer in dreams. I’m a great rememberer of dreams.

What’s the last interesting dream you had? 

Last night’s was pretty good.

What was it? 

It was of a sexual nature, so I’m not sure it’s good for the Kids section. Pretty cool, though. Very interesting, dreams of a sexual nature when you’re married. Because your married head is in the dream saying: “Don’t do this. Don’t go here.” And just to let you know, I didn’t. It was still a good dream.

You know, I was conscious of not mentioning the Beatles early in this interview, and you’ve already mentioned them a few times. So let me ask you: The band broke up 50 years ago. You were in it for roughly 10 years. When you’re not doing interviews or playing concerts, how central to your own story of your life are those 10 years from half a century ago? 

Very. It was a great group. That’s commonly acknowledged.

Generally speaking. 

[Laughs.] It’s like your high school memories — those are my Beatles memories. This is the danger: At a dinner party, I am liable to tell stories about my life, and people already know them. I can see everyone stifling a yawn. But the Beatles are inescapable. My daughter Mary will send me a photo or a text a few times a week: “There you were on an advert” or “I heard you on the radio.” The thing that amazes me now, because of my venerable age, is that I will be with, like, one of New York’s finest dermatologists, and he will be a rabid Beatles fan. All of that amazes me. We were trying to get known, we were trying to do good work and we did it. So to me, it’s all happy memories.

“McCartney III” will come out very close to the 40th anniversary of John Lennon’s death. Has your processing of what happened to him changed over the years? 

It’s difficult for me to think about. I rerun the scenario in my head. Very emotional. So much so that I can’t really think about it. It kind of implodes. What can you think about that besides anger, sorrow? Like any bereavement, the only way out is to remember how good it was with John. Because I can’t get over the senseless act. I can’t think about it. I’m sure it’s some form of denial. But denial is the only way that I can deal with it. Having said that, of course I do think about it, and it’s horrible. You do things to help yourself out of it. I did an interview with Sean, his son. That was nice — to talk about how cool John was and fill in little gaps in his knowledge. So it’s little things that I am able to do, but I know that none of them can get over the hill and make it OK. But you know, after he was killed, he was taken to Frank Campbell’s funeral parlor in New York. I’m often passing that. I never pass it without saying: “All right, John. Hi, John.”

And how about your perspective on the work you did together? Has that changed? 

I always thought it was good. I still think it’s good. Sometimes I had to reassure him that it was good. I remember one time he said to me: “What are they going to think of me when I’m dead? Am I going to be remembered?” I felt like the older brother, even though he was older than me. I said: “John, listen to me. You are going to be so remembered. You are so [expletive] great that there’s no way that this disappears.” I guess that was a moment of insecurity on his part. He straightened me up on other occasions. It was a great collaboration. I can’t think of any better collaboration, and there have been millions. I feel very lucky. We happened upon each other in Liverpool through a friend of mine, Ivan Vaughan. Ivan said, “I think you’d like this mate of mine.” Everyone’s lives have magic, but that guy putting me and John together and then George getting on a bus — an awful lot of coincidences had to happen to make the Beatles.

People always ask you about John. I’ve noticed they rarely ask about George, who of course also died relatively young. 

John is probably the one in the group you would remember, but the circumstances of his death were particularly harrowing. When you die horrifically, you’re remembered more. But I like your point, which is: What about George? I often think of George because he was my little buddy. I was thinking the other day of my hitchhiking bursts. This was before the Beatles. I suddenly was keen on hitchhiking, so I sold this idea to George and then John.

I know this memory. You and George hitchhiked to Paignton.

Yeah, Exeter and Paignton. We did that, and then I also hitchhiked with John. He and I got as far as Paris. What I was thinking about was — it’s interesting how I was the instigator. Neither of them came to me and said, “Should we go hitchhiking?” It was me, like, “I’ve got this great idea.”

Why is that interesting? 

My theory is that attitude followed us into our recording career. Everyone was hanging out in the sticks, and I used to ring them up and say, “Guys, it’s time for an album.” Then we’d all come in, and they’d all be grumbling. “He’s making us work.” We used to laugh about it. So the same way I instigated the hitchhiking holidays, I would put forward ideas like, “It’s time to make an album.” I don’t remember Ringo, George or John ever ringing me up and saying that.

How strange is it to share an idle recollection from your youth, as you just did with that hitchhiking story, and then have the person to whom you’re sharing it — in this case, me — know the memory? It seems as though it would be weird. 

It’s quite annoying, David. It’s like people at dinner yawning when I’m telling stories. This keeps happening to me.

I even know the details. You and George slept on the beach. 

That’s right.

Some Salvation Army girls kept you warm. 

Yes.

Then at some point you sat on a car battery and zapped your ass? 

That was George who did that! I have a very clear recollection. He showed me the scar. Let’s set the record straight: It was George’s ass, and it was a burn the exact shape of a zip from his jeans.

Do you remember the last thing George said to you? 

We said silly things. We were in New York before he went to Los Angeles to die, and they were silly but important to me. And, I think, important to him. We were sitting there, and I was holding his hand, and it occurred to me — I’ve never told this — I don’t want to hold George’s hand. You don’t hold your mate’s hands. I mean, we didn’t anyway. And I remember he was getting a bit annoyed at having to travel all the time — chasing a cure. He’d gone to Geneva to see what they could do. Then he came to a special clinic in New York to see what they could do. Then the thought was to go to L.A. and see what they could do. He was sort of getting a bit, “Can’t we just stay in one place?” And I said: “Yes, Speke Hall. Let’s go to Speke Hall.” That was one of the last things we said to each other, knowing that he would be the only person in the room who would know what Speke Hall was. You probably know what the hell it is.

Yep.

I can’t amaze you with anything! Anyway, the nice thing for me when I was holding George’s hands, he looked at me, and there was a smile.

How many good Beatles stories are there left to tell that haven’t been told? 

There are millions. Sometimes the reason is that they’re too private, and I don’t want to go gossiping. But the main stories do get told and told again.

Can you think of one now that you haven’t told before? 

Hmm. I will rake through the embers. Oh, I’ll tell you one! I thought of one this morning. It’s pretty good. I don’t think I’ve told it. You’re going to have to say in the article, “I forced this out of him,” because it’s a bit telling-out-of-school.

I am hereby twisting your arm. 

So when we did the album “Abbey Road,” the photographer was set up and taking the pictures that ended up as the album cover. Linda was also there taking incidental pictures. She has some that are of us — I think it was all four of us — sitting on the steps of Abbey Road studios, taking a break from the session, and I’m in quite earnest conversation with John. This morning I thought, I remember why. John’s accountants had rung my accountants and said: “Someone’s got to tell John he’s got to fill in his tax returns. He’s not doing it.” So I was trying to say to him, “Listen, man, you’ve got to do this.” I was trying to give him the sensible advice on not getting busted for not doing your taxes. That’s why I looked so earnest. I don’t think I’ve told that story before.

Tax filings — that’s some deep arcana. 

I have dredged the barrel.

I know that your goal with making music is to do something that pleases yourself. What’s most pleasing to you on the new album? 

I’m very happy with “Women and Wives.” I’ve been reading a book about Lead Belly. I was looking at his life and thinking about the blues scene of that day. I love that tone of voice and energy and style. So I was sitting at my piano, and I’m thinking about Huddie Ledbetter, and I started noodling around in the key of D minor, and this thing came to me. “Hear me women and wives” — in a vocal tone like what I imagine a blues singer might make. I was taking clues from Lead Belly, from the universe, from blues. And why I’m pleased with it is because the lyrics are pretty good advice. It’s advice I wouldn’t mind getting myself.

There’s a song on “McCartney III,” “Pretty Boys,” that is kind of unusual for you in how the music is sort of unassuming but the lyrics have an almost sinister edge. What inspired that one? 

I’ll tell you exactly. I’ve been photographed by many photographers through the years. And when you get down to London, doing sessions with people like David Bailey, they can get pretty energetic in the studio. It’s like “Blow-Up,” [the director Michelangelo Antonioni’s 1966 film thriller about a fashion photographer, thought to be loosely based on David Bailey] you know? “Give it to me! [Expletive] the lens!” And it’s like: “What? No, I’m not going to.” But I understand why they’re doing that. They’re that kind of artist. So you allow it. Certain photographers — they tend to be very good photographers, by the way — can be totally out of line in the studio. So “Pretty Boys” is about male models. And going around New York or London, you see the lines of bicycles for hire. It struck me that they’re like models, there to be used. It’s most unfortunate.

“Lavatory Lil” is another song I was curious about. That’s quite a title. 

“Lavatory Lil” is a parody of someone I didn’t like. Someone I was working with who turned out to be a bit of a baddie. I thought things were great; it turned nasty. So I made up the character Lavatory Lil and remembered some of the things that had gone on and put them in the song. I don’t need to be more specific than that. I will never divulge who it was.

I have another bigger-picture question. In your experience, how is the love in a marriage different at different stages of your life and in different marriages?

I don’t think it’s different. It’s always a splendid puzzle. Even though I write love songs, I don’t think I know what’s going on. It would be great if it was smooth and wonderful all the time, but you get pockets of that, and sometimes it’s — you could be annoying. To Nancy I’m pretty complex, with everything I’ve been through.

In what ways? 

I’m some poor working-class kid from Liverpool. I’ve done music all my life. I’ve had huge success, and people often try to do what I want, so you get a false feeling of omnipotence. All that together makes a complex person. We’re all complex. Well, maybe I’m more complex than other people because of coming from poverty.

And how do you think about money these days? 

It has obviously changed. What has stayed the same is the central core. When I was in Liverpool as a kid, I used to listen to people’s conversations. I remember a couple of women going on about money: “Ah, me and my husband, we’re always arguing about money.” And I remember thinking very consciously, “OK, I’ll solve that; I will try to get money.” That set me off on the “Let’s not have too many problems with money” trail. What happened also was, not having much money, when anything came into the house, it was important. It was important when my weekly comic was delivered. Or my penpal — I had a penpal in Spain, Rodrigo — when his letter came through, that was a big event. When they had giveaways in comics with little trinkets, I kept them all. Some people would say that’s a hoarding instinct, but not having anything when I was a kid has stuck with me as far as money. You know, I’m kind of crazy. My wife is not. She knows you can get rid of things you don’t need.

You’re a hoarder? 

I’m a keeper. If I go somewhere and I get whatever I bought in a nice bag, I will want to keep the bag. My rationale is that I might want to put my sandwiches in it tomorrow. Whereas Nancy says, “We’ll get another bag.” In that way, my attitude toward money hasn’t changed that much. It’s the same instinct to preserve. One of the great things now about money is what you can do with it. Family and friends, if they have any medical problem, I can just say, “I’ll help.” The nicest thing about having money is you can help people with it.

Something that has been a constant for you musically is your ability to keep coming up with melodies. It’s there on the new album — the melodies all flow. Is your facility for writing a catchy melody ever an obstacle to getting the songs to be more than just catchy? Because a good tune by itself is not always enough to make a good song. “Bip Bop” would be an example of that. Do you know what I’m saying? 

