#he gets his ass into too much trouble and somehow noone puts two and two together with his day job treating civilians (and heros sometimes)

[dreamdripdistance]

ive been cooking this au for 6 months at this point but... heres my take on a quirkless vigilante!izuku au !!!!!! he ends up taking up (almost)heroism a little later than canon !!

heres some really old sketches lol. what a nice young man i hope he doesnt do vaguely criminal adjacent activities at night

[coveredinsweetpea]

HI!!! How are you? I was wondering I could request sweet pea being out late with job for Serpents & comes back to see you asleep in his trailer & he just ends up cuddling you🥺🥺🥺

HIII!!! I’m fineee, things at home have been shitty but writing this blurb made me feel better and helped me escape a bit! I really hope you like it!

-

He's rushing down the street. It's way past midnight, but he's afraid to check the time. Two busy weeks have passed, where the Serpents did everything in their power to stop the Ghoulies from terrorizing the north side, but still, they were nowhere near finished. Danger was looming at every corner, and there was no point in hiding just how annoyed Sweet Pas has gotten during this time. 

After spending 17 years of his life thinking he'd forever be alone, he finally found you. All this time, you've been right under his nose, but somehow, you didn’t see each other. Now that things were finally in place, and your relationship was the definition of a fairytale, he had to work late. Day after day and night after night. And it wasn't just the lack of time you two spent together that was bothering him, it was also the unshakeable fear that you'd get sick of all the waiting, and all the terror, all the bruises and fights. It is safe to say this is probably one of the worst times of his life. If until now he didn't mind not having anyone because he had no idea how good that could feel, the thought of losing you terrorized him beyond words. 

He curses himself as he passes yet another red light, knowing just how worried you'd get if you knew. But he can't help it. He was supposed to meet you at 8, and now the watch on his wrist is ticking away seconds past the 2nd hour of the next day. He hates himself for it.

As soon as he turns onto his street, he already allows his bike to slow down. He doesn't care anymore, as when he reaches his trailer, he just hops off and heads straight inside. Even though he's sure you're not there anymore, he's determined to get a couple of hours of sleep, and wake up to surprise you in the morning with a coffee before school. 

He's so caught up in his own head, drowning in guilt that's not even his, that he doesn't realise the door of his trailer was locked three times, not two like he usually does. He just walks inside, throws the keys off to the side, kicks his shoes in the corner of the small hallway and heads into the bathroom. For a second, he stares at his reflection. One bruised eye and a deep cut under his jaw. He was ready to let his mind wonder, but something catches his attention. 

Moisturizing cream.

"What the-" Sweet Pea mutters under his breath, picking up the nearly empty container. It takes him a few more seconds, but then he starts to notice. Your tooth brush is placed neatly against his. A few hair bands are on the edge of the sink, he sees your panda towel drying up on the hanger beside the tub, and the shower curtain is still yet. And it hits him like a ton of bricks, so there's no point in wasting any more time. He sprints out of the bathroom, only to come to a full stop by his bedroom door. Sweet Pea slowly pokes his head inside, and then he sees you.

His eyes land on your sleeping frame, and it hurts him deep inside his chest. He can't see much, as your laying on your side with your back facing the door. But he's in awe with the way your chest slowly rises and falls, with the way you hogged the blankets and stuffed them between your legs. You're hugging something to your chest, and when he notices his pillow is not in its usual spot, he can't help but smile. 

It takes everything inside of him not to jump in the bed with you. He can't do that, he has dirt all over his clothes, smells like cigarettes and gasoline, and not to mention the blood on his neck from the scratch he'd gotten earlier.

So he hurries back into the bathroom, throws all his clothes onto the floor and jumps in the tub. The water that drips off his body is literally grey, and for a second he's disgusted with himself, but there's no time for that. He reaches for your apricot shower gel, but stops again. All those times you used his shower gel instead of your own come back to him, and he remembers just how annoying it is for him to bury his head into your neck and feel his own scent. So, despite being a bad ass biker full of cuts and bruises, Sweet Pea pushes away his love for soft skin, and uses his own gel.

About 10 minutes later, he walks back into his room, butt naked. It takes him less than 30 seconds to put on a fresh pair of underwear, but now his pyjamas are nowhere to be seen. It comes as a soft tickle to his heart to see you wearing his shirt, so he just throws on a rugged pair of sweats and finally gets into bed.

His arms instantly find you, pulling you so hard against his chest, that if he wasn't missing you so badly, he would've been worried he's crushing you. But that's all in his head, because you feel him and it's the best feeling in the world. This wasn't enough to disrupt your sleep, but when sinks his head into the crook of your neck, kissing all the exposed skin he can reach, you start to awake.

"Pea..." you mumble, half asleep.

"Sleep, baby, I'm sorry I woke you up" he coos, moving to stroke your cheek with his thumb. 

"Is everyone ok?" you question, turning around in his hold.

"Yes, angel, everyone is fine"

"And no one hurt you today, right?"

"I'm perfect, Y/n" Sweet Pea confesses, kissing your forehead as you settle against his chest.

"Good, good" you whisper, pressing your cheek into his shoulder, as sleep is already enveloping you again.

Silence settles. But it's only for a short while as guilt eats away at his heart. Sweet Pea decides to speak again, content with the fact that you might already be asleep. He just wants to try.

"I'm sorry for today, angel"

You just nod your head no, too lazy and comfortable to open your mouth.

"No what?" he asks, rubbing your back as curiosity starts to get to him.

"You know you don't have to apologise to me for something like this" you say, not bothering to move a muscle. Your bodies are perfectly tangled together and you don't want that to change. "That club is your family, I wouldn't love you as much if you weren't so loyal and selfless. I love how dedicated you are, I adore that about you"

Sweet Pea kisses the top of your head as he puts his words together. "And what about you? I'm not here as much as I should be, I can't help but feel like a piece of shit"

"Reverse" you sigh.

"Reverse what?" he asks confused.

"The situation. Had I been in trouble. And the Serpents were fine, every one of them safe. Wouldn't you miss out on your daily White Wyrm gatherings so you could help me out?"

"Of course I would!" Sweet Pea scoffs.

"See?" you roll your eyes, pushing him so he falls onto his back. You hear a soft chuckle escape his lips as you nonchalantly climb on top of him. "You're a fucking good man. My good man"

"I love you, baby girl"

"And I love you"

In this moment, you can feel his heartbeat against your cheek and with his arms safely secured around your middle, you couldn't feel safer.

"I'll take you out for coffee tomorrow before school" he adds out of nowhere.

"I'm not going to school"

"Why?"

"I'm sick"

"What do you mean you're sick!?" he asks, nearly jumping with concern.

"Calm down" you laugh, "It's just what I told my doctor so I could get a couple of days off. You're only home until noon, so I thought it would be perfect"

"You're perfect" Sweet Pea says, kissing the top of your head again.

"I know..."

"And modest too" he jokes.

"I know right!? I'm the whole package!"

"I'm so fucking in love with you it's scary" Sweet Pea admits, gesturing for you to look up at him. When you do, he captures your lips into a kiss, loving and needy. Your teeth clink together and you elbow him in the side, but he doesn't mind. You're all he could've ever asked for. Everything he never knew he needed. And the kiss lasts just a tad bit longer, as it started out lazy, and ended by you pulling away just enough so you could rest your head back against his chest before sleep would come around again, this time enveloping the both of you.

[whimsywispsblog]

Birthday Oneshot for Adler!

A/N: Aye Wispies! Its Adler's birthday!!! So here's a little one shot for all of you lovelies out there. Enjoy!♥️

12th of February! A day y/n had been anxiously waiting for. Why, you ask? Well duh, its Adler, her dear lovely boyfriend's birthday!!!!

Adler, being the private person he is, has never liked big fancy birthday parties. In fact, he never really celebrated his birthday in a long time. The most that he's celebrated was going out for a drink with the boys and that's all. But this time, Rei wanted to change things a little for the man. Of course, she wasn't planning on killing him with a big ass surprise party, no. Just a whole day to themselves and maybe the night with their friends.

Adler, might be hard to believe, has a sweet tooth. Not a fan of candy, no, but he does like chocolate or any baked foods.

"Okay, maybe a chocolate cake with a hint of orange should be good for him. Ooh and pancakes too! His favourite!" Y/N quickly got to work in the kitchen. Luckily, she was able to take an off using the sick leave. Adler however, had to go to work, but, he did promise to be back by noon to stay with her because she was too sick ;).

-

"Okay now that's done I've to pack his gift." She got him a brand new leather jacket and aviators (as much as she hated to see him wear those annoying shit).

"Ah its almost time! He must be back in about 5 minutes!" Y/N squealed and jumped, putting up the fairylights and trying to find some good romantic music. She set the table with a  candlelit lunch and finally the house was prepared. She dressed up in a little pink dress that Adler had bought her a couple of months back.

The sound of the door unlocking and Y/N quickly hid herself behind the door. Adler got into the house and he was left utterly surprised. "Y/N?" Suddenly y/n pounced on Adler, giggling and squealing and landing a few pecks on his face. Adler chuckled lightly, holding her waist to help her balance over him. "Happy birthday, Russ!" Y/N squealed again, before pulling him into a tight hug again. Adler smiled softly, helping her down. She pulled his hand, taking him to their dining room. "You made all this?"

"Yess!!" She chimed, pulling him. The couple enjoyed the food, and most of the time they were busy playing around with each other than eating. Adler's face was covered in the icing thanks to Y/N. Oh and Adler loved his presents 🥺🥺🥺. He spent the whole day wearing his new jacket and aviators.

The evening was spent with Woods, Mason, Sims, Y/N and Mason's wife (who is a good friend of Adler's and Y/N's). Ofcourse, what is a drinking party without Woods and Y/N getting in trouble for picking a fight with some random person?

The night went wonderfully and somehow, you ended up on Adler's lap, making out with him, until Woods finally screamed "Get a room you two!", earning a knock from Adler, again.

The rest of the night was fun and the two of you had a good night's sleep. Adler loved his birthday!

Taglist:

@quizzyisdone

@pookolokon

@nikkibell1937

@sophtheunlikelybakeryfestival

@lovinggooppalacebanana

[ambivalentmarvel]

so the story behind this is that @sreppub​ arrived in my dms saying “sitcom starring two uppity, former rich guys and a regular poor college kid who follow up an online ad and become roommates” and i said something along the lines of “your MIND” and here we are. she does the art, i do the fic, and we both yell a lot along the way. read it on here or ao3 and enjoy!!

The Sitcom Supreme

If Peter or Stephen were around to hear Tony tell the story of how they all ended up rooming together, they would have plenty of objections, to which he would call them both dirty liars, to which they would gang up on him because they’re terrible and like that, to which he would probably throw up his hands in exasperation and/or make the mistake of engaging them in a debate, to which they would grin like wolves because, once again, they’re terrible and like that, but Tony’s the asshole who put up the Craigslist ad, so he gets to start—because he’s terrible and like that.

It’s a common trait amongst the three of them, what can he say?

The beginning of the story does not involve either of the other two, however. It begins with Rhodey, who is only occasionally terrible and like that. Rhodey has been Tony’s best friend since the tender age of fifteen. Considering Tony at age fifteen was a greasy little douche bag with too much money and a whole bunch of daddy issues that were somehow more obvious then than they are in the present, this is an impressive feat. 

Where things start, Rhodey and Tony are roommates at MIT, which is Howard’s school of choice to shove his problem child onto. Tony is supposed to get a single dorm room, but there’s a cockroach problem in that building. Administration has to get creative, which is how Rhodey, fresh out of boot for the fall semester, gets saddled with approximately one hundred and fifty pounds of neglected teenage boy who has only kind of gone through puberty.

The first words out of Tony’s mouth are blunt: “Any chance you have plans to drop out?”

And Rhodey looks at him with a raised brow, efficiently unpacked and totally unimpressed with the enormous stack of Tony’s things wavering in the doorway. “You have any plans to quit being annoying?” he retorts, which set the tone for their entire relationship.

Tony loves him to pieces. 

He’s the older brother he never knew he needed, yanking him by his collar from frat parties on the weekends and to his house for holidays because getting swamped by Rhodey’s six younger siblings is infinitely better than having to wear a suit and tie for Christmas dinner with six CEOs and maybe some senators, depending on the year. In return, Tony sees him through every finals week of his collegiate career, during which Rhodey gets so nervous he usually pukes at least daily and pulls so many all-nighters Tony memorizes the exact shade of red his eyes are at the end.

So, it’s safe to say they get along well. They get along so well, as a matter of fact, that when they stare at each other after their graduation ceremony for their Masters—a two-year process for both of them, and Rhodey receives two degrees to Tony’s four—surrounded by Rhodey’s family and Jarvis, Tony’s lips curl in a smirk Rhodey knows spells the best kind of trouble. “What do you say we keep the roommate streak alive, yeah? Howard’s building an office in New York, and I’m thinking of doing a doctorate at NYU.”

Rhodey’s brows raise, but he’s grinning, so Tony already knows his answer. “Depends. Are you still gonna’ snore?”

“Are you still gonna’ have a stick up your a—”

Mama Rhodes shoots Tony a look from where she’s trying to corral the rest of her kids.

“—butt?” he finishes with a sheepish glance her way.

Rhodey does not even remotely have a stick up his ass, but of the two of them, he features in tabloids far, far less, which Tony somehow uses to his advantage.

“You know it,” Rhodey replies, and so they find a fancy penthouse that Tony mostly pays for, with the excuse of Rhodey satisfying his part of rent via generally covering Tony’s ass to the best of his ability. And he has a lot of ability, honed from years upon years of Tony self-destructing at the drop of a hat, but there’s only so much he can do, especially as his military career just keeps flying higher and Howard just keeps pushing Tony harder.

A few sex tapes, especially wild benders, and crashed cars later, when Howard cuts Tony off and tells him, quote, “I won’t speak to you until you learn to do something other than disappoint me”, Rhodey very gracefully still shacks up with him in their considerably less fancy apartment.

This is all important to know, contrary to what someone whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange might say about Tony’s “long-winded” and “overly-complicated” storytelling tendencies because it explains exactly why Rhodey is a traitor.

Is Carol a very cool lady who could kick Tony’s ass? Yes. Is she sickeningly cute with Rhodey and not just because a smile from her makes him melt into a pile of fucking goo on the floor? Also yes. Does it probably make more sense for Tony to find roommates who will actually be around to monitor his—allegedly—poor mental health and self-care habits? Okay, fine, yes, but the bottom line is, Rhodey is moving in with Carol and abandoning Tony, and nobody said he had to like it.

(This is not strictly true, what with the approximately ten conversations Rhodey and he have had about his happiness and how, if Tony needs him, all he has to do is say the word and he’ll be back, but Tony has always had a flair for the dramatic.)

The whole idea is that Tony will find someone gone less than Rhodey with all his military business to enjoy having around the apartment. It’s technically a three-bedroom, but he and Rhodey use the extra one for storage. Fortunately or unfortunately, that storage area has become a lot of junk they go through before Rhodey makes his grand exit, and Tony suddenly has the option of having two roommates.

The ad is a low point, he can admit that, but there is a flaw in what Tony loudly calls Rhodey’s master plan to leave him alone to wallow in misery: Tony doesn’t exactly have a lot of friends, nevermind people who he’d want to live with.

“Rhodey. Honeybear. Platypus.”

“The nicknames are old, and you need to stop using them around Carol. She called me Platypus last night during sex, and it ruined the whole mood.”

“You poor thing.”

“She thought it was hilarious.”

If Tony has to lose Rhodey to anybody, by God, Carol is his first choice by a long shot.

“Anyway, as I was saying, Sourpatch—”

“I hate you.”

“—how am I supposed to find someone else to live with?”

Tony is thirty-two and regularly speaks out with all of four people: Pepper, Rhodey, Carol, and Happy. Unfortunately, Happy works in Stark Industries’ California branch and has stated rather firmly that he’s not interested in transferring to the city, Pepper wouldn’t live with another person for love or money, and the other two are spoken for.

It’s a terrible situation to be in, honestly.

“Craigslist,” Rhodey deadpans, fighting with some packing tape.

Tony feels his heart stop beating in real time from his place folding some of Rhodey’s clothes into a plastic tub. His head snaps up, and his jaw drops, absolutely affronted. “You would suggest that I, even disowned and stripped of my former glory—” Tony has several million dollars in the stock market, but that’s neither here nor there and isn’t much compared to the fact that he was supposed to be a billionaire. “—would stoop to looking for live-in friends on Craigslist?”

Rhodey looks up to meet his eyes, unfazed. He’s used to Tony’s antics after nearly two decades of friendship. “Well, I’m not moving out until you have at least one person guaranteed to take my place, so unless you have any better ideas, yeah.” He shrugs—just shrugs, as if he isn’t advising Tony to scrape the bottom of the fucking barrel in terms of reliable people to regularly fall asleep around.

It’s insulting.

“I’m not putting out an ad for a roommate on Craigslist,” he protests, shoving the next horribly colored polo into the tub with disdain.

That night, he tears up thinking about stopping Rhodey from being happy with Carol, and the post is up by the time Rhodey gets up—stupidly early, like normal—for his morning run. Along with his contact information and a few blurry pictures of the place, it includes a blurb about the circumstances.

Best friend moving out. Need a roommate or I will die of Sadness. His girlfriend is cool but hewas mind first. Carol, I am watching you. Two rooms open for business. But not sketchy business. You can just lve there. Current resident (me) is cool and very charming. I am a man. No dumb fuck offers. Thanks.

It could use some work, but Tony’s never been great with words, even less so when he’s crying to rock ballads at two in the morning. He edits it when he wakes up, and by noon that day, it’s looking better.

At seven o’clock that evening, he receives one of two messages that actually work out.

Enter the first offender: Peter Parker.

Peter, Tony will learn, is nineteen, attending NYU—like Tony did, which is a sign, really—for a double major in biochemistry and physics, and has the worst luck of anyone Tony’s ever met.

Rhodey’s moving out in a week—he’s been putting off finding a roommate for a while, alright—and Peter has to legally be out of his dorm in three days. That is quite the predicament, and Tony, by nature, is a curious creature. He is not, however, one for beating around the bush. That results in a text that reads exactly this.

Tony: What the hell did you do?

He could hack through the university files, but explanations are always more fun with a personal touch that’s lacking in, say, an incident report. Tony watches a bubble with three blinking dots for a long, long time, and the reply is surprisingly sparse—sparse enough, in fact, for Tony to have more questions than answers when he receives it.

Unknown Sender: theres been a few things but the kicker was the fire

Tony: The fire?

Unknown Sender: i tried to make popcorn and the microwave blew up

Now that is some problematic behavior Tony can get behind. He amends the kid’s previously non-existent contact information.

Tony: How can they kick you out for that? That’s not your fault.

Roommate (?) Peter: it blacked out the power on the entire first floor

Tony: And?

Roommate (?) Peter: last month i got the blame for contaminating half the campus water supply

Roommate (?) Peter: so i was already on thin ice

Tony: Accidentally?

Roommate (?) Peter: idk sometimes things just happen to me

Tony doesn’t know how to respond to that. If Rhodey knew, he’d never let him live it down. He can hear his annoying laugh in his ears like a premonition—“Hah—Tony, speechless?”—but then there are the dots again and a simple message to follow the last, a touch pathetic.

Roommate (?) Peter: please let me move in

Tony likes him.

Peter shows up on the stairs of the complex thirty-six hours after Tony posted the ad with a backpack and a meager total of six beat-to-shit boxes. The backpack holds nearly all of his school supplies, which makes Tony, in retrospect, genuinely fearful for the integrity of his spine, and the contents of the boxes are sorted, as Tony will learn, into three categories that each have two boxes in them. The categories are fairly simple—clothing, necessities, and whatever other shit he could fit from his dorm—and leave Peter with thrilling possessions such as an entire collection of truly atrocious shirts with science puns on them, a gallon of hand soap, and any food he had in his cupboards.

Thankfully, Rhodey is out furniture shopping with Carol when Tony goes out to meet him, which solves the problem of Rhodey going into overbearing caretaker mode at the sight of a beanpole of a kid failing to manage their life successfully. As someone who has been made many a you-haven’t-eaten-a-meal-in-two-days-and-I’m-secretly-a-panicking-mother-hen casserole, Tony counts his blessings.

Tony waves. “Peter?” he asks, reluctantly changed out of his pajamas for the day.

The kid nods. “That’s me. And you’re Tony?”

“Guilty as charged. Want a hand with those boxes?” he asks, watching Peter lift three at a time.

“No, I got it,” he insists, and then the box on top slides out of his grip and onto the sidewalk.

Peter stares at it for a second before he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Maybe I could use some help,” he admits, and with much struggle, the two of them, each with three boxes, waddle inside. There is a moment and only one moment where Tony thinks that it might be nice to have some extra assistance, but with another thought of the things Rhodey would do at the sight of a woefully inept college kid, Tony decides it’s for the best.

Tony leads the operation, considering he has the key and also knows explicitly where they’re going, and he would have to say his biggest complaint about the ordeal is that Sam, who lives in the apartment below Tony and Rhodey with Steve and Bucky, happens to open his door as they walk by.

Being an asshole, he has something to say about it. “Need some help, shellhead?” he crows.

Tony wishes he had a free hand to flip him off.

“Watch your back, Wilson,” he growls in return, a continuation of the beef the five of them have maintained since they met approximately seven years ago, when they all moved in on the same day and kept knocking into each other’s shit in the halls.

When they reach the top of the next flight of stairs and Tony starts to fumble with the key, Peter asks about it. “So—uh—who was that?”

“That was Sam. Part of the deal with moving in is that you harass him and the other two idiots who live with him. He also responds to jackass, douchecanoe, or birdbrain.”

“Birdbrain?”

“It’s an old joke. He had a rather—” Tony grunts, forced to set down his load to unlock the door, “—spectacular run-in with some pigeons a few years ago.”

“Oh.”

“They shat on him. A lot.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a good nickname,” Tony assures him, throwing open the door with his arms flung wide for dramatic flair. “Welcome to Casa Stark. I mean, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker now, but if we’re hyphenating, my name goes first because I lived here first.” He holds up a finger as if to stall Peter, who has yet to speak from where his mouth is decidedly blocked by the aforementioned three boxes he is carrying. “And I know what you’re going to say—that Parker-Stark works better because it’s alphabetical—but that is where you are wrong because letters have no place in this house. Numbers are much preferred, and we play by seniority here, anyway.”

He gives Peter a meaningful look that he cannot see because, once again, boxes.

“More on that, by the way—”

“Hey, Tony?” 

He cuts him off which is, objectively, rude, but Tony rarely gets along with people who aren’t a little curt with him from time to time. This is a positive sign, really, so he allows it.

“Yeah?” 

