#and that's what's going to happen that's what we get we lose that painted trim

[lookninjas]

2235.

in the midst of all these summer homes in winter crowded together kissing close one empty lot and then another like missing stairs like this should feel like some kind of a relief and it just doesn't and I can't tell you why

[pbandjesse]

I hate how finite my energy is. It's incredibly frustrating. Like my mornings are actually pretty good!! Just it's like as soon as I eat something, the actual of digesting seems to start to zap my energy. That's my working theory anyway.

It was to warm in here last night. It's entirely to warm for the last days of October. My allergies did improve and I was able to sleep a little more comfortably.

I slept until 9. And I felt fine. I didn't particularly want to get up. But I really wanted to wash my hair. So I forced myself up. And while the shower warmed up I trimmed my bangs a little bit I could probably do more. The shower was nice though and I felt a lot nicer after.

I just dressed in a T-shirt dress today. I didn't go anywhere. I just tried to focus on getting some stuff done.

When I got downstairs I made sure Crabcake was eating his breakfast. And had the egg sandwich James left for me. And got into working on my projects.

First up trying to clean the bathroom. I couldn't do much with the tub but I sprayed everything down. I went downstairs and tidied up the cords in the living room. Move the living room fan to the basement. Got one of the large bags of cotton. And brought our bed pillows downstairs.

I cut those open and restuffed them. They had all gotten so flat. They are much nicer now. I am going to sew them closed but decided not to just in case they felt to full later.

I had planned on working on frog leg for the plushies but it just didn't happen. Hopefully tomorrow. Instead I spent the rest of the morning working on my puff quilt.

I got all the horizontal rows done. Just the verticals left. I am going to add at least one more row but I really think I'm the future I will add more. I still would like it to be 12x12. But right now it lives as 9x10. It was nice to just having a long video playing while I sewed. I kept telling myself, just one more. But I would work through all 4 rows in about two hours. Felt good to get all of that done.

Once that was fine I had the rest of my nachos for lunch. I was really already starting to lose steam. Any amount of focus I had to do stuff was leaving me at mid day.

I tried to go upstairs to take the shelves down in the babyroom but the screws were stripped and I immediately felt defeated. James would fix it later through muscle. I had to take a half hour lay down just to get myself back on track.

I started painting in there. Around the windows and the baseboard. I was disappointed to find two of my old paintbrushes were all dried out. I guess they got forgotten about when James painted the hallway doors. I'm not mad at them but I was sad about it. They got me two new brushes though so that was nice of them. I would work for about an hour. It would have been easier if the furniture was farther from the wall but I did what I could.

Around 2 I had a snack. Spilled cereal milk on myself and felt very dumb. I cleaned up and ate my cereal. And went upstairs to lay down.

I would hang out in bed until around 3. When I fell asleep. Hardcore nap. I didn't wake up until 530!!

I was expecting James to be home when I woke up but no such luck. Apparently they had been in an all staff meeting at 330 until 530 and we're finishing just as I woke up. I went downstairs to wait for them.

I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And soon James was home. They weren't thrilled about being home and hour later then expected. They brought me a package (I got stickers! And a couple gifts for others) and our newly repaired watches! Amazing.

James made pizza dough and would get on a call with friends. I didn't particularly want to eat. My stomach hurt. I came upstairs but James still brought me pizza. I had a little bit but I was just uncomfortable so I brought the rest downstairs to save.

Eventually James would come upstairs to hang with me. We watched TikToks. I just took a shower and now I'm having a yogurt.

Trying very hard to not be nervous about tomorrow. It's our 20 week anatomy scan. And it's Halloween!! I really hope baby is okay in there. I am trying my best to remain positive but also. Scared.

So give me some good vibes. I love you all. And hopefully tomorrow is just a wonderful day. Goodnight my friends.

[sunnyie-eve]

13 | That's enough

Series: Odds Together

Paring: Ryan Dunn x OFC Margera!

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: None

| MASTERLIST |

~

"Anna, is in for one very ruin awakening. It's finally her turn for a hell marathon. 24 hours to see who can piss her off the best. Let's go." Bam tells the camera as the guys quietly laugh behind him.

They sneak into her room and set a stereo speaker carefully on the side of the bed where she wasn't sleeping on. "WAKE UP!" Bam screams into a microphone making Raab, Dico, and Dunn jump onto her bed.

"Get the hell out of my room." Anna groans sitting up shoving Dico, Raab, and Ryan off her bed.

"It's your turn for a marathon, Anna." Bam and everyone laughs as she glares at him. "24 hours to see who can piss you off the best. Starting now!" He shouts into the microphone.

Anna throws the blankets off of her grabbing Bam by the hair tugging him down then kicking him out. "Whose next?" She turns to the other three so they let themselves out.

"Anna's in for a surprise when she gets out of the shower. She has this blue shampoo she uses and well I decided to change that." Bam laughs standing outside of her room. "She's gonna lose it."

When Anna gets out of the shower she keeps her hair up in a towel to get dress. When she does go to dry it she sees her hair was now a dark midnight blue. She holds in her anger and dries her hair and puts it up in a ponytail.

"Now which one of you assholes did this?" She asks joining them downstairs.

"Like what you did with your hair." Bam laughs first so she knew it was him.

"Thank you but stay out of my bathroom." She smiles and as Ape comes in she gasps seeing Anna's hair.

"What happened to you?" She walks over touching her hair.

"Bam."

"It's Anna's marathon." Dunn adds making Ape complain because she hates them.

"I'll take you to work and fix your hair for you. Come on." April tells Anna so she follows her out of the house.

"So I know Anna a little more than the others and her own family. They don't know this but she has this little thing for certain things. Main example, her books, movies, and music had to be in a certain order. It bugs the shit out of her if they're messed up. She takes her time organizing these and no one but me notices this. So I'm gonna really mess it up. Trust me, she's gonna turn red." Ryan tells the camera as he mixes things around.

"See her movies are categorize by genres and franchises. You have your horror, musicals, animated, and crap." He points out.

"Now over here on her dresser is all her favorite makeup she wears... into the trash it goes." He uses his arm to sweep everything into the bucket.

"Theses skateboards and posters on the wall... have to be straight so we make them crooked. As I said it may not seem like a big deal but I know Anna." He chuckles to himself.

Meanwhile Dico decided to follow Ape and Anna to the hair salon to bug the shit out of her. Everyone knew Anna always tried to get space from them so he wasn't gonna let that happen.

"What's your plan?" Anna asks as her mom works on her hair to get the blue out and make it brown again.

"To bug you." He smiles.

"By starring at me?" I ask and he nods his head.

"And just talking nonstop." He starts to tell different stories as she gets her hair worked on.

"Do you want my to trim the dead ends?" Ape asks and Anna says yes. As April leaves for a secret Dico goes stands behind Anna.

"Dead ends are just this much right?" He grabs her hair to ask.

"Yes." She flips through the magazine in her lap waiting for her mom.

"Why not cut up to here?" He grabs the scissors cutting a big stand of hair short.

"Brandon!" Anna screams trying to see how short he cut it. She lets out a whine seeing how short he did it.

"Brandon really?" April comes back seeing Anna's hair. "You'll look great with short hair, baby." April tries to reassure her daughter and she starts to hair cut.

When they get home Anna sees her car painted and beat up laying upstairs down. "My car has always been off limits. What the hell?" She marches into the house making everyone stares at her hair.

"Nothing is off limits for all this. What happened to just fixing the color?" Bam asks holding a broken bracelet and a hammer.

"DiCamillo got a hold of the scissors. What's in your hand?" She walks over to him.

"Found this in your jewelry box in an envelope that said, whenever you miss me just wear this. I figured it was something from a stupid ex and you can't let go so I did it for you." He breaks it more.

"It wasn't from a stupid ex! It was from someone in LA! That was an expensive gift from the heart! That's all I have from that person! God, I hate you." Anna huffs walking up to her room to work some. "What are you throwing out the window?" She sees Raab.

"These random rocks in your dresser. Why do you even have them in here?" He throws them all out.

"Because I like to collect them. Damn it." She tugs the box from him to put the rocks back inside. As she leaves she notices her all the little things Dunn messed up making her face turn red. "DUNN REALLY! YOU KNOW HOW THAT SHIT BUGS ME!" She yells walking downstairs to go get her rocks back.

"We should do something with the Snow globes I found. There's a lot." Raab brings down the box.

"Yes, let's go play some baseball outside." Bam grabs it rushing outside with Dico and Raab.

"Wait! Anything but those!" Ryan runs after them because that's something really meaningful to Anna. He's even got most of them for her and those end up being her favorite. "Bam, please don't." Ryan's sees them pulling out one to throw. "I got her that one for a birthday gift." He sees one of his.

"Get her a new one." Bam says as it's thrown and he hits it with the bat.

"She's gonna kill me and I'm not even doing it." Ryan rubs his face.

As Anna picks up the last of her rocks she heads back but sees the guys breaking things and Ryan trying to get a box from Dico. As she narrows her eyes she sees what they were doing.

"STOP!" She screams running over to them. "You guys really go through all of my shit? Knock it off! It's not funny! Stop it!" She watches them keep breaking more.

"It's just snow globes." Raab laughs catching her number one favorite.

"Not that one! Please." She begs him. "I'm begging you not that one! Raab! Chris! Christian!" She tries to get him to listen to her.

"Okay, y'all pissed her off stop now." Ryan finally gets the box from Dico.

Raab just laughs throwing it to Bam who hits it calling out home run. Anna runs over to the broken globe and picks up the bigger piece trying not to cry in front of everyone to see.

Her favorite one was one of the many Ryan got for her. This one in particular was the one he got to try to cheer her up after the whole thing with her ex and the football team. It was the enchanted rose from Beauty and the Beast. Ryan told her the gift was symbol of their friendship that would last forever since it could never die in this case. He'd always be there for her no matter what.

Ryan walks over to her with the box with the rest of the globes. "Don't touch me." She says through her teeth so he sets the box next to her. "Whose idea was this?" She looks at Ryan upset.

"Raab brought the box down but it was Bam's idea. I tried to get it back." He explains as she stands up with the boxes.

"Here. Since you love to mess up everything meaningful to me." She drops the boxes at Bam's feet walking back towards the house not caring anymore.

"Sorry, but I'm not letting you do that." Ryan picks up both boxes. "Unlike you, I know how special these are to her." He goes towards the house. Not wanting to bug Anna more he takes them to his room putting them in his closet. If he listened close enough he could hear her crying in her room cursing to herself as she fixes what he did to her room.

"Fuck it." He goes over to her room. "I knew how to mess with you in a decent way." He straightens the things on the wall as the camera crew comes in.

Anna looks at them annoyed but ignores them. "Decent? You did something that iches part of my brain. Something only you knew that makes me annoyed." She eyes him fixing things.

"Your face turned read though right?" He asks with a smile.

"Yes, it did you asshole." She said so he goes to his room real quick to get her stuff.

"I wouldn't let you let him do whatever with these." He places the boxes in her closet now.

"You're the best." She give his a smile then stops when Bam calls her name. "Kill me." She leaves with Ryan following her.

As she looks down she sees him holding her sketchbook with designs for work. "Give me that now." She rushes down the stairs fast as she sees the fireplace was lit.

"This is what you do during your free time? You need to do something more useful like cleaning up our messes."

"Bam. I think your sister has had enough." April tells him as everyone watches them.

"Bam, okay you win. Just give me that. It's important to me. It's something I do for on the side for work." Her heart starts to race because that's something she puts a lot of work into.

"That's the stupidest lie ever." He tossing it into the fire making Anna lose it.

"THAT'S IT! BRANDON COLE MARGERA! I'M GONNA KILL YOU!" She rushes towards him so he runs away laughing at her.

"It's just a stupid book. I'll buy you a new one. I'll buy you the stupid same snow globe and a better car." He gets behind something to keep the distance from her.

"It's not a stupid book! I put so much time into those designs for work. Yeah, I have a stupid job! My stupid rocks aren't stupid to me! My stupid snow globes are stupid to me! And of course you say can just buy me a new one! If I had money like you, I'd pay not to be related to you! I'd pay you to leave me alone!" Anna throws a pool ball at him and he ducks. "I fucking done with you and your bullshit." She goes up to her room locking the door since she got Glomb to put a doorknob with a lock on it finally.

Everyone stays quiet for a few minutes after Anna left the room. "She didn't mean it. She's just really upset." April tells Bam.

"No, she meant that." Ryan speaks up so they look at him. "When you mess with Ape, Phil, and Don Vito, it's small things that aren't that meaningful to them. These literal small things were really meaningful to her. You, hell all of you, would know that if you actually spent quality time with her. Those stupid rocks she finds actually make her happy. The reason she keeps certain rocks it's because when she having a good time with someone. She finds one she likes to remember the day if it was special enough. Most of the snow globes you broke were ones I got for her birthdays, whenever she was upset, or just because I wanted to make her day." He sighs leaving going to his room.

[theprinceofnothingatall]

November 17, 2024- 110.2 ish

It’s all going to shit again and it’s my fault.

I’m “fixing” it by water fasting for 6 days.

I crave a cigarette and I haven’t tasted one in two months now. Just sounds nice with the cold air. Maybe I’ll go out on the roof and have one on Friday.

My partner came home. He’s sitting on the bathroom floor doing homework while I’m in the bath. Really annoyed the past two days, but I stopped taking my bipolar meds and anxiety so that’ll do it. Still taking my apple cider vinegar and green tea weight loss pill.. only one the next few days since it’s water fast diet of lemon water, diet soda, black coffee, and plain herbal or black tea. I could have a bang or 0 cal energy drink on Friday but no money til then. I’ll break about 142 hours or longer on sat. I’ll take a bite of something. No more than that I have to be careful not to hurt my tummy. I’m going to feel so good. I’ll be 50 hrs in when I go back to work Tuesday. Work for 3 days. Good activity.. I’ll work really hard. Fasting so I feel better. They won’t fire a sick person who’s brother attempted suicide and they need me it’s end of the year. I won’t screw up anymore. I won’t be so worthless anymore. It’s a bit crazy trying to lose 10 pounds in 6 days but hey it’s possible. I’ve never water fasted longer than half a day. Nearly a week will only trim my down, take away any bloat and make me feel light as a feather. This will make me feel better… every 10 hours I can have soda or a drink or tea or something.. maybe 5. In 5 hours it’ll be almost 4. I’ll have a soda. 5 more hours it’ll be almost 9, I’ll have ginger tea or something. Drink my black coffee in a small cup so it’s more manageable and more like 1 cal the 1-2 cal tea and coffee will have won’t break just 10 from the energy drink would cause just cause. My fast my rules. Monday I’ll fall asleep at 8 or 9. Prolly 8 just to make sure. I’ll start taking iron. My leg circulation has been fucking up. B/p free face in… well by Dec 1. Guess my limit for camping will be 400. Might stay that too con then go up to 742 then back down.. after … god thanksgiving is the 26. That’s in nevermind the 28… still that’s 10 days. My limit will stay 400 for the camping tree and I’ll go back to water fasting when we get back… 742 cal limit for thanksgiving then back to water fasting depending. If I’m 99 in 6 days, or even 101.2. No 99, I can go to 400 after thanksgiving til con but that’s just 9 days. That’s 216 hours.. 3 days more than what I’m doing now. Only an hour and half in.. the fucking irony of my stomach making noises because of the pill moving my food and my fat gut digesting pizza and he asks if I want anything for lunch. His appetite has come back some. But I’m still only 74 pounds lighter… our difference needs to be drastic.. if I were 84 he’d be 100 pounds more than me. But he’s gonna lose more.. 74 pounds lighter than me then he’d be 158… prolly as far down as he’ll get anyway… it’s so triggering to me.. I’ll have to lose weight fasting like this. I’m clipping all my nails when I get out of the shower. Maybe I’ll paint them. He whispered I love you. Doesn’t sound like him. That fake. God he won’t touch me rn why did he think it would be so easy for me to touch her last night? We just had that conversation JUST a few hours before. Then turned it around like I was the bad one. They’re about to be so busy with work I can at least fake eat. I’ll not ask for food from their job. Hell maybe I’ll drop a cup size by Dec 1 that’d be nice. Imma finish my wig… well one of them today. And drink my water and whatnot. Maybe if I faint at thanksgiving my dad will give a shit. I have to be smaller and clearly sicker than my dumb ass step sister… taking laxatives.. god and she looks like an ugly witch right now. At least when I’m thin I’m pretty.. I want her to see me and how I do it so much better. I want them to wonder what happened to me and worry. My dad will give me money to try and encourage me to get groceries and I’ll be grateful. I just want them to care. The perfect little partner on this camping trip. He can pull me onto his lap. They’ll be wine I’m sure. His parents are fancy. My sweet reward for my hard work. Only needing a glass to get a good buzz. They’ll order that fancy pizza. I’ll grab a small piece and take a bite. Two bites for symbolism. Maybe eat the slice.

[the-firebird69]

And yeah since she's a foxy lady oh boy this is something and we can make this a replica and the tires and rims would be similar it's a very old look and you upgrade it a couple of other things they screw things anymore so seamless it looks wonderful. It's a beautiful shape and it's rounded like the modern ones are better than the other a little bit more like a lotus early model or early model Lambo and people buy these older ones this is a very fast car and the rear end we have to work on the exhaust will probably not come out up in the middle and he's right we'll put it down below and put the gas tank there and a trunk leave it or not it's not hard to form up. We can make it in pieces and it's not bad because it goes right with the door liner almost and that door is right near the seam and it would look normal and we would add a trunk and a rear seat so people would be encouraged they wouldn't lose the ability to drive people around facility it's like a prison back there in that back seat but you know there's a little smaller people around and it's really cool this is a real cool car there's nobody on Earth who wouldn't want one of these and just modernize them windshield and trim and stuff and they keep the lettering in the labeling his way to do that this is awesome what a pic it is looking for a mini and she knew about this it's an awesome awesome car and you put the bigger tires on it looks awesome we have one it's going to dodge four-door neon and it looks awesome it is really cool and it goes really fast our top speed with that neon which has 180 horsepower is 360 mph and can handle just about any terrain and it can go really fast on France ramps about 80 to 85 mph it might make noise but that's fine it's really fast run everything fill outrun everything then move this car is everywhere the Dodge neon and Chevy has a four-door compact it'll fit on slight modifications it's a different mold it looks the same I need this car is going to attract a lot of attention if we get it going cuz they'll be a lot of them and his method I think is right and we'll check into that people may want the whole damn thing like right away he says he might not be able to get it going that way cuz we have to play around with all these flyers like we do everything else that's true too that's pretty smart it is the way it's happening and it would help us take over the automobile industry and get back into aftermarket and wow this is cool and aftermarket GT40 seats cost of Fortune but people might buy them when you get them aftermarket they don't have a label and you can put one on them and little little while after we get off your colors and just haven't painted and do the blue one have to have this baby blue one after with the numbers and really it's going to be great this car looks awesome and we're going to make it we're going to make it this is going to be great and we have prototypes and we did not make a trunk in a rear seat true but when you do that have we should have two versions when will you move the engine and one where you don't we're really moving the engine would be like add down at the bottom of any view in the form. Not many will do it but if they do it do you lose the trunk in the rear seat a lot of people won't care our son would do it and says the trunks in the front and that's where it is and you don't lose it but you do lose the seat and we will tell people but it's really you know it's not for that but people will use it and he did it as firebird he had people in it few times and it worked fine we're going to go ahead with this this is great

Frank Castle hardcastle

Going to make the firebird kit it says no it's true not yet but maybe sometime but now this is the best this is awesome

Duke nukes and Blockbuster

He's going to get rest but we really should get this going we spent a lot of time talking about it

Thor Freya and small enough to fit the compacts four doors which is great

Olympus

[rpmemes-galore]

disney’s treasure planet ... sentence starters

“What future?”

“Was it worth it?“

“I'll make you proud.“

“She's lost her mind!“

“There you go! Poetry.“

“I don't wanna lose you.“

“Mom’s gonna love this...”

“I say we kill them all now.“

“Playing games... are we?“

“Why, you impudent little...!“

“You have... wonderful eyes.”

“That's all they were; stories.“

“Go ahead! Slice him, dice him!“

“Don't ever let me do that, again.”

“Now at last, we hear some sense.“

“Okay, okay! You're both grounded!“

“So, uh, how'd that happen anyway?“

“Mmm! Delightfully tangy, yet robust.“

“But, he knew the risks, as do we all.“

“Yeah. Too bad my nose works just fine.”

“A ludicrous parcel of driveling galoots...”

“Don't you remember? All those stories?“

“Just a lifelong obsession... I’ll get over it.”

“Hit your head there pretty hard, didn't ya?“

“I don't know what to do, I get so flustered.“

“You give up a few things, chasing a dream.“

“We were better off on the exploding planet!”

“Why? You got something to hide, bright-eyes?“

“Oh, shut up. You know I don't mean a word of it.”