No, I know. “Bip Bop” is not lyrically stunning. I was always embarrassed about that song. Literally, it goes, “Bip Bop / take your bottom dollar.” It’s inconsequential. But I mentioned that to a friend, a producer, a few years ago, and he said, “That’s my favorite song of yours.” So you don’t know what people like. It’s enough if I like it and enjoyed putting it on record and don’t particularly want to think of any more lyrics. I don’t want to sweat it. Sometimes maybe it would be better if I sweated it. Once or twice I tried to sweat it, and I hated it. It’s like, What are you doing this for?

Sixty-something years into writing songs, do you feel any closer to knowing where melodies come from? 

No. There is something with my ability to write music that I don’t think I’m necessarily responsible for. It just seems to come easier to me — touch wood — than it does to some people. That’s it. I’m a fortunate man.

[kyoonqs]

iluso amor ; first part.

↬ summary: Cora has always considered herself elusive, easy to bore and adventurous to the last fiber of her body. One day for no apparent reason, she appears in front of the manager of a globetrotting circus passing through the city where she is temporarily staying to fill her life with magic. Baekhyun, as serious as he is handsome, has no intention of playing a role other than on the main canvas of the circus. He decides to separate Cora from her life of fantasies created by her travels and sets out to show her reality as raw and cruel as he knows it. Or so he believes.

Will time run out too quickly before love and passion devour him and he decides to risk everything for a love that lasts… Forever?

↬ pairing: baekhyun x cora fem!reader.

↬ circus!au ; illusionist!baek x hitchhiker!oc ; strangers to lovers au!

↬ genre: fluff ; romance ; angst ; drama.

↬ length: 2.8 k words.

↬ tag list: @changshapatrol @spacebyuns @fluffyhunnie @soos-goddess @hoho-cham @shadoukiti @sunbyun21​ @mangobaek​ @suhotly​ @pororodks​ @bbhbae​ 

If you’d like to be tagged for future chapters, please let me know! 

↬ masterlist.

↬ author’s note: this is my first time writing a series, hope you enjoy it and any feedback will be appreciated. thanks for reading! ♡

Vanilla, caramel and butter scents invaded her nostrils the moment she stepped on the re-centering and she reminded herself that from now on she should get used to the smell due to her timely madness. Beyond her view, occasionally blocked by some old trucks, a red and yellowish-white circus tent loomed along with several smaller tents and a host of caravans. The largest tent, dotted with gold stars, had a large, deep blue sign bearing the name of the circus and its owner. In addition to a few tethered horses, Cora saw a number of huge cages with animals and all kinds of unsavory people, including some pretty dirty men, most of them encrusted with mud and rust.

She was beginning to regret the moment when she had ripped the worn out brochure from the lamppost and the idea of joining the circus scene rose out of boredom. Yes, that was the case, curiosity had killed the cat and she could not contain herself that late afternoon when she had driven her bicycle past the front of the tents and the multicolored costumes of the artists had simultaneously caught her eye. But now it was not like that, the moment she advanced towards the train car where she was to present herself for the position, everyone stopped what they were doing and fixed their eyes on her. Without thinking too much, she stepped forward steadily as her sneakers sank into the sandy ground and she staggering as she stared at the ticket booth where the same brochure she was carrying was presented.

Away from the scrutinizing stares that once haunted her, she took the steps of the carriage two at a time and froze when she saw him inside. He had hair as dark as molten chocolate and chiseled features that would make his face look too beautiful if it weren't for the firm jaw and menacing frown. Men who possessed that brutal appeal had always attracted her but at that moment she would have chosen someone less intimidating to interview her. She tried to calm herself by reminding herself that she would not have to spend more than a couple of hours with him and that it would all be over as soon as she explained clearly why she was applying for the job, which she was still completely unaware of.

She cleared her throat and began with her introduction, first name, last name, place of birth, previous jobs and reason why she was there - from the latter she omitted boredom as a possible factor. The man in question did not give her a single glance and, of course, did not speak a word. She stared straight ahead, the unyielding lines of that hard profile making her skin tingle.

–“I, I want to learn about the trade...” She swallowed.

–“I'm really interested in the job, whatever it is...” She swallowed again.

–“Bastard.”

Until the man in front of her turned his head and looked at her, she didn't realize what she had said. He arched a dark brow with mild curiosity, as if he wasn't sure he had heard correctly. Her impulsiveness took control and she felt her lips tremble, for it was clear that they didn't share her problems in restraining her inappropriate thoughts.

The metal legs of the chair where he was sitting screeched against the hard floor of the wagon. He stood up, ironed the wrinkles of his pants with his hands and looking into her eyes for the first time, he said in a stern and inflexible voice:

–“You are hired. Meet me after the last show behind the main tent.” And without further ado, he passed her by without giving any other explanation.

She could barely suppress a sigh. She directed a furtive glance at the boy, still nameless and wondered what she had gotten into but an irrelevant part of her was dying for new adventures and without a doubt, he would be the greatest from that precise moment.

–“Ladies and gentlemen, the show is about to begin! Come closer everyone!”

The man who made the announcement was the same man who was encouraging people to buy tickets the day the circus had arrived in town, although now he was wearing a red master of ceremonies jacket. At that moment Cora appeared before the young man in the carriage, leading a black horse by the reins with one hand. It was then that she realized that he was not only the manager of the circus but also one of its performers.

He was dressed in a velvet jacket, a velvet vest with nothing underneath and black trousers tucked into high leather boots that snuggled over his calves. A jewel-encrusted band of all colors surrounded his torso accompanied by fine iridescent chains and some ribbons of razo that fell from his pocket. He also carried a rolled whip hanging from one shoulder. Curious about the skills he would display in the arena –she had gotten one of the dancers to tell her when they would leave and to her surprise it would be the next morning– she followed the man with his eyes. At that moment he saw her. The decision she had made had been too recent to seek a way out and she still did not feel comfortable talking to him. Cora tucked her hair nervously behind her ear and refuse to take her gaze from the horse following him when he began to walk towards her.

–“There are unsavory people hanging around the circus. Until you know how everything goes, stay where the rest of the audience is, always” he told her as he adjusted some rings on his slender fingers.

–“Understood.” She responded, since she had just promised herself that she was going to put forth her best effort and not get carried away by first impressions that day. 

 –“Come in and take a look at the show.” His tone was firm, despite the fact that she was already heading back to where she was previously. 

 –“Wait! What is your name!?” She asked hastily, not realizing that perhaps she had sounded somewhat desperate.

He glanced at her over his shoulder with the corner of his mouth slightly curved. “Baekhyun!” He said, chuckling, and with that he returned to his place in line with the rest of the artists.

She was still feeling hot as she circled the crowd and entered the tent through the back entrance. She found a free spot in the stands. They were weathered white-painted planks of wood, hard and narrow, with nowhere else to rest one’s feet but on the seat of the spectators in the row below. But she quickly set aside her feelins of discomfort the awkwardness when the lights dimmed, a drum roll crescendoed and a spotlight illuminated the emcee on center court.

–“Welcome to the happiest circus in Valencia, welcome to Gran Fele Circus!”

The music exploded, played by a band consisting of two musicians with drums, a synthesizer, and a consola. A lively version of New York, New York began to play and a white horse entered in the arena with a girl who carried a flag with the name of the circus. The other artists followed, carrying colorful banners, smiling and waving to the crowd.

It was the troupe of acrobats that caught Cora's attention; three handsome men and a beautiful woman –whom she identified as the dancer who had helped her earlier– named Laia, dressed in gold sequins, shiny leggings and thick makeup. They were followed by a group of horsemen, clowns, jugglers, and trained dogs.

Baekhyun entered the arena alone, riding his fierce horse, and unlike the other artists, he didn’t wave his hands or smile. As he circled the track, he seemed such a distant and mysterious being. He was no stranger to the presence of the people, but somehow he remained isolated and gave a strange dignity to the colorful display. 

As the show progressed, Cora was amazed at such talent. 

Suddenly, the lights went out and the music died away. A blue spotlight illuminated the master of ceremonies, the only one occupying the dark center court. His voice turned dramatically low and a haunting, folk melody began to play in the background.

–“How many times have we wondered if we were crazy? How many times did someone make us doubt our actions? How many times has someone come before us with the idea of changing our thinking? Sanity makes us useless, many times it is better to be crazy. Life is made for taking risks and if you don't think so, let the next person convince you otherwise...before time runs out.”

The lights began to gradually increase in intensity, the music resounded and Baekhyun entered the middle of a path that seemed illuminated by small streetlights, thin beams of light that danced around him and that were reflected in the small sequins of his suit. With indisputable ease, he untangled the whip dangling from a waistband and sliced through the air in all directions with it. Small particles, like glitter, floated in the air suspended around him. He performed a series of skillfully executed feats that were both daring and dramatic. They had brought a few accessories onto the floor during the emcee's presentation: ribbon targets, fluorescent balloons, chandeliers, and more. Circling the runway, he popped the balloons one by one, and a bright red explosion, like drops of blood, shot through the air with each snap of the whip.

The lights dimmed until only he was illuminated by the spotlight, and he grabbed a second whip and made them pop and dance in all directions with such masculine grace, Cora gasped. The dance was increasing, with faster and faster movements and, as if by magic, the two whips became one. With a powerful twist of his arm, Baekhyun lifted him above his head to set him off in flames. The audience gasped, the lights went out, and the flaming whip danced wildly through the darkness. When the lights came on again, he had vanished.

–“What are you doing here? Hasn't anyone taken you to the motorhome yet?”

Cora roused herself, her eyes snapping open. Looking up, she saw the same deep brown eyes plaguing since afternoon that day. For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was but then everything came to mind: the circus, the manager, the show, his whip.

She suddenly became aware of Baekhyun's hands on her shoulders, it was the only thing that had kept her from falling off the old stool that she had been seated on while waiting for him. She had decided to wait there since it was the most illuminated area around the tent, next to government mandated public toilets where there was still a queue to pass them.

She shifted uneasily under his hands and tried to regain her balance with the idea that he would release her.

–“Could you tell me what time it is? I've lost track of it waiting here for you.”

–“It's about 30 minutes to midnight,” Baekhyun put his hands in the pockets of his coat. Instead of the suit he donned for the show, he wore jeans ripped at the knees and a white t-shirt printed with the word ‘Supreme’ in terms of design. Despite the casual attire he didn’t look any less intimidating.

–“Look dulzura, you will have to get used to my presence, since I will be your guide and housemate from now on”. It wasn’t as if Cora hadn’t tried to do it before, in fact she had been attracted to him the moment she met him, only his personality –and now a whip– had slowed her down. He, at her lack of response, muttered something under his breath and after a sigh, spoke again.

–“Come on dulzura, I'll show you where you'll sleep for the next few months.” He turned and left at a fast pace to where the group of caravans were together, paying little attention to the fact that she had luggage that weighed a ton, the consequence of her idea to buy a memorable garment from each city she had visited until now.

–“Wait!” Her scream had an edge of hysteria, but he seemed not to hear it as he continued walking toward the line of caravans. She rubbed the sole of her sneakers across the ruff, gathering some on the toe of it as she dragged her foot. With a gasp, Cora started walking again. Baekhyun approached two vehicles that were parked next to each other. The closest one was a modern white caravan, it looked spacious inside and on its roof you could see a satellite dish. Next to it was another caravan, dented and rusty that appeared to have been silver previously. She begged to herself that it was the space caravan and not the other.