“This can be Casa Stark-Parker, but can we get to somewhere I can set these down? My arms are, like, going to give out on me.”

Not even ten minutes in, and he’s already learned the art of bargaining. Tony’s proud, and he ushers him inside without any more monologues and a grin stretched across his face.

Peter, by virtue of moving in before Rhodey is out, ends up with the room that is no longer being used for storage. Tony has several questions for him, beginning with the fact that, despite the six packets of instant noodles he bothered to bring, he does not appear to have a mattress. Or a desk. Or a dresser. Or anything that’s supposed to go in a room.

His solutions for Tony’s concerns are as follows.

In place of a bed, he has two blankets, one to put on the floor and one to cover himself with. He was planning on sitting on the floor to do schoolwork instead of using a desk. And finally, he was going to leave his clothes in the boxes.

This is all relayed to Tony with an earnest gleam in his eyes and a smile.

Tony blinks in disbelief. Then, very eloquently, he says, “Kid, that is the saddest shit I have ever heard. Aren’t your parents helping you with the move to an apartment?”

The kid shifts from foot to foot, shoving his hands in his pockets and glancing to the side.

Tony’s eyes narrow. As someone who is extremely well-versed in avoidance tactics, he feels very confident in saying that is definitely a fucking avoidance tactic.

“About that,” he begins, “first of all, I’m an orphan.” Jesus Christ. “Second of all, my aunt doesn’t exactly—uh—know I got kicked out of the dorms.”

That is all interesting information, to say the least, but luckily, Tony thrives under pressure.

“Alright. I can respect that.”

It’s not like he never hid anything from his parents. Evading his aunt is Peter’s problem, not Tony’s. None of this is Tony’s problem, really, except then he looks around the room and wonders which of Peter’s boxes are holding his two blankets.

Tony was concerned about Rhodey, but he can’t stop himself.

“But I’m also gonna’ level with you—you’re not sleeping on the ground. You can take the couch.”

The until I get you a proper bed frame and mattress goes unsaid, but sometimes things like that are better as surprises. It’ll be a fun housewarming gift, Tony thinks, and by the time the shipment from IKEA arrives containing both of those things and the aforementioned missing dresser and desk, there will be a third roommate to help put it all together, not that either of them know it yet.

That night, Rhodey and Carol show up with enough ingredients for lasagna to serve four, and Tony delights in showing off Peter as they cook because now he has a “super cool roommate too! Take that, Platypus.”

Rhodey glances to Peter. “If you’re being held hostage, blink twice.”

“Hey!” Tony protests. He is a perfectly lovable roommate, thank you very much, and he’s so offended, he’s not even going to let Rhodey know about his mission to furnish Peter’s room.

God bless her, Carol just laughs.

The four of them get along with surprising ease, considering Peter’s only been around for a few hours. Peter even tries to help with the lasagna, but Tony has a near-photographic memory and has not remotely forgotten the popcorn incident, however vaguely it was described.

“You just sit there and be a nicer person than Rhodey,” he urges him, and Peter nods, hiding his grin behind his hand at the argument that starts.

Once everyone is done, he and Rhodey get suckered into dish duty while Carol spirits Peter off to the living room, claiming she has to warn him about what he’s getting into. Tony doesn’t care enough to complain, and when her back is turned, he splashes a plate of suds onto Rhodey’s front. 

Rather than rise to the bait, however, he raises his brows, slipping into what Tony affectionately calls his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode. “You have to be a good example for him, Tones.”

Tony blinks. “I’m sorry, did you just say—”

“I’m serious!” They keep their voices mostly down, but Rhodey’s rises a bit with the declaration.

“He’s nineteen—an adult, in case you forgot. He signed the lease all on his own and everything,” he hisses back incredulously.

He thought he dodged the bullet by not disclosing just how underprepared Peter is to live in an apartment, but Rhodey’s head dips. Tony braces himself for the part of his big-brother-giving-a-stern-talking-to mode where he tells Tony he’s making a bullshit excuse and needs to get it together. “Don’t give me that. He’s a baby adult at best, and you know it.”

Yep, there it is.

“That’s still an adult!”

It is! Tony was on his own way earlier than nineteen. This is not a big deal, no matter how outlandish Peter’s circumstances are for moving out of NYU’s dorms.

“Watch his back.”

Tony scoffs. “It’s not like I was going to feed him to the wolves. I’m barely thirty—I’m not his dad.”

“Tony.”

Ah, the final, crushing blow of this version of Rhodey: his name—but with emphasis.

Tony sighs. “Fine,” he acquiesces. “I solemnly swear I will not let him get up to no good.”

A beat. Rhodey squints at him, slowly lowering the plate he’s holding into the sink. “You told me you refused to read Harry Potter.”

Shit.

Back when the books were first coming out, Rhodey was insufferably obsessed with them, and Tony loves him, but emotionally, he couldn’t handle having Rhodey think he was willing to discuss anything having to do with the series for longer than thirty seconds. Thus, he read the books—everyone in the world was doing the same, okay, and he cannot stand being out of the loop—but lied to Rhodey about it.

And now, he’s been made.

Rhodey and he launch into a very spirited discussion that draws Carol and Peter back to the kitchen, and despite the vein throbbing dangerously in Rhodey’s forehead, the promise has been made.

The day after Rhodey moves out, he and Peter manage to flood the bathroom.

In Tony’s defense, he only promised to look out for Peter. He said nothing about curbing his own dumbass tendencies, and it’s not like Bucky’s bedroom is all that damaged by the leak that Tony fixes before it’s really even a problem.

He and Peter settle into a nice sense of camaraderie, and Tony, content with his situation, forgets to take down his Craiglist ad that, logically speaking, someone would have to dig to find at this point, over a week after initially posting it.

Then, he receives a text that is as simple as it is effective: Is there still an available room in the apartment?

Enter the second offender: Stephen Strange.

Ahem, Doctor Stephen Strange, technically, but Tony has six PhDs. Nobody sees him going around making people call him Doctor Stark, and that’s because it makes him sound pretentious and stuffy, both things Tony prides himself on not being. However, Tony likes to push buttons, and very little gets Stephen worked up as fast as someone ignoring his credentials.

It’s a fun set-up, really, but annoying the piss out of Stephen is something that comes a little later—Tony’s not there yet in the story.

He humors the text, and after getting a read on things, he bursts into the living room, startling Peter nearly off the couch. He’s been doing his homework there and on the coffee table in front of it because the Swedish have many things but fast shipping is, apparently, not one of them, not that Peter knows there’s anything to be waiting on, but he’s getting off-topic.

Peter lets out a short yelp and presses a hand over his heart, both things that Tony ignores.

“We have a situation,” he announces.

“I swear I didn’t do it,” Peter defends pleadingly.

Tony is trying to teach him that messing things up is expected and, especially in particularly magnificent cases, admired in Casa Stark-Parker, but it’s a work in progress.

“I know you didn’t—don’t be ridiculous,” he waves his concerns off. “We are talking bigger than setting things on fire by accident. I bring you, my young protege, the proposition of—” A pause for dramatic effect. “—another roommate.”

“Ooh,” Peter says appropriately, setting his textbook down to examine the texts Tony brandishes. He begins to scroll, but while he does, Tony figures he can go ahead and fill him in on the essentials. It’s a very juicy situation, after all, and he can’t help himself.

“His name is Stephen Strange. He’s a neurosurgeon, but he got into a pretty bad car wreck that messed up his hands. He’s trying to save money while he goes to physical therapy—he apparently has a chance of recovery, but it’s a ways off—and that includes downsizing on where he lives.”

“I mean, yikes, but that’s an oddly specific backstory.”

“I’m glad you think that too, but I am intrigued. I looked him up, and he’s a real person—has a basically flawless reputation, or at least he did before his accident. Thoughts?”

Please say yes, please say yes, Tony thinks. The chance of a competent human—not including Rhodey, who looks more put together than he really is next to the chaos Tony perpetually dwells in—choosing to live with him is too fascinating to pass up, and he needs Peter to see that too.

Peter shrugs. “I’m down if you are. How old is he?”

Victory!

Satisfaction floods Tony, but he tries to maintain his cool.

“Thirty.”

Peter blows out a long breath, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling. “I didn’t anticipate moving into a nursing home,” he remarks dryly.

What a little shit.

It’s worth noting half the reason Rhodey left so easily is because he said he trusted Peter to keep Tony on his toes. Then again, that Tony likes being snarked at is a large part of why they get along so well despite only knowing each other for a matter of days.

“You’re the worst, Parker. I’m going to feed you to the hooligans downstairs. Steve has a monster appetite, you know.”

Peter hums, picking his textbook back up. “Not if I feed you to them first. And, Tony?”

“What?”

“Only old people say hooligans.”

Tony thinks about that one book, Give a Mouse a Cookie or whatever. Except in his case, it’s Rent a Teenager an Apartment, and Tony doesn’t have to adhere to the literary equivalent of a G-rating.

His response to the dig is creative and colorful, and Peter laughs.

Four days and a brief conversation at a coffee shop later—a formality he and Peter did not do and probably something Tony should’ve thought of as the older adult before giving him the address—Stephen’s team of movers invade the apartment.

The man himself stands like a drill sergeant at the last flights of stairs it takes to get to the apartment, arms crossed, beard wild, conducting activity.

Peter and Tony share their evaluations, peeking their head out from the doorway when it’s unoccupied by movers and Stephen isn’t looking their way. This involves quite a bit of ducking, but they are very careful not to be caught.

(Someone’s whose name may or may not rhyme with Tephen Trange later informs that “they were not at all subtle” and “were, in fact, very embarrassing”, but that’s how things with the three of them generally are, so Tony figures it was a good crash course to how life together goes.)

“He’s kind of scraggly,” Peter whispers, his head under Tony’s because he’s the shorter of the two of them, something Tony delights in refuting Peter’s quips about his age with.

“Kind of? He looks like a hobo.”

It’s true, okay? Facially, at least, the guy is a wreck. He’s not quite to Einstein levels of bad hair day, but he’s getting there.

“Be nice,” Peter chastises him. He’s gentler than Rhodey when he does it, but considering neither of them ever shut the hell up and they have thus bonded very easily over the course of their short relationship, it’s gotten to feel as natural as most of their interactions.

“All I’m saying is that I am happy to retain my place as the most attractive person in the apartment, okay?”

They’re forced to retreat from the entryway as another load comes through, and Peter looks at him disbelievingly. “Dream on,” he replies bluntly.

Tony gasps in offense.

Peter shrugs. “Look, I’m just gonna’ say it—you knew Rhodey before me, and now that I’m here—” he trails off, looking at Tony in faux-sympathy that doesn’t match the mischievous glint in his eyes.

While it is true that Rhodey is a fine specimen of a man—yet another reason Tony can’t, in good conscience, be truly angry Carol mooched him away from the bachelor lifestyle—Tony can’t cede that easily for the sake of his pride, and he scowls. “I am going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

They’re still bickering as the movers finish up and Stephen enters the apartment, dressed in what Tony recognizes as the latest from Armani and Tom Ford.

He may not get invited to fashion week anymore, but he still has taste, alright, even if Rhodey limits him to one designer purchase a month.

(Rhodey isn’t around to see what packages he orders now, Tony thinks but shelves the thought for later.)

Tony and Stephen met over coffee, and all three of them said hi to one another before the moving business officially began. However, there is a little stiffness in the air, make no mistake. It’s not Stephen’s fault, exactly, because he’s just kind of a foreboding guy, but still.

It figures that Peter would break the ice. As Tony’s found and will continue to discover, Peter is just as talkative as him. Granted, that trait usually appears in the form of rambling about something from class, but it’s not surprising that his natural passion for life comes through with someone about to be very, very involved in it. 

“Hi!” he begins. “Are all of the movers gone now?”

Stephen raises an unimpressed brow. “Yes.”

His reply is seriously lacking enthusiasm, but Tony isn’t allowed the opportunity to jump on that as Peter keeps going. 

“Sweet! Okay, so welcome to Casa Stark-Parker.”

Woah, woah, woah—timeout.

Tony frowns, raising a hand in a motion for Peter to stop. “I thought that was my thing?” he interjects.

“Well, it has my name in it, so it gets to be both of our things,” Peter replies, then furrows his brow, looking to Stephen. “Actually, since you’re here now, I guess it’s Casa Stark-Parker-Strange. Order’s based on who got here first, sorry,” he explains with a smile that Tony, now familiar with the fact that Peter has more to him than meets the eye, notes is a touch impish.

Tony is pleased to see, despite his generally wholesome appearance, the kid has at least picked up on the power of staking a claim.

Stephen blinks. His hands, Tony has noticed, don’t stop shaking, not even when he folds his arm across his chest, like a physical barrier between him and Peter’s excitement. “Okay?” he drawls slowly, confusedly.

“Tony’s rules, not mine,” Peter assures him as if he doesn’t just want the satisfaction of having his name not be the last in the line-up.

Tony scoffs. “Oh okay, so now we’re throwing me under the bus?”

“You have to take responsibility for your actions, Tony.”

“Oh, sure thing,” he replies, tone betraying that he does not, in fact, think any responsibility is at all necessary. He looks to Stephen, rolling his eyes. “Can you believe what I have to put up with? And it’s barely been a week.”

Stephen blinks again. “I see it’s a lot,” he says measuredly.

Peter gasps, unaffected. “Oh my God, we should make a sign for it,” he enthuses. “We can put it up on the door, and we’d be so much cooler than Sam and them.”

To say that Peter rose to the challenge of bothering their downstairs neighbors with zeal is something of an understatement. 

Tony is, honestly, a fan of the sign idea, especially if it were to light up, but that is where Stephen cuts in, his hands still trembling as he gestures. “Can we slow down for a moment?” He looks carefully from Tony and Peter and back again, bearing the appearance of a man in the throes of realizing he has made a bad decision. 

Tony knows that look well. It usually shows up when Rhodey agrees to one of Tony’s ideas and doesn’t realize just how badly constructed it is until it’s too late.

“First of all, I am fairly certain my car is parked illegally, and before we get too far, I need to fix it before I get towed. And secondly,” Tony watches Stephen’s lips curl in a self-satisfied, I-totally-think-I’m-better-than-you-even-if-I’m-not-technically-saying-it smile, “I am not here to be part of any Casa. I am waiting for physical therapy to work for me, and then I will be out of your hair. I appreciate being able to live here, but—”

Yeah, Tony’s had enough of that. Personally, he would like to thank Rhodey, who, in a way, begins and ends the story, and truly is the greatest best friend a man could have for teaching him how to properly deal with pompous rich people.

“Nuh-uh, none of that. If you’re living here, you’re a part of Casa Stark-Parker-Strange whether you like it or not.”

Stephen looks downright appalled that someone would dare to interrupt him, which, Tony knows from experience, is exactly the kind of shock rich people need to go through. He splutters for a second before he manages to get out a reply, “That was not in the lease.”

Tony spreads his hands as if to say what can you do? “And you didn’t mention in your texts that you were going to try to be a bump on a log, but here we are.”

Perhaps sensing the mounting animosity in the room or maybe just as excited as Tony to have someone to bother, Peter takes advantage of Stephen’s overwhelmed and bewildered state.

“First day with all three of us!” he shouts. “Picture!”

And before anyone can protest—including Tony, who would prefer to be documented in something other than a Black Sabbath tee and his work pants—Peter leans in with the camera on his phone ready to capture the moment.

In the resulting photo, Tony looks vaguely alarmed, Stephen looks pissed as hell, and Peter wears a grin that stretches across his whole face. The whole thing is blurry, and they eventually get it framed.

It’s a beautiful and fitting start to their time as roommates, and in the humble eyes of the asshole who posted the Craigslist ad, that is how the story of how they came to live together went.

[waywardxwords]

Sugar

Summary: You were used to hunting alone, but after getting paired with the Winchesters on a bigger job, the three of you stop at a bar after a long day. You show the boys you are completely capable of handling yourself after getting hit on by a drunk.

Pairing: Platonic/Friendship - Female Reader / Dean Winchester / Sam Winchester

Word Count: 1,602

Warnings: Slight language (PG-13)

The secondhand smoke in the small-town biker bar was overwhelming. Your knee-high black boots clicked upon the hardwood floor as you moved to lean against the long bar. You grimaced as you propped your elbows against the surface of the countertop, the black leather sticking to where liquor had spilled earlier in the evening.

“Ugh,” you groaned as your eyes darted by the walls of alcohol, pleading with the male bartender to hurry up the drink he was making and get over to you. “I need a drink.”

Sam Winchester smirked from his stance behind you, his hands in his front jean pockets. “You’ve been hanging out with Dean too long.”

You rolled your eyes. “You can say that again.” You didn’t normally hunt with the Winchesters, but you had been chasing a case that morphed into a job they just happened to be on. You had been tracking a vamp nest in Cicero when suddenly they made the trek to Sioux Falls where the boys were hunting a nest, as well. None of you had ever heard of nests joining together like that, so the plan was to take it slow and assess the situation before any of you just jumped right into something that could lead to trouble.

“Hey,” Dean piped up, a playful scowl covered his features. “I’m right here.”

You cocked your head and raised your eyebrows as you turned to face him, your back now leaning against the bar. “Exactly why I said it, Deanie.”

“Jesus Christ, call me that one more time…” Dean’s deep, frustrated threat came out as a growl, which made Sam laugh. A playful smirked played over your lips as you leaned up so your words fell just below his ear.

“Sure thing, Deanie.”

Oh, if looks could kill.

“What can I get ya?” The bartender appeared in front of the three of you with a dish rag in his hands. You spun back towards the bar and smiled politely. Hunting could be exhausting and, at times, mentally debilitating. But hunting with the Winchesters? Somehow there was almost always a smile at the end of the day.

“Yeah, one whiskey and gingerale, a whiskey double for him and a Bud Light for this guy,” you patted Sam on the shoulder as you fished through your back pocket for your wallet. You opened the old leather piece and pulled from it enough cash to cover all three drinks and a decent tip.

“A pretty lady like you shouldn’t be paying for the drinks,” a rough voice came from your other side. You tossed a glance over your shoulder in the direction of the noise and noticed an average-sized man, his hair disheveled and a serious five o’clock shadow that had to be a good five days old upon his face. His eyes were glassy and red, a clear indication this man was most likely trashed.

You had to mentally remind yourself to breathe and not let this douchebag get the best of you. You were mentally and physically exhausted from the hunt, and the last thing you wanted to deal with was a rowdy bar-goer who looked like he had been drinking since noon.

“I can handle myself and treat my friends,” you responded curtly as you turned your attention back to the bartender. In most instances, a normal (sober) human being would take this as a clear indication that you weren’t interested. Unfortunately for you, this man was not currently capable of taking a hint.

“Letme,” his words slurred together sloppily as he pushed himself towards the bar, the side of his body bumping into yours.

You closed your eyes and gritted your teeth together; you reminded yourself to count to five before speaking or even moving, for that matter. It was in your (and his) best interest.

When you opened your eyes, you could see the two brothers stiffen in your peripheral vision. Sam had stood fully straight, using his height as an advantage to ward off the stranger. Dean had broadened his shoulders, his jaw in a fixed line, unmoving. This only frustrated you even further.

“I’m going to ask you once to take a step back,” your eyes bore into the strange man beside you as the bartender accepted your cash and placed the drinks in front of you. He disappeared from before you but kept a watchful eye from the cash register. At least someone in this place knew you had the situation under control. That wasn’t saying anything for the Winchesters beside you.

The drunk man laughed, his breath carried the scent of whiskey to your nose. As much as you loved the caramel colored liquor, you felt bile rise in your throat at the smell coming off of the man’s breath.

“Oh, come on, Sugar,” he tried to wink but failed miserably, both of his eyes closed in a pathetic attempt. “Lemme buy you a drink.” His hot whiskey breath against your ear sent shivers up your spine just as his arm grabbed for your elbow.

“Back off, buddy,” Dean’s gruff voice sounded just as he chose to step toward the drunk stranger. You immediately shot him a look full of daggers. This time, it was your turn to kill him with a stare.

“I got it,” you said through gritted teeth.

Dean’s eyes widened slightly, but he put his hands up in front of him in a form of surrender and he took a step back. You turned to face the strange man once more.

You yanked your arm out of the man’s grasp and pushed against his torso. It wasn’t a hard push, but considering his level of intoxication, it was enough to send him stumbling backwards. You took the given space and stepped forward, closing the gap between the two of you as your hands gripped his shirt collar and pulled his dead-weight body forward so his face was only inches away from yours. You held back a grunt as his weight relied on the strength of your arms to hold him up. A look of pure shock graced his features, causing you complete satisfaction.

“Listen here, pal,” you said loud enough for him to hear you, but not loud enough to cause a scene. “I don’t appreciate being told I can’t buy myself and my two friends some drinks. And I sure as hell don’t appreciate being called ‘Sugar’. I ain’t your Sugar. So here’s what’s going to happen. You’re gonna turn around and get the hell out of here,” you pulled him even closer now so he was sure to hear you. “Otherwise, I will have to kick your ass. And trust me, honey. I wouldn’t go there.”

With that, you threw his body away from yours. The alcohol that had made him unable to make good decisions also made him clumsy. He stumbled backwards and fell fully on his rear, bar stools scraped the hardwood floor in the process of his fall. This caused some attention to draw as bikers and bar-goers alike turned away from their conversations to look at what had unfolded.

“You heard me,” you repeated out loud as the drunk still lingered, obviously not taking a hint. “Get the hell out of here.”

Apparently, two times was the charm. He scrambled to his feet, wobbling as he did so. The other men in the bar laughed and chuckled as they hollered after him for being put in his place by a chick.

You turned back to the bar and in one long gulp, downed the golden liquid in your cup and slammed your glass back on the bar top.

“Let’s get outta here,” you mumbled to the two brothers. You hadn’t noticed before, but their eyes were wide and on you—both had a smile playing against their lips. As the three of you walked through the front door and towards the parking lot, you heard Sam chuckle. You quickly held up your hand to silence them. “Not a word.”

Sam held his hands up in a surrender. “I didn’t say anything.”

“But you were thinking it,” you shot him a glare. “And you,” you turned to Dean accusingly and shoved your index finger into his chest. He huffed, feigning surprise and held his hands up as well.

“What?!” He pretended he had no idea what you were referencing.

“What the hell was that about?!” You snapped, your finger still planted firmly on his chest. You jabbed once for added effect. “I can fight my own battles, thank you very much.”

Dean let out a laugh he couldn’t contain anymore and removed your finger from his chest as the three of you walked towards the Impala. “Noted.”

Sam walked ahead of the two of you, the shock had worn off from the bar encounter and now he was fully focused on a message on his cell phone. Your fingers stretch around Dean’s bicep as you caught his attention. He looked back at you inquisitively with raised eyebrows.

