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smileyfacemojisworld · 1 year ago

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Credits To @puppiesandnightlock for the idea❤️

THANK YOU SO MUCH @puppiesandnightlock for the Sing 2 Christmas one shot idea(storyline, honestly)

Chapter 1

Buster Moon's POV:

I got out of bed and grudgingly trudged down from my little staircase made of books to open the windows. Bright sunlight blinded me along with an icy chill of.. Wait, is that? I forced my eyes open and squinted, rubbing my eyes ferociously. A gorgeously shaped snowflake landed gracefully on the window plate, as I admired it with awe, I looked down and noticed the rooftops of the houses in the city were aesthetically coated with a thick layer of seemingly fluffy snow. My little mouth dropped in astonishment of the breathtaking sight. It rarely snowed in Calatonia, making it almost a lifetime opportunity to see the city with snow. I was just mindlessly gazing out my window when suddenly the door was kicked open and in came in Porsha, who I recently invited to stay at New Moon theatre. (I'm using New Moon Theatre since we don't know exactly how Majestic looks like, other than the stage.) Porsha rushed frantically to me and gave me a body-crushing hug, while ecstatically squealing, "Merry Christmas Mister Moon! I've invited the everyone to the theatre, Rosita, Norman and all 25 of her kids are coming, oh and don't worry about them, I already went Christmas shopping yesterday, got each and everyone who is coming gifts, ooh guess what I got for Ash, you'll never guess!" My head was spinning, I was clearly dumbfounded, but before I could even mumble a single word in, Porsha started rambling again, "I got her a new guitar case, she's gonna love it, I can already tell! I spent so long trying to decorate it in her style, we two have such different taste, I bought I bunch of stickers from her favourite store to DIY it, and it turned out perfectly, I got Rosita and Norman one of the very best nannies to look after their kids for as long as they like so Rosita won't have to worry and Norman can finally concentrate on work, I'm gonna take the kids to a huge toy store and get them whatever they want, since I don't know all of their likings, Gunter a karaoke system, got Johnny a portable keyboard and sheet music, for Meena I got her new baking stuff and recipes, Miss Crawly loads of new dresses and wigs for her to dress up with, AirPods for Nooshy so she can street dance without having to always lug that bulky radio around, I got Clay a new guitar, since his is, like, 15 years old, Alphonso merchandise for his business and for you I got, oh whoops I almost spilled the surprise!" Porsha covered her mouth with her hand/paw (???) and snickered, "You'll never guess what it is! But don't tell anyone about their gifts, alright?" she warned. I blinked, flustered with all the new information processing through my tiny brain(smol). "Hello?

You there? Come one, we have to decorate the theatre, thank goodness I was reassured by Rosita, who's gonna bring breakfast, we already have so much to do! Now let's go!" Porsha stopped waving her hand in my face and strutted out. I reluctantly followed her out, stretching my arms and yawning groggily, tossing my perfectly pre-planned outfit on, which consisted of my regular snow-white(®) button down shirt, a dark blue suit jacket with matching pants along with a black belt. I lost the bow tie and put on a tie which didn't exactly suit my style, but looked definitely like the explanation of 'Christmas' It was red and green striped, with several, small, Christmas elements around it. I kicked my chocolate brown shoes on and dashed off to find Porsha, who was humping a box of old Christmas decorations, along with a newly, store-bought bag of Christmas decorations, which she willingly offered to get. We emptied the box and bag to find a Christmas tree slightly taller than Porsha, numerous baubles and colourful fairy lights, a glittery golden star, miniature bells that ring a delightfully pleasant tune to hang up on the tree, collectable reindeer, scented candles that smelled pleasingly of peppermint, stockings, decorated wreaths, ornamental angels and fairly expensive snow globes. I lighted up the scented candles and placed them all over the theatre, arranged the ornaments of reindeer, angels and snow globes immaculately and decorated the bottom part of the Christmas tree, while Porsha had to set up the tree, decorate the upper half, hang the fairy lights on and through the ceiling and got the opportunity to position the star. I wiped a drop of perspiration off my sweaty forehead and panted, that was certainly a lot of work, but we got it done just in time! I looked up at Porsha and grinned from ear to ear, thanking her profusely for her help.

Porsha's POV:

Oh, my gosh, today is Christmas! It's the most, wonderful time, of the year! I stayed up all night wrapping all my gifts, I'm exhausted and ecstatic all at the same time! I must say, I think I overdid myself on the presents, but after all, AM earning my own money, now that Buster got me a job here at New Moon Theatre AND I was invited to stay here. I got ready in a blink of an eye, wearing my white cropped top, neon blue puffy jacket, midnight blue ripped jeans and my. ankle length brown uggs. I thought the outfit looked gloomy so I threw on some colourful neon jewellery and stormed off to Buster's room to wake him up. I just noticed the absolute beauty of the snow through his window, it was gorgeous! He and I got ready for the crew's arrival, I seriously can't wait for them to get here!

I planned out a perfect day! First, I pleased Rosita to get us all our favourite breakfast for each of us, who gave in after one request, she's the best! I regret being so rude to her...

My favourite breakfast is french toast and a milkshake with extra whipped cream, Buster's is toasted PB&J sandwiches with milk, Miss Crawly's is toast and tea, Ash's is fruit tarts and lemonade, Gunter's is pancakes with fruit, Johnny's is avocado toast with tea (being British don't mind me), Rosita's and Norman's is coffee, the kids all have different tastes, but they like reallyyy sugary stuff, Nooshy's is- hold on I don't think she eats breakfast, does she? 😃🤔 I texted her she sent me:

GirlieOnFire(Porsha): Heyyyyy

IllegallyDancing(nooshy): hiiiiiii what's up

GirlieOnFire: do you eat breakfast?

IllegallyDancing: no course I don't that's for WEaK pEoPIE🤭🥰

GirlieOnFire: well you really should it's not gUd FoR yA🤓👆

IllegallyDancing: yes I eat breakfast

👁��👄👁️

GirlieOnFire: well you should've just SAID SOO🤨

Illegally Dancing: why am I friends with you

GirlieOnFire: I should be asking that, now what do you eat

IllegalyDancing: well I go to any restaurant and see if they have any food leftover in their trash, why?

GirlieOn Fire: ...

IllegallyDancing: what? 🤨

GirlieOnFire: *Venmo $200*

IllegallyDancing:😨

GirlieOnFire: now shoo and go get smth to eat

So I forgot to ask her her preference🤭 Ah well of I'm gonna guess sweet stuff, cuz she told me the first time she went into a diner was went Johnny met her

Continuing, Clay loves TEA

WITH HONEY(yeah totally for sure I asked Ash 🥰)

So after breakfast, we're gonna walk around caroling and promoting our theatre. I'm gonna surprise Buster with the promoting and his other gift, I managed to convince one of my FAVOURITE FASHION BRAND to sponsor the theatre! I can't wait to see the look on Buster's face when I tell him!

End Of Chapter 1

I’m so sorry, it’s not me best work, I don’t have snow, so I don’t know the experience, please comment some ideas and thoughts, I take criticism very well❤️

If you’re into Jooshy, I highly recommend @puppiesandnightlock ‘s fanfiction, Breakdancing and Romancing, on Fanfiction.Net. This fanfic was the genius story that got me obsessed with fanfics in the first place🤩

#Sing #sing 2 #buster #buster moon #posha #porsha crystal #story #nooshy

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binnie-bear · 2 years ago

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Yuta’s 2 hour Private time -

WARNING: VERY DETAILED 18+, sexual content, will get slightly aggressive and demanding with details such as biting, slapping, slight bdsm and blood. Do NOT read if you are uncomfortable with this actions.

Yuta dom x sub Fem reader

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No, he wasn’t your boyfriend but he also wasn’t just some boy. Together you loved. Together you pleased. Together you experimented. Together you were able to release stress, and worries through entanglements.

It was 2 am and all it took was one message from Nakamoto to know he was on his way, but he was angry. You have know him for over two years but began your fun with him only 4 months ago. For the most part he was a very loving and protective person but never made anything public about you two since you weren’t “dating”. Around friends it seemed like he was a completely different person from the guy you knew in bed. In bed he was rough, harsh and demanding at times but you craved it and you craved him.

Nakamoto: Red

“What could he possibly be mad about now” you thought to yourself knowing “Red” meant he was angry, horny, and needs to let it out. You were excited about this side because something new always cames from it. You quickly turned on the red LED lights in your room and changed into the thin black see-through lingerie dress he bought for you. You let your hair loose throwing your dirty laundry into your closet and took out the black box which held his favorite items. You rushed to close your blinds and do your bed although it wouldn’t matter soon. You lived alone and yuta had his own key so as soon as you heard the roars of his car, and opening of the front door you closed your room door and jumped onto your bed while placing your hands on your waist as if ready to touch yourself. He was here and you were getting excited.

You heard the front door open then close with a slam while keys fell to the floor. His steps were slow but you already knew he had fire in his eyes. The door knob turned and he enters with a long silver blonde hair and a half unbottoned white longsleeve with black suit pants. The silver chain he had on glistened and so did his wet lips. You bit your lip as he stared into your eyes slamming the door behind him.

“My girl is ready for me isn’t she?” He says with a smirk making your breathing unstable. It was clear you both needed eachother and it wasn’t going to be pretty either. He got close to you and you get up from your lying down position to one on your knees at the edge of your bed ready for his lips to be on yours. With no time to prepare he smashed his lips onto yours grabbing your face letting the rings on his fingers cool your cheeks. He was hungry, quickly sliding his tongue into your mouth you almost gagged at how fast he had shoved his tongue into you but you responded quickly letting your tongue battle with his. He ran his hands into your hair slightly tugging it while his thumbs still were able to rub your face. You took this time to let your hands slide down unbottoning his shirt quickly and he helps you remove it off of him and goes back to kissing you once its off. He groans into the kiss and you try to let go but he was quick to bite your lips pulling you onto him so more. He pulls you away from him by pulling your hair and the sight you had before you created fountains beneath you. Shirtless yuta under red lights was your favorite sight. “You’re mine tonight and I want everyone to hear you this time.” He says while leaning into you pulling your head back so that he can access your neck leaving small licks only to find your sweet spot and begin sucking on your soft skin. With one veiny arm he pulled your body closer to his and squeezed your ass slightly pinching his nails into you. You gasp at his movements and he lets you go. As you lean back he grabs your arm pulling you off the bed and you already know to go back on your knees so as you try to do it he pulls you back up with irritated eyes. “Stop. I tell you what I want y/n. Take off the dress.” He says and you nod throwing the dress off of you onto the floor. “wow. My girl is so obedient, you like being my whore huh” he says and you blush at his words. “Talk to me babygirl do you like it?” He asks softly while looking down at you caressing your cheek. “Y-yes I do yuta” you say and he smiles sticking two fingers in your mouth and putting another hand on your shoulder letting you know you can go on your knees. You comply and go down while his fingers push down onto your tongue. “Good girl” he says and slips his fingers out along with a string of your saliva. He licks his fingers and begins removing his belt, his boner was massive and it made you so happy you were the only person who could have the power to do this to him. Although he was always in control you know he couldn’t possibly feel this much pleasure with anybody else but you. He removed his bottoms fast and his length shot out infront of you glistening in pre cum. You placed your hands at his waist kissing his body then placed yourself infront of his tip looking up at him he winked “Hurry up love so I can have my dinner” he says and your lips touched his tip and you licked down his vein once then resumed at his tip and took him into your mouth as deep as you possibly could. With one hand he grabbed onto your hair pushing your head deeper so that he could hear you gag on him. You bobbed your head, gagged, and teared up for him and this wasn’t even the beginning. He began shifting himself into you slowly throwing his head back with a wide mouth, closed eyes, and running his hand back through his long hair. Your choking caused vibrations making the feeling for him even better and seeing you so weak for him made him feel much more hornier without warning he yanked you off of him and lifted you bride style placing you gently on the bed and quickly reaching for the box you laid out by the bed. His back facing you made you whine at the way his back muscles tensed at every movement. “Hands together and out baby” he demands and you do as he says “yuta....i need you” you say with needy eyes and he turns around placing cuffs on your wrist. “Yuta nooo I want to touch you” you pout and he ignores you reaching for his belt on the floor. “Not until I say you can. If you don’t listen you get this”

He stretched your arms back aboved your head and began lowering himself on you leaving wet kisses on your chest removing your bra in seconds and runs his thumb over your nipples circling them as they grew more and more sensitive to his touch. He places kisses besides them until finally he took your breast into his mouth sucking on your hardened nipples and letting his hands slideup and down your sides while you wiggled beneath him. “Yuta I can’t do this let me go” you say needing to feel him. “You can touch me whenever you want, but there will be problems if it’s not when I want” he says knowing you love touching him as he pleased you. He did it on purpose, he wants to use his leather on you but you won’t let him. You moaned whining and he tugs on your nipples biting into them softly but hard enough to feel a sting. You shifted up but he pushed you down pressing his thumbs deep into you. Hes going to leave a bruise. He lets go of your boobs letting them pop as his lips leave you and he heads down to your heat. This part was his favorite and he wants the neighbors to know it too. With his teeth he grabs your panties dragging them off you and spitting them onto the floor. He was quick to spread your legs and hold them up with his arms his saliva practically dripping as he stares into your core with hungry eyes. Leaving no time for you to prepare he dips his head inbetween you finding his way to your clit and circling you while moving his head aggressively letting his nose tickle your skin. You arch your back moaning his name and he sinks his finger nails into your skin causing it to bleed a bit. He was fighting with your body in ways you couldn’t describe. He removed a hand from your thigh and placed two fingers into you pumping and curling them in you as he continued devouring you and slurping on your juices. The noises coming from your juices and his lips was music to your hears and when he slipped a third finger into you there was no denying your climax was nearing. You couldn’t hold back from tugging on his hair and without thinking you lowered your hands grabbing onto his hair while still cuffed and you could feel his smile form while eating you out. He won but you didn’t care at this point. You pulled him into you and pulled his hair calling out his name while gasping for air. His finger pumping was getting quicker and you felt your blood get hotter and your stomach tighten as he moved his tongue at a faster pace while letting out some soft moans beneath you. He admired this sight while licking lips and wiping you with his dry fingers only to taste you more. “Thats too bad you didn’t listen to me baby. Now turn the fuck around.” He says not allowing me to climax.

I honestly nearly cried at this but decided to suck it up and do as I was told. I turned and was on all fours waiting for my punishment to come as I heard him grab the belt. He then came up from behind me and i felt his lips once again make contact with my clit and i turned to see he was kneeling while eating me out and this sight alone had me on the verge of squirting for him but before i knew it a hard hand slap was met with my left cheek as he gripped it and i was hit with two slaps on my right side from his leather belt. “I told you to listen to me whore” he says slapping my ass with the belt again making the sting feel worse. “I’m sorry. Im sorry” was all i could say. “You better be.” He says throwing the belt down and jamming himself into me from behind making me gasp from shock of his movement. Pounding into me hard he slapped my ass again and grabbed onto my hair filling the room with his groaning and my whimpers. He pulled my body up with my hair putting one hand to my throat and the other touching my clit as he still pounded into me. “Squirt for me right now princess.” He says into my ear slighting squeezing my throat harder. I continued to moan feeling my walls tighten at his words and soon enough my liquids came pouring onto his cock as he continued slamming into me. He pulled out after i released my fluids and threw my body onto the mattress facing down. He turned my body over and i squirmed close to his crotch area wanting more of him. “Dirty girl. You want me that bad.” He says with a smirk and a low rasp to his voice. “Yes please. Please i really need you.” I beg him to put it in me again and he bites his lip and i see his dick twitch at my words. He quickly unlocks the cuffs on my wrist saying “good girl. Beg for me” i finally was free and able to hold onto him as he hovered over me. “Please yuta please fill me up” i beg scratcging my nails down his sweaty back. He pounds into me so deep it begins to slightly sting but i love it. He grunts with every thrust he does and i could feel his throbbing cock ready to splurge inside of me. The thought of him cumming inside me allows me to feel a rush causing my walls to tighten and i shut my eyes enjoying my climax. I moan and throw my head back holding onto his body as my pussy tightens and drips onto him. He quickens his pace grunting enjoying how i feel on his dick. “Mmm baby im going to cum inside and fill you up.” He says and finally releases into me. He slows down kissing my neck and moving the hair out of my face. He rolls to my side kissing my forehead.

#kpop imagine #yuta #nct smut #nct yuta #yuta smut #yuta scenarios #nct scenarios #nct 127 #nct imagines #kpop smut

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mercurysstars · 4 years ago

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All That Glitters Is Not Gold (part 7)

Summary: Y/n gets hired to be the avengers chief physician and also happens to be an ex assassin.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Needles, swear words, reader getting angry.

A/N: Okay y’all so maybe the reader has slight anger issues.

𝘍𝘪𝘹 𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨.

Y/n suddenly became aware of the very persistent beeping noise in her ear. No matter what she tried she couldn't get it to stop and it was starting to annoy the hell out of her. She cracked her eyes open, the light-flooded her blinding her for a few seconds but her eyes quickly adjusted.

The first thing she noticed was the white plain walls of the Med-Bay. The memories flickered through her head like a flashing light. Y/n looked down to her bandage arm she peeled it back a bit, by looking at her wound she guessed she might have been out a little over a day and a half.

She grabbed the cords attached to her body and yanked them out causing the heart monitor to start flatlining. Wanda shot right up out of a dead sleep at the sound, looking over to make sure her friend was okay. Y/n didn't even know she was there until she spoke up "Oh good you're alive."

Y/n grimaced "Very much so. How long have I been out?"

"A little over a day," Wanda said confirming what she thought. "After FRIDAY alerted us, Barnes got there first to see you all bruised and bloody."

Y/n could tell Wanda was trying to keep the conversation light which she appreciated. She rolled her eyes and chuckled "You should see the other guy."

"Oh trust me I did." Wanda grinned. "I should probably go get bruce though so I'll be right back."

Wanda left her room. Bruce came in and checked her vitals and drew some blood just to make sure there wasn't anything toxic left in her blood. He said that they couldn't use the cradle because it could harm her further so there would be a scar. But Y/n didn't mind much a little bit of meditation and it would be long gone.

Wanda gave Y/n her phone but had to go because Vision needed some help. Y/n was checking some emails and she heard a little sniffle. She looked up to see a red-eyed Peter peaking into her room. She set down her phone and motioned him over. "Hey, Peter what's wrong?"

Peter seemed a little unsure of himself hesitating to speak. He once again sniffles wiping his face with his shirt. In a little voice, he mumbled, "I was scared you were going to die."

Y/n's heart broke into a million little pieces. She didn't know what to say to him. She wanted to comfort him but she didn't know-how. Y/n did the only thing she knew how. Made a joke out of it. "Oh, Pete you know some half-ass assassin can't get the best of me."

Peter chuckled also while hiccuping. He looked down then back at her. He rushed toward Y/n wrapping his arms around her. Y/n slowly wrapped her arm around him the stayed like that for a few seconds. She rubbed his back and patted it. "Can't breathe. Super strength." She choked out.

Peter pulled back standing next to her bed and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly "I forgot sorry."

"Don't worry about it. And hey get some sleep I'm the one in the Med-bay and you look worst than me."

Peter promised he would. He gave her a get-well card that he bought with his aunt May. He turned to leave. Bucky was standing in the doorway. Peter told him he could go in and left.

Bucky walked into the room. Y/n's face lit up when she noticed him standing there. "Well look who it is. My savior."

Bucky gave a small chuckle. He looked her over. He can't get the image of her lying limp in his arms out of his head. He doesn't think he's ever been that scared or panicked in his life. It became blurry to him after she passed out. He vaguely remembers carrying her the few feet to the med bay and Bruce ordering someone to get him out. Funny how someone can change your life within a few months of knowing them.

"How are you doing." He breathed out turning serious. He sat in the chair next to her bed setting her clothes on the tabled next to them. He couldn't explain it he felt like it was her fault she was in here. Even if he hasn't done it personally.

"Good, I'm good. How's Alpine? I know she has separation anxiety."

"Well, last night she somehow got into my room again. And right now I think she's with Wanda. I'm pretty sure she sneaks her extra treats."