He stood in front of the ugly rusty trailer, opened the door, and disappeared inside. Cora grunted but conceded since she had stayed in worse places. Perhaps the inside wasn’t as hideous as it looked on the outside. Baekhyun reappeared at the door a moment later and watched as she approached fighting with her backpack towards him. When she finally reached the metal step, he offered her a cynical smile.

–“Home, sweet home, dulzura. Come in and settle”.

Cora had always found the Spanish language something to delight in but this was the third time the nickname had come out of his mouth directed at her and she could swear that the way the word rolled on his tongue and briefly hissed before pronouncing the syllable "zu", surely it was close to the song of the angels that received you when you entered paradise.

She sniffed and climbed the four steps that separated her and...the interior was much worse than the outside. Narrow, messy, it smelled musty and old, with a hint of  mothball. In front of her was a miniature kitchen, the countertop metal, it had spots with peeling paint. To the right of the kitchen, the faded upholstery of the small sofa was barely visible under a pile of books, newspapers, and men's clothing. In addition, she saw an old, medium-sized refrigerator, wooden cabinets, and a bed with rumpled sheets.

Baekhyun stared at her blankly, genuinely doubting whether she had noticed. 

–“It is a small caravan as you can see, but it is comfortable and cozy in the cold. It's all there is and all I have.” 

The bed took up most of the back of the caravan, nothing separated it from the rest of the "rooms", the only thing that seemed to be secluded was the bathroom –which she would make sure to explore as soon as she had the chance. On the sheets there were tangled clothes, a towel, and something she couldn't make out from where she was standing.

–“I think I'll sleep on the couch, it would be better…”

He gazed absently at the tip of his foot, then looked up. She stared into those dark eyes –which depending on the light could be paler or even more blackened– and she felt a chill run down her spine, followed by another strange sensation that she did not want to examine further. 

He slowly raised his hand, adjusting a lock of hair that had been tousled while she was struggling with her backpack, Cora froze and pursed her lips as she felt the softness of his thumb brush the hollow under her ear with something that it seemed like a caress.

–“Do whatever you want, dulzura. I have to go, I still have things to do.” 

Cora gasped when she realized she should have felt danger but her skin had taken the brush of his thumb with pleasure. She felt Baekhyun's insolent hand move away from her hair as he pulled away from her, even though he had left something light on the trailing of her ear. The trailer door swung on its hinges. Baekhyun looked at her and stepped out of it, dropping his gaze from her face to a nonexistent point. Once he was out of sight, she reached for the object that was barely tickling her cheekbone and held the geranium between her fingers with a furtive smile on her face.

↬ This is all for this chapter, I promise to try to write more in the following parts. I will try to update every Saturday. Honorable mention: Oliv (@changshapatrol​) without her this story would be nothing, thank you for your patience and trust in me. I love you, a lots ♡   

[lucisfavoritedemon]

Teen Reader x Avengers x Deadpool

Reader is in a teen version of the icebox because they got caught stealing with their powers (orphaned). The reader has masterd their Teleportation, telekinesis, and healing abilities. When Wade and Russell comes to the prison they start a start a prison riot/escape with the reader. (Think Black ops 1) The reader decides to finally escape the Icebox by starting a prison riot/escape. The reader then escapes they change their clothes and then hop a train going to Denver. The reader gets a job on a farm. Years later the Avengers decide to come on the farm the r is working on, undercover (disguise) to each "buy a horse." However, their plan fails and all of them gets into a fight with the r. The r loses but they join the Avengers with their powers 

Pairing: Teen reader x Avengers x Deadpool (platonic of course)

Warnings: angst, violence, anxiety, cute connection with animals

Word Count: 1398

A/N: requested by @lunchawx. I hope this is what you were looking for. I haven't seen Deadpool in a while so I'm a little rusty in writing the character, but I hope you like it. Sorry it's also so short. All mistakes are mine.

Enjoy!

I sat in my cell wondering how I even got here. Oh wait, it was because I decided to go against my gut feeling, and my friend’s advice, and used my abilities to steal. I just wanted to prove that I wasn’t just some silly, no good orphan. Turns out that’s all I might ever be to society. Now I’m sitting in a high security cell, and bored out of my mind. 

I thought it was going to be a normal day where I would be let out of my cell to eat then go right back inside. That was till I met these two guys, they talked to me while I ate, telling me of a plan to break out of there.

“Alright, I’m listening.”

“I’m Wade by the way, and this is Russell.” One of the men said.

“I’m Y/n.”

They went over the plan, and I knew it was full proof. They had no idea who they were talking to. I guess the guards underestimated me, and my abilities. The plan was in place, all we had to do was execute it.

The next few days went by as normal. I ate my first meal in my cell, and lunch was with the other inmates. I hung around Wade and Russell while I was out of my cell every chance I got. The guards didn’t think twice about my quick connection to these two new inmates. 

Last meal I ate was always in my cell by choice, but on the day we decided to execute the plan I told the guard that I wanted to eat with the other inmates. He allowed it, and didn’t question me. Little did he know what would soon go down. 

I sat with Wade and Russell like I did at lunch time. This time though, they started a fight with another inmate. Russell continued to fight the others, and Wade turned to me nodding for me to get away as all the guards on duty came running to stop the fighting. I ran as fast as I could. I ran to a closet where the extra guard uniforms were kept. I took one, though I knew it probably would fit properly, but I had to get out somehow. 

I kept walking, and headed for the exit of the prison. A guard started to walk up to me asking for my identification due to the riot going on in the mess hall. I read his mind to find a guard who I knew usually got off duty around this time. I then corrupted his thoughts into thinking that I was this guard, and he let me through. 

I walked out, and immediately headed for the train station. I picked the first train out and saw that the next train was leaving in 10 minutes for Denver. I hopped on and was on my way to Colorado. 

As soon as I got to Colorado, I asked around to see who would be willing to hire a 17 year old. One person was very helpful and told me about a very nice farm on the plains that was looking for help. I hitchhiked my way out of the city and headed to the plains to find this farm.

“I want to see how well you work with the animals first before we discuss anything further.” The farmer stated.

I completely understood that. He didn’t want someone who was going to hurt his animals, he wanted someone who was in it for more than just the money. I walked up to one of the more wild horses, according to the farmer, I put my hand out, sending the horse a calming feeling. It let me touch it, and pet it. This astonished the farmer.

“I have yet to be able to lay a finger on him. He came from an abuse case that animal control brought to me.”

I smiled as I kept petting him, “he’s very sweet. He’s just scared that people will hurt him again.”

“You can tell that just by touching him?”

“I can read his body language too, but yeah. He is just scared. That’s all.”

The farmer smiled at me, “you have a real gift. You’re hired. I’ll show you to your room.”

~*~

It’s been almost 4 years since I started working here. I have helped rehabilitate and rehome almost 100 horses, and each month we get more and more. Today I had a whole group of people coming by to look at the new rehabilitated horses. I was sad to see that the horse, Hades, that got me the job in the first place was part of the group of horses being looked at.

I was brushing him out when a couple of cars drove up to the property. I just kept working as the farmer showed them around. The group consisted of five males and one female which I found oddly strange, but I didn’t question it. Then came time for them to look at the horses.

“Y/n here will show you the best candidates, but I’ll start with Hades here. He was a very abused horse brought here four years ago from an abuse/hoarding case. Y/n here has been working really hard on getting him to warm up to people.” The farmer spoke, before leaving me to introduce the rest of the horses.

“Hades is a special horse to me. He is the reason I am here, and not in the prison system. He’s a good horse, but misunderstood.”

“Kind of like you huh?” A tall, muscular, short blond haired man spoke up.

“I guess.”

Hades suddenly rears up in fear, but also as a warning. He knew these people weren’t really here to buy horses. They were looking for me. I shoved them all away with my powers and hopped on Hades. Two of the men recovered quickly and hopped on two of the other horses and raced after me. One of them seemed to know how to work a lasso, and roped me off. 

I fell to the ground face first. The other hogtied me to keep me there. “I haven’t done anything wrong! I’ve lived a quiet life!”

“You have powers that you don’t understand kid.” The blond guy spoke.

“Maybe we could use them rather than send them back?” The man wearing sunglasses questioned.

“Tony, the mission was to find the kid and bring them back, not recruit them.”

“I got that Cap, but they seem to be doing good in the world. Maybe we could use them.”

“I could be of help. I can read minds and even corrupt. I also can heal if that’s a selling point, but whatever you decide I want to bring Hades with, but I don't want to back to prison.” I spoke up, trying to convince them to recruit me rather than send me back to prison.

Tony looked at this Cap guy. Then Cap spoke up, “fine, but you gotta prove this criminal past is behind you.”

“I’ve been here for four years enjoying the peace and quiet. Isn’t that proof enough?”

“They have a point.” Tony stated.

“Fine. I’m Steve, and that’s Tony by the way. The curly haired man over there is Bruce. The man with the long blond hair is Thor, yes the god. The woman is Natasha but we all call her Nat, and the man standing next to her is Clint.”

“Nice to meet you all I guess. Do you mind untying me please?” I ask very politely.

“Oh sorry kid. We just wanted to be sure you weren’t going to run away.” Tony spoke up, sounding truly sorry.

“It’s fine. I get it. So, was that a yes on me keeping the horse?”

“I don’t mind. Cap?”

“If you really want to, I don’t mind. We have plenty of space for it back in New York. Plenty of land at least.”

“Thank you, and I won���t disappoint.”

“Alright then, kid. Welcome to the Avengers!” Tony smiled, untying, then walking me over to the others.

I hoped my life would be different, and much better than it started out. I had a second chance to make things right, and I finally felt like I could belong somewhere. A place where I didn’t feel out of place. Somewhere with others just like me.

[darth-el]

Shout With The Devil

Pairings: Steve x Buckley!Reader Warnings: Smoking, underage drinking, mentions of groupie like behaviour but only if you squint.  A/N: I am back, kind of. Life has been really crazy these past few months and it’s been majorly up and down, but I have found new inspirations (in the guise of 1980′s and dead rock stars...oops) so I figured I could use that my advantage when writing. It’s also worth mentioning here that the reader’s age is 20 so they’re not that much older than Steve. The interview I’m referencing, if anyone is interested, can also be found here.

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You were dancing trying to keep warm on the doorstep of your cousin Robin's house with your suitcases by your side as the blistering cold whipped against your face. It was a rare occurrence for you to even step foot in Hawkins as you left it behind a long time ago but after hearing the news of what happened to the mall and everything else that made its way into the news regarding Hawkins, you finally plucked up to the courage to come back and used Christmas as the excuse to do so. “Come on Robin.” You whined to yourself as you rang the doorbell again before retreating into your coat to keep warm, after what felt like an eternity Robin opened the door with a shocked look on her face due to the fact she wasn't expecting you to be on her doorstep.

“What are you doing here Y/N?!” She screeched excitedly jumping on you to give you a tight hug and pulling you inside sans bags.