“But uh, thanks…” you squirmed just having to thank him. “For uh, having my back.” You took your gaze away from him and focused on the asphalt below your boots in the darkness. You saw a gleam in his eye and a half-smirk in the flow of the moonlight as you reached the Impala.

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered as he opened the driver’s side door. You pulled open the back-passenger door with Sam already climbing into the front seat. Dean smirked and chuckled before he muttered, “Dude, remind me never to piss you off.”

You couldn’t help but smile.

[5289belle]

Captain America’s Legacy

Summary: When Katerina Rogers watches as the flags smashers cause further mayhem, she knows she needs to come out of hiding and go help Sam and Bucky take them down, all while dealing with the fact that the United States government replaced her dad with some idiot as Captain America.

Meet Katerina (Katy) Rogers, the daughter of Natasha and Steve. Will take place during the falcon and the winter solider with some flashbacks to black widow and civil war. Also Tony is alive in this timeline, Steve did that snap instead, Natasha still died getting the soul stone.

Chapter One Captain Americas Legacy 

Sitting on the bed in her hotel room in Paris, Katy looked up to the tv and watched as Sam Wilson gave away her dad’s legacy to some museum. How could he when her father had chosen him to replace him while he lay there dying, anger and grief swelled up in her as she angerly switched off the tv.

It had been six months since she lost both of her parents within hours of each other and it hadn’t gotten any easier, she was all alone with her grief. Wanda was off somewhere trying to get through her own trauma and grief, Clint was taking time to be with his family again, thinking of him getting to be with them again made it easier to handle her mama’s sacrifice. It hurt too much to be around her mama’s family, they all reminded her too much of her mama. Tossing and turning in bed she found it difficult to sleep when she knew what awaited once she did manage to go unconscious for a few tortured hours.

Sometime around six and five am she managed to fall into a semiconscious slumber, until her alarm went of at noon. Rolling over to turn it off and turn back into her pillow to get a little bit more rest. Soon she would have to get up and leave. Never stay in one place too long, that was her motto, the constant moving helped to keep her mind distracted.

About two weeks later she was strolling through the streets of London when she spotted the news paper stand. On the front cover it read “Cap is Back” below it described how John Walker was the new Captain America. Unable to read anymore she back away and ran back to her hotel room. Flipping on the tv to try and forget what she had just seen, she looked up to see the man in question having a interview on Good Morning America. She felt sick to her stomach, scoffing she sat down to see just who this Walker guy was.

“It’s the greatest honor of my life um, but I I’m just a little shocked how’d a guy like me end up here?”

Ugg, his obvious self-depreciation was revolting, as if. She could tell he was trying to hard to emulate that humble hero, trying to emulate her dad. After watching a few more minutes to get a better understanding she decided she had enough and flipped the channel. In its stead a news report about the flag smashers was playing.

Apparently they were escalating and even caused a panic and injuries at a robbery. Watching the news footage, she noticed that one of the masked smashers had apparent super strength. That was news to her, to her knowledge the only ones with the super soldier serum that was still alive was, her dedushka(grandpa), all the former black widows had a form of the serum including Yelena and her babushka(grandma), Bucky, and herself. Though her was from her parents passing on their enhanced genetic codes.

Letting out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding in, she looked down to her hands. This whole situation was getting out of hand and obviously the GNC couldn’t handle. She knew she couldn’t hide out anymore, not when people were getting hurt. It was time to go back home and follow in her parents’ footsteps.

Two hours later she was on a plane, heading back to the states.

Hopping out of her uber she thanked the driver and closed the door. Now she only had to find Sam and get to the bottom of the situation. According to his phone he shouldn’t be too far off. Not too far up ahead she spotted him with Bucky, having one of their usual banters no doubt. Though the closer she got to them she noticed Bucky a bit more. He had cut his hair, and hot damn if it did not suit him. “Fuck me” she muttered to herself before noticing and blushing.

You have got to be kidding me when did she find herself thirsting after him. Okay be cool she thought to herself, but damn he really was hot.

“Well I don’t trust redwing” Bucky said to Sam and he followed after him.

“You don’t have to trust redwing, but I’m gonna go see if he’s right. Because I have a feeling they might be part of the big three.” Sam replied back slightly annoyed by the other man.

Hold up, the big three? What the hell is that? Apparently Bucky didn’t know either because he asked Sam “What big three?”

Looking at him incredulously he replied “ the big three, androids, aliens, and wizards”

Shaking his head Bucky said “that’s not a thing’

“Since when has that been a thing?” Katy interrupted with genuine interest.

Both men looked over in shock, they hadn’t expected to see her. Not after she took after and disappeared.

Bucky did a double glance real quick, she seemed different somehow.

“Where have you been all this time? We looked everywhere for you.” Sam said with a worried expression. Giving them a tight-lipped smile, she looked away towards the skyline and then turned back to them. “Oh, you know, touring Europe.” Grimacing she continued “ I just, couldn’t face it. It was easier to disappear, but when I noticed all the trouble the flag smashers were causing and the GNC inability to do anything, I decided it was time to come back.”

“Are you doing any better?” Sam asked. “Of course, others wise I wouldn’t be here. Any way what the hell is the big three? I’ve never heard of that..”

Rolling his eyes Sam, looked to Bucky and then back to Katy. “ You know the big three, anytime we fight anyone it one of those three.”

“So who are you fighting now? Gandalf?” Bucky replied back sarcastically.

Taking a moment to register what he said Sam responded back incredulously “ uhh, how do you know about Gandalf?”

“ I read the hobbit, in 1937 when it first came out”

“So you see my point”

“oh, I love the hobbit. I read it back in fifth grade” Katy said to aloud, glancing at the both of them she was surprised to see they looked shocked at her admission. “What, it’s a good book.”

Looking back to Sam Bucky replied “No I don’t, there are no wizards”

“Doctor Strange” Sam said to which Bucky quickly replied “Is a sorcerer”

“ahh, ha ha. A sorcerer is a wizard without the pointy hat.” Sam said smiling in triumph.

“No, a wizard does magic with a wand or stick, a sorcerer used their hands” Katy interview with her commentary.

“Same difference” Sam looked over to her.

“Any ways’ he went on “they use brute strength, just like you guys and are incredibly annoying like the guy in front of me with a staring problem” With that he walked away to the plane with Katy and Bucky hot on his heels.

“I’m coming with you” Bucky and Katy said in unison to Sam.

“No you’re not”

“Uh, yeah we are. I’m not just going to sit back while I could be doing something to help people. Okay so I am going with you rather you like it or not. She said with a snarky tone, looking for Bucky to back her up. He merely nodded to her and followed Sam into the plane.

“Fine you and Cyborg can come with, just don’t annoy me” Rolling his eyes Sam couldn’t help but think how much she reminded him of Steve, always sure of what they were doing.

A few hours later sitting on the plane Bucky and Sam were having some kind of stare off. Looking between the two of them she couldn’t believe it. Seriously they were to grown ass men behaving like teenagers, her partners on this mission. Joy. Standing Bucky asked, “So what’s our plan?” Sam merely looked over to him and went back to putting in his earpiece and handing one over to her.

“Great, so no plan” Bucky said while sitting back down.

Torres interrupted with “Thirty seconds”

“Enjoy your ride Buck and Kat”

“Nah you can’t call me that”

“Why not, that’s what Steve called you”, shooting back Bucky said “Steve knew me longer, and Steve had a plan”

“Fifteen seconds to drop”

“I have a plan”

“Really? What is it?” he said while spreading his arms out walking toward Sam and Torres. Following after them Katy, stepped closer to Bucky.

Sam just jumped out the window, rather than replying back and dealing with those two.

Looking over to Torres Bucky asked “Great, where is the chute?”

“Were 200 hundred feet. It’s too low for a chute”

Huffing, Katy looked to Torres and asked, “Do you have some rope?”

“I don’t need it anyway” Bucky said while walking over to the open doorway and ripping off his sleeve with the metal arm.

“Yes we have some rope, why exactly” Torres questioned, looking over at Katy.

“Perfect, I can use that to jump out. Thank you”

Looking back to Bucky he replied, “You sure about that?”

“Yeah”, with that he jumped straight out.

Walking back over with the rope he handed it to her and watched as she wrapped it around herself and then to the plane, “have a nice flight” Without she dove right out of the plane and did a flip while holding out to the rope and scaling down to the ground. After fifteen seconds she let go and free fell another fifty feet before lading and doing her iconic superhero pose.

Looking over a few dozen feet, she noticed Bucky laying on the ground trying to catch his breath. Letting out a chuckle and smiling she walked over to him to make sure he was okay.

Standing over him she put her hands on her hips and looked down while asking “Are you okay? That looked like it hurt”

Suddenly Sam interrupted with mirth “I have all of that on camera, you know that right”

Then redwing flew over to them, Bucky merely looked over to her and said “Yeah, im fine. How are you?” and then looking over to redwing hovering above them he grunted “ Get out of my face, Sam or I’ll break it.”

In the comms he just simply said “okay, head north”

Sticking her hand out to him she offered to help him up. Reaching to take her hand with her flesh one she pulled him up, and then quickly took a step back flustered at his proximity, “come on lets go” with that she went north.

Walking into the abandoned building Bucky and Katy looked around, while walking around redwing swooped right by Bucky prompting him to swat at it while she chuckled, and Sam said “don’t hurt him”

While they walked up to Sam he called out “You’re doing that staring thing again”, looking down to his wrist he continued “They’re in there.”’

“Where’s they guy?” Bucky asked, “I don’t know, I think they’re smuggling weapons, though.”

“Well, I think you could be right”

“hmm,” was all Sam said.

“Well, I think we should do something about it rather than just standing here and bantering about it” Katy called out with a smirk and then walked closer to get a better look to see what the two guys were doing.

Looking over to her Bucky had a light smile reach his eyes at her quip, while Sam just laughed. “There’s only one way to find out, I see a clear path. I say we take it.”

“We’re not assassins”

Grimacing as his reply Katy looked over her shoulder and then looked back.

“I’ll see you inside or not.” Bucky replied in his deep baritone voice staring out Sam, then walking over to Katy.

“Hey, come on man. I’m just messing with you. Come back” smiling Sam trailed after them.

With Bucky leading they way she trailed behind him.

“Look at you. All stealthy.” Chuckling Sam continues through the comms “all stealthy. A little time in Wakanda and you come out White Panther”

“It’s actually White Wolf”

“Huh”

“All right, I’m inside therefore, way ahead of you.” Crouching down her looks over to Katy and then back to the scene in front of them. “It’s not great, but very doable with Katy and I”

Feeling a presence creeping up behind her she looks back to see Sam stealthy creeping up behind them.

“huh”, Bucky said in confusion”, then went on in a sarcastic tone “Hello. How are you?”

“Good. What did I miss?”

“Nothing”

Huffing out she replied between them “Boys, can we get back to the mission? Kind of important here..”

“Alright let’s go” Bucky replied

“No wait.” Sam said.

“I got a vibranium arm. I can take them”

Something felt off about this, it looked almost too easy, before she could say anything Sam quickly responded “And I can fly, Katy can take them down with hand-to-hand combat. Who gives a shit? Wait.” “I wanna see where they’re going”

“Now wait a minute, I can do more than that” she said offended.

“There’s two people”

“You only see two?, what about you Kat?”

“That’s what I saw. Bucky responded while looking over to her.

“I only see two, but I..” She stops to take a break and then looks at them unsteadily. “I can sense more, if that makes sense.”

Both men are surprised by this and look at her questioningly.

Sighing she looks to them and the says “About seven years ago I was taken by the red room, and they experimented on me, apparently they saw an opportunity with my already enhanced DNA. From that I’ve been able to sense things, kind of like a sixth sense. I don’t know if that makes any sense, but it’s all I got.” Unable to elaborate anymore she looks away and hopes they will be satisfied with that answer.

Noticing her apprehension, they let it go for now and focus back on the mission. Bucky has a straight face, yet there’s concern there and a bit of understanding.

“Let me see what redwing sees.” Looking down at his wrist Sam points of the multiple body heat signatures redwing is picking up.

Grateful they let it go, she looks over to see that there appears to be five people.

How many people you see now? One, two…. Oh, here it comes again. Four, five. Yeah five.” Sam continues while Bucky just snaps “fine”

“Yeah.”

“So they’re strong whatever. All right lets go.”

“No, no wait. Shit”

Watching as the people look up from the noise, the trio held still trying not to be noticed. Finally, they looked on and continued their tasks.

“Alright, lets move” A woman call out to the other people. Waiting for them to be out of sight the three follows after . Looking at his wrist Sam notices that one of the trucks has an eight person in it. “I think they have a hostage he remarks.”

With that Bucky and Katy run off towards the truck while Sam flies towards it.

Running up the truck Bucky jumps up onto the back and opens the door climbing in, with Katy hot on his wheels. Walking in further he begins to look around, trying to find the hostage. Looking around they notices the crate and the contents, “They’re stealing medicine. Vaccines”

Looking up she notices a young woman poke her head out from one the crates, she looks scared and slightly hopeful. Alarm bells are going off in Katy’s head, but before she can do anything Bucky is saying hi and getting himself jacked out of the truck.

“Oh shit” she remarks before kicking out the woman and then turning to Bucky to see him being pulled up onto the car truck by two guys. Jumping up onto the other truck she goes to help him out with the other woman right on her heels. Turing around she blocks a swing from the red head and take a step back raising her arms and falling into a defense position.

Thrusting her foot forward she kicks out at the woman and hit her gut before she can even react. Thanks to her mom she has the quicker reflexes and quickly continues on her attack, turning to check on Bucky.

In her distraction the other woman get a kicks in and sends her flying back before Bucky’s feet, redwing then comes soaring in taking shots. The woman jumps up and catches it and then uses her knee to break it in half.

While on her back Katy quickly jumps back up landing with her one foot tucked in a kneeling position and the other in front while her hands are touching the floor.

Bucky looks up and happily says “I always wanted to do that.”

Sam’s going to be pissed she thought with a smirk and then turned and lashed out at the guys holding onto Bucky, sending them stumbling away. Ordinary her kicks would have wiped them out, but with the serum the just took a few steps back. Annoyed by this she turned around to see Sam swooping down and kicking the woman.

Ha she thought, I knew it.

While Sam was engaging in combat with the woman Bucky yelled out “Good of you to join the fight Sam” Quickly Bucky and she took on the other two men. In the meantime, the fight was joined by the other truck rolling up and two other men joining.

Sam was kicked onto to other truck leaving Katy to run up to the other guys and quickly jump up towards them, using her body as leverage she wraps her thighs around one of the guys and uses the momentum to throw him down, quickly raising her wrist she shoots out one of her widow’s bites from her gauntlet. It was a gift from her mother for her eighteenth birthday.

To her dismay it didn’t take him down for long, “Damn super soldiers” She muttered to herself.

Suddenly one of the men fighting Sam was hit by her father’s shield, looking up she noticed a helicopter with that Walker idiot jumping out. Rolling her eyes, she went on fighting.

Before she knows it the shield is flying around nocking the flag smashers down, while another mans jumps down on a rope. Great another idiot to contend with, who the hell is he supposed to be?

“Sam. John Walker, Captain America.”

“Lemar Hoskins”

Walker continues “Looks like you guys can use some help”

The two men say, responding to the questioning looks.

Ugg she thinks he looks way to proud to be brandishing that shield around. Dark thoughts quickly take over her mind, the very sight of him enrages her. Using that anger she quickly takes out her opponent.

The woman quickly makes her way up the Walker and Hoskins, Walker goes to hit her with the shield and then throws it out the other guys, while it soars back Bucky catches it with ease, handing it over to Walker reluctantly.

Witnessing the whole thing, the only thing that comes to mind to Katy was “Damn, that was hot” While slightly panting, blushing and hoping no one notices she looks towards the other two.

The fighting continues for a few more minutes before Bucky is pushed off the truck, faltering at the sight she receives a swift hit to the gut, quickly focusing back on the task at hand she continues to fight. Worried over Bucky still she notices Sam swoop in and them him and Bucky tumble away onto the field. With her head turned away her opponent kicks her off the truck sending her over in the direction the other two went.

Tumbling onto the ground below her and then rolling onto the grass, she berates herself for allowing herself to get distracted enough to get her ass handed to her. She was better than this, trained by a former red room assassin and a freaking super soldier since she was her girl.

Standing up she notices Sam and Bucky walking towards her.

“Well, that went horrible. We got a asses handed to us back there. I mean we are professional’s right? Because after that it seems like were amateurs. It’s embarrassing”

“Yeah, we sure did. Although I might add they were all super soldiers” Sam tuned in while him and Bucky walked off onto the road following after her.

“Well, this should be a fun walk back” Bucky said aloud looking straight ahead. Are you okay doll?” He said looking towards her.

Stuttering in her steps at the name, she quickly collected herself and responded with a smile “Never better, always love it when I take a tumble off a moving semi-truck, in the middle of nowhere.”

“Only twenty more miles to go of this” Sam intoned.

[thatgoblin]

Small Town Affairs Chapter 3

I called in sick for Saturday and Sunday at the club. It was stupid, what with Brock demanded double the payment, but I couldn’t bring myself to go there. Clint kept messaging me and calling me, but I didn’t pick up. I had to cut ties with him before his pack got in trouble. Maybe it was time to leave town. Just pick up and go without saying goodbye or anything.

Peggy would be sad, but she would probably understand. Brock wouldn’t care. John though, he’d track me down and bring me back. Unless I left on his terms, he would never let me go. The stress had a hold on me and the very thought of going to work on Monday had me nearly vomiting. What else could I do?

Monday rolled around and I felt awful. I almost gave in to calling Peggy, but I forced myself to go in. Instead of coffee, I opted for tea in hopes of it settling my stomach. It would leave me exhausted all day, but I knew coffee wouldn’t be a good idea. I made sure to cover any marks Brock may have left behind with foundation before heading out.

“Good morning, Hazel,” Peggy said from her office as I walked in. “How was your weekend?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it,” I said as I grabbed my paperwork and drawer.

“What’s happened?” She asked, standing up and following me. “Did Brock or John do something?”

“Peggy, it’s fine, I’m just tired,” I said with a groan as I put my things away.

“No, what have they done? Have they said something? Did John show up at your home?” She asked, pushing it.

“Peggy, please!” I cried, slamming my drawer shut. “I cannot talk about it. If I do then I will not be able to work, so please just let it go. I know you mean well, but I am not in a good headspace and would like to just get through my day with mind numbing work.”

She was quiet for a moment, not used to me snapping at her. I felt bad, she was just trying to look out for me and there I was being an ass to her.

“Alright then. If you decide to actually ask for help for once, you know where I’ll be,” she said curtly, her own voice wavering a bit. Turning on her heel, she went right back to her office to sit and work. I would talk to her later, maybe over dinner or something, but right then it was not good for me to open up about anything happening.

The morning rush came and went with no one asking about why I looked like the undead, but then again that’s probably why they didn’t ask. I had just finished my first break, having some tea and a danish helped my stomach settle as I was able to pretend nothing outside of work existed. But then the outside came in to burst that bubble.

We were slow, Peggy had gone to the bank for change and deposits, and there were just a few people getting small drinks from the vending machine in the back. It was quiet and I was able to calm down further, until John showed up. I knew my luck was running out because he wasn’t even giving anyone else a courtesy nod and smile.

“John, just leave,” I sighed as he came to stop at my register.

“Did he hurt you?” He asked, his voice low and hard. “He should have never laid a finger on you like that, Hazel.”

“You know damn well why he did it because you’re doing it right now,” I hissed back, looking around to make sure no one was paying us mind. “If you would just leave me alone, there wouldn’t be any issues.”

“He told me he was charging you double next time. I told him not to, that it wasn’t the deal and he knew it,” John said. I knew what he was doing, he always did it before when I was having issues with others. He would be the knight in shining armor and I was his damsel in distress.

“The reason this mess happened was because of you two, so stop acting like you’re innocent,” I snapped. “Now I am trying to work, so leave me alone and we can go back to the way things were with us pretending we didn’t exist to each other.”

“What if I don’t want to?” John said. His mouth was set in a firm line, his brow furrowed as he stared me down. “What if I don’t want to go back to pretending you don’t exist?”

“Well that’s too damn bad because I want nothing to do with you or Brock. Is it that hard to understand? You two blew it and no amount of crying or begging or bribing is gonna change that. We are through and if I could, I would have left town to never see either of you again,” I said. “So get it through that thick, stupid skull John and leave me the hell alone.”

“That’s how you want it?” He scoffed, sneering at me.

“That’s exactly how I want it,” I nodded.

“Be careful of what you wish for then.” Stepping away, he glared at me before leaving. I was shaking, full of anger and fear and frustration. It was a wonder I didn’t break down right there. That would be later in the afternoon when I was on break and Clint found me.

Sitting at the patio set that was behind the store, I was exhausted and just done with everything and everyone. All I wanted to do was go home and take a long, hot bath and have a few beers. Something simple that would let me quiet my head.

“Hazel?” Clint called as he rounded the corner to wave at me. I glanced at him before knocking back the rest of my tea. “Hey, how’s it going? Peggy said you were on break out here.”

“It’s going,” I said with a heavy sigh.

“Are you okay? I mean, Howard. . . He filled me in on what happened this last weekend and you weren’t answering my messages or calls-”

“Clint, we have known each other barely a week, what the hell do you think we are? Best friends? We tell each other every little secret and gossip about boys? I gave your mate several lap dances this weekend and he paid good money for them, maybe instead of bothering me with wanting to help, you should focus on your own pack because someone is obviously wandering,” I snarled. It was cruel and mean and the look on his face said it all. This wasn’t Clint’s mess and he was like Peggy, just trying to help. I had no right to talk to him like that, let alone throw his mate going to a strip club in his face. Howard had even said that Clint knew because he recognized me from the website.

“I get it,” he said softly. “You’re going through something. It’s scary and you’re angry and all your instincts are saying to lash out at everyone, even if they’re friends. I don’t know the details of your situation, but if you wanna talk or need a place to crash or any help I’m here.”

“You don’t even know me, why are you offering so much? What do you get out of it?” I snorted, shaking my head as my eyes stung.

“You’re a friend. My friend and if my friends need help, no matter the length of our relationship, I’m gonna be there. I needed someone when shit hit the fan for me and I didn’t have a friend or pack to help me, so if I can be at least one person in your life that offers you some support I’m gonna do it,” he said, taking the seat next to me. I was torn between pushing him away and falling into his arms because even with Peggy I had no one.

“I don’t. . . I don’t want you and yours in my mess,” I said softly, looking down. Sniffling I was on the verge of breaking down. “It’s just so much shit and it’s not worth getting hurt or worse over.”

“I will be the judge of that,” Clint said, knocking our knees together.

“No, Clint, it’s a lot and I can’t even ask Peggy for help. I can’t do that to her, let alone you,” I said.

