#for the whole winter. what the fuck man this is a WINTER SPORT!!!!!!!!!!

[bsideheart]

WHY is swim practice cancelled again

[cherrycherrylady2024]

Christmas with the Grimes'

(Dilf! Rick Grimes x reader) Word count: 2,675

Warnings: 18+ for real. NSFW, some angst, fingering, hickeys, grinding, light choking/hair pulling? I need Rick Grimes so bad

Chapter 3: In your dreams

“So then Martian Man defeats the evil robot, except the robot was actually his half-brother the whole time, so he gets really sad at the end of issue #4. Then in #5 he-” Carl was giving you the entire lore behind his new comic book, and you put on your best listening face, while Judith tapped on her phone, having already heard this. Except you weren’t really listening whatsoever. Your mind was in a frenzy of activity. Did he see? Does he know? Who are you kidding, of course he knows. Your face was still red with embarrassment since the incident half an hour ago. If only Carl and Judith weren’t expecting you, you’d have hidden under Rick’s blanket for the rest of the day. Maybe the rest of winter break, but who’s to say?

You wanted to punch him in his stupid handsome face for making you feel like this. Either punch or kiss. Maybe both. That look Rick gave you, you couldn’t get it out of your head. It was nearly a smirk, but more subtle and prideful. Like he knew what he would catch you doing. He knew how you felt. You were petrified to see him again. “...and I haven’t read the new comic yet, but I heard it’s supposed to be pretty good! Do ya wanna borrow it when I'm done?” Carl questioned. You snapped out of your daze. “Oh! Yes, totally. Thanks,” You replied. Judith got up from Carl’s twin bed, where she lounged, “Alright Carl, it’s my turn with y/n. You read your new comic til dinner.” With the word ‘dinner’ you felt your stomach twist unpleasantly, your mind on the verge of implosion. With a whine of “Alriiight,” Carl sat down at his little desk and began poring over the pages. 

Judith led you down the opposite hallway towards her bedroom. As you followed, you passed the only other bedroom in the house. The door was slightly ajar. You heard the floorboards creak underneath him as he padded around the room. Rick was putting away laundry, sloppily folding pants and shirts, and didn’t notice your quick passing. Or at least he didn’t show it. You had lingered back just slightly, but thankfully Judith didn’t notice as you caught right back up with her. “Okay, so I’m right down the hall from you if you need anything. It’ll be weird not sharing a room, right?” she said as she entered her bedroom. “Oh yeah, super weird. What am I going to do without your snoring lulling me to sleep?” you mocked. “You know you love it,” she said, plopping on her bed. Judith's room was adorned with fading pink floral wallpaper, posters, sports trophies, books, and photos. “Anyways this is my room, it clearly hasn't been updated since 2010 but it’s still a vibe,” Judith said. You picked up a photo from her bookshelf. It appeared to be from a high school dance, as Judith wore what could only be considered the ugliest, most ruffled, unflattering dress in the world, and was holding hands with a gawky teenage boy. Both Judith and the boy awkwardly smiled for the photo, turning out more like grimaces with mouths full of braces. “It is totally still a vibe,” you said turning back to her with the picture, containing your laughter. “Fuck off!” she cried, jumping up and snatching the photo from you as you burst out in giggles, “We all make mistakes, it was sophomore year for god's sake,” she said. “I am begging you. Please bring that back to the dorms with us. Please! It can be my Christmas present” you choked out in between laughter, sitting at her desk. Judith gazed at the photo, “I can’t believe I made out with him that night” she said. “Oh god, please no” you responded in horror. “I think our braces got stuck together” she pondered. “PLEASE you’re gonna make me sick” you laughed, covering your ears. Judith snorted and placed it back on the shelf, “Hold on, you’re gonna die when you see this. I think I have it in here,” she said, as she looked hurriedly through her bookshelf. She pulled out a photo album, “Here!” she exclaimed, flipping through the pages. She landed on one and handed it to you, “Talk about bad Prom pictures.”

It was another prom photo, but it appeared to be from the late 80s/early 90s. A tall thin brunette woman grinned widely, almost painfully, at the camera, her dress clearly a hand-me-down from the mid-80s. She held awkwardly at arm's length a man who looked a year or two older. He wore a suit with a ruffle on the collar, which also screamed hand-me-downs. If it weren’t for those eyes, you wouldn't have even recognized Rick Grimes. He looked much less self-assured, maybe even nervous, and probably 10 years younger than the photo you had seen of him in the hallway. “The fucking posing gets me every time, look at my mom's face” Judith laughed. Your stomach started to hurt. “That's your mom?” you questioned. “Yeah,” Judith replied, “The whole photo album’s pictures of her. We made it right after she died as like a commemorative therapy type-thing. Flip through it,” She suggested as she began unzipping her suitcase. You turned the pages slowly. Rick was in many of the photos, but most prominently featured was Mrs. Grimes. You didn’t even know her name. Judiths mom. Ricks wife. The anxious knots in your stomach seemed to tighten more and more. “I’m gonna go lay down.” You stated, hurriedly standing, leaving the photo album on the desk. Judith looked up at you from her suitcase with a hint of concern. “I’m just – tired. I’ll let you unpack,” you added. “Okay,” Judith shrugged. You began to leave, “Oh and I think dinner’s at 7!” she mentioned. Your stomach did flips, but you gritted your teeth, “Okay!”

You shut your bedroom door behind you and climbed into bed, wrapping the covers around yourself. The clock on your nightstand read 5 pm. Your mind was racing. You felt sick with anxiety. Were you a bad person? Are you imagining this all? Every look, or brush of the hands. Were you convincing yourself of something that isn't really there? He's a grown married man. What about Judith? Were you going to ruin the best friendship you’d ever had? Have you already ruined it? Rick knew. He must think you’re a freak. A nuisance. What is wrong with you? What is wrong with you? What is wrong with you? You couldn’t stop the tornado of thoughts in your mind as you drifted off into a fretful slumber.

~~~

You chopped the large bar of dark chocolate into messy chunks, sneaking a few slivers into your mouth now and then. The kitchen around you was endless, spanning into a vague sea of warm glowing nothingness. In fact, there really was no kitchen at all. Just the kitchen island, where you stood, chopping the chocolate bar. Perhaps you were making cookies. Yes, that's what it was: you were chopping the chocolate bar to put into chocolate chunk cookies. You were content, humming to yourself. Maybe this is all you ever did. It was bright and beautiful and heavenly familiar. Two arms snaked their way around your waist, another familiar feeling, Rick's hips to your back as he held you tightly. You breathed deeply at the sensation, lolling your head back to rest on his chest. He stole a tiny piece of chocolate from your cutting board and slipped it into his mouth. You could feel his belt buckle pressing against your skin, leaving an indentation. His heartbeat reverberated through your body as if you were one, the warmth of his chest against your cheek. Wordlessly he dipped his head down, so close you felt his breath against your neck, you could smell the chocolate, his beard slightly scratching you. You dropped your knife and gripped the counter tightly as you felt his lips ever-so-slightly brush against your throat, neck, and ear sequentially. Almost like he was inhaling you. Searching for the right spot. He hesitated, making you wait. His hands gripped you tightly to him. Almost possessive, like you were his. One slowly traveled completely around your waist to the other side, pinning you to him while the other slid down. His palm was stretched wide, his fingertips brushing past where your thigh connects to your hips. The proximity of his hand to where you wanted so badly to be touched was enough to make you let out a little whine. His grip settles on your pelvis bone as he pulls you to him somehow even tighter. You communicated without words, begging him for more. Anything. He slowly lowered his lips to the side of your neck, leaving a feather-light kiss that sent shivers through your body. You pressed your hips back into him impatiently, needing more. He held your hips in place, his grasp verging on slightly painful. But it felt so good. He lightly kissed your neck again, near your jaw. Then, very slowly he moved near your ear, kissing you again. It was like he had all the time in the world to make you unravel.

He trailed down your neck towards your collarbone, his kisses becoming deeper, his lips parting more and more as if to taste you. You craned your head for more access. More, more, more. He groaned against your neck, grinding his hips into yours. His hands began to move over your body, groping and squeezing. One of your hands ran through his hair, pushing his head, his mouth, closer to your skin. The other hand was on top of his, leading his fingers down, down, down. A nearly pornographic sound escaped your lips when he finally cupped his warm hand in between your legs, his fingers applying just the right pressure to your clothed clit. You felt him smile against your throat, before resuming his languid assault on your neck. You moved your hips against his hand as he continued massaging your aching cunt incredibly slowly. “Please Rick” you begged. He was silent, but his fingers sped up incrementally. His other hand squeezed your breast, tracing your hardened nipple through your shirt. He hummed in your ear, clearly enjoying seeing you like this. You rutted your hips into his hand, the pleasure building in your core. Like a rubber band about to snap. He moved his other hand swiftly from your breast to your throat, slowing you down. He gripped it solidly, making you lose your breath. He turned your head to face him as his fingers sped up. You looked up at him, drunk on pleasure, and panting in his face. He smiled down at you, making eye contact that couldn’t be broken even if you tried. You were reaching your climax and he could tell. He stroked your neck, still looking down at you, then ran his fingers past the nape of your neck and through your hair. He gripped a fistful and pulled gently from the roots, forcing you to twist your head and shoulders even more towards him, cocking your head back. He gazed down at you through lidded eyes, studying your face. Your neck was now more exposed to him and he began kissing and sucking marks into your skin, his fingers never stopping, his other hand still pulling your head back. It was all too much for you. You were going to come. “R-rick-” you stuttered. He kissed a trail up your neck, reaching your mouth but keeping his centimeters apart. You breathed in each other's air and you writhed needily, wanting his lips on yours. You were moments away from coming, and let a choked moan escape. He swallowed it down when he finally connected your lips in the most filthy, needy, sloppy kiss. The rubber band snapped and you came hard. Waves of euphoric pleasure racked your body and you moaned into his mouth as he deepened the kiss even more. You could taste the hint of chocolate on his lips as you rode out your climax on his hand, your hips stuttering. He pulled away suddenly, right after your peak, and you opened your eyes in surprise.

You were met with the walls of your dark bedroom surrounding you, and Rick's blanket between your legs.

One of your hands was beneath your raised shirt, and the other was gripping Rick's blanket with an iron fist. Your legs still shook from your orgasm as you gained your bearings. It was a dream. You swore you could still taste a hint of the phantom chocolate. Even though no one had seen, you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at your… wet dream? Sex dream? Whatever it was. Your subconscious sleeping state had been grinding against Rick Grimes’ blanket as you slept. The dream had felt so real it was unnerving, and you were having difficulty returning to reality. But you also oddly felt better. Maybe it was all out of your system now, and things could just be normal. You were refreshed. Except for the fact that you were extremely thirsty. All that sex dreaming, your brain chimed in. You reached for your phone on the nightstand, but accidentally knocked it off in the dark.

The dark.

Dinner.

What time was it? How long have you been asleep? Sex dreaming, you mentally corrected yourself. You scrabbled for your phone on the ground, flipping it over. The screen lit up, reading 2:12 AM. You had slept through dinner to dream about a fuck-fest with your best friends dad. Woof. While you were still slightly ashamed, you couldn't dispute the fact that it was fucking hot. You kept replaying the dream in your mind. It felt so real. You got out of bed, removed the bundled-up blanket from between your legs, and headed downstairs for some water. The way his lips felt on your neck. His facial hair tickling at your skin. His hands on your body. You knew it was wrong but you wished so badly it was real. Your body clearly did too, as you felt that familiar tingling sensation return in your belly. It made you want to get back in bed and touch yourself until sunrise. Get a grip. You reached the living room and began crossing through to get to the kitchen. 

“Y/n?” came a dark voice from the couch.

You nearly jumped out of your skin, letting out a little gasp in surprise. You could make out a figure in the dark, now sitting up. A sliver of snowy moonlight caught his face and you recognized Rick, holding a half-drunk glass of whiskey. “You missed dinner,” he drawled with a smile, taking a sip of whiskey. You were still frozen in the doorway, unsure if this was even real or not. What was he doing awake? “I- sorry. I don’t know what happened. I didn’t mean to sleep so long…” you say. He waved his hand in dismissal, “It’s fine, I know you girls had a long day,” he said, placing his whiskey on the glass coffee table with a clink. “Plus I’ve never been much of a chef. We ended up gettin’ Chinese food,” he added. Your stomach grumbled hungrily at the mention of food, and you clapped a hand over it in embarrassment. Rick chortled, “I can heat some up for you if ‘ya like. We can’t have you starvin’ to death.” He stood, picked up his glass, and walked towards the kitchen. You trailed behind him, “It’s okay, I can do it. You don’t have to” you pestered. “I want to,” he stated, looking at you briefly as he retrieved a container from the fridge. That shut you up. You sat at the kitchen island, your mind wandering back to your dream. If you weren't definitely, totally, over him, this would be pretty nerve-wracking you thought. Good thing I'm all better now. He opened the box of fried rice and, oddly, got out a pan and put it on the stove. Was he reheating it for you on the actual stove? “I really don’t mind, you can just microwave it. I don’t want you to go to any trouble,” you offer nervously. He dumped the fried rice into the pan with a sizzle, and looked over to you with a smile, 

“I want to, honey. Just let me take care of 'ya.”

...

Sooo, actually you lied. You needed this man more than ever before. Fuck it.

***

notes: tee hee hee, i was giggling and kicking my feet writing this. anyways thx for waiting the past few days I hope this is satisfactory, there's a lot more to come! Literally. PS I've never written a sexy scene before so lmk what u think <3

[base0h]

Hi can I request Sabo , Ace and Luffy bonus if you want to include Shanks or Kid hcs where finding the reader who’s got her/their arm stuck in a vending machine?

Reader called them up for help because they got their arm stuck while reaching for their candy that was RIGHT on the edge and about to fall but wouldn’t. Basically “I paid for the damn candy, I’m going to get my damn candy!”

Please 💗

a/n - um. I did the same thing today 🧍how did you know 😭

Warnings - g/n reader, crack as usual

I’m getting what I paid for

- he’s afraid of vending machines specifically for this reason- he once paid for a fucking OVERPRICED water ($6.00) and it got stuck in the window

- poor guy was devastated, face on the glass and all as he stared at his overpriced Dasani water that seemed to be taunting him from inside the machine.

- came home and almost cried about it to you 😭 but he’s an big man so he held it in. you could tell he cried about it right outside the door before he came home tho.

- but guess what? You gotta conquer your fears right?? 💪🔥

- so, you two were walking around in the city, and damn you were thirsty, so you found a vending machine and took your wallet out. I imagine that Sabo immediately knew what was happening, he sensed the vending machine on his radar of fear

- he stared ominously as you took your wallet out, and as you took a five dollar bill out, you fed it into the machine, pressing the buttons. WHY WAS THE BEEPING SO LOUD ?? Was he sweating? Was it hot there? sabo honey it’s winter

- the machine slowly made the water come out, and it fell as usual, PHEW! Nothing bad happened… Maybe that vending machine was just weird before right?

- you reached into the machine and oh no. it wasn’t there

- “Damn it..”

- cue the dramatic lighting on Sabo- WHAT? IS IT STUCK?

- “These machines are so 50/50-“ -you

- “Is… is it- stuck?” -him

- “Yeah, just gimme a sec.”

- He’s now crying inside. Dead. Wasted.

- “Aw- I’m sorry y/n.. How much was it? We can go get coffee instead!”

- he was so sweet, literally offering anything in the world as if you just lost your dog or something 😭

- you put your hand in his face as you slammed your arm farther into the machine until only your shoulder was visible, and you were literally about to break the machine 😂😂

- mans was shocked- wtf were you doing?! “Y/N- IS YOUR ARM OK?!”

- “Babe- we can get something else!” -sabo

- “I’M GETTING WHAT I PAID FOR EVEN IF I HAVE TO BREAK THIS DAMN MACHINE.”

- you were his hero, his deity, his idol. How were you so brave to stick your hand in the machine? The thing of his nightmares? God he fell in love with you all over again

- he has spoken to the manager about losing 5 dollars to a vending machine (shanks don’t be a Karen)

- will not hesitate to fight the machine if needed 💀 he would put his hands up and shift his dad sandals into sport mode

- why is water so damn expensive? I mean it’s not like he’s poor or anything but DAMN Dasani 😭

- when you two were peacefully trying to get a soda from the vending machine nearby, OF COURSE. IT GETS STUCK.

- shanks tried punching the window, and shaking the whole ass machine and it just would not budge at all. He couldn’t fit his hands far enough inside the machine, so he asked if you could

- after about a solid 10 minutes of you fighting with this machine, he tried to tell you that he could just buy you a soda elsewhere but no. This machine better give you your fucking soda

- “I’m getting what we paid for shanks.”

- man was laughing, wheezing as you tried so many things to grab the soda can. Sticking your whole arm inside, your foot, hell- you even tried fitting your head in there at some point 💀

- finally… YOU GOT IT!

- if shanks had confetti right now he would be dumping it on your head- and you were so proud of yourself (you should be proud)

- “watch out vending machines, Y/N will not hesitate to fight you 💅”

- ace loved getting donuts… donuts, from the vending machines. (Please come and punch me for this joke) and you did too! Especially the little mini ones that just hit the spot :)

- it was your routinely night out with the amazing and wonderful Ace, and you two stopped by your usual vending machine. You fed the machine a 5 dollar bill and just waited for the machine to dump out the donuts

- you saw it fall, but… Why wasn’t it where the little door was? You reached in farther, feeling around for it, but it still wasn’t there…

- Ace just kept watching you struggle (bitch) and the little greasy shit had a grin on his face.

- “Ace it’s stuck!”

- “Yeah i noticed.”

- “Can you help me?”

- “I dunno it seems like you’ve got it! 👍🤭”

- “bitch.”

- after a couple minutes, you finally got it, and you triumphantly opened the pack of donuts. Ace reached out for one but hell nah. The unhelpful bitch wasn’t gonna get any 💀

- “Y/n please I’m sorry-“

- “No.”

- “PLEASEEEEEE?”

- “…no. Bitch.”

- “why are you so mean?” -ace

- “I know you could’ve just broken open the machine and saved me that trouble.”

- “But it’s funny seeing you frustrated with a vending machine!”

- Surprised you haven’t gone broke because this man raids vending machines. Will not leave ANY snack alive. (RIP snacks)

- “Ooo! Y/n that machine has cookies!”

- Your poor wallet was suffering but it’s ok, Luffy’s happiness was all you needed :) so you bought the cookies, and waited for the machine to drop the pack into the dispenser

- “Thanks y/n! You’re the best :D”

- “You’re welcome Lu, but next time please bring your wallet too.”

- The cookies got stuck in the window, DAMN IT! You shook the machine a bit, and it didn’t do much. Luffy reached into the machine with you, trying to grab the snack.

- “Luffy i got it! Take- your arm out!”

- “I’m getting what I paid for though! I want the cookies!” -Luffy

- “Excuse me what YOU paid for?! I paid for it dumbass!”

- you pushed his arm out before you shoved your arm all the way inside, painfully. Bro was shocked, the effort you were putting into getting his snack! He knew you were the best person in the world but this was yet another reminder of that :)

- you finally grabbed it, pulling it out before giving the machine a punch and a glare, “Stupid ass- machine.”

- “I love you y/n!”

- “Yeah Mhm..”

- “Here you can have… one. >:)” -Luffy

- “dumbass you better give me more than one 💀”

a/n - ace is such a bitch but I feel bad about the joke

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 116

Part 1 Part 115

Steve’s counting the days until winter break. Something’s settled within him, now that things have been hashed out with Eddie, and he’s ditched his car and old house key. He wants to go home. But there’s a good week left of pretending to still care about schoolwork along with the rest of the seniors. 