“I thought it was time I'd visit my baby cousin.” You shrugged smiling as she started babbling over how long it had been since she last saw you while bombarding you with questions about LA that you couldn't answer because she wouldn't stop talking.  

“Oh suitcases!” She said excitedly pushing you into the living room and running out to grab your bags. The living room was exactly how you remembered it, there were photos of Robin above the fireplace throughout her children as well as doilies and ornaments everywhere, it was a far cry from your roach infested apartment. It took you a minute before you noticed several sets of eyes on you and they all looked like you had crashed through the ceiling in a UFO, you leaned against the door frame unsure what to do with yourself as you became more uncomfortable; the longer the silence lasted the more you were convinced you had grown several heads. Robin came bouncing into the living room and pushed you onto the couch next the oldest guy that you vaguely recognised, possibly from school. “This is my cousin Y/N!” Robin introduced you with a big smile on her face. “This is Steve, Dustin, Lucas and Max.” They all awkwardly smiled and waved as Robin introduced them to you.

“Robin's never mentioned you.” Steve said awkwardly trying to make conversation.

“I don't know why she would,” You said matter of factly and she shot a look at you like she was offended by that statement. “I did essentially run away from Hawkins when I was fifteen Robin, we haven't seen each other in five years.” She looked at you almost like she was pouting before eventually agreeing that you had a point.

“Seriously?” Dustin asked eagerly sitting up with a huge grin on his face as he never met anyone who had run away from home and didn't get grounded for it.

“Where did you run away to?” Steve asked and instantly you could see he was trying to play it cool with you, something Robin also noticed.

“First New York,” You said biting your lip. “Then settled in Los Angeles as I needed warmth.” You laughed looking at the sets of eyes on you.

“How did you afford it?” Lucas said sounding skeptical as he tried to figure out how he could do it if he were to leave that day.

“A lot of hitchhiking.” You smiled at Lucas who was looking at you with furrowed brows not fully believing your story.

“Steve?” Robin said looking at him looking at you as you answered the children's, mainly Dustin's and Lucas', questions.

“Mm?” He hummed pulling his attention away from you to glare at Robin.

“Can you help me with Y/N's suitcases?” She asked slowly and instantly Steve knew she was up to something.

“Can't Dustin?” He asked wanting to avoid whatever she had planned which got a protest from Dustin.

“Well I want you to help.” Robin said in a sharp tone.

“Ha!” Dustin said loudly as Steve groaned pushing himself off the couch to help Robin as you continued to answer the barrage of questions.

Steve and Robin took longer than they should have with the bags and it was made clear why when you heard them coming down the stairs arguing quietly over something; the second Steve sat down next to you Robin had pulled you up off the couch and into the kitchen as she sorted out snacks for everyone. “Steve likes you.” Robin said as she rummaged through the cupboards for food.

“I know.” You said nonchalantly and sitting down at the table while fiddling with your lighter that you pulled out of your pocket.

“You should go for it,” She encouraged you as she dumped a whatever she could grab out of the cupboards onto the table. “If you've got to smoke, do it outside.” She warned like you were a child who was misbehaving.

“Rob,” You looked at her with shock on your face. “He's not my type and he's too young for me.” You sighed pulling a cigarette out of a silver case and placing it between your lips.

“I forgot your type was douchebag rockstars.” She said sarcastically as you got up so you could smoke your cigarette, or what was now going to be cigarettes in peace.

You were half way through smoking your second cigarette when the back door opened and Steve made an appearance, who made it very obvious that he had misjudged the temperature as he started shivering. You pulled out an engraved hip flask from your pocket and handed it to him making him look at you puzzled. “Trust me it'll help.” Your tone was very blasé as he took it from you and swigged the contents, immediately choking as what turned out to be whiskey burned the back of his throat.

“Are you trying to kill me?” He laughed handing the flask back and pulling his own cigarette from his pocket.

“Tell me you're not warm.” You smirked at him while having a swig yourself before shoving it back into your pocket.

“You have a point,” He chuckled lighting up his cigarette and staring out at the Buckley's backyard, the winter sun making it seem more inviting than it actually was. “What made you run off to New York?” Steve asked leaning over the porch, you subconsciously mirroring him.

“I wanted to marry Johnny Thunders.” You laughed admiring his features as he smoked his cigarette.

“Did you?” He asked jokingly raising an eyebrow at you.

“No comment.” You smirked at him, taking a drag on your own cigarette and as you exhaled you created O's with the smoke.

“Okay then,” Steve smiled with a knowing look on his face. “Why LA?” He continued his interrogation.

“I just needed something new and heard about a few bands in LA so I decided to make my way there and check them out,” You sighed picking at the skin around your nails. “It was either there or the UK, so naturally I chose LA.” You laughed looking at Steve who was looking like he was hanging on your every word.

“What bands?” Steve asked trying to figure out if he should feel threatened or not by you.

“Mainly Motley Crue.” With this Steve let out a huge laugh as the stories he heard on MTV were very far removed from anything that Hawkins had experienced.

“I can see you going for the devil worshippers.” He teased looking you up and down in your leather clad outfit.

“What makes you say that?” You nudged him lightly having another drag on your cigarette, realising it was probably going to be your last one.

“You look like you'd like the devil shouting song.” You burst out laughing at Steve's description of the song as you flicked your cigarette away and lit up another one.

“Shout At The Devil.” You tried to stop yourself from laughing but every time you did it just made you laugh even more.

“That's the one.” Steve said proudly clapping his hands together with a big smile on his face.

“They're shouting at the devil,” You teased gasping for air as you were still laughing. “Not with the devil and the cover has a pentagram which is used for protection against him.” You smiled up at him as he flicked his own cigarette away and lit up another without thinking.

“Did you end up marrying any of them?” He winked at you as you shook your head at him rolling your eyes so hard that you were sure you saw your brain. “I'll take that as no comment.” He said leaning into you slightly.

“Why are you so interested in what bands I 'married'?” You asked pulling out your whiskey and taking a swig of it to keep yourself warm before offering some to Steve who declined as he was taken aback by your forwardness.

“Do you want the truth or the lie?” Steve asked raising an eyebrow trying desperately to play it cool again, but you both knew that ship had sailed a long time ago.

“Lie.” You shrugged flicking the ash off your cigarette and watching it float down to the ground.

“It's definitely not because I want to ask you out or anything.” Steve said trying not to fall over his words and embarrass himself as that was becoming the trend with him as of late.

“Do you want the truth or the lie?” You said matching his tone from when he asked you the same question.

“Lie.” He said confidently and suddenly having a panic that this was how you were going to reject him. You could see he was becoming flustered as you left him hanging while you took a drag of your cigarette, making you feel somewhat cruel but at the same time you enjoyed the power you had in that moment.

“If you were to ask me,” You said slowly taking another drag on your cigarette and letting the smoke escape through your nose as you exhaled. “I definitely wouldn't say yes.” You whispered flicking your cigarette away and sauntered over to the backdoor. Steve just looked at you bewildered that he actually somehow managed to get a date and it was with you who seemed so effortlessly cool unlike him.

“Uhh.” He said trying to figure out what to say next as he watched you open the backdoor and you laughed as you could see his brain going into overdrive.

“Pick me up Friday at eight and remind me what this town has to offer.”  You winked at him as you leaned on the open door before going back inside, leaving Steve in the cold who was still trying to figure out what had happened and how he managed to pull that off. Eventually he decided not to question it and thanked the gods as he decided they were obviously being kind to him that day and joined you all in the living room as Robin put on Indiana Jones.

[frauleinfunf]

My dumb headcanons about Mrs. Levin and her side of the family

Bc I cannot stop myself and love thinking way too much about Kevin's family tree bc that's how I express my love for characters

-Deborah Rifka Rozowski was born in 1969 at Kings County Hospital

-She has an older sister named Nancy, whom she's thick as thieves with

-Their father was a very physically abusive parent and their mother had untreated postpartum depression that led to her attempting suicide several times during their childhoods

-Their father had threatened to put her in an institution more than once in front of them

-In addition to a rough home life, she grew up in Brooklyn during the Son of Sam killings, the 1977 blackout, and later the crack epidemic. So it's safe to say she survived by being tough and street smart.

-Deb also had a deep of love of books and writing. It started as a form of escapism, but also became an outlet for her to express her feelings in ways that weren't picking fights

-At 16, Deb's father kicked her out. Nancy immediately put her up at her apartment with her husband Ira, but Deb ended up leaving in the middle of the night. Nancy was already heavily pregnant and Deb didn't want to feel like a burden, but also just wanted to leave Brooklyn and New York and get as far away from her current life as much as possible. Of course being a teenager, she assumed this meant she had to cut ties with her mother and sister.

-Deb wandered for the next few years, hitchhiking her way across the country and making money through odd jobs, mostly pick pocketing and mugging people though.

-At 19, she was in a city just outside of LA called Bellwood, where she ended up trying to mug Devin Levin

-Devin Levin was a hard simper and ended up asking her out after disarming her.

-Devin helped her find a job and an apartment, and soon they start a relationship, marking the first time Deb had ever felt like her life was stable and happy.

-Devin eventually convinced Deb to reach out to her sister, who still had her old phone number (Deb was not expecting that when she agreed to give her a call). After yelling at her for having Nancy worried sick for years, she broke down crying so happy to know Deb was alive and well.

-Nancy did have to be the one to tell Deb that their mother died from suicide a year after she left.

-Deb, while still obviously upset, had kind of assumed that happened in the intervening years.

-Nancy stopped speaking to their father after their mom died, and Deb sure wasn't eager to start talking to him again. So at this point their family was just them and Nancy's husband and kids.

-Deb became a mom at 23 and married Devin at a courthouse while she was pregnant. Their honeymoon was a weekend getaway to Santa Barbara.

-Nancy flew out to California with her husband and now three kids in tow to stand witness for the wedding, and she flew back alone a few months later to meet her nephew and help Deb settle into being a new mom.

-Kevin was 2 when Devin died and Deb just kind of spiraled from there, starting to drink while she sat shiva for him.

-Deb moved back to New York to be closer to her sister again. Nancy and her family were living Yonkers at that point so that's were Deb found a place for her and Kevin.

-In addition to her grief and addiction, Deb's life was not made easier by the fact that she found herself having to work two jobs to keep a roof over their heads and having to leave Kevin with Nancy for most of the day.

-She showed up to her waitress job drunk and her boss scrambled to find someone to take take her home. A trucker named Harvey Hackett who was at the diner for a union meeting volunteered.

-Harvey came by the next day to check on her, and that's how their relationship started.

-Harvey signed her up for AA meetings and, once Deb was sober enough, started teaching her how to drive a truck.

-Deb may not have loved Harvey in the way she loved Devin, she never could've loved anyone like that again. But he was a good man who wanted to take care of her and Kevin, and at that point that was all she wanted.

-They got married when Kevin was 4 and as we know that ended up being the worst decision of Deb's life.

-Meanwhile, things in Kevin's life weren't all that great, even before Harvey started to fear him.

-Nancy's kids (Amanda, who was 7 years older than Kevin, Mikey who was 5 years older, and Josh who was 2 years older) did not adjust well to an aunt they only met once and her kid all of a sudden coming back into their lives, and in addition to that their mom was now practically raising their cousin alongside them.