“Then do this one thing for me,” Clint said. “If you just want to talk, I won’t follow up with any actions or tell anyone else, I’m here. You’re my only friend in this town and I appreciate you.”

“God, you city people are too nice,” I said with a snort, pulling my sleeves down to wipe my eyes.

“That’s kinda our thing. Well, our pack’s thing. You’d be surprised that half the time we find new people by accident,” he said with a chuckle.

“Somehow with the way things have gone, I don’t think I would be,” I said. Taking a deep breath, I stood up. “Well, my break is over and despite my emotional breakdown just beginning, I have to go back to work.”

“How about I bring you lunch tomorrow? We can have anything you’d like, I’ll even drive out of town for it,” Clint offered as he stood as well.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said. “But since you’re persistent, just a chicken sandwich special from the Maple Grill. It’s nothing fancy, but it beats a bologna sandwich.”

“Chicken sandwich special,” Clint nodded. “I got it. Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow, noon, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll be here,” I said with a nod. My chest wasn’t so tight and my stomach didn’t hurt so bad anymore. I was scared to think things might be turning up for me, but I wanted them too. “Clint, wait,” I said, grabbing his arm before he could go too far. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. It wasn’t okay and you were just trying to help.”

“Water under the bridge,” he said with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See ya,” I said, letting go to give him a wave.

Back inside, I ducked into the washroom to pat my eyes with some cold water before I went back to work. Peggy gave me a look as I came back to my register, but didn’t say anything. The rest of the day went by smoothly, some of the weight on my chest was gone and it was easier to breathe again.

“Need anything else, Peg?” I asked as I handed in my drawer and deposit.

“No, I think that will be all for today,” she said, opening the safe to put the money away. Spinning in her chair, she looked up at me as she took off her reading glasses. “I ran into John earlier today when I made some deliveries.”

“Oh God,” I groaned. “Peggy, I already told you-”

“No, listen,” she said, holding up her hand to stop me. “He’s worried about you and so am I. He told me about your conversation earlier and how you had a run in with Brock this weekend. I know you want to be on your own and have your own life, but maybe consider spending time with someone. Anyone. You’re isolating yourself and while I wasn’t going to say anything, you coming in upset this morning made me decide otherwise.”

“I know that you mean well, but I need you and John and Brock to let me be,” I said, forcing myself not to blow up at her like I did Clint. “I am trying to move on past them, but if everyone keeps trying to make me talk to them and act friendly with them it makes it so much harder.”

“If you still love them-”

“I don’t! God, Peggy, please!” I cried. “I don’t love them! They don’t love me! I was property to them! It may have looked so nice and happy on the outside, but it wasn’t! Towards the end of the relationship I wanted to die! They are not the good people that everything chooses to think they are!” I was losing it. Nearly a year of people trying to push me gently back to John and Brock had been tiring, but now with Peggy thinking I still loved them and that’s what I was struggling with on top of the past weekend had been my breaking point.

“Hazel, it couldn’t have been that bad,” she said, frowning as she looked at me confused.

“Not that bad?” I laughed. “Not that bad?” Shaking with tears no longer held back, I pulled off my long sleeved shirt despite Peggy protesting. “Does this look ‘Not that bad’!?” I cried, showing off the multitude of bite scars across my shoulders and back and neck. The short, half moon dips in my skin from nails digging in and tearing my neck, arms, and belly were on full display.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, covering her mouth. “Hazel, I am so, so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“No one does except me and them,” I said, pulling on my shirt. “Did you not think it was weird when I started wearing my hair down and long sleeves all the time? No one did. They didn’t bat an eyelash.”

“I just thought you were more comfortable,” she said softly. “It never occurred to me that they were abusing you.”

“It never does. Everyone has it set in their head that they’re the good guys and I’m this poor, pathetic Omega that was mentally unstable that they just wanna look after,” I snorted. “Even if people knew, they would still side with them because they like them more. John’s the sheriff and has been for the last five years and probably still will be for the foreseeable future. Nothing will happen to them, they’ll be fine.”

“But what about you? You won’t be fine. I’m sure that if people knew-” Peggy said before I stopped her.

“Think about it Peggy. Whenever an Omega comes out against an Alpha, especially a prominent one, what happens? Specifically in small towns,” I said. “What happened in your hometown?” She was quiet, realizing the answer. For as ‘liberal’ as she was, Peggy was still a product of her time and area.

“They were either called a liar and ignored till something worse happened or were forced to move due to the stigma,” she said.

“So what should I have done when the damn Sheriff is the Alpha that abused me? Because I would have loved for someone to tell me,” I said.

“I’m sorry, Hazel. You shouldn’t have had to go through that. No one should have to,” she said, pushing another rolling chair over for me. Taking it, I sat down to collect myself.

“It happened and there’s nothing I can do to change that,” I said, letting out a deep sigh.

“I know, but at least you’re not alone now,” Peggy said, reaching over to take my hand. I wanted to believe her, but then again she still didn’t understand it all. Clint was ready to lend an ear without giving advice or trying to fix things for me. It was strange to suddenly have this support after going it alone for so long. Almost like it wasn’t real.

“I should go home. I’m a mess and exhausted,” I said, standing up and pulling away. “Don’t say anything to anyone, okay? Brock doesn’t bother me and John only has a few times, but I don’t put up with him. It’ll be fine.”

“Then what were you stressed about from this weekend? What was that show of scars?” Peggy asked standing up. “If you’re fine, then why are you having a meltdown.”

“I’m not having a meltdown! If I was then you would know it,” I snapped. “Look, I just need to go home, okay? I don’t want to talk about it anymore, I don’t want anything done about it, so let’s just move on.”

Peggy was quick a moment before nodding.

“If that’s what you want,” she said softly.

“It is,” I said with a sigh.

“Very well then. I’ll see you tomorrow morning then,” she said, turning away from me.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” I replied. Grabbing my things, I left the store feeling almost as miserable as when I had arrived. I hadn’t wanted to hurt Peggy’s feelings, but it just felt like she was barely understanding what I was going through. I had to show her the scars left behind to convince her that I didn’t love John or Brock anymore.

The drive home was quiet and by the time I pulled into my driveway my stomach had finally settled. It didn’t last long though. There was a letter on my front door from my landlord, I knew his handwriting and he always left messages stuck in my door frame. I plucked it from the chipped wood to tear open the envelope.

‘As of next Monday, 5/29/2021, your rent due will go up $400.’

“You’ve got to be shittin’ me,” I snarled, opening my door as I pulled out my phone. When I called my landlord, he didn’t answer which I expected. However I did leave a lengthy message about how stupid this was and he couldn’t do that as well as hollow threats of getting a lawyer. There was no way he could have raised the rent so much suddenly without me signing something. Then again, did I have any money to fight it?

Stupid Brock and stupid John and stupid rent. I would have to just come up with the money. Sitting in my kitchen, I called Nick in hopes that I could start coming in more often. It would suck and I would be dead tired, but I wouldn’t be homeless.

“Sorry, no can do. All our dancers are showing up and doing extra shifts now. I was gonna give you a call to let you know that we didn’t need you this weekend. The owner is wanting me to lay off the part time dancers because we don’t have room anymore,” Nick said.

“Come on, what about serving? I can do that, I know you always have an extra need for those during the week,” I pleaded. “I’m desperate here, Nick. I got rent to make and my other job isn’t cuttin’ it.”

“I can see what I can do with that. It’s a downgrade in tips, but if you’re willing to work it I can see about getting you on from 9pm to close,” Nick said with a sigh. “That’d be everyday too. We can’t have part timers anymore. Owner wants us to cut down as much as we can.”

“Nick, I’ll take anything at this point,” I said. “Maybe. . . Do you know of any other clubs in the area?”

“Same owners, Hon,” he said. “It’s not just here, it’s everywhere.”

“Fuck, okay. Uh, let me know about the serving or if you need me to come in because someone else called out, just anything, please,” I said.

“I do what I can, but I can’t make promises. I’ll get back to you in a day or so,” Nick said. He was trying and that was all I could ask for.

“Thanks. Let me know when you find out,” I said, before hanging up. What the hell was I going to do?

[calpalirwin]

Stuck In My Head

Summary: Anon request- Idk if you've written anything about the quarantine yet? Idk if you feel comfortable right because weird topic. But I feel like Cal has been posting a lot about his mental health during this and it might be cool to explore like living along side him dealing with your own (this was the worst worded request I've ever submitted I'm sorry)

A/N: If you’re struggling, please reach out. I think it’s easy to feel alone, especially now. But please don’t listen to the voice in your head. You are not alone. And you are not bothering anyone. In fact, hearing from you makes our day. 

Content: Mental health awareness. 

Word Count: 1.4k

And away, and away we go!

__

Melody stared blankly at the television screen. The words “Stay at home order” should have hit deeper. But all she could think about was that it was a good idea Calum had run out to the store. 

“Geez it’s like a zoo out there,” Calum announced while the women continued to stare blankly as Governor Newsom continued his speech about his plans for California during these “troubling times.”

“Uh… Mel? Little help?” Calum asked, snapping his roommate out of her daze.

“Shit, sorry,” she apologized, rushing over to help him with the groceries.

“The news say anything?”

“Stay at home order. God knows for how long.”

“Shit, no wonder the stores were all packed.”

“Yeah. How’s this gonna work for your album next week?”

“Fuck…” The question was enough to stop his actions of unpacking the shopping bags. “Fuck..” he repeated. “We’ll figure something out. Probably last minute, but we’ll figure it out. What does this mean for you? You had that photoshoot planned, didn’t you?”

Melody nodded as they put the last of the groceries away. “Yeah, I’ll have to call my agency, and see what’s going on with that.”

“Well don’t stress too much about it,” Calum told her. “I mean, I know you. I know you’re gonna stress about it. But try not to do it too much.”

Melody rolled her eyes. “Yeah I’ll try not to be too torn up over how now sitting on ass is a contribution to society. Every introvert's dream come true.”

Calum chuckled. “I’m just sayin’. If you need me, I’m here. Same as always.”

~~~

Again, Melody was staring blankly at the television screen. The noise was soothing even though she couldn’t focus on the show. She hadn’t been able to focus on much in the last month since quarantine hit. Her job was on hiatus until further notice, and while there was plenty for her to do around the house, she couldn’t bring herself to enjoy it the way she once had.

During the first week she had tried to settle into a routine to keep some semblance of normalcy. But as the days dragged by, time became almost irrelevant. Most nights were spent staring up at her ceiling, watching the fan spin in circles. It took effort to drag herself out of bed before noon. Still, she fought to go through the motions. But it was hard when there was no real reason to. While logically she knew she could get in her car and go visit her friends the way Calum had done with Michael, the excuse of not was heavier than her want. What was there to talk about that couldn’t be said through text anyway? She wanted to see her friends so she could go out with them. But there was nowhere to go out to. And it wasn’t like she didn’t have company because Calum was stuck at home just like she was.

Calum, she was beginning to realize, was the only reason she was bothering putting herself through the paces. She might be sleeping late and wandering around with a blank expression, but at least she was showering, wearing clothes other than sweats, and eating. So she supposed she could be doing a whole lot worse.

But Calum had been right. With the world quiet, there was nothing to drown out the screaming in her mind. Her thoughts swirled angrily in her head and the only relief came through sleep, which of course had been evading her. She had always dealt with insomnia, but having no real routine made it that much worse. She could be on the verge of falling asleep, but it was like the second her head hit the pillow and she finally closed her eyes, she found her energy. Only it wasn’t energy to do anything besides stay awake. Awake and listening to the thoughts.

~~~

Melody watched as the ceiling fan spun around in a hypnotizing circle, jealous that it was moving, unlike her. It had been almost ten weeks now and she was just as lost as she had been when this started. Logically she knew there was nothing for her to worry about. Calum and her were healthy. They all had more money than they knew what to do with. Groceries and other things were being shipped to their doorstep. There was nothing actually wrong. But no amount of talking on the phone with her family and friends, or taking Duke out for small walks around the neighborhood with Calum was enough to shake the feeling of emptiness. Like everything was pause, but it was only on pause for her. Her roommate had managed to stay plenty busy with his music in spite of everything coming to a complete standstill. And while she knew that had nothing to do with her, she couldn’t stop the comparison no matter how hard she tried.

If you need me, I’m here. Same as always.

“Even at… 2:47 am, Cal?” she whispered in the dark as she climbed out of bed.

She paused outside of his bedroom door, debating. It was late. He was probably fast asleep. She should probably just go back to her own room and try again to fall asleep. “Cal?” she asked, her voice low as she entered the dark bedroom. “Cal, are you awake?”

She heard the jingle of Duke’s collar as the dog woke up to readjust himself on the bed. Calum’s arm moved out from under the covers, patting around beside him. “Duke, go back to sleep,” he grumbled, still more or less fully asleep.

“Cal, it’s me,” Melody told him, moving further into the bedroom.

“Mel,” Calum acknowledged as he yawned. “Just Mel, Duke.”

“Cal, scooch over,” she directed as she swallowed her hesitation and edged herself onto his bed.

“Mel, shh. I’m sleepin’,” Calum scolded lightly, but he rolled over in his sleep, allowing her to curl up next to him.

“Keep sleeping, then,” she whispered at him.

Again, he rolled over in his sleep, his arm falling across her. He startled awake, not expecting to find a body there. “Fuck, Mel! Way to give a guy a heart attack! What are you doing in here? Some watchdog you are, Duke…” His voice lost the heaviness of sleep as he worked himself awake with his rambling.

Melody stared up at Calum’s ceiling, watching the fan make its rounds, feeling stupider by the second.

“Mel?” Calum prompted after a good minute or two of silence. “Everything okay?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“Mmm, so bothering me seemed like a good idea?”

Melody rolled her eyes and pushed into his shoulder, his chuckle a deep rumble. “You said you were here if I needed you, yeah?”

“Course.”

“Well I need you.”

He shifted in bed to sit up against the headboard, draping an arm across her shoulder. “Took you long enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, leaning against his shoulder.

“You were going off the deep end before this started.”

“And you didn’t think to say anything?”

He shrugged. “If I approached you, you would get defensive, and retreat further inside yourself.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“So what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Feeling like a failure. Like no matter how fast I move towards my future, I still feel like I’m getting left behind somehow. Like what I'm doing doesn’t measure up to what other people my age are doing.”

“And with the world at a standstill, you don’t have the noise to silence that voice.”

“Exactly. I mean, I’m cooped up in here for days on end. With nothing but my thoughts to keep me company. And as much as I know that voice is wrong, there’s nothing to dispute it. And it feels weird to complain that I feel useless and helpless when I know that there are people out there who are actually struggling. People who can’t make ends meet even when they did have jobs to go to.”

“Okay, but that’s not how pain works. You’re allowed to hurt, too.”

“But I don’t want to hurt, Cal. That's the whole problem. I don’t want to feel like this.”

“Well, what do you want?”

“I don’t know. This maybe? To be held by someone I know cares about me.”

“Touch-starved?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Well, good. So am I.” He shifted one last time to lay down on his side, pulling Melody’s back to his chest. “Do you mind?”

“No, not at all. This is…” her voice choked around the words, cutting off her sentence.

Calum’s chin rubbed in her hair as he nodded. “I know. I got you, and you got me, right?”

“Always, Cal, always.”

__

Tag List

@frontmanash​ @goeatsomelife​ @flameraine​ @here-for-the-uproars​ @cxddlyash​ @1-irwin-94​ @sparkling-calm​ @tea4sykes​ @youngblood199456​ @5-seconds-of-obsession​ @gosh-im-short​ @aquarius-hood1996​ @talkfastromance4​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​ @philthepegacorn​ @boomerash​

[hencethebravery]

>> first and last lines writing game <<

I’ve been writing all wknd so I’m going to take advantage of that and play these games that @eirabach has been doing. I love you, boo.

Tagging: @jump-on-winds-back @mymostimaginaryfriend @justanotherwannabeclassic @distant-rose @jadeddiva @soft-october-night

>> 01. last line(s) you’ve written

01. wip, “dearly departed,” spn, deancas: Despite all this, and perhaps in keeping with his own preference for following through on his habits, he has never once stayed for Open Mic Night. It’s not as if he has anything against it in theory, he just never felt especially compelled to do so. And he was never a big fan of crowds generally.

“You should think about staying tonight,” Meg advises, sliding his third cup back over the counter. “I’ve heard this guy before, he’s good.”

02. wip, “the apportioners,” og: Case in point: Never betray a demi-god. Particularly one so unbelievably busted. Who would go so far as to force her to watch the other demi-god she is almost certainly (and regrettably) falling in love with, commit one more atrocity. To force her to watch her son die. Again. To force her to watch him choose between her and his family. Far, far more trouble than they’re worth. And sure—sure. She is angry. She may well always be angry. And yet. There’s the kitchen. The small, warm kitchen with the cream-colored tiled floors, inlaid with red grout. Where Edie makes too much bread and Estelle stores her spelled sourdough starters. Where Greg made her a cup of chamomile tea and described the unique softness of Clemente’s thread—how it curled and straightened and existed. And so she refuses. She refuses to do what some other irreparably broken version of her friend has expected her to do.

So. She lets him go. Again.

>> 02. first lines of my last 20 10 (20 is just... so fucking many; if you wanna do 20 be my guest but i have shit to do today) fics

01. wip, “dearly departed,” spn, deancas: Creative writing is so not his forte and really, what’s there to say about The Lodge that hasn’t already been said? A revolving door of adjectives that infect the collegiate discourse every few years—when some starry-eyed freshman sees the tall, thin door frame in all its carved, unknowable glory and gets it in their sweet, sweet head that surely no one has ever thought to opine on the virtues of a local, now-legendary establishment that seems to have haunted Main Street since long before time began. So, what is there to say that hasn’t already been said?

02. complete, “untitled,” spn, deancas: The two of ‘em establish the somewhat rude habit of bailing during get-togethers without telling anyone. They stop answering their phones at any point before noon shortly after that. He’d call it a side effect of New Couple Syndrome (NCS), but it’s something they continue doing long after any reasonable person would call something “new” (and honestly, he’s not even sure you could say it was “new” when it was new, technically).

03. complete, “untitled,” spn, deancas: There’s a fucking manticore in Memphis. Seriously. Human face, body of a lion, the whole freakin’ nine.

“Certainly one of the more… imaginative of God’s creatures,” Castiel muses, “albeit, unsustainable.” 

04. complete, “herbalist’s guide to skyrim,” star wars, reylo: Rey Kenobi really needed to get in the habit of bringing dates to restaurants she had no emotional attachment to. She had already lost an unacceptable number of extremely dear favorites that had been there for her when she’d had less than nothing and now? Blighted by the memory of mediocre men who she knew she had given far too much power. She knew she had an association problem, okay? She and her mildly overpriced therapist were working on it. Had been working on it. For a while. She really missed the dumplings from Hunger Pang.

05. complete, “a grief observed,” star wars, reylo: The presumptive triumph inherent to the return of the self? Painfully short-lived. It is brief and blinding and there is a feeling akin to invincibility singing in his veins. A humming that echoes in the gruff tenor of what could only be his father’s voice. How it must have felt when the heroes made yet another daring escape—against all the odds. The euphoria that occurs when you have begun to think that maybe, just maybe, you’ve finally won. It makes the loss so much worse than he could have ever imagined. Not when you’ve gotten so close to having everything you never even knew you wanted. And that’s half the battle, isn’t it? Knowing what you want. Like it’s easy.

06. complete, “a super solid history of the “good old fashioned lover boy(s),” c. the beginning (or there about) to now-ish,” good omens, aziraphale x crowley: Perhaps one of the cruelest tricks that God has ever played (and the list was indeed long) was in allowing angels to believe they were incapable of love. There is some amount of debate as to whether or not this was entirely by accident. She was a busy woman after all━perhaps that was why it, the question of whether or not angels were truly capable of love, had slipped through one of her metaphysical cracks (of which, admittedly, there were many). Those who managed to refrain from falling had quite an easier time believing this particular theory to be very much the case. A largely unspoken, slightly offended, “She would never,” followed by an affirmation of the belief in the long held assumption that they were above such things anyway, so really, what did it even matter, and can we please return to the task at hand?

07. complete, “first family,” ouat, captain charming: If the chronically thin, awkward, and punk-ass 15 year old version of Killian Jones could have, somehow, opened a portal in time and space; a feat which might have allowed him to peer into the future in an attempt to witness what it might hold, he would have likely imbibed several ill-advised shots of cheap bloody rum, and then quite dramatically flung himself atop the rumpled sheets of his perpetually unmade bed. If the younger Jones had even an inkling of the type of life he’d be living as a 35 year old man─with a full time job, a mortgage, a husband, one wildly photogenic dog─he would have done everything in his power to steer himself off such a disturbingly clean-cut, well-behaved course.

08. complete, “untitled,” ouat, captain swan: Rather predictably (and not without a somewhat inevitable feeling of frustration), Emma Swan was one of those people who had never put much stock in the notion of “vibes.” She had a “freaking superpower,” according to Ruby, which allowed her to suss out the truth about people, but as soon as Ruby suggested that the same might be true of certain places, Emma had chuckled, as if it was some unheard of thing.

09. complete, “untitled,” ouat, captain charming: In the end, he’d chosen the place because to be quite bloody honest it was precisely where you might expect the writer of an obscure indie mag to live. It was an older building (a suitably generous designation), tucked in between the modernist monstrosities of the last 20 or 30 years. Replete with gorgeous, if not ill-kept, accoutrements framing the windows; crumbling steps and a brick exterior in varying shades of red and orange. The aesthetic was rounded out by the kind of neglectful landlord you might expect, a horrid man who frequently enjoyed reminding his tenants that he lived, “out of state,” and they’d have to, “be patient.”

10. complete,” untitled,” ouat, captain charming: There’s an old adage about assumptions that Killian Jones finds physically repulsive. It is so unerringly awful, in fact, that he won’t even deign to repeat the thing in his own head. You know what it is, it’s not as if he needs to speak the actual words. And regardless of the fact that there’s this old, tired saying about assumptions, people still do it, and he’s done it, and ya know what? It kind of worked out in his favor, so, take that.

[darker-soft-starker]

My Best Friends Dad Pt. 2 (Pt.1, Pt.3, Pt.4)

4.9k tagging: @starkerkitty @keepingupwiththekardamomme @valiantthewriter

December had brought Peter back home for the winter holidays, saddled with a duffle full of laundry he’d never gotten around to doing and bone-deep exhaustion. The first thing he did upon arrival was flop down on his bed and sleep for fourteen hours straight, still in his jeans and sneakers, drooling onto his pillow. Second was to spend some proper time with his Aunt - and the third was catching up with his friends. His dear, dear friends. 

“I can’t believe he broke up with you, what an asshole.”