Y/n and Bucky continued to talk. She genuinely enjoyed his company. There was a feeling that she didn't want to name that started to open up whenever he came around. They decided to watch a movie. Y/n was sitting crisscross applesauce and Bucky had his feet kicked up onto her bed while laying back in the chair.

"You actually liked this movie," Bucky exclaimed. Y/n got to pick the movie and she picked newsies. She thought it was the right thing to choose considering it's about young boys in New York. Though it was a little before his time it was basic Bucky and Steve.

"Yes, it was my favorite movie of my teen years. Believe it or not, I thought their New Yorker accents were really hot."

Bucky laughed. He couldn't believe what he was hearing "No way. They are so bad. They aren't even accurate."

"Hey don't judge. I can't help what my teenage hormones find attractive." She jokingly kicked his feet and he put his arms up defensively.

"I'm not, I'm not. It's just that I don't see you like that type of girl. Back in my day, they use to associate accents with thugs or gangs."

"It's the 21st-century hun. Times are different." She put her non-injured hand on her hip.

Bucky raised his eyebrows and smirked "So I'm seeing."

The buzzing of Y/n phone interrupted their conversation. The caller ID read Anthony Y/n put up a finger to signal to give her a moment. She clicked the accept button and a nervous sounding Tony picked up "Hey Y/n how are you? I heard what happened."

Y/n? He never uses her real. That only means one thing. He did something that could potentially piss her off. She was out for one day and this is what happens. "What did you do Tony."

"Okay look so don't be mad when I tell you. Meet me in the debriefing room in 10." He hung up before she got the chance to object.

Y/n slide to the edge of the bed. She swung her feet over. She attempted to stand up but when she put pressure on her foot she nearly collapsed. Y/n didn't remember hitting her foot or anything but it must have been when she dove over her desk. Bucky put his hands on her waist to steady her. "Woah you okay there doll?"

"Yeah. Can you like?" She made a turning motion with her hand. Bucky immediately stood up and turned around.

Y/n took off her hospital gown. Buck caught a glance of 2 long scars crossing her stomach and what looked like to be a burn on her hip through the reflection of the window. He quickly turned away out of respect. Y/n slide on her pants and cleared her throat. "I'm done."

Bucky turns around and sees her supporting most of her weight on her right foot. "Do you want me to get you crutches or a wheelchair?"

"Why would I do that when I have a perfectly good super soldier right here?"

She hobbled over to Bucky and wrapped her good arm around his waist. He rolled his eyes at her being difficult but put his arm around her. He wouldn't admit it but he secretly liked it and thought it was sweet.

They got down to the debriefing room. Tony was pacing around the front muttering something to himself. Y/n and Bucky took up the last two seats. Y/n's foot was throbbing so she put it on the table to elevate it. They waited a couple of minutes for him to start. Natasha finally decided to speak up getting annoyed "You want to tell us what this was about before you burn a hole in the carpet."

Tony stopped to look at them and started to pace again "Okay so I didn't tell you guys everything. That meeting I had was with the UN. They are trying to get General Ross to be ahead of the Avengers instead of Nick Fury."

He paused to let them take it in. Some were confused, and a couple were mad. "Wait are they just trying to do this since we didn't sign the Sakovia accords?" Steve said what most were thinking.

"See that's what I said but they were talking about some bullshit about us being unorganized and dangerous. And the only way they'd stop it is if someone took a truth serum and I said Y/n would."

Oh, this is why he told her not to get mad. She had to take a deep breath so she wouldn't pull off her shoe and beat him with it. Is he stupid? He's a genius but he can't think before he speaks. "So how does it work?" Clint asked.

"Well, they will hook you up to a lie detector machine and inject you with the truth serum. The way it works is that every time you lie the serum will start to burn and your heart rate will start to accelerate."

"So what all do I have to lie about." Y/n finally questioned. She was chewing her lip in contemplation. She's pulled off worst than this and has had more on the line than this.

"What I know for sure is that I said you've been with us for 2 years, you can't tell them how you got that cut and anything that can potentially get us into trouble. Also, you can't take any strong pain meds."

"So basically she has to have one hell of a poker face," Bucky concluded.

Y/n sighs and rubs her head."How long do I have."

"12 hours until wheels up." Tony better buy me so many boxes of pizza she thinks.

Bucky watched as Y/n sat on the floor crisscross applesauce. Her back is the door and the only light in the room is the light from the hallway in the quinjet. Y/n could hear the soft buzz of Bucky's metal arm with her eyes still close she says "You know you can come in Sarge."

That startles Bucky. He walked into the room and sat on the floor taking up space next to her. He looked at her "I came to tell you we are almost there. Are you nervous?"

Y/n thought for a few seconds. Most people in her position would probably be pissing their pants at this moment. Having to go in front of the United Nations and lie straight to their faces. So she answered truthfully "No, no I'm not."

Bucky was surprised. She was genuine in her answer. If it was him he would be having a near stroke. "Really? Anyway so why do meditate it doesn't actually help with anything."

"Actually it does. It helps with my heart rate and it helps me heal faster."

"Oh?" He looked at her expectingly obviously not believing her.

She kicked out her leg and lifted the pant leg to her suit. The bruise was gone and she rotated her foot and wiggle her toes to prove she wasn't in any pain.

Y/n grabbed his shoulder as a crutch to help her get up and grabbed her heels. Bucky looked up at her. "You know I can't seem to figure you out."

Y/n paused and pursed her lips in thought "Somethings are better off left as mysteries." She patted his shoulder and walked out.

Wanda, Natasha, and Y/n broke off from the rest of the Avengers, having to go to the medical room so she could get a mini medical exam.

The girls walk through security. Natasha dropped all of her weapons in a bin so she could pick them up later. They put a device around Wanda's neck so she couldn't use her powers. Y/n could see how uncomfortable it made her. She walked over to Wanda and whispered "I feel bad you have to wear that. You didn't have to come."

Wanda looked at her and have a small sad smile "What you're about to do is worst than this. It's the least I can do for you helping us."

Y/n nodded to her. Security officers escorted them to the medical room. They had Y/n sit on a bed. They made her pee in a cup, took her blood, and checked her medical history. Natasha was giving her advice. While she knew most things it was still nice having someone coach her through and remind her of it.

When they finished Wanda went to join the rest of the Avengers. Natasha walked her to the door she adjusted Y/n's suit "You've got this. We'll be supporting you in the crowd."

"Thank you Nat for everything really." She hugged her and Natasha gave Y/n's arm a reassuring squeeze.

Y/n took a deep breath. She stepped into the room. The room was a half-circle shape with large windows behind it. In the back were journalists and reporters. And in the front were the UN personnel were located. Y/n walked past the Avengers and took her seat in the middle of the room.

Y/n could feel everyone's eyes on her. She got blinded momentarily from the flashes of the cameras. She looked over to the Avengers. Tony, Bruce, Clint, and Steve at the end. Bucky in the middle. And Sam, Natasha, Wanda, and Vision on the other end. Wanda gave her 2 thumbs up and Y/n smiled back at her.

Staff came over and started to unpack and hook her up to the lie detector machine. They took off the jacket to her suit and connected wires to three fingers on her right hand. They put a blood pressure cuff on her left tricep and inflated it. Ross stood up and cleared his throat being the room's attention on him.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I'm General Ross and I will be doing the questioning on the behalf of the UN."

He turned his gaze to Y/n. "We're going to test the lie detector first." Y/n nodded to him and he began.

"Is your legal name Y/n Y/l/n?"

"Yes." Y/n states.

"True." The man in the chair next to her says.

He looked down at the paper he had in his hand looking for his next question. "Very well. Were you born Y/B/D 1995?"

"Yes."

"True."

"Are you nervous?"

Natasha's words come back to Y/n. Lie once. Lie about something small. So they don't get suspicious. Y/n let her heart rate pick up a bit and purposely avoided eye contact. "No."

"Lie."

"It's okay to be nervous. God knows I would." Ross joked a few people chuckled and Y/n had to physically hold back an eye roll. He thinks he got her but in reality, he's right where she wanted.

He nodded to the staff and they walked over to her and began to prep her. They cleaned a small area of her arm with an alcohol pad. "This might hurt a bit." One muttered.

They stuck the needle into her arm and injected the serum. At first, it felt cool but then it hit her all at once it felt like someone poured a pan of grease on her. Y/n's skin was on fire, she bit her cheek so hard it nearly drew blood.

Bucky watched as Y/n closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If it was anything like the Super Soldier serum he knew it burn. She opened her eyes and if he didn't witness it he wouldn't even know it happened seconds ago.

General Ross walked back to the front and began to speak "We are ready to proceed. Did it hurt? I've never tried it."

"Yes." Like a bitch.

"What role do you play for the Avengers? Tony mentioned you've been there for 2 years."

"I'm their Chief Physician." The second part of his sentence was a statement so she missed lying by an inch.

"True."

He asked questions like that for a while or worded them differently. The questions were getting repetitive and Y/n was getting bored and impatient. She hasn't had to lie yet not that she wanted to. Especially not when she has the truth serum from hell injected in her veins.

"Have the Avengers ever put you in any unnecessary danger?" Ross questioned.

"Never." She replied trying not to bounce her leg.

"True."

"Tell me Miss Y/l/n how did you get that cut? It looks pretty deep." He paused seemingly watching for her reaction.

"My cat. She has some pretty mean claws." Y/n stated without missing a beat. She felt the burn of the serum. It wasn't as bad as the injection but damn did it fucking hurt. Despite that Y/n kept a straight face starting to get annoyed with him. She could hear the flutter of the cameras.

"True."

"Would you consider Miss Maximoff unstable in any way, shape, or form?"

Y/n has to stop her eyes from going wide. What the hell kind of question was that besides rude. It's like he wants her to lash out at him. "No."

The man watches the monitor for a few seconds "True." He finally says.

"Would you consider Mr. Barnes dangerous?"

The audacity of this man. You want to see someone dangerous? Let's see how dangerous I am when I choke you out with this cord that's wrapped around my finger- "No"

"True."

"Are you aware of his past?"

"Very much so. And that where it should stay the past. I don't know what you're trying to get at general."

"True."

"Were you aware that we are starting a search for Lilith and anyone with information on her that doesn't come forward will be sent to the raft? And were you aware that if we find her we are ordered to kill on sight?"

Y/n gets a bitter taste in her mouth. This cannot be happening. She can't freak out right now. She clenched her jaw "No I was not aware of either."

"True."

"Very well that's all." Ross returned to his seat among the UN.

The staff came over and unhooked her from the machine. Y/n felt like she could finally breathe. She stood up and walked out without glancing back. The Avengers did the same meanwhile getting swarmed with paparazzi.

Part 8

My mini taglist

@theashlynbarnes @writingonabrokenwall

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes

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amethystpath-writes · 4 years ago

Text

P2 A Nice Catch

Part 1 here

(NOT A PROMPT)

Oooh, A Nice Catch was *chef's kiss*. Could you continue it? Maybe completely, not thinking straight, grief-stricken villain goes after Supervillain and the supervillain hurts him because the villain is very dangerous/angry and then maybe the Supervillain has to caretaker because they have a bleeding, sobbing villain at his feet.

Sorry if that seems bossy or specific, but i really loved the piece and my brain went haywire with all the possible endings. But do whatever you want to.

Not bossy at all <3

******

Flashing red lights on a Saturday. Supervillain sighed. The sound was probably the most obnoxious part of it all. No matter. Needs to be dealt with. Even his thoughts were gruff and tired. He would never admit it to anyone else but tracking down that little rat and weakening her was difficult. No wonder Villain struggled with her so much. Doesn’t explain how he developed feelings for someone so righteous though.

‘I don’t know what your life has entailed but there are other ways of healing. I can help you.’ Hero had said to him upon being captured.

Healing. Supervillain scoffed as he urged himself off the couch, turning the television off, and flipping off the lights, trying to make the quarters look vacant. There were various other electronics still on, but they were necessary for security- which was currently blaring.

I don’t need healing. I need power. Power to take down all those shitty, rich neighbourhoods. What good were they when so many people were left on the streets, starving, and begging for pocket change? The rich didn’t care, and for it they would perish. Villain used to agree.

Now, Villain was bent on a ‘The rich are a necessary part of the economy. Without them, there would be a middle class and the rest of the economy profits off the middle class,’ idea.

With a grumble, Supervillain left his lounging area, walking instead to the monitor room.

“Camera one, good. Camera two, fine. Cam three. Four. Five. Six. Then why the hell are the alarms going off?”

Not a single room revealed even a twitch of movement or a breeze to rattle lobby plants.

Ker-pshhh. The radio. The only other people working right now were part of the security faction. Meaning, Supervillain needed to respond, especially since the radio was going off. He grabbed the speaker off the side of the metal box and brought it to his mouth while holding the button. “What is it?” It no doubt had to do with the alarms.

“Sir? There’s been a breach in Building 2, third hall monitoring room. One body confirmed to be dead.”

“Any others?”

“No response from Radios 8 through 13. I’m in room Fourteen now…Sir? I think I’m next.”

Supervillain pinched his brow. “Have you gotten into contact with Buildings 3 and 4 yet?”

“No response from them. I’d gotten the alert from Radio 21 and sent it to Building 1 as soon as I got it. I don’t know who it is, Sir, but if they’ve made it as far as they have then I’m afraid-”

There was a crash on the other end of the radio before it cut out. Supervillain cursed under his breath before slamming a hand on the counter before him. He squeezed the button on the radio. “Whoever you are,” Supervillain growled into the speaker, “you’re dead.”

Silence.

Ker-pshhh.

“Oh, I’m very much alive,” a voice said. A voice which made Supervillain groan and slap his forehead with the blunt of his hand.

“Villain, what the hell are you doing?” His voice was more disappointed than anything and he released yet another groan. “Don’t tell me this is because of the rat.”

It didn’t take a second for Villain to respond. “She isn’t a rat.”

Isn’t. Oh boy, this was a case of grief, wasn’t it? “You didn’t dress her up and put her in your kitchen to eat breakfast with, did you?” Supervillain joked. “Probably had to spritz her with some of your cologne a few times, huh? Would smell like rotten meat otherwise.”

“You must want me to kill you. It’s why you tried to kill her, isn’t it? Isn’t it? You’re sick of living this sad and vengeful life, so you did the one thing that would piss me off enough to do this- to sabotage your own business.”

“Villain, old buddy, you’re in over your head.” A sigh. “I killed her, alright? She’s dead.” Supervillain refrained from calling Hero a rat for another time, seeing as it sent Villain over the edge. “And it was for your own good. You were becoming weak, and your business was falling because of it. Do you even realize how much fell apart all because you let her slither into your heart?”

“The old boxing pit on Third Street,” Supervillain explained, “underwent construction shortly before you were about to buy it. You know what was left at the scene- what the media didn’t cover? A mallet with Hero’s DNA on the handle. She smacked at the foundation, Villain, until it was bad enough to need repaired. What’d you go and do then? You bought a greenhouse instead- reported to your employees that it would benefit them because they wouldn’t need to go buy a lunch for themselves. She manipulated you, Villain, into someone you’re not.”

“She helped me become the best person I could be,” Villain gritted out, but his voice sounded with an echo. Supervillain paid it little mind.

“The rat changed your priorities.”

“They needed to be changed.” Supervillain squeezed his eyes shut, grimacing at the door slamming against a wall as Villain came crashing in. Well, that’s why I heard his voice twice. Once through a radio, and second through the door.

“That’s gonna cost you, but I tell you what.” Supervillain spun on a heel and told Villain, “You go in halfsies and I’ll let this whole thing slide.”

Nothing could have stopped the fist which Villain sent towards Supervillain, one nearly bone-crushing. One which sent Supervillain staggering back into his radio, pushing it up against the wall with a bang.

“I’m the one in the position to grant mercy, not you.” Villain began walking towards Supervillain as he regained himself but as Villain raised a fist, his old friend launched a hand of his own forward, grasping it tightly. In Villain’s shock, he lacked the response to pull away, and was instead pulled towards Supervillain while being turned, his back flush against Supervillain’s chest, his arm skewered behind his own back.

Of course, Villain fought against his old friend, wanting nothing other than to send another fast-flying fist in Supervillain’s face…or his groin.

“Villain. Villain, hey!” This made the more vengeful of the two cease his struggle. “Look, I know you’re mad, alright? You loved the ra- Hero, and you were blinded by that love, so much so that it clouded your judgement. It happens to the best of us, Villain.”

“You killed her.” Villain gave another jerk, this time with a tear in his eye. Realizing such raw emotion was leaking out, he corrected himself with a shout, “She was everything I had!”

Supervillain sighed, tightening his grip as Villain continued fighting him. “Yeah…you said that one before.” Supervillain let go, not waiting a moment before pushing Villain’s back, causing him to stumble forward, nearly passing through the door which he left open when he so rudely barged in. “Villain, listen to me, bud. You are better off without her. That love you felt was going to cause you to lose everything you worked so hard to build, and even if that weren’t the result, you would always have this internal conflict- to do-”

“To do the right or wrong thing?” Villain seethed, righting himself against the doorframe which Supervillain pushed him towards. “Supervillain, we’ve been doing wrong this whole time! Nothing we have done has been good by any moralistic means. We kill people.”

We kill people. Supervillain could almost laugh at the irony. “You killed at least one of my men today. One, which was confirmed out of twenty-eight. You’re just as bad as me.”

“Because you killed the one person in this world I could ever find myself loving.”

“You depended on her dammit! Don’t you see what I’m seeing? You don’t even know who you are without her coaxing her own ideas into your ear. You needed this. You needed her gone.”

“I needed her.” Villain’s voice finally broke like the day Hero was killed, when she was shoved through without remorse, discarded like a candy wrapper, and called a ‘rat’ without pause. “I needed her, and you stole her from me.”

Can’t bring her back, now, can I? But Supervillain didn’t say this, for he knew it was entirely pointless. Villain would just keep repeating those same few phrases, which Supervillain heard as, ‘I’m sad. You’re a monster and I can’t acknowledge myself as one. I miss my crutch and my ankle is always broken. Blah. Blah, blah. Blah, blah.’

“You need someone who you can rely on, who can rely on you just as easily, Villain.” Now onto the more sensitive topic once again. “I don’t remember you stepping forward to help Hero when she was shaking beneath my arm. You loved her, but not enough to sacrifice what we have here. We’re friends, Villain. We’ll always be friends. No one knows you as well as I and no one knows me as well as you.”

“Come sit down with me,” Supervillain finished. “In the lobby. I’ve got a few fridges, one with your name on it- literally. You stopped coming around, but I keep a stock of that weird soda you like.”

Supervillain was so casual, so friendly. It was as if he actually cared, had wanted to continue being friends, and had done everything he could to be friends. As much as him killing Hero hurt, as much as Villain wanted to hate him for it…it seemed as though Supervillain did it to help. Because Villain did rely on Hero, didn’t he? He looked to her for everything- even what food to buy. And the timing of the boxing pit was odd; what if Hero really did destroy it so that Villain would buy something else? Something that catered more to her own thoughts and reasoning than his own?

“I’ll sit down for one soda,” Villain said. “One.”

******

@digitalart-tw I considered being kind and bringing the Hero back. I really did. But the evil runs rampantly through my veins and knows no end.

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jenomark · 4 years ago

Text

PART 1: LUCAS, THE BOYFRIEND

➔Pairing: Lucas x Reader (Female) | Ten x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Smut (+ angst, + fluff, + plot) ➔Warnings: vaginal penetration, passionless sex, exchanging money for sex, very light bdsm and mentions of pegging ➔Word count: 5,107

➔Summary: You don’t know what you do. You don’t even know who you are. Some would call you a whore. Some would refer to you as a sex worker. All of your clients would say you’re damn good at your job.

MASTERLIST

It hadn’t rained in months. It felt strange to hear it coming down hard enough to drown out Lucas’ snoring. You laid in bed and listened a little while, wishing that it would lull you back to sleep somehow. But your eyes were wide open and they kept searching for the clock Lucas kept on his bedside table. 2:45 a.m. 3:14 a.m. 4:20 a.m. Time kept moving as you stayed still, eyes occasionally glancing up at the water marks on his ceiling, and hoping the rain wouldn’t drip through.