-It certainly didn't help that Nancy almost immediately started including Kevin whenever she called her kids her munchkins, and even called him Kevala the way she called them Amala, Mikala, and Joshala.

-So already they were inclined to ostracize Kevin, and that only got worse once his powers started developing and regularly short circuiting their electronics.

-Things came to a head when Kevin one day followed them to their treehouse and Amanda pretended she was going to push him out, scaring him enough that he unintentionally shocked her and left a third degree burn.

-Nancy and Deb, after a long talk with a lot yelling and crying and cheesecake, decided it would be safest for Kevin if Deb found other babysitters, which she could now afford with her and Harvey being unionized truckers.

-Nancy was absolutely heartbroken about this and cried on her last day watching him. Amanda, still mad about her burn, convinced Kevin that Nancy was crying because she thought Kevin was a freak just as much as the kids did.

-Until he ran away, Kevin ended up having a long, long list of babysitters who were all scared off by his powers at one point or another.

-Eventually Harvey and Deb started working their schedules so that at least one would be home all the time, meaning they started to see each other much less.

-While Deb and Nancy understood that Kevin's power outbursts were something he couldn't control and completely tied to his emotional state, Harvey did not.

-It didn't help that Harvey and Deb had very different parenting styles in general, with Harvey believing Deb was too permissive and Deb believing Harvey's approach was "totalitarian dogshit"

-So whenever Deb was home Kevin, while still struggling, was a lot more happy and behaved than when Harvey was the one who was home.

-A lot of Kevin's acting out was him being a kid who's stepfather feared him and him obviously not having the tools to deal with that since he was like 7.

-The rare time Deb and Harvey had together was often spent fighting about parenting, and Kevin just came to hate Harvey's presence in general, especially with Amanda's words still in the back of his head after all these years.

-On that fateful day when Kevin accidentally destroyed the house, Harvey just completely lost it.

-He said Kevin's mother suffered so much because of him, because of the pressure of having a freak son.

-This, combined with his experience with Amanda, is what convinced Kevin that his mother was going to reject him.

-After Kevin ran away, Deb and Nancy's family searched everywhere for him. Now faced with the prospect of never seeing him again, the now teenaged Amanda, Mikey, and Josh were certainly feeling a lot of guilt for how they treated him as kids and how much they tried to ignore what they did as they got older.

-Harvey and Deb's divorce was very messy, to put it mildely

-Harvey, a smart man, moved to the other side of the country just to avoid Nancy and Ira, whom he now feared even more than Deb. With Deb, he had hurt her baby. With Nancy, he had hurt her baby AND her baby sister.

-Once Kevin reunited with Deb, he reunited with Nancy. He still has no contact with his cousins though.

-Why Harvey was chosen to be the one to talk Ultimate Kevin down instead of Deb or Nancy is a mystery only God knows.

[imjustthemechanic]

The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils Part 9/? - Baggage Part 10/? - Private Funding Part 11/? - Just Passing Through Part 12/? - Party of Four

A stowaway!

-

In the morning they rose bright and early. There’d been a bit more rain overnight, but it had stopped and the sky had cleared, and everything was fresh and sparkling with dew.  They packed up, and then Jason proudly showed Peggy the equipment he’d been working on.

“I got the gyros and dampeners worked out, I think,” he said, “so unless we’ve got major turbulence it ought to stay pretty level underneath the aircraft.  The readout will be here.”

In the middle of the plane was a device that resembled a polygraph, though without the parts to connect it to the person under interrogation.  Instead, the wires passed through a hole in the floor to the sonar mounted beneath the belly of the aircraft.  Three pens were ready to trace out lines on the roll of paper.

“The blue one will be the top of the ice,” said Jason, “the green will be the bottom, and the black will be the seafloor underneath. Ice, water, and stone all affect the frequency of sounds in different ways, so the timing tells us which is which.”

“What if we encounter something else?” asked Peggy.

“Like metal, or wood?” Jason asked with a smile. “That’ll confuse it.  We won’t be able to immediately identify what we’ve found, but we’ll know we’ve found something.”

So they wouldn’t know if it were a crashed plane or a secret Russian base, thought Peggy… but they could do a wide circle and check it out from above.  If it were worrying, they could return to civilization and alert Daniel.  Peggy knew there was no such thing as a foolproof plan – fools were far too inventive for that – but this one was solid as long as they took no unnecessary risks.

“Well done,” she said.  “This should be just what we need.”

“He was wasted at Isodyne,” said Howard.  He sat down in the pilot’s seat, leaving the door between cockpit and cargo area open, and zipped up his flying jacket.  “Shall we get this show on the road?”

“I’m dying to know what the big secret is,” Jason admitted.

“You may be disappointed,” Peggy warned him.

She and Jason made one last check that their equipment and supplies were secure, and then took their places on the troop benches and did up their safety harnesses.  The propellers whirled to life, and the Skytrain took off into a beautiful blue sky.

“All right,” said Peggy once they were at altitude. “I now have things to explain to both of you… and neither of you are likely to be pleased.  I’m sorry, Jason, but we’re not looking for the Franklin Expedition, although I suppose we may find it by accident.”

Jason nodded, a little disappointed but not particularly surprised.  “You’re looking for the wreck of the Valkyrie,” he said.

“That’s right.  Unfortunately, we’re quite unlikely to find it.  Our source was not a particularly reliable one.”  Peggy paused to arrange the story in her head, but before she could speak, something under Jason’s seat went clunk.

The interior of the plane was open down the middle, so that it could transport vehicles and equipment as well as troops.  The men were meant to sit where Peggy and Jason were now, on benches at the sides.  Below the benches were lockers, and it was from one of these that the sound had just come. Jason undid his harness and moved to the side as one of the doors banged open, and a human being wiggled out.

“No,” said Peggy out loud, as a head of blonde hair appeared.  “Oh, no, no, no.”  This was not allowed to happen!

But it was.  Miss Lake got up and brushed herself off.  She was wearing a knee-length wool wrap coat in black, and as she sat down on the bench next to Jason, she pulled out a matching felt hat from one of the pockets, unfolded it, and put it on her head.

“Hi,” she said to Jason.

“What’s going on back there?” Howard demanded from up front.  He could not see them from the cockpit, although he could hear a little of the conversation.

“Turn around, Howard!”  Peggy stood up and went to the cockpit door.  “Find a place to land, now.”

“I’ve got a bomb,” said Lake.

Peggy turned and looked at her.  “Excuse me?”

“I put a bomb on this plane,” Lake repeated.  “I have the detonator.  If you land somewhere I don’t approve of, or otherwise try to get rid of me, I’ll set it off.”

It was all Peggy could do not to gape at her like a fish. “You’re bluffing,” she said.

“Bet your life?” asked Lake.  She glanced at Jason.  “Bet his life?”

“Who is that?” Howard wanted to know.  He craned his head over his shoulder to try to see through the doorway.

“That is our source,” said Peggy tiredly.  “What do you want, Miss Lake?”

“I want to help you find Captain America,” Lake told her, as if this were the most reasonable thing in the world.  “When Ned got back from lunch, he told me that you’d said he should apologize to me and promise to be less creepy to women in bars. I knew if you were back in town there had to be a reason, so I hitchhiked out here and found you guys working on the plane.  After you went to bed I stowed away, and here I am.���

“How did you know we’d be at Howard’s airfield?” asked Peggy.  “How… how did you even know he had an airfield up here?”

“I guessed,” said Lake.

“You guessed he had an airfield?”

“No, that I already knew.”

“How did you escape from the SSR?” Peggy asked.  She felt like her head was spinning.  She was going to kill Agent Russel, she thought… he hadn’t revealed a single secret and yet he’d still told Lake everything she needed to know.  “Don’t tell me Thompson put you in a hotel or something instead of back in your cell…”

“No, no.  Thompson is smarter than you think he is, but not nearly as smart as he thinks he is,” Lake assured her.  “I tried to seduce him just to see if he’d go for it.  He didn’t, but he also didn’t pay enough attention to realize I was doing it to distract him from me putting Barbital in his chicken soup.”

“What is going on?” Howard demanded from the cockpit.  “Am I landing or not?”

“No landing!” said Lake cheerfully.

“We’re gonna have to land eventually,” Howard protested. “It’s already in the flight plan! We have to land up by Fort Severn to refuel!”

“Then you’re allowed to do that, but not to kick me off,” said Lake.  She got up and went to the cockpit door herself , to take a look at their pilot. “So you’re Howard Stark, are you?”

This was the first time Howard had been able to see their guest.  When he realized she was an attractive blonde, he sat up a little straighter and gave her a charming smile, much to Peggy’s disgust.  “My reputation precedes me?” he asked.

“Oh, yes,” said Lake.  “Marie said you fell asleep right after and left her high and dry.  Ksenia said you have the ugliest, wrinkliest testicles she has ever seen on a man, and Olga… not Barynova, the other Olga… said that in the middle of things you kept calling her ‘Steve’.”

Peggy raised an eyebrow.

“That is not true,” said Howard, and added, to Peggy, “I don’t remember any of those women.”

“I didn’t expect you to,” Peggy said.  “Howard, Jason, this is Miss Katherine Lake, which is the only name she’ll tell us.”

“Now, that is not true,” Lake said.  “When I first met you I told you my name was Nadine Russel.”

“Yes, but you stole that one from somebody else,” said Peggy.  “Miss Lake is another Soviet agent, like Dottie Underwood but far, far worse. Dottie is merely a madwoman, but Miss Lake has a plan.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Lake said, and went to sit down again.

Peggy remained standing by the door so that Howard would hear what she had to say.  “At any rate, I’m afraid Miss Lake is correct – she was our source.  She dropped the coordinates off in a letter she slipped into my purse while she was impersonating an FBI agent.  Daniel and I discussed it and decided we had to at least take a look, if only to make sure the Soviets have not found the crash site before we did.  Miss Lake is supposed to be in New York, helping Chief Thompson find Dottie Underwood.”

“He’ll be fine,” Lake assured her.  “He’ll have her the moment she tries to sell Vivien Leigh’s diamond bracelet.”

“The one I gave her?” Howard asked.

“Dottie wouldn’t steal that,” said Peggy. “She’s got one of her own already.”

With all the bad news delivered, Peggy sat heavily back down in her seat and folded her arms across her chest.  In the space of moments, her solid plan had turned into a circus.  She was now quite certain they would find something up on Cornwallis Island, but it wasn’t going to be the Valkyrie… and whatever it was, Peggy wasn’t going to like it very much.

- 

They landed in Fort Severn as planned.  The weather there was dreadful, with a silvery overcast sky that hurt to look at, and tiny sharp crystals of snow swirling down to bite into any exposed skin.  Jason stayed on board to check the equipment one more time, while Howard gritted his teeth, tied his scarf tight, and headed out into the cold to arrange for their refueling.  Miss Lake seemed happy enough just to sit in the plane and wait, so Peggy announced a desire to stretch her legs and headed out for a walk.