Pursing his lips around the straw of his strawberry milkshake and sucking, Peter watches the interaction with interest as MJ shrugs from across the table. She doesn’t look too bothered by her recent single status if the disinterested lift of her shoulders is of any indication.

“Tinder boys. I’m not exactly heartbroken,” is all she says in response, stealing a fry from Neds’ plate and chewing it leisurely.

Peter raises his eyebrows at her in a deliberate fashion, dipping his chin when she catches his dubious gaze.

“What’re you looking at, nerd?”

“Since when are you on Tinder?” he asks, reaching over to steal a fry of his own, frowning when Ned slaps his wrist.

“Question is, Petesicle,” Harley cuts in, nabbing his own fry from Ned’s plate, “why are you not on Tinder?”

Peter shrugs, the back of his neck going warm. “I just like meeting people the old fashion way?”

“Vintage,” MJ nods.

“It’s not vintage.”

“Can you guys stop,” Ned interrupts as all three go to reach for his plate at the same time. It’s par for the course that he gets ignored by everyone. Huffily conceding defeat  he slides the meal into the centre of the table. Ned’s nice like that, Peter thinks as he steals two more fries.

“What about him, he’s your type, right?” Harley says, pointing towards a tall male at the entrance of the diner. Peering over, the man looks to be in his thirties, carries himself with careless ease, hair sandy and artfully windswept. It’s the middle of winter but he’s in a t-shirt, undoubtedly to parade the bulge of his biceps.

Peter shakes his head. “Really not my type.”

“Dude, he’s fucking hot,” his best friend says in near disbelief, leering shamelessly and winking when the man notices him staring. “He’s my type.”

“He’s like twice your age,” Ned adds, eyebrows drawing together as he assesses the guy. “He probably has a kid or something.”

“Yeah, so? That just means he has more experience.”

“Amen to that,” MJ says, fistbumping Harley even as Ned fixes them a judging stare.

Peter watches as the guy walks towards the counter, hips swaying with an over-confident swagger. The sunglasses tucked into the collar of his cotton shirt drags the material down to reveal the skin of his chest, shiny and hairless. The guy even winks flirtatiously at the poor girl behind cashier who looks distinctly unimpressed.

“Yeah, no thanks.”

MJ rolls his eyes at him, kicking her foot out under the table and connecting with his shin. “Okay, and when was the last time you got your dick wet, Parker?”

Peter kicks her back.

“Does it matter?”

“Dunno dude, you seem a little tense.”

“Yeah, because I’m busy with school and work. Getting some isn’t exactly a top priority right now.”

“You’re on winter break,” MJ corrects.

He somehow barely withholds the urge to gesture wildly around him, as if to articulate his lack of options, the only people in the diner besides them and the not-hot guy being an elderly couple and some middle-school kid. He fails to suppress the heat that noticeably paints his cheeks pink, forever uncomfortable with being the centre of attention. His friends are the absolute worst. He’s going to put them all up for sale.

“I’m just...enjoying being single for once. Y’know, just happy to just be by myself.”

Even Ned stares at him blankly. “There’s no one in this entire town you would mess around with?”

Peter scoffs. “No.”

“Not even the hot girl that works at Dairy Queen?”

“No.”

“Dude, even I’d fuck her,” MJ adds, looking slightly offended on her behalf.

“Can I remind everyone that I’m here to spend time with May and you guys - I’m not here to get laid?”

--

“Oh fuck, fuck… Tony that’s, ahh yeah, right there --”

Using the grip he has on Tony’s hair, he manoeuvres him to bring his lips from where they were sucking at his neck up to his own. Tony doesn’t falter at the change, and surges forward to deepen their kiss, groaning into Peters’ mouth. God, Tony is so good with his tongue, Peter thinks as their kiss turns filthy, the mans stubble coarse against his chin as their lips slide together. His friends weren’t wrong about men with experience - although it might just be natural talent too.

The hands on his ass squeeze tighter and he can’t help but arch his back a little, moaning as Tony bites at his bottom lip. Peter sits perched on a dusty worktable with Tony firmly between his legs, they’re wrapped together so tightly he can no longer smell the sawdust and engine oil.

“We should, uh -” he pants against Tony’s mouth, pulling back a little. “We should slow down. Harley could…”

“Yeah,” the man agrees, but doesn’t pull away. If anything, he uses the grip on Peter’s ass to slide him closer. Tony dips his head to latch on to a sensitive spot beneath his jaw, scraping his teeth against the skin and soothing it with his tongue.

“I’m - hahh, oh my god - I’m serious,” Peter insists, even as he locks his ankles behind Tony and grinds his hips forwards, seeking friction against the mans stomach. It’s hard to remember what his point was, head hazy with the scratch of stubble against his neck, in perfect conjunction with the wet, sucking heat of Tony’s mouth, the pinch of his teeth against the column of Peter’s throat.

What was he saying again?

Oh, right.

“Harley might --”

Tony pulls back a little to give him a judgemental stare, but pointedly keeps his hands on Peter’s ass.

“You’ve said my sons’ name more in the past five minutes than you have mine. Should I be worried? Working a bit harder? Feedback is always appreciated, just not always considered.”

Although he knows the affrontedness is all an act, the man just looks looks so put out, pouting ever so slightly,  Peter can’t help but cup Tony’s cheeks, planting a quick kiss on his lips. Tony predictably tries to deepen it but Peter leans back, grinning.

“I’m just saying, he’s gonna wake up soon and wonder where we are.”

Tony sighs, head tilting downward. “Were you always such a boy scout?”

“Were you always such a horny, old lech?” Peter retorts, carding his fingers through Tony's hair as the man noses along his neck.

“Yes,” Tony says seriously, nipping at the skin sharply. “Since birth.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep, I’m told it’s incurable. Don’t want to complain or anything, but it’s a real hardship.”

“Yeah,” Peter agrees, smiling dumbly as Tony leans in to brush their lips together. “I can tell.”

For a few quiet moments they trade slow, lazy kisses, Peter easily sinking into the warmth of the man in front of him and relaxing into his embrace. It’s not hard to be with Tony like this, wrapped in their little bubble, like nothing outside it exists and quickly forgetting it does.

One of the Tony’s hands slip under his shirt to delicately caress the small of his back, calloused fingers sending tingles up his spine. Peter is almost tempted to say fuck it and throw off his shirt, hop off the table, sink to his knees and give Tony the sloppiest blow-job of his life. But he knows his best friend too well. As much as it’s a turn off to think, he knows that after a good solid ten hours sleep Harley’d be crawling out of bed - which would be right around now.

“I just missed you, baby,” Tony says against his lips when they part, the words a vibration against Peters mouth, big brown eyes are soft and glazed as they track over Peter’s face.

“Missed you too,” he whispers between them.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come up to see you more often.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t be, its --”

“No, I should have --”

“Dad, you in there?” Harleys voice yells from a few feet away, outside. “Have you seen Peter?”

“Fuck,” Peter mutters, pushing Tony away from him and sliding off the table. His heart pounds as he straightens his shirt and adjusts himself in his jeans. Tony does the same and calls out to confirm they’re both in the garage.

They spare a shared glance as they continue efforts to themselves look more presentable and Peter can only hope that his lips don’t look as kiss-swollen as Tonys’ do. There’s no more than a spare second to arrange themselves at the open hood of a car before the garage door swings open, handle banging against the wall.

“ - and that’s how you can tell the difference between a problem with the alternator and a problem with the engine coils,” Tony directs to Peter, gesturing to the parts with a wrench he picked up from somewhere.

Peter nods studiously at the ‘lesson’ before turning his head back towards his friend, heart racing. “Morning,” he greets, hoping his smile looks natural and not like he was humping his friends dad a minute ago.

“Hey, look who’s up,” Tony says loudly, half turning to give his son an unimpressed stare. “And before noon! Did you wet the bed or something, kid?”

“Fuck off, dad,” Harley yawns, shuffling between them and staring down at the rusted engine. “What’re we working on?”

Tony seems to freeze for a split second while thinking of a suitable excuse and Peter blabs to fill in the silence.

“May. Uh, she’s having trouble with her car, it’s um, starting weird? Tony was showing me what might be the issue.”

“Cool,” Harley replies, uninterested. “What’s for breakfast?”

Peter barely reigns in the sigh of relief, sparing a shared glance with Tony over his friends bowed head.

“Lunch,” Tony corrects, dropping the wrench and wiping his hands on a discarded rag. “And you’re on sandwich duty. Thanks for offering kid, I’ll have a BLT.”

“Oh, c’mon --”

“I’ll help,” Peter says, rolling his eyes as he leads his friend out of the garage, casting a look back at Tony and heading through to the house. If Harley catches the second-too-long stare between his friend and his father, he doesn’t say anything. It feels like they dodged a bullet - again.

Truth is, Peter isn’t sure how much longer that he and Tony can keep this a secret - or even if he wants to. It’s getting harder to find excuses to come over or to give reasons why he isn’t seeing anybody. It’s becoming difficult to look at his best friend in the eye and not blurt out the truth.

Over the course of the semester Tony made the lengthy drive up to campus a few times to spend a weekend with him. He doesn’t know what Tony told his son as an excuse for the sporadic weekends away, but whatever it was seemed to circumvent any suspicion.

And it was... really nice. They got a handful of days in a town where no one knew them, where they could openly be together. They’d go on real dates, holding hands in restaurants and smiling at each other over the table, there were cheek kisses as they embraced on the sidewalk, hands in each others back pockets. Mostly though, time was spent in Peter’s shared apartment, alone in his bedroom, taking advantage of not needing to hide for once. His housemates didn’t care who he was fucking so there were no furtive glances or kisses. Peter liked both - the thrill of getting caught and the calm that being open brought - but it was nice to not have to lie.

It wasn’t all sex, either. Sprawled in bed, sated and spent, there were conversations between them that could fill libraries. Over dinner it was all witty banter and sharing stories about their lives and common interests. It was feet in laps and sharing the bathroom sink as they brushed their teeth together.

It was... intimate.

Peter has never had a relationship like this before. Girlfriends and boyfriends, yes, but they seemed so casual in comparison. At some point over the last six month this thing with Tony had become something more. He was important.

Having something that important made his guilt all the worse that he was hiding it from the people that matter to him most. He’d find himself getting worked up over it, but then Tony would call or send him a text saying he can’t wait to see him again and suddenly it’s like he’s on cloud nine. It was like he perpetually oscillated between guilt and delight.

There will be consequences down the track, Peter knows. But this is okay, for now.

“Dude, what’s wrong with your neck - did you get a rash?”

It has to be, he thinks, as he lies through his teeth.

-------

“So I got that job,” Ned says from where he lies on Peters floor, staring dazedly up at the ceiling.

“Congrats, dude,” Peter replies, although he has no idea what job Ned applied for.

To his left, Harley groans loudly as he struggles to sit up, gesturing to the copious boxes of take out on the floor. “Does that mean you’re paying for the next round?”  

They’re all in a similar state, utterly overstuffed and seconds away from slipping into a food coma should they close their eyes. The only two that seem to be holding up from their Thai feast were Betty and MJ, currently trash-talking each other over a round of Mario Kart, acting as if tryptophan is no match for them.

It’s good to be home, he thinks.

“Where’s May?” Ned asks in lieu of answering Harley, shifting to sit up and directing his attention to Peter.

“At work,” he replies distractedly, busy firing back a flirty text at Tony. “Should be home soon.”

“Did she clean out your room? It smells nicer,” Harley comments, sniffing around idly.

“Yep.”

Another text lights up his phone which he reads instantly. He nods vaguely at his friends question, not caring how eager he seems to Tony, fingers working rapid-fire to respond quickly.

“Did she say it smelled like jizz and feet in here?”

“Yeah,” Peter responds, not really listening.

“Do you smell like jizz and feet?”

“Mhmm.”

“Are you made of jizz and feet?”

“Sure.”

“Who are you texting, jizz-feet?”

“Yeah - hey!” He cries out as the phone is swiftly plucked out of his hands. His whole body goes numb. stomach dropping to his feet as he sees Harley scrolling through the texts.

A surge of panic and adrenaline has him reaching forward quick as a gunshot, arm outstretched to take the device back out of his friend's hand. Once it’s safely back in his grasp he fixes his friend a withering stare.

“Uncool, dude,” Peter says, punching his friend in the thigh.

God, how much did Harley read? Fuck. He tries to run over in his mind if his friend was recently mentioned in them or if Peter ever referred to Tony by his name. Shit.

Harley doesn’t seem to be suspicious or upset, smiling crookedly at Peter in the same way he always does and raising his hands up in surrender. Their friends titter at their antics and some of the tension bleeds out of him.

“Sorry, Pete.”

“No you’re not, nosy asshole.”

Harley shrugs. “I’m not. I’m also not sure who Missus is, but I guess that answers the question of why you’re not getting laid.”

“Wha --”

“Pete’s got a girlfriend, guys.”

“Ooh, who is she?” Betty asks, abandoning her focus on the game to join in on the conversation. The interested, earnest grin that she directs toward Peter is both disturbing and worrying.

“Is it the girl that keeps giving you half price coffee at Perry’s?” Ned joins in, knocking over a half-empty carton of rice to edge closer.

Peter issues him a judgemental glare to try to mask the mounting panic racing through his blood. Confused as to how they came to the conclusion that he’s dating a woman, he tries to piece together the dots - missus - and then it hits him. 

He had lazily saved Tony’s contact as mrs - as in Mr. S, the formality from when he’d first met the man and politely referred to him as his guardians had taught him. It had been Mr. Stark in the beginning.

He silently thanks every deity known to him that Harley didn’t come to the correct conclusion and sends a mental middle-finger to every teacher who harped on about his grammar.

“I bet it’s his physics professor and that’s why he’s keeping it a secret,” MJ speculates, abandoning her controller to look him over.

He can’t help it. The attention and subsiding anxiety has his face burning.

“First of all, gross,” he says, pointing a finger at MJ. “She’s like ninety. Second, they’re not my girlfriend, it’s just a thing.”

“A thing,” she repeats drily.

“Yes, a thing. Can you please drop it?”

He almost says they’re not real, which would be closer to the truth because there is no she involved at all - instead what comes out of his mouth is another terrible lie to cover up something that he tells himself everyday isn’t wrong, just misunderstood.

It feels a little wrong though, when he doesn’t bother to correct his friends, feels like an asshole both to Tony and to everyone else. It’s one of the biggest secrets he’s ever kept, something that makes him so happy - and that’s what’s ironic - undercover everyone is satisfied, it’s the reveal that will rock the boat. There isn’t a way this ends well in the open. 

Harley, sensing his unease is the one to call off the troops. It’s why he’s Peter’s best friend, after all.

“Alright, whatever Petey-poo. Keep it to yourself.”

“Thanks, Harls.”

The guy shrugs and the conversation quickly changes to Christmas plans. He tries to keep track of the flow of words, despite the deafening beat of his heart in his ears. The guilt of harvesting such lies crawls up on him like slime, leaving its potent residue wherever it touches.

Not for the first time he wonders if he’s in over his head.

-------

Christmas comes and goes, modest as ever in the Parker household. He gifts May with a set of acrylic paints and a few cheap canvas, and he gets socks and sweaters along with a new chess set in return.

The time spent up to new years is speckled with group hangouts, in duos or all together, taking long drives or just shooting the shit, drinking cheap alcohol and mourning their sparse bank accounts. The longer he’s back home, the more the strange, floaty dissonance from re-entering his old life disappears. He eats way too much, has many grand plans of getting ahead on next semester readings, but ends up doing none.

It’s good. 

Except...he wants. He tries not to push his hangouts with Harley to be at the Stark household in order to alleviate suspicion - but it’s been almost a week since he’s seen Tony and he just wants to be with him. The late night calls and daily texts are great, but it’s not the same as being together, especially since now they're only a short drive away.

Growing increasingly desperate, he considers renting a motel room for them or getting a hold of Mays schedule so he can plot out a timetable to have Tony over. Turns out all of that is unnecessary when Tony texts him first.

>> so…Harley is going away for the weekend

A smile lights up on his face, fingers shaking with how swiftly they type out a response.

<< oh yeah? sounds like it might get lonely having that house to yourself

>> exactly. I was thinking of inviting this cute guy around to stay but not sure if he’d say yes.

<< pretty sure he would say yes. he’d be an idiot not to

>> better not be an idiot then. see you saturday morning, beautiful?

<< c u then xo

He falls back on his bed, grinning.

The week leading up couldn’t go slower, dragging on and feeling what seems like a hundred days. It doesn’t diminish Peters excitement though, if anything the anticipation only amplifies as he the days wear on. He finds ways to busy himself with video games and starting his studies - and then finally it’s the day.

With his worn duffle slung over his shoulder he tells May with a kiss to her cheek that he’s going to be staying at the Stark’s for the weekend. She waves him off disinterestedly, telling him to behave and have fun and he doesn’t need to be told twice, he’s out the door. He plans to have a lot of fun indeed. 

Twenty minutes later he’s rolling up to the Stark household, Harley’s old truck noticeably missing from the driveway. He drops his bike around the side of the house, wiping his hands on his jeans and approaching the front door with the intention to knock. 

Except Tony swings it open before his knuckles make contact. The sight that the older man makes in makes his mouth dry, donned in his typical wife-beater and jeans. It couldn’t have been longer than a week since they’d last seen each other but the need to touch the other man is so visceral that he’s barely inside the house before Peter’s on him.

Dropping the bag at his feet, his freed up hands to clasp the nape of Tony’s neck, leaning in to connect their lips. Hands settle on his waist as Tony tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

“Hello to you too,” Tony says, pulling back wearing a smile on his face.

Peter feels his own smile forming in response. “Did you miss me?”

Tony pretends to think. “Nope. Not even remotely.”

“Good, me neither. Didn’t spare you a single thought.”

“Same, I almost forgot who you were,” Tony quips back, smile still on his face as he leans down to grab Peter’s bag, kissing his temple before leading him into the house by the hand.

“Guess that’s what happens in your old age,” Peter says as they wander to Tony’s room where his belongings are dropped by the bed.

“Brat.”

“Senior.”

Tony hauls him in by the waist until their bodies are flushed together. Peter laughs as Tony wetly kisses the hinge of his jaw, prickly facial hair tickling the sensitive spot. That’s not where he wants the older man, so he places a palm on Tony’s cheek to gently direct him back up to capture his lips in a bruising kiss. As Tony’s tongue enters through he seam of his mouth he groans, snaking a hand down to palm at Tony’s crotch through his jeans.

“Didn’t anyone teach you to respect your elders?” Tony says, voice strangled as Peter continues his ministrations.

“That went out the window when I fucked an elder,” Peter snarks, shoving Tony to sit at the edge of the bed and sinking to his knees.

“That’s fair.”

He leans forward to nuzzle at Tony’s crotch, mouthing wetly at the denim and running his hands slowly up the man's thighs. He feels Tony’s cock slowly hardening under his lips, a thrill of its own that he has any sort of effect on someone like Tony. The soft groans and twitching fingers has Peter helping him out, unbuttoning and lowering the zip of the fly, pushing the jeans down enough to free Tony’s cock.

Without hesitating, he takes hold of it loosely with his hand, jacking it and looking up at Tony dutifully when fingers under his chin direct his face upwards. 

Pupils blown, Tony presses a thumb to Peter’s bottom lip, running it lightly over the seam before Peter opens him mouth, sucking the digit in.

“Look at you,” Tony says fervently as his cock is getting worked. “Any of those college boys ever tell you how gorgeous you are?”

Peter releases the thumb in his mouth to duck his head, a vain attempt to hide the blush that crawls over his cheeks. He doesn’t trust himself to speak with the heat coiling up his gut and into his heart, so he shakes his head no and places a tender kiss on the head of Tony’s cock instead, laving at it with his tongue.

“They couldn’t appreciate a good thing,” Tony continues, gently carding a hand through Peters hair.

There is no suppressing the quiet whine that comes out his throat, even as he takes the entire head into his mouth. He missed Tony. He missed these moments, how good they make each other feel. 

He kisses down the length of Tonys cock, mouthing at the base, trimmed pubic hair brushing his cheek. Rising back up he does his best to take the whole thing in his mouth, both girthy and long, stuttering two-thirds of the way through. At first gag he pulls off, using his hand to take what he can’t while he blinks away the tears from his eyes.

Breathing deeply he tries again, focusing on the texture of skin, the salty taste of pre-cum and sweat as he bobs up and down. He’s helpless when he looks up at Tony, expecting his head to be tilted back - instead he’s met with half-lidded eyes, hitched breaths and eye contact that goes on too long to be considered casual.

“Just like that, sweetheart,” Tony encourages as Peter continues his ministrations, spurring his motivation further. As the man traces his cheekbone Peter takes special care to pay attention to the mans balls, fondling the sack with his spare hand and taking time to suckle at them, just to hear Tony’s helpless groans.

Tears spring to his eyes when he refocuses his attention to the mans cock, the head hitting the back of his throat, but the way the hand in his hair scraps his scalp in rapture has him doubling his efforts.

“Christ, baby. Didn’t know I’d been waiting for you all this time,” Tony says, voice raspy, hips undulating. 

Whether it’s the movement or the words, tears slip down Peter’s cheeks, his heart doing something weird.

It’s only a few more moments of working Tony’s cock before the man is warning him, legs locking up on either side of his shoulders as he cums, spilling into Peter’s mouth with a groan.

Tony, swiftly gathering his wits, helps Peter off his knees and onto the bed, kissing him soundly before Peter barely has a chance to swallow the load. It’s dirty, intimate, and makes his cock throb even more than any of the previous behavior. He breaks their kiss to strip himself out of his shirt, pulling himself out of his jeans to attend to his own erection.

The sweat on his palm is just enough to make the friction pleasurable, spilling his release over onto his hands after only a handful of strokes. 

Sated and breathless, he flops back onto the bed, resting on his elbows and grinning up at Tony.

“So, what do you want to do this weekend?”

“Oh, I can think of a few things.”

---

For all their fervent hurriedness things don’t really escalate much from there. Maybe it’s the early hour, or the relief at seeing each other again with the prospect of an entire weekend alone, two whole days of not having to hide or take what they can get in small moments.

The day is mostly spent curled up on the couch, exchanging slow kisses and grinding slowly against one another, undressed and unworried. It’s the most exquisite, drawn out foreplay that Peter has ever been a part of, feeling content and turned on in equal measure. Tony will kiss him behind his ear as a lead up to nothing, just doing it because he can or spoon behind Peter on the couch, half hard and doing nothing to alleviate it.

Towards the late afternoon they agree on take-out pizza for dinner and some reality TV re-runs. As Tony orders the food Peter wanders into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water, stretching his body as he stares out the kitchen window, sunset rays bathing the room in an orange glow.

He shivers a little as his bare feet make contact with the chilled tiles, glad he pulled on his jeans - and as he drinks he wonders how this is his life, how he feels too lucky for the guilt to surface anywhere near the forefront.