“Oh, don't be daft. You've been very helpful. Truly.“

“Hey, mister? Hey, mister, you're okay in there, right?“

“I mean, I am a doctor, but I'm not that kind of doctor.“

“I'm fluent in ‘flatula’. Took two years of it in high school.”

“I'm just sorry I couldn't have been... more helpful to you.“

“I just don't want to see you throw away your entire future!“

“I gotta find a place to hide, and there's pirates chasing me.”

“Aw, he took a shine to me. We've been together ever since.“

“I really, really, really, really want to go. And it's the right thing.“

“No. He was more the taking-off-and-never-coming-back sort.“

“Oh, pirates! Don't get me started on pirates! I don't like them.“

“With the greatest possible respect... zip your howling screamer.”

“All that talk of greatness? Light coming off my sails? What a joke.“

“Ah, I've got some plans... to make people see me a little different.“

“Yes, yes. No, I mean, I understand, but, um, co-couldn't we just---?“

“You can keep that kind of flim-flammery for your spaceport floozies.”

“Look, if you're gonna come along, you're gonna have to stop talking.“

“I don’t know... they weren't exactly singing my praises when I left home.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I was never much good at games... Always hated to lose.“

“You won't so much as eat, sleep, or scratch your BUM without my say-so!“

“Without the map we're dead. If we try to leave we're dead. If we stay here...“

“You're as trim and as bonnie as a sloop with new sails and a fresh coat of paint!“

“Are you saying this because it's the right thing... or because you really wanna go?“

“It's totally preposterous, traversing the entire galaxy alone... that’s why I’m going with you.”

“Like it or not, I'll be pounding a few skills into that thick head of yours to keep you out of trouble.”

“They're... How did I describe them? I said something rather good this morning before coffee.”

“You got the makings of greatness in you, but you got to take the helm and chart your own course!”

“Look at you! Glowing like a solar fire. You're something special. You're gonna rattle the stars, you are!”

“He's a-comin'. Can ya hear 'im? Those gears and gyros, clickin' and whirrin' like the devil, himself!”

“Didn't your pop ever teach you to pick your fights a bit more carefully? Your father not the teachin' sort?”

“I know that I keep messing everything up. And I know...that I let you down. But this is my chance to make it up to you.“

“I should never have listened to that pushy two-headed saleswoman... this one said it fit, that one said it was my color...”

“Is it that your body is too massive for your teeny-tiny head, or is it that your head is too teeny-tiny for your big fat body?“

“Look, don't you get it?! I screwed up! I mean, for two seconds, I thought that maybe I could do something right, but --- !”

“Whatever you heard back there, at least the part concerning you, I didn't mean a word of it. If that bloodthirsty lot thought I had gone soft, they'd have gutted us both.“

“This should be a wonderful opportunity for the two of us to get to know one and other. You know what they say. ‘Familiarity breeds...’, um, well, ‘contempt’. But, in our case...”

“I mean, I am a doctor, but I'm not that kind of doctor. I have a doctorate, it's not the same thing. You can't help people with a doctorate. You just sit there and you're useless!“

“And when the time comes you get the chance to really test the cut of your sails, and show what you're made of! Well, I hope I'm there, catching some of the light coming off you that day.“

[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 6.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Asshole!Yoongi

A/N: As always, my loves @ppersonna, @ladyartemesia, @xjoonchildx consistently support me and make me feel better about how I’m writing. I’m so fucking grateful to them! I really wouldn’t be here without them and of course without all of you <3

Hospitals have always frightened you. They always smelled a little too much like cleaning supplies and for some odd reason they always had an underlying scent of sickness. Not that you could equate the smell of sickness to anything in particular-- but it just had that scent.

You can remember when your mother got her appendectomy and your dad told you to bring her doshirak while he went off to work, it scared the ever living hell out of you.

It's not that you were a hypochondriac or at least you didn't think you were. But now, as you stand beneath the large entrance to the VIP admittance area, your skin begins to crawl.

Maybe it’s the fear of entering the hospital and getting sick from others or maybe it’s the fact that you’ll be in a small space with the father of your child quite like that fateful night.

You hear a car quickly approaching behind you as you stare up at the gold trimmed sign of the entrance and you can practically feel him. You choose not to turn around, memories of your shopping trip still stuck in your mind like superglue.

Shopping with Yoongi was like a very failed, fucked up montage. You would try something on, come out of the dressing room and he would grimace and wave his hand while sipping champagne telling you to go put on something else.

Namjoon told you that he is a good person, and his life has been hard so being a dick is how he compensates. You want to believe him, but it’s just so hard.

“Little dove. Good morning,” you hear from behind you.

Angling your head to the voice, you take in his appearance. His black hair was combed back, a few odd hairs landing on his forehead. His eyes were fierce and piercing as always. And, his voice is as smooth as silk. For the first time, you notice two piercings on his left ear as he approaches. One is a small hoop made of diamonds and the other just a diamond stud. They look good on him, really fucking good.

“Hi.” you say, lifting your arm awkwardly to wave.

“You ready to see the Kisung heir?” he asks as he looks down at his Rolex.

Just the thought has a lump forming in your throat. Are you ready? This is all so fast and so fucked up.

“I think so,” you reply, earning half of a smirk from him.

“Let’s go up. We have other things to do today.” he tells you as he walks off to the entrance without you.

He makes you feel like such an intrusion. You really are a pauper in his lifestyle.

He holds the door open for you and you’re immediately hit with the smell that can only be akin to a hospital. It makes your stomach churn and suddenly you feel flush. Your skin prickles with heat, a thin layer of nervous sweat beginning to build up on your body.

Stopping at the entrance, you watch as nurses and doctors pass by without a second glance. The simple sight of scrubs and surgical caps is enough to have you leaning against the large potted plant that sits adjacent to the door.

Yoongi begins talking and the sound starts to drown out as you focus on the marble floor.

“Hey. Y/N.” you hear him call impatiently.

“Water,” you whisper softly as your vision begins to tunnel.

“Y/N?” he asks again, softer this time.

“I-I need water.” 

Your mouth is going dry and it’s starting to become hard to swallow.

Your shaky hand reaches out for the lip of the planter beside you to hold you steady.

“Oh fuck!” Yoongi yelps out, he catches your arm as you begin to fall.

“Can I get some water over here?!” he calls to the receptionist and they’re quick to do his bidding.

“I-I’m sorry,” you feel your eyelids getting heavy as you speak.

“Just relax. Calm down. What is it? Is it the kid?” he asks softly in your ear as he hauls you up. Tugging your arm just enough, he’s able to slide his body behind yours. You can feel the hard plains of his abs through his crisp shirt as he molds your body to his.

A receptionist rushes over with the bottle of water and he cracks it open quickly before handing it to you.

“Let’s sit down for a second. Come on,” he whispers in your ear.

Your feet feel as heavy as bricks while he pulls you over to the seating area. Tying your hair up in a ponytail, you lean back into the plush couch with a sigh.

“Drink the water.” he commands, his voice is gruff but the tone is riddled with nervousness.

You sip the water slowly, the spots in your eyes beginning to diminish as he puts his hand on your knee.

“Look at me, just focus on my face,” he calls, tapping his index finger beneath your chin.

Slowly turning your head to him, you can see his eyebrows furrowing with nerves. He cards his fingers through his hair as his thumb rubs gentle strokes on your knee.

“Is it...morning sickness?” he sounds uncomfortable even saying it. You feel uncomfortable hearing it.

You shake your head to him and that seems to make him relax just a bit.

“I have an irrational fear of hospitals,” you reply as your heartbeat begins to slow down. He tilts his head curiously and he wonders to himself what you’ve been through to get a panic attack quite like this.

Was it something that’s happened to you in the past? You seem to be scared of almost anything.

Usually, Yoongi would be annoyed at the mention of anything irrational. But, he fights it for once. For once, maybe he should be honest too.

“I’m afraid of hospitals too,” he admits to you.

“Really?” you ask as you press your hand to your stomach, the feeling of nausea slowly settling away.

His eyes flicker to your hand and he swallows uncomfortably. He turns his head to the large painting on the wall, he traces the abstract lines and shapes on the canvas before nodding.

“Yeah. It always smells weird and the thought of getting even more sick makes me nervous,” he says.

“Me too.” you murmur hopelessly as you look down at his hand on your knee.

“But, this hospital is really good. My family owns it. It’s one of three that we own in Seoul. You’re safe here. I promise,” he swears as he turns his attention back to you.

It’s almost comforting to hear his words. Right now, in this moment, it’s almost difficult to remember how much of an asshole he is.

“When you’re ready, we’ll go up,” he says softly.

His eyes drift over others in the lobby. They’re all staring. His hand rubs uncomfortably at the back of his neck and you follow his gaze.

He shouldn’t be down here with you like this. He’s married. It hits you all in one second.

“Let’s go.” you tell him as you stand up on shaky legs.

“No, Y/N. Wait. Sit down and relax. It’s okay.” he calls to you, but you’re already off to the elevators.

He watches as you slam the button for the elevator, his hands slide over the knees of his pants before he’s standing up to follow you.

Maybe you weren’t a leech. Maybe you were just kind.

You hold the door open for him and he brushes past people without an apology before stepping into the elevator.

“You have a fear of elevators too?” he quips but his joke is brisk and it makes you scowl.

“No.” you murmur as he pushes the fifth floor button.

The silence is uncomfortable as the doors slide shut, the saxophone elevator music would be comical if your crippling embarrassment wasn’t beginning to swallow you whole. Now that your senses were returning to you, you just seized up as soon as you stepped inside the hospital.

You almost fell on the fucking floor like a flopping fish! How embarrassing!

Yoongi can practically sense your nervousness. He can see it in the way your knees knock together, and certainly how your hand grips the railing of the elevator. Your knuckles are practically white as you stare at the floor.

He should find a way to make you feel better, he thinks anyway.

“I like your dress. Looks not so homeless,” he says and he closes his eyes at how he sounds.

Maybe Maya is right, he needs to think before he speaks.

“Oh. Nice. Thanks.” you mutter as you pull at the fabric of the dress.

So much for trying.

“No. I mean-”

“I wear deliciously brown burlap sacks. I got it.” you retort as the doors open. He sighs to himself slightly as he watches you leave him alone in the elevator.

You walk off without him and he’s only a few steps behind but he feels as if he’s losing his ground.

Not only did he almost beat up Park Jimin at the mention of you, but now he’s starting to feel sorry for the things he says? Just what the hell is going on?

But, he can see a different personality almost peeking out of you every time he confronts you. It’s almost nice to see you being different then just nervous and scared.

“Oh! Mr. Min! Right on time, you can follow me!” a nurse calls to him from the reception desk.

“This is the VIP wing, only my family is taken care of up here,” he announces to you. You feel his hand press gently to your lower back and you pull away uncomfortably as you follow the nurse.

His hand feels too comfortable on your back for your liking.

The VIP room is gigantic, so far beyond what you originally had thought just a little while ago when you were downstairs.

The table with stirrups looks intimidating and uncomfortable.

“Just take off your underwear and the doctor will be right in,” the nurse says, her hand slides over Yoongi’s shoulder and you find yourself grimacing at how comfortable he is with it.

It’s like he doesn’t even register that to normal people, that would be uncomfortable.

“Thanks Mira.” he says as he folds his arms.

You watch the door shut and you shake your head in disbelief as he casually sits down in the chair beside the examination table.

“You fuck her too?” you ask him as he pulls out his phone.

“Just once. She wasn't into what I'm into,” he replies calmly and you roll your eyes.

Looking around for somewhere shielded to take off your underwear, his eyebrow quips up.

“I have seen all of you before, y’know. You can just take off your panties and give them to me,” he gives you a big smile as he holds his hand out and you scowl at the notion.

“Asshole.” you whisper, earning a chuckle from him as you walk into the bathroom.

Taking off your underwear, you stare at yourself in the mirror. This was just an out of body experience at this point. You were so far beyond the point of anything making sense. Your life has quite literally changed in a matter of weeks and today you’d be moving into a completely different home. You’d be seeing your child that was a surprise. Everything was moving so fast and it’s so terrifying.

You put your underwear in your purse, one that Yoongi has actually bought you instead of having to borrow Leenas.

Yoongi hasn’t moved an inch as he looks up from his phone, “Your room is ready. The kid’s too. Looks good.” He says as you walk over to the table.

You can only wonder what it looks like, did he buy cheaper things because he feels like that’s all you deserve? Or did he buy expensive furniture to really sell just how much money he actually has?

“I didn’t buy the kid furniture though. Thought you might want to do that. Maya said women go through something called nesting? Sounds like a bird,” he says as he looks back down at his phone.

He sounds really fond of Maya. You wonder what she must be like for him, the king of assholes, to be fond of her.

“Sounds fun!” you reply earnestly as you hop up on the table.

“Fun?”

You hum in agreement as you pull the dress down lower to your knees. “I think picking out furniture and stuff is fun. Leena let me pick out all of the furniture for the penthouse apartment. I like doing that stuff.”

He nods, his lips puffing out like he’s almost impressed before the door opens.

The white lab coat the doctor wears is almost enough to send you into a spiral once more but before your breathing can even hitch you hear the father of your child. “Drink your water. Now.” he calls to you.

He doesn't know where it came from but all he knew was that the water helped before and you should feel better with it. He seemed to get protective of you in that mere second.

“Min Yoongi. A pleasure,” the doctor says as they shake hands.

You practically chug the water, the cooling liquid seems to bring you a sense of peace as he approaches you.

“Y/N, I’m assuming. It’s so nice to meet you,” you shake his hand and out of the corner of your eye you watch Yoongi stand tall before taking his place beside you.

“Hold my hand,” he instructs briskly and you grimace at the thought. He rolls his eyes as he grasps your wrist before placing your hand in his.

You notice just how sweaty his hand is… or is it your hand that’s sweating? There’s moisture, for sure.

“Are you ready to see the Kisung heir? This must be exciting!” the doctor says as he sits down on the rolling stool before you.

Swallowing thickly, you give a small nod. Now, the nerves are really getting to you. Yoongi squeezes your hand tighter before looking down at his phone like this isn’t important to him. Or as if he was trying to avoid it.

“Okay, how are you feeling, Y/N? Any nausea? Tiredness?” the doctor asks as he puts on gloves.

“I’ve been really tired lately. Not so much nausea,” the doctor nods as he sets up the ultrasound equipment.

“Any breast tenderness? Are you in pain?” the question peaks Yoongi’s curiosity and he looks up from his phone to look at you as you nod.

“Yeah, they’re really painful,” you reply softly, almost embarrassed at the questions.

He had no idea. You hadn’t said anything about pain.

“That’s normal. Abdominal pain too? Getting mildly bad cramps?” you nod again and the father of your child blanches.

Jesus, you don’t make it seem like you’re going through a rough time. You really may just be stronger than you look.

Maybe this is what Maya meant about you going through a difficult time.

“So, the things you want to look out for are lightheadedness, cramps, very little vaginal bleeding, breast changes, food aversions, mood swings, and increased vaginal discharge,” you nod studiously as he grasps what looks like a wand in hand.

“You got all that, dad?” Yoongi’s eyes widen and he points to himself in confusion.

“Who? Me?” he asks aloud and you hide your smirk behind your hand as the doctor nods.

“Yeah, you. You got her into this mess, right?” yhe doctor jokes as he rolls a condom onto the end of the wand.

Yoongi scoffs gently. “Well it takes two to tango.” he mumbles to himself uncomfortably.

Your giggle makes him instantly relax. This isn’t the first time this has happened and it’s beginning to really freak him the fuck out. Sometimes, the things you do calm him so easily, set him into such a state of peace. It’s terrifying.

“This may be uncomfortable for you. I’m going to insert this and we’ll be able to see your baby,” the doctor says to you.

With a nod, you look at the black screen of the ultrasound machine. Yoongi buries his face farther into his phone at the mention of seeing his kid.

But, he’s pulled out almost instantaneously as you squeak out uncomfortably as the wand invades you. Your hand grips tighter in his and his eyes are on you in a second.

“You’re alright. Don’t worry,” he doesn’t know where the kind words came from but he doesn’t take them back.

The screen begins to shift to dark greys and whites, earning Yoongi’s attention.

“We may be able to hear a heartbeat, we’ll find out.” the doctor says happily.

You wriggle uncomfortably as the wand continues to invade you. Squeezing your hand a few times to try and set you right, Yoongi stares at the screen with a raised eyebrow.

“There!” the doctor says loudly and you both jump with nervousness as you see the small blip on the screen.

It’s so small.

You feel your throat clenching uncomfortably and you close your eyes for a second to make sure this is real.

For Yoongi, he feels his heart begin to beat faster. He can practically hear it in his ears as he squeezes your hand tighter.

This was his kid. He fucking made this. He has to become a parent to this small little thing.

“Oh my God.” he mumbles to himself, but in the large silent room you can hear him so clearly.

“Let’s see if we can hear the heartbeat,” the doctor says before pushing a button on the machine.

The sound is voraciously loud in your ears. The heartbeat is strong and unwavering. It makes you smile. Although this isn’t what you had planned, it feels good to see your child.

Yoongi lets go of your hand quickly, as if you had burnt him. He pockets his phone and his hands before looking down at the ground uncomfortably.

“What do you think, dad?” the doctor asks him happily.

What the fuck does he think? That this is terrifying. That he made a child he has to take care of. He thinks that he’s not ready, at all!

But, it’s his child. That heartbeat -- he made that. He created something so small and so perfect.

His eyes begin to burn uncomfortably, as if he’s about to cry and he makes his way back to the seat before plopping down and taking in a deep breath.

“I think it looks like some sort of weird worm,” he replies to the doctor.

Snorting gently, you tilt your head at the screen.

“Like a sesame gremlin,” you say.

Just your words make him chuckle and he looks down at his shoes before closing his eyes once more.

“So the baby’s heartbeat is really strong which is great! From the size, it’s about five weeks and three days old. Everything looks great, but you’ll be coming back once a month to make sure things aren’t changing or getting out of hand. We’ll take a blood test now to see how your levels are but other than that, things look really good over here. Congratulations.” 

That was the first time either of you have been congratulated on the news.

Yoongi can feel himself filling with something akin to pride.

It almost makes him respect you more. You’re carrying his child.

Looking over at you, he feels as if he’s never actually looked at you before. He’s always known how beautiful you are. But now something feels different. It feels explosive. Like something cosmic was coming into being.

“I’m going to give you some prenatal vitamins for you to take, no smoking, no drinking, no raw fish, no hot tubs or saunas, you should eat really well, drink a lot of water and make sure you just take it easy,” the doctor says as he pulls the wand from you.

You can feel a weight lifting off of you as you look at your child. You certainly aren’t ready. You would never begin to call yourself ready but just seeing the child within you makes you hopeful.

“That’s it?” Yoongi asks the doctor, ripping his gaze away from you.

“That’s it! We’ll take the blood in another room near the elevator before you leave. I’ll get Mira to take her blood,” the doctor takes off his gloves and throws them in the garbage before clapping his hands finitely.

He helps you down from the examination table and you excuse yourself to the restroom suddenly feeling the urge to pee.

While he waits, Yoongi can’t stop staring at the screen. While the heartbeat isn’t loud in his ears any longer, the image of his child is still staring him dead in the face.

“Do you print those pictures?” he asks softly, looking over at the closed bathroom door.

“I can if you want me to.” the doctor replies as he sanitizes the examination table.

Yoongi nods at the thought. “Yeah. Can you print two sets?”

Waiting for the elevator, you squeeze your arm tightly trying to stop the blood flow from when Mira took your blood. She was eyeing Yoongi the whole time like a five star meal and it only got more uncomfortable as the minutes ticked on.

“Here.” the CEO says as he hands you a white envelope.

You look down at the package before tilting your head as you both get on to the elevator.

“What is it?” you ask as you open it up.

“The kid’s pictures. Thought you would want some of our sesame gremlin.” his voice sounds distant but you begin to smile at the small black and white photos before you.

“Did you get some for yourself?” you ask happily as you put the pictures in your purse.

He hits the button for the ground floor before leaning back against the railing of the elevator as it descends.

“Why would I need pictures of a five week old kid?” he retorts.

You shrug with a smirk before looking down into your purse and staring at the pictures.

His hand brushes the pocket of his suit pants, feeling his wallet that secretly holds the picture of your child.

The drive to Yoongi’s mansion sends butterflies fluttering around in your gut. This is like going to a new school in the middle of the year and being awkward and uncomfortable. The silence in the Rolls Royce apart from the random gusts of wind that come through the window don’t help either.

Yoongi is completely comfortable, his legs are outstretched as he scrolls through his phone. You wonder if there’s ever a time where he doesn’t look like he stepped right out of Time magazine.

“Oh, here.” he says as he pulls out a credit card before handing it to you.

You hold the black card in your hand for a second, the weight is as light as paper but just the notion feels heavy.