“Lucas.” you whispered.

When he didn’t stir, you sat up in his bed and reached for your phone. He slept soundly on the nights when you had sex, which suited you just fine. You didn’t want him turning over in the night and asking you why you weren’t sleeping.

You unlocked your phone, your password far more complicated than it needed to be. You and Lucas once got into an argument when he asked you what you were hiding from him. You felt too exposed, for someone with something to hide. You felt like you no longer belonged to yourself, and he felt hurt that you didn’t want to share what secrets you kept.

Unread text messages: 56 Unread emails: 134

Your phone wallpaper was a photo of Lucas during Christmas of last year. He was smiling and holding up a gift you had bought him: an expensive watch nestled in black satin. You remembered the moment well. He opened the box and nearly dropped it to the floor when he realized it was the same model of the one he’d been lusting after for years. Every little boys dream was to own an expensive watch just like their father, and Lucas was no different.

“We can’t afford this.” Lucas had said.

You, not we. You had wanted to say it, but his family was around the Christmas tree and all eyes were on you. It was true that Lucas could not afford the watch with his low-end salary, but you could. Of course, you had to play the part of the lowly office worker with a salary fit for someone shoved into a shoebox apartment.

“Don’t worry about it,” you had said to soothe him. “You’re worth every penny.”

And Lucas was. You were with him because he was the first man in a while to make you feel alive. He used to be more daring before he got older, used to make you laugh so hard you’d nearly piss your pants. Like all things, the older things get, the harder it is to keep them in good condition. Your relationship with Lucas never failed on the surface, not really, but there were too many things brewing underneath. You were a lot like the watermarked ceiling: barely holding it together.

You checked to make sure Lucas was sleeping before opening your inbox full to the brim with emails from men. The descriptions were all the same: I’m tall, handsome, and worth your time. The names all basic and no doubt aliases, were lined in a row for as far as you could scroll down. Every once in a while, you would entertain one of them and look at their email, expanding it so you could see their plea. Pick me, I’m a winner.

Tonight's lucky winner was a twenty-three year old artist. The picture attached was of a man smiling, his whole face lighting up at whomever was behind the camera. He looked barely legal, and definitely too cute for what he wrote in his description

WinWin, 23. I want to fuck you raw and parade you around town to all of my friends.

Not today, kiddo.

You closed the email and set your phone back in your lap. You wondered how much longer you could keep it up.

You were dreaming of him, which you did often. He was sitting at his kitchen table, his tie undone and resting around his neck, and a newspaper spread out in front of him. You waltzed into the kitchen in a bouncy dress, announcing your presence with a slight clearing of your throat. The picture felt very old school, static-y lines and scalloped edges. Like a dream of the past, you were bordering in housewife territory, red lipstick turning grey in the black and white film. He looked up immediately to smile at you over his shoulder. The camera panned to reveal a table with food set on it, and two children sitting in chairs.

“Is it almost ready?” he asked

All you wanted to do was go kiss your dream husband and wrap your arms around him. You wanted those kids to pull faces, like they were really disgusted their parents were still in love after all the years. But you couldn’t move. You looked down and your little kitten heels were stuck in quicksand that was dragging you under too fast. He couldn’t save you. He didn’t even care, just went back to his newspaper. It was all white noise.

You woke with a jolt, shooting up so fast that Lucas came out of the bathroom. A toothbrush was hanging out of his mouth, and he wasn’t wearing clothes.

“Bad dream?” he asked, toothpaste spitting in all directions.

You looked at his body, just trying to collect your thoughts. Lucas assumed you were checking him out. He started flexing his muscles to make you laugh, showing you all the parts of him he’d been working out lately. You smiled for his benefit and held your hand to your chest.

“Nightmares,” you said. Lucas went into the bathroom to rinse his mouth. When he came back out, he was heading towards his wardrobe. “Are you leaving for work so soon?”

“Gym.”

“Again?” you asked. “You went last night. Isn’t it true that if you go to the gym too much you’ll leave a very disgruntled and lonely girlfriend behind?”

When Lucas wasn’t working out, he was at work. During the day, he was the terribly intimidating Veterinarian assistant, his pink scrubs and puppy pin making all the Great Dane’s growl in his direction. From another direction, all the women who worked there practically swooned when he walked his muscled body through the door.

You got out of bed and opened the blinds. “The rain stopped.”

The view was terrible, but he got what he paid for. You watched the little old lady from across the other apartment building hang her clothes on a line. When you turned back to talk to Lucas, he was silently masturbating.

“Oh shit,” he breathed.

You closed the blinds quickly before he practically tackled you, lifted you into the air and swung you around.

You screamed like you were being murdered. “Lucas! Put me down.”

He lifted up your pajama shorts and smacked your ass. His laugh was loud and boisterous, and you couldn’t help but laugh with him. He dropped you on the bed. His big cock was swinging between his legs before he took it back in his hands and continued stroking himself. You weren’t in the mood for sex, but the sight of him standing over you made it hard to resist.

“I have to be at work.” you said, your eyes on his cock.

“That doesn’t sound very convincing.” he laughed.

He took your ankle and pulled you to the edge of the bed, sliding you across the sheets like hot butter in a pan. You were taking off your shorts and panties while still denying him access.

“I do!” you said. “And I need you to drop me off at my apartment so I can get my things.”

You didn’t need to tear your tank top off. Lucas pulled the spaghetti straps off on either side to reveal your breasts. His big paws were on you as he moved closer. Without wearing a condom, he pushed himself inside of you, both hands holding either breast while he thrusted.

There was no talking as you fucked. Lucas took your leg and placed it on his shoulder. He kissed your calf softly. There were always tender moments like that, where it felt like it was only him and you that existed in the world. His eyes were big and brown and full of love whenever he looked at you. You hoped that when he looked into your eyes, he didn’t just see his own reflection peering back at him.

You felt something swell inside of you with a big wave, before quelling. Lately, you couldn’t seem to orgasm with him. There was a mental disconnect somewhere between him and you, but that didn’t stop you from pretending. You moaned and told him you were coming, even though you and him could feel yourself drying up.

Lucas lifted your ass up and held your body as he moved, his pace too fast for you to enjoy. You just stopped moaning and stared at him, your mind completely blank. Whenever he came, the veins in his neck popped out. You were expecting him to come inside of you, but when he pulled out and came on your stomach, you let him. You held him as he collapsed on top of you, his big body making it harder for you to breathe.

Dressed in his gym clothes, Lucas sat in the driver's seat. The drive over to your apartment was silent, mostly because Lucas still hated that you hadn’t moved in with him yet. The other reason was the awkwardness that existed after you both had sex. You laid on the bed for far too long with his semen pooling in your belly button. Not bothering to hand you a towel to clean up, he very quietly got dressed.

Lucas had never came on you before. He had always been the romantic look-me-in-the-eyes-as-I-fill-you-up type of guy. It’s not that you didn’t like it, just that it was so out of character you were wondering if something was wrong.

“Do you want me to come inside?” he asked.

You snapped out of your thoughts, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “I think I can handle it on my own.”

You got out of the car and walked up your steps without looking back at him. You went inside and closed the door behind you, leaning against the wood to regain your nerve.

You didn’t like Lucas being anywhere near your apartment. He was insecure that yours looked a little better than his. Whenever he was there, he had a million questions about the things you owned. Why they were so expensive. Why it seemed like you had never lived there. You assured him it was because you spent the majority of time at his apartment, but there was always a bitter taste left in both of your mouths any time it was brought up. The other reason was that you weren’t sure what he would find if he looked hard enough.

You ran up the stairs and unlocked your second door. You could never be too careful. Inside, you were met with a musty smell. You didn’t bother cleaning as you went, just tore through the place gathering what you needed. You stopped briefly to look at yourself in the mirror, at the way your pantsuit hugged your body. Business professional is what the saleswoman had said. It’s what all the men want.

What do you know about what men want? You wanted to ask her.

You moved on, click-clacking your way to your bedroom. Your bed was unmade, and there was trash strewn everywhere. You opened the door to your walk-in closet, grabbed a duffel bag and started shoving lingerie into it. You picked up a pair of handcuffs and threw them aside. Rifling through your things didn’t help you find what you were looking for. You cursed out loud and sat down in your closet, leaning your head against the wall.

“Must be in the other apartment.” you whispered, trying to recall where it was.

By the time you made it back to the car with Lucas, he had fallen asleep. You tapped the window and apologized for taking so long.

Lucas pulled up in front of your office building. He hadn’t asked why you brought a duffel bag, because after his nap, his attitude was so damn chipper that he couldn’t stop smiling. He leaned over the console to kiss you.

“You know what?” he said. “I’ll walk you inside.”

There was a panic in your chest. “No, baby, it’s okay.”

He didn’t hear you. He was halfway out of the car. Lucas opened your door and held out his hand for the duffel bag. Reluctantly, you placed it in his hand and got out of the car.

“So, what time do you work until?” you asked, your eyes on the bag he was holding.

“Late day,” he said, taking your hand with his other. “I won’t be home until after dinner. Save me some?”

“Of course.”

Normally, Lucas would lead you, but it was your place of work, so you did the leading. You opened the door and walked inside, your heels tapping against the marble. The woman at the front desk and the security guard both nodded at you at the same time before looking back to what they were doing. You guided Lucas to the elevator.

“Are you done the same time as always?” he asked. “I can send someone to pick you up.”

“No, that’s okay.”

You stepped into the elevator. You weren’t the only people in there. Luckily the office building was so big that you didn’t need to know everyone. He held your hand the entire ride, giving it a little squeeze. And every time he did, you were forced to look at him and smile.

“This is me.” you said, stepping out.

A glass wall separated the hallway from your offices, gold lettering etched on all of the doors. Lucas had never made it this far up, so his eyes were taking in everything like a greedy child.

“This looks expensive,” he said. “No wonder they pay you so well. Maybe I should quit and get a job here.”

You laughed. It was obligatory. You leaned on your tip-toes and kissed Lucas at the same time you ripped the duffel bag from his hands.

“Call you during break?” you asked.

Lucas smiled. “Yeah,I’d like that. I love you. Have a good day.”

You could tell he didn’t want to leave. He was too curious about what was behind the glass wall. He could see people milling about, stacks of papers in their hands. There were cubicles and privacy offices, a break room that was too high-tech for a plain office building.

“I love you, too,” you said. “If you just go down to the ground floor I’m sure someone can help you find your way out.”

You waited until the elevator doors closed to walk through the glass ones, crossing the threshold like you were walking into a new world. As soon as your heels stepped down into the grey carpet, you walked a little looser, your hips swinging. You did feel professional. And as eyes were on you in every corner of the room, you were the one person who knew exactly what men wanted.

The office. You didn’t belong. Everyone could smell it on you, that new car smell that always seemed to drive right onto their floor and disrupt everything. For many of them, you were something they couldn’t afford. Oh, how they’d love to test drive you, though. As soon as they got a tasty look at you, all cream interior and buttered seats, all eyes seemed to avoid meeting yours. You sashayed across the floor in peace, your eyes scanning cubicles and the people coming and going.

“Hey.” a familiar voice called.

You ducked down beside a cubicle. A woman sat in a chair, her long legs bare and freshly waxed. She crossed them and swiveled her chair to face you. You picked up a paper from the floor and shoved it in your pockets.

“You’re early.” she said.

“Needed time to change.” you shrugged.

You put your hand on her shoulder to lift yourself up and kept walking. No one stopped to talk to you, and there was something lonely in that feeling you couldn’t put your finger on. You stopped before a door, one of the only non-glass ones in the whole place. Your manicured fingers against the shiny door knob made you pause. You caught your reflection for the second time that day, the distorted figure grimacing back at you.

You would never open the paper so brazenly in front of other people, but it was the calm breath you needed before you opened the door. It was what would launch you, truly, from this office into the next part of your journey. You opened the paper and stared at each letter burning a hole in your retinas.

Sweetie, I miss you. Today’s advice is to never look behind you.

You tucked the paper in your bra. Every inch of you wanted to look behind you, but instead, you opened the door to the dark closet and changed your clothes.

You stepped out of the closet dressed in clothes one would find in the mens department. Sweatpants that could be worn playing basketball, a grey sports t-shirt with faded writing, and a black windbreaker. Your sneakers were white with little worn marks on the side, and your hair was thrown underneath a ball cap. If anyone thought you were crazy for entering as yourself and exiting as someone socially male passing, they didn’t bat an eye.

Passing by the cubicle, the woman whistled. “If I didn’t know you, I would have you bend me over this desk right here.”

You smirked. “Only if you pay me enough.”

You threw the duffle over your shoulder and kept walking, all of the confidence in the world in the way you moved. People still looked at you, but it was in a new, illuminated light. You walked through the glass and made it to the elevator.

“Excuse me.” you said, weaving your way past a man.

“No problem.” he said, eyeing you up as he stepped out. He stared at you until the doors closed.

In the lobby, you waved hello to the woman at the desk and the security guard. Both were unbothered by your new attire. You swung open the front door and stepped into the sunlight where a black, unmarked car was waiting for you.

“Am I too early?” you asked the driver.

“Right on time, miss.”

He opened the car door and you slid in, the leather feeling cool, even through your sweatpants. In a fancy car like that, you felt underdressed, but it was all in the job description. He shut the door and went around to the drivers side, any chatty banter he may have started falling short of his lips.

You took out your cell phone and unlocked it.

Unread text messages: 72 Unread emails: 212

You looked at the very last message from Lucas sent right after he left:

I love you more and more every day. See you when I get home.

Trees. That was all you saw. Streets with trees lining them, parks with the healthiest limbs and most luscious green leaves. They stood proud and strong, only wavering with a slight wind. Occasionally, when you were lost in thought, they played against the glass of the car window, a kiss of a leaf here and there, as if to say, “Welcome, open your eyes.”

“We’re almost there,” the driver said. “He asked that I don’t escort you inside. I expect you know your way around.”

You nodded, making eye contact with the driver in the rearview mirror. He was judging you, you could tell. He wasn’t new, by any means, but the lifestyle took some getting used to. When you first met the driver, you were scared of what he thought of you, but now you didn’t spare a single thought for him at all.

The car came to a stop in front of a three-story brick building, its red face powerwashed to pristine condition. There were flower boxes on every windowsill and forest green shutters. A wreath on the door felt welcoming, but only if you were someone who liked open invitations. In the neighborhood, that might have been plausible, but only you really knew what lay beyond the oak front door, its stained glass windows more expensive than Lucas’ monthly rent.

“Thank you.” you told the driver.

You stepped out of the car, your sneakers crushing a twig. It was the only blemish on an otherwise clean street. You closed the door behind you and held your duffel bag in your hand. The driver waited a beat before driving off, his strict time schedule unable to be rearranged if you chickened out.

But you would never chicken out. Before you was a place you had been to many times. Anyone who looked out of their window would recognize you, even if the flavor of you didn’t sit well under their tongue. As you ascended the stairs, no one bothered to push aside their curtain for a glimpse of the girl dressed in baggy clothes, every trace of her from this morning vanished completely.

You walked right in.

You were met with a smell that hit you instantly: cinnamon. Candles burned on a foyer table, the wick barely black.

Just lit, you thought. You have to be around here somewhere.

The home inside was cozy, deep blue accents and unexplainable modern art tucked into corners of the room. It was the home of someone with an eye for the unusual, but whose very facade made one feel more comfortable with themselves. You walked further inside, your fingers touching along the walls. When you were away, you missed the smells terribly.

“Where are you hiding?” you asked. “Little kitten.”

You walked further inside, your shoes still perfectly on your feet. At his request, he wanted you to keep them on. You never asked why, but you expected that after you left, he got on his hands and knees and scrubbed his floor after your every footprint, in his bid to serve you.

“Don’t you miss me?” you asked.

There were so many doorways without doors. You weaved in and out of rooms, taking your sweet time to make sure he could hear you trampling through. You touched some things softly, and others, haphazardly. You didn’t wince as a part of a measuring cup family fell from its hook, clattering to the ground loud enough to make your teeth hurt.

“Tenny,” you said. “Come and play.”

You wandered up the stairs, your manicured fingers tapping against the wooden railing. You let the duffel fall to the ground when you made it to the top, and rubbed your shoulders.

If the downstairs was grandmother chic, the upstairs looked like the hallway of a sex club.The walls were deep sapphire and velvet, gold tassels dividing each door. You walked down the center, looking foolish and out of place. On your right, you went in through the first door to an empty bedroom. You looked around but could find nothing.

“This is taking too long,” you said. “What if I just leave?”

A sound tipped you off. Your head snapped in the direction you heard it coming from: the very last door on the left. You walked towards it, stopping before it. You rubbed the wood, massaging it in your palm.

“My little kitten.” you cooed.

You opened the door to find him in plain sight. His arms were above his head, his wrists strapped to a mechanism chained to the ceiling. He was naked and blindfolded, and there were headphones around his ears so he couldn’t hear anything. You stepped in but didn’t close the door behind you. You stood in front of him, watching as he mouthed the words to a song. When you pulled the headphones down his neck, he gave a little shake.

“You were right under my nose the whole time.” you said.

You walked around him. His joints looked like they were straining too much. He could hardly keep himself up right. And yet, he began to smile as you made your way back to him.

“How long have you been waiting?” you asked.

“An hour.” he said, his voice hoarse.

You took off his blindfold and was met with the most mischievous eyes. He looked you up and down, his cock twitching right as he got to the sneakers on his carpet. You had been in the room before, so all of the sex toys and contraptions lining the walls didn’t bother you. People liked to play, and in your line of work, you would do whatever they wanted for the right amount.

His name was Ten. He was your age, but there was something about him that felt older than your years. His eyes were that of an old soul, his body young and supple. You scraped your fingernails against his chest and watched him close his eyes and quiver.

“Should I leave you here for another?” you asked.

He shook his head. “I need you to hold me.”

Ten was one of your favorites. It wasn’t so much about the sex but the companionship. Sure, there were things he did and wanted you to do to him that were a bit different, but your attachment to him was hard to explain.

“Before I hold you,” you began. “I need to know I can’t disappoint you.”

He opened his eyes. “I don’t think you ever could.”

“You put too much faith in me.” you said.

You reached up to unhook him from the ceiling. He whimpered in pain as his arms fell. You massaged his shoulders and brought him against your bosom. Ten’s hair tickled your chin. You were scared to tell him that you forgot his blanket, that it was in your real apartment with the life you hid from Lucas.

You wrapped your arms around Ten and kissed the top of his head. You owed him honesty, so you opened your mouth and told him that you forgot the thing he wanted most from you. Tears welled in his eyes, and for a second, you thought about breaking the arrangement and asking if he wanted his money back, but Ten took your hand and started leading you out into the hallway.

“We can do the comfort blanket next week,” he said. “This week, we’ll do something else.”

Briefly, he showed you the man he was when you weren’t there. He was straightened up and assertive, his eyes more disobedient. It was rare that you were privy to how he was when you weren’t there, but it was always refreshing that somewhere underneath it all, there was something you liked to think of as a friend.

Ten brought you to a room with only a bed in the middle of it. An island of sadness is what you always thought of it. You remembered when you had found him there sprawled on his stomach, his puckered, wet asshole waiting for you to fuck it. You did as he asked, the money too good to turn him down.

Ten waited for you to get on the bed by yourself. Before you did, you made sure no hair was peaking out of your ball cap before you stretched your body across the sheets. Ten climbed in and tucked himself into the side of your body. He moved down so that his cheek was pressed against your stomach.

“Tell me you love me,” he said. “And that you’ll never leave me.”

You let your fingers smooth his hair. “I love you, Kitten, and I’m never going to leave you.”

You fell asleep on the car ride home, the sound of thunder waking you up just a stop away from Lucas’ apartment. You groaned because, for once, your sleep was dreamless. It was too good of a thing to wake up from.

“Drop me off at the corner,” you said. “I don’t want anyone to see me.”

You had ditched the clothes at Ten’s place and changed back into your pantsuit, but you had hat head and felt like your body had been run over by a truck. You cuddled with Ten for six hours in the same position, your body aching more than his was when he was chained up. You cracked your neck and got ready to jump out of the car as soon as it stopped, just in case someone in the neighborhood was nosy enough to tell Lucas.