High school, as always, is a powder keg Steve can’t wait to get out of – all it takes is a single lit match and the whole barrel’s going up in flames, taking all nearby bystanders down with it. Steve’s never been good at keeping his distance. 

Carol and Tommy used to be his crutches. They both know how to look out for the striking of the match, when to step back, and when to blow it out. They’d circle him like feral wolves protecting their fresh kill. 

Steve’s always been good at reading people’s moods, but never the room. And now that Carol’s on the fringes of the in-crowd, and Steve’s drop-kicked himself out entirely, all they’ve got left is Tommy, and he’s more likely to be holding the match.

Steve’s dressed down for gym for the first time in weeks, his doctor’s note apparently the only stay of execution he’d receive. He’s excited, is the thing. He’s not even particularly bothered by the looks the other guys are throwing him in the locker room, knows there are scars now that there weren’t the last time he was in here: most notably shiny pink burns speckled across his back.

It doesn’t matter. He wants to move.

Hargrove snorts. “I knew you were into some kinky shit, Harrington,” he drawls from across the locker room. “But this is sick, even for you.” 

Steve pulls his shirt down and slips his shoes on without untying them, ready to get out of there. It doesn’t stop Hargrove from calling after him.

“Is that what you let those freaks do when you were all tied up?”

Steve doesn’t mean to turn back, but he does, confusion taking over his higher brain functions. Hargrove’s smirking, a few of his cronies hanging on to his every word and laughing right along with him.

Hagan’s not laughing. His fists are bunched and he’s glaring at Steve, but Steve still knows him. Tommy has never been an angry guy. The anger’s always been a veneer, spread thin, to cover up something else. His hands are shaking right now, like he’s not sure whether to punch Steve or hug him. He’s sucking on his bottom lip like he wishes it was Steve’s.

Steve turns his back to him, and hears his laugh, a smack of skin. He doesn’t look back. 

There will probably always be a Steve that lives inside of him that misses Tommy Hagan. The same Steve that remembers being small in the backseat of his parent’s car and just wants the idea of them back. But, that’s the Steve of years ago from a simpler, shallower time. The Steve of now has people who love him enough to stay when things get hard.

Would Tommy ever have opened his home to Steve when he got kicked out? Would Tommy have ever walked through hell to get him back?

Soccer’s not a high-contact sport, but Hargrove sure does his best to make it one. 

Basketball skills don’t translate well to it, but there’s a certain level of athleticism that makes most hand-to-eye coordination tenible. None of which explains the way Hargrove’s foot keeps slipping when he tries to kick the ball and bashing into Steve’s shins. 

None of which explains the way his shoulder checks Steve’s with enough force to send him sprawling. Twice. 

And he keeps saying shit.

“I get why you’d let those two redheads fuck with you,” Hargrove calls, looking up and down Steve’s own body like he’s trying to picture something tawdry.  “Hell, Carol’s a tight piece of ass.”

He grins smamirly over at Hagan, either not noticing or simply not caring that Hagan’s face has dropped all its forced joviality. 

“But those kids? My sister?” he continues, still grinning like it’s funny. “What are you, some sort of pedophile?”

“I don’t know your sister, man,” Steve calls, disgust twisting in his stomach, knotting his intestines up in creative bows. 

Steve kick, kick, passes the ball around Hargrove’s weak defense, hoping Hargrove will follow the ball. He doesn’t. 

“Even worse, you let Munson in on that action?” he taunts, staring Steve down. 

Steve looks past him, watching his temporary teammate score an easy goal against a goalie who’s clearly never played a sport in his life. He doesn’t know what Hargrove’s on about, but engaging with vipers never leads anywhere good. 

It doesn’t stop him from spewing more poison. “I always knew you were a freak.” He says it like he’d rather fling a different word that starts with the letter F. 

The teacher blows his whistle at them, shouting complaints about lazing about and lollygagging, so they’re all three forced to run to the other side of the field and catch up with the rest of the game. That doesn’t stop Hargrove from running his mouth. 

“Hell, I heard all sorts of rumors about the three of you, back when you were the king. Carol, Tommy, and Steve, the inseparable trio.” Even through all the monologuing, he doesn’t even have the decency to be out of breath. 

Steve’s lived a far more sedentary life this past year, and he’s panting now, forehead tacky with sweat. But, there’s a certain level of athleticism it takes years to lose, so he still keeps up. 

“I know Carol was Tommy’s girl,” Hargrove continues, lunging around Steve to stop the ball, kicking it from foot to foot with coordinated ease. “But I heard you were taking it just as much as she was.” 

Hargrove feints left, right, scores a goal, running backward to get back on defense without turning his grinning face away from Steve’s. 

“Who would've thought King Steve was a fa–”

Tommy Hagan’s fist interrupts Hargrove’s little speech. It connects with a meaty thwack! with Hargrove’s jaw, hard enough to make his teeth clack together. 

So: powder keg, lit match, ka-boom!

“What the fuck were you just going to call me?” Hagan snarls. 

He swings again until Hargrove rolls them over and starts swinging back. Steve stares, stunned as the teacher blows his whistle and starts running. 

He can almost hear Eddie’s soapbox rant. Something about testosterone, and projection, and the homoeroticism of high school sportsball. 

Both boys are bloody and seething by the time they’re pulled apart and escorted to the principal’s office. 

He intercepts Carol at Barbara’s car after school to tell her what happened, unsurprised when she just laughs. 

“Serves him right,” she says grinning and peering into the parking lot like she might catch sight of his bloodied face. 

“Should we do something about the rumors?” he asks, whispering the last word like if someone hears it, they’ll immediately spew homophobic slurs in both of their directions.

Carol just waves her hand dismissively. “Nah, that’ll just fan the flames.” She wraps her hand around his waist and squeezes, fingers tucked proprietarily beneath his t-shirt. “Go home and this’ll all blow over by next week.”

He tells Eddie what happened on the way home.

Eddie cackles. “Of course it would happen in gym,” he says, grinning as he runs a vacant stop sign without even a rolling stop. “All that testosterone running through their bodies until they’ve just got to touch each other.”

Steve settles in to listen to his rant, delighted when he guessed most of the beats Eddie would hit just right. 

He should be surprised when Hargrove and Hagan are sitting next to each other at lunch the next day, laughing and shit-talking as if the whole school isn’t still atwitter about their all-out brawl the day before. 

He should be, but he’s not. Tommy and Carol have always been good at playing the game, and it looks like Tommy’s determined to stay on the board. 

Steve and Carol trade a commiserating lunch, and go back to their respective conversations. Tommy’s been given chance after chance to make a different choice, but he never does. Steve’s not about to light his own match for an old friend who’d never burn right along with him.

Steve counts down the days until he can go home, and stay there with Eddie, for weeks on end. Four, three, two, one. 

Home.

Part 117

[unhinged-summer-fun]

common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 1

Pairing: Osha Aniseya/Qimir "The Stranger" Themes of note: Modern AU, coffee shop AU, boxing/fighting AU, slow burn romance, personal identity exploration, sports injury & recovery, angst yada yada. First few chapters are rated T, but bumps to M eventually. Summary: One cold winter night, Osha meets a stranger while she's working late at the cafe. Like the spark that lights a very long fuse, there's no way this doesn't end in fire and upheaval.

A/N: Mehmehmehmeh I ain't back on tumblr this is just another horn of mine to toot lol it's also on my AO3 is why. This is also written for da bestie and is held hostage by them (affectionate). Dividers by @firefly-graphics

series masterlist

chapter 1: round one

Somehow, the mysterious problems with the espresso machine returned.

Not that anyone asked her, but Osha didn’t believe it was pure coincidence that this was the fifth time she’d been called in to fix the machine immediately after Yord was on the schedule. It couldn’t wait for her next shift because most people who needed espresso needed it in the mornings, and Mae worked the morning shift.

Regardless, it wasn’t a coincidence. Osha just wanted to get quietly pissed at a fixable problem so that by the time it was fixed, she’d forget what she was pissed about. With just the lights on behind the bar and the small flashlight in her mouth, she tried not to think about how eerie the cafe looked at night. The snow swirling in the windowsill outside served as an unhelpful reminder that her car was still in the shop, and the walk back to the apartments would be very, very cold.

But the hot water tap had priority over that. This was the most temperamental part of the whole unit, a half dozen little fastenings keeping it pinned to the machine wall to prevent it from lashing out all over the place every time anyone pressed a button. Each gentle click of her spanner sounded like a clap of thunder in the deserted shop, and a sensation of deep, deep dread she hadn’t felt in years rose in her chest. “Shit,” she whispered, forgetting about the flashlight in her teeth and spitting it out onto the floor. “Damnit.”

When she stood, a man was standing behind the machine.

“Fuck!”

The man was lucky; Osha might not have had the left hook her sister did, but that didn’t mean she didn’t still have one hell of a swing. She almost threw the flashlight at him but held on, wielding it like a four-inch baseball bat.

The man’s face went from neutral and stony to overly expressive in a heartbeat. “Oh! I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to startle you!” he said, laughing nervously and scratching the back of his head. Osha took him in, the baggy hoodie and jeans, the glasses, the toothy smile, the black bag slung over his shoulder. All in all, he didn’t look harmless, but he didn’t look like he meant her harm either.

“We’re closed.”

“The door was, uh, unlocked.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the door, giving her a shrug as if to say, what can you do?

“Even so, we’re still closed. You have to go.” For a moment, she considered grabbing the portafilter as a potential weapon. It’d certainly work better than the flashlight.

He put both his hands up. “Alright, alright. Can’t I just… step out of the cold for a minute or two? I’ll stay over here by the door.”

She shouldn’t. This man was undoubtedly a stranger, and a strange stranger, at that. But she knew the biting cold wasn’t pleasant, and her kind streak had never entirely been snuffed out.

“Fine. Sit there.” She pointed to a table where she could get a complete look at him while she continued working. He went willingly but faced her when he took his seat.

“Thank you,” he said, head tilting slightly to the side. “Not many people would be so kind.”

She didn’t look over at him, only answered him with a grunt as she tore into the hot water line with more ferocity than necessary. How in the hell did Yord mess this up? Nobody even touches this but me!

“I thought this place was open 24 hours,” the stranger said conversationally. When he realized Osha wouldn’t answer him, he continued. “Didn’t it used to be? It was always packed, classes at midnight and sunrise and sunset.”

That piqued her interest. Osha paused her crusade against the tap and frowned at him. “Are you a member at the gym?”

Even from here, she could see his jaw clench a little, one muscle feathering so quickly it might have been a trick of the light. “Oh, a long time ago. A lot must have changed if you’re the only one on staff right now.”

It sounded threatening. It should have been threatening. A strange man had come in, told her he had some measure of fight training, and pointed out she was alone. Yet, Osha couldn’t put her finger on why she saw it as bluster. The dread in her chest had entirely dissipated, and her heartbeat had returned to normal following the stranger’s sudden appearance.

“How long ago? I’ve been here a long time, too. Know everyone here.” She kept one eye on him as she worked, uncoupling the wall fastenings for the line to the group head. 

“It was a long, long time ago. But hey—there might be a few days of overlap if you’ll answer a question for me.”

She frowned and kept her focus on the machine. “Go ahead.”

“You’re Osha, right?”

Her hand slipped, and she dropped the spanner deep into the machine’s body. Biting back a curse, her attention warred between the stranger knowing her name and grabbing her tools.

“H-how do you know that?” C’mon, where is it?

In the seconds she’d been looking away, he had stood up to prop his hip against the table he’d been sitting at. “I remember two little girls coming in for one of the children’s sunrise classes I was in. Twins, and I swear they looked just like you and your sister.”

For an instant, she tried picturing this strange man as a child, but she hardly remembered anything from her first few weeks at the gym when their dad had taken them to train. Her imagination wouldn’t be of any help here.

“You know my sister?”

“Mae? Oh, I’ve met her a few times in passing. It’s a small city if you get out enough. I only knew your names as a child, though.” He gave a breathy, goofy laugh, pulling at something like interest in Osha’s belly.

She supposed he was near her age. He looked young, but some people’s genes aged more gracefully than others. “It—yeah. I’m Osha. What’s—what are you doing?”

Slowly, he walked toward the counter beside the machine. The conversation had thawed the ice of their meeting a little, which could have permitted a closer boundary, but it was still a little alarming. “My hearing isn’t the best. Get your bell rung enough times, and it never stops singing, does it?”

He tilted his head in the light to show her the slightly blue shell of his ear—it’d been likely drained from a hematoma to prevent cauliflower ear. You didn’t have ears like that without being in the ring for a while. She also saw a pair of charming little twists in his hair to keep it off his ears, which shouldn’t have been so… cute. This guy was a lot of things, but cute didn’t seem like one of them. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, leaning on the counter with his forearms. The hoodie covered his body shape well, but from where it dropped off at the shoulders, he must have been incredibly broad. “It’s incredible, actually.”

“What is?” She shook off her single-bed shoulder musings.

“You look… exactly like her.”

His voice had dropped, along with the convivial squint to his eyes. His voice sounded dark and rich as his near-black irises and every part of her perked up in response. “Um.” Osha racked her head for an intelligent comeback, settling on, “Well, that’s not uncommon for twins.”

The playful lilt to his voice returned. “Yeah,” he grinned. “But really, down to how you frown at me, you two look so alike. It’s impressive.”

Osha frowned at him, then tried not to and failed. The stranger only smiled, a flash of that darker look shining through. Now thoroughly flustered, Osha turned back to the machine. “How’d you know I wasn’t Mae when you walked in?”

“I just knew.” She saw him shrug again in her periphery and continued wrenching back the hot water tap. “What’s wrong with it?”

“What isn’t wrong with it, more like.” She grunted and released another fastening. Now that there was an open entrance for her to stick her hand in, she felt around for the spanner she’d dropped. “This thing has to be like 25,000 years old.”

“That may be truer than you think.”

She met the stranger’s eyes, charmed by his easy smile and laughter. She’d never been one to make fast friends; that was more Mae’s speed, but whatever this conversation was, she wanted more of it.

She found the spanner and made a slight noise of victory, carefully maneuvering her hand back through—

The tap line went taut quite suddenly, and without any fittings keeping it in place, the hot water line suddenly contracted, snagging a jagged edge into her wrist and pinning it to the inner wall of the machine. She could feel the water getting hotter around her wrist, and she tried letting go of the spanner to yank her hand out, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Shit!”

Suddenly, two huge hands were there, one wrapping around her forearm to still her and the other reaching into the machine without hesitation. The line loosened around her wrist, and she was pulled free immediately. After that, the stranger hit a sequence of buttons to shut down the machine but still didn’t let go of her forearm.

In the fading whine of the machine, Osha’s heartbeat sounded like a stampede in her ears. She could feel the body heat radiating off the man this close. The callouses on his palms spoke of hard work and discipline. His knuckles bore the permanent blush of a fighter’s hands. Carefully, he pulled back her sleeve and hissed softly, revealing the minor burn over the top of her wrist.

“Poor thing.”

Heat flared up Osha’s neck as if she’d swallowed the hot water line instead of basically wearing it. The stranger leads her to the sink and runs the cool tap before parking her wrist beneath the faucet.

Burns weren’t uncommon in the cafe, and little cuts and swollen bruises weren’t uncommon in the attached boxing gym. As such, the first aid kits for both were well-stocked for each common injury. The stranger moved with confident grace to the red box on the wall, leafing through the contents before finding what he wanted: an antiseptic wipe, burn cream, gauze, and medical tape.

“Let me see.”

He took her wrist back in his hands, gentle but firm, just as he’d held her before. On the spots where his skin touched hers, it burned differently.

He kept his head down as he dressed her wound, using his teeth to tear off pieces of tape. He had a serious aura; the goofy guy he’d been now shifted into an intensely focused man. When satisfied with his work, he didn’t let go, using the last few seconds of soft quietude to draw his thumb across the top of the bandage.

“How’s that?” he said, bouncing back to the playful person he wanted her to see.

But Osha had seen that other side, the rock-steady intensity that had come over him the moment she’d been in danger. That version of himself hadn’t left until he knew she was out of harm.

Osha had hardly been able to blink, let alone breathe, during his treatment of her. Something about his light touch made her wonder how he fought. No soft-handed, theatrical fighter would have been capable of aching gentleness like this.

“It’s—good.” She cleared her throat and fought to look him in the eye. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. It was the right thing to do. Anyway, it should be less dangerous when it’s off.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t do that,” she muttered, embarrassment taking over from flustered.

“It’s late, and we’re all prone to mistakes in the dark.”

Her eyes snapped to his at the statement. It sounded so familiar that she could have sworn she had heard it before, but the stranger was already moving, pushing his sleeve past his elbow. Time stood still for a fraction of a second, and Osha could see his forearm, all corded muscle, and scars. And then he reached into the espresso machine, carefully pulling out the spanner.

“There. That what you were looking for?”

Osha blinked owlishly before taking the tool from him. It was impossible to avoid brushing her fingers against his, and the spark of his touch ignited something deeper inside her than skin could reach.

“Thank you, uh…”

“Of course!” Dutifully, the stranger returned to his post, and the counter was put back between them as it should have been. But Osha couldn’t understand why she’d been so adamant about it before. Maybe he was right; it’s late, after all. 

The rest of the work was fast, ticking away minutes as she found the culprit: an overenthusiastic portafilter had shifted the group head an inch out of place, which made every piece of fussy machinery within the casing rebel. “Yord, I swear to god…” Osha grumbled, taking a second to write a warning on scrap paper once everything was packed up.

“Ah, a consistent problem, then?” The Stranger had stayed quiet the whole time Osha worked, and only when he spoke up again did she notice he hadn’t pushed his sleeve down. Her eyes snagged on the sight the way her wrist had snagged on the jagged metal inside the machine.

“You could say that. Hey, um, I have to run it a few times to make sure it’s operational. And… thank you for helping me out. Can I make you something?”

His head tilted in such a way that she could finally see the look on his face was a smile. It felt like looking into one of those dichroic prisms, finding a flash of blue here, a flash of red there, but only at one specific angle inside the glass. “Whatever you want to give me, I’d be happy with.”

Ignoring that, she fell into another set of muscle memory. Even tired and irritated from the burn on her wrist, her hands never faltered as she made up a shot on each group. When the machine shouted itself awake, she watched as two twin porcelain espresso cups filled with darkness, noting the flow, the steam output, and the lack of grit in the pour. “Perfect,” she murmured to herself, satisfied with her work.

Osha assembled a drink to-go for him, sliding it over the bar. Unfortunately, muscle memory took over again, and she shouted, “I have a two-shot Americano at the bar for—oh my god, I’m so sorry, that was so loud.”

He threw his head back and laughed almost as loud as her barista voice had been. That toothy grin was back, and his hair fell into his eyes when he sat back again. “Thank you, I’m oh my god I’m sorry that was so loud, yes.” Their hands brushed again when she realized she hadn’t let go of the cup yet.

“I know it’s pretty late for caffeine, but it’s the least I could do,” she said, a little bashful. His laugh was nice. His smile was nice. He was nice.

He didn’t hesitate to bring the drink to his lips and take a sip, eyes locked with hers. All at once, her mouth went dry, and her blood sang. The smile evolved into a smirk when he set the coffee down again. “Never too late for me. I hardly sleep.”

“I know what that’s like,” Osha sighed, cleaning and shutting the machine down for the night. “I hope that drink’s okay.”

“It’s my usual.”