You throw the card into your purse without a second thought and you miss how Yoongi smirks at your actions.

“You’ll also have a driver. I picked out Minho. But, if you don’t like him then I can get someone else.” his voice is flippant. He’s probably used to firing a bunch of people without wondering about their home life and how much they need their jobs.

The car pulls up to the gated community which Yoongi lives in. Now, you too.

“Welcome to my home. Well...our home.” He says as the car drives past a large fountain that is spurting water on all sides.

You take in a bunch of large mansions as the car drives down the large stretch of road that is lined by pretty cherry blossom trees. Everything about this is so picturesque. You can imagine just how gorgeous his house must be.

“Wow!” your voice is above a whisper as you look off into the distance. You can see a few people riding horses in the far off distance.

“Namjoon’s wife loves horses. She breeds them for contests.” Yoongi states as he follows your gaze.

Leena has told you so much about high profile life, but actually being here surrounded by what feels like billions of dollars is jarring. It’s almost difficult to put into words.

Every stone, every tree, even the flowers seem like they’re perfectly placed as you continue to drive.

“Don’t go into Sera’s wing please. I don’t want to hear her bitch,” he grumbles as he puts his fist beneath his chin.

You give a small nod to him understanding before looking ahead as his mansion comes into view.

“You got knocked up by the right person, huh?” he chuckles as your mouth opens slightly at the sight.

The face of the house is enough to make someone weep, it’s all marble with black quarts trimming and large perfectly clean windows. Each piece of marble is perfectly cut and precise. It’s almost too beautiful to look at.

“I had an architect from Greece come out and build my home. I used to live in it alone until y’know, the demon came.” he says as the car drives around the large marble fountain in front.

“Jeez.” you whisper as he gets out of the car first.

You follow behind him not knowing where to look and wanting to look at all of it. The house spreads out wide and surrounding it are gorgeously cut hedges and tall growing flowers that look perfectly taken care of.

“So. The first two wings on the bottom floor are the gallery. Don’t fucking touch anything. There’s millions of dollars in paintings and statues.” Yoongi says as he steps up the black quartz stairs.

There’s even a man at the front to open up the double doors for him. Which is ridiculously posh and so completely out of your element. Your eyes gaze upward taking the whole house in and you swallow at the sight.

“Little dove, I really don’t have all day. Get your pert ass inside.” Yoongi calls to you as he enters without you.

You follow behind him clumsily, thanking the doorman who gives you a smile in return.

Stepping into the entryway, you can all but marvel at how gorgeous everything is. You do not belong here.

“It’s like a museum,” you whisper and you jump at how loud your voice is in the quiet area.

“Whenever I go out of the country, I like to pick up art or a statue. They’re collectors pieces. Do not fucking touch anything.” he warns you. 

Nodding quickly, you look down the large stretch of the front wings before following him as he continues into the house.

You'll definitely have to look at all of the beautiful art later.

His hands clasp behind his back and you grip tighter onto your purse afraid to touch anything.

None of this looks real, it’s so grandiose and so amazing that it feels like you’ve stepped into a movie.

“Both of these staircases lead up to either wing. Our wing is the right one.”

Walking past the staircases, you spot a sitting room filled with luxurious black furniture and so many throw pillows you have no idea how anyone would sit on them. They seem like they’ve never been touched before. A bar lines the wall behind it and your eyes widen at how fancy it looks. Mirrors line the back of the bar and the dark oak trimming really brings the room together.

“We don’t sit down here in the sitting room. It’s more for show. Doesn’t mean you can’t, it’s your house now too. But, you have your own living room upstairs in your room.” Yoongi says and you turn to him slowly as he leans against a carved marble pillar.

“I have a living room in my bedroom?” you ask softly to which he grins.

“Yeah. Doesn’t everyone?” he quips with a chuckle.

You blanch at the thought before rolling your eyes as he winks at you.

“Come.” he commands as he pushes off the pillar.

“Holy shit.” you mumble as you walk further into the house.

The kitchen is fully open, with two marble islands and top of the range equipment that make you gasp. There’s a long bar lined with chairs that barricades the kitchen from you so you can eat and it makes you blink rapidly at the sight. You can see people working in it, keeping the place tidy and at the mere sight of Yoongi they bow deeply before returning back to work.

“We have a chef from five in the morning to twelve at night.” Yoongi tells you as he leans against the long bar.

The chandeliers that line the place are absolutely beautiful and yet again, you have no idea where to look.

“This is the dining room, where we don’t eat because it’s for parties and I don’t host parties. The leech does.” Yoongi says as he slides open two cherry wood doors beside the kitchen. The table is long and beautiful bouquets of flowers line the cherry wood top.

“Jesus Christ.” you whisper as you clutch the purse tighter to your body.

He closes up the doors before putting his hand on your lower back and pushing you past the kitchen.

“This door right here leads to the maid’s quarters. You don’t have any reason to go there.”

You nod to him as a maid opens up the door before bowing to you both and heading towards the kitchen.

“This is the library slash poker room. Thursday nights are for poker. It’s one of my hobbies.” he says as he grips the gold handles before shoving open the doors.

You’ve always loved reading, maybe in here you can find some good books and take them to your bedroom to read.

“Do you like reading?” he asks softly as you step inside.

“I love reading!” you reply as your fingers graze the marble bookshelves that line the walls from top to bottom.

You then realize how rude it was of you to just barge in and start touching stuff. “Sorry.” you murmur as Yoongi walks over to the bar caddy.

He pours himself a glass of whisky before shaking his head at you.

“This is your home now too. You don’t have to be scared, little dove.” he says above the lip of his glass before downing the contents in one burning go.

Your eyes spot a few books that look interesting and you make a mental note to check them out later when you’re settled in.

“Past this room is the game room. There’s a pool table and some old fashioned pinball machines. Stuff for decoration mostly.” 

It brings up a question that just bursts free from you.

“So you’re exorbitantly rich, you have all of these cool things inside of your home and you never use any of them?” you ask as he closes the library doors behind you.

“Well in order to be exorbitantly rich, you need to work hard. I don’t have time to just sit on my ass and play Pac Man all damn day, little dove.” he whispers in your ear. You blush at how insensitive it must have sounded.

“Through those glass doors is the indoor pool. It’s heated but not too hot for the baby,” he tells you as a maid opens the doors for you both.

He comes to realize that was the first time he hasn’t called your child ‘kid’ or ‘thing’ around you.

Maybe seeing the small sesame gremlin on the screen really did do something to him.

“Wow. This is amazing Yoongi. Your parents must be so proud of you.” you say as you walk along the heated floor of the pool. He chuckles to himself as you look at the marble recliners that are for relaxing on the side.

“Parents.” he snort at the notion.

He tilts his head cryptically as you look out the glass walls of the room. It’s almost as if you’re in a snow globe. Every wall is glass, there’s some stained glass pieces that fleck the floor with pretty colors as the sun comes out from behind a cloud.

“Shall we go up to our win-” his voice is cut off by screaming in the distance and you jump at the screeching noise.

“That’s the leech. She probably lost a follower on Instagram.” he says as his hand wraps around your arm before tugging you toward the noise.

While you haven’t been fully versed in just how evil Sera is, you’re positively nervous to see her. Leena told you to look her up on the Internet but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You were too frightened for what you would find.

“Sir!” the voice is absolutely elated and so sweet sounding that it puts a small smile on your face.

Yoongi positively lights up as an older woman approaches the both of you from the maid’s quarters. Her hair is in a neat bun and her clothes are wrinkle free. She seems a bit older and has a tan to her skin as if she’s been out in the sun working.

“Y/N. This is Maya. Head maid.” you shake her hand happily as Yoongi begins to smile.

“It’s so nice to meet you! I've heard amazing things about you!” you say happily as she puts her hands on her hips.

“Well! Aren’t you just absolutely gorgeous! Welcome to the home Madam, I’m so happy to be of service to you!” Her words are so kind and she’s so sweet but it’s the intent of the words that make you feel uncomfortable.

“Oh, Maya. No. You can call me Y/N. You don’t have to treat me like Yo-”

“Nonsense! You’re a big part of the home just as much as the other two that live here! Don’t be silly!” you hum uncomfortably as Yoongi snorts.

“Please be as kind to Maya as you possibly can. She’s an angel.” 

This is the first time that you’ve heard him speak so kindly about someone. It’s heartwarming, if you’re being honest.

“Let me take your purse.” Maya says softly, noticing how you clutch onto it for comfort.

“Oh no. It’s okay.”

“Give her the purse, little dove.” Yoongi retorts before snapping his fingers as you pass the kitchen.

“Yes, Sir?” a woman in the kitchen asks as he stops short.

“What do you like? Strawberry? Lemon?” he asks as he leans into the long marble bar.

“Both.” you reply curiously.

“Strawberry lemon sparkling water. And a vintage whisky. Now.” he calls out before turning back to you and Maya.

“Show Maya the pictures.” he says as his whisky is handed to him.

He must love her a lot. His demeanor seems to change when she’s around like no other.

Digging into your purse, you pull out the black and white pictures of your baby before handing them to her.

“Oh my goodness! Look at this! How amazing! With such a handsome father and a beautiful mother, your baby is going to be absolutely breathtaking!” Maya says and her voice seems to choke up as she stares at the picture. She turns thoughtful as her thumb swipes slowly over the picture in hand.

“I raised Yoongi from when he was very little, y’know.” Maya says proudly as she hands you back the pictures.

That’s news to you.

“Okay, Maya.” Yoongi mumbles uncomfortably.

“You did a great job,” you compliment her and her smile is megawatt as she rubs your arm comfortingly with her hand.

Yoongi smirks above the rim of his glass before tilting his head. Maybe you two would get along, you’re kind enough and Maya certainly is. Maybe there won’t be so much toxicity around the mansion anymore.

“Do you like to cook?” you ask her gently as Yoongi pulls the seat out of the bar for you to sit.

“I love cooking! Although Frederic is in the kitchen seven days a week, I hardly get to use it.” Maya says as she fixes Yoongi’s tie. 

You watch how well she takes care of him, how she babies him and how he doesn’t move or feel uncomfortable at the notion. It’s like watching a rabid dog be kind only to his owner.

“Maybe soon, we can get in the kitchen together. I love cooking too. Give Frederic the night off.” you offer with a smile.

The smile lines by her eyes crease in delight at your suggestion. “That would be a lot of fun. I’d love that.”

“I would get a night off? That sounds amazing to me.” you hear a heavy French accent behind you and you turn to the chef as he hands you your water. He winks at you with a smile and you return it before sipping your water.

“Wow!” you whisper at the taste.

“Everything is better in the higher class.” Yoongi whispers.

“MAYA!” You hear scream throughout the mansion and you cringe at the sharp noise.

Jesus, she is loud.

Everyone in this house is so nice and kind. Even if you feel uncomfortable living here, the people may make up for it.

“Yes, Madam?” Maya calls sweetly as her thin frame peeks down from the second floor.

Even from far away Sera is blindingly beautiful. Her cheekbones are high and filled perfectly, her lips are the perfect pout and her eyes are big and doe-like. She’s absolutely stunning.

“Didn’t I fucking tell you to put a different fabric softener in the laundry? I don’t like my clothes smelling like a fucking flower field!” She barks out as she throws something off of the marble balcony onto the floor.

“I’m sorry, Madam. I must have forgotten. I won’t forget again.” Maya promises as she scurries over to the dropped shirt.

It’s almost a sin to watch the sweet woman fumble over herself to please her. While she may be beautiful, she’s a bitch. And, you’d hate to be confronted by her by any means.

“Bitch.” you and Yoongi mumble at the same time. He chuckles to himself as her gaze lands on you and you find yourself wanting to cower but the way Maya shifts nervously makes you angry. Really fucking angry.

“What the fuck is that? A new maid? Or a dig ditcher?” Sera barks out as she points her perfectly manicured finger at you.

Yoongi opens his mouth to speak but you beat him to it. “I’m Y/N. The mother of Yoongi’s child.” you call to her.

Her face begins to flush pink before she’s scoffing. “Should have picked someone prettier Yoongi, ugly women make ugly kids!” she calls down to him as she retreats back to her wing.

“Ugly personalities make ugly people.” you retort softly, bringing your glass of water to your lips.

The father of your child chuckles softly beside you and your heart warms at the noise.

“That’s the leech. I’m sure you’re thrilled to have met her.” you hum playfully in agreement before hopping off the bar stool.

The only thing in Yoongi’s mind is just how right this all feels. How perfect you are as a person, to each and every person you see. You’re strong willed and stronger than he previously thought but he likes it. And, he wants to see you come out of your shell here. He wants to see you thrive like a flower.

Maybe he should ease up on being so downright negative around you.

“Let’s do the rest of the tour and then you can relax. Alright?” he asks as he guides you to the staircase.

“Madam!” Maya calls to you and you don’t register the word for a second before turning to her with a smile.

“I’m really happy you’re here.” Maya says sweetly and you giggle as she bows to you.

“Me too, Maya. Thank you for being so welcoming!” you reply happily as you ascend the steps with the CEO.

“One half is mine, the other half is yours. My side is the right side and yours is, well obviously, the left.” Yoongi says as his hand drifts over the black quartz wall.

At the end of the long wing, you can spot rushing waterfalls that come out of the walls and into the floor, the sound is comforting as you get closer.

“So the third floor of the mansion is for my hobbies in particular and my home office. I rarely use my home office but it’s up there if you ever need me and I work from home.” Hobbies? What kind of hobbies does he have?

“Taehyung told me that you like painting? Apparently Leena talks a lot about you in her post coital glow-” you laugh at his words as he swings the first door open, “- So I got you some painting supplies and turned this room into a studio for you. It’s really bright so you can work well.”

It’s so thoughtful. The studio is beautiful, canvases of all sizes line the walls and the amount of paints and brushes are almost too good to be true.

“Thank you, Yoongi. That’s so kind of you.” you say as you step into the room.

Your fingers gently graze over the fluffy heads of the brushes before turning to him in the doorway and smiling.

“I do love to paint.” you say happily as he leans against the door jamb with folded arms.

“I just won’t paint anything orange.” he rolls his eyes with a snort at your comment before pushing off of the doorway and moving on to the next room.

“This is your closet. I had all of your clothes moved in here, even the ones you insisted on bringing here. I’m a giver.” 

You roll your eyes at how degrading he is and you don’t even open the doors to your closet as you walk past.

You don’t care about materialistic objects like clothes or bags. You think the mansion is gorgeous but it’s just all materialistic stuff! It shouldn’t mean that much to someone.

“This is the nursery. It’s pretty empty still. Maya thought it would be a good idea to put in the rocking chair she used with me so...that’s in there.” 

The admission makes your eyebrows raise. She must have taken care of him from when he was so small. Maybe Maya is like his mother, that’s why he loves her so much.

“Then this room is your room,” he continues on, not wanting to stand in the nursery for longer than two minutes. Just looking into the room reminds him of the pictures that sit heavily in his wallet.

When you open the doors to your room, the wind is almost knocked out of you. This is not a room. This is a fucking house. A small living room and a television situate themselves before your eyes and you walk around the thin marble wall that shields your bedroom from view.

You have a balcony, sitting chairs, a fucking vanity and the bed is so gigantic it can probably hold four people comfortably with room to spare.

Even the sight of the en suite bathroom is enough to knock you on your ass.

“Jesus Christ. This is... Wow.” you say breathlessly as you sit down on your bed.

“Now do the finer objects in life hold weight?” Yoongi jokes as he sits down in the armchair by the balcony.

“Not everything is about money, Yoongi.” you retort as your hand skims over the plush black comforter.

“No. Not everything. But, it’s still nice.” he says as he lifts his whisky glass to his lips.

“There’s a television in the bench at the end of the bed.” he whispers loudly across the room to you.

“A...television in a bench?” you mutter pulling your legs off of the bench and onto the bed.

“Mmmhmmm.” he drolls with a chuckle.

You’re so absolutely stunned at all of this. This is where you live now. This is your home.

He can tell just how starry eyed you are by all of this. It must be overwhelming to be thrust into such money from out of nowhere.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” he says as he slaps his knee. Your mouth opens and your hand raises to wave goodbye but he doesn’t look back at you.

You look around your room once more taking in all of the new gadgets and toys before throwing yourself back on your bed. Your hair fans out around your head as you stare up at the silver chandelier above you.

“Jesus Christ.” You mumble before turning and pressing your face into a pillow.

Next Chapter --->

Third Wheeling Taglist- @wickizer, @imluckybitches, @slothykreuger, @claireelise19, @ggukkieland, @rspbrryy, @iv-bts, @bambuzlee, @chanelbts, @mxxngxdss, @bluewhale52, @milesjeon11, @diamonddia-mond, @vinylphwoar, @yxnxxli, @hubbytaehyung, @140503at-dawn, @bts-7beauts, @jadeblackwoll, @sunshiine-hobii, @creatorspalace, @eclectically-esoteric, @nikkiordonez12, @kaitswrld, @skamlover200, @sevgilove98, @kooeuphoria, @jikooksgirl19, @hobbledehoy26, @singular-itae, @dchimminie, @lowlifeoeuvre, @sugaslittlekookies, @bloopbloopb, @pjmcth, @softysuho, @codeinbelle, @jaiuneamesolitaiire, @betysotelo18, @jeonmisha, @iwanttohitmyself, @ayyyocee, @neverthefirstchoice, @itsbangtanoclock, @little7bitchh, @veryuniquenamegoeshere, @deathkat657, @firstlovesuga-93, @namjoonia, @paperpurple, @muzikabijou, @liebeoppa, @veronawrites, @kleff03, @ruinsofangels, @brightwingr5, @leekanchol, @rkivemagic, @ithinkileftmycoatoutside, @melaninkpops, @y00ngisbabygirl, @ungodlyjoon, @prochnost513, @dunixxd, @athenakyle, @igotnotype, @chxmachxps, @tinymintyoongi, @vangameren-blog, @alpaca1612, @ohcarolinamin, @thegreatestsushi, @jooniebugg, @eltrain80, @btsmylife21, @deeepvibes, @httpminyg, @deliciouslydisturbed365​, @rkchmestizangmaldita​, @jimin-chu​, 

Some people couldn’t be tagged, I’m so sorry about that!

[diamaker-moon]

Moving Forward - Chapter 4

Chapter Four

First day and investigations

—————

"Haven't you heard?" She asked back in a cold tone.

"Heard what?"

"You're class... drove Marinette to transfer schools. All because of you guys." She said in an icy tone before passing by him then rest left him in the locker room— gaping.

— previous chapter... —

Adrien was stunned.

'Marinette transferred schools?! When did that happen?!'

He stood there for a few minutes before fishing up his phone and texted Marinette, he waited for a reply, but nothing came. He came back to his classroom in a daze.

He didn't bother sharing the information with anyone, thinking that Lila might steal the spotlight again. And besides, he was too busy thinking why Marinette needed to transfer, and why she didn't inform him— her friend.

Nino was worried for his best bro. Adrien barely spoke throughout the day.

Meanwhile, Marinette was given a few hours in the morning to roam and get acquainted inside campus grounds. She was joined by Allegra, who happily toured her and introduce her as well to every student they pass by.

She was enjoying her time in Jeanne.

But behind all the happiness she was feeling at the moment, there's a huge responsibility whispering in her ear. The Cat Miraculous is currently in camouflage mode in her right ring finger as a rose gold ring. She needed to find either a new permanent cat holder or a temporary one. Part of her wants to trust her dormmates. She couldn't trust her temporary heroes anymore, aside from Viperion and Ryuko. 

She could imagine Allan using the Turtle miraculous since he is already protective of his friends. She was stuck between Claude and Allegra for the Fox miraculous.

Claude is a theatre kid, he can imagine a lot of things and that can help during battles but he's more of a fighter than hiding in the shadows. Allegra, however, can do the opposite.

But for now, her main priority is to find a cat holder, even if it has to be temporary. It was a good thing that she had bought a mini fridge for Plagg's camembert stash and stored it in her room or else her dormmates might think she's a cheese hoarder!

All the teachers and students in Jeanne were very welcoming. Her classmates were friendly to her, and her teachers are fair educators. When there is a disturbance in the class, they reprimand both students not only one, and Marinette noticed that there's no 'model student' treatment like the one she had in Dupont.

It was lunchtime, she and her dormmates decided to eat in a nearby restaurant. She missed how she just goes home and eats lunch in her home then sometimes returns with a bag of pastries as snacks. She missed her home and her parents' bakery.

Marinette and Allegra were busy chatting about Marinette's current state in Jeanne, while Claude and Allan are busy bickerings on who will win if Batman and Iron Man fought.

Félix just observed them, and from time to time read on his book.

None of them saw a blonde looking at them with a melancholic look. The blonde smiled bitterly before they left the restaurant.

"Are you all done? Lunchtime is almost up." Félix announced.

The other four nodded and paid for their meal, then walked back to school.