“Thank you.” you said for the second time that day.

“See you next week.”

“Yeah.” you sighed.

You got out and walked the last block to his apartment. The duffel was in your hands, but it was empty. If Lucas asked, it was once full of office supplies the company let you borrow that you needed to return. He would buy into the lie.

You let yourself into the darkness, removed your shoes like you were a zombie, and thought about collapsing right on the floor. It wasn’t even that late, but there was something about being deceiving that sucked the life out of you. Deciding against it, you walked your way to the bedroom and flipped on the light.

After you usually left Ten’s, you felt too soft to the touch. Some nights, you cried the whole car ride, missing something you didn’t know what you were missing. Often, you would climb into Lucas’ arms and make the most passionate love to him. You just needed to be near him, to make sure it was him who would never leave you.

Everything looked the same as you had left it, only Lucas’ gym clothes were on the floor and one of his drawers was half hanging open. You went over to it and stuffed his shirts down so it would close properly. Your fingers lingered on the soft fabric. You brought his shirt up to your nose and buried your face in it, inhaling deeply. When you went to put it back, your hand knocked into a small jewelry box.

Uh-oh.

You took the box out and opened it. A diamond ring sat nestled in black velvet, the name of the jewelry shop printed in silver script on the lid. Feeling dizzy, you snapped the lid shut and shoved it back where it was.

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starkerforlife6969 · 4 years ago

Text

Starker - Gone

tw angst, mentions of drinking- but a happy ending.

It’s done.

It’s finished.

Tony realises it a little suddenly. Feels cold and hollow all over. Riddled.

Dusk has just gone, and the fresh darkness seeps in through the windows. The penthouse is empty. It’s just him and his perfect furniture and his state of the art, pioneering technology.

Peter’s gone.

Of course, he’s been gone for months now. Shuffled out, head held irritatingly high, face drawn tight, stuff in boxes, and stayed with his aunt.

Whatever, Tony thinks bitterly, the kid’s 300 million dollars better off, he’ll buy a nice beach house somewhere and Tony will never see him again.

Mr. Wobbles, the fucking awful cat, is gone too. He was Peter’s Tony had realised, even as he’d argued for it over the glass table.

“Yours!” Peter had screeched, making the lawyers on both sides wince. Making Tony smirk victoriously, finally, at having gotten a reaction. “I adopted him, Tony. Me. My name is on all the papers, you- you hate him! You never feed him, or play with him, or give him treats, Mr Wobbles is mine!”

“Tony,” Peggy Carter, his (very expensive) lawyer, had touched his arm and said quietly, “it’s a cat. Do you really want the responsibility?”

Tony had slunk back into the leather seat. Shrugged and looked away like he didn’t care if the cat lived or died.

He does care, is the thing.

He looks over to the kitchen, down by the side of the fridge, where the ceramic blue food bowl used to lie.

It’s bare now.

He remembers, as he loosens his tie, takes off his armour, how Peter had looked the first time with the kitten in his arms. Brown eyes glistening and lips so pink and stained with the strawberries from breakfast.

“Tony! Please, I promise, I’ll take care of him-”

“Sweetheart,” Tony had chuckled, dragging Peter in for a kiss, “it’s your home too. Have the little monster. You don’t need permission. It’s yours.” Peter had beamed, lifted Mr Wobbles up close to Tony’s face (the creature had tried to blind him) and said “He’s ours.”

Even now, the thought makes him smile. Crooked. Sad.

Hollow, again.

That’s how the penthouse feels.

Pepper’s done an excellent job. He hadn’t seen the pieces of Peter disappear one by one, he just left for one of the divorce hearings one morning, came back one afternoon, and it was as if Peter had never been there.

Gone are the pairs of beaten converse, even though Tony had bought him suede shoes, gone are the hoodies next to blazers on the coat hook. Gone are the fruits and vegetables for those disgusting smoothies he’d always insist Tony drink. Gone is the sugary cereal because the boy’s a walking paradox and gone is-

Peter.

Tony swallows hard. There’s a lump in his throat. The first tickle of grief in this whole, drawn out process.

Peter’s gone.

Mr Wobbles is gone.

***

He won’t turn on the lights. Won’t go to the bedroom.

What he does do, because Peter’s not here to give him those huge bambi eyes, is pour himself a glass of scotch.

Then another. Then some bourbon. Bitter. All the good stuff he hasn’t felt the need to touch in two years.

Two years with Peter.

On their second anniversary, he remembers Peter’s face- flushed pink, stammering, eyes darting around to take in every inch of the party. Streamers and friends and cake and a table almost buckling under the weight of the presents.

“Tony,” he’d hiccuped, curling into Tony’s chest, shy and excited, “it’s too much.”

Tony had kissed the top of his curls. Felt pride bursting over the seams. Happy to make Peter happy. He’d felt good. “No such thing, baby,” he’d promised.

He’d lied.

Instead, Tony drinks, toes off his shoes, and reaches for the box that his lawyer gave him.

Peggy’s a great lawyer. Expensive, but the one Pepper insisted on.

“I don’t need a lawyer-”

“Peter could claim 50% of SI, Tony. 50%, do you hear me?”

Peter could have, of course. But he didn’t. Tony knew he wouldn’t. Peter’s not the vindictive type. Even in the midst of heartbreak.

He reaches for the box. It’s full of transcripts of the divorce proceedings, there are memory sticks of the recordings.

It all had to be recorded, for some reason. The most high profile divorce of the century.

Tony winces as he thinks of the tabloids. Half of them smear Peter as a gold-digger, wrong wrong wrong, the other half say Tony was cheating, abusive, desperate to go back to his philandering playboy days. Those are wrong too.

But he guesses, Husband refuses to change doesn’t make that good of a headline.

His laptop glows with harsh brightness as he slides in the memory stick. He sits crossed-legged on the ground, muscles protesting, and he forgoes the glass and drinks from the bottle.

It’s not classy. His mom wouldn’t want-

“10% is too high.” Peggy says efficiently on the video, scanning through the contracts. Tony sits beside her, slouched, comfortable, sunglasses on. Pale blue suit. He looks bored. Like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

The real Tony knows better. Knows that those sunglasses were hiding blood shot eyes, eyes focused on-

Peter. Small. Tired. Straight-back, hands folded, in a crisp white shirt.

“We’re not asking for 10% of total assets,” Coulson says softly. “But Mr Parker has made significant contributions to the biochemistry division of SI and as such he is entitled to 3% of the division and a 2% shareholder stake in the company. His marriage to Tony justifies the other 5%.” Coulson looks up from the paper and at Peggy. His voice is gentle: “We’re within our right to go to 50%. We’re asking for 10%. 3% biochemistry, 7% of SI.”

Peggy meets Coulon’s eyes. She sighs. “7% total. 3% Biochemistry, 4% of SI.”

Coulson turns to look at Peter, who murmurs something. Coulson looks like he wants to argue further, but he doesn’t.

“Agreed.” He says.

Both lawyers write. Then they move on to the next thing.

Tony thinks about Coulson. Looks at him on the video. When Pepper had said she’d secured Peggy Carter, he’d nodded, then blinked.

“What about Phil?” He’d asked.

Pepper had kept her face carefully neutral. “He’s Peter’s lawyer.”

“Oh.” Tony had said.

He’d thought Phil was his friend. They’d known each other for years, after all, and then he chastises himself. Phil and Peter had become fast friends. Manning the barbecue out on the deck, laughing, fangirling over Captain America.

“Tony,” Phil had said, coming up to him at the end of it all. “Are you- are we, okay?”

“Yeah.” Tony had nodded. He didn’t have it in him to have another enemy. “I get it. He asked you first.”

“No, Tony.” Phil frowned, shaking his head. “He needed me more.”

What did that mean?

Tony thinks now, swirling the remnants of the bottle, watching the lawyers go back and forth and him and Peter not saying a word.

Why did Peter need Coulson? The divorce was Peter’s idea. Kid should’ve been happy.

The Peter on the screen turns to look out of the window. It’s raining. He’s framed with silver light.

He doesn’t look happy.

Tony tries to think harder. Mind whirring. Tries to think of things he’s long ignored.

Of the fighting.

Of Peter’s pinched face.

He thinks, with more shame, about the times he raised his voice. How he yelled. When Peter would try to pull him out of calculations, try to coax him into eating, try to talk him down from the edge of self-destruction. Tony remembers lashing out.

“You want me to give up being Iron Man? You’re out of your mind, Peter. You’re trying to change me.”

“I’m trying to save you-”

“It’s who I am!” Tony had roared, so loudly that Peter had jerked backwards: afraid. “You’re trying to get me to abandon who I am. Well, I won’t change that way. That’s me, baby, you either take it or leave it.”

He’d been so angry. So scared. At the thought of the red and gold being put to rest.

He’s Iron Man.

“Tony.” Peter had sniffled. “I love you so much. I...I don’t want you to get hurt, but it’s more than that. You’re older now. Sam is taking over from Steve, and...and I don’t think anyone would mind, people know how much you’ve done for us all, if you wanted to retire. There are other people to be heroes now, you can-”

“Peter.” Tony had whispered, hugging him. “I promise. I won’t get hurt.”

He’d been right. But it had been a band aid on a leaking roof.

He didn’t get hurt. He saved the day. Again and again and again and again.

And each time he was gone, Peter would be pelted with rain until he gave all together.

“I want a divorce.”

Cool glass table. Thick fountain pens. Lawyers. Mr Wobbles.

Divorce of the Century - Tony and Peter call it quits. Insider reveals all.

Iron Man = Iron Heart?

Caught in the Act : A Gold Digger’s Story.

Tony Stark: Playboy Extraordinaire.

***

The sun trickles in the next morning.

Tony has a hangover.

His laptop is still playing the footage.

He opens his eyes to Peter’s face, lit with gold, he hears Peggy agree to 300 million.

Peter should smile.

He just looks sad.

Tony reaches for his phone.

It rings 8 times. Tony can picture the man on the other end. Watching it ring. Watching his name. Debating.

He answers.

“Tony.”

“He never stopped loving me.”

“I know.” Steve says quietly, huffing air into the phone, “We all know.”

Tony’s pride has saved him. It also makes him blind.

Steve comes over. Awkward, a little hesitant.

Steve is another thing Peter won in the divorce. If anyone won. If anything can be won.

Peter got Mr Wobbles. Got Steve. Got Bucky, by extension. Got Sam.

Tony got Nat and Clint.

Bruce and Thor refused to pick sides.

But Steve’s here and Tony thinks brokenly maybe all isn’t lost

“He wants me to give up being Iron Man.” Tony croaks, as Steve casts his righteous blue gaze over the penthouse. Over the box of transcripts. Over the empty bottles. Over Tony. Over the video of Peter and Coulson and the end of love.

Steve nods. “You don’t want to give up Iron Man?”

Tony nods his head. Shakes it. Shrugs. Doesn’t know.

Steve presses his lips together. “Tony, Peter can’t breathe properly when you’re Iron Man. He can’t focus. Can’t function. He’s so scared for you. If you can’t function when you’re not Iron Man, this separation is for the best.”

It’s so cruel. Too honest and brutal to hear.

“But we love each other.” Tony insists.

Steve looks sad. “Sometimes that isn’t enough.”

Tony doesn’t go to shareholder meetings.

But it’s three days later. He can’t sleep in their bed. Keeps thinking he hears Peter’s laugh or Mr Wobbles’ plaintive meow.

So when he sees Peter on the list. When he realises Peter might come. Could come. Might be there, within touching distance-

He puts on his best three piece suit. A dark tie. Gets his hair done.

He walks in, and fake-smiles at a few, blustering old men happy to see him.

In the long, oak boardroom, he sees Peter.

He looks young. Really young for the room. 25. In a pinstripe suit that looks- tailored. Good. Good for him.

And on his hand is-is-

It’s his wedding ring.

As soon as Peter looks up, he meets Tony’s eyes, and then honey-brown dart down to his finger, and they jerk under the table.

Tony can’t move.

Peter’s wearing it. Still wearing it. Why- what does-

His own is back in the penthouse. Set next to the photograph of his mother. Another sign of failure.

But maybe- maybe not yet. Maybe it isn’t over till the opera lady sings.

He spends the whole meeting watching Peter, and he isn’t subtle about it either. The other shareholders clear their throats awkwardly.

Peter lets him look. Open and graceful. He lets Tony drink his fill.

It’s never been difficult to look at Peter, after all. He’s stupidly beautiful. Big eyes, long lashes, and that jaw-

Pepper kicks him under the table. Tony barely feels it.

He keeps looking. Keeps drinking. Peter’s skin, soft, freckled, the bow of his lips, how he smiles, so wide he might burst.

He waits till the end of the meeting. Everyone files out very quickly- bar Pepper who lingers, before sighing.

Then it’s just him and Peter.

He watches Peter steel himself. Take a breath. Fix the armour in place that Tony found so frustrating during the divorce. The armour that hides Peter away. Behind an expressionless face and a blank, polite smile.

Gone, is the open boy.

Peter’s preparing himself for battle and-

Peter needed me more. Coulson had said.

Tony remembers asking Peter to join the Biochemistry division. He remembers asking Peter to move in. He remembers the late nights of equations. The way the tower would pull his iron man suit off him and Peter would be there, curled up, waiting.

He thinks. He thinks about Peter’s Oscorp Industries offer to head their Bio-tech division- rejected. For Tony.

He thinks of Peter’s dream to live in the sprawling country, away from the city.

He thinks of how Peter loves late night walks, hand in hand, staring at the twinkling lights of buildings.

He thinks of how Peter told him he was scared that Tony would get hurt.

There’s something about change. All the things Peter’s given him. Given and given and given until there was nothing left to give.

Tony hasn’t changed. He’s softer, more loving, but that’s because- of Peter.

All Peter’s ever asked of him, ever truly asked of him, was to retire.

Tony licks his lips- his tongue’s so dry- and he whispers: “It’s who I am, Pete. I’m sorry.”

Peter closes his eyes for a long, long moment.

Then he opens them, and smiles sadly. “I know, Tony.” He whispers, fragile, “I know. If there were any other way- you’re the smartest man in the world. You’d have figured it out. I think this…” he gestures between them helplessly. “I think maybe this is the only way. I’m sorry too.”

Then he twists the ring off his finger and Tony stops him.

“Keep it,” he begs, “please.”

Peter nods, tears slipping down his cheeks, and he hurries away.

Tony stands there, chest clenching- in more agony than he’s ever been. His jaws ache. He wants to scream. To disappear.

He goes home.

He’s aggressively stripping wires and thinking. Thinking. Thinking.

He’s picturing life in five years.

Picturing waking up with even more aches and pains than he has now. Of stepping down, of giving the suit to a plucky MIT graduate who Tony can mentor.

He imagines getting in his car, driving to the outskirts of New York, the rich, sprawling greenery.

Of finding Peter’s home. Gorgeous. Stately. Framed with foxgloves.

He imagines walking up the steps, knocking on the door and there’s Peter.

Even more handsome. Relaxed. Happy. He’ll smile, Tony will get down on his knees, beg for him back and Peter-

Peter will look heart-broken.

“Tony,” he’ll say, “I didn’t spend five years waiting for you. Hoping you’d come to your senses. I didn’t put my life on pause for you. And you should never have expected me to. I moved on.”

And then someone else will say, “Petey, who’s at the door?”

And he’ll come out. Peter’s husband. He’ll be handsome and young and everything Peter deserves.

Tony has to set down his tools because his hands are trembling with anger over Peter’s non-existent future husband.

Is that what he’s expecting? Is he expecting Peter to wait? To wait until Tony’s done with being Iron Man? To put his life on hold indefinitely until Tony-

It makes him sick.

He won’t do that. Not to Peter, not ever.

Online, a tabloid article: Iron Man = Iron Heart catches his eye.

They’re trying to say he has a heart of stone, but what he thinks is-

Iron Heart is a good superhero name.

Riri is wickedly clever.

She has wide eyes when he arrives at her dorm. She recognises him, clearly. But she quickly starts talking over him, shows him the prototype suit she’s designed.

He’s already seen it in videos.

“This what you wanna do?” He says, eyes catching a photo of her and a girl kissing on the wall. “You wanna be a superhero?”

“More than anything.” She says, getting to her feet, 21 years old and ready to take on the world.

“I used to want it more than anything too.” Tony nods, and he feels warm. “I want something else more now.”

She cocks her head. Trying to gauge him.

He tries to go for casual. “My hus- ex-husba- my Peter- he’s great with bio-tech. Do you- he could help- upgrade- I-”

“Mr Stark,” Riri says, pulling up her socks, folding herself onto her desk chair. “What’s the point in saving the world if you never get to live in it? Life is finite.”

“You’re a good kid.” He manages. “We might make a hero of you yet.”

She grins.

He thinks she’ll be a forced to be reckoned with.

It’s not a beach house. Or a stately home in the expensive part of New York, it’s a townhouse in Brooklyn.

Beautiful, large, homey. Tony rings on the doorbell, fiddles with his collar, wonders if he should have brought flowers-

The door opens. Tony imagines it’ll be May, or maybe a Butler, or maybe a boyfriend-

It’s Peter. He’s in pyjamas. Old ones. Tony recognises them. Mr Wobbles is curled around his feet. He shivers in the cold air.

Tony opens his mouth but doesn’t know what to say. Peter looks up at him, half hidden behind the door, the one eye Tony can see is wide and amazed. Like he maybe didn’t think Tony would come back.

“I love you, Peter Stark.” He says, remembering how Peter’s fingers had shaken when they’d signed the final papers. “And I’d do anything for you. I found a- girl. She’s great, you’ll meet her, Iron Heart, I thought, just toying around, she’ll need help. A mentor, maybe. Dead parents, always seems to be the case. But I thought maybe you and me- we could, help- guide her, I don’t-”

Peter edges out a little more. Mr Wobbles shuffles back into the warmth.

“I thought-” Peter bites his lip. “I thought Iron Man was a part of you?”

“You’re a part of me, Peter.” Tony insists. He laughs. “I’m old. Stupid. Even Cap’n Ice realised what I’ve been trying to ignore...the world doesn’t need me anymore.”

Peter reaches out, takes Tony’s hand. “I need you.” He confesses quietly, smiling.

“And you are my world.” Tony realises aloud, tingling with glee.

***

Iron Man Retires.

Stark and Parker ReUnited.

Iron Heart Makes Debut

Three Times the Starks made us Swoon

Tony Stark to celebrate 10th Wedding Anniversary.

***

He wakes up years later.

He trips over Peter’s shoes. Mr Wobbles pounces on his vulnerable toes as he walks past the bed.

He walks past one of the guest bedrooms: can hear Riri snoring.

He walks down into the lab. It glows with blue light, and there, hunched over the Iron Heart suit is Peter. He’s methodically working out all the damage it took on Riri’s latest stint. The fright she’d given them both- falling into that lake-

He looks like Tony, Tony realises. Of course his husband does, the narcissist that he is.

“Hey Pete,” Tony murmurs, rubbing his eyes, coming closer and kissing Peter on the head. “It’s late.”

“Is it?” Peter hums around a yawn, “I was just finishing up…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony chuckles, “I’ve heard that one before. Used it a few times."

Peter grins at that; tired, happy. “I guess maybe you need to tire me out,” he says wickedly, spinning in the chair, legs spreading further apart.

“Mm,” Tony murmurs, leaning down, kissing him. “Extra large pizza?”

“Cheese in the crust.” Peter nods, and they kiss again. And again.

And again.

#starker #peter x tony #angst #happy ending #fluff #divorce #make up break up #break up make up #age difference #marriage au #iron heart #tony stark #soft tony stark #precious peter parker

540 notes · View notes

vannyvancan · 3 years ago

Text

"mr assassin" Roommate!Shinsou Hitoshi X F!Reader Part 2

Part 2 of your Roommate/Assassin!Shinsou is here! First of all I wanna thank y'all for liking the first part so much! In this part we go deeper in darker theme of it, so just a fair warning.

my masterlist. Hope you have a great day and happy reading!