Strong arms wrap circle his waist as Tony sneaks up on him, embracing him from behind. Peter relaxes into his hold, shoulders dropping while gently clasping Tonys forearms.

He allows his neck to go lax, head falling back to rest on Tonys warm shoulder and for a few moments they just stand there, swaying softly and staring into the darkening outdoors.

“Food should be here soon,” Tony murmurs, rubbing his stubbled cheek against Peters.

“You get the one without pineapple?”

“No, it definitely has pineapple. Only pineapple, I know it’s your favorite.”

“You’re a jackass,” Peter says, turning around in Tony’s arms and kissing the shit-eating grin off his face.

By the time the doorbell rings thirty minutes later his lower face is red with fresh stubble burn, a row of burgeoning hickeys stippled along his neck and hair resembling a birds-nest. Tony, faring worse with cum speckled in his beard and eyelashes, had gone to wash up.

Smiling dazedly, Peter pulls his jeans back up and ambles to the front door still shirtless, picking up the twenty dollars that Tony left on the counter along the way.

When he swings the door open the smile swiftly drops off his face, heart falling faster than an anvil.

Before him Ned stands in a crisp, new uniform, awkwardly holding their pizza and giving Peter a surprised smile.

“Oh, hey Peter! Didn’t expect to see you here, I have this order for Mr. Stark?”

Shit, he thinks, mind flashing back to Ned mentioning his new job. 

All too aware of how he must look standing flushed and semi-naked, he tries to school his expression into something neutral, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

“Uhh, yeah I can take that - “

“I thought Harley was going away this weekend,” Ned says conversationally, still holding the pizza.

“Yeah, he, uh --”

“What’s the hold up, babe?” Tony asks as he approaches from behind, stopping in his tracks when he catches sight of Ned. Peter can’t help as his eyes shutter closed, feels Tony’s entire body stiffening beside him.

“Mr. Stark?” “Well, fuck,” Tony says eloquently.

[hecohansen31]

KINKTOBER (19: Double Penetration)

Fuckboy! Michael Langdon+Reader+Incubus! Michael Langdon.

Also guys this is also based on another drabble, and if you want to send more asks for “fuckboy” Michael I am always here for it...

SUMMARY: Michael can’t help but love your devilish mind, sometimes.

WARNINGS: Vaginal/Anal Sex, Unprotected (USE A PROTECTION KIDS, I LOVE YOU AND STAY SAFE)/Oral Sex (Female Receiving)/Incubus involved in sex/Double Penetretation.

Since you and Michael had started a relationship, you had been quite open with your sex life.

And to think that you were a shy virgin, at the start of it…

… a virgin who would have never dared to ask him the same thing you had whispered in his ear that night, after maybe a bit too much of the wine you had stolen from Cordelia’s cardboard.

“I want to try… “a little adorable sigh had escaped your mouth “… from the back”.

He had replied tenderly that as soon as you got over the hangover, he would have satisfied that little fantasy of yours

But you had gone bolder, smirking brighter, and leaning closer, your voice was higher.

You were thankful you were alone.

“…  not just you sweetie” and you had slapped softly his shoulder “… I mean, only you… but… like… two of you”.

The following day, with a terrible headache, you had gone back to your room, already alerted by the fact that Madison wasn’t in it,  since she usually slept far past noon and lived the night freely, outside of Robinchaux.

“A true animal of the night” had mumbled her blonde roommate but you knew perfectly that most of the time she spent those nights entwined with Zoe.

But you didn’t give it too much thought till you recognized Michael’s silhouette, which stood rigid next to your window, his face facing the elegant view of the flower garden you had from your room.

But what surprised you even further was that another Michael enveloped you tightly in his arms, surprising you enough that you were unable to move.

He blocked you and giggled into your hair, pushing himself to move closer and make you feel his hard-on, already erected against your soft bum, only the little black skirt you wore separating you from his throbbing manhood.

You thought it had be an illusion or an hallucination, but the other Michael turned at you, staring at you with deep and completely black eyes, watching the way your mouth opened and gawked, meanwhile the other Michael, the real one, or so you thought, humped your backside, mouthing your neck with kisses.

“… what is going on?” you asked breathily, meanwhile Michael with the black eyes, walked to you and shut you up with a kiss, a deep and growling kiss, extremely savage and almost beastly.

“Don’t you remember what you told me last night?” real! Michael mumbled in your ear, whispering gently what you didn’t remember and making you blush, meanwhile the other Michael, pushed a knee between your legs, rubbing your core, panty-clad still, with it.

At first you didn’t remember because of the alcohol and the arousal that was growing in your panties from being thoroughly rubbed over your them, a kind of slow teasing that clouded your mind.

“… you asked me to get somebody else, to join us, another me…” he suckled a small hickey on your neck to heighten the suspense “… so that you could experience it from another… perspective”.

Your drunken blabber came all back to you and you blushed even further but allowed the other Michael to lay a few more kisses onto your lips.

“… if you are still up for it” he smirked, meanwhile he continued the trace of hickeys, even going as far as to lower gently your shirt, showing off your pretty collarbones, which caught the glance of the demonic Michael “… we are more than happy to be your humble servants”.

You pushed him away a bit, to discuss with the real! Michael, turning to him and mumbling, hoping the other man couldn’t hear you.

“… what the hell is it?” you mumbled, but he just smirked and turned towards the other Michael, marking the question at him.

“I am an incubus, my lady” he smirked, showing of sharp teeth and a twisted tongue, that somehow got you wondering whether it would have felt good to feel down there “… at your and my lord’s service”.

“He can change his shape to suit who you desire the most” Michael smiled, groping you through the fabric of your shirt, more to show off his power to the Incubus, to let him know who ruled here, over your body, than for your actual pleasure.

You were unable to actually deny that the thought of taking two Michael at the same time didn’t arouse you, and strangely you found yourself without any shame to your thoughts, just hazy in the teasing pleasure they had worked you into.

Almost as an aroused frenzy.

“… how do we do it” you simply muttered, and they both shared a smirk and before you knew it also Incubus! Michael’s eyes were normal and now they were truly identical: that could be troubling…

… or damnably arousing.

“Get on the bed” commanded you without the battling their eyes, who should have been your Michael, and you followed his order, meanwhile Incubus! Michael inched closer to the bed, dipping onto it and hovering over you.

He was the one in charge of undressing you, putting quite the show for the real Michael, who had sat down the bed, examining your undressed body and gently passing a hand onto it, caressing you softly, almost as if to calm a shy prey.

“…are you ready, sweetheart?” he asked, watching your eyes, meanwhile his fingers went between your naked folds, gently pushing the “v” of his middle and index finger up and down your pearl and the area immediately under it.

Your response was a shy breath, mostly due to the Incubus, actually using that forked tongue between your legs (it was divine, indeed).

And it was the incubus who pushed himself into your wet heat, firstly, pure bliss being shown in his eyes and Michael smirked, meanwhile he got behind you, with a lube bottle.

You were on top of the incubus, meanwhile Michael stood behind you, prepping your body with swift hands, circling his fingers around your little button, till it opened, blossoming for him.

You worked even faster the cock between your legs, and the incubus seemed desperate for more, buckling up into you, which got Michael to smirk at him softly, as if he pitied him.

“Doesn’t she feel good?” he cooed at him “… I found my very own personal Heaven between her legs each time”.

You hummed, hoping for more than his fingers, although the pain of the stretch hurt you desperately, but the pleasure from the incubus hitting that perfect spot…

It all soothed you to the point that the pain and the pleasure were mixed so good you were in another dimension.

It took three fingers and the incubus softly rubbing your clit, meanwhile his tongue worked wonders in your mouth, for you to reach your first orgasm, but you knew it was far from over.

“… are you ready also for me, beloved?” smirked Michael, from your back, teasing your puckering and gaping asshole with his own manhood, dipping it in the mix of juices that came from your shared releases.

“Are you ready for me, lover?” you replied, teasing him with an annoyed sing-song voice, that got you quite a sharp slap on your ass.

“… then take it, my pretty whore” and he pushed himself inside you, without giving you any warnings and it hurt… God did it hurt… but it didn’t make you feel any less, feeling two identical cocks nestling themselves in your womanhood, which welcomed then with warmth and tightness and they both moaned as they felt each other through the small barrier.

It was a beautiful feeling to know the other so carnally and deeply and it shot a deep pleasure in both your soul and his.

It took you both a bit to reach a similar rhythm, working all three together, in order to be the most efficient possible with each other, pushing and pulling, bucking up and down with your hips, till it stopped hurt and it was just decadent pleasure.

You all moved: the incubus under you, meanwhile you tried to keep the rhythm, alongside Michael, hissing sharply due to the tightness of your virgin hole, slapping your ass, meanwhile the incubus groped your shapes tighter, as if he didn’t want him to leave you, as if you were the succubus, consuming him.

It kept going on desperately, till they were a mess of sweat and fluids and they had reached their climax again and again, till they finally had enough and they separated, with the men exiting your holes, seeing again their fluids mix and spill out of her.

“…wasn’t it a fun idea, sweetheart?” giggled Michael as you ended up on top of him, the incubus on top of your chest, getting his hair caressed meanwhile his tongue lashed out.

“Definitely the best”.

---

@emmyrosee​ @blakewaterxx​ @lovelylangdonx​ @1-800-bitchcraft​ @rocketgirl2410​ @ladynuwanda​ @rosegoldrichie​ @lathraios​ @frenchbread4ever​ @bish-ima-clown​ @eternalnostalgia​  @raindeadbarbie @whitetigerlover17​ @harmcn​ @lilwolfgirl86​  @photography-ygs​ @bvbfob​ @courtcourt2607​ @born-of-the-sea @pearlsofperyl​ @ali-1864 @trilogyss​  @otps-4-life​ @christine-daae-songbird​  @babygirls-fav​

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Summer Romance and Cinema Nights (Sriracha, Part 12.)

Description: A problematic college student gets the worst summer job of the ‘83 - Jim Hopper, the Chief of police in your hometown will have you as his secretary since his old lady Flo has two months lasting holiday. It was agreed so Hopper could let you far away from all the trouble.

Part Summary: Dating a local police Chief may be way trickier than it seems. But when he turns out to be a complete fool for you, you somehow know that you can work that.

A/N: FLUFFY JIM, YAY! Also, just btw, I would like to announce that the official two songs for this fic‘s couple are: Little Secrets by Passion Pit and 3 Nights by Dominic Fike. Two brilliant, catchy songs which excellently depict the mood!

Word count: 2.9 K

Tagging: @nemodoren​ @missdictatorme​ @creedslove​

Master list: H E R E ​

That other morning, somehow everything seemed to be just perfect - Hopper, for the first time in forever, woke up on time to shower and prepare on time. He had such a good mood that he opened up his windows in his car and basically yelled every lyric of You Don't Mess Around With Jim from the window. A bold move for riding though Hawkins at half-past seven in the morning. And even bolder when you acknowledged that Hopper couldn't sing for shit. He even bought a huge Puget of flowers to welcome Florence back in the office.

When he ran inside the office, the tune was still playing outside - the office was smelling like freshly brewed coffee and just baked donuts, that made Jim even swing his hips in the beat coming out of the car. He gently put the flowers in front of Florence, who just opened up her mouth, and he danced into the office while singing the chorus. She was looking at him and she was even more surprised when Hopper didn't even lit up a cigarette as he walked through the office. Was Jim actually put through lobotomy when she was gone?

Powell and Callahan just stood there, looking at the man any of them actually didn't know. Powell then poked Callahan's side - Chief must've gotten laid and it must've been extraordinary good because there wasn't any sane explanation for any of that.

"A good night with a lady in a warm bed, Chief?" - Powell teased Hopper with a knowing smile and both of the men almost choked when Hopper just hummed back.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you and your wife would be jealous if she knew." - Hopper patted his shoulder and with another of his terrifying signing, he turned around to go turn off the radio in his car. But just as his good mood came out of nowhere, just as quickly he was brought back to life when he patiently sat in his chair and waited for your promised call.

There was no other way to name the feeling inside of him - Hopper was just straightway nervous. There wasn't any other way to put that. He was his foot and when he wasn't tapping his foot, he was tapping his fingers into his desk. When he wasn't tapping his fingers into the desk, he was constantly fetching himself a cup of coffee - it was almost a miracle because Florence hasn't seen him coming out of the office as regularly as he did that day. A lot of coffee meant that he was peeing rather often - for the first time in a long time, he felt like a living, breathing person.

The call came - soon after one in the afternoon, his phone suddenly came to life. He almost jumped at the plastic box, letting the phone fall three times on his desk. And at that moment, his head told him to act cool. Like he didn't almost shit his pants when the phone rang.

"Um... Chief of Police, Jim Hopper, at the phone, Hawkins PD. What can I help you with?" - He asked and coughed a bit. If it wasn't you, he swore that he's going to kill someone. But then he heard a burst of your laughter and he almost hummed with pleasure. His mind told him that he's the cool guy now and there's no way he's going to laugh, smile, hum or grunt.

"You're funny. Really funny. Sorry, it took me so long, I was with my mom and brother... Long story short, boring noon at the household. What about the old mill near the town, half an hour from now? I'll give you five minutes in advance." - You spoke fast because you didn't have any idea of how much of time you've got remaining.

"Of course, Mr. Black. The old mill? You say that somethin' got lost? Yeah, I'll be there in thirty minutes." - Hopper answered loud enough for Florence to hear the response, hearing you losing your cool on the other end once again.

"In thirty-five minutes, not a minute late, okay? Don't forget I have my watch on." - You whispered in the end and ended up the call for good. Hopper immediately got on his feet and looked at himself in the window, slicking his hair back and readjusting the uniform, putting his sunglasses on to look even cooler. Then he stopped at Florence's dear, still seeing you there, drawing your small little pictures, eating a single donut all day long, with a bored face, waiting for a call.

"I need to go to the old mill...-" "Because old black lost something. Again. You yelled it loud enough." - Florence told him back, having a bored look on her face. The newest Harlequin added to the library was opened in her desk and she was almost halfway through it. Which was impressive.

"I'll most likely take my lunch break as well." - Hopper informed her briefly and feared her answer since the look she gave him was already furrowed enough. - "Since you once walked in exactly on time, why not?" - She mumbled in the end, ignoring Hopper from that moment on. He basically ran into his car, holding the hat on his head.

It was less than twenty minutes on a bike when you knew roads though the Hawkins woods, but it was almost thirty minutes by car, so he really had to try and drive like a madman. But it was worth it in the end - when he parked the car, you were already sitting in the car there, having only long basketball shorts and a tight black top on. You smiled and was on your legs in no time, running towards Hopper.

When you jumped at him, circling your hands around his neck, he was seriously trying his best to keep both of you standing on your feet. When you almost sucked the breath out of him, you stepped a bit away, watching your wristwatch.

"Two minutes earlier. I'm impressed." - You mumbled, pulling him for a kiss again, closing your eyes. Then, before he had the opportunity to answer something witty back, you caught his palm and lead him to the backseats.

The half an hour on the backseat was one of the most passionate he ever had. There wasn't much space, but you figured out how to pull his pants down to his ankles, how to pull down your shorts and you just pulled the top down so he could watch your boobs bounce as you leaned both your palms into the roof and cried out with pleasure. As always, Hopper was doing and saying things that made you more than a chuckle, having you laughing on his lap at one time.

Half an hour later, you were both laying on the back seat, breathing heavily. You never remembered sex being as good as it was with Hopper. But it was definitely mind-blowing. When he tried to put his pants at least partially up, you stopped his arm, grinning. Your leg was spread up to the air and it seemed like you're in pain.

"I have a spasm. Hold on a second." - You begged, still having the leg in the air. The least Hopper could do was to support your leg, so he caught it in the air. After a minute, you finally got dressed, still having that selfish grin.

"What's that about?" - Jim asked as he still tried to catch his breath. It was almost awfully hot in the car. And it definitely smelled like a damn good quickie.

"Every time you'll be driving Blazer, you'll see me riding you on the backseat." - You chuckled and climbed out to stretch your back. - "Seems to me like I'm already winning the little remember me game."

"You'll see about that. What about the movies, have you thought about that?" - Jim took out one of the cigarettes, closing the door behind you, leaning his ass into the car. He still had his shirt and t-shirt untugged, but he knew it can hold on a minute. He offered you from the pack as well, but you shook your head.

"How do you want to execute that crazy plan?" - You asked back, slowly smoothing his left arm before entwining your fingers with his. Jim took a second to think about that, lighting the cigarette up.

"Well, you'll go first and buy yourself a ticket. I'll go second so people would be less suspicious. I'll put on the grumpy asshole fave everyone knows and pretend to meet you in there. The rest is a mystery." - Jim answered thoughtfully and laughed, when you playfully punched his shoulder, laughing as well. He put his arm around your shoulder, bringing you even closer, kissing the top of your head.

"You really thought about that, huh?" - You mumbled, putting your arms around his waist, nudging your face into the shirt of his uniform. - "Nobody told me you're handsome, a good cook and clever. Almost too good to be true."

"Yeah, keep that talk to yourself, will you? We'll need some pretty good actin' if we're supposed to make people believe that." - Hopper answered back, puffing out a bit of smoke.

"Come on, no-one in the city actually believes that Jim Hopper, the asshole from downtown, would be able to pick up a college student." - You mumbled back, poking fun of him even further. - "I can do a survey to prove you, huh?"

"Oh, shut up, smarty." - Hopped answered back and this time, he was actually laughing. You laughed back, slowly letting go of him.

"So I'll see you at the cinema, then?" - You licked your lips with expectations, having the devil in your eyes. Hopper nodded. - "The last movie starts at 8:15. If you're not there, I'm going on my own, old man." - You laughed while you walked to your bike. Jim just looked at his boots, gulping down your sour comment. You meant it as a joke, but it was nothing but the truth. He was watching you riding down the hill before he finished the cigarette - after that, he finally tugged his shirt back and got into the car. 

You were right - how did it come that you were right so often? Just as he turned around to drive backward, he was seeing you riding him like crazy. And he smiled at that. 

Just as he told you, he meant to keep his word. Once 8:15 came, he was already turning the engine off. 

You, on the other hand, were in the line since 8:00. You put on your best denim jacket and a red t-shirt under it to bring out the colors even more. You were looking like a million bucks - and of course, none other than Steve and his asshole best friends noticed you. Steve was harmless and sweet when he was alone or around Aiden, but once he was hanging with Carol and Tommy, he was a disaster. 

“Look who we got here.” - Steve grinned from ear to ear when he saw you standing in the line, coming to you like a cocky son of a bitch he was pretending to be. You smiled back, straightening a bit. 

“Hey there, Steve. Carol. Tommy.” - You nodded to each one of them with a stiffened smile. These two were total assholes and jerks - Carol was the typical jealous bitch from your neighborhood who surely won't make it far in her life just because she always stuck her disgusting nose into the lives of other people and Tommy... Well, he hadn't got a brain, so his life must've kind of suck. 

“What are you doing here? Alone? On your own?” - Carol asked, nuzzling into her boyfriends' armpit. The rumors had it that she's fucking him since the seven grade, but you didn't care for your own good.

“I'm just going to see a movie on my own. You know, adults are fond of spending time on their own.” - You snorted back at her, seeing that bitch rolling her eyes while she chewed on the bubblegum. Soon, you were standing there with Steve only, because Carol hated you for some reason and Tommy H always followed her around like a tail.

“If you're alone, do you want me to... Uh... Join you?” - Steve asked silently, watching your face. You giggled a bit and smiled at him. Every time he was all alone and not under the influence of that bitter bitch and dumb jock, he was a sweetheart. You knew that since you knew Steve from the time he was six. - “They won't be mad. I don't feel like going out with them either.” - He swore and felt his breath smelling like beer and cigarettes. Which immediately brought back Hopper on your mind. 8:08. He still had seven minutes. 

“I was serious. I don't mind being on my own, Steve. It helps me with cleaning my head. You should go and enjoy... The New Star Wars.” - You looked at his ticket and smiled. You bought a ticked on the other movie and hoped that Hopper won't buy the wrong one. 

In the end, Steve nodded. You watched as his eyes controlled the situation around and after he was sure that Tommy or Carol can't see him, he offered you a hug. This one was a friendly one - you could tell from the smile he had on. It was the honest Steve Harrington smile. That was why you accepted. 

“Enjoy the movie... No matter what you'll be watching.” - He said before he ran off to the line for popcorn and some soda, finding Tommy and Carol still hugging. Oh, that bitch was definitely talking trash, again, but you didn't care. You took your place in the line as well, planning to buy yourself at least some soda. 

Hopper entered the cinema like a hurricane - he had a beige blazer you couldn't recognize, definitely some new jeans and a shirt you would've sworn that you haven't seen in the cabin yet. He was looking bald, the colors were bringing more life into his looks and you needed to say... That Hopper was looking fucking great. His blue eyes found you in a second, being almost the one to order, but he pretended that he didn't see you. 

Acting, you reminded yourself, you needed some good acting. You patiently waited for your Pepsi can and paid with a small smile, leaving to go through the corridor leading into the cinema, where you waited for Hopper. He almost freaked out when you suddenly came from behind the corner and let his popcorn go. 

“Hey there, Chief.” - You said almost unbelievably, letting a couple walk around you. - “I think I haven't even seen you outside the PD. How you're doing?” - You smiled and walked there by his side. Jim really knew how to act - he looked so bugged that you thought about doing something wrong. 

“I was good until now.” - He muttered out, bringing the popcorn closer to his body, nervously looking throughout the hall. You walked straight to the most distanced seats, looking at Hopper. 

“Jesus, come and sit next, everyone knows you're all alone here.” - You rolled your eyes and Hopper slowly followed you. You were a good actress when you needed to be one. You could act like a serious brat. Good acting from the both of you, indeed. 

“Move.” - Hopper grunted out angrily, acting like his night was just ruined. You sat next to each other in the back row, away from all the people that were for the movie actually. You both sat there without emotions in your faces, Hopper was chewing on his popcorn. He was waiting for the moment when all the people finally concentrate on the movie - and he also jealously watched a couple of teenagers at the other end of the row. He sighed. 

When the right moment finally came, it almost halfway through the movie and even you seemed to enjoy it since you laughed here and there. You jumped a bit when you felt a palm caressing your knee. In one moment, your face froze and your expression changed. You looked at the making out couple, the only other people sitting in one row with you, then you looked down on his palm before catching it into yours. From that moment, you had a contained smile on your lips as you moved your shoulder to Hopper‘s to lean into him.

At the end of the movie, you both let go, both your palms suddenly feeling fucking cold. And no-one noticed a thing. It might seem to be utter nonsense, but in reality, it was a bold and almost stupid move. If anyone saw that you're holding hands, you were dead. But no-one did. 