“No wonder you can’t sleep if your usual is twice the amount of caffeine normal people have.”

“The power of two is a potent high.” He shrugged.

“That’s a slippery slope to tread, stranger. It took me a while to quit.”

“Are you saying I’m an addict?”

Osha almost blanched at his words until she saw the playful tilt of his head. “I’m saying indulgence is a dangerous path.”

He shrugged. “Semantics.”

With the machine shut down for the night, she started flicking off the lights. The stranger took the hint, edging toward the front door.

When the main lights were off, he stood silhouetted against the storefront, snow swirling darkly around him like a smoky aura. He’d pulled up his hood; it gave him a more menacing outline than she’d thought him capable of. Like this, she couldn’t see the goofy smile or the glasses, the glittering dark eyes. He’d shed all of the attributes that made him approachable and safe.

And still, she was not afraid.

She walked to him, nearly shoulder-to-shoulder by the time he turned. “Thank you, Osha,” he said. The soft light from outside cast his features in sharp planes of shadow, concealing most of his features save his nose, lips, and chin.

“Don’t mention it,” she said softly, feeling trapped in a bubbled moment she didn’t want to leave. She’d reflect on this later; she wouldn’t scorn herself for doing what felt right in the moment.

His lips quirked in a half-smile she couldn’t resist returning. “I’ll see you around.”

And then he left in a blast of swirling snow and cold.

CHAPTER 2

[doberbutts]

Do you or your friends see a difference in household or play behaviors in a dog after mondior or IGP kind of training? My breeder is concerned that once you flip the biting switch you can't really take it back, but obviously there's a whole lot of wonderful protection sport dogs out there who aren't biting random people. I figured I'd ask someone who has had dogs both bitework trained and not bitework trained for comparison. Personally I think it is a beautiful sport and the dogs seem to love it the way I love, say, stage combat or LARP.

Hope you and the beasties are having a good day

Well. No, in the way you're probably thinking. But also yes.

Truthfully I have only taken 2 dogs through any amount of protection sport and both I would still be considered very green in. Fenris is no where near trial ready, after all, partially because I'm deliberately taking it slow and partially because I am very poor and unwilling to throw a large amount of money at seminars or training that I feel may be subpar for what we need- I would rather pay these amounts for training that I can verify is the quality he deserves than chance it on someone fucking up what we've built thus far.

It is my belief that your breeder's concern is valid, and it is something that I warn people about myself especially when dealing with off breeds or with dogs of temperaments not well suited to the work. You are, regardless of what anyone tells you, teaching your dog that biting humans is a perfectly acceptable and even expected behavior depending on the circumstance and behavior pattern. Do understand that this means your dog will see similar contexts and at some point have to make a judgement call. Not every dog makes the right judgement call for the situation.

I'm thinking of a friend whose husband was dying of cancer, and he fell in their house, and as she rushed to help him the dog tried to attack her to protect his owner. This is an extreme case of "worst case scenario"- but ask yourself if that is a scenario you can handle with the levelheadedness she did in order to prevent anyone from being bit. This particular case was a matter of both genetics and training, however the dog in question was not an off breed and in fact was bred with protection in mind.

I'm thinking of a different friend who had border collies show up at club. One day the owner of the border collies was walking through an aisle at a pet store with their dogs, and a man in a puffy winter coat approached to ask them a question. One of the border collies latched onto the man's bicep exactly like how it was trained to, and the other performed a near perfect bark and hold. This person voiced regret of ever having opened that door, and now they have two dogs with recorded bite histories. It is my personal opinion that this is a case of two dogs with temperaments poorly suited to the work more than anything else, however that does not change the undesired outcome.

That being said, I can pet most of the dogs at club without any real concern, though I still keep my hands to myself unless the owners actively tell me to pet and play with their dogs. The few I can't also aren't off breeds, for what it's worth, but in fact are malinois which the sport was more or less designed around. I also don't think the training caused the inability for these specific dogs to socialize with trainers- I think that is a genetic temperament question, and all the training did was give them an outlet for their inherent aggression.

Fenris is a hideously social and friendly doberman. He is best friends with every human at the club and frequently licks the decoys right in the face as he wiggles and jumps on them before they agitate him. He just spent two hours hanging out at the car repair shop yesterday while I was getting my new tires put on. Anyone who stopped to pet him got wiggles and licks and puppy behavior. Anyone who didn't was ignored. While he is a mite too friendly to me, I have not seen any real change to this friendliness or his willingness to accept friendly and neutral strangers despite the decoys telling me that he is really becoming quite a monster in training.

He's also very suspicious, and fairly possessive. I have seen that increase, however at his age it's sort of difficult to determine if that was always going to increase or if the training had anything to do with that. Personally I think it is a mix of both- he was a suspicious and possessive little asshole from the start and now he is learning that there is a time and place for that to really come out of him, so he is more inclined to showing this behavior as he ages through his teenage phase and matures in his training.

For example: we started defense of handler last month, an exercise where the dog heels closely beside the owner and turns its body to watch the decoy waiting for an aggressive move towards the owner. Fenris now watches closely when we are approached by strangers at night while on walks, not acting but simply waiting to see what they might do. This behavior may have come out of him anyway, because even when he was a young puppy he would occasionally give the stink eye to anyone who rushed us (usually panhandlers asking for money in parking lots, but also the occasional person looking for trouble and an easy mark). He barked at a homeless guy who lunged at us on the sidewalk* when we walked past 6 months ago- well before defense of handler. He may have always been inclined to be wary of fast, jerky movements towards us.

That is what a doberman is for. They were never meant to accept suspicious or potentially aggressive strangers, and these sorts of situations are exactly what many dogs would consider suspicious and aggressive behavior. Homeless Guy I think was just high or having some mental episode and not actively dangerous to passersby, but lunging at someone from the shadows is a really stupid way to get bit (if they have a dog) or punched/shot/stabbed (if they don't but think they need to defend themselves). The panhandlers that literally run up to us from across the parking lot- same thing, if someone spots you at a distance and starts running towards you with intent, many times this is going to get read as aggressive behavior. Again, not actually harmful, they're just begging for money. However, how is my dog supposed to know that when the behavior says "I am going to hurt you" to a dog?

For example: we started object guard, where he stands over an object and stops the decoy from snatching it out from under him by biting. Coincidentally, he's also started low rumbling at the other dogs when they're near stuff he likes, and he lays directly on top of these objects and hides them under his legs/body. While I do think the training definitely intensified this behavior, he's always been a bit punky with his stuff and not been keen on sharing. I manage it so we don't have a dog fight, and I have a bunch of dogs that are allergic to conflict anyway so it's a pretty easy situation to work with. All four of my dobermans including the one that had never been in any bitework scenario ever have been somewhat guardy when it comes to high value resources (in fact the only one that never did any bitework also is the only one that started a dog fight over a guarded object (ME, I was the guarded object)), so it is also very possible that this would have developed in him regardless of training.

Funny enough, however, I will also say that Fenris specifically has become exponentially more velcro and cuddly immediately after every protection session. It does something magnificent to the bond between us, and his affection is through the roof when we get back to our bedroom after a long day on the club field.

Creed, my other dog who I took through this type of training, I felt was actually more confident afterwards. He had a lot of reactivity as a teenager and getting him to a club more often seemed to have a significant amount of positive impact on this behavior. I have seen other dogs experience the same. Probably something similar to how my nephew had a lot of PTSD and anxiety immediately after a horrific domestic abuse situation he and his mom had to flee from, and the thing that helped him resolve that was getting him started in martial arts classes. If nothing else, you learn to trust that you can handle it if a situation that makes you feel powerless comes for you a second time, I suppose. I'd be interested to know if that's connected to some behaviors I see from dudes who are obsessed with weapons and fighting, but that's another post in and of itself.

However I was fairly reluctant to move forward with this training with Phoebe, my soft scared girlie, because she had a panic response of "pick a direction and run very fast don't look back" and I was nervous that taking her to protection training would bleed into her panic attacks and instead of running she would hit the end of the leash, realize the flight was not an option, and start biting. And I was not particularly interested in chancing that, because regardless of how scared she was she would choose flight and freeze over fight every time and this made he very safe to be around. My first doberman was a very anxious rescue who was taught that biting is an option when running isn't working, and I ended up having to behaviorally euthanize him because his previous home fucked him up so bad. I want to be clear that this was a result of bad training and worse temperament, but knowing Phoebe's temperament I was unsure if I wanted to chance it with her.

I never did take her to club before her weird GI/liver thing that ultimately killed her, but she ended up loving tug and her confidence did soar once she learned the game. And it did bleed into other areas as well- she was much happier and more confident when out in public even though we only played tug in my living room. If her health hadn't crashed like that, I would have been taking her to mondio with Fenris the first week I had him to see if she liked it and if there was anything in here to play with.

So. A long winded answer to say that yes I have seen the training change behaviors off the field, but probably not in the way you're expecting to hear.

[sadie-bug345]

the gang as classes i’m taking this year 🤓☝️

is this a way for me to flex my fucked schedule? yes.

ponyboy:

AP Lit

ARE WE SURPRISED

likeeeee this is pony to a T

we’re currently reading the crucible (my school starts HELLA early in the year)

and pony is surprisingly vibing w the salem witch trials

a good amount of homework for this class, but since the majority is reading pony’s got that down

he does get super bored when they’re just taking notes though like his imagination just runs free

johnny:

APUSH ?? 🧍‍♀️

uhhh this was one i don’t really think would fit johnny but i only have 6 classes and calling “lunch” a class is reserved for steve

honestly this class is super quiet except the table i sit at with my friends so i think if johnny was with the gang (PRETEND THEY ALL GO TO SCHOOL OKAY🤨) or at least ponyboy he’d have a good old time

lots and lots and lots of notes but johnny kinda likes just independent work like that ykwim

group projects with random people suck the SOUL OUTTA HIM

darry:

sports med 2 ⚽️🏀🏈⚾️🥎‼️

darry would love this class at first solely cause there’s the word “sports” in it

this class has like 15 people in it, most are kinda jerks but he gets through it

when it comes to helping out the athletic trainer on game days after school, darry is THERE and he’s PREPARED

years of momming around teenage boys has prepared him to….tape some random kids wrist i guess

dally:

anatomy and physiology 🧍‍♀️☝️

HEAR ME OUT

first of all, i’d love to study human anatomy w him any day of the week💀🥰🤭😏😼

SECOND OF ALL, i think bros psychopathic tendencies would come out during dissection labs /j

in all seriousness though i feel like he’d be totally fearless when doing those typa labs like everyone’s kinda grossed out and scared (irl we gotta dissect a RABBIT😭🫢) and dally’s just like

”idk what yall are on about, mannn🙄”

also it’s a notoriously easy class at my school so that’s up dally’s lane for sure

two-bit:

pre calc🫢

NOW HEAR ME OUT AGAIN

the only reason i say this is because this year we got a new teacher to teach my pre calc class and she’s from some eastern european country and has an accent just like Grus from despicable me😭😭😭and that class is SO QUIET

and that’s kinda where two shines like he’ll yell out so much random shit in that class and it’s so hilarious to…

pretty much only his friends 🧍‍♀️ but that’s kinda the fun part though

lots of homework but you’re delusional if you think two-bits gonna actually do that

soda:

photo 2

the majority of the time spent in this class is just messing around on your computer which soda loves

like bro will find the most outta pocket and weird stuff to photograph

but also he gets real artsy with it sometimes just cause he’s messing around

surprisingly it turns out super good sometimes

he’s the king in general of being just as shocked as anyone that hes succeeding as a whole

steve:

LUNCH

bro struggles through the entire day just for these 20 minutes istg

like bro endures so much in classes he doesn’t understand with people he doesn’t like just for those moments😭😭

honestly that’s me during seasonal depression winter

hes the type to stop everyone during lunch and just rant about all the weird shit that happened throughout that day

like he’s def the type to see someone get jumped or do something weird in class and think

”man i gotta tell the gang about this at lunch”

actually doesn’t mind school food…😭

OK IDRK WHAT THIS WAS THIS KINDA SUCKED BUT ANYWAYS MY INBOX IS OPEN BYEEEEE🥰🥰

[what-gs-watching]

"If that's a joke, I love it. If not, can't wait to unpack that with you later."

So, here’s a thing - winter makes me sad. I mean, it makes a lot of people sad, but also me. When I was younger I used to just cause a whole bunch of drama to get it out of my system but I’m an adult now and I’m still mostly fruitlessly job searching and I can’t really just go around starting fights anymore so I’m just sitting in my ennui, feeling unmoored. 

Which made me realize: I need Ted Lasso. Desperately.

Wherein, a low level American football coach moves to England to coach actual football (aka soccer) and ends up creating something so beautiful it’ll make you laugh and cry until you just can’t anymore.

If you’ve never seen Ted Lasso, first of all - how dare you? And secondly, start it now. Like, literally right now. It’s everything you didn’t know you needed. 

I will admit I didn’t get into it until my husband watched it and encouraged me into it because of my love for Jason Sudeikis. I tend to pick up unnatural obsessions for SNL alumni, I just want all of them to succeed, so I gave in and instantly lost my mind over it. I couldn’t get enough.

During the second season run, I literally had a standing weekly fifteen minute meeting with my engineers to talk about the latest episode and our theories on what would happen next, or what our favorite joke had been. There were MANY heated debates.

Before the third season came out, I made my family binge the first two seasons while we were on vacation. I remember my mom calling me after she and my dad had watched the series finale so we could talk about it - she’d never bought into a show like that before.  

Ted Lasso just brings people together, and I find it absolutely ridiculous that this poignant, wonderful, life affirming show came out of a bit that Sudeikis wrote in 2013 for an NBC Sports commercial. It’s mind boggling. 

You guys know, it’s all about the relationships for me, and that’s the entire show, really. Ted is unrelentingly positive and charming and understanding and the reason he likes coaching is because he wants to help his players be the best versions of themselves and wooooph throughout the show, you get that, for every single character, even Ted himself. It’s about loving each other and loving yourself and also somewhat about football and it’s just so fucking…delightful. 

And I’m obsessed with all of the different dynamics. Ted and Beard, and Roy and Ted and Beard, and Roy and Jamie, and Roy and Keeley, and fucking Keeley and Rebecca! If you need to see a perfect incredible WONDERFUL female friendship, it’s Rebecca and Keeley fucking Jones. Someone needs to write a long-winded essay about these two, because dear lord, I want a best friend like that. Everyone wants a best friend like that. Like, I just can’t with all of the messy, hilarious, beautiful relationships. I want to be part of them all.

Also,  it’s funny. Like, properly funny. Laugh-out-loud-no-matter-how-many-times-you’ve-seen-it funny. The bits are layered. And you’ll get something different out of them every single time. Nuance, gang. It’s all so nuanced. 

The first season is absolutely perfect. You get to know all of the characters and you get a general sense of what’s up. Everyone is kind of charming and you’re immediately annoyed with Rebecca and charmed by Roy even though he tries his best to be threatening, and you think that Nathan is adorable and you’re pulled into Ted’s unwavering enthusiasm and Beard’s silliness indulgence and straight-man stoicism and Keeley’s adorableness. And it’s WONDERFUL! I’ve seen season one at least four or five times, likely more. It’s everything.

There are so many good moments. At one point, Ted says he’s having salads for lunch with Higgins who is communications director or something and as Ted goes to leave Higgins says “Cesar you later!” and Ted BURSTS back in through the door and just yells “YES!” and it’s hilarious every time. 

When Ted and Beard realize that Roy is a bristling motherfucker who wants to hate everything, Ted says something like “wait til we win him over”, with Beard announcing “He’s. Going to be. Furious.” (And he was.)

It’s the little things in the first season that really endear you to Ted Lasso. It just wraps you up and makes you feel warm and appreciated, like there are people out there that are pure and good and they can make you feel pure and good too. 

And then you get into season two and you start to see behind the curtain. Ted’s really not okay with his divorce (which, I still think is because his wife couldn’t deal with his optimism? Which is so insane to me and I can’t even, I never forgave her like, what the fuck is that) and in general and they tackle a lot of mental health issues and social issues and it’s a bit hard to get through.

But at the same time, season two has some of my favorite bits? Which is confusing??! The scene where Sam asks Isaac for a haircut - everyone gets a single cut from the captain once a season - and the entire team watches and whoops and freaks out and it’s like, an intricate performance and everyone is just so fucking thrilled to be witnessing it? It’s weirdly beautiful. 

Ted and Beard teaching the entire team the choreography to NSYNC’s Bye Bye Bye so they can send off the team shrink in a ridiculous way? Incredible. When they finally get the dance right, they lose their fucking minds. It’s so JOYFUL.

The episode where Roy finally realizes he wants to join the coaching staff and he makes a dramatic trek to the stadium while “She’s a Rainbow” blares? The theme of that one was believing in rom-communism - to rouse the team Ted tells them “Fairy tales do not start nor do they end in the dark forest” and yo that’s so TRUE - and when Roy finally showed up on the pitch he said, “You had me at ‘coach’.” I cry every single time I see that one. I literally watched it twice in a week when getting the family into the show and I cried both times. Hard. 

I think part of the reason this show is so resonating is because dark shit happens, but a lot of really sweet things happen too. There’s an episode wherein Rebecca’s dad dies and they’re all attending the funeral but it still is somehow achingly funny too, even though you learn some terrible things about Ted and Rebecca both in that one. They really ride the line of darkness and light and it’s messy and that’s life.

And then season three is hard.  So much happens. And you know that you’re barreling toward the finale. There’s only 34 episodes in the entire series and it’s not nearly enough but they do try to make the most of their time. 

Watching the finale season in real time was really interesting though, I’ll say, because the fandom was so nuts at the time. So many random theories and outrage over some of the story points. And at the time I did kind of agree, but seeing it all back to back now in my first true binge, it all makes sense. Everyone had their own journey and some of them were ridiculous and maybe we just wanted things to stay the same because that’s how we fell in love with the characters but that’s not the point, gang. Shit is forever changing.

I’ll never get over the moment when Roy finally relents to the diamond dogs. Or Jamie teaching him how to ride a fucking bike in Amsterdam. Or when the team comes together to help Sam put his restaurant back together after it’s completely vandalized. Or Beard explaining to Nate his background with Ted, and offering his forgiveness to Nate as a way to honor everything Ted has done. Or Rebecca calling Roy out on his shit, saying that instead of helping himself he’d rather “eat shit soup and then complain about the portions”. 

There are so many little beautiful pieces. So many things that will pull at your heart strings and make you realize things that maybe have been niggling around in your brain but refusing to come forward because you were scared of them. Ted Lasso helps you be less scared of them. Ted Lasso helps you be less scared of everything, because it encourages you to accept yourself as you are.

In the final episode, Higgins says “Human beings are never gonna be perfect. The best we can do is to keep asking for help and accepting it when you can. And if you keep on doing that, you'll always be moving towards better.” 

And that’s what all of us need to understand. This show will ingrain that thought into you, and it’ll buoy you, and you won’t even realize it. 

So maybe now I’m feeling less ennui. Because I’m still laughing at the hijinx and basking in the wholesomeness and the amazingly perfect relationships  and the belief. Ted Lasso makes you fucking believe.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

happy wipwednesday my beloved! i glad to see that you survived yesterday's fight with our angel and came out winning!

i am here to humbly request to know what your other problem child is up after he fucked up his not-date. Can't wait for you to break my heart again but until then:

kith <3

WIP Wednesday (4/3) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 126)

The only way Neil can fix this is by explaining himself. And explaining means telling the truth. A lot of it. Pretty much all of it, he thinks. 

How can he possibly do that? 