Marinette wants to thank her luck and Tikki, for not having any Akuma throughout the rest of the afternoon.

Upon returning to the dorm, she went inside her bathroom and stared at the mirror. She was looking at her reflection, but somehow it felt unfamiliar to her.

The girl in the mirror, has her hair down, wearing a white button-up shirt underneath a black blazer that had red accents and trimming, the school crest sewed on top of the front pocket and a red tie. Paired with it is a plaid red, white and black skirt that reaches up to her mid-thighs, she also wore black knee-high socks and strapped two-inched heels.

She moved her hair on the right side a bit and saw her signature black stud earrings which are actually the camouflaged ladybug's miraculous earrings, then the rose gold cat miraculous on her right hand that moved her hair.

It was a huge change.

She was used to seeing her previous look since Dupont doesn't require school uniforms but Jeanne does.

Marinette sighed then stripped out of her uniform to take a short shower.

Once she came out of the bathroom, she was wearing light pink high-waisted shorts, a white halter-top with her signature flower design, then a sheer black cardigan.

She turned the soundproofing on then locked her bedroom door before she let the kwamis out of the miracle box.

"Did you have fun on your first day, Marinette?" Tikki asked.

Marinette hummed before answering. "Yeah. It was quite strange to see all the students wear the same outfit, but everyone was very welcoming. Quite different in Dupont. And there were no Akuma attacks today!"

Tikki smiled at her holder. The kwami thought that the girl deserves it. She needed a new environment away from the previous one since it was toxic.

Marinette was skimming through the Grimoire, and the kwamis knew not to be close enough since it is prohibited to know about the knowledge inside the book.

Shadowmoth. A unified Butterfly and Peacock miraculous holder.

Hawkmoth was becoming stronger, and Marinette needed to be ten steps ahead of him. She cannot use her previous temporary heroes.

Rena Rouge, Carapace, Pegasus and Roi Singe betrayed her in their civilian lives, unknowingly. She cannot trust them in battle, even if they were efficient heroes.

She was alone at the moment. No temporary allies, and no partner.

But she might have a lead on who Hawk—Shadowmoth is.

She looked at her bulletin board that is hanged on the wall.

If anyone ever saw the board, they might think she is a detective, due to having a map of Paris wide opened, with marks, sticky notes, red strings, etc.

She closed the book before putting on a sleeve cover for the book then plainly placed it on her desk together with a stack of books.

"Marinette?"

She hummed before looking at her left seeing the kwamis stare at her.

"We finally might have a lead on who Hawk—Shadowmoth is. Why does he need to change his name? The hawkmoth is already a stupid name, but he had to change it to Shadowmoth! Ugh!"

The kwamis laughed at their guardian's frustrations.

"Who do you suspect, Master?" Wayzz asked.

"Plagg, do you know where your previous holder got the book and tablet?" She asked the cat kwami who's busy eating a wheel of Camembert on top of her chaise.

Plagg looked to her before swallowing the rest of the whole wheel then answered.

"In his deadbeat of a father's office. That's where we found the book first, inside a safe behind her mother's painting."

Marinette hummed.

She had valid points at the moment to suspect him. And no one can prevent her from suspecting the fashion guru like before when she had Chat Noir as her partner. He was adamant that the guru isn't Hawkmoth, but now she understood. The man was his father. If the fashion guru is Hawkmoth, he'll be losing both his Mother and Father.

Something clicked in her mind. The alternate reality that she prevented: Chat Blanc.

She gasped. Then hurriedly grabbed her notebook that has all her points and suspect list with a list of reasons. She flipped the pages towards Gabriel Agreste's page.

Possible Suspect: Gabriel Agreste

Affliation: Fashion Designer

Relationships: 

◈ Emilie Agreste (Wife)

◈ Adrien Agreste (Son)

◈ Nathalie Sancoeur (Assistant)

  Reasons why suspected?

- Mme Agreste has been gone for three years, can use the ultimate power to wish her back.

- Secluded from the outside world.

- Assitant is very devoted, can possibly be the ally— Mayura.

- Another possible ally— Lila Rossi. Got akumatized after leaving from the first bathroom confrontation looking all smug, and has been akumatized repeatedly. Also might be involved with the Heroe's day illusion of Dark 'Ladybug'.

- Akumatized when suspected before. Hypothesis: possibly to divert attention?

- Very attentive and tried to reach for earrings and ring before during 'The Collector' after getting de-akumatized...

- Briefly saw an intrigue look on his face when he saw Chloé open a miraculous box in public.

- Has the Grimoire. Now, he also had Master Fu's tablet (stolen possibly during Miracle Queen battle)

-Theory: Chat Blanc said that Hawkmoth was a reason why the alternate timeline was destroyed by Blanc, Marinette is almost akumatized before (in original timeline), is it possible that in that timeline, Hawkmoth tried to akumatize Marinette then accidentally finds out Chat Noir's identity, leading up to a possible confrontation? It is quite hard to choose between a family relative and a relationship...

Marinette observed the page. If she was impulsive, she'd probably march up to the Agreste Mansion, but if her possible suspect is truly a villain, she cannot impulsively attack since he had two miraculouses that can create an Akuma and a Sentimonster.

She was a tactician. She always thinks about how she can use her lucky charm, and mostly in the most complex ways on how to use it.

The only thing she can do for a while is observing the Older Agreste.

"It's decided then," She looked at the kwamis then continued her sentence.

"We're going on a stake-out outside the Agreste Mansion, and possibly the inside as well. But that mansion is heavily guarded with cameras! How am I going to enter it?!"

She annoyingly said the huffed.

"Kwamis can help with the cameras and if there are alarms!" Trixx reasoned.

"Hmm... That can be useful... But how am I going to get an inside look? If there's a hidden safe behind Mme Agreste's painting in M. Agreste's atelier, I need an entrance."

Plagg thought about it before gasping.

"I can look around! I've been in the mansion for a long time, I can search around that room to see any open windows or entrance!"

Marinette actually smiled at that statement, she scratches Plagg behind one of his ears which made the cat kwami purr in happiness.

"Looks like someone earned a prize!"

The kwamis laughed in seeing the stubborn cat kwami happily purring due to the young guardian scratching him. Marinette needed a thorough plan. A plan to look around M. Agreste's atelier without being detected. And if she is lucky maybe retrieve one of the missing miraculous.

—————

"Nathalie!"

The woman flinched before she composed herself and made her way towards her boss's atelier with a tablet in one hand.

"Yes, M. Agreste?"

The man was seething, and she didn't know why. The last time she saw him like this was when they caught Adrien taking the miraculous book to school.

"Where's the Grimoire and the tablet?"

Nathalie blinked. "It's in your hands Monsier. Or maybe safely hidden in the safe."

Gabriel sighed deeply. "The book and the tablet is missing. I check the cameras, Adrien got it again, but when I asked for it back, he said you had it."

"I'm sorry, M. Agreste, but I didn't even know that it was in Adrien's possessions. I'll look around the mansion, maybe Adrien misplaced it, I'll also ask him to remember where he left it."

Gabriel nodded and dismissed her.

Inside Nathalie's head, it was trouble. They were fortunate to steal the previous Guardian's tablet that has a translated version of the book, to fix the Peacock miraculous. They had also found a translated pages about the power-ups but we haven't figure out what it actually means. They also don't have a backup copy of the translated pages!

"Adrien? Adrien."

Nathalie knocked on the younger Agreste's door. She heard a faint 'wait, Nathalie!'. Soon the door opened and revealed a dishevelled Adrien who was currently drying his hair with a towel.

"Yes, Nathalie?"

"I heard from your Father that you had the book and tablet he's looking for. Do you remember where you left it?" She said and noticed how Adrien paled.

"I was only looking at it, I left it on my desk but the next morning it was gone. I figured that you might've found it on the desk and took it back to Father... That's the only place I left it before going to bed."

She observes the young boy and hummed. She instructed Adrien to try and look around thinking that it might've been misplaced.

'I have a bad feeling about this. It's already bad that it's missing, but if my theory is right that it is in Ladybug's possession, we might be at a disadvantage.'

Chapter 3 — Moving Forward: Masterlist — Chapter 5 

[dragon-kazansky]

Made with love | Helmut Zemo

Chef Zemo AU! 👨‍🍳

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 9

Both Zemo and yourself enter the restaurant together, his arm wrapped snugly around you. You dispose of your personal items and stand behind the bar.

Helmut makes you each some coffee as you look around the room.

As it stands, Escorpión Morado had a homely feel to it which was perfect for you. That meant you didn't want to completely lose that touch, but to complete with Stark, the restaurant needed a new look.

Sam and James came in for work. They saw you both chatting and laughing, drinking coffee together. They shared a look before Sam coughed into his fist. You both turned around.

You looked extremely happy to see them.

"There you are! We need to have a word with you," you waved them over. Helmut made them each a cup of coffee too.

"What's going on?" James asked, looking between you and his boss.

"Escorpión Morado is going to have a makeover, and we need all the help we can get," you declare, proudly.

They look at each other before looking at Zemo.

"What's going on?" Sam asks him.

Helmut sighs softly and placed his hands on the bar, he uses them to support his weight as he leans forward. You're trying so hard not to stare at the muscles visible through his tight shirt.

He is dressing this way on purpose? No! Get your head back on to the restaurant, not the handsome chef.

"Stark has opened his restaurant. He is stealing our customers. We need to earn them back. The only way I can think to do that is to do a grand opening of our own. Escorpión Morado will receive a makeover, we will update our menu, we will update our service. I don't want to lose my business."

You wrap your arms around the one closest to you and rest your head against his shoulder.

"You won't. We can do this. It's going to take a lot of work, but we'll do it."

He smiles at you.

Sam and James nod. They had worked for Helmut for years, he was a good boss and they each had so much respect for him. They had seen the ups and downs of Escorpión Morado and have dealt with every scenario. This was just one more.

"What's the plan?"

You glance at Zemo before answering.

"Helmut and I spent some time picking out designs for the remodel. I'm going to make a few calls later and see who I can get to come over and when. Can you help us clean up the shop? We could leave the outside tables for now, let's start inside."

They nod. You all finish your coffee and Helnut takes the cups away to be washed. You explain to the boys what you want them to do and then you leave to go make a call.

Sam and Bucky pull all the chairs out from under the tables and begin to stack them by the window, pushing the tables out to either side, making as much room as possible.

When Helmut comes back out, he begins clearing the bar. Sam helps him box up the bottles and containers, they store them away for safe keeping.

It takes a couple of hours to shift everything out of the shop, keeping on a few things back incase of customers.

You didn't want Zemo to close up until it was absolutely necessary.

You had made several calls. You had organised someone to pull up the floors and lay a new one, someone would come to repaint the walls in a couple of days, and you had hired a van for the weekend so could collect the new furniture you had organised.

You explained everything to the boys, discussing when things would happen.

"So, what do we today?" Sam asked, looking at the new open space.

"Clean everything. I want this place cleaned from floor to ceiling. We have to get all the photos and decorations off the wall," Helmut said, casting a glance to the photo of his father.

You smile softly.

"You should take him back to the apartment until the restaurant is ready for him to come back," you say.

Helmut nods.

Bucky goes to fetch the mop and bucket. Sam goes to get some furniture polish for the tables.

You grab a box and walk over to where Helmut stood by his father.

"I'll let you pack him away safely," you say, leaving the box on one of the tables.

Helmut stops you from walking away from him, pulling you into his chest and hugging you. You're quick to wrap your arms around him and let him hold you.

"It's going to be amazing when it's done," you tell him.

"You're amazing."

You smile and look at him. Helmut kisses you softly.

"Sorry to interrupt."

You both pull away at the new, yet familiar voice that had entered the room. You both turn to see the man you despised at the door.

Stark takes off his shades and tucks them into his pocket.

"I heard something was happening here, thought I'd come see what's happening."

"None of your business," you snipe.

Stark grins, chuckling in amusement.

"Closing up already?" He asks, not giving you pleasure of a response.

"No," Zemo states.

"Oh? Looks like it."

Stark reaches into his inside pocket and pulls out a cheque. That cheque. He waves it about between two fingers.

"My offer still stands."

"We're not selling you the restaurant," you say, standing in front of Zemo with your arms crossed.

"It's not your decision, pip squeak."

"Pip squeak?"

Helmut places a hand on your shoulder.

"What we are doing is none of your business. Please leave my property and take that with you," Helmut nods at his hand.

Stark continues to hold it up.

"Why are you doing this? Just give in and accept my help. I could make this place something spectacular."

You glare at him.

"It is something spectacular. It's special. We don't need you, Stark."

Stark looks at you. There's a smirk on his lips as he takes slow and certain steps toward you. He comes to a stop directly in front of you and looks at you with piercing eyes.

"Who are you?" He asks.

Your tell him your name.

He scoffs.

"This has nothing to do with you."

You don't back down. You hold your head higher and silently challenge him.

"It has everything to do with me."

Helmut places both hands on your shoulders and pulls you away from Tony.

"What do you want, Tony?" Zemo asks, looking at the other man.

"I'm having a celebration this Friday at my restaurant. You're invited. Bring your data too if you'd like," Stark glances at you.

"We don't want to come," you say.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

Tony leaves an invitation on the end of the bar. You don't even look at it, just watching him.

Tony head back toward the doors.

"Nothing you do will change the outcome."

You wanted to punch him so badly.

He leaves.

You turn on your heel and face Helmut. His dark brown eyes focus on you.

"We can't let him walk all over us."

"No, we can't," he agrees.

"What's he even celebrating?" You ask, glancing at the invitation.

Helmut steps around you to pick it up. He holds it up to where you can both read it. The card was white with cold trimming. In neat black lettering, it read:

You are cordially invited to the engagement party of Pepper Potts and Tony Stark.

Formal dress

Friday 6pm

You look up from the card at Helmut. He looks back down at you.

You both smile.

"It would be rude not to."

"Yes, quite."

Sam and Bucky return. Bucky puts the mop bucket down and grabs a broom, getting straight to work. Sam walks over to the bar and begins to dust it.

You smile again.

"A few more surely wouldn't hurt, right?" You ask, looking up at him.

"Not at all. Us two, plus four, perhaps?"

You grin.

"We have until Friday, by which the new floors and paint should be done."

Helmut nods.

"Stark has no idea what's he just done," you bite your lip with a grin.

Chuckling, Zemo turns back to the photo of his father. There was much to be done before Friday.

I wonder if you're proud of me.

Helmut grabs the box you gave him and begins to pack away the plague and photo. You go over to help Bucky with the floors.

I am, always.

@namethathasnotbeentaken @belle82devart @cathrin2405 @lieutenantn @wilder-fangirl @latenightartist-author @lucky-luck-lucky @hb8301 @charistory @thatoneartgalsstuff @thesuitkovian @malkaviangirl @zemosimp420 @realremyd @the-chaotic-cow @lostghostgirl94 @zafiro-draco @lazygurl05 @pinkcutiepiee @goddessofmischief03 @whovianayesha @myybebe @awesomesauce-abbie @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing @swooning-for-mc-avoy @nonamec0s @apparrio @scuttle-buttle @alex-the-nb @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @greeneyedblondie44

[hanoella]

Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 1)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam's who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he's not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Read Part 2

---

After everything that happened with the Flag Smashers and the GRC, Bucky thought that laying low with Sam in Louisiana was a good idea. He had been looking for a fresh start anyway. Between losing Steve and making his last amends, New York as of late had only been full of sad memories and regrets. Louisiana was so different- slower paced and fresh, no negative feelings. No feelings at all, actually. Sam was more than understanding, letting him stay with them until he found a semi-permanent place here.

Currently, Bucky was staring out the window, watching the breeze make little waves in the grass as he ate his sandwich. Sarah and the kids had gone out to the boat, making the house feel virtually abandoned. There was too much space and not enough people. For just himself, it was only a reminder that he would continue to stay as he always had- alone.

Sam walked into the kitchen where Bucky was, effectively breaking his train of thought. He raised an eyebrow at Sam’s mischievous smile- or maybe it was a regular one. He always looked like he was up to something, at least to Bucky.

“Great news,” Sam started. “I just got off the phone with a friend of mine. She’s moving down here for some work and is looking for someone to live on the property with her.”

“She?” Bucky questioned.

“Listen, I know what you’re thinking but before you say anything else, let me explain. So she already bought the house, it’s less than 10 minutes from here so you can still see us whenever you want. The property’s a couple acres so it’s got tons of space. It comes with an apartment over the shed, so you don’t have to share walls. She keeps to herself so she won’t bother you,” Sam said, counting the pros on his fingers as he talked.

“And the best part is: you don’t need to pay rent. I explained the situation, with you being a hero to the world and all, and she said as long as you can help her out with the heavy-duty stuff like taking care of the property and the occasional repair, you don’t have to worry about it.”

Bucky eyed the couch that had been his home for the past several weeks. Don’t get him wrong- being here with the boys was fun. Unfortunately though, he was still in a place in his life where he needed time to think, heal and meditate. The nightmares, although less frequent, were still occurring. Sam was always supportive, but Bucky didn’t want to keep putting him out. Sam noticed the hesitation and spoke.

“You don’t have to decide right now, but she’s moving here in a few days and could at least use some help. She said we could go look at the property now- no pressure though. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”

Bucky paused a moment before nodding.

“Okay, let’s go.”

---

Sam turned into a dirt driveway lined with low hanging trees on one side and a field on the other. Bucky wouldn’t have even noticed it if not for the mailbox on the street.

“See, well this is perfect for you, it’s back in the cut.” Sam said.

Bucky could understand from context clues that that meant secluded. Probably.

It took a few seconds down the driveway before the trees on the left cleared and the water was visible. On the other side, there was a light green house with white trim. With the typical Southern architecture and porch, it was the picture perfect place to live. No neighbors- just trees and water.

Sam whistled as they pulled up at the end of the driveway by the house. Now that they were closer, Bucky could see the large garage on the opposite side of the driveway. It almost looked like another house but much smaller, and with a small dock in the water. The bottom floor of the garage had two large doors that opened upwards, and one regular doorway. The top floor had several windows with curtains in them, shrouding the inside. Getting out of the car, Bucky walked around the car to where Sam was opening the door to the garage.

Going in to inspect the garage, Bucky blinked to adjust to the dim light. He looked around to find several yard tools, some cans of paint on shelves, and a riding mower. On the back wall was a door. Hearing a rustle, he turned to find Sam feeling up on the highest shelf.

“Found it!” He said triumphantly, holding the key to the apartment up.

Walking over to the door on the back wall, Sam unlocked it and pulled it open. Bucky poked his head through the doorway and looked up to the staircase at his left. He turned to meet Sam’s eye, who shrugged before gesturing to Bucky to take the lead. It led up to the top floor of the garage, which was fitted with an apartment that turned out to be nicer than he thought.

It was simple but in good condition. Dark hardwood floor, white trim, pale steel blue walls. Where they had walked up was the living room. Directly across from it was a kitchen area with a veranda to walk out on. The open space then shrunk to a hallway to the left. The bathroom being the first door and a bedroom at the end of the hall. Overall, plenty of space for one person.

“I don’t know about you Buck, but this place seems perfect.” Sam said as he opened the glass sliding door to the veranda. It overlooked the undisturbed landscape, hidden from the nearby town.

“It does.” Bucky responded simply.

He took a moment to walk out onto the veranda with Sam and view the birds wading through the water.

“Well good,” Sam said with a chuckle. “This way, you can stop hitting on my sister.”

Bucky laughed and punched him in the arm. Sam feigned physical and emotional injury.

“Haha, Very funny.”

Sarah was a nice gal, but focused on her life at the moment. Sure, there had been a few sparks, but ultimately she had made it clear that her priority at the moment was her boys and her business. Bucky had been a good sport about it. It just felt good to be back in the game without it feeling forced.

Sam watched as Bucky stared out at the water before switching to a serious note.

“So… You feel like you’re ready?”

Bucky slowly nodded.

“Yeah. This is it.”

Sam smiled wide as he handed the key over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Welcome home.”

---

Bucky had very few belongings from New York that came with him. A small wooden table with chairs. A few books. A bed, a couch, a TV. There wasn’t really a whole lot that couldn’t be replaced if needed. He had been able to take the trip to and from in a few days, already moving his belongings into the apartment. The only big thing he had done was bring Steve’s old Harley out of storage. He probably should get a car at some point since it wasn’t the city anymore but he’d figure it out.

After saying goodbye to Sarah and the kids, Bucky opened the door to Sam's truck.

“Promise you’ll visit?” shouted one of the boys before clinging to him.

Bucky smiled and patted the kid on the back.

“Of course, I will.” He said, looking at the other boy before gesturing for him to join the hug.

“Uncle Buck’s not going anywhere boys,” Sam promised across the center console from the driver’s side.

Both boys eventually peeled off of Bucky’s side. He got in the truck and rolled down the window.