Tw for : Assassin!Shinsou theme, female reader, gun usage, slight insecurity, NSFW for the most part on the later chapters, drug usage, corrupt government talk, harrasment

Day five of living with your new roommate. He hadn't shown much of an interest in harming you...

That was swell.

You huffed out a breath of relaxation when the realization hit, but not also that, things weren't as bad as you expected! The thought you'd get a nasty roommate who would leave much more bigger mess than you was on the mind... but he seems to be the one who cleans as well? A welcome surprise indeed.

Shinsou was an enigma, waking up early at five am, neatly sorting his clothing and coming back late at 11 pm, he didn't seem restless, which could only mean he probably has a second accommodation where he rests and eats as well. It also explains why he only had one bag with him which you had decency and never saw what was inside. Besides...

He had given you a glare yesterday when you stared at it for long with those white pupils of his.

Even though he was soft spoken, he always managed to find a way to poke fun at you before he left. Granted, you were quiet surprised when he made you a french toast every morning! He barely knows you, but you were grateful to have found a roommate that in one way or another showed his gratitude. Afterwards, you felt obligation to one up him and return the favour. Now dragging your dear friend out, you giggled at the phone text from Uraraka as she immediately started spewing jokes about your potential 'future' with him.

„What an idiot.“ You grinned to yourself, walking down the street to the meeting place, you were about to go shopping with her, you still had to supply yourself with comfortable winter clothing.

„Y/N!“ Uraraka's voice reached your ears.

„Hey! Long time no see!“

„Very long time indeed!“

Uraraka rushed her step to give you the biggest hug there was. She was the sweetest friend and was always there for you no matter the circumstances. Now both of you dragging yourselves in the clothing store

„You just got off from work right? How was it?“ She asked, looking at time, it was now 5 pm.

„Tiring, its even worse because they fired colleagues before summer so now all of us have extra hour of work.“

„Oh no. But at least you will be rewarded more no? More hours equal more pay.“

„Nope, it's the same job in the end, they just extended work time.“ Frowning at the work contract on the mind, it was a very high chance it will drastically change soon as well.

„It's very... bad.“ You nervously laughed as you walked together.

„One time they fired someone from storage, only to replace them with boss's relative. By law its forbidden, but they made up a name for the new position that does the same job in storage. So it seems valid, but its not.“

„Ah... it happened here as well, but uhm.“ Uraraka started

„Hmm?“

„There's been some disappearances from our parent company, we are having a bit of a rescheduling on our own as well.“ Uraraka nervously chuckled and scratched the back of her head, it was quiet obvious there's been some action going on on her end as well.

„But enough about that, how's Shinsou~?“ She teasingly leaned in and poked her pink cheek.

Your mind shifted to the now roommate, the intimidating figure had you stuttering for a second. Obviously, Uraraka shouldn't of hung out with Mina so often back in college days, because it was so obvious she wanted to pull out some flustering on your end as well. Her curiosity especially hit the peak since she heard your voice hit higher notes when talking about him.

„I-I.. U-um. Okay, fuck! I can't!“ Both of the palms now covered your face to hide the embarrassment.

„Ahah! Is he that hot? You didn't react like that for so long!“

„Shut up!“ You huff out „It's enough that he made a toast for me yesterday, now I don't know how to return the favor. I want to get close to him, but he's unapproachable.“

The brunette put a finger on her lower lip in deep thought.

„Maybe if he's so busy, you can make him little lunches in a box, since he's so busy.“

„Uraraka, that's so childish.“

„It's not! You have to show him your soft side! Poke around, maybe he likes it.“

„My soft side?“

Grimacing as she advised, you were afraid of getting your feelings hurt. Now hesitantly picking up shirts and pants from the shopping stand, you managed to pick decent clothing for the upcoming winter before the prices skyrocket, it was expensive already but you managed to find something cheap. Your eyes trailed to find a plain white scarf, it was really nice quality, and rather cheap, but the sudden thoughts redirected to Shinsou as fingers tried out the material.

Maybe its not a bad idea to try and open up, you'll try but there should be equal effort on his end as well. Now snatching the scarf from the stand, you both bought your things and left the store, suddenly being nudged on the shoulder by the pink cheeked individual, you let out a relieved laughter while walking home for today.

...

„No, no! Please, Spare me!“

„I'm afraid job's a job.“

„No, please! My wife-!“

-SNAP-

„... Operation successful, returning to the main area. Prepare for body disposal.“

„Roger that Mindjack.“

On the broad daylight, Shinsou had eliminated yet another target for today, this time it was a business man whose life spiraled down in gambling addiction, the man who had hired him said he owned too much and knew too much to be kept alive.

Drugs and gambling went hand in hand, it was no different that the client probably had some shady stuff going on on their end as well. Shinsou had to keep his eye open on this one as well.

„Dispatched him quickly?“ Shoto came by side to Shinsou while adjusting dark gloves on.

„Yeah.“

„Good. Let me help you up.“

Several moments later, a truck came by to pick the dead body up, Kirishima's disguise as a trash driver made both of them cringe for a moment, but quickly brushed it off as Shoto and Shinsou threw it away. The cleanup crew should get rid of their traces now, all he has to do is get away as fast as possible from here. Shoto and Shinsou entered in the truck and drove in silence.

„You blocked the spot quiet nicely Shoto! Made a nice clearing for Shinsou to execute.“ Kirishima praised

„I merely blocked the parking lot. I don't see it being worth a mention.“

„Man, but missions like these always for newbies rely on stalking and timing. And this was perfect.“

„Nothing is perfect in this line of business.“ Shinsou ripped off his gloves and cracked his own neck to relieve tension. „Karma will hit you back hard if you don't know what you are doing.“

„Yeah yeah, it isn't very manly if you're in it just for cash, I mean... I'm rooting for justice and y'all, don't go thinking I am blind to what you guys are doing.“

Shoto and Shinsou fell silent. It was hard to swallow the truth, the car ride to the safe house wasn't long, soon Kirishima hit the brakes and came to a stop to the small abandoned storage house on the outskirts of the city. Shoto jumped out to take care of the body while Shinsou assisted with it, after they were done, Kirishima checked the contract for the job well done and handed the payment. A block of dollar bills now in their hands, the digital transfer of money would raise eyebrows in eyes of banks, so the money transfer was best if it was physical.

„Here you go boys! Boss says that the next contract is gonna be handed out tomorrow, you are free for the rest of the evening.“

„Tomorrow already?“ Shinsou asks.

„Yeah, what did you mean with that question?“

„I was thinking of looking into the client of the previous contract. Do some research and possibly eliminating him.“

Kirishima clicked with his tongue while Shoto huffed out and fiddled with the block of money in his hands.

„Sorry man. Solo contracts wont get you money, and gateways like us wont help you since we put too much at stake. You are on your own if you are gonna kill someone who is off the list.“ Kirishima explained

„Why would you even do it?“ Shoto asked, „Its not like the guy did you anything bad.“

Before Shinsou could answer Kirishima pat his back two times before turning on his heel to store his equipment away and head home himself for today.

„Mindjack has always been like that, even before you started working with. He sorta goes off on his own at times, seeking who needs killin' and who doesn't. That's why we hired you Shoto.“

„Can't blame me for doing what I think its right.“ Shinsou lowered his head, „All I need is time, That's why I was taken aback when a new contract was announced for tomorrow.“

„Alright alright, Mr. Assassin. You'll get your time. Someday. For now, this handsome manly man is going to go home for tonight! I'm going to get myself some hot bath.“

„See you Red. I'll be going too, Goodnight Mindjack.“

The departure was short, Shinsou took his bag and changed clothes before heading back, the bad smell could of easily rub off on him and he didn't want you to start speculating things. Even though he mostly ends his victim's lives in a way where no blood can be shed, it was a close call when she started eyeing the bag yesterday. He hated it, but he had already planned out way's to kill the roommate he was living with for any situation if she found out his true work.

'I don't need any of you to help me in my solo hunt.' He thought to himself, putting his black leather jacket on and helmet, he checked out his surroundings before revving up his bike and driving away.

The evening was busy as people were going back from work, it was 6 pm after all and he was stressing out on the fact that he will have to see his roommate. Maybe he could take a spin? Or start investigating on his own, but he didn't have time, he needed it. Rumbling of the bike eased tension he had from the committed crime, but only barely. As he came to a red light he slowed down and realized he was shaking badly, he knew it was not only from the setting sun and chilling air slowly creeping in, but also of stress. The realization that he might get caught always hit him harder after it settled in his mind. He inhaled deeply and eyed the nearby passengers. His eyes land on a woman in distance he never thought he would run into.

It was you, and you have been on your way to the flat with things you've gotten. The fact you saved up on the flat made you relax and indulge in the little shopping spree with Uraraka and groceries. You smiled from ear to ear nevertheless the tiredness creeping on you from the day.

„Mm...“ You sighed and rolled your shoulders.

„Maybe I'll make the thing she told me.“

You honestly looked like a happy child after realizing now that you have a roommate who pays for half of the expenses, you have extra cash to buy for things and make food at home. It wasn't a big deal to go out and buy something since it was cheap to buy a box of instant meal, but you wanted to cook your own food for a long time now. As you looked in the grocery bag and already beginning to think of the recipe you'd think for it, you suddenly bumped onto a stranger who didn't quiet follow his surroundings either. The harsh impact almost made you fall behind flat on your backside, but you managed to find balance. 'How rude-!' you thought.

„Ah-! S-sorry! I didn't mean to bump into you sir-„

„Watch where you are stepping wench-! I swear, women like you need to fucking know their place and stay at home.“

Excuse me?

Since when did this idiot have any right to find you to get his frustrations out?

You frowned at his sentence, knowing better not to engage with a random incel on the streets at evening hours, whose breath reeked of beer and bad hygiene, you decided to clutch your bags and pass by him hurriedly.

„Don't fucking ignore me!“

„Hey! Let me go!“

The man captures your wrist harshly and doesn't let go, now pulling you towards himself, he makes your belongings and your body stumble forward. His other hand wrap around your waist and starts dragging you along with him. Trying to shake yourself away only resulted in him recapturing you. He started laughing and you only now realize he quiet probably meant to bump into you.

He was trying to kidnap you-

„I said you are a bitch! Now you'll know your place-!“

„Let me go!“

Closing your eyes, the strong grip bruised your wrist and you yelped in pain, Your eyes veiled with tears as his disgusting sweaty hands found their way on your thighs to try and attempt to carry you, but the hold that was on you was suddenly broken free and a strong impact of a punch made the man fall flat on the ground. You were quiet sure you heard something broke as well.

„Agh! Son of a-!“

The adrenaline spiked in your veins and you immediately snapped out of it to see what was going on. Another hand rested on you almost protectively, you raised head to see a dark dressed figure that was very familiar. You were quiet shocked to find Shinsou held you close to his chest, wasn't he supposed to work until very late? You hear his quickened heartbeat and deep breathing as he gazed into the eyes of an attacker. Clutching onto him, you immediately felt more sorry for the drunken individual that had attacked you. Hooded eyes with dark eye bags were visible with blood rush, he stared down at his victim like a prey.

„I honestly can't believe how uncool you are, attacking a woman.“ He tilted his head on the side „Piss off before I do anything worse.“

The drunkard scrambled to his feet, he held onto his nose, groaning in pain inflicted by just his one punch.

„You fucker-! You broke my fucking nose!“

He charged again at Shinsou and you. This time, Shinsou quickly dispatched him by a high kick in his stomach, stealing all the air from his lungs. He hunched over and fell flat face forward, deeming him now unconscious. Your mouth went agape at his form, even though there were no visible passerby's, the drivers could certainly call police and at any moment and both of you would get caught.

„Shinsou!“ You panicked, finally reacting at the scene.

„Come on, lets get the hell out from here. He's bad news.“ He pat your shoulders and helped you scramble the bags that were on the ground.

He led you to climb on his bike that you were quiet hesitant to get on at first, he didn't let you get acquainted as the time was limited and you let out a noise of protest at first.

„We have no time, grab onto me.“ He revved up his bike and it rumbled.

„You just gonna escape like that!?“ You asked „What gives he's not gonna blame it on us? The police-“

„Police is not going to do shit.“ He glared at you „Unless you want to call them right now and deal with this sort of mess on Thursday evening, be my guest.“

You whined again, thinking thoroughly on his words you knew he was right so you followed his orders. If anything Shinsou was a witness if both of you ever end up getting caught. Holding onto the bags in your hand, you decided it was a better option to leave. Now climbing on you adjusted yourself in back of seat, the view in front of you were of his back, now starting to get illuminated by the street lights. He smelled nice, despite it being closed off by the leather jacket, his vibrant purple hair was flattened by the helmet, and you couldn't shake off the thought that you were about to hold him. You let your left hand slip around his stomach while your right one grips his shoulder.

Fuck, he was solid.

The gas made you back up a bit and grip on him tighter as he violently sped forwards to escape the scene. You hid your face in his back and held onto dear life. You weren't acquainted with bike's, most of your life was spent driving in cars and public transport, but you were quiet thankful to have him tell you when to lean on sides as you took turns.

„Just like riding a bicycle“ He claimed.

You relaxed after he talked more about it, there was something about him being calm in this situation made you very thankful. If he hadn't shown up...

Well, you wouldn't like to think about it.

He slowed down and stopped as the lights turned orange, then red, he took this opportunity to check on you. Shinsou leaned back and turned to you.

„You okay?“

„Y-yeah, still a bit shaken up about it. I... think I'll be fine. What about you?“

„I'm good.“ He replied shortly, his curt expression not giving anything else away.

In his mind, there wasn't anything he could do to help, the thought of comforting a victim was very alien to him. He could manage dispatching the person quickly, but he would rather much leave a therapy session to others. There was something about how he emotionally closed off himself that helped him do what he was working for, but it was never in favor when someone needed emotional support, like you right now.

His thought process was interrupted by a white scarf now gently falling around his neck.

„Your facial expression doesn't quiet match your body language Mr. Shinsou. Here, have this, your body is shaking.“

„What is this?“ He asked, tenderly reaching for the soft white fabric and letting the warmth of it settle around his neck.

„Its a scarf... I was planning on giving it to you. You are a good roommate to me.“

His eyes lit up at the realization, his knee was thumping up and down in nervousness from what he had been overthinking about, whats wrong with this woman? Is she going to be the one giving him the therapy session? He better not go soft now. The light turned green and you took a last turn to your place and he parked nearby. Both of you got off and he helped you by giving you a hand and with the bags.

„You didn't have to.“

„That's not true, I had to! I know work's probably putting a lot of strain on you just like mine is, and I know you mean only well, hell, you've been cooking an extra toast just for me.. and now you saved me.“

Both of you came to a stop as you entered the building. You sighed a little bit as words of gratitude escaped you

„And I just want to say.. Thank you."

Wide eyed like a kitten, he seemed so innocent if he didn't act so suspicions all the time. But this time you were so happy on seeing your roommate warming up to you. He was speechless for a solid second, he raised the scarf just a little bit to hide his mouth and nose.

Was he blushing?

"You really think that huh?" He asks, it was a simple question, but it got you stuttering madly and you looked onward, taking big steps as suddenly your flat was the lifeline of a place to be in right now. Shinsou himself didn't want to admit it but looking at you being cheerful after the events set his mind at ease.

"O-of course! A-and don't think that that you are ever a bad person, whoever is telling you bad things at work... They are wrong, because you are actually a really nice person... I think." You said without looking back.

„Now you are just sprouting nonsense.“ He chuckled and followed closely behind.

„Come on! I'm gonna cook us dinner. We are gonna feast.“

#bnha shinsou #bnha shinso hitoshi #shinso hitoshi x reader #shinso hitoshi #shinsou hitoshi #mha shinso x reader #mha shinsou #shinso #shinso x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou #bnha reader insert

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i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend · 4 years ago

Text

Carnival of Hearts (Part 2/6) ~ Bucky x Reader College!AU

A/N: Hi lovelies! Hope you’re all doing well! So good news! I’m pretty sure I’m going to be able to do regular updates for this fic. The plan is for weekly updates on Fridays at 12 PM EST. I will let you know if I can’t do it though. For now enjoy!

This is my entry for @buckysknifecollection ‘s 3k Follower Challenge. Congrats on the milestone lovely! Go check out the blog. Personal fave is Hush (a must read if you’re into soft!Biker!Bucky)

Prompt: Our friends set us up on this carnival date but we’re both pining after someone else and this a bit awkward

Summary: When you’re set up on a carnival date with Bucky Barnes NOTHING turns out the way you expected.

Rating: T

Warnings: Language

Word count: 1916

Story Masterlist | Main Masterlist

After six outfit changes, you were finally satisfied with your appearance. The red wrap shirt was your favorite, your jeans hugged just right, and you were rocking your favorite white converse. The last touch was to clip in a white hair flower just behind your ear before declaring yourself ready.

Steve was on set up duty so he had already been at the fair grounds for hours and Natasha was meant to meet you there after her shift at the coffee shop, so you grabbed your backpack purse and headed out, cautiously optimistic for the day ahead. You paced back and forth a little ways away from the ticket booth as you waited for your friends and your date.

Your phone buzzed in your hand as you checked the time again.

Nat: Coffee shop got slammed last minute. Going to be a while. Sorry. Just go meet Bucky and Wanda.

“Wonderful,” you muttered.

You could go meet Bucky and Wanda if you had either of their numbers. You were about to text Nat and ask her to pass the info along when your phone buzzed twice. One from Steve and one from an unknown number. You opened the latter.

Unknown Number:Hi this is Bucky. Wanda is running late so she said for me to just meet you and Natasha.

You rolled your eyes, but snapped a quick selfie and responded.

Y/n: I'm by the ticket booth. Red shirt and a white flower in my hair. Just me though. Nat’s late too.

Bucky: Be right there!

He responded with a selfie of his own.

"Y/n?"

You turned at the shout of your name. Bucky shot you a shy smile and a small wave, wading through the crowd of people.

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you.” He stuck his hand out.

“Nice to meet you too, Bucky.”

“Sorry, I’m late. I was technically on time, but I was waiting for Wanda.”

“No problem at all.”

He had a kind smile and it eased the knot of tension in your stomach, though an awkward silence stretched between you. It broke when you both laughed.

“I’m sorry. I’ve never been on a blind date before,” you admitted, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth.

“That makes two of us. But,” he continued before the conversation could lapse again. “I have been to a lot of carnivals with friends in my time.”

You clung to the lifeline.

“Well that we have in common. Although-” You crossed your arms over your chest. “I did just meet you so I’m not sure we can be called friends yet.”

Bucky put both hands up to concede the point.

“Well let’s start with the carnival part and we’ll see the friendship comes naturally.”

“I can work with that.”

Bucky bought an armload of tickets and the two of you entered the fairgrounds. Happy screams from the roller coaster mixed with ride music, and you were practically vibrating with excitement.

You grabbed a map from the information booth, smiling at Hope who was manning it.

“Enjoy the carnival!”

“Thank you!”

You huddled out of the way of the hoards of people, carefully surveying the map.

“Now, what I have learned over the years, is that there are two types of people. Ones who plan their carnival route. And chaos entities who cause their friends to miss their favorite rides.”

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I sense some bitterness there.”

Bucky chuckled and shrugged but didn’t elaborate.

“Well, I’m certainly not a chaos entity.”

“Excellent. So where should we start?”

“R.C.F.A.”

“Excuse me.”

“Roller coasters first always.”

“A girl after my own heart. Any rides that are a hard no?”

“Not a one,” you announced proudly. “But don’t let me eat before any spinny ones.”

“Noted. Okay, then.”

Bucky scanned the fairgrounds trying to track the flow of the crowd.

“It looks like the tilt-a-whirl has the shortest line.”

“Ooh and it’s right next to the two best coasters,” you pointed to the cluster of rides on the map.

“Then we’ll start there. And then we can follow the circuit back to the food area for lunch.”

“Sounds good. Let’s go!”

Unable to contain your excitement any longer you grabbed his hand and dragged a laughing Bucky through the crowds.

“So what happened to Nat?” he asked as you waited behind a group of middle schoolers.

"Stuck at work. Cafe got slammed last minute. Wanda?"