The wind was bitter, which gave her a perfect excuse to confine her walk to no more than a dozen feet from the Skytrain.  She circled the plane twice, examining the engines, the landing gear, and even Jason’s sonar – anywhere somebody could have inserted something that did not belong.  She found nothing.  Peggy didn’t know as much about planes as Howard did but she knew plenty about bombs, and she was confident that if it were in one of those places, she would have spotted it.

“That was a short walk,” Miss Lake said, when Peggy came back inside.

“It’s colder out there than I thought,” Peggy replied.

She stepped over Jason’s tools and headed up into the cockpit, where she took another look around.  Under the seats?  Behind them? In the floor, where there was a hatch to access the landing gear?  Behind the instrument panels?

“Find anything?” asked Lake.

Peggy was sitting on the floor examining the underside of the dashboard.  She looked up to find Lake in the doorway, looking casually interested.  As if this were anything but a life-or-death situation that she had herself put them in.

“What do you want?” Peggy demanded crossly, only to change her mind a moment later and shake her head.  “Actually, forget I asked… I know you won’t give me an answer.”

“I want you to trust me,” Lake replied.

Peggy took a moment to consider that.  “You want me to trust you, so that’s why you lied to me, sprayed me in the face with a kitchen spice, and are now threatening to blow up an airplane while I’m on board?”

“We were raised to be spies and assassins.”  Lake shrugged.  “They never taught us how to make friends.”

“I’m not laughing,” said Peggy.

“I’m not joking.”  Lake offered Peggy a hand to help her up.  “When we find Steve, I’m going to need you to trust me.”

Peggy had been reaching for the hand, but hearing that, she grabbed the arm of the pilot’s seat instead.  “You may use my name, Kay,” she said as she got to her feet.  “You may not use his.”

When Howard got back on board, the first thing he said was, “did you find it?”

Peggy shook her head.  Jason did likewise.

“What do you want to do?” Howard asked.

“I think the only thing Miss Lake will allow us to do is go on,” Peggy said.

“Kind of a long walk home, otherwise,” said Lake with a nod.

“May Jason leave?” Peggy asked.  “It would be an expression of your good intentions, to let one of your hostages go.”  Jason had been traumatized enough by his previous involvement in SSR affairs.  He didn’t deserve to get mixed up in such a mess a second time.

But it was Jason himself who refused.  “I have to stay to mind the sonar,” he said. “Howard can’t do that while he’s flying the plane, and you ladies don’t know how to fix it if it breaks.”

“All right,” said Peggy.  “Then we go on.”  She wondered what she was going to tell Thompson when they brought Miss Lake back to New York, or whether they’d even have the opportunity to.

[gavemesomuchtoremember]

Heartbroken

Thanks for saying this @raimi​ I really appreciate it, and @fandomsandxfiles-writes​ for also encouraging me to post a while back too. 

Hey Everyone, so I finally have built up the courage to share the first Agent Carter fic I wrote. I wrote it back in May. 

Dottie Underwood x Reader

Jack Thompson x Reader

It’s a Jack Thompson x Reader situation though y/n’s conversation is mainly with Dottie about it. 

Summary: During a mission a drunk y/n has to distract Dottie, leading to sharing some secrets that she didn’t want to.

Another, Sameul y/n called out to the bartender, you knew it wasn’t very ladylike to be this drunk but you didn’t care; and you finally had a day off. You felt a tapping on your shoulder as you turned to see a worried Peggy Carter, a look you hadn’t often seen on the agent. “Peggy, what brings you here?” You questioned.

“I heard from Rose that you’ve been here all day” you watched her as she observed you. She noticed you had been slightly falling off the edge of the chair. “So I thought I’d come talk to you”.

“I’m fine Peg!” you exclaimed loudly, causing a table of men to turn and look in disappointment. Samuel placed the beer down in front of you, “Aah, my dear Sam, what took ya so long” you said taking a giant gulp of the drink.

“If I had put my money on it, I’d say this reaction is due to Jack”. You smirked hoping it would hide the fact she’d guessed correctly,”What makes you say that?”

“It’s the way he looks at you. I’ve also seen you avoid him”

“It’s a long story, are you going to the warehouse?” not wanting to continue the conversation as you sipped on your drink. “Yeah, we are. We need to catch Dottie.”

“She really is a pain in our backs, though I respect the diligence it takes to work that hard and love your job”.

“I really wish you weren’t drunk right now” She said quietly to herself but you heard the concern in her voice. “You need me don’t you. What’s going on, what do I need to do?”

“No, you stay, it’s your day off” “But, what’s the plan?” “We’re going to set up an electromagnetic field around the building to block her from leaving the premises. Four downstairs, four upstairs”. You stared at her for a second to process the information, “Won’t she see that?”

“I will be distracting Dottie while Rose, Dr Samberly, Mr Jarvis, Jack and Daniel set up everything” “Then what?”

“Dr Samberly will set it off”

You placed the glass down on the counter and fully gave her your attention, “don’t you or Sous need to be with him to help with that kind of power? I trust the guy but Aloysius crumbles under pressure”

“We don’t have a choice, they need to go set it up” “Exactly, so I’ll come. You need the help” “y/n, no you’re too drunk” “And you’re too outnumbered for a large space and a time limit, I can distract Dottie, everyone else can set up. You’ll have an extra hand downstairs and someone can be with Aloysius”.

“I said no, you’re drunk”. She gave you a look but gave in. Right outside the warehouse Peggy and you got to the meeting spot.

“You’re drunk!” Daniel called out to you when the two of you approached him. “I’m fine, let’s just focus on the task at hand” you said and waltz up to Jarvis and Rose to grab an earpiece.

Sousa turned his attention to Peggy, “you brought her here even though she’s drunk?”

“She insisted on coming along. Besides, I couldn’t stop her. She’s one of the few people we need right now. She can handle herself drunk, I’ve seen it”

You entered into the warehouse, making a mental note of the area, Jarvis split left and Peggy, with Rose went right on the bottom level. You continued to walk forward into the warehouse as Aloysius, Jack, and Sous went up the stairs to the second level.

Rose and Peggy reached their targets and started setting up the electromagnetic field they needed to cover the building. Jarvis reached his corner and had done the same. Jack and Daniel split up to cover all of the bases upstairs. Finally Aloysius had positioned himself above a steel box with an electromagnetic cannon ray thing Peggy was explaining on the way over. “I might have been a little too drunk to pay attention to the briefing” You thought to yourself.

You entered a smaller room located comically in the centre of the building. Your job was the most important, inside the box, the walls were a mint green and there was a little picnic bench type seating area. Dottie was sitting there with a book.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Brooklyn” “Dottie, always a pleasure”

You heard Peggy’s voice come in through your earpiece, “keep her distracted, were almost set up”. You made your way closer to the black widow, “What brings you here?”

“Wow agent, wasted on the job? That’s a new low, even for you. Boy troubles?” You ignored her comments, your eyes trailing her as she walked around the bench.

“You know what Dottie, I’ll do the talking here” “How about let’s play a game of truth?”

You paused a second and even thought about it. You really only had to distract Dottie, if she was doing all the work for you, why not. “Sure Dottie, what do you wanna know, my life is an open book”

“Have you ever been in love?” Dottie’s smile got bigger when she asked, it was a red flag but you were a little too numb to care, “I suppose I have”.

“When did you meet him?” She patted the bench as she sat back down, but you didn’t move a muscle, “We were six, We met outside a chapel, he popped my soccer ball and I hitchhiked in his daddy’s truck from Michigan all the way to New York”. 

“You run away from home”

“I’m an orphan, thought I could start a better life in New York”

“Did he break your heart?”

That’s when it clicked, she knew exactly what she was talking about, she wanted specific answers out of you. “Hold your horses there missy. You’ve asked a bunch of questions, my turn”

Jarvis’ voice came though on the earpiece, “I’m all set down here”, and Sousa’s voice followed, “copy that, Jarvis, can you go see if the south tower is set, while Peggy and Rose finish up the others”, “Of course chief”. You focused on the task at hand, “What was it really like growing up in Russia?”

“Oh y/n, it was wonderful, as I’ve told Peggy I was jealous of women like her who could do whatever they pleased, but living here for as long as I have, there’s no respect for women. In Russia it was such a wonderful learning experience”.  

“Being tied to a bed is your idea of wonderful?” “It was by choice”

In that moment you almost pitied her, she’d never known a life outside of that prison camp. “But here, even though some men don’t like it, we do have freedom”

“Women in your country are oppressed!”

“Not for long, I envision an America where women are in all positions of power”

“So tell me y/n, how did you end up in this line of work? You see I was born for this? In jail I heard a little rumour that a broken heart pushed you here”

And there it was, Dottie liked to pray on weakness, maybe it was because of her cold heart, but it was clear that the truth game was some sort of sick power move, “I don’t have to answer that”

“But you will, because you and I both know that this is an attempt to distract me. You won’t stop making mindless conversation with me until my dear friend Peggy tells you to”

You finally moved towards the bench, “well, if we both know this is a charade then I guess we don’t need to keep that up”

“I don’t do well when I’m bored. You can’t fight me because the SSR needs me alive and unless you tell me your story, I will walk out of here, ruining whatever it is that poor Peggy is up to”

You thought to yourself for a second, when Peggy’s voice rang in your ears followed by Daniel’s, “were almost done” “Us too y/n just hold off a little longer.

“I’m bored” Dottie said in a sing songy voice, “You seriously think I’m that drunk? That I’ll just spill all my secrets?”

She smirked, as she walked towards you, closing the gap

“You’ll never get away, not this time Dot” “y/n/n” “My name is y/n” “right, only Jack Thompson can call you y/n/n”

“That’s enough Dottie” You put your arm out to stop her from moving past you, but she just swatted it away and smiled again. You thought to yourself how could her smile possibly get any bigger. “Alright, you won’t tell me your story then I guess I’m leaving. Bye.”

You watched as she started to leave. There was no way you were going to tell her the story but she was leaving. Jack’s face appeared as you closed your eyes. You moved your hair behind your ear, revealing the earring mic. You couldn’t think straight, and she was right, you needed to wait for Peg’s order, so you couldn’t just let her leave.

“I set dinner for him”

Dottie stopped, immediately pulling a 180. Peggy and Rose shared a look, knowing this was not going to end well and Jack stopped dead in his tracks mentally kicking himself.

“I was young, in love, and, well stupid... I wanted to marry him” You started slowly, knowing they were almost done. “Rose and I are set, moving onto the next one” Peggy stated, “Same” Jarvis’ voice followed, finally Sousa spoke, “Jack, Samberly and I are working on it”

Dottie gave you a look and tapped her foot getting impatient, “He was drafted and I’d never been more proud of him. So I made this dinner, so we could celebrate. It was something he wanted to do. Fight for our freedom” Dottie smiled and sat down at the bench, once again trying to get you to sit with her. This time you did, “Go on” she cooed. “Keep stalling” Daniel’s voice rang in your ear. “His car was supposed to leave in 3 days, but he decided to get on the one that was leaving that night. I often think about why he stood outside my door, refusing to come in. All he had to say for himself was that he was leaving. I thought he was joking. But he was serious. And he left.”

“Then?”

You paused and stared at her. There was radio silence on the other end. You knew they were still working. You really didn’t want to talk about this.