That night, you walked home - promising Hopper that you'll call him again tomorrow.

[kinktae]

How dare you bitchin!jungkook ?! HOW DARE YOU ?!

very NOT spoiler free bitchin’ 8 asks under the cut

Y/N SUPPORT GROUP

deliciouslydisturbed365 said: I just read chapter 8 and holy fuck I’m nauseous. Poor Y/N 😭

queen-emon said: What the literal FUCK man, I just read Bitchin 08 and like im so broken. I never ever consider Y/n and I to be the same person but this time I felt like we were the same person both getting our hearts crushed by the man we loved so dearly. I AM NOT OKAY WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME! THIS IS SO NOT GROOVY :(

Anonymous said: Me🤝y/n Repressing our emotions

madjammil said: I am legit crying. Poor y/n! I cannot believe Jungkook slept with Kiri! My heart is broken. I thought these two were finally getting together and he goes and does this dumb shit! Smh. Aside from that, your writing was amazing as always! I love this series so much!

YARA BULLY JK PETITIONERS

Anonymous said: omg i can’t believe jungkook is rly going to get his dickie chopped off 😍😍😍 deserve! can’t wait until yara finds out

Anonymous said: Ignore jk, y/n!!! Gosh she deserve so much better than a fboi who only cares about how he feels physically!! Ahole to the max and I need her to slap him! Yara can join along the slapping game!! But srsly he needs to learn his words alone can’t mend this and I hope y/n doesn’t give in so easily cuz he deserves cold shoulders from her for a very long time and don’t just rely on charms to get his way. Ik he was trouble from the start 😔 y/n dear don’t worry you deserve better

casualxexistence said: So 👉👈 um like is there like ANy chance that we get to see our baby yara’s reaction to this 🥺🥺🥺👼 bc um well I would kinda love to see her hand both jk and kiri there asses bc they aren’t gonna hAVE ANY AFTER SHE FINISHES WITH THEM RIP

Anonymous said: dude, what if y/n hooks up with tae and starts beef between jk and him while yara bitch slaps kiri….. dude bitchin’ has such good drama theories wtf literally anything is possible at this point

Anonymous said: if yara doesn’t punch kook can I punch him? Not as the oc I meant like me BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK

forvever-ddaeng said: I keep rereading this last part like it’s somehow gonna change or it won’t make me sad the more I read it but it’s having the opposite effect and now I want Yara to beat Jungkook’s ass smh

Anonymous said: WTFFFFFFF YARA GONNA HUNT DOWN AND KICK JUNGKOOK ASS FOR HURTING HER BABY

JUNGKOOK ANTIS:

Anonymous said: what the fuck is wrong with bitchin’!jungkook does he think with his dick i wanna kick his ass

Anonymous said: why jungkook would do something like that if he likes y/n? i would be so mad at him too like… isn’t that kind of cheating? he didn’t say if he was back together with his ex but he slept with her so that must mean something, she probably thinks it means something. he was really stupid 

omgtaehyungsmullett said: i know jungkook fucking with me, dammit 😡

Anonymous said: I DONT UNDERSTAND WHY WOULD JUNGKOOK DO THAT WHY

ausjeons said: Jungkook what the fuck!!! I could slap you silly after reading part 8 😪😩

Anonymous said: Team make jk suffer for awhile and then be able to patch things up with the oc 🤝

Anonymous said: I read ch8 last night and this weighed heavily on my mind all day like why is jk such a hoe? Like how could he just sleep with Kiri just like that. I think these children are very confuzzled with their feelings. After he slept with Kiri, did he rush to y/n bc he knew this was the end of their “relationship”? One last passionate banger goodbye 😟 my 💔 broken heart

Anonymous said: I ain’t even sad. I’m full on rage mode. WHO TF GAVE JK THE AUDACITY , THE ABSOLUTE BRAWN TO STICK HIS DICK IN KIRI AND THEN , NOT EVEN A FULL DAY LATER ( cuz yk that would be farrr too gracious ) WITHOUT A WARNING , WITHOUT A FRICKING GOOD MORNING EVEN , GOES TO FUCK OC AND THINKS THAT’S OKAY???? Good to know OC and whatever his relationship was with her was worth less than a nut😒

Anonymous said: i’m actually sad… like wow. i really expected him to go back, i really did. but even though i knew it’d happen, it still hurt, y’know? i think that made it worse; knowing that he’d go back to her in the end… shit’s fucked up, really. great job writing it. i could literally feel the emotion from this one.

Anonymous said: Bitchin ch 8…..oh wow the smut was so nice and fluffy but wtf JJK messed up big time. Honestly I don’t think he deserves oc after this. She deserves someone who isn’t so unsure of his feelings that it takes getting back together with and sleeping with someone else to realise it. If he really liked her, he wouldn’t have slept with Kiri.

Anonymous said: “ArE YOu MAd?” Srsly what brand of clown juice is Bitchin JJK drinking?

Anonymous said: TAE AND Y/N HOES BRO ENTER THE NEW SHIP FUCK JK

cchristinnaa said: Jk really did yn like a pocket pussy huh

Anonymous said: HOW COULD JUNGKOOK OH MY GOOODDDDDDDDDDD literally men aint SHIT….. the part where y/n said you got what you wanted from me🥺🥺🥺🥺 I FELT THAT ugh i love the angst

Anonymous said: Hope jk dieS from jealousy next ch. And regrets it skdhdhd :( jk. Hope they get their sht 2gether soon or im gon 😷😖😭

diortae said: me: *explaining to bitchin 8 jk why he’s a dick for calling Y/N his “pretty girl” immediately after fucking her raw the morning after he slept with his ex* 

jk: well, you know what they say. hindsight is 20/20 

me: KINDA SEEMS LIKE REGULAR SIGHT SHOULD HAVE CAUGHT THAT ONE

Anonymous said: JUNGKOOK IS ABOUT TO MEET THESE FISTS UP CLOSE THATS ON GOD THAT DUMBASS LIMP DICK BITCH REALLY FUCKED UP

Anonymous said: I HATE JJK HES AN ASS FOR GG DOWN ON 2WOMEN HE CAN JUS F HIMSELF RN

Anonymous said: JUNGKOOK IS GONNA GET HIS ASS BEATEN UGHSHHSKDHXJSJ MOTHERFUCKER WHAT? WHAT??? THIS BITCH IS A RIDE OR DIE AND UR GOING AFTER FAKEASS KIRI REALLY? FOR REAL I THOUGHT UOU WERE BETTER THAN THIS BUT NO ALL MEN DO IS LIE LIE LIE

Anonymous said: the way i closed the tumblr app when i saw jungkook saying “kiri came over last night”

Anonymous said: alright we beating jk’s ass @ noon 😤

Anonymous said: WHY WOULD JUNGKOOK DO THAT TO OC LIKE WHAT I AGREE WITH OC HE USED HER AND THAT MAKES ME 😡😡😡😡😡

Anonymous said: BITCHIN PART 8 WTFGGGG MY HEART Do be Hurting . i’m going to beat jungkook up !!!!

betysotelo18 said: It’s been a few minutes since I read part 8 and I can’t stop thinking about what could happen next… the meanwhile F U jeon Jungkook, you did wrong

Anonymous said: NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! I CANT 😭 WHAT SHOULD I DO WITH THIS CHAPTER HUUUU JUNGKOOK WTFF BRO…….. my heart is breaking for them. Why can’t they just date already wkxbdbbdjdjdjdjdjdj this is onky misunderstanding right? and thankyou for the new chapter sis hihuhihih💕💕

Anonymous said: im shocked i dunno who i hate more rn you or jungkook. my heart is literally SHATTERED he better fix this or else im traveling to the 80s just to kick his ass 😭🤬

Anonymous said: never want to punch jungkook in the face like i wanna do right now

Anonymous said: JUNGKOOK WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUCK 🤬 for the love of god rose why do u did that to me i wanna die

Anonymous said: ROSE WTF WAS THAT MAN !!! my heart it hurts and like wtf jungpuke!! Why would he do that to reader !! why would he sleep with kiri and then sleep with reader ?!? Like go siekkeksjdjejjejdbehhe i wish i can put in reaction pictures in here

CUTIE PIES

Anonymous said: Omggg thank you so so much for this chapter, for the whole fic. Thank you for sharing it with us. You are a great writter. Seriously! I just love how every chapter is so intense. Not only the smut is amazing but every detail, every action, the whole plot, all of the dialogues. I actually cried at the end I love how I can really feel everything. All the emotions. Ah and they’re so cute!!! But why was JK so weak? Even if that’s what you wanted since the beginning… I thought- BOY WTF??? :’( But seriously this is the type of thing I love, I am WEAK for this. The slow burn, the oblivious idiots that love each other but keep suffering thing. And you write it so well. Your mind!!! Your talent!!! I love it. Thank you, for real ♥♥♥ I’m antecipating the next chapter, but already sad that it’s almost ending :((( I’m gonna miss this a lot. Anyways, take your time, baby. And have a nice day! ♥♥♥ (Sorry for bad english btw)

tinievmin said: ROSE. IM IN PAIN. I FELT THE BREAKUP BETWEEN YN AND JUNGKOOK. IM SO SADDD. But not related to the plot, your writing is ART. You always make it flow so well aND WOW!!! I don’t have enough words to express how much I love your works

AND FINALLY, AN INTELLECTUAL

Anonymous said: kiri is a bitch i said what i said

[fanfic-scribbles]

Lunch Buddy: Chapter Fourteen

Masterlist

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers makes a friend. A prickly, generally people-averse friend, but they’ll both take what they can get.

Quick Facts: Friendship (/Eventual Romance) – Steve Rogers & Reader (leading to Steve Rogers/Reader) – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 14: Thankful

Chapter Summary: Steve spends the holiday with his grumpy friend. His grumpy friend realizes something.

Chapter Word Count: 2867

AN: ‘Why does this start at Halloween and end around Thanksgiving’ well unfortunately Thanksgiving was when I always imagined a certain part taking place and I don’t want to stretch this out for another two months. It feels right to have this here, chapter-wise. So without further ado… (ノ✧ ω ✧)ノ*✲ﾟ*

    “Wow.”

“Huh.” Steve put his controller down and changed the channel . “I thought you’d be more upset.”

“You wrecked me in the most convoluted way possible,” I said. “I can’t be mad. That was stupid impressive.”

“Thanks,” he said and sat back. “And thanks again for saving me from Tony’s costume party.”

“I didn’t save you; I just invited you to my party first.”

Steve looked around the room. “Do two people count as a party?”

“I’m sorry; where can I find the requirements to call something a party? Are they online? Maybe there’s a National Party Registry where I can–”

Steve shoved some popcorn at my face and I smacked him away, but I still had to dig some of it out of my shirt. Steve was, at least, decent enough to get the ones off the floor.

“Point being– there’s food, there’s fun, and if you don’t like it you can go and I will party by myself,” I said and turned my nose up at him.

“Touchy,” Steve chuckled and ate the pieces he had dropped. Well, the floor was clean enough. He added, “I am having fun though. Thank you.”

“Hm.”

“All I said was ‘thank you.’”

“Yeah, too sappy; I’d rather you go back to dumping popcorn down my shirt.”

His face turned red. Too easy. “I did not.”

“Did too.”

“Nope.”

I had the popcorn in my hand and, well, if life gave you kernels… “Oh, okay then. Here,” I said and held it out to him.

He, of course, recoiled. “No; you eat it.”

“I don’t want it,” I said and kept going. He scooted away like I had cooties, so I scooted closer until he was up against the arm of the couch. Short of leaping off of it he wasn’t getting away from me. “Come on; eat it.”

“No!” he said and shielded his face with his arm.

“Why not? If it didn’t go down my shirt then it must be perfectly fine,” I said and leaned over him.

Steve apparently disagreed, and we tussled. The fact that we pushed back and forth meant he was seriously holding back but it was funny, especially when I managed to drop the popcorn on him and he snapped. Gently, but I ended up on my back on the couch with him pressing down on my arms. Again, lightly, but he was making real sure I couldn’t get that popcorn back (wherever it had gone).

“You are such a wuss,” I said, still laughing.

“And you’re gross,” he chuckled.

“Hey.” I frowned. “I shower. I shower more often than I clean the floor.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t mean you were dirty, I–” He stared down at me, like he was realizing where I was for the first time, and he jerked away off of me– and the couch– like I was fire.

It happened so quickly I didn’t know what the hell to make of it. “Are you okay?” I asked and slowly sat up.

“Are you?”

That didn’t clarify why he wouldn’t even look at me. “I’m okay. Why–” Oh. Was that it? “You didn’t hurt me, if that’s what you’re worried about?”

He looked blank for a second, but then– “Yes. That.” He sat back down on the other end (on the very, very edge) of the couch. “I forget sometimes, how…strong I am.”

He still sounded weird in a way that made me wonder if I was missing something, but I sat up and gave him the space he apparently needed. Even watching TV felt awkward. At least, at first, until an unfortunately familiar image flashed on the screen. Awkward mood or not didn’t stop me from gagging when that stupid fucking turkey commercial came on.

“Not a fan of Thanksgiving?” Steve asked dryly as I raced to change the channel.

“I like Thanksgiving fine, I just hate that fucking nightmare mascot,” I said and sat back, safe now with c-level horror nonsense. “Also I’m tired of holidays creeping on other holidays. Stay in your month.”

Steve laughed a little and as much as I hated it, I had to be thankful (ugh) to that awful commercial for breaking the weird tension. “Thanksgiving is okay though,” I said. “Terrible history, but I get two days off and an excuse to gorge myself. What’s not to like about that?”

“Are you going anywhere?”

“Nah. There’s a place I usually order from. I’ll get some good food, put something on the TV, and just dick around for the day.”

He smiled and nodded, like that was exactly what he had expected from me. Well, I never claimed to be super unpredictable. “What are you going to do for it?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugged and looked genuinely troubled. “Everybody else is pretty busy this year. I’ll probably just…do what I normally do. Where do you order from?”

Interesting. My plans were something I liked but it figured he wouldn’t be thrilled with that– he liked people, and being around people. I wasn’t the best company…but I was people. And Steve, somehow, always managed to be an exception to my rule.

“Hey,” I said. “Why don’t you come over?”

He looked a little stunned. “No, that’s– it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will,” I said. “But we hang out all the time and Thanksgiving is boring, if for no reason other than traveling is kind of a pain in the ass.” Admittedly I hadn’t really cared before the one time I’d needed to get to Manhattan, but I doubted I would ever forgive Macy’s for that nightmare. And Steve had to get around there sometimes, so maybe he found it annoying too. “We can order a lot of food together and just sit and eat and do what we’re doing now. And if Tony gets snide you can tell him you have plans.”

“I tend to make sure I do have plans,” he said and ran his hand through his hair. “Volunteering, mostly; there’s always something that needs to be done and I’ve got the time, so why not me? And it’s good, but maybe…” He looked up and stared at the wall like there was something worth considering. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have the day off.”

I was maybe too happy about winning that little debate, but hey, at least I had won something that night. Later, after having insisted that he could see himself out while I was too drowsy to argue, (the jerk), I tried to cement our plans. In my own way.

“Hey Steve?”

He stopped. I leaned on the arm of the couch to stretch out my back. “If anybody asks why you're not at a soup kitchen or any of that bullshit,” I said, “Just tell ‘em that you know someone who was gonna be real lonely at Thanksgiving and begged you for company. Clinging, crocodile tears– the works.”

It got a smile and a chuckle out of him, but he also looked mildly offended. He gave me a wry smile and said, “Soup kitchens aren’t bullshit.”

“They’re not,” I agreed. “But the idea that you don’t deserve a day off with the rest of us is. You do a lot, Steve. If you want to take care of anyone else, you have to take care of yourself too.”

He looked hesitant. I cleared my throat. “And there’s no better way to do that than to slip into a food coma.”

He laughed– so loud it surprised us both. His smile was easier when he said, “I’ll take your word for it.”

“You’ll get to test it out, actually,” I said. “I’ll bring a menu around sometime this week and as soon as we sort out food I’ll place the order.”

“Sounds great.” He slung his pack over his shoulder. “Good night.”

~

Picking the food was easy enough. Mostly. Steve thought he was more boring than he actually was and I made a mental note of some of the things he looked at the weirdest that I knew he would end up stealing if I gave him a chance. He also wanted to figure out how much the food would be so he could give me the money right away, but when he insisted on calculating out the ratio of portion sizes to price I checked my watch and gave up.

“Oh my god; if you make me do this much math on my break I’m going to make you pay for all of it,” I groaned into my hand.

“Okay!” Steve replied, blatantly unbothered by the idea.

I opened my mouth to argue but then I thought about the energy it would take, and the smug look currently on his face, and how much did I really care about any of this? “Fine,” I said, to his obvious surprise. “I’m hosting, and actually getting the food, so you can take care of paying for it. We’ll call it ‘The Asshole Tax.’”

“We’re not calling it that,” he said, but he was sort of smiling. Because he was totally okay with being an asshole. So I ripped a page out of my notebook, wrote down the total, titled it ‘Asshole Tax,’ and dropped it in front of him as I stood to pack and leave.

“That is a lot of food,” he said, frowning at the menu as I stowed it away. “Maybe I should go get it too.”

“Do you want to explain to some random cashier why you’re picking up food under my name?” I asked. He frowned further and I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered. In the meantime–” I shook my drink and took a sip. “Enjoy your boba.”

He scowled at me but pulled his drink closer. Just before I left I heard him mutter, “Just because I like it doesn’t mean it isn’t weird.”

I rolled my eyes and walked away, already mentally doubling at least two of the dishes.

~

The weeks passed like I was living the last month of high school all over again, but finally the day came. Steve came over about noon and I gave his jeans the stink-eye, until he brought his backpack around and partially pulled out a pair of drawstring pants.

“Do I fit the dress code now?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said and let him in. “I’m not going to be the only one in my PJs, but I’m also not dressing up.”

“I know better than to ask that,” he said and narrowly dodged a swat from the spoon I had been using to stir the gravy. Pro of going with traditional food: this place made it so good. Con of going with traditional food: there was some reheating involved. Ultimately it was all worth it though. I couldn’t wait to hear what Steve thought; I really hoped he didn’t regret this.

“Go get changed,” I said and waved it threateningly. “Food’s almost all ready.”

He grinned. “Okay, but, uh…” He leaned forward. I moved back, not sure why he was suddenly so close, until he reached in and…wiped some gravy off my cheek.

“You might want to watch out for karma,” he said with that stupid fucking smile.

I chased him to the bathroom but he was too quick to slam the door on my face. I stalked back to the food and, manners be damned, started loading up my plate first. He came back in comfy pants and a too-tight t-shirt that I immediately snapped the sleeve of.

“Hey!” he said and bumped into my side.

“I’m not the one buying shirts tight enough to double as rubber bands,” I said. I gestured at the food spread out across all available counter space. “Eat up. Cold stuff is still in the fridge and snack stuff is on the coffee table.”

“This looks great.” He hugged me with one arm. “Thanks for getting it.”

“Yeah yeah, get your stuff and sit down,” I said and took my food over to my little corner of the couch. I had a blanket for me and a blanket for Steve, a selection of nonsense to watch on the TV that was not parade-related, and a view of grey skies from a warm and brightly-lit apartment.

It was going to be a good day.

I even got a little vindication when I went back to the fridge to get something to drink and saw Steve very intensely eyeing a casserole he had pooh-poohed on the menu when we were picking things out. He glanced at me, glanced at the food, and I took in the sight for several seconds before telling him, “Fine, you can have half,” and before I even finished the sentence he had scooped his entire portion right onto his plate. It took up almost the whole surface. “You should trust me by now when I tell you things are good.”

“I wish I could agree with that,” he said and gave me a disapproving look.

“Hey, you said pick a lunch place and I took you to a burger joint,” I said innocently. “Sure it had a weird name, but the food was good, right?”

“You knew what you were doing,” he said, staring down at me.

I lasted about two seconds before I broke and laughed.

And the day was good. Steve was someone I could hang out with without fear, and I had only been half-joking about the dress code– because he brought clothes to lounge in, I didn’t feel self-conscious in mine. And the way he looked so enviously at my unicorn slippers even gave me an idea for a good holiday gift.

And since we were hanging out on the couch, it was natural that we gravitated closer together. Natural, but when I finally noticed just how close we were, I froze up a little. Was it okay for me to–

“You can lean back if you want,” he said.

“Really?” I asked and eyed his chest.

“I’m more comfortable than I look,” he said. “Or so I’ve been told. By Natasha. And Maria. And Bruce. Even Thor, one time.”

Well, if that was an okay thing to do then I was going to do it. I felt…probably more excited than I should have, but I figured it was just nice to be so comfortable with another human being. I didn’t know if I ever had felt like this before.

But I played it cool. “Hm,” I said and lay back. He was warm, firm, and yes, surprisingly comfortable. I felt a little thrill of anxiety when he wrapped his arm around my stomach, but it was just for a moment, and then I was able to relax into him. “I can see how people say that.” I felt so good. “You’re pretty cozy.”

“An excellent commendation,” he said. I sighed, perfectly content, and shut my eyes.

~

I woke up to darkness, with only the light of the TV.

Steve shifted suddenly behind me and I jerked away, ready to apologize, when I saw his eyes were shut tight, and his motions were short and twitchy. He mumbled nonsense but his face furrowed in anguish.

“Steve.” I shook his shoulder. “Steve!”

He didn’t wake up right away. Tears actually started spilling from his eyes and at the sight of that I panicked and shook harder. “Steve!”

His eyes snapped open and he jerked up and grabbed my shoulders. It didn’t hurt but I couldn’t move while he took in his surroundings. He gasped but didn’t say anything, though he did loosen his hands so he could put them to his eyes. I gently wrapped my arms around him while he rode out the shockwaves, and soon enough he put his arms around me. “I got you, Steve; it’s okay,” I whispered and rubbed his back. He clung to me and we sat just like that for a little while, until Steve’s short breathing evened out and he was able to take a deep breath.

Even still, he was reluctant to let go. “You wanna hear a secret?” I asked him, not intending to let him go until he was ready.

“Sure,” he said weakly. But he relaxed and stayed right where he was.

I cleared my throat and admitted, “I think I like hugs.”

He chuckled. “The resident miser? Likes hugs?”

“I know. You can’t tell anyone,” I said. “Also, sorry if I suck at them; I’m not exactly practiced.”

“I think you’re just fine. But I’m not well-practiced either,” he said. He pressed his face into my shoulder and my stomach did a somersault. It felt so good; I wanted to wrap him up in my arms forever and–

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh no.

“Maybe we should practice more.” He pulled away, smiling, but that smile hit me in a different spot. Harder. “Together.”

Fucking hell. “That sounds nice,” I said before Impulse Control could kick me in the face. Because it did sound nice. It sounded so nice it would have made him uncomfortable by how much I loved the idea. I loved the idea.