Neil’s never told anyone the truth. Well, besides the FBI. And that doesn’t really count because he had no choice. That night it was either tell the truth or go to prison for being related to Nathan Wesninski. He chose wisely, of course. But it was no picnic for him. Neil recalls those horrible hours he spent recounting his absolutely abysmal childhood to a government issue thug wearing scuffed loafers and a bored expression.

They didn’t believe him at first. Not totally. They made him rehash everything over and over until his throat was raw from talking so much and they were finally, finally satisfied with his life story. Then they shoved him into witness protection, where he was forced to spend almost a year living in North Dakota under the name Peter Duncan.

God, Neil loathes that state. And he loathed Peter. And that stupid, dinky little apartment with the awful neighbors and shoddy TV service. Sure it was stable. Normal, even. But, as insane as it would seem to anyone else, he prefers being on the road again. Running is something he’s used to. Something that makes sense even though his demons are long buried.

He likes traveling without a destination. He likes free Wi-Fi and complimentary breakfasts and room service and nice people telling him to ‘come again’. He likes his stupid little car and it’s stupid broken radio that’s thankfully stuck on a sports channel.

Hell, he even likes Neil. He likes the man he’s become since crawling out from under his mother’s corpse and his father’s ax. Because despite everything— all the names he’s used and cities he’s seen and things he’s had to do to survive— he’s turned out to be a mostly decent person. Except for the whole… ‘burning down buildings’ thing. But he’s working on it. Sort of. And on the bright side, he hasn’t killed anyone in years. Those were all self defense, of course. So… Do they really count?

Wait a minute, Neil blinks. What was his point? 

Oh. Right. The truth. 

Other than those suited pricks at the bureau, it’s a completely foreign concept to him. Neil runs his fingers through his hair a few dozen times, the curls tangling around his fingers as he does. He rips his fingers through and wonders if he should shave his head again. No. No, it’s about to be winter and he hates when his ears are cold.

And with his hair longer, he looks less like his father.

To prove that, Neil looks into the bathroom mirror and finds Neil Josten there. Not Nathan or Nathaniel. Not even Peter. (Of course not, Peter had black hair.) Neil gives his disassembled phone a glance and wonders if Andrew would’ve wanted to be friends with Peter. Or any of his other aliases with friendly dispositions. 

It wouldn't matter. None of them would ever have even tried. That's one thing that sets him apart from all his past selves. He's trying. Neil lets out a breath. He’ll put his phone back together and tell Andrew… Something.

In a day or two. 

When he figures out what that something is.

[wandafiction]

In Every Universe - Part 3

Warnings: Small mentions, and slight descriptions of torture.

You startle awake at the feeling of ice water being chucked over you, gasping for air as you feel it drip down the back of your throat, rolling off of the bed onto the hard floor. You cough and splutter trying to clear your airways while always trying to get air into your lungs from it all being pushed out from the fall. You feel your arm twisted at a slightly weird angle, due to your hands still being cuffed, and try to roll about to get it to feel somewhat normal. 

“Wakey, wakey.” You choke slightly when you’re lifted off the ground by the back of your shirt and forced down onto a metal chair, your eyes opening to see some blonde chick and a man you know to be the winter soldier, who you think they mentioned yesterday is now bucky. 

“Xa-xa , имний солдат. Как спокойная жизнь относится к вам?Скучно, я вижу, так как вы решили привязать меня к стулу для удовольствия.Несмотря на то, что я могу признать, что у вас есть некоторые взгляды, вы.” You smirk as he pulls your arms over the back of the chair, the angle causing a small sting but nothing you can’t handle, and tying them to it. (haha, the winter soldier. How is the quiet life treating you? Boring I see since you've decided to tie me to a chair for fun. Even though I can admit you got some looks going for you, you've got the wrong equipment to satisfy my needs.)

“No you don’t get to talk.” The blonde chick puts a knife to your throat, her eyes filled with a small amount of emotion and you can only chuckle when you recognise the symbol on her knife.

“Oh, she knows how to play, itty bitty baby widow.” You laugh as a hand comes into contact with your face.

“Did you really just quote Harry Potter while we are tying you to a chair? Crazy bitch.” You shrug laughing as the blond removes the knife from your throat now you are tied up to the chair properly.

“What can I say? I love a bit of movie magic, sue me?” You shrug, or do your best to, as the two of them give each other a look. “So did I know you two too, or are you doing this harsh interrogation technique because I have no link to you?” 

“What?” The winter soldier grabs another chair facing the back towards you and sits down, crossing his arms over and resting them on the top of the chair.

“I just mean that you know before the whole you disappeared act, which by the way I still don’t believe but I’m playing along because I like games, this is the best sort of game. Wait no, maybe monopoly or scrabble because everyone gets real mad real quick and it always ends up in a fight. Wait no Russian roulette. Yes, that is my favourite game, you should play it some time. It is very fun, very very fun. Should be an olympic sport.” 

“Do you ever shut up?” You turn to the blonde chick who has taken a seat next to the winter shoulder, sitting on her chair properly with her knife twirling against her knee.

“Do you ever ask questions because all you’ve done is get me wet and tie me to a chair. Just a normal Friday night if you ask me, although normally I’m the one who is tying the woman to the chair. You know a lot of men think it's some kind of kinky game you want to play, again I’m a big ole lesbian and never would, but when you put the knife to their throat and just. swish.” You laugh bouncing in your seat. “God it gets the blood pumping, literally all over the fucking place. Work of art. Should take a picture and send it to a gallery I could earn millions.”

“Earn millions from other people's deaths? You’re sick.” You laugh looking between the two in disbelief.

“So are you two. I mean come on the winter soldier and a black widow, I’m assuming you’re a part of the group that is helping free them all. You know you’ve gone all free all widows, which I mean is pretty cool if you ask me because what is up with mind control? Now that's something sick and perverted.” Again they both look at each other, but you’re too busy rambling about if there are black widows there must be super secret ninja organisations to notice. 

“How do you know who we are?” 

“Well first of all Mr I always look grumpy it's not hard to determine who you are. I mean the arm is a dead give away, and the eyes, just something about the eyes being so dead inside most of the time. As for you Miss I’m another blonde Russian, possibly Ukrainian, hard to tell the accent, you literally have the black widow sign on your knife. Pretty dumb to use it if you don’t want people knowing.”

“I mean she is not wrong, you are very dead behind the eyes.” 

“Yeah and you are stupid for using a knife from your old work place.” The blonde assassin gasps with her hand on her heart. 

“Excuse me old man, but I’m sorry that I hold a memento for destroying, as you said, my old workplace.” Bucky mimics Yelena with his hand as he puts on a squeaky voice.

“My name's Yelena and I destroyed a super secret organisation with mommy and daddys help, oh and my big sister because we are all one big happy family.” You bite your lip smirking to yourself, not missing the name of the blonde assassin.

“Oh I'm such a grumpy old man I refuse to listen to any music made after 1950. Oh and the fact you still haven’t admitted to Stevie wonder that you want to be me more than friends.”

“Ay! Another gay! Welcome to the alphabet mafia my friend, it is a wonderful place to be!” Now they both turn to look at you, seeming to remember what they were here for.

“I’m not gay.” You and Yelena both raise a brow.

“Okay fine so you're a raging bisexual.” The man sputters for words but doesn’t find anything, and you wink at Yelena who is holding in a laugh. “Man, do you like dick or not?” 

“What?” He spits out bulging eyes as you ask the question so nonchalantly. “I don…Pfft me...I mean…why, why would you think that….I…fine yes I like….”

“Dick, just one simple word. Who thought the English language was so hard?” He glares at you  and Yelena chuckles pointing at him.

“Ha, she has you there!”

“Shut it Yel.” Yelena gently hits him on the shoulder gasping.

“Rude.”

“Come on man, it's just 1 small word. 4 little letters. You just gotta say it. Dick.” You lean forward as much as your binds allow you to. Smiling, actually smiling cheekily, tilting your head slightly.

“What does saying the word make it official or something?” You nod your head quickly, Yelena following suit.

“Well duh, if you can’t say dick how are you gonna you know? Eat it would be the wrong word, you eat pussy but you don’t eat dick.”

“Wow you really have no filter do you?” Yelena scrunches her face in slight disgust at your ease of talking about it and you simply shrug your shoulders. 

“Do I look like I care about having a filter? I’m tied to a chair having the time of my life watching a nearly 100 year old man stutter over the word dick. And he has one. I’m sure back in his day he was comparing sizes like Bro my dick so fucking big.”

“Okay stop right there, ew ew ew.” Yelena covers her ears, shaking her head as you laugh sitting back in your chair. 

“I’m just saying how is it meant to be okay with himself internally if he can’t accept the fact he wants a dick in his mouth?” Yelena fake gags as Bucky rests his head on the top of the chair, hitting it gently a few times.

“Fine, I like dick. Can we move on please?”

“Oh yeah no problem. So what sort of torture techniques you are going to use on me?. Car battery? Waterboarding? Maybe breaking my arms, knocking a few teeth out, breaking a cheekbone or both. Up to you I have two, both sides are my good side so it doesn’t really matter which one gets hit, and if you do both then it's still even and I still have two good sides. Win win for me. Or maybe you’re going to dope me up with some kind of truth serum? Highly possible, made it and used it before. Rather funny to watch people have no control over what they say. So what’s it going to be?”

“How about you just tell us what we need to know and we will be on our way?” You groan, throwing your head back at the man's words.

“Booooring. Come on, I wanna see some action or something. It's been so long. Come on just one little punch you know you want to. Just one itty bitty punch right to the side of my face. I promise you it won’t hurt me, I’m a tough cookie.” You smile smugly as both of the people look at each other, having some sort of silent conversation before turning back to you.

“You know you are pretty much as they described you.” Now your brows furrow as Yelena dismissively shrugs. “Right Buck. I mean she is so annoying and talks too much, a little too crazy and out there, bit of a gloater if you ask me.”

“Wha..”

“See that's what I was thinking. Oh and weak because who can’t break out of some simple rope ties and handcuffs. Get this they say she has pyrokinetic powers too, whatever that big fancy word means.”

“It means I make fire you dumb bitch.” You spit, hating how they are talking about you like you’re not even there; not actually caring what they say about you too much.

“Oh, have we angered her? Oh dear look at that, wiggling around in her chair trying to get to us. Pathetic. I mean, for some top secret Hydra goon you think she would pack a little more … punch.” 

“I’m not just some Hydra goon.” They continue to ignore your presence and you can feel the frustration building. 

“I mean I’ve managed to gather more information from a dead body before which is pretty freaking difficult because they’re dead.” Yelena laughs at herself shaking her head. “I mean if we aren’t going to get anything from them we might as well just leave them here.”

“Yeah I don’t think we are going to get anything useful out of them. I mean they were dumb enough to try and break into the avengers compound and think they could get away with it. So dumb.”

“They really are. I’m surprised that that sort of mission didn’t require their top agent. You know someone who can sneak in and out without getting caught, doesn’t make as much noise as this elephant did, can hack better than Tony himself. I know they have those sorts of people, but this chick ain’t it. For someone who looks like a cyborg she’s useless.” Now that got to you, talking about your few prosthetic limbs like it made you less of a person. 

“I was sent here to kill Wanda Maximoff and I would have done it had that stupid man who hides in the vents hadn’t spotted me. I mean who the fuck hides in vents, a fucking coward thats who.” You spit trying to push yourself from the chair, but instead falling with it and landing harshly on your side. 

“So you were sent here to kill my friend. Why?” You lock your jaw realising what you’ve said looking up at the two of them with a steel gaze. 

“She asked you a question.” You grind your teeth together breathing harshly through your nose ignoring the pain pulsing your side from falling to the floor.

“I wouldn’t leave me waiting if I were you.” Yelena places her boot on the side of your face pushing it against the floor more. “I asked you, why were you sent here to kill Wanda Maximoff.” 

“Why were you sent to kill her?” Bucky shouts, slamming his metal fist on the ground as he crouches down to look you in the eyes, your steel gaze not wavering. 

“Answer the fucking question.” Yelena applies more pressure and you fight the urge to give in, even with the pain causing tears to build in your eyes. 

“Do you have a death wish? Answer the fucking question!”

“Enough!” The two of them are thrown off of you with some force and you squirm on the floor a little, relaxing your jaw and shaking your head ever so slightly, trying to soothe the pain. 

“What the fuck wanda!” At the mention of her name you look up to see her holding her two teammates against opposite sides of the room with her magic, a rage in her eyes that scares you a little.

“Could you not see you were hurting her.” Wanda’s voice breaks slightly and as her gaze moves to you it softens and your heart constricts slightly.

“Well how the fuck do you expect us to get answers if she won’t talk.” Bucky argues and you lock your jaw, tearing your gaze away from the woman in front of you.

“You heard what Bruce said. We just have to wait. We can question and try to jog her memory but that doesn’t mean her ending up on the floor with a boot on her face and a gun pointed to her head.

“You had a gun!” You tilt your head back to look at the man who looks … apologetic? No you must be seeing things. “Should have put a bullet in me, Hydra will come after me. And when they do, when they find me. Each and every one of you will be so fucking sorry for keeping me here.” 

“Sure, so where are your Hydra pals now!” You turn your gaze to look at Yelena who has her brow raised in question and when you don’t answer she looks at you smugly. “That's what I thought.”

“Enough both of you.” Wanda gently places her friends on the floor, extending her magic out to you and undoing the ropes keeping you to the chair. “Don’t try anything.”

It’s all the warning you get from the red head as you slowly stand from the ground, throwing the rope to the floor in front of Bucky. Your features harden as you glare at the two of them, softening slightly as you look at Wanda before taking a few steps back until your knees hit the bed. They all watch as you sit on the end of the bed, putting your head in your hands as you take a moment to breathe, all of them deciding they would quietly leave. 

“Miss Maximoff.” You turn your head to see her turning around in the doorway outside of the cell.

“Hmm, yes?” You smile a little at her.

“Thank you for, you know, getting me out of a bind.” She chuckles lightly, giving you a small nod.

“It's no problem, get some rest. I think you are expecting another visitor soon.”

“Good bye Miss Maximoff.” 

“Good bye Miss y/l/n. Oh and one more thing.” She waves her hands and the cuffs around your wrists fall to the floor. “I don’t know why we didn’t take them off yesterday. You have my apologies.”

“It's quite alright Miss Maximoff I am a prisoner I do not expect to be seen as any different.” Wanda hums with a sad smile.

“Hopefully you won’t be for too long.” You don’t say anything in return simply laying back down on the bed listening to the distinct click of the door as you close your eyes. 

It feels like it's been 5 minutes since you closed your eyes when you're startled awake by a crashing sound outside of the cell, sitting up straight with your eyes assessing the threat. You relax when you see Peter picking some things up off the floor, tilting your head when you notice his laptop under his arm.

“Are you okay spider boy?” Peter freezes looking up to you with a sheepish smile.

“Yeah I’m okay, did I wake you. Oh my gosh I did wake you, I am so sorry. I will just get going and leave you in peace.” He fumbles with everything in his hand going to turn around.

“Pete, wait a sec.” You stand up moving to the glass door of the cell. “What did you come in to ask?”

“Well I was just thinking that maybe we could have a movie night. You said a movie night would help to relax me and it did, then I thought that maybe it would do the same for you. I know you're like a prisoner blah blah blah political bullshit but I mean you’re still human.” He rambles and you can’t help the smile that grows as you take in the selection of snacks he has. 

“I think a movie sounds good, but I hate to break it to you. I don't think I am going to be having snacks.” You knock gently on the glass separating the two of you. “Since I am in here and you are out there.”

“Uhm, well about that.” He stumbles to put everything on the floor, opening his laptop and connecting a wire from the panel on the door to his laptop and you watch as he clicks away on the keyboard. “And I know you don’t actually remember me, because Wanda did tell me that just in case so I wouldn’t be disappointed if I found out myself.”

“And are you disappointed?” He quickly shakes his head pressing a few more keys and the door slide opens.

“Not at all, I mean you pretended to know who I was because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings. Which is something that Y/n, well I mean who you used to be or still are but not right at this moment, would do.” The kid picks up his laptop and the snacks once more, keeping the laptop open, making his way into the cell.

“So what have you brought to watch?” You take a few steps away from the door watching as Peter presses a few buttons and the door closes again.

“Star wars. I hope that’s okay. They’re my favourite.” You smile sitting back down on the bed tapping the place next to you. 

“Well I can’t promise comfort or that because, well, we’re in a cell. But I can definitely be a good movie buddy.” Peter puts a small device on the floor, plugging his laptop into it and pressing a few more buttons. 

“It’s cool I brought a blanket in my backpack.” Peter says it with a wide smile as he pulls out a big grey fluffy blanket out of his backpack sitting down next to me and against the wall. 

“Is there a way to turn the lights off?” You shuffle back keeping a small space between you and Peter as he leans down to grab the snacks and put them in the gap, as well as turning the small gadget on the floor on.

“Friday lights off.”

“Yes Master Parker.” You jump slightly at the disembodied voice but settle quickly when you see the projection on the wall of the film. 

“That's so cool.” You smile widely as Peter throws the blanket haphazardly over your legs as you get comfortable on the bed.

“Yeah I have also wanted a big cinema like screen so I bought a projector, took it apart and made it better so it was 4K HD instead of the shit things you get in school.”

“That's a pretty freaking cool kid. You made it?”

“I did.” He beams as you look with wonder at the gadget. 

“That's amazing. So how many movies is this?”

“Well 6, but technically 9 if you watch the new ones but there's also side movies and series. But for now we will just watch the original trilogy.” 

“Do you have any pillows in that backpack of yours? Just I have a very thin one and I don’t think either of us will be comfortable leaning against the wall for too long.”

“No, but, give me two minutes and I will have a solution.” He jumps from the bed pressing his phone as the door slides open and shut. “Just stay right there.” 

“Not like I can go anywhere.” You chuckle with a crooked smile.

“Right. Anyway, I won't be any more than two minutes.”

“Take your time spidey.” Peter smiles widely walking to the main door. 

“See you later Helios.” He runs out of the room and as the door closes you are sucked into a hazy memory.

/\/\/\/\

“No, we have to come up with some super cool name for you. You can’t just go around calling yourself Y/n! You literally set things on fire, including yourself and everyone looks to the sky and goes woah there goes … Y/n.” He says your name with lack of enthusiasm and you gently hit his shoulder laughing.

“Oh sorry Mr im a teeneger calling myself Spider-man. Boy you ain’t no man.” You laugh as  Peter’s jaw drops with a perplexed chuckle. 

“I didn’t come up with it, the news did. Anyway, back to you. Maybe something like flame, or ignite.”

“Flame or ignite.” You raise your brows and Peter flails his hands around in response.

“Oh whatever, you come up with something then.”

“Me! This is all your idea spidey, all of it is you. I don’t mind my name, it's a good name.”

“It is, but it's not a good superhero name.” 

“Whatever Pete.” You gently shove him away and you burst out laughing as he ends up rolling off the bed. 

“That was rude.” You lean over the edge of the bed looking down at him smiling cheekily. 

“What happened to your Peter tingle?”

“It’s not a peter tingle, it's my spidey sense.” You hum with a chuckle. 

“Sure it is. Now up you get I want to watch this movie.” You roll back onto your space on the bed pulling the blanket over you and grabbing the remote. 

“Have you ever watched this film?” You look at the start menu shaking your head. 

“Nope, I have never watched Percy Jackson and the lightning thief.” You say the name slowly, not sure what you think based on the title.