“Be good for your mom okay?” He said to the boys as he waved and nodded at Sarah, who smiled back as the truck started.

“Okay, bye!” They shouted until Bucky could no longer see them in side view mirror.

He really would miss those kids.

They drove in comfortable silence until they pulled up to the house where a light blue sedan was parked next to a storage pod that had been delivered. After parking by it, they exited the truck as you were stepping out of your car.

“Sam!” You exclaimed cheerfully, as you went in for a hug. He lifted you slightly off the ground and you laughed, smiling wide. Bucky stood to the side and observed the interaction, giving you a once-over. You were dressed appropriately for the work you were about to do- light-wash high-water jeans, a white t-shirt with a chest pocket, canvas shoes, and hair up in a slightly messy bun with a few gold bobby pins thrown in to hold back any loose wisps of hair.

After Sam set you down, he turned to Bucky and introduced you.

“… and we met during a charity event that Tony hosted. She offered her services free of charge to help us raise money for the VA.”

You held a hand out to Bucky.

“It’s very nice to meet you! Thanks so much for helping me move in, I really appreciate it.”

Bucky smiled lightly and nodded as he shook your hand.

“Nice to meet you too.”

You smiled and took back your hand before looking at the house.

“Shall we?” You inquired, gesturing towards the storage pod.

“Of course,” Sam replied, opening the door to the pod. As Bucky looked inside, he noted that it was mostly just boxes. The noticeable items were the same as his: the bare minimum- besides a fancy electric piano.

“How’re you gonna fill up this house with a few pieces of furniture?” Sam joked.

“Hey, it’s better than having too much stuff! Besides, don’t guys always say that women have too much stuff?” You quip back as you reach for one of the larger boxes in the pod.

“Ah-ah-ah, no you don’t,” Sam said as he intercepted you and picked up the box.

“Oh, c’mon Sam. I’ll feel bad if I make you guys do all the heavy stuff.”

“You’re not making us do anything. Besides, I’ll be fine, and the old man could use some exercise,” he said, nodding towards Bucky.

You smiled timidly at Bucky.

“I have a bad shoulder.” You explained while gripping the top of your right arm.

“I get what that feels like,” he sympathized, nodding to his metal arm.

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry, it’s not nearly as bad-”

Bucky cut you off.

“Don’t be sorry. If it’s hurting you, don’t worry about it. We can handle it.” He said gently, pausing for a moment before continuing.

“Or at least I can.”

Sam tilted his head back and feigned hurt feelings while you picked up a lamp base and shook it lightly at him.

“Does this meet your approval, Mr. Wilson?” You asked teasingly.

“Why yes, yes it does. Now come on.”

He walked into the house, you right on his heels. Bucky eyed the two of you together for a moment before picking up a few boxes himself.

---

A few hours later, he was sitting on the worn leather couch next to Sam while you went to get them some drinks in the kitchen. You appeared under the white trimmed archway into the living area holding three glasses.

“One sweet tea for the guest, one lemonade for my new neighbor, and a half and half for the gracious host.” You said, holding up your glass after handing the others out.

You three clinked glasses and you sunk into a sage green armchair with dark wood.

“So… how does this work?” Bucky asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“Mmm, yes.” You said, swallowing the sip you had taken.

“Uhm, basically whenever you’re not off saving the world with Captain America,” You started, smiling with pride at Sam. “If you could just make sure the grass doesn’t get too long and help me with some of the more physically demanding repairs and jobs around the house, that’d be great. Of course, that only applies if you’re here, and even then, as long as it’s not urgent, you can take your time getting around to it. Other than that, you’re free to do as you please.”

“That’s very generous of you.” He remarked.

“Well, don’t say that yet,” you said while laughing. “The property is huge so it might be more of a challenge than you think. But like I said, there’s no need to rush to anything. Besides, I should be thanking you. You’ve done a lot for the world.”

Sam interjected before Bucky could respond, which was okay because he still wasn’t used to accepting thanks instead of apologizing.

“Where’s my thank you for saving the world?”

You rolled your eyes and sarcastically rattled off a thank you. Bucky cleared his throat after a moment.

“Anything you want me to start working on?”

“Oh, please get settled in first. I have some furniture getting delivered that I might need help assembling in a few days but otherwise, there’s nothing else. If you have any expenses like paint or tools, you can just use this card and let me know.” You said, handing over a credit card.

“We should also exchange phone numbers too. What’s yours?”

Bucky stalled a moment before rattling off the numbers. It was a foreign feeling- giving out his phone number. He was most definitely having PTSD from his therapist chucking his phone at him. He watched as you typed away on your phone. Feeling his phone ping, Bucky looked at it and saw a message from an unregistered number.

“Hi, It’s me :)”

“That’s my number. Obviously.”

Bucky nodded his head in thanks while registering your number. It had been a while since he had added anyone’s number. You and Sam started talking about something else while Bucky exited back to the main list of contacts. There, your name was italicized and highlighted at the top. What a strange feeling.

…

Later that night, Bucky was relaxing, enjoying the peace. It was warm for autumn, and the water was reflecting the moonlight. He couldn’t sleep. Not that that was surprising. He walked out of the apartment down to the small dock to sip on a beer and celebrate his newfound independence. Sitting on the edge where his feet barely touched the water, he leaned back onto his hands and took a deep breath in.

That’s when he heard it.

Just barely, with his enhanced hearing, he could hear your crying. It was like you were wailing in pain. Not a sharp new pain, but an intense never ending one. The kind that you hear from an animal that’s been maimed- the kind you put out of their misery. Whatever you were holding in, it had been building up for an impossibly long time and finally, exhausted, you found a chance to let it out. Being able to hear it felt like a dirty invasion of privacy.

Bucky swallowed and took another deep breath before trying to focus on the sound of the wildlife around him. But it was no use. Here you were. Here he was.

No longer the only runaway seeking refuge.

[fusrodie-archive]

ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him.

chapter 1 - grisly reunions

SFW, canon-typical violence, blood, mention of death. 2K words.

link to ao3 (or read down below)

Nothing ever happened in this boring old village. Every day he would wake up to the same dull sky, the biting cold on his skin, the smell of blood in the air. And the chanting, for fuck’s sake, the goddamn chanting. In the silence of night, you could hear them if you listened close enough. Even cooped up in his factory, trying to focus on bringing his latest creation to life, through the humming of engines and rattling of pistons, he could hear their voices pleading forgiveness and salvation.

It paints a perfect picture in his mind: a bunch of old farts holding hands in a circle, standing over a creepy-ass painted crest of an unborn baby, pouring their heart and soul into their prayer, accepting death and giving glory to their murderer. The prayer itself never made sense to him, not really, but he had to admit it was a damn good way of justifying their atrocities. Nobody batted an eyelash when someone was taken away, went poof overnight to never return. Something about the sacrifice having been made, fate had led them to the light at the end or some shit. It used to fascinate him back in the day, when he was just a child watching everything unfold hidden behind his mother’s skirt. But he was no longer a child, and after almost a century of bullshit, it was hard not to impale every single fucker who talked about devotion and destiny.

Not that anyone would care about it, of course - sister dearest routinely kidnapped girls from the village and no one seemed to notice the Castle was a death trap. Boxes and boxes of wine would make their way into the village and out into the world, the truth right there in the label, and no one seemed to put two and two together. Dimitrescu had offered him more than a few bottles as a courtesy, an attempt to bridge the gap between them - even he had limits, however, lines that he would not cross. The very thought of bringing a goblet of blood-infused wine to his lips made his stomach turn; he had never been one to experiment much with food. He drew the line on frozen pizza and energy drinks.

It’s a wonder the village still had people in it, really; between Alcina’s obsession with maidens, the poor sods taken to Moreau for Cadou experiments and the failed vessels Miranda would discard like common garbage, he figured at this point there were more lycans than people around. More for him to experiment on, he figured, though digging up corpses in the dead of night had done a number on his back. Haulers could only do so much, and more often than not he would have to get his hands dirty. Not having a proper bed, sleeping on a bare metal cot and decades of living on borrowed time had nothing to do with it, of course.

The Castle drawbridge lowered as he approached, hammer thrown over his shoulder, one last peaceful drag of his cigar before he was thrown into yet another boring council meeting. The vineyard greeted him with the bleak vibrancy of a cemetery, scarecrows drained of color, barely recognizable but eerily preserved in chunks of ice. A waste of perfectly good specimens, really.

The halls were quiet for a change, no tormented screams and blood-curling wails, no giggling sisters running around in the hallways. It all smelled of death and old people, expensive perfume and a good dose of arrogance.

He flashed a charming smile at one of the Castle’s servants, laughing when the girl turned a bright shade of red and scrambled away from him. Heisenberg could hear the bickering as he pushed the doors open, Angie’s joints clicking incessantly as the doll moved about. Moreau’s breathing sounded as loud and disgusting as ever, yellow teeth and the smell of a polluted riverbed with a hint of fish. There they were, his beloved little family, waiting patiently for him, staring at him like he had fucked every single one of their mothers.

“You are late, Heisenberg.” Alcina began, as she always did, eyebrow raised in contempt. “As always. Mother,” she turned to Miranda, gesturing towards him with her hoity-toity, stupid cigarette.

“You are obnoxious, Dimitrescu.” He replied without sparing her a glance. “As always.”

He could practically hear her seething as she finally placed her humongous backside on her chair, having given up on chastising him when Miranda paid both of them no mind. Mother sat at the end of the golden-trimmed table, looking awkward in her great black gown and modly crow wings. Dimitrescu’s finest china was laid perfectly for their little afternoon tea party, cup handles that were too big to fit his fingers, minuscule spoons that were fit for Angie’s creepy hands. The servant that had scurried away at the sight of him had come back with a tray of hot tea, biscuits and blood - the house’s specialty. Miranda began speaking as the girl poured her drink, some small chitchat about the state of the village, the influx of foreigners and progress on her grand resuscitation project.

“Thank you darling, but I brought my own.” He started as the girl circled around the table to serve him, pointing down towards his belt buckle to the whiskey flask he always carried around. She couldn’t help but look down, and then up at his sly smile, the blush returning to her cheeks in full force. Dimitrescu’s reaction was swift, a well placed slap with the back of her hand square on the girl’s cheek. He felt sorry for her for a moment, but it was good training - if she wanted to survive the Castle, she would have to learn that it was better to be blind and deaf, and that she had much more provocation coming her way than his harmless flirting.

Heisenberg tuned out of the conversation as he poured his whiskey, pinching the teaspoon between his index and middle fingers, swirling it slowly, scraping the sides of the porcelain. Alcina’s displeasure at his use of her china for such vile beverages made it all the better. He slurped it loudly to add insult to injury, savoring the drink for a second, sloshing it around his mouth before swallowing, a satisfied “ah” escaping him when the liquor burned down his throat. If Alcina didn’t already look like a corpse, he felt like she would have turned purple. When he unceremoniously shoved an entire biscuit in his mouth, crumbs falling all over the tablecloth, he thought she would vomit.

“The latest vessel, unfortunately, has been a failure.” Miranda announced with sadness in her voice, which prompted all of his other siblings to sigh collectively in sympathy. What a bunch of morons. “However, we have made some progress. It seems my theories were correct - younger subjects are far more receptive to the Cadou.” Kidnap babies, got it. There was no limit to how low Miranda would get to fuel her quest for a daughter that had been dead for longer than she was alive. “I regret to say there are no suitable infants at the moment,” she stopped to sip at her tea. “We can only hope the harvest fares better in the coming months.” Had she seen them as nothing but guinea pigs back then, too? No doubt in his mind she did. The only reason she kept them around is because she might not be able to kill all of the monsters she created - better to keep them close than risking losing it all.

“There is but one more matter I would like to discuss, Mother Miranda,” Dimitrescu began, a lilt in her voice, the telltale sign that whatever would come out of her mouth next would be positively foul. “My girls have brought me troubling news.” Troubling, he repeated to himself, but she had a smile on her face as she said it. Miranda gestured at her to continue, which she gladly did, excitement rising with every new word. “It would seem a monster prowls near our blessed haven. There is talk among the villagers of bodies being found drained of blood, organs harvested, but without a single cut left behind.” She stood up to pace the room, one of her favorite displays of grandiose that made her look like the world’s biggest buffoon. It suited her. “At first I believed this to be a mere rumor, a lycan attacking the livestock, a corpse refusing to rest. But then,” she clapped her hands, the doors to the room promptly opening to give way to Crazy, Dumb and Ugly, giggling in their flowing black dresses, dragging a corpse along like it was a treasure they had found in the forest. Angie tagged along with their excitement, pushing Moreau away to get a better look at the stinking body thrown onto the hardwood.

There was no mistaking the lycan, all teeth, claws and complexion of the finest of silver poisonings. It smelled just as bad dead than it did alive; bruises and injuries and gums that stuck out of its mouth. How, pray tell, was this thing still in one piece? Heisenberg rose to take a closer look, pushed its stringy hair away from its face to reveal glassy eyes poking weirdly out of their sockets. He tested its consistency with a slight kick, stabbed it with the butter spreader, shoved a gloved hand in the cut to pull it apart and open. It looked fresh enough, but nothing but a foul vapor oozed out of the body. Crystal dust lined its insides, shards poking out of muscles. He pushes his arm deeper, feels around the chest cavity to find nothing.

“No cuts, no holes,” he begins as he pokes and prods. “No bites, either. Heart’s missing. This your handiwork, Alcina?” Heisenberg quips, suspicion seeping through his stoic facade. For a moment, he swears he can see the lycan’s flesh pulse, the smallest contraction of a muscle. This whole situation got weirder by the second.

“The technique is truly admirable, is it not?” She offers with a gleeful smile, picks up her cigarette and places a hand on her hip. Here we go again. “I simply must have it. Besides, we must know if it poses any threat to us.” She was right, this time. After decades of experimentation, none of them had ever managed to keep an infected subject whole after death.

His shoulders slumped as she spoke, head bowing to hide his discontentment behind the brim of his hat. He knew what this meant: being sent on a stupid adventure in the ass-end of the woods, because he was the only one out of this freak show with the brain and brawn to venture out into the world in broad daylight, without dying to the cold or stopping every five seconds to infect and pet wild animals. Some of these missions he did enjoy, like being sent to nearby towns for special supplies - or special victims. He was never gone long, nor would he stray far, but those escapades never failed to serve as a reminder that he had a reason to keep going, that maybe one day he would be free and the world would be his to explore.

The four of them eyed Miranda quietly, waiting for the verdict that was certain to come. Moreau cut the silence by volunteering to investigate, the pathetic pitter-pat of his feet filling the room when Mother smiled at him.

“I would not risk you in such a way, my son,” she patted his head without a hint of affection. “Not when we are so close to answers. You must continue your research - Heisenberg will look into this… Whatever it is. You are dismissed.” Her tone was nonchalant, her confidence rock solid. This was merely an obstacle, not real danger. At least, that is what she wanted them all to see; if one looked close enough, they would notice the slight furrow in her brow through the slits of the golden mask.

“As you wish, mother.” He tipped his hat before taking his leave, chewing on his unlit cigar, feet pressing hard against the gravel underneath.

Heisenberg never thought he would come to regret having a proper spine and a functional pair of legs.

[blushing-starker]

don't expect that line I previously mentioned because I'm chaotic and forgot about @starkerfestivals amazing omegaverse week since it goes hand in hand with finals and my brain only fit one of these events in my mental planner

Today's theme is heat/rut and it's slightly nff, has some sexual teasing but nothing too explicit. I'd rate this teen, is all I'm saying. I apologize for any writing mistakes, I'm finishing this at 11pm before collapsing in my bed.

Tagging @vaguekiwi cuz I mentioned this to her today

Needy little alpha

------------

Tony wakes up to a purring alpha throwing himself on top of his defenseless body with the force of a freight train driven by a drunk man on drugs. Peter's been told a thousand times before how yes, he may be as heavy as a goddamn feather, but it still aches when that super strength plops down and refuses to let the victim's lungs function adequately. But his boyfriend is a sadist who loves cuddles and making Tony suffer.

"No."

"You love my cuddles," it's true, they bring him pain and purple bruises everywhere but there's nothing quite as soothing as a content alpha kneading like a kitten at his chest, " and you know it. "

"Uh, that's false. Never said I love cuddles. I tolerate your octopus habits, there's a difference." Peter leans back with a pout and teary eyes, wobbles that God forsaken bottom lip like he always does whenever Tony denies the kid something and presents a challenge.

Nimble fingers slide up into, unfortunately, silver hair and nonononono that's unfair. He snarls, tries to infuse the air with as many displeased pheromones as possible so Peter can take a hint when nails scratch right above his nape and Tony's done. Unravels at this hobgoblin's feet and he's half way sure his soul goes out in a huff as little circles are pressed into the exact spot that causes him so much neck pain.

Peter unashamedly preens when Tony melts into their bed and starts pawing at him for more cuddles. "Say you love my cuddles and I won't leave the bed for an hour. Throw in a kiss and I'll rub your back."

He hates(loves) this kid. Hates(loves) how he sing songs as soon as the situation doesn't favour the actually responsible adult in the relationship. Hates(loves) the way Peter never misses the places that leave him sinking into fluffy pillows. Hates how, oh that's nice.

There are tiny kisses littered on a chest glowing blue, small indentations from teasing lips pressed into spread arms and cold hands.

"Ruts gotten you needy, huh, little alpha?" Not that this one was any different from all the other ruts they've shared since dating. Tony secretly adores Peter like this, extra affectionate the minute his shyness and fear of outside criticism is washed away, replaced with the need to shower his omega in love and attention. Yes, Peter has his heart 365 days of the year. Yes, he'd die for his tiny spiderling no matter what.

But this is just really nice, ok? Previous lovers were rarely alphas so this ritual of gluing their bodies together when rut came was an added benefit to being with Peter. That and the hormones he let out while happy soothed Tony to no end.

Peter nips at his finger, still a bit too early on for him to accept the nicknames. He blushes though, a pale pink highlighting a face much more lovely than the cherubs painted on the cathedrals of Rome. Jesus, he's whipped and all they've done is cuddle.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

"I love your cuddles. Cherish them. Want them every day for the rest of my life. But I love you, my needy little alpha with a fantastic," there's a pillow smashed against his face.

"If you say dick, I'm climbing down to wrestle Bucky and I won't let Karen record it for your spank bank. " Oh, that's a low blow.

He relaxes, let's Peter sink into him with a startled yelp, rolls them over, sits on the kid's lap and clamps his knees around a trim waist. Peter may be Spider-Man, but he's Tony Stark and Tony Stark doesn't lose in bed.

Well. Not unless he wants to.

"You do that and you can say hello to your toy, the one I know is stashed in your old room under the bed in a comic book box, because that'll be the only thing helping you out when the rut really hits." Will Tony suffer immensely if that happens? Yes. He's a sucker for a needy Peter being ridiculously horny and possessive. Thing is, you don't threaten a man's spank bank. No sir. Everything else is fair play. His carefully organized folders of viewing material are not to be messed with.

Peter's blush is on full blast, spreads over a long neck and absolutely delicious, no. Be strong, Tony.

"You know about the toy?" It's a squeak, normal voice rocketing upwards thanks to the position Tony's ass is in and the knowledge that his secret is out. Which wasn't even a secret to begin with anyway because Tony is in love with the only genius not smart enough to erase his browser history in the lab's computer. Which Tony uses. Routinely. Every day.

"Know about it? I've seen it. You left it out once, all used up on your bed while you were showering. You remember that, don't you? We had sex in the bathroom that day. Bruised my back and everything?"

Peter furrows his brow, works a plush lip and no, look away, Tony, look away. The kid is sin and indulgence and heaven and no.

"Oh. Oh." Whenever he thinks his boy can't go any redder, Peter busts out a new shade of pink.

"Yup. So. I'm pretty sure this is what you wanted in the first place. Maybe it wasn't your intention," he stresses when Peter's already launching up and nearly throwing him off in an attempt to reassure Tony that wasn't his purpose with the cuddles, "but you certainly wouldn't have minded this outcome. And by this outcome I mean my incredible ass on top of that fantastic dick."

Peter tries to suffocate with a pillow held over his face.

"You've got two choices, kid. You threatened the spank bank. The teasing is fine, you know I love when my pretty kitty shows his claws," a hand slaps his arm, makes him grin, " But threatening such an integral part of my mental stability? Wrong move, Queens. You aren't getting any until tonight, not even so much as a French kiss will be given. Unless you let me bite a mark on that amazing neck and don't push me away when I nuzzle you in front of the team. "

Well. Now he's definitely being thrown off of Peter's lap.

He lands on the other side of the bed with a groan, is assaulted by a whining Peter intent on receiving something to further postpone the urge for sex that's sure to hit him soon enough.