“y/n, I’m waiting”

“Let’s talk about something else, maybe, say the great depression?” You tried to change the subject, “not a chance in hell. I won’t ask again”. You knew that wouldn’t work. Finally Peggy’s voice came through again, “We need more time”. You took in a breath to calm your nerves, sobering up having to talk about this while everyone could hear you, “I ran out after him, I begged him to at least talk to me, tell me why”

Rose and Peggy exchange a glance of utter shock as they’d never heard this story, not even on a girls night. Jarvis ran up to them to help finish the last magnetic tower.

“You know what I got as a response? His back walking down the street”

Daniel and Aloysius gave Jack a look, not surprised but disappointed.

You looked at Dottie, knowing that you’d have to continue, “On top of that, I was labeled as the broken one. The one who was left by-“

“People threw garbage at me, treated me like some sort of witch. One day I went for a walk and there were three guys that tried to abduct me. I beat them up and a Colonel saw it, Murdoch saw it, took me in and I ended up in Russia fighting more Russian assassins like yourself. It’s how I ended up in the war, it’s how I met Howard, it’s how I ended up in the SSR.”

Jarvis didn’t want to hear anymore of it so he removed his earpiece, “I can’t listen to this anymore” I heard Daniel say, “were almost done” for what felt like the millionth time.

“So to answer your question Dottie, yes. I did end up here because of a broken heart. It wasn’t the lifestyle I had always imagined, but I’m glad I’m not some blond asshole chief’s wife”

Aloysius had managed to get everything going, “give us 5 seconds” is all I heard.

“You know what Dottie, sometimes I feel like you like being locked up”

“Now”

You pulled out your gun and aimed at her, “Dottie Underwood, you are under arrest” She didn’t seem phased at all, simply replying, “wonderful”.

Dottie kicked the gun out of your hand and tried to escape, Luckily you saw it coming but your reaction times were a little delayed. She managed to free herself and kicked you in the face twice, but you weren’t having that, tackling her to the ground, in doing so activating bars that surrounded you. Inside a jail cell of electromagnets, “Well that was new” she said to herself. 

“Looks like we’re both stuck in this prison”, you placed those handcuffs on her and she laughed in your face, “at least the prison I’m going to, it’ll be easy to escape”

Daniel and Peggy grabbed her by the arms and pulled her away.

Once again Dottie Underwood was caught, but she was right. Jack was y/n’s prison and he broke your heart, but you still loved him.

THE END

[lovelyirony]

Footnotes

it’s been a bit since i added to the bookshop au: time got away from me! 

We’re taking over the world/a little victimless crime -Do It All the Time, IDKHBTFM

Tony notices that Bucky doesn’t come into the store for a month. This is fine. Should be fine. Not like he wonders what Bucky will think of the newest latte, which is geared more to the warmer weather that has been breezing in cheerfully. The iced latte, flavored with caramel and coconut, had been a hit with MJ and Ned, who both loved it. 

But Bucky hadn’t come in and tried it.

His anxiety tells him that he is found out and are currently waiting until Tony leaves the building to set up a trap and probably blow up every single book and also him.

But that would be stupid. There’s no way that the Avengers know who Iron Man or War Machine is. Tony Jarvis is a nice guy who runs a bookstore, has a suspicious amount of money from inheritance, and got a degree in English from a local college. 

He even photo-shopped pictures there with Rhodey and everything. (Thank god for anti-aging technology and Rhodey’s genius.)

But he still kind of wants Bucky to come in and look at books. He even has a few records pulled just for the occasion.

“You are quite honestly the worst kind of person,” Rhodey says. “Who gets a crush on who is supposed to be their arch-nemesis and wants to make a custom coffee menu for them?”

“Not me,” Tony says quickly, pushing away the lemon-blueberry scone idea. “And besides if anyone would be my arch-nemesis, it would clearly be Black Widow. We match each other intellectually.”

“Not a chance,” Rhodey says with a snort. “Or did you forget the time you got so nervous you—”

“Hello?” comes a voice from the front. Rhodey immediately cuts off, going back to filing new shipments. Tony looks over.

“Hey, you’re back!” Tony cheers.

Rhodey makes a motion of gagging. Tony flips him off with one hand behind his back as he comes forward.

“Sorry I haven’t been in. Work has been…enlightening.”

“Usually code for ‘I-don’t-get-paid-enough’” Tony teases. “You wanna try an iced coffee drink?”

“I’m game.”

“Sit down at the table, I’ll get it out for you.”

Bucky has to admit that a good apron can do wonders for an ass. Or maybe Tony just has a really nice one. Either way, the view is spectacular.

“What has work been having you do?” Tony asks, pouring in syrup.

“Oh just…the usual,” Bucky says. He’s horrible at lying. He really, really is. “They keep twisting up what they want, it’s getting confusing.”

“Bookshops, luckily, are much simpler than that,” Tony says, smiling. He slides the drink over to Bucky. “Try it. Tell me what you think.”

Bucky takes a long slurp. Puts his head back.

“Tony, you ever experienced a masterpiece?”

“Once or twice,” Tony says, smiling.

“This is the damn Mona Lisa of drinks.”

Tony grins. Bucky sips a bit more, sighing in contentment.

“Hey, I know that last time I learned that you sold records. What are, um, your favorites?”

“I’m glad you asked…”

Bucky learns about new music. He learns that he needs to google new bands. AC/DC is a clear favorite of Tony’s, who sings along. It’s a funny juxtaposition with his cardigan and old jeans, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

Bucky finds some of the old ones, which Tony doesn’t look surprised at.

“You have an old soul,” Tony says.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Bucky mutters.

“Don’t I?” Tony teases. “You act as if you’ve never had iced coffee before.”

Bucky has to turn back to the player to stop from laughing in front of him. What Tony doesn’t know…well. He’s damned sure he doesn’t know that technically all of Bucky’s favorite records were either unable to be found, most likely questionable, or long disintegrated with time.

Oh, Tony knows. He knows for a damned fact that Bucky has never had iced coffee, most likely does not know who the hell Jimmy Carter was and knows how to disassemble and reassemble most weapons in under sixty seconds.

But it’s cute to mess with him. His brow furrows. Tony has a thing for furrows.

“Hey Tony?” Rhodey asks, head popping up from the upstairs. Bucky automatically looks up, finding the face to be vaguely familiar.

“What is it Rhodey-dear?” Tony calls back out.

“I have a computer glitch, you gotta come see it! Now!”

“This better not be a repeat of the pinball incident,” Tony mutters, turning back to Bucky. “I’ll be back in five minutes, I promise.”

“Take your time, love,” Bucky responds.

Bucky then immediately wonders if he bangs his head against the column near him if Tony and Rhodey will hear it. Tony also called his…person “Rhodey-dear.” Dear! Does he even have a chance?

But this brings him to think about Rhodey. He looked familiar. Bucky’s life doesn’t consist of knowing that you know someone from a certain social event and trying to place them. No, Bucky knows people because of two reasons:

1.)         He tried to kill them.

2.)         SHIELD has something on them.

He’s pretty sure that if he was faced with someone like Rhodey, he wouldn’t be able to kill him. Even from the head poking out, he could see a pretty defined shoulder and a look set to his gaze that read as very competent, entirely capable of taking down an authoritarian government, and also probably likes gourmet cheeses. The last one is a guess. But Bucky likes to guess pretty damn accurately.

Rhodey…

Rhodes. Colonel James Rhodes. Close with Tony Stark, who went missing. They thought he had something to do with something. He moved to New York pretty quickly after that, refusing to go into military service to a “previously unreported mental incapacity.”

Bucky smells bullshit.

Tony Stark. Another mystery in this puzzle. Bucky remembers trying to kill Howard and Maria Stark. It was the wrong person. Winter Soldier never missed his targets. Of course, Tony Stark wasn’t the target.

-

Rhodey is freaking out. Someone at SHIELD figured out there was a tiny bug in the system.

“When did they hire someone competent?!” Tony whisper-yells. “I thought they were two years behind schedule!”

“We made that schedule when we were drunk out of our minds from Moscato,” Rhodey hisses.

“Still! It was Moscato. It wasn’t like we drank vodka until we were shit-faced. That would’ve ended up disastrously and possibly given Dum-E and U a new sibling before Butterfingers.”

“Butterfingers wants a baby, just so you know,” Rhodey says.

“Why are you telling me this now?” Tony asks.

“Because you know what you’re doing and I figured you should know what your daughter is up to. It’s very important in developmental psychology.”

“Do not,” Tony hisses. “Let me fix this…”

With a couple more frantic curses, one eye shut, and a yelp, the problem is (mostly) taken care of.

“You think they can trace it?”

“It’ll trace back to a random e-café,” Tony says. “And there will be Justin Hammer who is currently trying to work out why his dating profile isn’t working. I’ll give you a hint: it’s the bio and the fact that he looks like he’s going to bail on paying for your dinner.”

Rhodey smiles, shaking his head and looking out the door.

“Get back down to Barnes. Don’t let him know what this is.”

“When would I?”

“You tend to be a terrible liar around people you like.”

“Why you—!”

“Thank you for helping with the pinball machine again!” Rhodey says, throwing his voice. He shoves Tony out of the office. Tony’s cheeks are bright red, he’s flushed, and he can barely walk down the stairs.

He’s not sure what exactly happened. He knows someone found out about them, tried to trace the bug back. That simply wouldn’t do because Tony runs a legitimate business. Pays taxes on April fifteenth and everything.

“Sorry about that, emergency with a pinball machine game,” Tony says.

“Understandable,” Bucky says. “What was wrong it? A bug get in?”

“Uh, not exactly,” Tony responds, body going tense for a moment. “You want to pick out a new record?”

“Yeah, sure…”

They find out that Bucky absolutely hates the pop, almost-fake music from the fifties.

“It’s…unsettling,” Bucky says, shuddering. “Gross.”

“Let me get some Benny Goodman then,” Tony says.

“How’d you know?”

“Everyone likes his music,” Tony says. “But then again, you did say you were an old soul.”

Bucky can hear the familiar music fill the air as he hums to himself.

“Hey handsome, wanna help me with something?” Tony asks. “I have some books that need to be shelved. I was wondering if you could help?”

“No problem,” Bucky says, grinning. “Can’t reach the top shelf?”

“Why you—”

“I’m shelving!” Bucky calls, grabbing one of the boxes.

Tony thinks that no one should be attractive when they’re lifting boxes. Especially when they’re holding what is essentially about forty pounds with one arm. His left one, but still.

There is also the matter of making sure that Barnes never finds out who he is. Tony has been quite careful about that, although the “bug” comment got to him. Does he know about them? Is he playing some sort of long game?

Answer: no. Bucky got distracted by a book title that he remembers from years ago.

“I forgot I read this,” he says, smiling. “It was forever ago.”

“Old books get to you like nothing else,” Tony responds. “I grew up with Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. You read that one yet?”

“Add it to the recommended box,” Bucky answers.

He has his own box now. Technically a crate, but Tony’s been putting books there for Bucky when he thinks he’s found one that he’ll like. Which of course, Bucky will like whatever book is in there if Tony chose it. He likes anything Tony chooses. He would wear the worst outfit in existence if Tony chose it.