“You’re going to love it.” He smiles climbing back on the bed next to you pulling the blanket over himself.

“We shall see.” Just as you are about to press play Peter gently hits your arms a few times. 

“I know what your name could be!” You smile widely at the excitement on his face. 

“Yeah and what's that?”

“Helios, the Greek god of the sun. The sun is fire and you are fire. So helios.” You feel your cheeks hurt from smiling so widely as you watch Peter get all excited.

“I like it.” 

“Yes! So helios, when is your next adventure?”

/\/\/\/\

“Hey I’m back.” You smile as Peter walks through the door to the cell that closes behind him, his arms wrapped around a large number of cushions and pillows and by the looks of it an extra blanket. 

“I was just about to start the movie without you.” You joke and Peter drops the things in his hands faking hurt. 

“You would never.” You chuckle, smiling.

“No I wouldn’t, especially since they are your favourite.” He squints his eyes at you slowly crouching down to pick the things back up. 

“Yeah and you probably wouldn’t know how to work that thing anyway since I made it.” He smiles smugly dumping the stuff on the end of the bed starting to organise it so you can both be comfortable.

“I have a request for the next movie night once we’ve watched all of star wars.” Peter settles next to you as you place a few cushions and pillows around you so you can have the utmost comfort.

“Sure what is it?” You smile softly as he looks at you, his brows scrunching at your small silence. “You know you’re going to have to tell me if you want to watch it.”

“Percy Jackson and the lightning thief.”

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

[chatsurie]

Exam season

It was cold. The jacket she was wearing had started to open at some of the seams letting in even more of the winter air.

With a huff the young woman looked up at the night sky before returning her gaze to the still deathly quiet street. The bus was late. Again. What would she do if it didn't end up coming. It wasn't like she could just walk the distance from this end of the city to the other. She had also decided that her next pay check would go into a new jacket. It was only January so there were still enough snow days to come.

Focusing back on the music in her ears she got out her phone to recheck the time. A quarter to midnight. Usually she'd already be at work. The bus was way late.

As she leant back against the wall of the house and turned up the music she didn't hear the sudden commotion going on behind her.

With a slight alarm in her eyes she watched as the street lamps flickered. Maybe working the night shift out of town hadn't been the great idea she thought it was. Please. That damn bus just had to come. She needed the hours. Hell. She needed the money.

Taking in a deep breath, she nearly screamed as a hand wrapped around her shoulder.

Whirling around she came face to face with a man.

A tall man.

A tall man with a slightly mean face.

A tall man with a slightly mean face who was saying something to her.

Stumbling back she quickly pulled out her headphones, the cable coming tumbling down her chest. Having made an effort to always wear them underneath her top they thankfully didn't fall to the ground.

“Sorry?” Her voice was shaking. God. Please no. This could not be the day. She wouldn't end up dead in a ditch somewhere.

In her slight panic she hadn't realised that Bohemian Rhapsody could now be heard blaring through the speakers nor that the man had looked down to them and that some of the tenseness in his shoulders had lifted.

“What's a girl like you doing in this part of city this late at night? Something bad could happen to a pretty face like you.”

Yeah, she thought. That didn't sound predatory at all.

Falling into herself even more her hand slowly wandered inside the pocket that held the pepper spray. She had never used it before. What if she ended up spraying herself? She had heard that happening to others.

“I,” she stumbled over her words, “I'm just waiting on my bus.” Please, she didn't want any trouble.

The man's face wrinkled in thought. “What bus?”

The lilt in his voice send a shiver down her spine.

“The one that,” before she could finish her sentence she could see head lights coming towards her.

Everything be damned. Even if that wasn't her bus, she would make it her own.

“That one.” She hurried saying and stepped around him to get closer to the street. Maybe that wasn't a good idea. What if he pushed her in front of it?

“Ran?!”

The young woman only now realised that the man hadn't been alone.

Next to a sports car stood two other figures. Both tall, both probably male. Yeah. It was time to get out of here.

“Have a nice evening, Sir.” She mumbled the words out before finally stepping into the safety of the bus.

Before the doors had shut completely she could hear 'Ran' calling out to the other man. Everything was apparently fine. Whatever the fuck that meant.

Massaging her heart with her cold hands she finally breathed out.

God, she needed another Job.

The following work night had nearly made her forget about the 'Ran' debacle. As she stepped back onto the bus in the morning eight hours later her back ached from the physical labour, how could carrying around parcels put your back in such jeopardy, and she had nearly made up her mind to try out the whole sugar dating thing for the sixth time in a row.

Yeah. Pride be damned. It would be nice to have someone paying for tuition and living expenses and rent.

Getting out of the dorms would be a dream come true.

Honest to God though, she knew she would never do it. She didn't have the 'cojones'. Heck, she couldn't even Sext. What guy would want her for that kind of arrangement.

Marrying rich it was, then.

Sighing to herself the young woman pulled back her shoulders and pulled out the study sheets.

She could dream once exams were over.

“I'm just saying that it was scary as shit!”

Veronica nodded in understanding, “I told you working the night shift wouldn't be a good idea with you having to take public transports. Everything could happen to you on the way. Did you at least carry the spray?”

Nodding the girl scratched her head before taking another sip of the too bitter coffee.

“If a firm would take me, you know I'd immideatly work for them. But the night shift is really good money. That's a hundred bucks more each months that isn't being taxed.”

Veronica rolled her eyes and sighed. They had had this conversation a lot lately. “Speaking of taxes,” she chose to change the subject, “How's tax law coming along?”

The young woman groaned. Of course. If it wasn't about her bad job decisions it was about her bad choice in elective.

“Still don't know why I took it and still don't know how I'm going to pass it.”

Veronica nodded mirth returning to her eyes. “Told ya, you should have taken family law with me.”

“I just thought it might be good to know, ya know.” She tried explaining her choices with a grumble.

Two weeks later and one week before exams started the young woman was at that same bus station on the other end of town.

Of course she hadn't ended up resigning. She needed the money after all.

Out of breath she stared at the retreating headlights of her bus.

That had not just happened!

No.

That had not happened. Surely she was dreaming.

She had not just missed the last bus.

Staring at the lit but retreating number of the bus she checked the information with her app once more.

Yup. That had been her bus.

The one day her first bus had been late. The one damn day, of course had to be the one her second bus was punctual.

Of course.

That was just her luck, wasn't it.

The rumble in the distance reminded her of the upcoming thunderstorm that was supposed to be on it's way.

Great.

Absolutely fucking great!

Maybe there was some kind of tram that would take her back to the Center? She just had to get to the main station. She'd be able to walk from there.

“Alrighty,” Grumbling she send a quick prayer to heaven in hopes to not be dragged through the mud by her manager when she would call them up now to tell them she wouldn't be coming in tonight. There was no way she was paying a taxi. No damn way!

As the dial rang she could only hope that it wasn't the dragon on shift tonight. God she was unbearable when she didn't take her med's.

“Hi, Reader here,” The young woman greeted the man on the phone. For once she seemed to be in luck, “I'm having a situation with the bus? My first one was late so I missed the second and frankly, I won't be able to come in tonight.”

“What about a Taxi?” She could hear him ask. She honestly had forgotten his name.

“Sorry Sir, but I'm a part timer? There's no way I can afford a taxi. I haven't even figured out how I'll get home now. If I'm lucky I'll get some kind of transportation to the main station.”

It was starting to rain.

“Thank you, I'll do that. Have a nice night.” She suppressed a groan at the thought of having to call in in the morning to explain the whole situation again to the other higher up. Why did conversation between branches never work out there?

With that she cut the call short.

Great.

“That's what I call majorly bad luck, doll.”

She knew that voice. A shiver send down her spine as she remembered the face that voice belonged to.

Slowly turning around she still kept on hoping that he was just an apparition and she was simply lying in bed with a bad fever that had her imagining everything.

Nope. There he stood.

Under the street lamp, a cigarette in one of his hands. The hand which arm, she was pretty sure, held a Rolex.

A Rolex.

In this kind of neighbourhood

It was also the first time she could actually make out his features.

The young woman had figured that he wasn't German, after all he had spoken English the last time as well. He probably was Japanese. Though that hairstyle didn't particularly fit the conservative country from what she had learned about it.

Clad in an expensive seeming three piece suite he slowly stepped towards her quickly towering over her.

He must have been at least ten years maybe even fifteen years older than her.

Fumbling with her phone, she only shrugged her shoulders in response. “Excuse me, I kinda have to hurry. I need to catch the next bus.”

The man laughed.

It was an admittedly nice laugh.

He still gave her the creeps though.

“Doll,” he was now nearly invading her private space but she still refused to take another step back like the last time, “we both know that there isn't a singly bus or train driving into the main station. Pretty girls like you really shouldn't be out at this time of night. Tell ya what, my car's right around the corner. I can drive you home.”

Now it was her time to laugh.

Sure.

Suuuuureee.

Because driving her home was his sole intention.

“No, thank you.” She now took a decided step back, ready to turn around and simply walk away. Fuck the fact that she was in a bad neighbourhood she was only ever in to walk to the station. Before she even considered stepping foot inside his “car around the corner” she'd walk the three hours home.

“Come on, why not. I'm bored, weathers picking up, let me do my one good deed per life.”

One good deed per life? The fuck kind of expression was that? Maybe he just didn't know better?

With a hammering heart she turned back around to the man. “Well for one, I was taught to never get into a car with shady strangers.”

His grin turned lopsided as if to say 'you got me there'.

The man, Ran, she remembered, took another drag of his cigarette before answering, “Name's Haitani Ran, I'm originally from Tokyo, my colleagues and me are currently trying to develop international relations with an enterprise here which is why we ended up in Germany. Neat place by the way, I love to sleep, I like fast cars, I have a younger brother who works with me. Currently I'm trying to help out this really cute doll, who looks like a deer in headlights when I talk to her. There. Now we're not strangers anymore.

The wind was picking up and the crack of thunder was slowly drawing nearer.

Right. There was a reason why walking home wasn't a good idea.

Curling up an eyebrow the young woman looked him up and down. He was wearing an expensive suit, probably drove some kind of sport scar, if the one from last time was his and was currently standing in a poor neighbourhood in front of what looked like to be a Shisha Bar. The ones people always made fun of for being mayor players in the money laundering business.

Germany was the country for Money laundering as well. She knew that the Italian Mafia still had some kind of stronghold on Germany because of exactly that.

Ran also sported a tattoo. Usually nothing to cry wolf about. At least not here. It looked different from a Japanese point of view.

Weren't tattoo's still heavily associated with the Yakuza?

Alright. Stop. She really needed to reign in her imagination. God that was a hundred per cent the fault of the coming up Criminal law exam.

She really needed some sleep.

“So,” Ran started up again, as she had remained silent for quite an amount of time now.

“No, Thank you. I'm good really. I'll call a friend. She'll pick me up. Thank you for the concern though.” Better to not make him angry by answering snappishly.

“Sure your friend is still awake?”

No, in fact she was pretty sure she was sleeping already. They had told each other good night about two hours ago.

“Yeah, she's a night owl.”

He grinned. “See, now I know you're lying, pet. You're voice just shook.”

Jesus Christ. What was wrong with that guy.

“Listen, I can just as easily call the police and ask them for an escort. Tell them I talked with this shady looking guy who I'm pretty sure isn't doing something legal. And now I'm simply so scared, and would like to be taken to the station to make my statement.”

Fuck. She hadn't meant to say that. Shit. God, she really needed to get to bed. She was starting to say really stupid shit.

He put an arm theatrically over his heart. “You wound me Doll. I'm not a Yakuza. That's pretty prejudiced. Not every Japanese guy with a tattoo is a criminal.”

And usually she would agree with him.

Usually she wouldn't have a damn problem with a tatted guy.

But usually her stomach wouldn't tell her to run as fast and far from this guy who stood before her for the second time now with the most relaxes posture she had ever seen in someone.

Something was wrong with him.

She could basically taste it.

“At least you still have all ten fingers.” The young woman decided to take him up on the joke, simply thankful that he hadn't reacted violent to the insult.

“Please,” he grinned his hair now starting to look kinda drenched because of the now rapidly picking up downpour, she nearly started to feel sorry for him. “The Yakuza have been out for quite a few years now.”

“That's great for them, then.”

God, how would she be able to get rid of that guy?!

“Now then. We're not strangers anymore, right? Well at least I'm not. What's your name, Doll.”

As if she would tell him that.

“I'm Rose.” She quickly improvised

Ran grinned again. “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

God damn this man.

“Thank you.” Sounding all demure nearly hurt her tongue

“You know what,” she started up after a short second, “I'm cold and you seem decent enough, I guess. Why don't you bring said car around. I don't trust you enough to follow you to some undisclosed spot and I will tell you, that my Manager did ask me to tell him, when I got home and I got a lot of friends, so my kidnapping would be notices quickly and you would be a suspect, because I told a friend about the situation two weeks ago.”

Ran grinned. There was mischief starting to gleam in his eyes.

“Don't move from the spot then, Pet. I'm trusting you here.”

Something in his voice told her he didn't trust her one bit.

“I'll be here. As you said, there isn't really a bus that would get me home anymore.” She tried placating him while his grin spread even wider and he nodded at her and started walking away.

God this man was creepy.

Just as Ran turned the corner, she started moving away.

This man was a piece of work, she would give him that.

Now what would be the street least expected?

The main one was at least lit but he couldn't very well follow the side streets in his car, now could he?

As she turned into the next street, she could hear the engine of a car. Probably his car. He'd give up now, right?

“Ya know Pet, this is honestly adorable.” His voice was infused wit laughter. Was it just her or did he sound kind of crazed?

“I feel like wanting to be nice. How about I call ya a Taxi instead. It's clear you don't trust me.”

Did his voice come closer? God. Maybe she should have taken the main street instead. It was time to pick up the speed.

“Can't really fault ya for that. You're a young woman out too late. Why even work the night shift if you don't have a car?”

She had felt his presence behind her back even before the words had fully reached her ears. One of his hands was wrapped around her shoulders and she had to admit with a startle that she couldn't move her upper body at all. How strong could one single man be.

“Look at me, Doll,” he started, using his other hand to turn her chin towards him.

She didn't know how exactly she looked at him. Most probably it was fear. In any case that's how she felt.

It didn't warrant his reaction.

“God,” he whispered, nearly quiet enough that one could thin it wasn't meant for her ears, “you're damn cute. Maybe I'll just keep you.”

Then taking a step back, the manic look in his eyes settled just the tiniest bit. “I'll give ya another deal. Tell me your real name and I'll call a Taxi. Won't even bother ya no more.”

A name for a ride, huh.

Yeah, she could do that. She just wanted out of the cold.

“You call the Taxi first.” She proceeded to negotiate while his grin spread even wider

“Consider it done, Doll.”

With that he took out his phone and she had to realize that even that seemed to be the newest I-phone.

As she listened to him talking she finally took the time to look him up and down once more.

There was something about him she just couldn't quite put her finger on. Something was simply speaking weird.

Maybe it was the cultural difference? The men in University even the professors just never seemed this well put together.

It was clean.

The clothes fit him to a tea. Nothing seemed to be even remotely out of place. There was something about him that just screamed money.

“Well then, Doll,” his attention directed right back at her pushed her abruptly out of his musings.

“How about we wait in the car? I'm not really in the mood to get even more drenched. This suit was expensive, ya know.”

Oh hell nah.

“You can wait in the car.” She squeaked out. Why would he not just leave?

He sighed, and rolled his eyes.

Then his stance changed.

Something told her that his patience for her had just snapped.

She was proven to be right, as his hand wrapped around her upper arm like a vice and she was promptly pushed towards the car.

Reluctantly she started pulling out the pepper spray, ready to use it for the first time. She would not set foot into his damned car. Consequences be damned.

One look from him made her stop. The icy stare in his eyes, the colour of which she still couldn't really make out made her drop her arm almost instantly.

In dangerous situation people always talked about how the fight or flight instinct kicked in. For her she now realised with a cold shock it was neither. She simply freezed up.

Without further ado he had her manhandled into the passenger seat of the Car.

Tonight it was a big car. Sleek and black. It screamed practicality.

With a gulp she heard the locks of the vehicle click as he walked around it to get in himself.

Was that how her life would end? Why hadn't she run? Why hadn't she kicked him in his balls? Hell, why hadn't she simply screamed.

Wasn't that unlawful detention? She was locked inside a closed space against her will after all. It should be, right?

Before the young woman could talk herself even deeper into panic she could hear the lock click again, the car opening up once more and Ran seating himself beside her.

This time the car stayed open.

“See, no reason for you to drive yourself into a frenzy. I don't intend to do anything untoward.”

Ran chuckled as if he knew of a secret that she would never be a part of.

“What do you want?!” She had hoped she'd be able to sound sharp. Interrogative. The voice she had heard fellow students make during Moot courts when they had to play the role of the Prosecutors or judges. The one where they sounded harsh and strict. Anything but panic stricken.

Ran leaned back against the seat, manspreading against the control lever

“Well, right now, I only want to know your name, Doll. Remember the deal?”

She shook her head. “That's not what I mean. What do you want with me, god damn it. Why are you doing,” she pointed around herself not really knowing herself what she was referring to.

He sighed once more, rubbing his temple and turning towards her with a smile that was surely supposed to make her feel safer.

It had the exact opposite effect. With every passing second she simply felt more scared.

“I'm honestly simply bored. I'm waiting on a call from a colleague and when I saw you standing there I thought, 'huh, this gorgeous back seems familiar'”

Her gaze almost instantly dropped to the watch on her phone. It was after midnight. He was still waiting on a call? Those were some weird work times.

But then again, who was she to judge.

“Now then, your name, please?”

With a stutter she slowly told him, earning a smile. “That's a good Doll.”

This man was infuriating. Could he stop with the damn nicknames?

“Anyways. You taxi will be here in a few. This is my card. There should be some change on there. Use it to pay the driver when you get home.”

Change? Did he know how much a taxi was? And what kind of person just gave away their card.

“What,” she cleared her throat. God that was so weird. You just didn't talk about money with strangers. It simply wasn't proper, “what do you mean Change?”

Ran shrugged, pulling out his cellphone “probs around 500 bucks maybe more maybe less? Not too sure. Haven't used it in a while to be honest. Should get you around though.”

500?

'There should be some change on there.'

Change?!

Who in their right mind called five hundred bucks Change? That was twice her rent. What the fuck?

“I'll need your paypal then, if you have something like that. I'll need to wire you the rest.”

Ran laughed but proceeded to tap away on his phone now.

What was wrong with this guy.

“God, your adorable. Keep the rest. Buy yourself something pretty.”

What. Was. Wrong. With. That. Guy?!

Had he run from some kind of mental institution? Had no one ever told him how to handle money?

Oh god, what if he was involved in some kind of Tax fraud.

And she wasn't even legally allowed to use his damn card. What if something happened? Oh god, would she spend the rest of her life behind bars for the unlawful usage of Data? How was that damn thing assessed again? Fuck what did you need? Pecuniary loss? Or was that fraud only situations. Fuck. What if they asked that on the exam and she drew a blank again. Fuck she needed to study.

The woman was halfway about ripping open her bag to pull out her material when she remembered the situation she was in.

First she needed to get back out of this damn car. Then she could worry about her exams.

“So, little lady is a law student, huh.” Ran mumbled and her brain shut down.