An alpha, Tony's learned, will usually be very cuddly and affectionate the first few days of a rut week. Then the possessive, protective side will slowly emerge. Nests of pillows, couch cushions, blankets and favorite pieces of clothing appear on the fourth sunrise. The next morning comes with the need for relief, for intimacy and a marathon of sex that'll leave any supersoldier exhausted by the end of it. The resulting days offer comfort, an aftercare of sorts, where the alpha and their partner show a soft affection similar to the beginning. Nests are utilized and bodies soothed. It lasts, at most, a week and the majority of the population only has to take slightly increased portions of food.

That's for people without the metabolism of four grown men.

Peter needs sex, as much as possible, so the itch for urgent intimacy doesn't result in Tony tackled to the floor of the lab in the middle of an experiment every day of the week. It's like giving him nicotine patches instead of a cigarette.

So now he's whimpering, tugging on Tony's clothes just a little too hard if the ripping sound is any indication.

"...sorry, Tony..."

"It's fine, I've got more. I'm not letting this go though. The teams' seen us fuck against a wall, their opinion and respect, your worth, didn't change. So come on. Just one little mark. One. And Bucky nuzzles Steve and Sam all the time. Hell, Pepper sometimes nuzzles me when I'm stressed out. Please, baby? "

There it was; Tony's secret weapon. Peter blushed like a virgin on a wedding night whenever he used pet names, but the genius knows his boyfriend enjoys the familiarity and subtle intimacy. Felt reassured that they were a romantic couple and not a mentor fucking his protege.

The kid nibbles at his neck, wraps gangly limbs around a body that's always been his to take comfort in. "Just one mark? And light, I mean it, Tony, light nuzzling in front of the team. For today. Then I can get what I want?"

He snorts, can't fully comprehend how the universe paired him up with someone so intent on making Tony's joints ache and creak. "Yeah, we can have sex later, Mr Charming. Subtle as brick, that Spider-Man. Let's go get you cleaned up, make sure that rut has a hard time getting my boy under the weather."

He goes to get up. He leans forward. He cannot, in fact, leave the bed.

Peter bites with a bit more pressure, drops his hips down harder and Jesus Christ, they're never seeing the light of the kitchen if his boyfriend can't wait til it's dark.

"Or..."

"I'm an old man, I need protein before you go jumping tired bones that have to spend two hours updating your suit." Ok, so maybe he's slightly bitter and annoyed at not having enough stamina (or refractory period, for that matter) to keep up with a repressed teenage superhuman. It's not his fault Pepper keeps bringing Krispy Kreme donuts to the office meetings.

It'd be rude not to eat with the others anyway.

"You don't have to do anything." Ah, it's one of those ruts.

Tony softens, smoothes a hand down a back that could hold a plank under a five story building with ease, kisses a heated cheek.

"Needy little alpha." It's his turn to whisper and nuzzle against soft skin.

"Kind, not so little omega?" Tony laughs, presses their lips together so Peter can see what's it like to taste a smile radiating with joy and love. Slowly clicks the button on the nearest nightstand; unless someone is dying , it'll just be the two of them in the room.

(There was an incident once. Groot may have been traumatized by a situation involving superstrength, webs and the Ironette costume Tony only adored when it adorned Peter's body.)

"I do so love my needy little alpha needing me, don't I?"

His boyfriend blinks, grins at Tony as if he's just hung the moon and stars for his spiderling and ok, a little sex early in the morning isn't that bad.

"You love my cuddles too."

"Shut up and kiss me, Queens. I'm not getting any-"

They don't talk about anything too important after that.

----------

A little sex early in the morning actually is that bad when you miss a meeting with the U.N and show up smelling like sex, infatuation and, oddly enough, strawberry.

Rocket doesn't stop teasing for months.

[penguinwithitsarseonfire]

Comin' At My Friends Like a Missile

| Part 1 | Part 2 (you’re here!) |

Paring: 12th Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 2,280

Warnings: none

Summary: After the awful encounter with the alien ironically named Karen, you and the Doctor end up on a short adventure to get some of this renowned candy floss. The mission? To put back a smile on Bill’s face.

You were waiting outside, behind that brilliant tent - which was surprisingly quiet considering what the front had been like. You and Bill sat on the ground, sitting on your jacket to protect yourselves against the dirt. You had your arm wrapped around her, holding her close as she processed what just happened.

Nardole suddenly emerged, carrying a tray of four candy floss cones. He held them in the air and Bill whooped in delight. “Finally!”

Which was when Nardole tripped on the uneven ground.

The four cones of candy floss flew into the air. The sun shone behind them, casting them in a warm yellow glow and making them shine. You watched in awe as those sugary clouds changed colour, from indigo, pink, teal, and deep blue. They were ethereal.

Then, along with Nardole behind them, they smacked dramatically into the dirt.

You gasped, running over to help Nardole up. “Oh my goodness, Nardole, are you okay?”

He nodded, dusting off his pants. “Who, me? Nah, I’m freaking bullet proof.”

“No you’re not,” the Doctor said, and Nardoles face fell. The Doctor shrugged. “I didn’t have the budget.

Bill hissed, and you turned to follow her gaze. You winced at the sight, the candy floss cones were sitting there rather pathetically, sticking out of the dirt mounds on the side of a stall.

They looked like lost, dejected relics of a bygone era from when candy floss was something feasible and realistic for you to consume.

Or maybe you were just being dramatic.

Bill let out a dejected sigh. “It’s not surprising really, the path is super uneven.”

Nardole rubbed the back of his head, looking for all the world like he had just committed a war crime – which, was actually probably a terrible comparison considering what you knew of Nardole’s life. “I can go back and get more…”

The Doctor gave the lost cones one look then turned around, stalking off. You groaned, chasing after him, Bill and Nardole following behind you. “Doctor – oh, you can’t just storm off in a huff. We can always go get more.”

He paused his movements, turning around and waiting for the three of you to catch up. “Come on you lot, I don’t do dawdling, not when I’ve got a plan.”

Bill scoffed. “Oh, you’ve got a plan,” then she frowned. “Wait, a plan for what?”

The Doctor just rolled his eyes and continued walking, pushing through the crowd as he did so. You weaved through them as best you could, apologising to those who the Doctor rudely shoved aside.

You had to keep looking behind you to make sure Nardole and Bill were following, and, eventually you latched onto their hands so you couldn’t lose them.

It was disorientating and confusing, almost like navigating yourself through a maze; that is, if the maze was made of aliens pressing up around you because of a heavy crowd, and you had to constantly apologise and ensure that their feelings were in check.

Eventually the crowd thinned as you made it far enough away from the fair. The three of you paused for a moment, taking a few, clear breaths. You took the moment to clear your head and focus on your surroundings. The grass here was delightful, made up of a green vine that spread and wrapped its way across the landscape, and danced in the soft breeze. It was soft under your feet as you walked.

You combed your fingers through your hair, getting loose strands that you hadn’t realised had fallen into your face, out of your eyes.

You finished your trek slowly, you and Bill marvelling in how every leaf of the ground covering vine seemed to be an entirely different from the next. You wondered if they were like snowflakes, each unique from the others.

The Doctor was standing impatiently next to the TARDIS, which was parked at the top of the small hill. He was leaning against the door and tapping his foot against the wooden trim.

He took one look at you all then went inside. You hastily followed him in and before you realised, he was already punching in coordinates and pulling levers and buttons.

“Wait, Doctor,” Bill said. “I still want to try this magical candy floss-”

The groan of the TARDIS’ engines drowned out the rest of what Bill had said. The Doctor leaned back for a moment, then pointed towards Bill and Nardole. “You two,” he said. “Stay here – do not move. Do you understand?”

Bill blinked a couple of times. “Uh – yeah, alright. No moving. Got it?”

Nardole narrowed his eyes at him. “What are you planning any-”

“And you,” The Doctor turned and pointed to you, completely ignoring Nardole. “Follow me.”

You didn’t have a moment to question the Doctor, or protest it, before he was out of the door. You gave Nardole and Bill and a regretful look and followed the Doctor outside - if you didn’t follow him he’d probably find trouble.

Well, he’d find trouble regardless, but, if you were with him, then at the very least you could do something about it.

The first thing that hit you was the sudden and biting chill. You wrapped your arms tight around your frame, doing your best to try and get warm. “Where are we?”

It was dark, extremely so. Firelit torches were sticking out of the dirt ground, lining different coloured tents and helping form a makeshift path. The area seemed familiar, but you couldn’t place why that was.

The night sky was clear, with thousands upon thousands of stars, so many stars, just tiny pinpricks of light perforating the sky to paint a picture above you. They provided a canopy for you both, stretching wherever you were to make it seem larger.

“Candy floss,” The Doctor said. “We’re getting candy floss.”

You raised an eyebrow, confused. “And we couldn’t just get more earlier because..?”

“This is the night the stall opens,” The Doctor said, tactfully avoiding your question, as he often did so. “We have to be quick, I can’t remember if I’ve come here before.”

You blanched.

Oh, okay.

Well this went from 0 to 100 very fast.

“There won’t be any crowds here,” The Doctor continued. “The stall should be packing up in a few hours.”

You hummed, falling in step beside him. “So…” You drew out the word. “May I ask why you just stalked off at a moment’s notice without telling us?”

The Doctor huffed, grumbling something under his breath.

“Doctor,” You gave him a wry grin. “We don’t all have super-duper timelord hearing, I didn’t-” You let out a small cry as you tripped on the dirt path, flinging forward to the ground.

You were pulled upwards before you landed in the dirt, with an arm wrapped around your torso and another hand holding your shoulder. You blinked as your back collided into the Doctor chest, as he steadied you upright.

He was holding you.

Oh.

You stood there for a moment, letting yourself be held. He felt secure, he felt safe. You felt heat crawl up your neck, and you weren’t sure if it was because of embarrassment of if it was because of, well, because.

The Doctor cleared his throat abruptly, and took a step away from you. It was immediately colder without his arms around you, you had forgotten that it was a chilly night.

You hid your face away, trying to get your flush under control, so you didn’t notice that the Doctor was doing the exact same.

“Bill,” he said suddenly, and you turned to face him. He was wringing his hands together awkwardly. “She just, she’s…”

You clicked on to what he was talking about, what he was trying to say. “Had a really shitty day and so you wanted to make it just a little bit better?” You suggested.

He gave you an appreciative nod. “Yes that, exactly.”

You gestured towards the path. “I’ll actually look at where I’m going now,” you laughed lightly.

The Doctor waved his hand towards you, suggesting you lead.

You screwed up your face. “Doctor, I don’t know where I’m going.”

“Oh,” he blinked, as if just realising that you were literally reliant on his direction. “Well then, let’s get candy floss.”

~*~

The pair of you meandered back to the TARDIS, each holding a tray of two cones each. You walked in comfortable silence. Occasionally he’d point out things to you; he explained why the grass was actually leaves, how the people had invented a cord to use instead of a phone, hell, he even discussed gender studies here.

It was really nice, you loved spending time with him

The Doctor snapped his fingers to open the door, since he couldn’t really balance a key and the tray, then, as he crossed the threshold, he stopped abruptly, and you skidded to a halt. You were not going to spill these candy floss cones.

He scanned the TARDIS console, even though there wasn’t any indication that anything was of the ordinary, at least, as far as you were concerned.

Bill and Nardole were sitting on two of the small chairs on the upper level by one of the bookshelves.Nardole had a book in his lap, and Bill had been sitting with her legs over the arm of the chair. When she saw you, she flung her legs into the air, twisting her body so she could sit up. “You’re back!”

“You moved,” The Doctor said.

Bill frowned. “You weren’t actually serious about that?”

You rolled your eyes, side stepping the Doctor and holding up the tray. “You guys want candy floss?”

Bill grinned, running down the stairs. “Oh hell yes, the day’s saved.”

Nardole stuck his head up from where his nose had been in his book. He gave you a wry grin. “Did you two have a nice time?”

You ignored him, passing Bill a cone of candy floss. When her hand wrapped around the cone, the candy floss changed colours, running through green, pink, blue, and orange.

“If you want candy floss,” you told him. “You need to come down from there.”

“Oh alright,” Nardole huffed. “I was only curious.”

You hummed noncommittally, and threw the tray into the recycle bin, which you had set up once you had learned of the exorbitant amount of chip boxes Bill and the Doctor managed to go through.

Nardole came up down the stairs and wagged his eyebrows at you. You rolled your eyes in response and passed him his cone, watching in temporary awe as the candy floss changed from orange, purple, and then to pink.

“Oh come on,” Nardole groaned. “How come mine went a normal colour.”

“Pink is actually quite rare here,” the Doctor said, passing you your cone. “The locals would be jealous.”

Your fingers brushed against the Doctors as you took your cone from him, a jolt of electricity sparking up your arm. You locked eyes with the Doctor, and he was looking at you in shock, like he’d felt the same thing.

There was an awkward silence.

“You need to stop dragging your feet as you walk,” you said, even though the Doctor most certainly did not drag his feet when he walks. “Creates all sorts of static electricity.”

“Yes,” The Doctor said. “I must get on top of that.”

He took his hand back. You ignored the twinge of loss you felt.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Bill and Nardole give each other a look. You elected to ignore that too.

You took a bite into the candy flood and your mouth exploded in flavour. You couldn’t even begin to describe it, it was rich and sweet, fluffy yet dense, this absolute feat of sugar engineering.

“Oh my,” you held your cone in front of you, and watched as it rippled and changed colours, settling on a warm deep blue, the kind of blue that the TARDIS was painted in. “This is amazing.”

Bill nodded in response, humming and leaning against the railing. You joined her. “Yeah, it is. Thank you so much for this.”

“I’m sorry you had to deal with such awfulness,” you said to Bill, leaning your head on her shoulder.

“It wasn’t fun,” Bill said. “It was better once you and the Doctor were there though, I’m glad you had my back.”

You sat up so you could nudge Bill lightly. “Yeah of course! We’re your friends.”

Bill’s mouth stretched into a cheeky grin. “Nah, you two are more like my parents.”

You gawked. “Like your…” your voice trailed away as your mind caught to the implications of Bills statement. “How old do you think I am?”

The Doctor popped his head up. “I don’t think that’s supposed to be your line.”

“You can stop eavesdropping,” you scolded, turning back to Bill. “No seriously, that was a serious question.”

Bill laughed, bright and loud, and Nardole was soon laughing with her. You watched in slight hesitation as the Doctor joined in, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with them.

“You have to face it though,” Nardole said. “You’re practically the mum of the group.”

“The mum?” You shook your head. “No wait, why can’t I be the dad?”

Bill scoffed, nodding towards the Doctor. “What, you think he can be the mum?”

“I was a mum once,” the Doctor said offhandedly. “Or maybe I was a dad, I don’t remember what gender I was back then.”

You left the Doctor’s comment alone, there was a lot to unpack in that statement. You looked back to Bill. “What makes me the mum?”

“Come on,” Bill laughed. “You’ve got all the stereotypes. You fuss us but in a ‘wear your coat’ sort of way.”

“Fussy,” you said softly, your brain whirling around the word. “Fussy.”

“Which would make me the cool uncle,” Nardole announced.

“Oh,” Bill smirked at him. “So you’re cool now, aren’t you.”

The Doctor nodded towards Nardole. “He insisted on going to Woodstock, once.”

Both you and Bill cocked your head to the side, picturing Nardole at Woodstock. Huh. It fit.

Gosh, you had such a weird family, and you loved every moment of it. The candy floss was pretty good too.

But the company was better.

[moonlightchn]

𝖂𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖜𝖔𝖑𝖋 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘 𝕽𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖘 🌗

He's fucked. Oh boy, does Chris know he's fucked. Chan's tense, worked up scent is filling the car; the way he grips onto the wheel, knuckles white for the strength applied is concerning, to say the least; even the speed he's driving at is unlike him. Chris knows that as soon as he dares open his mouth, the older boy will lash out at him. And, does he deserve it? Definitely. But does he want to hear it right now? Not really. Not like he has a choice, anyway.

See, Chan arrived about an hour later at the location, a really clean and well cared for neighborhood on the next town over. You know, trimmed grass, tall trees, heated sidewalks and porch lights. That kind. The kind that gave away just so much for him to know. And Chan knew where he was. And he hated being there. But you don't turn on your pack, that's the first rule he learned back in the day. You don't turn on your pack, so he doesn't turn on Chris. Ever. Not even when he deserves it. So there they were, two wolves on hunter territory. Wonderful, right? And Chris... He was just waiting on the sidewalk, ass on the floor and cigarette in hand, just casually sitting as if he wasn't surrounded by potential threats. As if he wasn't risking his life. Their lives.

"What happened." The blonde asks, eyes on the road as he focuses on staying on the right lane. The question is sudden, taking the black wolf by surprise. Chris certainly didn't expect Chan to talk first, or sound so calm. He clears his throat slightly, hand playing with his rings as he looks out the window, humming.

"I couldn't. I..." Sighing, Chris head lowers, what happened, uh? "They have families... They... They have families now. Kids, partners... I couldn't. Couldn't take from them what they took from me. Couldn't bring myself to" Couldn't? Or didn't want to? What was stopping him anyway, right? He was already there, came all the way. "I wouldn't have been able to. It didn'tfeel right. It was... Was not what I wanted... Y'know?" What would little Hannah and Lucas think of him if he had done it?

"Did they see you?" Its simple questions. Simple questions that he can't reply. Did they see him? Hell if he knows. Was he careful? As much as if wearing five maracas on his neck. Will they come after him? That was always a possibility anyway, wasn't it? The eldest sighs at the silence, head shaking and eyes not even looking for Chris once. "You worried a lot of people. Did not just put yourself on the line but everyone else too. Do you understand that? Could've gotten me killed for making me come here- Do not interrupt me." The black wolf looks away again, mouth closing and eyes focusing on the road. The blonde is right, anyway. What was he going to say? No?

"You keep doing the same bullshit, man. Over and over and over again. Do you not get it? Do you really not understand? Don't see how much we care for you? How much you mean? You think I would've come all the way here for you otherwise? You keep giving people hopes, you keep promising things, promising change, painting yourself a victim everyone has to love and understand and put up with and accept the way it is! That's not how it works, Christopher! You keep saying you're trying but you're not even doing the bare minimum!" The car stops abruptly, both boys bouncing slightly on their seats and Chan lays back a little, hands rubbing his face. He's frustrated, tired, mad. Worried. He is, overall, worried. And Chris can feel it. He can smell it. He can see it.

"I know. And I'm sorry. I know I haven't been the best... It's... It's just not easy. I want to be better but... What's the point? What do I have left? I keep thinking... I keep thinking maybe I should just go away. Disappear, y'know? Grab my stuff and let people move on, live their lives. I'm dead weight anyway, I just c-"

"Shut up!" Its not a scream, really. Not like the ones before, at least. This one is filled with pain, and hurt, and anger. The golden wolf shifts on his seat, hand reaching to grab onto the others face, forcing him to look him in the eyes. "You don't get to do this! You dont get to victimize yourself with me and pity yourself. How many times do I need to go over this with you? I did not, and I repeat, I did NOT take you in for you to give up. You are NOT giving up. Do you hear me? You don't get to turn your back on me, on Channie, on Changbin and Irene and Jongho and Felix and Chungha and everyone who ever dared to give at least a cent for you. You don't have the right to walk away." Chan lets go, the other wolf's head slightly turning at the force as his eyes wander down, anywhere else but the boy in front of him. "So pull yourself together and find a reason. A motive. Whatever the fuck you need. This bullshit of yours ends here."

Not a single word is spoken after that, the remaining of the ride being spent in silence, the quietness of the night and the awkward tensions sitting in the backseat the only company for the boys. At home, that's what Chan calls it, home, awaits Channie with three cups of tea. At a night club on the other side of the city awaits a concerned black haired woman. Close to the suburbs awaits a short boy a new mixtape. At a shelter downtown awaits a cheetah hybrid, on the carnival at the other end a freckled boy...

Pull himself together. That's what he needs to do. For them and himself. No more running, right? No more hiding. He doesn't need revenge, or violence. He doesn't need to hold onto his past. Pull himself together and let go.

It's not going to be easy, but what would he lose trying to get there?

Taggies uwu (ask for +/- -> general taglist)

❤@babie-chungha @blackdragons-cb @galaxy-ateez @cb-museclub @hybrid-ateez-straykids-nct @yandere-eunwoo @carnival-skteez

💜@shin-haneul @babie-sanie @illuminated-skz @ares-bc @bunny-woong

💙@song-mingi-cb @mafiaxnct127 @starsirah-oc @bloodlustbots

💚@mafia-chae @skz-cb @madmanwoodam @vampiremomo @fairy-yeji @deadly-skz-gods-cb @four-straykids-apocalypse @betrayerjongup @vitoria-oc @powerpuff-3ye-cb @urhexgirls @wolfyjulia

[mourntheantagonist]

Billy Hargrove’s Exploration of Beauty

| part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 |

Part 6: Split Ends

also on ao3

***

It all happened so fast. Like he blinked his eyes and he went from behind an ice cream counter to a hundred feet below ground level. Tied up to a chair in front of his coworker who he had barely even known. Who he was beginning to like. And despite being told after the fact that whole days had passed, his little vacation didn’t feel so long. Having been blacked out and drugged out of his mind for the most of it. It was quick to be over with. Could have almost have been excused as a fever dream.