"She was getting a haircut and they were running an hour late.”

You poked your tongue into your cheek. Bucky voiced what you had been thinking.

“Do you smell a setup?"

You let out the laugh you’d been holding back. "Oh yeah. I mean technically both of those are real things that could happen, but…”

“Yeah, it seems a bit suspicious.”

“I should have known Nat would weasel out of her end of the bargain."

"Bargain?" Bucky asked.

You inhaled through your teeth and offered him an apologetic smile.

"It may have taken a bit of convincing to get me to go on this date."

“What were the terms of this deal?”

You counted them on your fingers.

“We would meet as a group. I had a guaranteed out at lunch time. And she wouldn’t set me up for the rest of the semester. It wasn’t anything against you. I promise,” you explained.

He waved off your concern.

“Trust me I took a similar deal. But you were smarter than I am. I should have gotten the no meddling clause in there.”

You exhaled a laugh, relieved you hadn’t offended him.

“Well now you know for next time.”

“True. Though based on how Wanda talked about you there won’t be a next time because you’re supposedly exactly what I need.”

"Nat gave me the same speech. Think they practiced?”

“Probably,” he snorted. “She says you're perfect for me. So my expectations are high just FYI.”

"That’s fair. Personally, mine are astronomical,” you replied in a haughty tone.

“I guess we’re both in for disappointment then.”

“Not so far at least,” you admitted with a sly smile that he returned as you were strapped into the tilt-a-whirl.

The line for your first roller coaster was longer than you anticipated, but Bucky kept you entertained. He questioned you on your taste in movies and TV shows which led to an in depth debate of the character arcs in Supernatural. In the next line you discussed Bucky’s favorite book which happened to hold a special place in your heart.

When you stopped for snacks -cotton candy for him and watermelon slush for you - you were comfortable enough to tease him.

“So, did you find Insta-stalking me last night helpful in preparing for this date?”

Bucky’s cheeks went red despite his best efforts to appear nonchalant.

“Pfft. I didn’t Insta-stalk you.”

“Oh, so it was a different JBBarnes317 who liked the picture of me moving into my dorm Freshman year.”

“I…” he hung his head, peeking at you through his long hair. “Okay so maybe I did. I tried really hard not to, but I was really nervous and I thought maybe if I knew something about you we could avoid a lot of awkward pauses. Sorry.”

You shook your head and patted his knee.

“Don’t be. I had been arguing with myself all night. And when I saw that you liked my photo I totally caved. It was honestly a relief. Though I’ve got to say that your profile picture on Facebook does not do you justice.”

“Well I only change my profile picture if it’s a leap year.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. You tilted your head with an incredulous laugh.

“I have nothing to say to that. Are you serious? If so, why?”

He snorted at your expression.

“No. I just haven’t spent more than like ten minutes on Facebook since I was seventeen. I don’t even know why I have it any more.”

“That’s fair.”

“Well, since I’ve been exposed. I’ve got to ask. How far did you row yourself in the moving cart?”

“About 500 feet before I hit a bump and nearly pole vaulted myself out of said cart.”

“That was the funniest video I have ever seen. And I’m kind of mad I never thought of it.”

“There’s always move out.”

“I don’t live on campus. So no yellow carts for me when I move out. Just lots and lots of boxes.”

“Bummer. You can always help me move out!” you concluded triumphantly.

“Let’s see how the rest of the date goes before I agree to that,” he laughed. “But maybe.”

You smiled at the implication before returning the conversation at hand.

“Are you in an apartment then?”

“Yeah. It’s a really nice two bedroom about ten minutes from campus.”

“I assume two bedroom means roommate?”

“Yes. Sam. He and I got randomly roomed together sophomore year, but it actually ended up being the best thing to ever happen. He’s my best friend. I can’t imagine living with anyone else. We thought we were going to have to get a third roommate, which would have been a bummer, but luckily we were able to find a place for just us.”

“That sounds ideal. I’m lucky because my scholarship pays for housing, but honestly I would kill to have a full kitchen again.”

“Or you could just ask nicely.” He smirked. “Do you like cooking?”

“No, I am a mediocre cook at best. But I love baking.”

Bucky’s eye glittered.

“Well then you’re definitely invited to use my kitchen.”

“Let me guess. Payment in baked goods?”

“It seems fair.”

“It does. Do you cook a lot.”

“I can manage. But Sam’s an amazing cook. I keep telling him he’s in the wrong career path.”

There was a hint of frustration in his tone.

“What’s he studying?”

“Business. He plans to open and manage restaurants. Says it’s the smarter path. Which like I get it. But man, the look he gets in his eye when he makes a good dish. He just lights up the whole room. I mean he usually does just by being there, but this. It’s pure joy. It makes you excited to try his food. Even if you hate the ingredients. I just don’t want him to lose that. It makes him special.”

“He sounds pretty amazing.”

“He definitely is,” Bucky sighed, before shaking himself slightly. “But he has his flaws. Like, he likes to run. Every morning.”

“I’ve got one like that too. Steve gets up at the crack of dawn every morning. He’s even in the running club.”

“Sam is too.”

“Really? Huh. I wonder if they know each other.”

“They must. There can’t be that many people who willing give up sleep to run.”

“I swear it’s an illness.”

“Agreed. But I do get fresh muffins out of the deal. Steve always brings me my favorite. This summer, we lived together and he’d wake me up after his shower and we’d eat on our little balcony before work and it was perfect.”

“Sam and I eat on the roof sometimes and he always brews the best cup of coffee. He even manages to time it so it’s at the perfect temperature when I get to the kitchen. He may have magic powers.”

“We’re really spoiled aren’t we?”

“I think we are the appropriate amount of spoiled.”

You both laughed as you tossed your trash and continued on your way.

A/n: I hope you enjoyed and I’ll see you next week (hopefully)

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #Carnival of Hearts #College!AU #College!Bucky Barnes #buckysknifecollectionchallenge #challenge fic

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bleedinghearthalstead · 5 years ago

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SWAT!Jay / Upstead AU

A/N: Part 11. Post Bruised Ego. Crossposted on AO3, link on my blog.

They've come to realize that they're missing a lot of kitchen essentials and unless Jay is willing to dive into the tinned cans tucked into the back of one the cabinets, they are definitely in need of a grocery run.

It's been a while since they've been grocery shopping together. Since they're both barely home, their fridge rather resembles one of a bachelor than of a married couple, mostly empty except for condiments and random take-out containers and that old bottle of milk that probably went bad last week. But now that Jay is home with a broken hand, they've come to realize that they're missing a lot of kitchen essentials and unless Jay is willing to dive into the tinned cans tucked into the back of one the cabinets, they are definitely in need of a grocery run.

When Jay suggests that they go to Costco, Hailey raises an eyebrow at him. Jay is usually the get in, get what you need and get out type of shopper, so it really is a testament to how bored he is at home and it's only been a week. She doesn’t want to know what else he’s going to come up with in the next five. Hailey quickly makes a list of what they need – wow, they're apparently out of salt – and they're off to what she knows is going to be a much longer shopping trip than she had planned for.

They've barely stepped foot in the warehouse and Jay has already wandered off towards the electronics on sale, leaving Hailey with their cart. She thinks about calling after her husband, but she just rolls her eyes at him and keeps walking towards the food section in the back. He better not be looking at that 70 inch TV that he was talking about with Will the other night. Hailey methodically goes down every aisle – if they're here already, she might as well make the most of it and find some of those hidden sale items. She remembers going shopping with her mother, one of the few things she and her mother did together – just the two of them since her brothers hated it – and they’d make a fun game out of it, doing a treasure hunt for those elusive limited offers. She’d run ahead of her mother, ducking and jumping, running back and forth the aisles, trying to glimpse the highlighted price signs. Both of them would rejoice every time Hailey found a treasure. She marvels at how fondly she looks back at such a mundane thing as buying groceries.

Half an hour later Hailey finds Jay in the cereal aisle, one-handedly pushing his own cart, already filled with all kinds of things. "Jay!" She walks over to him, her eyes widening at what is in his cart. "What in the world…"

"Oh hey, babe." Jay gives her a blinding smile and throws two large boxes of Cinnamon Toast Crunch into his cart.

She rummages through the items he’s gotten so far and they definitely do not need 1,875 q-tips or 200 trash bags or that tub of 115 dishwasher detergent pacs. And is that a 2 pound tin of peanuts? She spots something blue and silver at the bottom of the cart and she scrunches up her nose in disgust. "Oh God, is that a 24-pack of Red Bull?!"

"Leave it," he laughs and slaps his wife’s hands away.

She sees that he’s also already been to the meat section and got two whole chickens, four racks of ribs and what looks like ten pounds of ground beef. "Who’s gonna eat all of that?"

Jay shrugs and scratches the back of his head. "I thought I’d invite the guys over for a barbeque." And now she knows how bored Jay really is, if he’s willing to cater for eight guys who eat like they’re bottomless pits, with a broken hand no less. Hailey sighs, knowing that this is going to happen whether she wants it or not.

"Alright," she huffs and looks through the rest of his cart – there's burger buns, but there's nary a vegetable in sight, and no, she’s not gonna count the massive glass of pickles. "How about some sides and some other drinks?"

Jay’s brilliant smile is back and he leans down to peck her on the lips. "You’re the best."

In the hopes of speeding things up, Hailey types out a list on her phone and Jay’s phone pings a few seconds later. "You get those things and I’ll get the rest. Meet at checkout in twenty?"

He looks at the items she sent him and nods, checking his watch. "Copy that."

"Oh," Hailey stops him with a grin, "and can you get me some tampons when you get the toilet paper?"

"Orange or green?" Jay sticks out his tongue at her. He knows she tries to catch him off-guard sometimes, but honestly, it's not the first time he got her tampons and it's not like he minds.

She winks at him. "Yellow."

"Yes, ma'am." He'll get her some tampons, she'll see.

On her round to get the last few things on her own list (a.k.a. the things that they were actually planning to buy before they got here), she catches Jay stuffing his face with food samples four times, and every time he waves and yells at her to try this or that with his mouth full. And every time she pushes her cart quickly down the next aisle, shaking her head at his antics.

After she gets everything they needed, she gives him the full twenty minutes and another ten afterwards just browsing through the store before she goes to checkout, but her husband is nowhere to be seen. Hailey tries calling him, but it just keeps ringing until it goes to voicemail. Sighing, she guesses that Jay got lost somewhere in the cheese section, looking for the feta cheese that she put on his list. Waiting for another five minutes, Hailey decides to pay and get a sundae from the food court while she waits for him.

"Babe, over here!" She hears his voice as soon as she’s past the cash registers, surprised that he beat her to the food court. He’s holding a half-eaten hot dog in his right hand and balancing another one on his cast, a soda cup tucked into the crook of his elbow. Jay looks like a food spill waiting to happen, so Hailey hurries towards him, saving the hot dog that is precariously perched on his arm.

The toppings are piled high and there’s extra sauerkraut, just the way she likes it. She smiles up at Jay and thumbs away a drop of ketchup from the corner of his mouth before she stands up on her tiptoes and gives him a quick kiss. "Thanks, babe."

He raises an eyebrow at her when she takes her first bite. "Who said that one’s for you?"

His wife giggles and retorts with a raised eyebrow of her own. "Let’s see you try and take this away from me."

"Oh no," Jay laughs, "I'm only gonna make that mistake once." He finishes the rest of his hot dog in one bite – his cheeks comically bulging as he chews – and washes it down with a couple of big gulps of soda. He takes Hailey’s cart and leads her to where he left his while she eats her hot dog.

"Hey, Raymond," he walks up to an employee, "all good?"

"Yeah, man, your carts are over there." The guy points at two carts (he did say carts, as in plural, Hailey thinks) that are pushed against the wall next to him.

"Thanks, buddy." Jay fistbumps the guy and pushes Hailey’s cart over to the others.

Hailey almost chokes on the bite of hot dog in her mouth. The last time she saw him half an hour ago, he had one cart that was already ridiculously full and he walked out with two? She doesn’t even know how Jay did it. It’s hard enough to push two carts by yourself, but he can’t even hold on to the other one properly with his cast? And how did he even get the stuff in the cart? She forces herself to swallow down the bite and blurts out, "What the fuck?"

A woman with two little kids walking by glares at Hailey and Jay snorts loudly. She doesn’t even notice, still staring at Jay’s two overflowing carts. One of them is definitely the one that she saw him with, only now thirty rolls of toilet paper and about 300 tampons stacked on top. The second one is loaded with three 24-pack trays of beer, three big bottles of bourbon, a six pack of Coke bottles and a gallon of orange juice. And it’s all piled on top of a…

"Is that a mini fridge?!" Hailey's voice goes up an octave. She turns to Jay who looks at her like the cat that ate the canary, big grin and all. Jay bought a mini fridge. Hailey pinches the bridge of her nose, but can't help the laugh that escapes her. She knew one of them was going to buy something they didn't need, but this definitely beats the yoga pants and sports bra that she treated herself to.

"It's actually a stainless steel cooler on wheels," Jay explains proudly. "It's got its own bottle opener and cap catcher."

Laughing out loud, she hands her half-eaten hot dog to Jay who gladly takes it and continues to wolf it down. She pats his good arm. "Honey, you get all of that stuff in the car, I don't care how."

"And what are you gonna do?"

"I’m getting a sundae," she announces and walks off. Behind her she hears Jay roping that poor guy Raymond into helping him with the carts. Then she hears him call after her. "Babe! Get me a strawberry sundae too!" She shakes her head with a smile and gets in line.

#upstead #jay halstead #hailey upton #chicago pd #pure fluff and humor #upstead doing mundane things #bhhfic #swat!jay au

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stayndays · 4 years ago

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𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆'𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐒 & 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃

time to dive into this hellhole of a series once again

if you haven’t read killer king, there are MAJOR spoilers in this post! you have been warned.

So! This was highly requested in the final survey of Killer King: to reveal the other routes if you didn’t choose the Escape Route. To start off, though, I first have to talk about something that was brought up multiple times throughout the voting boxes of Killer King, which is:

“Why is Jisung helping Minho/Is Jisung aware that Minho’s the killer/What is Jisung and Minho’s dynamic?”

Minho and Jisung, to say the least, is probably the most interesting duo in the series. They didn’t met before the party, but rather, at the party before the mansion owner was killed, and quickly formed a strong bond. You could infer that Minho wanted to pull in a party guest that would most likely stay and solve the murder, just so he has a puppet to control if things go haywire. Minho was also inspired by Jisung’s poem, which results in how his killing techniques were put into place.

Because Jisung is kind of naive in this story, he ends up being manipulated by the killer himself, and accidentally becomes Minho’s #1 ally for the entire series. Minho grabbed the key from the mansion owner’s coat, and gave it to Jisung for him to protect, saying something along the lines of “If anybody tries to flee the mansion like a coward, they won’t be able to because you have the key.”

Oh, also, Minho attempted to frame Jisung by leaving the white glove in Jisung’s bag. I’m like.. slowly recovering info from this series because I already forgot most of the plot.. October was a fever dream guys wheeze

But now, this duo leads us to our first route I’ll cover today! The duos all have a certain goal: Hyunin wanted to escape, another group wanted to kill the killer themselves, and another group simply wanted to solve the murder. This duo is different, however, because Minho is literally the killer.

So the route would’ve played out somewhat like this:

You choose to align with Minho and Jisung, regardless of whether you lie or not

When the house fight occurs and everybody is split off into groups, you have the option to stay with Chan, Changbin, and Minho. If you choose this, you would get an additional chapter where you have the decision to come with Minho upstairs, or to stay behind with Chan and Changbin.

If you choose to come with Minho, you would be forced by him to throw a knife at Jeongin, who’s alone on the stairs. (this would’ve been REALLY fun to write)

Even if you chose not to follow Minho, as long as you prove that you’re truly loyal to him, he’ll eventually reveal to both you and Jisung that he’s the killer, and urge the both of you to work with him to eliminate the rest of the house members.

THIS IS THE FUN PART

Basically: Jisung doesn’t want to team up with Minho. Instead, he wants to try and kill Minho (I assume that Jisung has multiple reasons as to why he doesn’t want to tell the other members, probably because he has no evidence). As a result, since Jisung also trusts you, he tells you his plan, and now you have to choose between the two.

And according to my notes, no matter if you team up with Jisung or go solo, if you choose to betray Minho, you will die. It is impossible to succeed in this scenario. You have to team up with a murderer in order to win.

You could also try and convince Jisung to come with you and Minho’s side. Knowing me, I’d probably spin a wheel to see whether Jisung would agree with you or not LOL. If he doesn’t though, he’s gonna die. That’s that.

So if you team up with Minho (regardless if Jisung is still alive or not) and the two/three of you are able to successfully eliminate the rest of the members, you win! And you get the ending “The Killer’s Sidekick” (even better: if you identity as a female and/or use she/her pronouns, you could be “The Killer Queen” :D)

The other two routes don’t have nearly as much info as Minsung’s route, though. One of them wasn’t even planned at all. Let’s talk about them!

Changlix’s Route: Kill the Killer

Basically, if you openly state to either Felix or Changbin that you’re also interested in killing the killer, you’d be put into this route!

In this route, you’ll tend to make more impulsive decisions without thinking straight (aka your choices will be pretty dumb) because you’re after blood, not justice.

If you kill the wrong person, that’s an automatic game over.

If you hesitate to kill Minho, he’ll kill you first, and that’s a game over.

And if you successfully kill Minho, you’ll get one of those “You won.. but at what cost?” endings, kinda like the ending you guys got! (it’s because you killed somebody, that’s why.)

Chanmin’s Route: Catch the Killer

I have nothing written down for this route. It’s pretty self explanatory. Find the killer, and trap him in a room until the police come. That’s pretty much the route, along with trying not to get killed yourself.

If you chose this route, it would probably be even more stressful than the escape route, and would probably be the most boring route to write.

If you have any questions, let me know! But now let’s dive into the questions you guys put in for the survey.

1. Was Hyunjin super suspicious in the beginning as a red herring?

I think they were all super suspicious in the beginning just so the reader jumps into the story completely blind. It wasn’t intended as a red herring, but it definitely could be to you!

2. Why does Felix and Changbin want to kill the murderer?

Simple: bloodlust. I just needed that violent duo, y’know?

3. Were Jisung and Minho conspiring together? If not, was Minho going to pin it on Jisung?

No and yes, that was his intention!

4. Why does Minho have a hankering for murder?

He wants revenge on his step father, the mansion owner, for neglecting him all those years. Also the dude has anger issues. Bad temper.

5. Why could Minho pass the mattress but not 5 guys?

He is immortal. He is god. He is- just kidding. He was probably doing something stupid and unplanned, like using the bathroom on the downstairs floor. That’s the best answer I can give you for now.

6. Why did Jisung decided to team up with Minho? I mean what benefit will he get from it if there is a chance Minho might even kill him too? and also did Jisung know that Minho is the killer king in the first place?

He didn’t realize he was teaming up with the killer, and if Minho did reveal that he was the killer, Jisung would most likely try to turn on him (and fail). Nope!

7. What was Minho's motive (was it just him hating the victim or was there something deeper)?

Both that, and probably bloodlust as well.

8. How did Minho get the white glove to blame Jisung later when he wasn't with us while we were searching the room?

He bought a fresh pair of white gloves before the party started. He also, most likely, placed it in Jisung’s bag before committing the murder without him noticing.

9. If we were to just body search everybody at once, would we find the throwing knives on Minho and just end the whole thing? (this was on my mind the whole time lmao, like why didn't we search OURSELVES too??)

yeah true ngl i can’t argue with that Knowing Minho, he probably has a bunch of knives hidden all around the house, secretly planting them here and there while mingling with party guests.

10. Were really 2 killer kings?

Nope! Only Minho. There would only be more than one killer king if you ended up choosing the Minsung route. However, good idea! I should’ve thought of that.