Was he talking about her?

He had to be talking about her.

No, he couldn't be talking about her, because she had never told him jackshit. Sure, she had given him his name, but what could you actually do with a- wait. Moot court. She had participated. She would have been in the news. Her team had been able to go to nationals.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Honestly didn't think it would be law. I had you down as an artsy airhead.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Huh, a woman with a brain. Can't say I usually go for that type.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!

“Hey, Doll. Are ya listening to me?”

How could she be this stu-

His hand was on her thigh.

Why was his hand on her thigh.

“Take it off.” She practically hissed at him, eyes trained on his lithe fingers that only seemed to grab on harsher.

“Now that I have finally gotten your attention, I'll have you know that I do not like being ignored, Doll.”

He seemed to want to say something else, when headlights of another car finally appeared. In big bold letters she could make out the illuminated Taxi sign.

“Well then. That would be yours then. See you around, Doll.” With that he leaned over her and opened the door for her, but not without one again grabbing harshly at the fat of her thigh.

When he finally slowly pulled his hand away she scrambled out of the car with a rushed thank you.

Her heart only started calming down once she was safely tucked away in the Taxi.

'See you around'. She didn't think so. She'd simply end up resigning in the morning. It wasn't worth going through that again.

The flowers started coming in the middle of her first exam week. That day she had come home completely exhausted already and had only looked inside the postbox out of habit.

She would later realise that the Rose had been stripped of its horns and something about that made her feel extra queasy. The Rose itself had promptly found its way inside the trash can. She couldn't worry about this right now. She had another four exams to write and mistakes to worry about.

On the Monday after her third exam she had pushed back her shoulders. She would not be afraid of her own damn postbox. Still she could only make herself throw a quick look inside which nearly made her miss the small note.

“Only three more to go, Doll. Take care of yourself. You're drinking too little.”

She was what?

Was he watching her?!

Out of instinct her head flew up searching the street for some car that would be out of place.

How did he know about how many exams she had to take?

In her panic she nearly crumbled the note. She couldn't though. Once exams were over she would go to the damn police and have them take over.

There were around 21.000 cases of Stalking according to the statistic centre of the bureau of Investigation. She had read somewhere that that only two percent of those cases ended up being persecuted and sentenced.

But that wouldn't happen to her. She knew his full name for God's sake.

Like that was usually the problem. Most Stalking cases were done by a person you knew directly. Most of the time the police just hadn't had enough clues to go off on.

No, she was not doing that. She was not doom scrolling. There were simply too many more important things she had to handle.

Like the tax law exam on Friday.

Yes. That was important.

She would get through the rest of the week, sleep for the whole weekend and then she would go to the police. It wasn't that deep. She thought too much and stuff like that simply didn't happen to her.

On Thursday she received her first cellphone message.

He had found her number.

'He had told her to treat herself and yet he couldn't see any other withdrawals from his card but the taxi payment.'

She had promptly taken a screenshot of the message before blocking his number to move on with her day.

That night, roughly around two am she could see her phone screen light up once more, her attention promptly being taken from the 183 paper sheets- yes she had counted them- the new message came from another unknown number.

'I don't like being ignored, Pet. But then again, I'll have enough time to teach ya.'

Teach her what? Time for what? No, they absolutely did not have time. Maybe she should actually call the police now.

That didn't sound good at all.

Taking another screenshot, she decided to take another precaution and promptly send those messages to a friend, all ready with time stamps and explanations, before deleting the forwarded one from her phone alone.

Even if something did happen, Veronica would go to the police and they'd find her if worse came to worse.

It was dark outside when she finally walked out of the campus next day.

That exam had absolutely dragged her. It was time to get shitfaced before taking up the sheets in two days again to prepare for the repeat test.

She had known that her professor had a mean streak. She hadn't expected full blown sadism! But what did she even expect from a civil lawyer.

Looking around herself she saw a few other familiar faces. A group of boys had seemingly already brought beer with them to drone out their sorrows now. That was a relatively smart decision when she thought about it.

No thinking any more though. Her brain just couldn't anymore.

First sleep, then alcohol.

Yes. That was a good idea.

On her way back to her train station, she passed the police station. Not yet having received a new message she decided on a whim that she might as well report the incident now.

Around an hour later she left it again. Even more tired than before and even more embarrassed. Why was the police so damn useless?

Of fucking course the situation was her fault, 'poor fella probably just felt like his advances had been accepted once she had accepted the Taxi money'. Yes. Of course. That sounded totally reasonable. And his last message hadn't sound menacing at all.

No.

That was just her pure imagination!

Deep in her musings she only realised the car driving in walking speed next to her, when a window was drawn down and a much too familiar voice spoke to her.

“That wasn't nice, Pet. Here I am being all patient and nice and you go snuffing to the police.”

Her blood ran cold when she turned around to him.

That could not be true. That was not her luck. She was supposed to just go to sleep god damn it. She did not have the energy.

And he knew about the Cops? Since when was he following her?

“Get in.”

She slowly shook her head, backing away in a pace that would have made sloths proud.

“Pet,” he growled, “I'm not saying it again. Get inside the damn car!”

He was waving something at her.

What was?

Wait.

She had seen that before.

Wait.

Fuck.

Hell no.

That was a gun. She had never seen a real one before, but she was pretty sure that was the real deal. But he couldn't. The police station was just on the other side of the street. Hell, she could still see it.

Ran raised a singular brow taking another breath.

This was coercion. She was not doing this out of her own free will.

The mantra repeated in her head every step she took towards the car.

This was coercion. She was under duress. It wasn't her fault.

The metal of the door in her hand was cold.

“Ata- Girl.” Ran simply grunted as he watched her get inside the seat and fastening the seat belt. The gun itself only disappeared out of her view when he shifted the gear back into driving.

“Drink this.”

He didn't even lift his eyes from the street as he pointed to a bottle with a clear liquid inside.

When she didn't make a move to grab it he threw her a sharp glare. “It's only water, pet. I told you to drink more, didn't I?”

Gulping she slowly nodded before forcing her hand to move.

After she had unclasped it she took a whiff of it. At least it didn't smell weird. Not that that meant something though.

After she took a tiny sip she made a slight show of gulping it down. Maybe she didn't have to swallow it, when he thought she had already.

At the next red stop, Ran turned to her, forcing her chin up with his fingers. “Open up.”

She didn't understand what he wanted at first, until he suddenly moved his other hand to his nose.

Without actually thinking this time, she actually swallowed.

He simply looked at her unimpressed, until she opened her mouth for him. Red hot embarrassment was crawling up her spine and settling on her cheeks as Ran inspected her mouth.

With two humiliating tabs against her cheeks he turned back to the street when he was sure she didn't have 'water' in her mouth anymore.

“Why are you doing this?” She haltingly asked after a small bout of silence.

Shouldn't her first question be what he planned to do with her?

“As I said. I was bored. Been for a while now. Then you came along and your pretty deer like eyes. Our live together will be fun, Pet. I'll just have to break you in first. We're on our way to the airport right now. If you behave well, I'll let you study Japanese once you've settled in.”

Her brain was growing more and more hazy.

Why the airport?

Why would she want to learn Japanese?

"You know, this is unlawful detention," she muttered out

The last thought that she was able to catch before sleep had finally drawn her in, was that she wouldn't be able to see her exam results.

She just couldn't for the life of her explain why she wouldn't be able to see them.

Her knee on the left side felt oddly warm. As if something lay on it.

[ladyosiriscreates]

Goodness I just read your amazing Soap one shot! So good! Could I ask for Gaz taking care of an unwell female reader (totally not based on my current situation at all)? Thank you 🖤

I kept looking at this so many times in just pure disbelief. HELLO GREATSTORMCAT I love reading your drabbles they're truly a treat to read. Also I love Gaz he is one of my favorites. Rudy Parra is also my beloved. and if you would like something NSFW from him just leave another ask/idea and I will write it because I have FEELINGS AND IDEAS.

I'm in a Sickbed, but at least it's Yours.

Gaz x Fem!Reader for the opulent @greatstormcat (3.2k words)

Tags: Illness, insecurity, fluff, comfort, so much fucking comfort, this man was made to love someone, mutual pining that just boils over,

You had known it was coming. The dregs of winter that brought along pressure drops that threatened to blow your sinuses through the rest of your head. Fever, aches, chills and the incessant fog around your head that clouded everything and led your body to exhaustion… man fuck that.

For the first few days, you thought you might be dying.

But today, you certainly wished it was so. Because surely it would be a greater mercy than whatever fuckery your body was fighting off. 

And that was what led you to now, standing in the kitchen of an apartment that wasn’t yours, wearing soft pajamas that certainly didn’t belong to you, and staring at a fridge that looked familiar- but also wasn’t yours. 

“...C’mon luv, you’ve been staring at my closed fridge door for the better part of fifteen minutes. And as fucking hilarious as it might be to see you disassociate to the hum of it, I’m half afraid you’ll keel over if you take another step.” Came a kind voice, soft laughter permeating the hazy, unpleasant fog of ick that hung around your brain. Turning your head, you met the warm, impossibly dark eyes of one Kyle Garrick. Your long term friend.

Friend.

Why had he always been just a friend?

You two had revolved around each other from the moment you met, always within each others orbit though barely ever colliding.

For that matter… how had you gotten here? And when?

“Gaz?” You slurred, voice light as you grabbed onto the counter. “Don’t think I’m home right now.” Gentle arms encircled your body, coaxing you into his chest despite your weak protests. “No you can’t, ‘m sick, and if you get sick i’m damn near certain your team’ll hunt me for sport. And I promise that is not how I’d like to be hunted.”

But your protests fell on deaf ears as you were lifted into his arms. Which seemed to be for the better with how the room spun as he did. “S’alright, I’m on leave for the next two weeks anyways. I can afford a little bit of sickness. But I believe you when you say you’re not home.” He teased. “Not a whole lot goin’ on in that pretty little head?”

“Well it fuckin’ hurts.” You retorted with a scoff, arms easing around his shoulders as you nestled into the crook of his neck. The gentle scent of mint and earth churned at your senses, weaving their way through your stuffed sinuses to bring comfort to your humming mind. “You think my head is pretty?”

“That’s what you got out of that?” Kyle chuckled in return, shaking his head as he took you past the threshold of his own bedroom and laying you against his bed, sitting at its edge. But you didn’t let go. Like a lifeline you clung to his neck, keeping him bent over you before pulling your head back to meet his gaze.

Perhaps it was the soft light cascading through the window, pale gold in the setting sun, but he shimmered in your vision- elegance and refined beauty. “...If I were more selfish a woman, I’d tell you what I’m thinking.” you whispered, eyes flitting in a triangle between his own eyes, and the lips that were now pursed.

“If I were more selfish a man, luv, I’d keep you in this bed- my bed, and never let you up from it. But maybe that’s just your fever talking…” He soothed, reaching up to untangle your arms from his shoulders and laying you back down. When you protested, he cupped your cheek, thumb rubbing small circles into the feverish skin. “You don’t know how worried I was when you texted me.”

Your brows furrowed, lips parting slightly as you glanced around. “I… texted you?” Surely not- but actually… where was your phone again?

“I’m not sure what you were trying to say, but the words help, medicine and sick were all in it. And all misspelled. You had me worried, and the state I found you in wasn’t much better. Laying under a heap of blankets and groaning to yourself about how death would be better than this?” He teased, but beneath the lighthearted nature, even now you could see it, that concern. The genuine care he possessed. Selfishly, you wished it was only for you.

“So you came?” you asked, unable to hide your own surprise.

“Of course.” Gaz whispered, huffing out a small laugh. “I always come when you call. Kinda wish you’d call more, sweetheart.” 

Finally, you allowed yourself to surrender back into the softness of his bed, suddenly enveloped by an almost overwhelming sense of him. “I have a fever.” You explained quietly.

“Yes, I know this.” he replied.

“I’m hoping it’s high enough I won’t remember this tomorrow, depending on how it goes.” You muttered, lifting a hand to drag across your congested and stuffy nose- what a great way to start things. “...I hate you. No. wait. No, that's definitely not right.” You scoffed, clenching your jaw. “I hate… when you’re not around. I hate being apart from you. I hate the way you make me feel when I know you’re just being kind and genuine. I hate wanting you more than a plant craves the sun-”

Kyle’s eyes grew wider as you spoke, these words the clearest to fall from your tongue since he’d picked you up this morning. And though it seemed you weren’t done speaking, he carefully stole your hand from your face, placing your fingertips to his lips for a moment. “My turn?”

“Your turn.” came your reply, meek beneath the sudden warmth of his voice.

“I hate being apart from you too. I hate feeling like we’re in this dance but always with different partners, and at most I can catch your eye from the other side of a ballroom- but your card is always full and I’m never sure if there’s more room for me.” He hummed, massaging your palm as he held your hand delicately within his own. “I hate that you keep me at arms length because you’re afraid of seeming weak, that the world has made you so afraid to be vulnerable- while you still crave the ability to be so.”

His words floated through your sick-addled brain, finding yourself eager to drown in the sound of his voice. “It’s hard..”

“I know luv. But I want you to let me in. I want to be there for you. I’d drop everything and run if you called my name for even a moment.” He promised, reaching up to push sweat slicked strands of hair from your face.

“I’m a mess.” You argued.

“Then let me help you clean it up. I’m by no means perfect either, as much as you might try to put me on a pedestal. Seeing each other clearly is the best thing we could do, because…  I… I want more. Maybe I always have. But falling into step with you is easier than falling into anything else.” he exclaimed, glancing toward his window at the golden light that began to fade, growing warmer as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. “I won’t say I can fix you, because I don’t fucking think you’re broken. The fact you’re still here is proof of that.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, the feeling dulled by the fog of exhaustion that had snuck its way around your body. “Am i dreaming?”

“Do you want to be?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“...I don’t know. I’m scared.”

“Me too, but honestly- I’m more terrified of going through life wondering what this could have been if I hadn’t told you.” Kyle admitted, his weight making the bed dip, your body rolling slightly in towards him.

“Kyle…” you breathed, forcing your eyes open, desperate to meet his. “Tell me again when I wake up in the morning. Promise me it isn’t a dream then… because if you say it again, I’ll believe you. God, I want to believe you.” You exclaimed, voice pitched as your lids fell heavy again. “My walls have always been made of glass when it came to you… and you, fucking… stupid, handsome, pure as sunlight you… carried a hammer with you all along.”

Kyle nearly gawked in return, your words painting a most vivid landscape and technicolor sky. A lilac sunrise when he hadn’t known purple was his favorite color.  “Luv, I’ll tell it to you every day until you have no choice but to believe it. So for now, sleep. I’ll bring you back some medicine and warm ginger tea…”

“But… you don’t even like tea?” you mumbled, a bit of surprise coloring your tone.

“Yeah, but I like you. You’d be surprised at the pieces of you I keep with me when I wasn’t able to have the real thing.” He explained, resting a hand atop your head so that he might soothingly stroke at your hair, the repeated notion lulling you into slumber. “...but I’ll admit none of it compares to having you here and now.”

When morning came there was a soft weight on your chest- warm, but not unpleasant. Different than the weight of stuffiness and congestion, of the phlegm and cough that had been plaguing you. As your eyes opened and you shifted up to prop yourself on an elbow, you found Gaz beside you in a chair, his head resting on your hip as he slumbered. It couldn’t have been comfortable, draping himself over the edge of his own bed. But like a flood the memories returned, gentle touches and words spoken beneath a setting sun. Every piece of him draped in gold and idolatry.

You pressed your hand to his cheek, before turning your head into your shoulder and coughing. Not truly the way you would have preferred it, but the end goal was the same as he lifted his head, giving you a dizzying smile as he pushed himself up on his arms.

“Mornin’ sweetheart. Get some better sleep last night?” He hummed, voice a bit warmer and gravelly than usual.

For once you’re happy that you don’t currently possess a hold of all your mental faculties,  as otherwise you very well may have jumped him right there. But instead, like a reasonably more dignified moron, you found yourself nodding. “...I’m in your bed.”

“Astute observation skills, you should be a detective with that level of perception.” He taunted, reaching to the bedside table and bringing back a mug of now cooled, half drank tea. “It’ll be bitter as hell, but let’s get a bit of fluid into you before you try to get up, sweetheart.”

“Kyle, I'm in your bed.” You stressed again. 

“Yes and it’s about time, really.” He sighed, grin cheeky as he watched you go through phases of surprise and confusion. “Alright, alright, calm down Inspector Gadget. You’re gonna give yourself an aneurysm thinking that hard.”

With a steady hand you stole the mug of tea, that even cold, you could tell was your favorite, made just the way you’d prepare it- how long had he known such fine minutiae of your being. How long had he been memorizing the way you existed so he could mimic it for your comfort. “...am not.” You muttered, giving him a half-hearted withering glare over the mug of tea.

The bed dipped again as he sat upon it, pulling you forward by your shoulder before pressing his lips to your forehead. Time itself seemed to suspend, small bits of dust hanging in the air as you relished in the feeling of soft lips and a gentler hand upon your forehead. “I think your fevers finally broken… which makes sense, you seem a bit more with it this morning. I’m relieved.”

Dumbfounded, you lifted your gaze to his lips as he pulled back, before finding their way ever higher to meet the amused deep brown eyes that could churn you like the earth itself. “I feel a bit better today.” You finally admitted, finding your voice again- as thick as it was. “I can probably head home-”

“No.” He exclaimed, shaking his head. “Shoulda known the first thing you’d try to do is free yourself like you think you’re a burden at my side.” Kyle sighed, clenching his jaw for a moment before standing up. Fear struck you, like a white hot iron at your spine. You didn’t want him to leave.

The fear was only present for a moment before you were lifted by your hips and pushed back against the headboard, Kyle climbing atop the bed to straddle your waist and pin your shoulders. “I need you to pay attention, sweetheart.”

Inhaling sharply, you could do little but nod, meeting his gaze with wide eyes and blown pupils. If you weren’t still sick, the places your mind went would trail ever darker. Even now, you could imagine the feel of his lips attacking every sensitive spot from your throat to inner wrist.

“You told me I had to tell you this again, and I should have known you were serious.” He exclaimed, one hand climbing until he cradled your chin between his thumb, pointer and middle finger. “I’m in love with you- and trust me, falling in love with one of my best friends hadn’t been the plan, but God above it was so easy. You are so easy to love, not just for the positive attributes you put on display for everyone, but for the pieces of yourself you show me when we’re alone. For the way you allow yourself to crumble and break just a little bit when you’re with me. For being my safe space. So yes, I meant it last night when I said I wanted you to stay and be with me. Because I’m in love with your dense ass. Just like you’re in love with me. I hate being apart from you. And I hate that we overthink ourselves into these goddamn ruts and it’s kept us apart for even longer than-”

His words were more than enough, but the mounting desperation in his voice, his gaze was enough to spurn you, hands reaching up and cradling his cheeks. “You’re right.” you interrupted softly. “I’m in love with you. Your diligence, your determination… I love all of it, Kyle. When we’re out with friends all I care about is seeing you, because if you’re enjoying yourself then I feel like I can enjoy things too. You make my soul sing, and when it does it’s just trying to mimic whatever you’re humming.”

Kyle’s face broke into a grin, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he pulled your forehead to his. “We’re idiots.” He admitted. “Took us far too long to get here.”

“What matters is that we got here- and I-” unceremoniously the moment was shattered as you abruptly turned away and coughed, groaning through the interrupted moment. “Fuck.”

“You fuck?”