The events following his escape went by fast too. Coming up to the main floor only to find out that they might have just been safer underground. Hearing news of the mind flayer being back just went in one ear out the other.

Finding out Billy was among the flayed. That stuck. But he hid the fear. Suppressed it. Because they didn’t have the time to dwell on that.

Driving up to Cerebro felt quick. Considering he drove like a bat out of hell, that wasn’t that hard to believe.

Slamming into the side of the Camaro. He had his eyes closed for that one. But it went by fast. It had to. “It’s not Billy” he had chanted in his mind.

Everything was quickly paced. Moving from one thing to another swiftly. Nothing felt like it had dragged on.

Until he was up on that balcony.

And he watched as the mindflayer skewered his boyfriend through the chest. It was all slow motion. Felt like watching a movie that would never end. Watching as it went in and out. Tearing flesh and breaking bone. Collapsing to the floor with a loud thud that echoed throughout the mall. Lying there motionless. Bleeding out onto the disgusting mall tile. Dying. He was dying.

He’d later hear from Robin that when he was up on that balcony she had to hold him back from jumping over the ledge. Kicking and screaming. “I have to get to him!”

Everything following that moment felt like slow motion. Agonizing slow motion.

Driving to the hospital that held Billy. Max in the passenger seat. It was silent. And they must have hit every red light on the way.

The trip up the elevator to the floor he was on. Unbearably slow.

The line they stood in to speak to the front desk. Unbearably long.

The wait until they were ready for them to come back. It felt like forever.

And just as he was ready to pass through the glass doors into the hall of the ICU, there was a hand on his chest. A nurse of about five-foot-five looking to be in her mid-to-late forties had stopped him. “Family members only at this time.” She’d said. He wanted to yell at her. Say he’s the closest thing Billy has to family. But he kept his mouth shut. Bowed his head and ushered Max along, despite her protests.

“Go see your brother, Max. I’ll be okay.”

But he wouldn’t. Steve wouldn’t see Billy for the first time for over a month. The longest month of his life.

Months spent with Billy beginning to fade away in this never ending cycle of being alone. Waking up everyday to an empty bed. Not even being able to make a phone call just to hear his voice. Being without him in every way. Not hearing his laugh or seeing his smile or just feeling his skin against his. He tried to hold on to all of those good memories. But they were slipping away.

It all went downhill when Max had called him from the ICU. It was two in the morning and she was there with Chief Hopper, despite knowing she shouldn’t be. Steve hid his anger around Hopper, trying his best not to hate him. Because he got special privileges and Steve didn’t. It was two in the morning and he was sitting in his living room watching a random movie, curled up in a blanket and hugging a pillow. He hadn’t been sleeping very well. The left side of his bed cold and vacant.

Max didn’t usually call this late. The ringing of the phone startled him and made his heart race. Because something must be wrong.

“Steve?” Max’s voice came over the line.

“Is something wrong?” He had to get straight to the point.

The pause felt like forever. His breath caught in his throat, hands trembling waiting for her to say something.

“They want to cut his hair.”

June 10th, 1985

“I think I want to grow out my hair.”

Billy says it to him that day while curled up in his bed. Steve’s fingers tenderly combing through his curly blonde locks. It’s soft. Void of any hairspray and all natural in its full curly glory. Smell of cheap drugstore shampoo. Slightly minty.

“Grow it out? It’s already long.” Steve says. He’s not wrong. Billy’s hair is already shoulder length and that’s with his naturally tight curls. Wet and brushed out it’s even longer. About to his collar bones.

“I know that. But I’d like for it to be longer. Is that okay?”

“Are you asking for my permission? Because you know you don’t have to do that.”

“I know. Just wanted to know what you thought.”

“More hair to grab onto? Doesn’t sound all that bad to me.”

Billy laughs and leans into Steve.

Billy had been getting better about voicing his feelings about things. Finding it easier to settle into himself in the company of Steve. Gaining a trust that Steve wouldn’t look at him like others would have if they had seen a boy take pleasure in a feminine aesthetic. Painted nails and soft makeup and even sexy lingerie when the mood was just right. Things he’d never allow leave the walls of Steve’s house, but had been able to set free when he was inside.

“Can I ask what made you want to do this?”

“Max braided my hair last night, but it’s too short on top so it was all sticking out.” Steve couldn’t see the smile peek onto Billy’s face or the rosy tint on his cheeks. “But I liked it.”

Max and Dustin had come to learn about the two of them. About not only their relationship but about Billy. About the little things he does to feel beautiful. Billy wasn’t as open with the two of them as he was with Steve. But they were nice about it. Supportive like Steve was. Billy would say it was nice having someone else in on the secret. Even if it scared him shitless having even just Steve in the know.

“Good. I bet you look amazing with your hair braided.”

“Do you know how?” Billy seems timid in the way he asks. But not like he used to be. His voice is consistent in tone and there is an ounce of confidence there.

Steve’s in the middle of wrapping a curl around his finger until he reaches Billy’s scalp. “A little. I used to braid Carol’s when we were little. Not sure how good I am now.”

“Do you want to try?” Same voice as before. Hopeful tinge to it that makes Steve smile.

“Go get me a brush.”

- : -

Steve barely listens to the rest of the call. He’s already getting ready to leave for the hospital before he even hangs up the phone. Barely bothering to make himself presentable. Going out to his car wearing a pair of pajama pants and one of his father’s college sweatshirts.

Max had told him to come. So he was already out the door. Letting himself imagine what Billy might look like now. It’s been over a month so he surely looks a lot different from when he last saw him. Hopefully he looks much different considering the last time he saw him he was drenched in his own blood with a hole in his chest. Max had taken pictures of Billy at the hospital, but he couldn’t bear to look at them. He needed to actually be there the first time he saw Billy, or he might completely lose his mind. If he hasn’t already.

The hospital is a full forty minute drive outside of Hawkins. But it’s two in the morning and the roads are almost entirely empty. So he floors it. Driving fifteen over the whole trip. Releasing all of the anxiety and anticipation into the weight of his foot to increase his speed.

He’s driving like he’s heading there to say goodbye. Like he’s getting ready to say his last words to the dying man in the hospital bed. Tell anyone else he’s driving this recklessly over a potential haircut they’d think he’d be being dramatic. To put it mildly.

But it was more than just hair. Billy’s hair meant something more than just the evolutionary purpose of keeping your head warm.

Losing his hair would be like losing a limb. It was a part of him. So much of his identity contained within each strand of dirty blonde. The one thing he had control over. The one thing Neil never bothered to touch. Hair he had been growing out for the better part of five years having only recently begun trimming it, and even more recently begun growing it out again. The bulk of the hair on his head was the same exact hair that had been with him through all of it. Through every beating. Through every milestone. Always there sitting on his shoulders.

It was the thing that brought him comfort in knowing it was his. That it would always be there. It was like his coat of armor. It was like a shield. Something he always used to hide behind. Something that protected him. Something that made stepping out into the world just a little bit bearable.

But then with Steve he didn’t use it to hide behind. When he was with Steve he let it fall. He let it soften and lose the stiffness brought upon by too much hairspray. He let Steve comb his fingers through it. Touch the very thing that gave him a glimpse of comfort. Because Steve did too. Steve’s gentle and caring hands combing through tangles while they lay together in bed. The same hands braiding his hair while they sat in front of the TV. Billy on the floor with his back to the couch. Sitting in between Steve’s legs as he tries to incorporate the shorter strands at the front of his head into the cascade of woven hair. Slicking it down with water and hairspray only for the short strands to sprout up only after only a couple of minutes. Billy never did get his perfect braid.

They want to take it off. They want to take it all off. Even though it’s not necessary. They wanted to take away the one thing Billy had left after everything. After it was all taken away from him. Steve had already destroyed the Camaro. The only thing he’d be walking out of the mall with would be that fucking hair and thankfully his beating heart.

And he would have Steve. He would always have Steve.

If he still wanted him when he woke up.

Steve passed the “Leaving Hawkins” sign at a whopping seventy miles per hour. Paying no mind to potential police surveying the road. Wasting no time at all.

June 20th, 1985

Billy’s wearing a scrunchie in his hair when he comes to Steve’s house after his shift. His hair is still drying from the pool water but is still so bouncy and shiny in the evening sunlight, and the little blue scrunchie in his hair makes him melt. The way the pink and orange hues of a perfect sunset warm the color of each strand. The ways his ears are fully exposed, his earring dangling and perfectly reflecting the light. The way the little strands at the front of his head fall into his eyes. The way it’s so messy yet so elegant at the same time. His heart soars. He looks beautiful.

Steve tells him that. With a kiss on the lips before he walks through the front door.

“Where’s the scrunchie from?” Steve asks.

“Stole it out of Heather’s locker.”

Steve gave Billy a fake shocked expression. “My boyfriend? A thief? It can’t be.”

Billy walks past Steve and into the house. “Relax, I swear there’s like fifty of them in there. She won’t even notice.” He takes a seat on the right side of the couch, like he always did.

Steve sits beside him, leaning his entire body up against Billy and burying his head into the crook of his neck. Billy still strongly smells of chlorine and he used to hate that smell until it became a signal that Billy was around. Suddenly it had become one of his favorite scents.

“Well it looks like we’re just going to have to get you some of your own doesn’t it?” Steve starts twirling his finger around one of the loose strands at the front of his face. “It looks real pretty.”

Pretty.

That was a newer word for them. Dropping the ‘boy’ at the end because it didn’t feel necessary anymore. Sometimes even made him feel a little like he was implying that boys couldn’t be pretty, needing to add the specification. Billy was becoming far more comfortable with himself and embracing it all. Beginning to believe that men could be pretty and that didn’t have to detract from anything.

So Steve called him pretty. He called him beautiful and gorgeous and stunning because he was. Because Billy deserved to hear it. And because it made him happy.

“Showers weren’t working at the pool. Need to wash the chlorine out. You gonna join me?”

“Oh absolutely.”

- : -

The trip through the hospital gives Steve flashbacks. Flashbacks to the night him and Max anxiously made the trek to the hospital wing Billy was in. Every moment he was currently experiencing felt like the memory. Sweaty palms gripping the handles in the elevator while the cage slowly moves up to the fifth floor. Shoulders hunched, leaning all his weight onto the bar as he curses each time the elevator stops. Foot tapping in anxiety as he waits and waits and waits until finally the doors slide open onto the fifth floor.

Steve ignores the lineup of people at the front desk and heads towards the glass door through which he can see Hopper. He wasn’t going to wait anymore. Fully prepared to bypass the stout man they had guarding the door.

Two hands come in contact flat against his chest as he gets within a foot of the door. So close to grabbing the handle. Steve leans all his weight against the man. Straight faced like a man on a mission.

“Let me through.”

Steve knows how he looks. Adorning comfortable clothes looking completely disheveled. Hair a mess, sweat forming on his brow, practically foaming at the mouth as he attempts to push his way past. His voice determined as he repeats himself.

“I can’t allow that sir. You do not have permission.”

The man just stands his ground. Hands still flat against Steve’s chest, applying very little pressure, but enough to prevent Steve from storming through.

“Let me through.” It’s louder this time. Enough to where he’s beginning to cause a scene in the middle of the waiting area. Staff and the rest all turning their heads towards the disarranged man on the verge of a public tantrum. He looks all kinds of mad, like he belongs in a padded room, restrained and straight-jacketed. He repeats himself over and over again until his voice starts to break. The man is not budging, and Steve doesn’t have the strength.

Then there’s a strong hand grabbing his bicep. Steve’s haze still recognizes it as belonging to a separate party.

“Let the kid in. He’s with me.” It’s Hopper’s distinct voice that breaks him from the daze. The man blocking his way moves to the left and removes his hands from his chest, nearly causing him to fall forward.

Hopper guides Steve through the glass doors. This is the furthest he’s made it. He can feel Billy’s presence just right around the corner. He’s not sure if that’s just because he can hear Max’s voice echoing through the halls as she argues loudly with the nurses on call.

“Good thing you’re here. Max has been guarding Billy for an hour. It’s just hair. I don’t know what the issue is.”

Steve just looks at Hopper, completely stone cold.

“It’s not just hair.”

He storms past him and into the room where Max is standing in front of Billy’s bed with her arms outstretched while two nurses try to reason with her. Steve stalls when he finally looks past Max and gets a glimpse of Billy.

He’s pale, but still tanner than Steve. He has more stubble than he would have liked but it’s still trimmed. The mask over his mouth and nose block his view slightly. His eyes are closed and he looks very peaceful.

And his hair is longer. A lot longer.

Splayed across the white pillow underneath him, his tight waves look to be at the very least an inch longer than the last time he’d seen him. Bangs falling into his face extending all the way down to the tip of his nose. It looks soft. Shiny like satin under the hospital fluorescent. He looks heavenly and angelic and that freaks Steve out.

Heavenly and angelic.

Asleep. Dead to the world. Dead.

Except he wasn’t dead. The crests and troughs of the heart monitor proving such to be true. But it felt too close. Like it was right around the corner and he had to be careful not to alert death to their location.

Steve walked past the shouting fourteen year old without a word and approached Billy’s bedside. Upon closer inspection he notices how Billy’s body has frailed. Previously cut muscles, now soft and smooth. Yet he didn’t look sickly. He was still looking more built than Steve, even. Steve moves a fallen hair from out of his eyes, like it was blocking his vision out of his closed lids. Gently tracing his finger across his hairline to behind his ear where he tucked back another strand. His skin was warm. Blood still coursing through his veins. He was definitely alive. And somehow Steve felt his presence. Knew deep down Billy was still in there.

He’s not paying attention to the screaming match taking place behind him. And they’re not paying attention to him. He’s just staring at Billy. Like he’s looking at the Mona Lisa. Behind six inches of bulletproof glass. He can’t get to him. He can’t reach him. But he’s there. He can see him. And god he’s as beautiful as ever.

It’s not the ear piercing screams from an enraged teenage girl or the annoyed combativeness from the two young nurses that separates his attention from Billy. It’s a strong hand on his shoulder that somehow both gently and forcefully pulls him back.

“Alright everyone that’s enough!” Hopper doesn’t shout but his deep and full voice carries an intensity that shuts everybody up. “One at a time, please?”

“You have no right to shave his entire head! You only have to shave off a small patch for the surgery, you said it yourself!” Max is fuming. The only word that sticks in Steve’s head is surgery. He doesn’t bother asking. Not sure if knowing would make it easier to swallow.

“We actually do have the right. His father already gave us consent to do so. It’s you who doesn’t have the right kid.” Steve has to physically restrain himself. Looking back at Billy as his fists clenched and his fingernails dug crescents into his palms at the mention of Neil.

Neil having the final say over the one thing he never touched. That was something Steve had promised Billy he would protect him from. Not the hair. Protect him from Neil taking anything more from him.

“Besides, a man’s hair shouldn’t be that long anyway.”

If Steve didn’t have the self control he did, there would surely be a nurse with a broken nose. Instead he turns back to Billy again. Looking at him. Trying to pull some answers from him.

I wish you could just tell me what to do.

“When does it need to be done by?” It’s the first thing Steve’s said since he entered the room.

“His surgery is scheduled for nine this morning. So you’ve got around five hours.”

Steve hasn’t turned towards the nurses. Hasn’t turned his head away from Billy.

“Then give us five hours.”

Steve’s expression when he finally turns back to look at the two nurses is mean. Attempting to get it across that he’s not asking.

“Five hours.” They say as they nod their heads and walk out. Annoyed expressions on their faces.

“Steve you can’t let them -“

“They won’t.” Steve takes a long look at Billy. Taking a deep breath as he glances towards the scissors that sit on the medical tray. “I’m going to do it.”

Max doesn’t say anything, which is actually a good sign. An even better sign is when she finally removes herself from her guarded position at the foot of the bed to come join Steve.

He pulls down at one of the shorter strands at the front of Billy’s head. Pulled taut, the spiral reaches all the way just past his chin.

“You think it’s long enough for a braid?”

June 20th, 1985

After a very hot and heavy make out session against the shower walls, the two actually take a shower. Despite having done so many times before, showering together always feels so intimate. Standing with each other, naked and alone in a very vulnerable position,

just existing without jumping each other’s bones. It was nice. It was just more proof that what the two of them ran deep. Soaping up each other’s bodies. That was something so personal.

Steve was running his fingers through Billy’s soap covered hair. Billy’s back turned to Steve as he did it. Letting the water from the faucet rinse his front while he let Steve play with the individual strands of his hair.

Steve liked the way Billy’s hair looked when wet. Still maintaining a curl no matter how saturated in water it got. The way it darkened to a near dark brown and he could easily be mistaken for a brunette.

The shampoo smells like coconut. Stolen straight from his mothers bathroom. The fumes mixed with the steam of the hot water clearing his senses and making his breathing feel so easy.

Steve pulls at one of his curls until it’s completely straight. Careful not to pull too hard.

“It’s already getting longer, baby.”

Because his back is turned, Steve doesn’t see the wide smile appear onto Billy’s face. Because the water is falling into his face, Steve doesn’t see the tears of joy form into his eyes.

Yet Steve knows without seeing. He wraps his arms around Billy’s waist and pulls him in close. Presses kisses into the mole on the back of his shoulder.

“It’s gonna look so good.”

“You think so?”

“You bet. I’d say give it two more weeks and I can get these little suckers into a braid.”

- : -

Steve remembers saying that so vividly. Because exactly two weeks later would be the Fourth of July. The same day that Billy’s life would nearly be taken. It felt like some cruel joke.

Now Steve is sitting in a hospital bed with his comatose boyfriends sitting in between his legs as he brushes through his hair. Trying to hold it together in front of Max and Hopper.

Steve’s not entirely sure Hopper has been made aware of the true nature of his and Billy’s relationship. He figures he’s probably pieced it together by now. And he’s pretty sure he doesn’t really care if he knows or not. He’s too focused on Billy. Focused on the man in between his legs. Focused on making him look as beautiful as he can while his hair is still on his head. Trying not to focus that it’s going to be his hands that will cut it off. Because it has to be his hands. Or else it’ll end up inadvertently being Neil’s hands.

And he wouldn’t let that happen.

Max hasn’t said much since he’d arrived. He can tell she feels guilty that Steve had been blocked from seeing Billy for so long. Especially considering how easy it was to get him past those doors. She’s just sitting in the chair at his bedside holding Billy’s hand. He is angry. But not at Max. He’s not really angry at anyone one particular person. He’s angry at the entire situation they’re in and he doesn’t know how to express that anger to Max without screaming. So he keeps his mouth shut and gently brushes the tangles out of Billy’s hair.

“I’m going to head downstairs for some food. Do you want me to bring anything up for you two?” Hopper says. He too has been mostly silent. Clearly pretty confused about the situation.

Max’s eyes lit up. “My bag. It’s in your car. Can you grab it?”

“Sure thing kiddo. You Steve?”

“A cup of coffee would be nice.”

Hopper tousled his and Max’s hair. “You got it. I’ll be back in a bit. Please for the love of God don’t yell at anymore nurses. They’re just doing their job.”

Hopper leaves the two of them and Steve finally begins braiding Billy’s hair. Combing his hair front to back before taking three small strands and began attempting a French braid.

“What’s in the bag?” He asks.

Max smiles. Looking down at Billy’s bare fingernails. “My Polaroid. Thought maybe he might like to have some pictures.”

“I think he’d like that.” Steve’s looking down at Billy’s hand in Max’s. “You have any nail polish in there?”

“I think so.”

“That’s good, maybe we can paint them.” Steve’s being extremely focused on braiding. Making sure it’s clean and precise and making sure no strand is sticking out. And it’s going a lot better than usual. Only needing to slick down a couple stray pieces. All while carefully pressing kisses to the top of his head as he makes his way down the length of his hair. Down his neck until he’s reached the end where he finally ties it off with a hair tie off of Max’s wrist.

“How’s it look?” Steve asks.

“He looks pretty.”

Steve can’t help it anymore. Can’t hold back the stream of tears that have been bottled up and threatening to overflow since he got the call. The tears squeeze through tightly closed eyelids and roll down his cheeks as he just buries his face into Billy’s braided hair.

“He does. Doesn’t he?” Steve gently wraps his arms around Billy’s chest, careful around the dressing over his scar. Fully taking in for the first time that Billy is still here. For the past month Billy’s being alive was just simply something he was told. Never something he got to see. Now he does see it. Now he sees it and he feels the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. Feels his heart beat against his chest. He’s right there and he was going to be okay.

He had to be okay. That was the only way Steve would be okay too.

“I’m sorry.” Max apologizes. He knows why she says it. He doesn’t need clarification.