I loved him.

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

[lanamemories2]

clip clops in on horseback wearing a pointy little dunces hat n sipping frm a rly long crazy straw tht says ‘goblin’ w all of the swirls. Hlo. i’m nai n it’s rly nice to meet u all!!! 23 n she/ha pronouns. i’m one of the three admins here (cleo lazuli on the main) n i’m literally So Excited to get started i cld honestly beat my chest like caesar the ape over it. more abt lana under the cut!!! also like this or hmu if u wna plot n her pinterest is here 👺🌚 

『KRISTINE FROSETH ❙ CIS-FEMALE』 ⟿ looks like LANA JAMESON is here for HER JUNIOR year as a DANCE student. SHE is 21 years old & known to be VIVACIOUS, ALLURING, CHILDISH & IMPULSIVE. They’re living in NOLAND, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ NAI. 23. GMT. SHE/HER.

AESTHETICS: 

scalding your fingers in shower water until they glow like rudolph’s nose, cherry red gym socks tugged high and nothing else, stepping out into a cold breeze in just spaghetti strapped silk, a red lightening stripe painted over your eye like a new take on the scarlet letter, crowning each finger with a miniature raspberry, hugging a knee close to lick a stripe of fruit juice off the bruised cap, doodling penises in condensation instead of sitting still, a water pistol topped with rum and covered in glittery pin-up stickers, believable smiles that feel more like baring teeth, playing where’s waldo with your lipstick in the crowd of a party and finding red on at least six people’s mouths, a bumper sticker on the back of a convertible cadillac that says ‘SCRAPPY DOO IS A FILTHY SLUT’, prancing around in your underwear to a vinyl record with the curtains open. 

HISTORY:

lana grew up in a big house in albany, NY. i picture it w dark oak floors n lots of light furniture. albums framed on walls. mayb some rolling stone covers too frm way bk when of the bands her dad’s label signed. kind of like… a rock star palace w no evidence of children at all. i think i described it best in one of lana’s self paras once when i said the garden ws “as big as it was unloved”

lana’s mum victoria (vic) ws a music journalist w a pretty fruitful career ahead of her when she met lana’s dad richard (rich). his record label ws jst starting out, founded on the coattails of his rich best friend’s (jensen peters) investment w his other best friend (who he jst calls knoxville). it rocketed to success when they signed poppy injects, a rock band w an electric stage presence, n victoria ws drawn to the glitz n glamour of a man tht ws at the helm of his aspiring industry. their love ws very impulsive, all or nothing right frm the start, n it ws almost like she ws mre in love w his accomplishments n what he represented than him. jst a leetle bit Fractured in its intentions.

anyway so jameson records repped a few big rock bands bk in the eighties, altho poppy injects r who they’re mostly known fr, namely bc of hw brightly they crashed n burned. they were a big chart success bt the lead singer hd quite an intense struggle w heroin (wsnt rly subtle abt it either while he ws in the public eye as u cn probably imagine frm such an on-the-nose band name) n he ws always in n out of the papers. it eventually brought down his career n it ws a big publicity nightmare

lana pretty much… grew up around figures like this throughout childhood. rly troubled characters who wld kind of… b extremely volatile n destructive abt their troubles. the jameson house was kind of an open one as welcoming clients went n a lot of parties took place there. a lot of the time musicians wld b snorting lines in the kitchen when she wnted to grab a bowl of cereal fr breakfast n it was just. a very strange environment fr a child to grow up in

her parents always kind of jst… didn’t like her much. her older brother caleb ws unplanned bt they sort of welcomed the surprise more bt… quickly realised they weren’t cut out fr parenthood n then when lana came as another surprise 3 yrs later they didn’t even try to hide their resentment abt the situation. her mum ws actually booked in to have an abortion bt cldnt go through with it at the last minute. once when lana asked her why shes so cold towards her she jst turned her head frm her dresser, looked at her, told her abt this n said “idk why i didn’t go”. lana didn’t kno wht to say to tht so she jst left her room n closed the door

(dissociation tw) bc of this growing up lana adopted this weird like…. she didn’t rly kno what it ws bt it ws a delusion of sorts where she thought she ws a ghost. she’d jst sort of… drift around the halls w noone acknowledging her n sometimes she ws jst convinced she wsnt actually there or they cldnt see her n she ws jst haunting the house frm a previous family

the one saving grace tho tht sort of?? gt her thru this n made her feel Seen ws caleb. lana quite genuinely hs always thought the sun shines out of her older brothers ass like she jst thinks. hes the best person in the entire world. wld b rly bewildered if anyone questioned tht. he wld always look out for her in the zoo they called a home n cut the crusts off her sandwiches (he’d cook fr them most of the time bc their parents were too busy/didn’t care to) n sometimes wld even sleep at the bottom of her bed curled up like a guard dog. it ws always lana n caleb n his best friend tommy against the world in tht house (tommy lived next door n was always over bc he had very strict parents including a military father tht he found suffocating)

SO when caleb n tommy announced tht they’d signed up to the army lana ws understandably…….. completely blindsided. she ws rly upset tht they were leaving bt she tried not to b mad at them n made them promise theyd b safe n back as soon as possible. she even asked if they cld somehow take her w them n they were jst like :/ it doesn’t work that way luv x

(death tw, ptsd tw, grief tw, trauma tw, hospitalisation tw, drugs tw) anyway caleb ended up getting discharged under grounds of severe ptsd when he witnessed tommy die in an explosion tht took place in a shock raid. caleb returned home sans tommy bt he was never the same after tht. he’s been in and out of hospital twice nw n he’s currently dipped off the radar after starting to use. lana kind of felt like two of her brothers died out there in a way n jst like tht it wasn’t them vs the world any mre, it was jst her. she doesn’t talk abt this tho. when she feels the urge to cry she usually jst smiles

ANYWAY whew tht rly…. took a dark turn there….. chuckles nervously at hw sad lana’s life is bt it’s fine it’s all fINE!!!!!!! ok. so on a mre lighthearted note the jameson family r pretty well off n bc of her relation to such a big music industry figure she’s hung out w a fair few relatively high rep ppl thru her teens. mostly kids of celebrities n stuff like tht. she amassed kind of an instagram following mainly fr her style (v penny lane-esque in some aspects aka lots of fur cuff trimmed jackets bt then also jst…. a wild combination of everything honestly. pastel faux fur coats, seventies style platforms, flame red cowboy boots, pink fishnet tights n glitter used like highlight Everywhere) n bc she’s undeniably Very Pretty

(trauma tw) after caleb got back he was rly withdrawn n depressed. he shut lana out n was kind of harsh to her a lot of the time, always telling her to leave him alone or pushing her away. it didnt help either tht lana had a rly traumatic experience w some of her dad’s colleagues at the label when she ws 16 n he was away n she cldnt even tell him abt it once he was bk bc of his own traumas. she kind of jst shut it all in n kept it to herself

(hypersexuality tw) this obviously?? made her spiral a lot. she was already a girl tht loved sex (she’d only rly done foreplay before tho) but since her trauma it got…. completely out of hand. it got to a point where she couldnt rly go 2 days without it, probably not even 1. her lowest point has probably been scrolling thru craiglist for anonymous encounters n meeting up w strangers on there fr a quick fuck jst for the thrill even tho it’s insanely dangerous n she cld wind up getting herself killed. it’s v clear at this point tht she has a sex addiction whether she’s ever admitted it or not. it kind of… almost mingled w tht same feeling she used to get when she ws younger of being a ghost?? like she jst. only rly feels Real when she’s being touched

(violence tw) a mre recent point of history is her involvement w danny nielsen (an evil npc of mine who is possibly the antichrist??? pending investigation). he attended radcliffe n lived in a house w a group of guys near campus. it wsn’t a registered frat bt he essentially…ran it like one it ws kind of a weird set-up where he ws the King Of The Roost. essentially he found out tht lana n a guy called zeke slept together n he ended up beating him to near death in front of her bc his pride ws rly bruised since they were meant to be dating (if u can call it tht bc danny’s idea of dating is very Warped). ANYWAY he ws found guilty n sent to jail so it ws like Intense n a gd example of the kinds of disastrous relationships she gets herself into. perks of being a wallflower voice: We Accept The Love We Think We Deserve.

PERSONALITY:

always smells vaguely of wild cherries or strawberry starburst or jst the candy aisle in general. if she ws a vinyl record she’d b this one n she’d only play good vibrations by the beach boys, dancing on my own by robyn, play that funky music by wild cherry, femme fatale by the velvet underground n (i can’t get no) satisfaction by the rolling stones 

growing up lana was always a huge social butterfly. knew everyone n everyone knew her. she ws one of those girls tht ws kind of impossible to ignore or forget. very animated, always made u feel like u were the centre of the universe whenever she spoke to u, always made it feel like u were best friends even if ud only spoken to her once. 

deliberately puts on tht kind of Magnetic Alluring Act tht femme fatales wear in movies w most ppl. kind of…. is always playing A Role of the person tht she wants to b seen as. chameleons to situations. feels like she’s performed as the vivacious n fun loving Lana Jameson fr so long tht she doesn’t rly kno who she is beneath tht bt she isn’t too keen to find out

she’s always been rly spontaneous n adventurous. always doing something weird n wild every weekend. she has ten thousand ridiculously absurd n chaotic stories

uncontrollably flirty. boundlessly confident. cld make a joke out a paper bag n her comedy is sometimes surreal / absurd. she tends to laugh when she feels like crying n has a smile brighter than a ray of texas sunshine. 

always dapples her fingers thru the breeze when she’s driving in a car w the window down. she almost always has some sort of sweet on her, whether it’s sour haribo cherries or strawberry lollipops. 

she adores david bowie n prince n madonna n anyone tht’s a vintage style icon w little care fr what ppl think. 

daisies n poppies r her fav flowers bc daisies r wild n overlooked n poppies r the first thing u look at in a green field. she’s had like 8472493874 ‘relationships’ n none of them hav lasted beyond a month / hav been terrible / hav seen her being treated badly / she’s cheated on them. i dnt think she’s actually ever been w anyone she hasn’t cheated on in some form or another

PLOTS:

exes tht lana’s fucked over hideously. she’d probably cheat a lot and it’d be a whole…mess. 

mayb someone tht flipped the switch and cheated on her? 

a cousin plot cld b fun too. a friend tht lana fel out w bc she slept w their significant other.

a fake dating plot cld b fun honestly 

someone tht’s getting lana into drugs?? she’s kind of impressionable/down for anything so tht’s a likely scenario she’d get into tbh

an unrequited crush!! (either way is cool)

someone tht is just hanging out w her/using her bc she has a lot of instagram followers or they want to b signed to her dad’s label

someone in a band!! she’d probably make like penny lane n b their groupie/sleep w them all fgjkshgkh

umm a good influence too mayb? 

oh and a past summer romance/fling tht cld either have meant a lot or not have meant anything at all. bonus points if both of them hav a diff viewpoint on it. 

honestly?? anything is fine i cld ramble for days. mayb even one of the high profile kids she grew up hangin w idk. world’s our oyster fellas!

[friday-ocean]

Riding A Good Time

Summary: Your day is a complete failure. Bad luck, bankruptcies and breakdowns accompany you. To relax you go to a well-known club to buy something very special. But a big, unfriendly man stands between you and your new world. Or maybe not?

Paring: DrugSeller!Bucky X Reader

Warning: Drugs, SMUT

Authors Note: This is the contribution to @youngmoneymilla writing assignment. Congratulations again for the 5.000! You will surely have doubled the number soon!

Based on the song “Ride A White Horse” by Goldfrapp

MASTERLIST

~*~*~

Wrong foot. Black cat. Broken mirror. Salt spilled. 13. Bad luck. Fate. You can call it that, but you don't have to. In any case it brings bad mood, at least to you.

The day starts almost an hour late - your alarm clock has died silently in the night and you owe it only to your inner clock not to wake up later. The next thing you must notice is that the night before you forgot to load the wet laundry from the washing machine into the tumble dryer. There are now two possibilities: either to wear the uncomfortable, sexy underwear and the much too tight skirt to work, or the comfortable, but damp ensemble. Worried about a bladder infection and the constant uncomfortable feeling of peeing in your panties, you'd rather choose the uncomfortable outfit.

In the restaurant you work in, things shouldn't get any better. Although your colleagues tried to hide your delay from your boss, he had somehow managed to get wind of your absence. He will gladly deduct the hour from your wages...

Around noon almost all the tables were occupied by hungry guests and you could hardly run as fast as people asked for you. Heavy trays of hot food, cold drinks and strong coffees were carried around by you. Despite the hustle and bustle, you managed to meet each guest with a friendly smile. All the greater was your disappointment when you counted the meagre tip. All that fake smile - for nothing!

At the latest at the evening business a thought slowly matures in you. A colleague had drawn your attention to the dissatisfied guests at one of your tables. Without "hello", "please" or even considering your person, they complained directly about the too warm water, the cold food and other little things. With pinched lips you apologize, knowing full well that this is only a bad trick to get a free dessert at your expense. But do you have another option than to take the order and pay for it? Hardly. What is 10 € against the danger of a cancellation?

With sluggish steps you can complete the last tasks of the day. Just tidy up and lock up and you'd finally be off work! The bad luck of the day and the stress of the day urgently needed a drain valve. It's hard to imagine how much worse your bad mood could get...

You open your locker with a sigh of relief. Move quickly and you could start into the evening. Hectically you search the small cupboard. Didn't you always have a T-shirt in here for emergencies? Deo, chewing gums, a thick pantyhose, a towel and felt hundreds of hair bands, but no T-shirt! Not even an old, sweaty one. You slam the door shut with a bang. And now what? A white blouse and black skirt were now inappropriate for your planned trip. In this outfit you have the charm of an incompetent undercover policeman. Inconspicuously, it's different...

Under the white blouse you wear only the uncomfortable, black bra. (Sad, if you consider that not even the one who gave you more tips.) Black skirt, black bra, black shoes... Your eyes fall on your black leather jacket, which you quickly put on in the morning. Actually, you only wear this gem at events, like a dinner or date, but on this cursed morning you just didn't find an alternative. Just wearing your jacket over your bra would be daring, almost obscene, but almost perfect for today's project. Plus, if you wear the jacket almost closed, you'd even keep a little self-respect.

With new self-confidence you leave the small restaurant and turn towards the city centre, towards the colourful lights and the pulsating life. Your goal is a rather unknown club, popular with those who really want to dance and enjoy the music rather than be in the spotlight. A small bonus of this special audience is the great choice of ways to create the evening. Well, you prefer to "ride a white horse".

The doorman looks at your outfit with interest but refuses to comment. That's right, you think bitterly. A sexist saying and you would have ripped his head off with cold anger. The evening is still young, so far there are only a few night characters at the bar and on the dance floor. But to your joy the person you are looking for is sitting at the bar: Sam Wilson, known as "the contact".

With a wide smile you cross the dance floor and slide onto the bar stool next to Sam. His dark eyes only wander briefly over your body, but then get stuck on your face. A broad smile lights up his face as he recognizes you. "Hello sweetie! Long-time no see. How's it going, how's it going?" Sam's good mood is directly contagious, and you give him a little smile: "I hope the day gets even better today". You wink briefly, but Sam understands you as well.

"Well, I'm sure I can do something," Sam's gaze is almost caring as he bends over to you. "I have a new boyfriend like that", his voice only a soft whisper against your ear, "Pale, dark hair, blue eyes, big - should shave again. Wears a hoodie and a denim jacket. Sits in the back of the VIP area and spreads bad mood." You shrink your eyebrows, but don't ask Sam any more questions.

The seller's description is not very friendly, but very accurate. You discover the unfriendly, badly shaved big man immediately. He sits on the red leather sofa, leaning back and his legs wide open, a bottle of beer in his big hand. Next to him sits Steve, a salesman you already know.

Deals are always the same: Sam sits at the bar or stands at the edge of the dance floor. If you want to buy something, you must pass him first. He checks everyone, filters out potential undercover cops and traitors before passing the serious buyers on to the sellers in the club. The sellers change regularly, sometimes even on the same evening. Steve, Natasha, Clint... Familiar faces where you've bought your Winniebago in the past.

Without waiting for an invitation, you settle down next to the tall man on the sofa. "Hi! Long-time no see, Steve!" "Hello little one. Well, how can we help you?" Steve's smile could come directly from a glossy magazine. "I had hoped you could send me to a beautiful new world?" Steve shoots another smile at you: "Of course, little one. My friend Bucky here will be happy to help you!

Your gaze wanders over to the tall figure next to you. Bucky, as you now know, apparently didn't look at you during the whole conversation. He briefly hits his thighs before he rises and leaves the small VIP area. A friendly smile to Steve and you follow his big friend. With long steps he crosses the club again. You have trouble following his fast pace, but at a door leading into the club's internal area, he waits for you. Like a gentleman, he holds the door open for you and you step into the narrow, dark corridor.

Goosebumps spread on your skin and you try to swallow the heavy toilet in your throat. Even if this is not your first purchase, you cannot suppress the growing restlessness in your stomach. "Why do you want to buy something?", the dark voice of Bucky makes you roar around, the eye brown pulled together. His dark, imposing figure is only a few centimetres away from you. The door has closed behind him and the only light in the entire hallway is a single, naked light bulb that creates long shadows.

Although you thought you always had a perfect eye on your surroundings and noticed every interest in your person, you didn't notice Bucky's piercing look. You weren't his first buyer, not even that night. Your whole figure amazed him. Although your outfit is sexy and provocative, you also radiate a certain elegance, with your upright walk and straight shoulders. Dark eyelids speak of a strenuous job, but your eyes sparkle in the colourful light of the spotlights - unlike the veiled eyes of the addict. But much more fascinated is the one of your skin: radiant, soft and a soft redness spreads over your entire chest. Bucky really had to pull himself together to follow the conversation between you and Steve and not stare at your exposed skin.

With a shrug you try to give him an honest answer: "I just... want to relieve stress, relax. The world around me... Feel..." "And for that you need cocaine?", his eyebrows rise and for the first time that evening you see him directly in his ice-blue eyes - his gaze seems to beat you right through marrow and leg. Again, you try to swallow the toilet in your throat before you answer: "It goes so faster. Easier. Cheaper." Another step and Bucky stand right in front of you, his own scent of tobacco, wood and sweet orange surrounds him. "More dangerous?" You wrinkle your nose and raise your gaze: "There are hardly any alternatives."

Bucky's hands hold your upper arms tightly, pushing you against the wall of the hallway. Your lips almost touch, your breath mixes. The blue of his eyes has given way to the black of his enlarged pupils. Is he on cocaine himself? Heroin? Or do you trigger this greedy, animalistic expression in him? "Should I let you feel the world? Bucky's voice is just a rough whisper, but you can hear his seriousness.

"On your knees', Bucky lets go of your upper arms, but his big body continues to press you against the wall. Bucky answers your indecisive facial expression again, this time more emphatically and louder: "On your knees! His piercing gaze and firm voice leave no room for interpretation. You press yourself firmly against the wall and slowly slide down it. Your knees land hard on the floor, you sit with your ass on your legs. His lap floats in front of the tip of your nose, a clear bump stretches out towards you.

Bucky quickly opens his pants and pulls them down with his underpants until his penis is free. You raise your eyes, blink through long eyelashes up to Bucky. The look out of your innocent, big eyes completely upsets Bucky. How could such a beautiful, elegant, immaculate woman have such a desire for something as dangerous and dirty as heroin? An almost animalistic grunt is created in Bucky's throat. He would show you a whole new world.

His big hand lies on the back of your head and before you can even protest, he presses your lips firmly against his limb that he is holding out with the other hand. Shocked, you open your eyes and try to push yourself away from him. But his grip on the back of your head doesn't let up. He keeps pressing his limb against you, stroking your lips with the glans. Intuitively you finally open your mouth, the pressure against your lips too compelling.

The top of his shaft slides in your mouth, bumps against your tongue. You gasp, but Bucky doesn't penetrate any further. Your teeth close around the tip of his penis - a second flickers the fear you might bite over Bucky's face. But you relax your jaw and Bucky can feel your warm, tight and wet mouth.

Slowly, you notice Bucky's very own taste. Salty, a bit bitter, but above all... primitive. An unknown feeling stirs deep in your intestines - a pulling, tingling sensation that slowly spreads inside you. Involuntarily your tongue flickers over the tip of his tail - the bitter, salty taste intensifies. You raise your eyes and look for Bucky's eyes. His gaze from his shining eyes is caught with yours. He had expected to see fear, disgust or disgust in your eyes, but instead your eyes are dark and expectant.

His long fingers begin to draw small circles on your scalp, confusing your long hair. Again, your tongue flickers, but this time it strokes his glans, feeling the soft and sensitive skin.  Bucky supports himself with his other arm against the wall and presses his hip towards you. Slowly you breathe in through your nose, relax your jaw even further and Bucky pushes his penis even deeper. His penis is even thicker swollen, now completely stiff. Your mouth gets wetter and wetter and you stroke the saliva over its length. The tingling in your body flares up - your head starts to fog. There are only the flames in you and the original taste on your tongue. Moisture spreads between your legs, your inner muscles cramp for nothing.

Your hand surrounds his tail just above his testicles, slowly letting your head slide back and forth until your lips touch your hand. Bucky exhales sharply - this isn't his first blowjob, but only you can make the world spin. Your tongue glides over his tail, you feel every protruding vein. A demanding sigh arises in your throat, the vibration shakes Bucky. He closes his eyes and moans; his long fingers massage your head. His face shines with complete bliss. You have never seen a more beautiful sight for which you are responsible. Through the closed door the bass of the music roars, pulsating deep in your chest, your belly, between your legs. More demanding you suck, closing your lips even tighter around Bucky's cock. His muscles cramp, the dark colours around him begin to shine. Presumptuously, your hand embraces his eggs. Your fingers begin to gently massage his sack, in rhythm with your lips.

Suddenly Bucky explodes - his abdominal muscles cramp together and his hot, bitter juice shoots into your mouth. His moaning makes you tremble inside, you swallow every drop like sweet nectar. His tail becomes noticeably softer after the last drop, but you keep your lips closed around him, looking at Bucky only through big eyes. He opens his heavy songs as if after a long, restful sleep. Your sight makes him shudder - you on your knees, your hands on his sack and tail, full red lips. But you have a glitter in your eyes, life, strength, hunger - rosy cheeks and confused hair. Pure ectasia.

Bucky takes a small step back and lets his tail slide out of your mouth. Saliva glitters all over his length and on your lips. You swallow the bitter taste, already now with the desire for more. You still stay on your knees, close to Bucky's crotch. He pulls up his underpants and trousers again, looks at your saliva like a hard-won trophy.

"Show me your new world again."

 ~ Fin ~