11. Why in the hell was jisung helping minho like how did they end up as a team?

e x p l a i n e d a l r e a d y. see i told you guys a lot of people were asking this

12. I still don't understand changbins fascination with the blood type.

This was an easter egg I was proud of but nobody caught!! The same blood type mentioned by Changbin (I think it was A?) is the same type Seungmin has! After a google search or two, I learned that blood types were passed down by family members, so if you arrange Seungmin’s family tree correctly, you’d learn that him and the mansion owner shared the same blood type, meaning that Seungmin is related to the mansion owner. Far stretch, I know, but I think it works out! If you figured this out, you would realize how smart Changbin really is as a scientist.

13. Why did jeongin light two matches?

Extra precaution! Also, he’s the youngest. He thinks fire is cool.

14. Was Minsung a team for the ~ Minsung Vibes? ~

It was not intentional at first, but then I realized the rest of the duos were popular ships in SKZ (minus Chanmin) so that was interesting!

15. Just in general why were the teams aligned the way they were?

Minsung - They’re good pals Changlix - For the bloodlust similarity Hyunin - They were both emotional enough in this story to want to escape Chanmin - It’s literally Chan and Seungmin, and Seungmin is close with the mansion owner

16. Which one was your favorite route?

MINSUNG’S ROUTE!! I wanted you guys to choose this one because it would so different from other murder mysteries!! But the escape route was my second choice, thank god.

17. Will you be doing another series similar to this next year?

90% no because of how physically and mentally draining this series was to write, but you can get a sequel if the finale somehow gets 50 notes! That won’t happen for a while. Just FYI.

18. Did the knife in y/n’s hand ever come out or was it just stuck in there the entire time?

It was there the entire time until Hyunjin pulled it out at his house. I actually still don’t know if this is medically accurate or not, I literally had to ask my mom what to do in this situation. Our text messages went something like:

Me: If a knife goes through your hand, should you pull it out or leave it in? Asking because of a TV show Mom: Leave it in and go to the hospital... Me: Ok thanks mom

I think that’s it? I still have a lot I want to talk about, but that information will only come out if people ask me! So come ask me hehe have fun. Thank you, so incredibly much, for following Killer King. It is my pride and joy, literally.

taglist: @desertofdessert @crscendoforsung @cotccotc @leggomylino @skzctnightnight @freckledberries @nizhonimoon @hanniiesuckle17 @binniesbabybear @tsuki-moons @lbxgsunshine @csbverse @mangoisawesome @peachyhan @worldtriiiip @golden–rain @bubblyjisunq @kimpchi @loey-letters @pokyloky @wherevermyway @avrea-tt @bossuns @sunoo-luvs @katherineee19 @ph0ebevix @qt-k1mb @444scb @grandmasterslickfox @k-pop-valda (now we can all abandon this series for good!)

#stray kids killer king #stray kids #skz #stray kids killer king spoilers

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ghosttotheparty · 4 years ago

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while the world ends around us (make believe with me)

2. I just wanna go where I can get some space AO3

Lucas doesn't know what to do with himself.

He still hasn’t worked up the energy or motivation to unpack beyond what he needs, even after weeks of being in Antwerp. He’s barely even worked up the motivation to get out of bed.

He’s barely left the apartment, even after his two-week quarantine mostly in his room (during which he unpacked a few shirts and the white comforter that’s strewn across his mattress, which lies on the floor next to a window), despite his father’s demands that he get groceries. That was their first fight after Lucas moved in. Words had been thrown around the room. Lucas wishes he had thrown other things too. Anything that might just convince his father to send him back to Utrecht. Maybe some plates. Glass. But he figures that would probably just get his father’s belt lashed at him.

When his father finally surrendered to letting Lucas stay home, he told him to unpack. And then told him that he isn’t allowed to put anything on the walls. Not even with tape.

So Lucas has boxes and boxes filled with things he can do nothing with but look at. Photos he’d printed before moving specifically to put on his walls, that he now just thumbs through longingly, gazing at Kes and Jayden and Isa and Liv. He even has photos of Noah, whom he’d gotten closer to in the days before the move. Noah had given him a goodbye gift of a set of pencils accompanied with a wink and a hug later on that night. He’d told Lucas that he’d caught him doodling on a napkin at a get-together a few weeks before.

“You’re pretty good,” Noah had told him. “You could do it seriously.”

“I do,” Lucas had responded. “I just don’t show anyone.”

“Well maybe if you show more people, more people will get you new supplies.”

Lucas had just made a face and allowed him a “Maybe.”

The pencils are in the same box as all his sketchbooks, the ones he’s started filling with drawings and doodles, and the ones that are completely blank, bought before he moved just in case he wouldn’t be able to buy any after arriving. In the box, he also has watercolours and paints and an abundance of brushes, along with palette knives he’s never used. The box is on the floor next to his door. He moved it from the top of a stack of boxes after needing to find his lined notebooks for school. And his clothes.

Anyway.

The photos.

He remembers when they were taken. He heard a lot of laughter that day. He had taken some before Kes had snatched his phone (freshly cleared of storage just for the occasion), and taken more than Lucas had bothered to count. Pictures of Lucas and Isa, Isa by herself, Lucas and Liv, Lucas and Janna, Lucas and Engel, Lucas and Noah, Lucas and Jayden, Lucas and Ralph, before he had begun taking photos of them not posing. Photos of them eating, laughing, talking, hugging. Them all existing.

They were beautiful.

Lucas had told Kes he could be a photographer. Kes had said he’s never thought about it.

Then Lucas had taken his phone back and taken photos of Kes and the others until his storage ran out.

He printed each and every one of them.

He flips through them whenever he can, grinning and rolling his eyes at the photos of Jayden making a face and the photo of Noah flipping his middle finger to Kes with a flat face, smiling fondly at the photo of Liv and Isa hugging, Isa’s cheek squished against Liv’s, gazing longingly at the ones of them all together.

He sighs.

He supposes he feels lonely now. Of course, he’s still been talking to them, chatting and giggling at the stupid videos and memes they send, but he hasn’t seen or touched them since he moved. He thinks he misses that the most. Hugging, shaking hands, receiving cheek kisses from Isa and Janna and Ralph. Sitting on a sofa and immediately feeling someone’s leg press against his, or lay over his lap. Feeling someone’s head rest on his shoulder, someone’s fingers mess with his curls. He misses when Isa would stand too close while talking to him, close enough for him to wrap his arms around her waist and hold her close while she speaks. He misses when Kes’s thigh would press against his as they sat side-by-side, and when Jayden would greet him with a fist to his shoulder, or Ralph with a pinch on his cheek.

He hasn’t touched anyone since moving. He doesn’t think the accidental brushes against his father’s shoulders as he storms past count.

He misses it, more so sometimes than others. Sometimes he misses it so badly he aches, pulling a pillow to his chest, or wrapping his arms around his legs, trying to feel some sort of contact, some sort of pressure. Sometimes he wonders if he’ll forget what it feels like to touch other people. He, no one for that matter, doesn’t know when it’ll be completely safe to touch others, to hang out with them without covering their faces, to greet them with kisses on the cheek, the way Janna likes to. He doesn’t even know if he’ll have anyone he’ll want to do those things with.

He doubts he’ll find friends like Kes and Jayden, kind of doubts he’ll find friends full stop.

It’s not like he’s going to have the opportunity to get to know anyone at school, as they’re not even at school. And it’s not like he really wants to make friends, anyway. He’ll just leave Antwerp after high school, just have to say goodbye. The first chance he gets, he’s leaving on a train back to Utrecht. He’ll figure his life out from there.

But for now, this is what he has: a mattress on the floor. Blank walls. Towering cardboard boxes. A stash of cigarettes and weed hidden between his mattress and the wall. His skateboard propped up against a stack of boxes. His laptop sitting on top of a box, ready for when he finally starts school, which he’s dreading.

Just more things to do.

More chores.

Everything feels like a chore lately. If he thinks about it, everything’s felt like a chore for a while now. Instead of a to-do list, he has a fuck, I still have to do that list. It takes energy to roll out of bed. It takes commitment to wake up.

It’s gotten worse since he got to Antwerp. Maybe, he thinks, because it’s so much work to exist in the same place as his father, who blames him for every single thing the universe throws his way. But he also thinks it’s because there’s no one here to shake him out of it. Back home, he would get texts and texts from his friends, telling him to meet them at the skatepark, at a cafe, at some party. Giving him things to do.

Here, he still gets texts.

He answers them laying in bed.

He doesn’t know how to explain it.

It feels like something is missing. Like there’s an emptiness in him. It’s easier to ignore when he’s around other people, when he’s listening to loud music and talking and laughing, or scrolling endlessly on social media. It’s easier to pretend there’s something there, on that empty shelf in his chest.

Sometimes it’s sadness, he thinks. Especially since he moved. Sadness from missing home, missing people. But most of the time it’s just… nothing.

And he can’t really spend time with his friends, so he scrolls. Or draws or paints. But he hasn’t been making much art beyond sketches lately.

Part of him hopes he might make some friends when school starts, at least some people to chat with, or hang out with when it’s safe. But if he’s completely honest with himself, he’s not expecting to. He doesn’t even remember how he became friends with most of the friends he has. Kes and Isa had, for lack of a better word, adopted him when they were younger, had taken him under their wings and shown him the ropes of existence.

Which feel like they’re unravelling.

Lucas rolls over in bed, looking up at his laptop on the boxes, sighing. This is his life now. Boxes and the internet. The sound of his father tripping down the hall, grumbling to himself because Lucas isn’t there to scold. (This is just about the only instance Lucas can think of when he hears his father’s voice. The amount of words they’ve exchanged outside of their fights could usually be counted on two hands.) He’ll finally hear some voices that don’t belong to his father next week when he goes to class.

The thought of going back to school, even through video calls and online assignments, makes him itch. He’s picked his lips red and raw in the past few days, without Isa to swat his hands away from his face before he can start tasting blood. When he lets his mind wander, his leg starts to bounce. His mom would set her hand on his knee, making it stop, and chuckle while telling him he’s making her seasick. He doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.

He already has lots of emails from teachers; he checks every time he uses his laptop, but he hasn’t responded to any of them. They all sound the same.

This is new to all of us The school year looks very different this year Thank you all for doing your best! These are uncertain times This digital landscape is difficult to navigate This is a unique challenge This could be an opportunity for you

All monotonous, inspiring voices of people waiting.

He doesn’t know how the hell he’s supposed to respond to any of them.

He tries to think that is really is something everyone is experiencing. That This is new to all of us and We’re all doing what we can, but he feels like he’s in it alone. He knows even Kes and the others aren’t seeing each other in person, aren’t hugging and hanging out the way Lucas longs to, but at least they’re at home. Lucas is stuck in a box, and it feels like it’s closing around him.

He sighs again, shutting his eyes. It’s not quite dark yet, but he feels exhausted, even after doing nothing all day. He’ll probably wake up in a few hours anyway. And he’ll open his blinds, looking out at the city, just half-alive, just like him.

#this is shorter than id like but #baby boys not doing great #also warning rn this *is* going to be a sad fic #but! dont worry about either of them #you know i wouldnt hurt them #also take care of yourself pls #lucas would want you to #i love you #wtfoc #wtfock #skam #skam nl fic #vds #van der stoffels #van der stoffels fic #lucas vdh #lucas van der heijden #jens stoffels #while the world ends around us (make believe with me)

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chasingthepoguelife · 4 years ago

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Lonely Boys Do Stupid Things Part 2

Lonely boys do stupid things Part 2

(gif credits to @rafecameron)

Summary: Rafe is tired of an already boring summer, constantly being judged by everyone on the island, and is looking for a challenge. When the group is introduced to the new girl hanging out with Kiara, Topper suggests a challenge and Rafe accepts only to be conflicted along the way.

Author’s: So in this world Rafe is still a bad guy, just not a “I killed a cop and have all these daddy issues” bad, Topper hasn’t developed yet, and also John B hasn’t dragged anyone into his stupid shit and there is a civil ground between kooks and pogues and Ward isn’t a “I love two out my three children and murdered my friend” dad. For reference, I do not support Rafe’s canon character. I’m just blinded by the attraction I feel for him and I love Drew, but will never condone or excuse Rafe’s actions. Also, I’m not writing y/n with many descriptions. I know all types of people might read this and I want to make everyone feel included but I also don’t want to do it the wrong way so I’m leaving a lot of physical features up to the reader’s imagination. I would also accept tips and constructive criticism to be more of an inclusive writer.

Warning: For part 2 I don’t think there is anything, just a mention of underwear and little yelling from Rafe.

For reference, Rafe is 19, y/n just turned 18 and she’s figuring out her college plans for the upcoming year.

Tag List: @nxsmss @prejudic3 @spencereidbasis @alexandracheers @ifilwtmfc @billybonesxx

“So you’re telling me out of all those guys I met today, you don’t have a thing for a single one of them?” y/n asked.

“Dating here is complicated y/n,” Kie began. “Everyone is so focused on money and status, it’s hard to find anyone real. I used to think John B and I would end up together, but that ended sooner than it began. I kissed Topper one time in the ninth grade, and it was like what I imagine kissing your cousin is like.”

“And what about Rafe?” y/n questioned.

“y/n, no. I know that tone. He may look perfect on the outside, and he may seem like he could give a girl everything she wants but there’s a whole lot of issues and drama that he comes with. Ask around. There’s not 1 girl here he hasn’t screwed over or put in danger. The boy only has feelings and compassion for himself.”

“I always believe that people can change, but if it’s coming from you, I believe that you’re just looking out for me Kie.”

“I promise when you ease more into the island, I have two other guy friends that not only look as good as Rafe, but they won’t drag you down with all their problems.”

“Alright Kie, if I’m not making out with someone soon, it’s really on you if I go looking for Rafe.” Y/n teased.

2 Days Later

“How much you want to bet Kiara already bashed you in front of y/n?” Topper asked.

“She can talk all the shit she wants. I saw the way y/n was staring at me. Guarantee she will be dreaming about me tonight,” Rafe smirked.

“But do you think you’ll even get the chance to talk to her? There’s no way Kie is going to let this happen.”

“Kie can’t be with her 24/7. Lucky for me their houses are 20 minutes apart, and thanks to good old dad and his real estate connections, I already know where she lives.”

“Where are you going man?”

“To put her address in my gps,” Rafe yelled running away.

The ride to the Marigold neighborhood felt like a lifetime to Rafe. He had only ever been here one time as a kid, and even that was a distant memory. It didn’t seem much different than figure eight, except for the fact that he couldn’t even fit his driveway onto some of these properties. To his surprise when the gps said he arrived, he was in front of the last house on the street, probably the largest house he’d seen in the entire neighborhood. One might say that he was a little impressed, but back to being small minded after questioning if all 3 cars in the driveway belong to the family. Rafe parked his car in front of the house, locking it once he got out. Within seconds, he was at y/n’s front door, noting how short the walk is in comparison to his own home. He knocked on the door, waiting for what seemed like forever until the door opened. An older woman resembling y/n answered the door.

“Can I help you son?”

“I’m looking for y/n, did I come to right house?” Rafe asked for effect, knowing very well he was at the right house.

“I wasn’t aware my y/n had made so many friends here already. She should be around somewhere in between all these boxes. Y/n!, please come downstairs,” her mother yelled.

Rafe waited in an awkward silence until he heard foot steps coming down. To say he was looking at a different person was understatement, and had y/n known someone like Rafe was in her living room, well she would be coming down with more than a tshirt and underwear.

Y/n stood there, arms crossed, glaring at her mother. “Really? Couldn’t have bothered to mention that someone else was here?” y/n said grabbing a convenient pair of her dad’s sweatpants on the nearest carboard box.

“In all honesty I didn’t think you’d be putting on a show,” her mother joked.

“What are you doing here Rafe, how did you even know which house we bought?” y/n asked.

“I’m sure Kiara told you, but I have a lot of resources available to me,” Rafe smirked.

“Doesn’t make it any less weird, I’ve met you two days ago.”

“Y/N! Don’t be rude,” her mother said slapping her arm. “You’ve already made one more friend than I have.”

“May I use your restroom?” Rafe asked.

As y/n refused to moved, her mother came back momentarily from showing Rafe where to go.

“10/10 daughter,’ y/n’s mom spoke like she was talking to her best friend.

“Just because he has a nice face and body doesn’t make him a 10 mom, besides, I’ve heard some bad things about him, especially from Kiara,” y/n shared.

Rafe couldn’t help but hear everything from the bathroom. He had needed a moment to cool down after already seeing her half naked after two days, but chose to stay extra to hear more compliments about himself. Topper could’ve at least made this harder by picking a girl he wasn’t physically attracted to.

“Kiara is a lovely girl, but she’s just one person. Sometimes you need to give people the benefit of the doubt “ y/n’s mom said.

Rafe was relieved how much y/n’s mom was on his side, at this point he’d even date her mom just to add some difficulty to this challenge. He was about to join them again in the living room when he heard a louder noise come from the back of the house. A few seconds later, a louder, deeper voice began calling for y/n and her mother.

“Lovely to see two more Marigold residents in these parts,” the older man said.

“Ugh it doesn’t matter where we go you two are such dorks!”

“You should be so luck to find someone half as good as your father young lady.”

Rafe couldn’t help but barf. Relationships make him sick as he’s never a real one in his life, nor did he ever have a good example of one. The only one he could ever consider is the nauseating relationship between his sister and John B. He decided was going to wait for her father to leave the room. He could not handle anymore jokes.

As her mom left the room to her and her dad, y/n had a feeling a hard conversation was coming.

“How about an update on school kiddo?”

“There’s not much to tell dad, I’m still figuring things out,” y/n shrugged.

“Well maybe had you taken 7 APs instead of 4, you would’ve impressed the schools more.”

4 Aps Rafe thought? He could barley get through 1 and this guy was complaining about not taking 7?

“What does it matter dad, I got A’s in all classes. That’s 4 GPA boosters and 4 college credits. Between that a year off to save, I won’t be needing much from you and mom, you know, after all you’ve done for me,” y/n explained.

“After 18 I didn’t see my father and mother for 5 years until I got a stable job. I didn’t go back to them until I could stand on my own two feet without needing anything from them.”

“The world is different now, and you’re acting like I’m never going to do anything on my own.”

“Well you know kid; you have to rustle up something good by next year or we’re going to have to teach you the hard way. Anyways, you know what you have to do. Tell your mother I’m headed down to the Wreck for some work things. See you later pumpkin.”

Rafe thought his dad was messed up, how could this guy insult and support his kid with every other sentence? He waited until it seemed like it was just y/n out there before coming back.

“Finally, I thought you fell in the toilet or something?” y/n joked, but Rafe could tell she was half joking, half compensating for her father putting her down, something Rafe knows all too well.

“I don’t need to explain to you my bathroom habits,” Rafe joked,

“No, but what you need to explain to me is why after two days you think it’s ok to just show up uninvited, without getting the address from me?”

“So you’re saying there’s a problem?” Rafe teased.

“Let’s see, I met you two days ago, you show up unannounced, intruding, and I know nothing about you except for all the bad things-“ y/n shut her mouth once she realized what she was saying.

“Go on, finish what you were saying. All the bad things…. that Kiara told you? Rafe questioned.

“Well what am I supposed to think, you’re not off to the best start. And I’m supposed to believe that after spending like 5 minutes with me, you just have to get to know me, or let me guess, you can’t stop thinking about me?” y/n said sarcastically.

“You haven’t even given me a chance yet,” Rafe stated.

“Rafe, we both know you’re cute, but I can’t take this on right now. I had hoped to meet someone after moving here, but this is already screaming red flag to me. You should just go.”

“You should know, that just because you’re not a pogue, doesn’t mean you’re worth anything on this island!” Rafe spat before storming out the front door.

Rafe made his way back to the car, in disbelief that he didn’t get anywhere with y/n. Kiara must have told her countless stories to turn her off. Not that there weren’t enough known incidences about Rafe, but everyone deserves another chance. Considering Rafe believes he was sculpted by the gods and can’t remember the last time he’s ever been rejected; he’s still confused as to why he couldn’t make it work on y/n.

After Rafe left to head back to Figure Eight, y/n went on her own drive to Kie’s house, letting her know she’d be there soon. When she arrived, Kie was on the steps of her house, watching y/n’s face.

“It’s only been 2 days, what have you done now?” Kie questioned.

“This island is like a lifetime movie! I met the guy two days ago and he just shows up to my house in his fancy car sweet talking my mother!!”