“It’s not your fault.”

Max gives Steve a half smile and uses her free hand to squeeze his shoulder.

“I don’t want to cut his hair.” Steve takes in a deep breath. “But I know it has to be me.”

“I could do it.”

Steve shakes his head at her. “No. I made a promise. It can’t be anyone else.”

“Well I’ll be here with you if it helps.”

“Thanks.”

“Thank you for loving my brother.”

They sit there for a while in just complete silence save for the muffled chatter from outside the walls and the occasional beeping from one of the many machines Billy had been wired up to. Hopper only arrives around ten minutes later with two coffees in hand and a red Jansport on his shoulder. He hands Steve his cup and Max her backpack and takes a seat in the other chair that’s near the door.

“You two alright?” Hopper asks. He probably noticed Steve’s tear stained cheeks and the somber atmosphere of the room he walked into.

The two of them nod. Steve goes in to begin nursing the hot cup of coffee and Max begins to sift through her bag. Pulling out her camera case and two small glass bottles.

“I have red and orange.”

“Billy hates orange Max! You know this!” Steve laughs.

“I know that. Was just messing with you.” She tosses the bottle of red nail polish over to Steve. “You paint, I’ll take pictures.”

Max takes a few shots while Steve coats Billy’s nails in a shiny bright red varnish. Still in the same position of Billy sitting in between Steve’s legs with a pillow on his chest for Billy to lay back on. He brings a coated hand to his lips to gently blow dry. All the while Max is snapping candid photos of the two, passing each piece of film over to Hopper for him to put into his shirt pocket to allow it to develop.

“You guys want one of all three of you?” Hopper asks. He’s been mostly silent the whole time. Nursing his own coffee while he watched Max prance around the room with her camera.

“That would be great.” Max says, handing the camera over to Hopper before she makes her way over to the bedside. Leaning into the frame. Steve pulls Billy’s braid forward so that it’s now draped over his shoulder and visible. Intertwining his fingers with Billy’s now dry and red coated ones. He smiles as the flash temporarily blinds him.

They take as many more photos as they can until Max has run out of film. Hours pass and the hour hand is approaching eight o’clock. Meaning it’s about time.

About time to say goodbye.

The process begins slowly. Undoing the braid being the first step. Undoing the thing Billy really wanted to see for himself. The thing he’ll only get to experience in pictures. It hurt to pull the elastic from his hair and run his fingers through the perfectly woven strands.

The next part was securing it all back up into a ponytail at the top of his head. That way all Steve would have to do was make one single cut and be done with it. Allow the nurses to shave off the rest.

He knew it was going to be hard. But he didn’t anticipate it being this hard. Now holding an open pair of scissors above Billy’s head. All of his hair in between the blades. All he had to do was close his fingers together and it would begin. But he was stuck. Hands frozen still as he began to sob into Billy’s hair as Max and Hopper silently watched him. Max’s hand on his thigh and Hopper’s on his shoulder.

He couldn’t stop imagining Billy having to wake up like this. Wake up to the knowledge that his hair was gone at the hands of Steve. Wondering if maybe this would hurt him more than someone else doing it. He had to remember he made a promise. Even if it meant that Billy may wake up and hate him.

Steve’s fingers finally close the blades together and he can hear the sharp sound of cutting hair.

He made a promise.

September 19th, 1985: One Month Later

Billy’s awake.

Billy’s awake and Steve is there holding his hand as he does. It wasn’t planned, somehow fate just decided to work out in their favor.

Billy takes a while to come to. Nearly an hour before he truly recognizes who he is and where he is and who Steve is. Steve just sits there patiently while he does. Repeating over and over again that he’s in the hospital. That he’s okay. That “Steve’s here.”

Billy’s hair is short and curly now. A lighter blonde than before. It looks really good on him and he just hopes Billy is able to agree.

“Steve?” Is the first thing Billy says and Steve’s heart melts at the sound of Billy’s groggy voice.

“Yeah baby. It’s me. I’m right here.” Steve pulls Billy’s hand to his mouth and begins kissing his knuckles. Showing Billy his own painted fingernails. Maybe that will help serve as a comfort for him. “Welcome back.”

“How long?”

“Almost three months.”

Billy just nods. Then slowly moves a free hand up to scratch at his head and Steve’s heart stops. He thought he’d have more time.

His heart shatters when Billy’s hand makes contact and his half lidded eyes turn wide.

“My hair is gone.” He says before turning over to see Steve is crying.

“I’m sorry. I had to cut it. I'm so sorry.” Steve’s voice is broken and Billy takes a minute to finally register the situation. Spending about a minute pulling at the short curls in his hair before squeezing Steve’s hand with all of the strength he has. Which isn’t much.

“It’s okay.” He whispers. Pushing down his own sadness and grief over it to reassure Steve that he’s not mad at him. He couldn’t be mad at him. It hurt. It hurt to know that his hair had been taken from him. But he also knows Steve didn’t do it to hurt him. “It’s gonna grow back.” He’s not sure if he’s saying that to Steve or to himself.

Steve sniffles and apologizes again. And again. And again.

“Steve I’m too weak to kiss you so you better get down here and kiss me or I’ll fucking scream.”

Steve does as he’s told. Nose full of snot and cheek coated in tears but he does it anyway. And Billy tastes like coming home. Everything about right now feels so unreal and he just has to savor the moment before he wakes up from whatever dream reality he must be trapped in.

But he doesn’t wake up from any dream because there is no dream. Billy’s alive. Billy’s awake. And Billy is kissing him.

Things were going to be okay. He was certain of that now.

And so was Billy when Steve finally showed him the little Polaroid of him in his perfect braid. Held by Steve. Looking beautiful with his long hair. The hair will grow back. With new memories, better memories, attached to each inch.

Things were going to be okay.

next part

[winterrose527]

have you done an Ella - museum curator, Robb - investor on a tour work??

Ummmm no I had not! And wow was this one cathartic to write. It came out way longer than expected because this is a subject near and dear to my heart...

Thank you for this prompt!!

***

She was so sick of this shit.

Over a year of it. Ever since the governor’s order in April 2020. Back then she’d almost believed it was just a blip, a couple of weeks. A vacation, almost.

But then the ban on gatherings. The shutdowns. Finally the masks.

Every museum in the country had shut its doors along with libraries, movie theaters, and every other place desperate parents could take their children on a rainy Saturday.

Theirs had been luckier than most. An endowment a few years prior, which had been earmarked but not mandated for an expansion had been used to keep the lights on and the staff fed - literally. Their programming had gone virtual and understandably attendance had dropped but not entirely – thanks to a few local artists that had generously donated their time for a last minute plug.

Ever since restrictions had lifted, the crowds had returned somewhat. A rainy spring and summer had helped, but they were nowhere near their ‘pre-pandemic’ levels (and with the Delta variant on the rise she wasn’t super comfortable with the term ‘post-pandemic’ to describe their current state of affairs).

She wouldn’t say that today though.

No, today everything would be rosy – not just the botanical gardens that abutted the museum and had been started in 1853 – no, 1854.

Not that she imagined the potential donor would be fact checking her but nevertheless there was no room for error. She needed to represent the museum well. Her colleagues were counting on her – not to mention the collection itself depended on her.

The board had decided at its most recent meeting if they didn’t get an influx of donations within this quarter they were going to sell off a few pieces from the collection.

There was nothing sadder to a museum than deaccessioning. The staff all loved and protected the collection, and they truly felt the impact they and it had on the community. Myrcella loved to walk through the galleries on Thursday afternoons to see the regulars who’d come to visit the paintings like old friends of theirs, stopping by to say hello to a Baroque oil here or an Impressionist watercolor there.

So if schmoozing yet another prospective donor was what it took to mean that Mr. Poole’s favorite still-life stayed put for his bi-weekly Wednesday morning visit, then she would schmooze. She would schmooze Sansa Stark like her life depended on it.

She knew Sansa Stark sort of. It was the sort of thing where pre-pandemic they had run into each other at half a dozen events every year and always had a lovely chat and discussed getting together and then never did. The North was a small world and they ran in similar circles. But they weren’t friends.

Still, she was her best bet. From the wealthiest and most philanthropic family in the North, of course she was.

And she had to deliver.

The board had all made it clear that they expected results, and it had been suggested that really Myrcella Baratheon shouldn’t have such a hard time finding donors. But all her usual suspects had come to her with their own sob stories full of please tell me you won’t shut your doors but without any promise of relief, and the people she knew down south – the sort that profited from the world being in such dire straits had no interest in a little regional museum. No matter how much she marketed it as a hidden jewel.

To them, there was little worth in a jewel hidden, and they had no interest in having their act of charity buried under the northern snows.

So Sansa Stark was it.

She smoothed her dress, chosen carefully for the occasion. Sansa was always impeccably dressed and favored ladylike, tailored dresses for daytime, just as Myrcella did. Today, which had turned out to be a gorgeous one, she’d chosen a pale blue scallop trim knit dress, her grandmother’s wristwatch her only accessory. Feminine but appropriate. More comfortable than the clingier dresses she only ever so occasionally wore when taking around a male potential benefactor.

“Good luck,” Gilly, their glum registrar said as she raised her wrist to her nose to make sure she could still smell the scented oil she’d spread there that morning.

“Thanks baby,” Myrcella sighed, “Lunch from that naughty salad place when I’m done? My treat?”

Gilly smiled at that, “My treat if you get her.”

“Oh, now the stakes are really high,” she teased and blew Gilly a kiss and walked through the halls.

She felt eyes on her as she went. It was a small, tight-knit team, and it made it all the harder every time she received a sheepish regret. If she couldn’t succeed, one of them might lose their job if the board couldn’t decide what to sell. Even if they could, depending on how long this lasted.

Game face, Baratheon.

She took a deep breath and then smiled for fifteen seconds. She let it drop, knowing that it would still be in her eyes when she walked outside and it felt a little more genuine when her heels clacked along the gorgeous marble floor.

Walking over to the security desk, the smile reappeared on her face.

“Morning Roddy,” she grinned.

“Good morning to you Miss Myrcella,” Rodrick greeted her, “You see the game last night?”

“You’ve known me for four years,” she noted, “When in all of that time have I ever seen the game?”

He chuckled, “There was that one time in 2018.”

“Oh no, I totally lied about that,” she assured him, shrugging, “I wanted you to think I was cool.” She then looked around the empty lobby, “No Miss Stark?”

He grimaced, “Not yet. Traffic is back though, folks still aren’t used to it.”

She nodded, picking at a non-existent thread on her dress and looked around. Her eyes narrowed in on something and she crossed the lobby and picked up a tiny scrap of paper, crumbling it in her hand and then walking back over and tossing it in the trash behind Roddy’s desk.

“I’ve been sitting here for two hours, didn’t see it,” he noted.

She smiled, “Well you’ve been doing less important things like making sure no one robs the place.”

He opened his mouth to say something to her but then his gaze was directed behind her, “I’m sorry, sir, we don’t open until 11 o’clock on Tuesdays.”

“I sort of have an appointment,” the man said.

She knew that voice. She’d heard it before. In a coat closet at Alys Karstark’s birthday party. At the next table over at a charity even in 2019. Deep, stubbornly Northern, as unyielding as Valyrian steel.

She felt her palms sweat and forced herself not to rub them on her dress, rubbing them together instead and then turning around with a bright smile.

“You’re not Sansa Stark,” she greeted him.

He grinned sheepishly, though she wasn’t sure this man had ever had occasion to be sheepish in his entire life, “Afraid not. Myrcella, right? We met at that thing – that um… save the…whatsits.”

She giggled, and she heard the sound echoing garishly on the marble, “I believe that evening we were saving the seals. Or the… tulips, maybe.”

His smile spread slowly across his face, a dimple marking its end like an exclamation point, “Well we did our part even if we can’t remember what it was, I’m Robb Stark.”

She liked that he introduced himself. He’d done so every time they’d met, as though he in no way expected her to remember him. Sansa had done it the first five or so. Must have been how they were raised.

On the other hand, she’d been raised to act as though someone was foolish for not knowing who she was, introducing herself had been something she’d had to learn when she moved north, like parallel parking and salting her stoop.

Her hand extended and his met it, taking hers in his larger one and shaking it firmly as he looked her in the eyes briefly and then her lips slightly longer before purposefully going back to her eyes, “Myrcella Baratheon, and I remember you, Mr. Stark.”

“Well if that were true you’d remember I prefer Robb,” he noted, releasing her hand.

She shrugged, leaning forward conspiratorially, “Old habits. Can I get you something to drink before we begin our tour?”

“No thank you, I’m fine,” he shook his head.

She nodded, “Well it’s beautiful out now, why don’t we start in the botanical gardens. There’s been a bumper crop this year, we recently had the Cerwyn wedding here, did you attend?”

He fell into step next to her and said, “No, I didn’t. I was meant to but they reduced it to just family.”

She nodded, “Right, seems to be happening quite a bit. Will you do the same for your wedding?”

He stopped walking briefly and before she could stop too he had started again, “No… uh, rather than reduce the guest list we decided not to have it at all. We called the engagement off in January.”

“I’m so sorry!” she internally stabbed herself in the throat, “I didn’t know.”

He shrugged, “The nice thing about there not being any events over the past year is that the press didn’t really get wind of it.” Then stopped abruptly, “Not that… it’s not like that makes up for the past year or anything.”

She laughed, “Don’t worry, I know what you meant. I am sorry though, about your engagement.”

“As am I,” he agreed, “But it’s for the best. We parted as friends. Had we gotten married, I’m not sure we could have done so, so I’m grateful for that, and for her.”

A gentleman.

So many men played the part. Opening doors, buying flowers. So few of them realized that manners mattered very little when they were offered without grace.

“That’s lovely,” she noted, pleased for once not to have to lie.

It was a gorgeous day, a perfect seventy-nine degrees and clear blue skies. As though they’d understood the importance of the occasion, the Phlox stood proudly in battle formation and the scent of honeysuckle surrounded them.

“Sansa wanted me to apologize for missing your meeting,” Robb noted.

“I hope nothing’s the matter?” she asked.

A grin overtook his face, “No nothing at all. She’s in labor.”

She smiled, grabbing his forearm briefly. They both looked down at her hand on it and she pulled it back as gingerly as she could.

“That’s wonderful,” she told him, “Her second, right?”

He nodded, “A girl. And I’ve convinced her out of the name Corona.”

She chuckled, “Oh come now, you could call her Corrie for short.”

“And her parents idiots for long,” he noted. Then told her, “They weren’t really going to call her Corona.”

She smiled, “And here I was about to tip off the press…”

He smirked, “Narrow miss, then.” He looked around, “So. Flowers.”

“Not just flowers,” she pointed out, “We have a community garden to the left and down that lane local beekeepers keep their hives.”

“My mistake,” he allowed with a close-lipped smile.

That smile annoyed her. It was the same one she’d heard in the voice of every southern donor she’d called when they’d offered her good luck with her little country museum.

It was the smile someone gave her when she’d already lost.

“Perhaps we should go inside,” she noted, “I can show you our contemporary wing which we’ve recently devoted to elevating female and underrepresented artists. Or perhaps that’s a bit too avant-garde for you. Would you like to see our hall of armor and weaponry? I believe we have a few pieces that your ancestors left on one battlefield or another.”

“I’m sorry,” he noted, rubbing his jaw, “I told Sansa we should just cancel this meeting but she insisted.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Stark –“

“Robb,” he corrected her.

“No, I’m addressing Mr. Stark right now,” she argued, all of the frustration and helplessness of the past few months bubbling up inside of her, “May I ask what exactly it is about this that you find amusing? Is it the painting that we’re going to have to sell so that it can end up in someone’s climate controlled storage unit and never looked at again? Or is it the leaky roof? Perhaps the pay cut we asked all senior employees to take? Or how about the summer interns who had gone through a rigorous hiring process only to be told we couldn’t take them on at all? I certainly hope it’s not the seniors who used to come here for their Saturday afternoon watercolor classes which we had to cancel because we didn’t have anything to pay the instructor even though it would have been the perfect activity for them because it is outdoors and safe. Or maybe it’s the after-school programs you find so laughable…”

“I’m not laughing,” he pointed out. “But you’ll forgive me if I take your righteousness with a grain of salt.”

“I’m not sure that I will, actually,” she argued.

“No?” he asked, “Well let’s talk about those seniors? Don’t you think that funding is better spent ensuring they have free and safe access to the vaccination that can actually save their lives? Or what about those kids? Sure, the after-school program is great, but how about providing computers to allow them to do remote learning? Now I’m sorry if you have to lose one of a thousand paintings in this place, but if money can be better spent giving people what they really need then I’m sorry – sell the damn thing.”

That was hard to argue with.

But not impossible.

“So you’ve drained your coffers?” she asked.

There was only room for one of them on the moral high ground and she’d always enjoyed the view.

His cheeks had turned blotchy in anger but they paled now, “Excuse me?”

“Are you in the red?” she asked, “Declaring bankruptcy? Let’s not go that far - Taking out loans? Leveraging assets?”

His jaw clenched, revealing a muscle in his left cheek that might have been attractive if she wasn’t about to rip his head off.

“No,” he noted, “But my family’s company and my family have given an exceptional amount this year already.”

“Well,” she pointed out, “It has been an exceptional year already.”

“Are you always this haughty with potential donors?” he asked, stepping ever so slightly closer to her.

A flash in her mind of his hand ghosting across the back of her neck as he secured her coat over her shoulders. That smell.

“Never,” she admitted, stepping ever so slightly towards him, “But you’re not a potential donor, are you? And tell me, is it really because you don’t think it’s worthwhile or because it doesn’t sound worthwhile?”

His face contorted in anger, “You think we’re giving so that people will write songs about us? We want this country back on its feet. We want to return to normal and if we can’t do that, we want to make sure to give people as comfortable an existence until it reverts on its own. Tell me, Miss Baratheon, can you actually find fault in that?”

She shook her head, “No, I can’t.” He looked surprised and she shrugged, “It’s a flawless argument. Just an incomplete one. Giving an exceptional amount right now isn’t enough. You have to give until it hurts, because you can. It is wonderful, exceptional, heroic, to be doing all that you have done so far. But what comes next? What comes after? What happens when the dust settles? When things open? When we get things under control? What happens when people are ready to return to what was before and none of it is left because it wasn’t deemed essential. Because it’s just flowers and amateur beekeepers and pretty watercolors? I understand that we are not on the top of the list and we shouldn’t be. But we should be on the list. We need to do more than survive, Robb. There are things apart from us that we need to endure. Things we need to protect.”

His mouth twitched at that.

“I’m sorry to say I don’t have time to see the armor,” he told her.

She felt the defeat trickle through her veins slowly.

She held out her hand, “Thank you for letting me rant at you.”

He shook it once again, narrowing his eyes at her, “Something tells me you’ve still got some left in the tank. I’d quite like to hear it. Have dinner with me tonight and convince me.”

It was happening to all of her girlfriends. After a year in isolation, their ability to detect a creep from a mile away had withered. She hadn’t thought that hers had too. He’d seemed like one of the good ones.

She pulled her hand away, “That’s not the way I do business, Mr. Stark.”

His eyes widened in horror, “No, that’s not what I meant. I don’t get to make these decisions.”

“You’re the CEO,” she pointed out.

“Yes I am but Sansa insisted on inserting a clause into her contract that she gets final say over any philanthropic decisions,” he sighed, “I literally am not even allowed to choose the location of a book drive.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that, a tiny bit of hope bubbling inside of her, “So when you said you should have cancelled the meeting…”

“It’s because Sansa’s already decided that we will be giving a donation, she wanted to discuss the structure of it with you – you know whether you’d prefer a lump sum, or whether you want it in increments, if you wanted it to be public to inspire other donors or whether you wanted it to be private so that they couldn’t use it as an excuse not to give…” he waved his hand, “She’s better at the specifics and I’m sure she’ll be calling you in between contractions to fine tune them.”

She laughed, “Please tell her not to. A pledge is more than enough to take to my board, we can map out the nitty gritty whenever she or whomever will be replacing her in the interim has time.”

He nodded, “You’ll have them within the week.”

She was about to thank him but the words caught in her mouth, “So wait a second… did you just wind me up for the sake of it?”

He grinned, a chuckle present in his voice though it hadn’t yet broken, “I’d like to point out that it took very little to wind you up.”

She laughed, because he was right and admitted, “It’s been a tough year.”

He nodded, “For everyone. So, now that you know I have absolutely no control and can hold absolutely nothing over you… have dinner with me.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I enjoy arguing with you,” he told her, then grinned sheepishly, “And because I lied. Sansa told me that I could cancel the meeting and I insisted on coming because I wanted to see you. The bad thing about this year is that there were no events where I could have a chance of bumping into you…”

“Oh that’s the bad thing about this year?” she asked.

“Well,” he grinned, then did a scarily good impression of her, “Maybe it shouldn’t be at the top of the list, but it should be on the list.”