“I take it back, I hate you.” You groaned, hearing the musical rumble of his laugh as he let up off of you, popping out two pills from the packaging on the bedside table. 

“No you don’t.” Kyle teased, taking a sip from your mug and tossing the pills into his mouth before grabbing your chin and inclining your head. There was barely a moment to question it before you were met with the feeling of lukewarm tea and medicine pouring past your lips. It was nearly seamless, only a few droplets slipping from your lips as you swallowed back the tea. But for a moment, you both lingered there, the taste of ginger and orange stinging at your lips before leaning into him, unwilling to part with what you’d finally found.

No, you didn’t hate Kyle Garrick. There was little he could do to truly anger you, so hating him was out of the question. He accepted your surrender by wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer into his arms as he deepened the kiss. It was warm, making up for lost time. Like two galaxies finally collapsing into each other and spinning into something beautiful and new. You didn’t part until you were breathless, which was unfortunately much sooner than you would have liked.

“You’re gonna get sick.” you whispered.

“If that means I get to stay in bed with you for the rest of my leave, I think it’ll be worth it.” He promised, slowly slumping over onto his side before drawing you into his embrace. He massaged slow, soothing circles into your lower back, his other hand keeping your head tucked against his chest. “I made some soup for you last night, pots on the stove so I can get it simmering again soon.” Kyle murmured. “Stay with me? Ride this out- just stay for the rest of my leave?”

Your laugh, as small as it was, seemed like true music to his ears. A heavenly chorus to a man who hadn’t believed in years. “I’ll stay. Maybe I’ll get the turn to play caretaker once you get sick from kissing me, dumbass.”

“All part of the plan.”

“There’s no plan, Kyle.” You snorted, though your gaze was warm and soft as you both stayed trapped against the sheets.

“Well… just existing with you is good too.” He promised, lips turning up as he brought your foreheads together.

The next two days were spent in a most confusing sort of reverie. Anytime you moved, Kyle shadowed you, his hands covering and guiding yours. Grabbing things before you could think to want them, even carrying you from his bed to his couch as he bundled you up before situating himself beside you. He kept you hydrated, setting timers for your meds and keeping you nearby when your weakened body slept. But as your body grew stronger, the telltale signs of illness began to take their toll on Kyle.

You laughed, as three days later you were nearly normal, and he was standing in the kitchen, head bowed and lips pouty as he looked at you beneath thick lashes.

“I did warn you.” You chastised, moving forward to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“No regrets.” He grumbled, spinning you in his arms to rest his head atop yours, and keep his hands on your waist. “Think of it as a return on investment.”

“Then I guess we’ll be investing forever, hm?” You teased, chuckling softly as you allowed your weight to lean back into his.

“Rich in love and rich in life… I love you.” Kyle sighed, somehow looking forward to the rest of the week and a half ahead of them, even with the misery of illness looming over him.

“I love you too, forever and always.” You promised.

“Forever and always.”

[docholligay]

I don't know if you have any thoughts on Murakami, but would you read What I Talk About When I Talk About Running? I'm just starting it but I feel you would have many thoughts on it

I've never read Murakami, but I had a friend read this book and suggest it to me. I might actually end up reading it! This sounds like a slam, but honestly, sometimes it takes me years to read a book, even though I read, for the average person, quite a few books. It's just a matter of me having access to the book at the right time and what I'm looking to read and can I get a cheap copy and an otherwise annoying internal algorithm. I read both Wintering and Lovecraft Country this year, and the folks that sent them to me must have done it AT LEAST more than a year ago.

ANYWAY, I've never read Murakami because I've heard he just...LOATHES women. That doesn't make him not a good writer, or unworthy of reading--whatever anyone on the internet says, Hemingway was a great writer and a massive fucking influence on not on the American canon but Western Literature on the whole, and I can say that despite HATING his influence on the canon--but it does mean that I may not necessarily WANT to read him. This dovetails with my occasional reticence to read Japanese writers or watch Japanese movies, as sometimes on this area of the internet Japanese media can be a bit of a sacred cow. Less so now than it used to be though.

But I love running, and I love thinking about running, and why people do it. it's a strange sport. It's a very solitary sport. It's so MENTAL in so many ways, especially the longer the distance. And I somehow doubt he can come up with a female character whose role annoys the shit out of me in a memoir about running.

All that being said, I HAVEN'T ACTUALLY READ THE MAN'S WORK. So he could just be like...a Stephen King problem, and not a Alan Moore problem, you know what I mean by that delineation? They both write women badly, but I think Alan Moore legit fucking hates women. I think King is bad at writing them.

[themculibrary]

Enemies to Lovers Masterlist 3

part one, part two

15 Things to Do in NYC If You've Been Stuck in an Ice Berg for 70 Years (ao3) - gogglor steve/tony T, 39k

Summary: Tony and Steve can't stand each other, but they agree for the sake of the team and the people that rely on them that they have to figure out a way to get along. So they come up with a plan to spend time together, in the form of a Buzzfeed listicle of things to do in New York City.

Because if you go to enough museums with the guy you can't stand, you should eventually stop hating him, right?

Come for the slow burn, stay for everyone's opinions on Cats the musical and a story about teenage Tony stealing an ice cream truck in an attempt to get laid.

A Treasured Guest (ao3) - 27dragons bucky/tony T, 18k

Summary: Despite all of Tony’s genius, the warband known as the Avengers has conquered Tony’s hometown. When the town’s stores fall short of the tithe the Avengers demand, Tony volunteers to become part of the tribute, enslaving himself to the Avengers’ warlord to save the townspeople from starvation. He braces for the worst, but neither the Winter Soldier nor the Avengers are what he’s always been told they would be.

Checkmate (ao3) - starbunny steve/bucky T, 33k

Summary: Bucky Barnes was a SHIELD agent who had to be put on leave after an unfortunate incident during a mission left him temporarily Gift-less.

Steve Rogers was a cold, bitter man who had a history and a strong penchant for hating SHIELD agents.

Both were just minding their own business when they suddenly bumped into each other on the street. Needless to say, things did not go well.

(Also the meet-ugly AU with a sprinkle of magic and a whole bucket of angst)

Gone Before Light (ao3) - Laily loki/stephen G, 2k

Summary: Kisses stolen and given in secret may be bitter but Stephen will keep on stealing, and Loki will keep on giving…as long as Stephen does not ask him to stay.

Healing Heart (ao3) - scottxlogan bucky/tony T, 13k

Summary: After facing a dangerous threat to his future Tony reflects on the five times Bucky rescued him through their time spent together as they evolve from enemies to lovers along the way. Meanwhile Bucky reflects on the one time that Tony rescued him and turned his world around.

heed the path that led me to that place (ao3) - Fluffypanda steve/tony T, 6k

Summary: When SHIELD hires Tony for a mysterious project, he ends up embroiled in a secret conflict that intertwines with his past in more ways than one. However with no one at SHIELD is happy to have him there, especially the former Captain America, Tony has to prove he has what it takes to fight this battle.

Hold Me Like a Grudge (ao3) - Gryffindancer darcy/loki E, 12k

Summary: Darcy and Loki hated each other. Like visceral, deep, serious hate. Turns out, that type of energy has a way of building until it explodes.

Enemies to… well, “lovers” is a bit of a strong word.

it’s all my fault that i'm still the one you want (ao3) - cyanica sam/bucky G, 1k

Summary: Sam spoke first, lips rosy and slick, just close enough to Bucky’s own for him to feel the warm air brush against his cheek. "Damn,” he breathed, “you’re a lot more concussed than I thought."

Or there’s a different kind of hate in hating Sam Wilson, Bucky thinks as Sam washes his hair, that maybe isn’t really hate at all.

lane lines (ao3) - sparkagrace steve/bucky M, 132k

Summary: Steve Rogers has spent his entire life swimming and now is poised to take the Wakanda 2024 Olympics by storm. The only thing he’s missing is a friendly rival to help get him there. Enter Bucky Barnes, who doesn’t seem to take the sport quite as seriously despite his raw and enviable talent.

Steve hates him. Bucky doesn’t care. That makes Steve hate him more.

- aka: the Olympics swimming AU that nobody but me asked for

Love is a Dagger (ao3) - TallGlass sam/bucky, wanda/vision, tony/pepper E, 6k

Summary: It started in Europe. Sam found Bucky, they fought, they fucked, they never talked about it.

Mine (ao3) - LupusDragon loki/tony M, 2k

Summary: Another day, another fight between Loki and the Avengers. Only, this one is different, and Tony thinks he knows why.

Modern Warfare (ao3) - Kayah371 loki/steve T, 12k

Summary: Due to an unlucky series of events Steve and Loki end up stranded together across the galaxy, captured by the Collector.

While trying to escape together Loki learns that he may not be the only one good at tricks and Steve realizes that the shield is not his best weapon.

Payment Plan (ao3) - Nny bucky/clint T, 6k

Summary: "What did I do to you?" he asks rhetorically, batting the knife away with the frying pan, the screech of metal scraping against metal squawking feedback through his aids. He doesn't think he's met the guy before, but it's not unheard of that he'd piss of someone he's never met. It's the kind of thing he'd do.

playing nice (ao3) - ghoultown wanda/vision E, 214k

Summary: “What’s your name?” she asks.

He opens the door wider in reply.

Wanda doesn’t move.

The man bends to root through a cupboard instead.

“I don’t have anything in,” he reaches into the shelves, half of him disappearing inside, “Not much to offer you in the way of hospitality.”

“Yeah,” she studies him, rubbing her fingers together. “Ghosts don’t drink, do they.”

A bottle of cheap liquor. He tosses it a bit in his hand, turning it, inspecting it, grinning at the label.

“Think I’m a ghost, do you?”

-

Following a sudden appearance of a strange red power, Wanda begins killing men to take the edge off. Her first kill in London doesn't go as she'd hoped.

Still Holding On (ao3) - kittyhazelnut loki/tony T, 129k

Summary: "I have built dozens of holes in this plan," Loki hisses. "Find them."

When Loki tries to sabotage his own plan, the only reasonable explanation Tony can think of is that he wants to go back to Asgard, and that alone is more than enough reason to keep him on Earth. Tony reluctantly agrees to keep Loki in Stark Tower just long enough for Thor to talk to his father about how to proceed.

His visit ends up lasting much longer.

then again, maybe not (ao3) - gutsforgarters steve/bucky M, 4k

Summary: Steve shifts his weight. “Alright. What do you want?”

The Soldier sticks out his chin, defiant. “A kiss.”

This, Steve thinks, may not be the weirdest day he's ever had, but it is definitely, definitely, a very heavy contender.

The Safer Course (ao3) - seapigeon steve/bucky M, 7k

Summary: When Steve moves to the suburbs in 2033, he intends to retire from superhero life.

He does not intend to fall in love with his pain-in-the-ass neighbor.

The Sweet Escape (ao3) - AndySkull loki/sylvie E, 50k

Summary: Sylvie's attempt to bring down the Assassin's Syndicate is frustrated by their latest addition, Loki, who instead of finishing the job, takes the opportunity to run away from the Syndicate and tag along with Sylvie, the rogue assassin he was sent to kill.

They'll need to work together for survival, and to bring down the Syndicate while discovering new found feelings for each other.

Wednesday (ao3) - Mermaid_in_space tony/stephen M, 25k

Summary: Tony fights Strange and his weird wizards on a regular basis. So when he is woken up by Jarvis and being told Strange is sitting in his kitchen, waiting to talk to him, Tony just knows that something is not right. What he does not know yet is that it will be a string of very long days.

We're in this Together (ao3) - zenkitty555 stephen/karl T, 50k

Summary: Stephen Strange comes back to a very different Earth than the one he left. Now he has to pick up the pieces, but finds himself coming face to face with a friend turned foe. As they both try to figure out where they fit in one another’s lives, they find themselves on a path they must walk together.

[n0phis]

very important question: opinion on birds, specifically chickens?

OH MATE I HAVE . I HAVE SO MANY OPINIONS ON CHICKENS SPECIFICALLY. I WORKED AT A POULTRY FARM FOR A WINTER AND OH MAN. YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT KIND OF HELLISH CAN OF EGG YOU'VE OPENED UP

(tldr i love them so so so so much theyre so fucked up)

tw for descs of gore, cannibalism, animal death (real life) under the cut!

it all started for me as a child. i was just starting to develop and hone my prey drive,

and our neighbors had free-roam chickens. my days were spent outrunning chickens and grabbing them like burger, carrying them around until i saw another to grab. they hired me to collect eggs many times but the main appeal was getting the chickens in enclosed spaces to grab them easier. i held them gently. 10/10, an important childhood memory.

NOW fast forward uh.... give or take 10 years to my farmhand job over quarantine (the place was also a big cat & raptor rehab but that was neither here nor there). the shit i fucking learned about chickens there. here are just a handful of the excerpts, in no particular order

chickens are better mousers than cats, in every imaginable way

chickens may eat feed and insects, but in their hearts, souls and minds they are carnivorous predators

a chicken can swallow a live mouse whole in about 2.5 seconds

if you step on an egg, the chickens will immediately flock to the noise and devour the egg until it is gone

..if you step on an egg, collect every other egg as fast as humanly fucking possible or they will eat them as well

quails enjoy the taste of dead quail butthole (eggbound death resulted in a halfeaten corpse to face my 8am self)

chickens will play sports with quail if they get their hands on them. no. not as teams. the quail is the ball. if the quail was less fast and stupid, it would be easier to put it back in its pen, but it is fast and very, very stupid.

make sure to only feed your chickens mice before they get their feed. if they aren't hungry, they will play with it

chickens playing with things often results in horror movie level bloodstains on the coop walls

chickens can still be picked up like burger <3

thanks for tuning in. this may not be all of it but god damn im so elated to be able to share these. this is genuinely my go to conversation starter. met my parents coworkers with a firm handshake and a 'hey, did you know chickens can accidentally be trained to go feral at the sound of an egg cracking?'

[thiswasinevitableid]

The Ballad of Bigfoot (Sternclay)

The runner up of the location poll was : A Quaint Bed and Breakfast in the Woods. It's NSFW. I asked tumblr followers to pick a follow-up setting, and they chose the universe from my Lonesome Moth western AU

The morning after losing his left eye, Joseph thinks about quitting. 

Seven years later, he finally pulls the trigger and resigns from his post as a U.S Marshall. 

A day after that, he’s on a train headed Northeast towards Wyoming, carrying an advertisement from one Mr. Capra saying the small town of West Yellowstone is in need of a sheriff. When he’d wired two days ago, someone had confirmed that the position was still open. Too remote and strange for many people’s liking, apparently. 

Forty-four’s no age to start again. But it’s this or grow more miserable with each passing year. 

The line ends at his destination, the town clustered among the hills and laid out along the roads as if placed there by someone playing with a model train set. 

City hall is not much bigger than the surrounding buildings, though it sports some stunning wood carvings on either side of the front entrance. 

The interview is perfunctory, Mr.Capra and the mayor, a blonde woman going by Mrs. Little mainly trying to be sure he’s who he claims to be and that he understands just how isolated the town becomes once fall fades to winter. 

When he’s signed the papers saying he’s now the sheriff, Mr. Capra asks if he needs to send for his possessions, as the city can arrange to pay for their delivery to town. 

“No, thank you. Everything I own I brought with me. But could you direct me to somewhere I could rent room while I look for a more permanent home?”

They both give him names of places to try, along with a warning that since it’s late summer, there are still lots of visitors to Yellowstone, making rooms harder to come by. 

Unlucky for him, this is not an exaggeration. He hunts through town for the entire afternoon and can’t turn up even a cot to sleep on. As he’s in Amnesty Lodge, the oldest building in town by far, explaining his plight to the young man behind the counter, he’s already resigning himself to sleeping in a barn for the night. 

“You could try the Willow Creek Bed and Breakfast. It’s just up the road into the woods there” he points out the window, “he only has a room or two at a time, but most folks don’t know to look there, so he might have space.”

Joseph thanks him, trudges with his trunk up the road as dusk blankets the sky. The bed and breakfast is a three-story house with lamps shining from clean windows, making the whole clearing seem homey. When he knocks on the door, he’s expecting an old man to answer, the kind who likes to have someone to tell stories to at breakfast. 

What he gets is a fucking Adonis. Broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a handsome face Joseph has to look up to see make for a dizzying combination

“Evening” Full lips smile from a coppery beard, “you looking for a room?”

“At this point I’d happily take a floor.”

“Won’t need to. Room across from mine is open. You staying for a little while or a long one?”

“I’m not sure. I found out today that I’m moving to town.”

“Let’s call it two bucks a week.”

“Done” Joseph holds out his hand, “I’m Joseph Stern.”

“Barclay” good god his hands are big, “kinda honored to have the new sheriff living in my place.”

Joseph doesn’t even ask how he knows; news travels like lighting in a place like this. As he follows his host inside, a different question floats into his mind, 

“Have we met before?”

“Might have. I was a doctor for a time, down in silver country. Patched up plenty of people on both sides of the law.” He gestures to a door on their right, “kitchen and dining room are through there; hot breakfast is at 7:30, but I leave out a few things to munch on if you sleep late. Here’s your room, washroom is attached and there’s extra bedding in the closet” Barclay wipes his neck with a kitchen rag, “know it doesn’t feel like it now, but it gets cold here come winter. Cold and boring, if you ask most people.”

Joseph glances at the bed, big enough for two, and wonders if in another life he could have shared it with someone, “I could use a little boredom I think.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

Joseph rises at six, shaves his face and combs his hair to the sound of unfamiliar birds and the rustle of leaves. He pulls on his eyepatch and walks a slow circle of his room, something he was too busy unpacking to do last night. The walls are painted a gentle yellow, the linens–and more surprisingly, the furnishings–are all a pale blue of early spring skies. Venturing into the living room, he finds the rest of the house in a similar state, cozy and well kept. 

Unless there’s a Mrs. Barclay hiding somewhere, his host has the makings of an excellent homemaker. 

Frame art hangs on each wall, some sketches in color and others in black and white, all done by the same artist. He pauses at one, Hercules with the hydra, and wonders why the hero looks so familiar. 

“Morning.” Barclay wipes one hand on a checkered apron while the other holds a wooden spoon, “breakfast will be ready soon. It’s just us today, so it doesn’t take as long.”

“It smells amazing.” He follows him into the dining room, “did you draw all these?”

“Nope. Friend of mine did. Coffee?”

“I never heard a better idea.”

Breakfast includes the fluffiest biscuits he’s ever eaten and blackberry jam sweet as a first kiss. Barclay tells him a little about the town, mentions that he might be gone some nights to help tend bar at Amnesty Lodge as a favor to Mama, the owner, and that Joseph is always welcome to stop by for some after-work relaxation. 

After his first day as sheriff, Joseph is sure relaxation is the last thing he needs. Nothing required his attention. Nothing needs it the day after, or even a week later, and he’s wondering why Mr. Capra went out of his way to mention that the job could still be dangerous. The most he’s had to do is help retrieve some horses that spooked and jumped the fence. 

His excitement comes exclusively from his lodgings, where Barclay’s practiced hospitality is gradually giving way to genuine friendliness. Tonight, he and Joseph have ridden into the park proper so Barclay can show him some of his favorite spots. 

The land around them is all sheer drops and sulfur bubbling from the earth, wolves howling in the distance and owls calling from the trees. Joseph wonders, after seeing a waterfall plummet a hundred feet, if this place was set aside purely to remind people that nature can and will kill you.