Shelving goes by with little conversation, although they both hum along to the music being played softly over the intercoms. Tony comes and goes, helping customers with different items, brewing some more coffee, and getting some more boxes.

Bucky likes the routine.

He’s sad to go, taking his books with him and waving a soft goodbye. Tony’s leaning against the doorframe, a fond look on his face as the bookshop light floats out onto dark pavement. He wishes he could be there all the time.

And then, of course, people are in his apartment.

“Bookstore again, huh?” Steve asks. Natasha’s looking through the pile of receipts on the kitchen counter.

“You go there a lot,” she murmurs.

“I like being literate, gives me a headstart on Clint,” Bucky answers glibly.

“Even if someone liked reading this much, they wouldn’t be buying obscene amounts of books and coffee.”

“I don’t buy every book. To—the owner lets me take some home if I return them the next day.”

“You’re on a first name basis?” Natasha asks, eyebrow arched. “Just what bookstore are you going to?”

“One that’s none of your business,” Bucky says.

“It says it on top of the receipt,” Steve says.

Bucky curses.

Steve laughs at him.

[everlarkficexchange]

Everlark Fic Exchange: Masterlist

 Springtime Edition (2020).

The King's Mistress by @eiramrelyat

Prompt 9: Katniss is a commoner and peeta is a cruel king. He wants katniss to be his mistress. How will they fall in love is up to you. [submitted by anonymous] 

Stay with Me Just for Now by @booksrockmyface

Prompt 10: katniss and peeta are best friends who were in a friends w benefits arrangement in the past. now the hunger for each other is coming back. [submitted by anonymous] 

A Quiet Announcement by @albinokittens300​

Prompt 11: in panem au where everlark isn’t reaped and peeta knocks up katniss. [submitted by @sunflowerslyf] 

Prompt #12: by @endlessnightlock

Prompt 12: katniss walks out of the fitting room wearing only a bikini to ask her friend if it suits her but it isnt her friend at the other side of the door but peeta. [submitted by anonymous] 

When You Were Mine by @pitualba2015

Prompt 20: Peeta is the CEO and katniss is his secretary. They have an affair and katniss gets pregnant but when she tells peeta he doesn’t believe her and accuse her of trying to trap him. What will he do when he realize his mistake and how will he win katniss back. [submitted by anonymous] 

Two Households by @everlarkandhistory

Prompt 22: Set in early 20th century. Katniss and Peeta are from two rival families who have been enemies since forever. They have a chance meeting which led to them falling in love. They are completely unaware of their identity. Will their love survive or will their relationship crumble. [submitted by @mysteriouslycraftyreview]

Operation: BREAD (Bring Revenge on Everdeen to Avenge Dad) by @alliswell21

Prompt 23: Rumor: MrEverdeen crossed fence dividing Town and Seam, kidnapped Mrs Everdeen making her his commonlaw wife. Years later, Mellark sons plan to avenge their father by raiding Seam and kidnapping one of Everdeens daughters for one of them to take as a wife! Does Katniss “volunteer,” does she escape, how do the 3 brothers decide what to do with her since they didn’t plan it all out well? [submitted by @567inpanem] 

lying in the bed we made (if it wasn't us) by @archersandsunsets

Prompt 26: the night before the Quarter Quell, in the sleepless dark, Katniss and Peeta allow themselves to indulge in the bittersweet dream of a future they’ll never have together (“if it wasn’t us, what would you do?” “I’d want to marry you” “tell me”) [submitted by @rosegardeninwinter]

The Proper Response by @madetofly

Prompt 29: Post-MJ, Growing Together. Peeta is finally showing his affection and love for Katniss as they heal and reconnect. Katniss, being Katniss, seems to act like she doesn’t appreciate this, and is less than enthused. Peeta, taking this like an adult, stops showing her with the affection and tries to show her his love in other ways. Katniss, however, does not appreciate him stopping those things and set out to try and get him to continue it again because she misses it. [submitted by @albinokittens300] 

All the World's a Stage by @katnissdoesnotfollowback

Prompt 31: “We never see you two so much as kiss in public but last night we all heard you having sex.” Submitted by Buttercupbadass

Misconceptions by @awkwardeverlark

Prompt 35: No reaping AU. At 19, Katniss considers marrying Gale for practical reasons; the fact she just heard the baker’s son toasted and was assigned a house at the edge of town has nothing to do with it... maybe. What happens next? (was Peeta really married or was it his brother? Does she marry Gale? Does Everlark ever talk? Will Peeta cheat if he’s actually married? Can Katniss admit she loves the Boy with the Bread? Is this forbidden love?) is up to you. [submitted by anonymous] 

No One's Gonna Need You More by @ambpersand 

Prompt 36: Frustrated and stressed out Single dad!Peeta needs a fuck desperately. His best friend, Katniss, unwittingly offers to help him out. Things get murky with repressed feelings, but one thing’s certain, Peeta can’t keep his hands to himself anymore and Katniss is all too willing to oblige at the drop of a hat, regardless of place, time and her own emotions, as long as he keeps whispering all his sexy, filthy thoughts into her ear. [submitted by anonymous] 

Vidua by @darkhorse-javert

Prompt 44: Believing that taking a new young bride every 5 years will keep him youthful, Snow arranges to marry wife #12 from D12. In the hours between the ceremony and the wedding night, he drops dead. 16-yr-old Katniss returns to 12 but now she’s “Widow Snow.” Can she ever be Katniss, district huntress again? With all that $, wedding gifts, etc that were sent on the train with her? [submitted by @567inpanem] 

Fortune Favors the Brave by @ambpersand

Prompt 46: Pacific Rim inspired AU with drift compatible Everlark (or not if you’re inspired by angst). I really just want to see more of that aspect of Pacific Rim explored than what they did in the movie and what better way to do it than with Everlark! [submitted by @katnissdoesnotfollowback] 

Fate Takes a Break by @ally147writes

Prompt 50: everlark discovering on their date that they've missed each other their whole lives (living in the same city, went to the same high school, going to the same halloween and nye parties, were set up before by different friends but stood each other up, shopping at the same store, etc.) [submitted by @sunflowerslyf] 

I Choose You by @wendywobbles

Prompt 51: Katniss E, the Valedictorian of Panem High school, is perfect in all fields of life. And that is the crush of awkward, average in studies, not so popular, never had a girlfriend, often bullied Peeta M. Not only does she have a very popular friend circle but also a handsome, popular boyfriend Gale H. Will she even want to be his friend? Is his crush doomed to fail? Eventual Everlark. [submitted by @white-dandelion-seeds] 

The Change by @alliswell21

Prompt 59: Growing up Peeta started loving her. It was a gradual thing that happened throughout his childhood and into his teens. But something changes when he hits puberty. Her scent has heightened, he can spot her from miles away. He gets a bit possessive. But the biggest thing is when his body starts to heat up and even just the thought of you gets him hard for days. He finds out the family secret of his werewolf genes, something his parents thought passed him. How can he go by with his day and be with her without scaring her away by humping her because of his heat. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

By The Moonlight Side by @endlessnightlock

Chapter 2

Prompt 61: Peeta knew better, but he did stupid things when he got drunk. Now he’s caged at the animal shelter in his wolf form. And, omg, Katniss Everdeen let her little sister drag her in to see the dogs?! He knows he shouldn’t, but teen hormones. He just wants to lick her hand. Get a tummy rub. Hump her leg. Sleep on her bed. Omg, they take him home!!!! He needs to let his dad know where he is. Omg. He needs to figure out his bakery shift. “God, don’t let Katniss catch me licking my balls.” [submitted by @567inpanem]

Maybe Tomorrow by @katnissdoesnotfollowback​

Prompt 62: one night stand!everlark sleeping together the same night a terrible snowstorm hits the city and everything gets shut down with no way to get home. perhaps a two night stand? [submitted by anonymous] 

Genesis  by @rosegardeninwinter

Prompt 66: Everlark post apocalypse, katniss and peeta are neighbors and the only two that make it to katniss's father's bunker in time. Over the course of several years the two have grown quite close having no one else, but now provisions are running low. Do they face the unknown outside or stay put, knowing they only have food to last another week? [sent by anonymous]

Sunset on Grass by @alliswell21

Prompt 67: Her parents said that it was just a childhood crush and that she will outgrow it. But why does her heart flutters. When she’s finally old enough to get a job, she immediately gets a part time job to be close to him. Will is pursue her love against people’s negative views because he’s so much older than her. Or go for it and make him fall in love with her. Age Gap Older!Peeta. [submitted by @animekpopxx] 

A Taste of Rebellion by @acpoe82

Prompt 68: Dark Coffee Shop AU - Capitol Peeta runs a Coffee/Pastry shop in the poshest part of the Capitol. Near by President Snow’s Mansion. Capitol!Katniss is a frequent customer. Things in the Capitol begin to deteriorate as the rebellion drags on. Are they sympathetic to the rebel cause? [submitted by @oakfarmer12] 

You're Not Alone by @sunsetsrmydreams

Prompt 70: Peeta picks up a hitchhiker in the mountains one night, only to find it's his childhood best friend and now escaped convict Katniss Everdeen. In a panic he calls police but after hearing her side of the story comes to believe she didn't actually murder anyone. Everlark on the run. [submitted by anonymous]

Forever and a day... by @thegirlfromoverthepond

Prompt 73: I am a simple woman: I just want Katniss Everdeen content and loved and washed in moonlight I don’t care how you do it. [submitted by @rosegardeninwinter] 

The Most Unlikely Serendipity by @albinokittens300

PART 2, PART 3, PART 4

Prompt 75: An in-Panem arranged marriage a/u where Katniss is slightly older than Peeta. [submitted by @endlessnightlock] 

Shots Make Me Sing by @sunsetsrmydreams

Prompt 81: Katniss finds her soulmate at her bachelorette party (aka Peeta)(Happy ending please) [submitted by anonymous] 

when we’re underneath the lights my heart’s no longer broken by @omercilessmoon

Prompt 92: High school musical au: katniss and peeta as troy and Gabriella. [submitted by anonymous] 

December nights in June by @viloula

Prompt 110: AU. Everlark live across from each other in fancy New York (or the like) penthouses. With all those large windows, they see each other daily and know the other's routine and all he/she does, but they've never met. A chance meeting occurs. What will happen? The circumstances of their living arrangements/any backstory and what happens between them is up to you. [submitted by @acpoe82]

High Heels at Midnight by @hutchhitched

Prompt 134: Visual Prompt. To see it go HERE [submitted by @javistg] 

must work hard, tolerate cats by @mendontprotectyou

Prompt 140: In Panem AU where Peeta is a Mail Order Husband. As the youngest son of a merchant class Capitol family, he has accepted he will never inherit the family bakery. But when his family contract him to an arranged marriage to further the business he will never own, he escapes by signing up to a programme to relocate and marry a district woman. Why Katniss needs a husband, is up to the author. Everlark endgame :) [submitted by @louezem]

Notes: 

Fics organized by prompt number. 

Masterlist compiled on May 11, 2020. Subject to change. New works will be added as they’re posted to the @everlarkficexchange. 

Looking for updated versions of the multi-chapter fics? Try our AO3 Collection