“Here we go” Barclay ties his horse to a tree, waits for Joseph to do the same before leading him over to a pool. The water is morning-glory blue, deep and so clear they can see all the way to the bottom. 

“It’s gorgeous.”

“Right? Just don’t try to take a dip; it’ll burn you and bad. You need to soak somewhere, the springs behind the Lodge are where to go.”

“I thought that was guests only.”

“I’ll sneak you in sometime.” Barclay winks at him, then turns his face up to the darkening sky and sniffs the air, “it’ll rain soon.”

“Glad I have such good accommodations to protect me…from…Barclay are there bullet marks on that rock?” He points to a stone on their right.

“Yeah. Nasty business; few years ago some boys passing through got upset with one of the park rangers for telling them not to hassle the folks who still live in the park proper, seeing as it was their home first. They didn’t take to kindly to the correcting and, uh, dragged him out here and tried to throw him in that pool. Luckily, his husband caught up with them. Uh. Lucky for him I guess. The two who survived rode outta town like the devil was after them.”

“So that’s the kind of incident Mr. Capra was referring to.”

“Guess so” Barclay unties his horse, “I mean, it is really quiet here most of the time. Once a year maybe something big happens, and we still get troublemakers coming through town.” As Joseph hops onto Nessies back he adds, “and sometimes…sometimes things get strange. Shapes in the woods don’t look quite right, whatever kills a cow seems to have carried it straight into the air, stuff like that.”

“Really?” Joseph grips his reins and hides his excitement.

“That’s what I hear. Doesn’t sound like it bothers you.” Barclay smirks. 

“No, I have to admit it doesn’t. The more I traveled as a marshall, the more I was positive I was seeing things we didn’t have explanations for. Monsters in the lakes, ape men in the mountains, all kinds of things that most people dismiss as campfire stories. But there was so much evidence sometimes, and I wanted to investigate and I never could.  Just one more reason I decided I was done with that job.” His voice bounces of the rocks and so he clears his throat and says, “what made you change from being a doctor.”

“Lots of things. Climate where I was got a little too hostile to some folks for my taste, and at the end of the day I prefer cooking to blood and guts. Cooked the Lodge for a long time before we bought Willow Creek and Mama suggested I make the place my own. It suits me.” He smiles, “Guess I like looking after people. Always have.”

A big heart and a beautiful smile. If Joseph gets out of his time at the B&B without falling like a tree in a storm, it’ll be a miracle.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------

Two weeks into his new job, Joseph locks the sheriff's office and turns to cross the street. There, on the opposite corner, is a man in conversation with Aubrey, the mayor’s wife. A man with silver hair and red glasses perched on an angular face. 

He’d know it anywhere. 

When he gets to Willow Creek, Barclay is scanning the paper in his easy chair, reading glasses on his nose. 

“Barclay, I don’t want to worry you, but are you aware the outlaw Indrid Cold is in town?”

Barclay chuckles and turns the page, “People make that mistake now and then. Indrid Cold the outlaw died in a gunfight, years ago. That Indrid Cold is an artist; did all the stuff on the walls.”

“Did he…” Joseph muses, crossing to the illustration of Hercules. He has seen that face before. 

“I remember now, We have met. You were with Duck Newton when he brought the evidence to exonerate himself and prove that Indrid Cold hadn’t murdered one of my fellow marshalls.”

Brown eyes regard him for a long, long minute. Then Barclay folds the newspaper and sets it aside, “Yeah, that was me. Mama too.” He removes his glasses, tucking them in his front pocket, “And there’s no point in trying to convince Indrid isn’t who you think he is. Quite frankly, I don’t feel like insulting your intelligence that way. He gave up that life a long, and mean long, time ago. He’s not a threat to anyone in town, and he’s my friend, so if you’ve got any bright ideas about trying to arrest him on old warrants, think again.”

“Understood.” 

Joseph is still thinking about whether he’s morally obligated to arrest the former outlaw the next evening. He’s taking the scenic route back to his room when a black-clad figure falls into step beside him. 

“Good evening, sheriff. It is nice to see you again.” Indrid Cold’s voice is looking-glass smooth. 

Fuck. Did Barclay tell him that Joseph recognized him? 

“There’s no need to be alarmed.”

“If memory serves we didn’t exactly part on good terms.”

A sharp laugh, “True. All the same, I bear you no ill will. If I held a grudge against everyone who ever arrested me, or tried to, it would be a waste of my precious time and interfere with my marriage in more ways than one.”

“I still doubt you followed me just to say hello.”

“An apt conclusion. I remember you being a man willing to admit he was wrong. So I ask that you employ that same capability to whatever conclusions you have drawn about my being here. I followed Duck here to continue building our life together. This is my home, my people, and I will never harm it. Nor allow others to. And without putting too fine a point on it, I repaid whatever debts I owed to society. Ask Barclay if you do not believe me. Do we have an understanding?” He extends his hand, every inch the gentleman save for his smile, where a glint of his old self remains. 

Joseph has nearly died on many pointless hills. He’s not interested in adding one more to the list. 

“We do.” He shakes cool fingers. 

Cold gives a slight bow of the head and turns back toward town. Then he pauses and turns back to say, “Barclay’s birthday is next Monday. He is very fond of the morning buns from the bakery.”

Joseph raises an eyebrow, bemused, but nods, “I’ll be certain to get up early that day.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------

Sylphs age slower than humans. One Sylph year is between three and seven for humans. Even with that, Barclay is now middle aged by both standards, grey shining in his beard and in the fur of his chest, depending on which form he takes. 

Funny, then, that he feels younger than he has in decades. And all because a certain sheriff is still sleeping under his roof. 

That Joseph Stern is handsome is obvious to anyone with eyes and sense. This casual observation didn’t give way to desire until he saw the human practicing his marksmanship a few days after moving to town. He lined up rows of empty tin cans on a log behind the house and then shot them down without missing his mark once. Then he reloaded, switched hands, and repeated the feat. Watching from the kitchen window, Barclay had a sudden urge to fan himself. 

Tonight, he’s feeling much the same way. 

Joseph is leaning on the bar at Amnesty Lodge, chatting with Moira. Every now and then he casts his blue eye over to Barclay, sizing him up like a bull he fully intends to ride. The longer he’s in town the more confident he becomes, which has the added benefit (or curse) of him being more flirtatious with Barclay when they have the house to themselves (if there are other guests, he’s polite as can be).

“You really ought to ask him to dinner.” Indrid looks at Barclay from behind his cards

“Yep” Duck says from the rocking chair where he’s whittling what looks to be a boat hull, “you’re clearly moonin’ over him. And he’s decent enough that he even tracked me down to apologize for setting a posse on me all those years ago. Meant it too.”

“You think he’d say yes?” Barclay raises. 

“Of course. In all futures he agrees to it. And in the majority the night ends with at least one kiss, if not more. Ah, it seems I win again.” He lays down a full house. 

“Remind me again why I play this with you?”

Moira excuses herself and Joseph raises his glass in goodnight. Now’s his chance. 

Just as Barclay reaches him, three men shove open the doors, pistols drawn. 

“Nobody move. We’re here to relieve this fine establishment of all its currency.” The leader makes straight for Barclay, who already has his hands in the air. 

“You heard me, big man,” he rests his elbows on the counter, “get to it or I’ll make some holes for the worms.”

“Of course” Barclay moves to the cash drawer. The robber tips his pistol back with a grin. Then two of his teeth scatter on the bar as Joseph grabs his wrist with one hand and decks him with the other.  Two more shots land two more pistols on the floor and two robbers bleeding from their hands. 

“Jake, please go get deputy Owens. Thank you.”

Joseph keeps his gun trained on the robbers until back-up arrives, at which point he turns to Barclay, the first flicker of worry on his face, “Are you okay?”

“Incredible. Have dinner with me? As a thank you?”

“As soon as I’m done with work, big guy.”

—-------------------------------------------

The first snow comes the week before Halloween, which strikes Joseph as unfair since the town supposedly celebrates Halloween in elaborate ways. 

There are no guests, and none coming any time soon, since the snow has closed off the roads. That means there’s nothing for him and Barclay to do but tidy the inn, play chess, and keep the fire going. 

As night falls, they’re tied at two games each, and Barclay suggests they settle in with a warm drink by the fire for a change of pace. Joseph concurs, unfolds the blankets and feeds the fire as Barclay moves through the kitchen.

He raises a hand to fidget with the strap of his eyepatch and finds it’s not there. Right, he’s taken to wearing it less around the house, as Barclay has never batted an eye (hah) at how he looks without out it

“You can ask about it if you want” Joseph, seated in the washroom, lets Barclay clean mud from his face after the two of them had to help Vincent round up the goats that escaped from their pen. 

“I mean, I figured it came from something that happened when you were a marshall.”

“Got it in one.” He sighs, “a rancher told us there was a massive cattle rustling ring in town. Turns out there was, but only because he basically ran every place in town, from the railroad to the farms, and paid people chicken feed. Folks were stealing his cows to try and make ends meet. I didn’t put that all together until too late; they’d caught me. They were afraid to kill me because it would draw more lawmen to town, so they decided to do this as a warning” he taps the patch, “reason I didn’t lose the whole eye was because they were squeamish and stopped once I started screaming.” He sighs, winces as Barclay raises the patch to clean a stray bit of mud, “I never got to tell the others what I found. By the time they let me out of bed, they’d caught and hung the ringleaders.”

Barclay brushes a thumb over the scarred patch of cheek, “I’m so sorry.”

“Here we go.” Barclay sets a mug in front of him. It’s hot chocolate, made with imported chocolate from France. Barclay only uses it on special occasions. 

It tastes divine, gets even better when Barclay adds bourbon to each glass. Soon they’re shoulder to shoulder, tipsy, as the snow sticks to the windows. The living room is like a painting in a magazine meant to sell a dream that could come true if only you bought the right table. 

A branch breaks from the snow and Barclay jumps with an alarmed yip. When Joseph doesn’t react, his friend laughs, “Man, you don’t scare easy.”

“It’s a skill of the trade. But also I have absolutely been scared.”

“Badly?” Barclay pours more cocoa from the teapot and more bourbon from the bottle into each mug. 

“Once or twice, yes. The worst…well, it was when I was chasing a kidnapping ring. Took forever to get anyone to believe that’s what was going on, but those bastards were picking off people left and right. They were white, anyone they grabbed wasn’t, and I’m positive they were selling people as ‘servants. I was trying to get two people free and the watchmen woke up and spotted me. Ended up tied up with them and, well, you can see I’m not exactly lily white.” He raises his hand, only for Barclay to catch it and hold it comfortingly to his chest, “they thought it was funny to talk about, um, sodomizing me. They even put me on one of their horses the next morning so their leader could grope me and keep talking about it the whole damn afternoon.”

“How’d you get away?”

“I ran him down with his own horse when he stopped to take a piss.” 

“Holy fuck.” 

“That was enough cover to get his gun and take care of the others. It…was not pretty.”

“Whole thing woulda scared me outta my mind.” Barclay scoots closer.

“It was the being sold part that really scared me. I mean, being fucked would not have been fun, but I’d be lying if I said I’d never fantasized about being taken after someone got the upper hand on me. Wait” he looks at Barclay, “is that how Duck and Indrid first, you know…”

“No idea.” Barclay giggles, then sighs and leans into the corner of the couch, “sometimes I really envy them. Loving each other all those years, no matter what, being faithful through every fucking thing…no one ever loved me that much. Which isn’t, I, I get that most people don’t have that kind of love, but” he turns warm brown eyes on Joseph, “you know how you said you quit because you were afraid of dying without experiencing all the other things you wanted? I’m afraid the person for me is out there but I’ll never find them. I’ll make a home for everyone but myself.” He gestures to the inn around them. 

It’s not liquid courage so much as liquor drowning out the last of his doubts that makes Joseph lean forward and bring their lips together. 

“You could make it with me. At least for a little while?”

“Yes” Barclay pulls him down onto the sofa, presses him to the back of it on his side, kissing him like he’s never tasted anything as sweet as his lips. Then there’s a little growl and he says, “there’s, there’s just one more thing I need to tell you. But you have to promise to stay calm.”

“I swear.”

Barclay slips a woven bracelet from his wrist. Suddenly his legs jut over the armrest, black claws prick Joseph's skin, and the face staring adoringly at him has more hair than just a beard. 

“Ohmygod.”

“So, uh, this is how I was born looking.”

“You’re one of the apemen!” His mind bubbles with delighted curiosity.

“Technically I’m a Sylph-”

“What’s a sylph? Are they all like you? Are the other things I’ve seen Sylphs too?”

Barclay pouts, “See, this is what I was afraid of. You’d get too distracted and stop kissing me.”

Joseph is powerless in the face of such pleading eyes, “Where are my manners?”

Barclay lets out a rumbling purr as Joseph kisses him once more, teasing his tongue between his lips and running his fingers up a newly-furry arm. 

“Tomorrow, big guy, I want to know everything.”

A loving bite to his ear, “I’ll explain it all later, baby. I promise.”

—----------------------------------------------

The snow only lets up for a few days before starting again, so Barclay spends most of his time running errands to stock up on what he needs for winter and closing up the spare rooms for the season. The rest of the time is spent next to, on top of, or inside of Joseph.

The lawman kisses him good morning and brews coffee as he cooks, listens intently and asks dozens of questions about Barclay’s past and Sylvain, and falls asleep beside him at night, half the time with a book on chest. 

Barclay wonders more and more each day why it took the universe so fucking long to point him towards the person who makes this house feel like home. There’s nothing for it now but to make up for lost time. 

Sex, so far, has been a divinely slow affair, nestled under the blankets with Joseph’s hand on his cock, or his cock sunk deep into Joseph’s ass. While they both enjoy it immensely, Barclay can’t help but feel that Joseph isn’t enjoying it as much as he could. That there’s a way to make his lover–his mate, some part of him insists–moan like the star attraction in a cheap brothel.

As he’s cleaning up the kitchen after lunch the first Sunday in November, it comes to him. 

“Joseph? Do you trust me?”

“Of course.” His human looks up from his book, relaxing when he notices Barclay’s smile, “especially when it comes to things like that.”

“Then go upstairs and put on the closest thing you have to what you wore as a marshall and lay on your stomach. I’ll be up before you know it”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Barclay takes long enough to give Joseph ample time to wonder what he’s planning. His boyfriend has preferred simple sex so far, so the request for a costume is an exciting surprise. 

When the bedroom door opens, Barclay whistles, “wow, you went all out.”

“You said to dress how I would have.” He blushes into the blankets.

“Guess I did. Boots are a surprise though.” Floorboards creak as Barclay moves toward him, “here’s what I’m thinking. I’m thinking you never got to live out your fantasy of being bested. And that I’ve been dreaming about tying you up.”

“Ohyes.”

A soft, hungry growl, “get on your elbows and knees.”

Joseph obeys, glances excitedly at Barclay when he sits on the bed with a deep blue rope in hand. 

“Had someone bring it over for me from Sylvain. Gonna feel nice and soft. Now” he loops one end around Joseph’s wrist, “close your eyes and just breathe for me.”

He does, sighing at each light touch and tightening of the rope. When Barclay is through, his wrists are connected to his ankles, even as they rest on the bed in front of him, making him feel like a bitch in heat with his ass in the air. 

“There we go.” Barclay kisses his back, “You ready?”

“Yes.” 

“Good. You need me to stop say, um, say red? Yeah lets go with that.”

The cook climbs off the bed, and a moment later a hard smack lands on Joseph’s ass. 

“Ahfuck!”

“Not quite so tough now are you, mr. government agent?”

“Fuck, fuck you, person I’ve definitely never met before.”

Barclay snickers, “You can cuss all you want. Won’t change a thing.” His boots are pulled off, then Barclay starts on the buttons of his pants, “you and me got business.”

“I have zero idea what kind you mean.” He gasps as Barclay eases his pants down and then gropes his ass.

“Guess it’s more I got business with this and the rest of you just happens to be attached.” A jar unscrews, then two, slick fingers tease his ass, “mmm, lookit this. Don’t know why you’re wasting your time chasing people like a trained dog. This is what you were made for.”

“Fuck you” he moans as Barclay presses his fingers inside, lazily fucking with him them as he traces hearts on his ass. 

“Don’t be sore because you got caught. You’re in for too much rough stuff to feel that way before we even get started.”

“I, I am for sure still a u.s marshall. You can’t talk to me like that.”

The fingers fuck him twice, roughly, then Barclay pulls them away, “Let’s get one thing real clear. This” he rubs the head of his dick against Joseph’s ass, “is the only thing you answer to from now on. And I don’t give a fuck what you were before.” He pushes halfway in and Joseph yelps, “far as I’m concerned, you’re a toy I get to use whenever I want.” The rest of his cock sinks in and Joseph moans, trying to adjust to the stretch but unable to due to his bonds. 

“Please.” It’s a feeling more than a thought, and Barclay kisses his shoulder as he slowly fucks him.

“Aww, big tough marshall is already begging. That’s real cute.” He slaps Joseph’s ass twice, “but I’m gonna make you beg even better than that. First” another slap, “I’m gonna make you beg for more. Then I’m gonna make you beg me to stop.”

He whines into the pillow as Barclay picks up the pace, slapping his ass almost carelessly, like he doesn’ care that it’s making Joseph moan louder and louder each time. 

“Fuuuuck, guess I know you didn’t sleep your way to the top, you’re so fucking tight.” Another slap, “might as well be fucking a virgin from how much you’re squealing too.”

“I am notAH, ahhhhnnyes, oh Barclay yes” He pushes his hips back as Barclay’s cock drags in just the right spot. 

“That’s it baby, take it deep, start learning to enjoy that feeling because it’s happening every night whether you like it or not because you are fucking mine.”

Joseph cums on the sheets with a gasp, which only serves to make Barclay dig his fingers into his hips and fuck him hard and fast. His boyfriend pulls out before he’s done, cumming across his ass. 

“You look good like this” a hand smears through the spattering of cum, making a mess of his skin.

“What, what happened to making me beg to stop?” Joseph teases.

Clawed fingers scrape the backs of his thighs, “Who said I was done?”

“OhmyAHfuck” He’s only taken Barclay’s cock like this once, and the stretch is so intense tears well up in his eyes even as he moans. 

His cock brushes the bed and he whimpers, body rapidly becoming too sensitive. Barclay just laughs and whacks his thigh this time, “Not my fault your human dick can only go one round.”

“It’s too much, please-”

“That’s not the magic word.” Barclay slows a moment, giving him time to say red. 

He doesn't want to, no matter how many tears are on his cheeks. All he wants is Barclay.

“Please, I’ll do anything, justAH, ahgod” his arms give out and his chest hits the bed as growls fill the air behind him.

“Say you’ll be a good little mate.”

“I’ll be a, a good little mate.”

“And that this ass is mine” claws prick both sides of it as Barclay’s thrusts speed up.

“Yes, yes, yours, whatever you want” it’s getting harder to form words. 

“Good, because what I want is to cum in it so fucking hard you’ll remember it for fucking weeks” there’s a howlgrowlpurr as Barclay pumps into him, still fucking him even as he starts to soften. 

When the pulls out, all it takes is two tugs for the ropes to fall away, allowing Joseph to roll on his back. 

“Good?” Barclay, still in his Sylph form, crawls atop him, making the needy little sounds that he’s learning are a “thank you.”

“Amazing.” He pets red-brown fur and kisses a fuzzy cheek, “you can be my outlaw any day. As long as you’re my boyfriend for all of them.”

As the wind rattles the shutters on the inn, Barclay kisses him and purrs, “I think I can handle that.