“Rafe? What that makes no sense? We would’ve heard something by now if he was interested in you. That’s how he likes to move,” Kie noted.

“Apparently not, he just blitzed me, and caught in my underwear I may add.”

“So then what happened?”

“Don’t get me wrong I thought about. He seems perfect and really hot, as you know. But I keep replaying everything you told me about him, and that’s not something to ignore. He said you were lying about it all and that I should find out for myself. But my gut told me to not go down that road.”

“He’ll get over it y/n, even more so when he sees you on the arm of my friend JJ.”

“Kie you are not already trying to set me up with another outer banks man!”

“Did you not say you were looking to make out with someone soon?” Kie teased.

“Well after Rafe insulted me for not giving him a choice, I might need to reconsider.”

#rafe cameron #kiara carrera #kie carrera #Outer Banks #obx #drew starkey #rafe cameron imagine #topper thornton

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dollsonmain · 4 years ago

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I WOULD be saying “I am kicking myself for not having thought of this sooner” but I DID think of it a whole week ago and just couldn’t do it because of That Guy.

So.

Yeah this is working out AAAAAH MAZING. The glue is just like KBYE! as long as most of the flocking is already off. I’m still struggling with North Star and I think the other one is posey? maybe? will also be difficult still, but the ones that deflocked well are degluing VERY well.

Much faster. I’m also glad I got to try this at the half-way point instead of having to wait until the last pony or two because that would have pissed me the fukc off.

That Guy is huffing, stomping, and slamming a lot.

When I asked him if he had plans for the car he was like MAYBE.... *scowl*

Around what time?

*shrug and grunt*

Can I run to town????

WHATEVER.

So....... Every time.

Bought a couple of blind bag toys at Walmart.

One is I Dig Monsters and it’s an ice cream? HAAAATE the “ice cream” slime dough stuff. Hate it. The scent bubble things smell nice, though, and the dough dissolves in water so getting what was stuck all over me off was easy enough.

The other is this Monopoly Community Chest?????? Weird theme for blind bags BUT it comes in a lovely little plastic chest-shaped box and is full of 2 enameled metal red hotels, 6 random player tokens, a coin, and..... I guess it’s a bill??? I don’t know, but it’s all metal.

For $10, it’s weird but decent. I like the little chest the most. It’s a great size for dolls.

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platypanthewriter · 4 years ago

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Yuletide fic 2/5!

Part One/Two/Three/Four/Five Read them as I post here, or all at once in Ao3 under peterqpan

Dustin and his mom showed up ten minutes later, and Joyce threw her arms around Mrs. Henderson before dragging her into the kitchen and setting off another round of shocked gasps. Dustin walked in and burst out laughing at them all silently lighting up the twelve foot tree and enduring the Muppets.

“Fuck you,” Billy muttered, passing a string of lights to Will.

“Jonathan, my man, we definitely need pictures of all this,” Dustin cackled, and Will brightened.

Billy was turning his glare on Dustin when the main Christmas offender put an arm around him, hauling him close to whisper “I’m gonna take a look at Joyce’s car, cover for me.”

“What,” Billy said, staring at the tree.

“What?” asked Will, and Steve bent, pulling Billy with him.

“I’m gonna take a look at why your mom’s car won’t start.”

“Is that something you...know how to do?” Jonathan asked warily, and Steve raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s good at shit,” Billy interrupted, sighing. “Fucking straight A’s in shop.”

“El and Hopper are coming over,” Dustin said, grinning, and Steve squeezed Billy’s shoulders.

“Perfect, they can help,” he said happily, and Billy wondered what had happened. Where he’d gone wrong, and ended up in Christmasy hell.

Steve slunk off to the garage—Will helped by stealing Joyce’s keys out of her purse while she sorted piles of food, and they drove her car in next to Steve’s—and Billy and Jonathan strung lights around the trunk in awkward silence until another knock came on the door, and Billy dropped the lights to run and get it, opening the door in hopes of directing Hopper at the damn tree, and finding...Max and Lucas, on their bikes.

They stared back at him with set jaws, and Billy tried to figure out what was going on. “Did something happen?” he hissed at Max, closing the door behind him, and rubbing his arms in the chill air.

“Yeah,” she raised her eyebrows. “You’re throwing a huge fuckoff Christmas party. Let us in.”

“No,” Billy stared at her. “No, it’s not—”

“You’re not letting us in? She’s your sister,” Lucas hissed, and Billy groaned and yanked the doorknob, letting the door fall open behind him.

“It’s not a party,” he hissed as they elbowed past him. “People keep coming, I don’t—”

“We’re here!” Max yelled, and Dustin cheered, and then Will and the moms cheered, and Lucas clambered up the ladder to grab the lights from Will. Max started digging through the boxes again, Jonathan got his camera, and Billy backed back into the kitchen, where Joyce and Mrs. Henderson were staring into the fridge.

“He’s lost it,” Billy told them, leaning over the door. “I think he bought the whole store. Did he even get anything you can put together? I think he had some magazine with recipes—”

“...I can make hors d'oeuvres,” said Mrs. Henderson, rolling up her sleeves. “And pie. The turkey will be cold if we cook it tonight—”

“I think there’s stuff for sweet potato casserole,” Joyce muttered, hands on her hips.

“I can make that,” Billy offered with a sigh, imagining Steve’s eyes lighting up at a whole Christmas spread.

Their eyes narrowed as they surveyed him.

Billy shrugged. “Or some pie?”

The doorbell rang just then, though, and Billy wandered in a daze to let Hopper and El in. He leaned out to frown up and down the road, just in case the Wheelers all showed up, or maybe a busload of scientists, from the lab. Or Santa, he thought, ready for anything.

“The hell is all this?” he heard Hopper ask, and Joyce started laughing.

As Billy wandered back in, he saw El pelt over to Max, Lucas, and Will, who were doing a respectable job of lighting the tree, and Hopper lean in between the two moms to start discussing the menu. “Sounds like Billy can cook too,” Joyce said, her eyes narrowed.

“I’m sorry I left him alone in the grocery store,” Billy said again, and Mrs. Henderson smiled.

“Sounds like if you hadn’t, Joyce would still be stranded on the side of the road!”

“Wait, what,” Hopper asked, and Joyce distracted him by handing him all the cans for pumpkin pie. Hopper huffed, glowering down at her, but turned to dig around in the fridge for butter, and Billy got him the flour, and got back a grumbled lecture on proper pie crust.

“My mom used vodka,” he offered, and Hopper frowned deeply at him.

“...’cause it evaporates out,” Hopper said. “Leaves just the good stuff. Smart lady.”

“Waste of vodka, though,” Billy muttered, rattling around for the can opener when he was blinded by a camera flash.

Joyce yelped like she had her mouth full, and Billy frowned over to see she had an olive on every finger, and she was trying not to choke laughing. Hopper threatened her with the wooden spoon, there were more flashes, and Mrs. Henderson patted Billy’s shoulder.

“Could you help me move some things around?” she asked, and he nodded, feeling weirdly lightheaded as Hopper squeezed his shoulder to thank him, and Joyce patted his hair, and Mrs. Henderson thanked him again.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Joyce told him, as he helped her chop green beans. Billy nodded, frowning at her. Hopper said “Atta kid,” as Billy got a pan under the pie just as it threatened to tip, and when Mrs. Henderson accepted his bowl of chopped vegetables and said “Bless you,” he fled to the garage, his hands shaking.

Steve’s legs were sticking out from under the car, and Billy dropped to lie on the floor, staring underneath. “Harrington,” he hissed.

“Whumf?” Steve asked, looking over. He had a plastic cap in his mouth. Billy stared back at him, took a deep breath, and nodded, scrambling back to his feet. “What? Billy!” Steve yelled, and Billy scrubbed at his face with his hands, and straightened his shirt. “Wait, Billy,” Steve’s voice said, closer, and Billy let himself be tugged backwards into a tight hug. “You okay?” Steve asked, and Billy laughed, nodding.

“Need me to come help?” Steve asked, and Billy shook his head, smiling as Steve turned him by the shoulders to see his face, frowning. “You’re quiet. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Billy huffed a laugh, his face still warm from being treated like one of their kids.

Steve narrowed his eyes, and then cupped Billy’s face with his stinky motor-oil hands, and kissed him softly. Billy lost time when Steve pulled shit like that, he was pretty sure, the same way he didn’t know where he’d been sometimes, between his dad getting home and going to bed—but it was only a few seconds, with Steve, and he liked it, chasing the feeling and Steve’s mouth as Steve stepped back, laughing, and Billy hugged him close again around the neck. He always came to himself safe, with Steve.

Billy stumbled back into the kitchen with his cheeks aching from his wide smile, and Joyce...stared at him, for a long moment, before snaking a hand out like a striking cobra and dipping it in Hopper’s pumpkin pie mix (he swore, and smacked her wrist with the spoon)and poking it all down Billy’s nose.

She grinned at him. “Go wash your face.”

“What the fuck,” Billy hissed, as she shoved him back out of the kitchen, but when he got into the bathroom and glared into the mirror, his stomach roiled, because Steve had left black fingerprints where he’d cupped Billy’s face, and there was a smear of oil where he’d run his thumb across Billy’s lower lip. Billy’s fingers shook as he washed it all off.

He forced himself to leave the bathroom, finally, when he heard Mrs. Henderson ask where he was, and walked back in the kitchen feeling like he was wading through cement.

Joyce— Mrs. Byers, he corrected himself, reminding himself to be respectful, at least—pulled him over and ruffled his hair, and when Hopper grabbed Billy’s arm, he only moved past the knife in Billy’s hand, and let go. Billy watched him walk by, the knife loose in his fingers, and Hopper patted his back.

Max gave him a weird look when she walked by with Will and Lucas, hunting up more lights, and found him cranking the apple corer Hopper had found and brought over for apple pie. “The hell are you doing,” she whispered.

“Making a fucking pie,” he hissed back, and her eyes narrowed. “I’m giving you the slice with the apples I got off a wicked witch,” he told her, turning the handle, and watching the apple skin spiral away hypnotically. “She said it tastes like sleeping death. Yum.”

“...fuck you,” she said, after some consideration. “Lemme try that.”

“Hopper told me to make pie,” Billy told her, biting back a grin, and she growled.

“Share your toys,” said Mrs. Henderson, and Joyce and Hopper snickered, glancing at each other, and back at Billy, and he had to look away fast because it looked like they might kiss, which he did not need to watch.

“Fine,” Billy said, getting up to let Max try the apple corer/slicer/thing. “If you’re a shit,” he told her under his breath, “—I can figure out how to use this on you.”

“Don’t hurt your brain trying,” she shot back, eyes sparkling as she shoved an apple over the spikes to hold it in place, and began cranking like a demon so apple juice sprayed across the table.

Billy wandered out into the front room to avoid the apple carnage, and the tree looked good. He couldn’t see the bucket—somebody’d wadded something red up under there to hide it—there were enough lights that it lit the room by itself, and Lucas was up the ladder directing like a drill sergeant while Dustin made commentary on the ornaments. Will passed them up, mumbling things like “Sir, yes, sir,” as he swayed slowly to the Muppets. Jonathan wandered by Billy and took some pictures in the kitchen, and Joyce and Hopper started swearing, so probably that was a success too.

“Huh,” said Dustin, frowning down at the ornaments in his hands, and Billy sidled over to look.

“What.”

“Oh, no, just…” the kid glanced up, saw Billy, and glowered. “Nothing. Why the hell are you here?”

“I’m the one who told Steve to invite you, so suck it,” Billy told him, crouching to look at the ornaments. “What’s wrong, they broken?”

“Noooo,” Dustin drew the word out, screwing his whole face up at Billy suspiciously. “They’re just, y’know. Like, Hallmark, they put dates on the ornaments, right?”

“Yeah, I can read numbers, shithead,” Billy said, reaching in for a little Rudolph from 1976.

“Well there’s none from after 1976, fucknuts,” Dustin whispered back, and Billy frowned into the box. “Bunch from before that. Then it just kinda stops. Also, we’re almost out.”

“Shit, I coulda gotten some more,” Billy muttered, glancing around at the layers of dust on the boxes, the yellowed newspaper wrapping, and pushing down the idea of Steve’s Christmases stopping when he was ten . He frowned from the box to the tree, and Dustin snorted a laugh.

“F’I’d’ve known you had a tree, I coulda brought some,” Dustin whispered.

“We didn’t have a tree,” Billy hissed back. “I found Joyce Byers freezing to death and he went nuts. I’d have grabbed something—”

“We could make cookies,” Dustin bit his lips, thinking. “Popcorn balls. My mom made caramel popcorn balls last Halloween.”

Billy nodded, thinking. “We could make paper chains.”

“I can make snowflakes,” said El, dropping to sit between them, and pushing the mostly-empty box towards Will. “We made them in school.”

“I can find some paper,” Billy said, getting to his feet, and running upstairs to the electric typewriter in Steve’s parent’s room. He hauled a stack downstairs just in time to see Dustin climb up to sit on the kitchen counter next to his mom, and lean to whisper in her ear as she hissed at him and pointed to the ground like he was a misbehaving cat.

“Will has some, too,” said Eleven, yanking the stack out of his hands, and trotting over to Will, who had dropped next to the tree with his backpack, a stack of construction paper, and scissors.

“Pies are in the oven,” Hopper announced, wiping his hands dry on his pants. “Who’s hungry?” There was a chorus of “Me!”s, and he nodded. “Sandwiches,” he said. “Who wants a PB & J?” There was another chorus of “Meee!”s, and he nodded, grabbing the bread, as Dustin and his mom flanked Billy, asking about popcorn, and Joyce started digging through the fridge chanting “Jelly! Jelly! Jel—ew, what? Jelly…”

“We have some microwave popcorn,” Billy told them, warily, and Mrs. Henderson cocked her head, pursing her lips. “It’ll do,” she said. “Dustin, find the waxed paper.”

“On it,” he saluted, and dove between Hopper’s feet to dig through drawers. There was a lot of crashing and swearing from that direction for a bit, and Billy ducked back to the door to the garage to see Steve.

“It’s insane out there,” he said, stepping into the silence of the garage, broken only by Steve’s muffled humming. “...Harrington?” Billy asked, and Steve’s head popped up near Joyce’s hood. “You need any help?”

“Fuck you and your shitty Camaro,” Steve muttered, narrowing his eyes. “You just wanna bend over the engine so your ass sticks out and I drop something on my foot.”

“...yeah, probably,” Billy said, grinning.

“Just tweaking her battery terminals,” he said, and Billy nodded leaning to kiss his boyfriend’s head. “Hey,” Steve said, grinning up. “Thought I’d, y’know, change the oil, all that.”

“You want a sandwich?” Billy asked, squatting next to him, and reaching out to roll up the sleeve that had slid down Steve Harrington’s engine-oil streaked arm. Steve leaned over to kiss him, warm and soft in the cold air of the garage, and Billy scooted closer, sliding his tongue over the edges of Steve’s teeth, and tasting probably...more engine grease. “Hopper’s making PB&Js,” he whispered against Steve’s lips, and Steve grinned.

“Sure,” he whispered back. “Why’s Hopper here? Now? Aren’t they coming tomorr—”

“Everyone is here,” Billy groaned, letting his head drop on Steve’s shoulder. “Everyone. The pope might be coming—President Nixon—”

“Holy shit,” Steve snickered. “Yeah, bring me a sandwich, little woman.”

“Y’know most murderers are the spouse,” Billy told him, rolling his eyes, and Steve giggled, grinning.

“...you really like Christmas, huh,” Billy sighed.

“Nah,” Steve said, lying. “I’m just—this is kind of fun, y’know?”

“Fixing her car for Christmas,” Billy said flatly. “You should tell Shortness and Camera Perv to vacuum it out.”

“Ohhh,” Steve’s eyes widened. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s good, yeah.” He leaned in close again, warm against Billy’s side, his breath hot against Billy’s cheek, and kissed his jaw. “You like Christmas too, huh?”

I really don’t, Billy thought, eyeing his boyfriend’s bright smile. “Yeah,” he lied in return. “Yeah, I, uh, I have...memories. Of Christmas.” Steve looked away, laughing uncertainly, and Billy yanked him close, squeezing his ribs. “There’s pies in the oven,” Billy told him. “Will’s dancing around to the Muppets. I think Hopper and Joyce almost kissed over the sandwiches—” Steve snorted, letting his head fall against Billy’s neck, and nuzzling in with a sigh. Billy stroked the back of his neck, and kissed his ear. “Max is murdering some more apples, I think,” he whispered, feeling Steve’s laugh hot against his skin. “—no idea why. She’s gonna be in slasher movies one day.”

Steve hugged him tighter. “You think it’s gonna screw everything up, having us here?” he asked softly, and Billy cocked his head, frowning at the wall.

“...it’s your house, dumbass,” he said into the cool strands of Steve’s hair, wondering what the hell.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

“What the shit, then,” Billy asked. “Respectfully.”

Steve burst into snickers again, scooting closer until he was practically in Billy’s lap, and Billy sat on the ground to steady them. “Feel like I stole Christmas,” he mumbled, and Billy squinted at the wall again, opening his mouth to ask for clarification. “Stole their Christmas,” Steve sighed. “We coulda put plastic over the broken windows. They could have had the Christmas they wanted—”

“Jesus Christ Whittaker,” Billy said, ignoring Steve laughing harder. “They’re all having a great time out there, you—defective. Fucking. Dimwit. Doofus. Is that why you’re hiding in the garage?”

“It’s a family thing!” Steve hissed. “Maybe they didn’t—”

“Look, we’re gonna make some goddamn Christmas cookies,” Billy told him, “—and you’re gonna come out of the fucking garage and watch something irritating on TV, and put on more torture music—”

“You hate Christmas,” Steve wheezed, like he’d taken a blow, and Billy gritted his teeth.

“Don’t make me spank your ass,” he told Steve, who was laughing too hard to talk. Billy pushed him away enough to stare into his wide brown eyes. “I love you a hell of a lot more than I care about Christmas. You want a turkey? I will cook you a goddamn turkey. You need to know they want you here? I will sit on your ass while they sing—” Billy tried to think of the worst of all Christmas songs, and had too many options. “—Jingle Bells,” he said. “You want a fucking reindeer I will go bludgeon one with those ski poles, okay?! Fuck.”

“Love you too,” Steve said, going all misty-eyed and goopy at the most annoying time ever.

Billy leaned in and kissed him, batting his dirty fingers away with one hand as he lifted Steve’s chin with the other. “Yeah, yeah,” he whispered, rolling his eyes. “You’re full of Christmas spirit. I’m gonna get you a sandwich.”

“I still love you when it’s not Christmas,” Steve muttered, rubbing his eyes on his rolled-up sleeve. “Don’t murder a reindeer.”

“What about that Rudolph one,” Billy asked, narrowing his eyes, and running his knuckles over where Steve’s cheeks were pink from the cold air in the garage. “Lot to answer for. Talk about annoying.”

“Don’t kill Rudolph,” Steve whispered, leaning into Billy’s hand for another kiss.

“What if I drop his body on Frosty,” Billy countered, and Steve raised his eyebrows, considering.

The faint sounds of Muppets and shouting suddenly blasted as the garage door clicked open, and Billy’s heart pounded in his chest, grateful they were tucked back behind Joyce Byers’ car.

“Billy?” came her voice. “Steve? Don’t just hide in here—”

“We’re not,” Steve said, standing, and hurriedly straightening his clothes like a character in one of Susan’s Edwardian romances, who’d been interrupted in the lap of a duke. Billy stared at him, then at Joyce, who was frowning at them.

“Uh,” she said, clearing her throat. “Dustin’s mom was going to come in, so—” she said, grimacing, and Billy realized she wasn’t going to say anything, and felt so lightheaded with relief he had to reach out and steady himself on her car.

“We’ll be right out,” he told her. We weren’t doing anything, I swear, he thought, glancing from her doubtful expression to Steve, who was still tucking the shirt in his pants, and yanking at his sweater like Billy’d just been halfway to third base. He was pink right down his neck, and Billy longed to slide his hands up under his boyfriend’s clothes, and see how warm he was with the embarrassment of nearly getting caught by Joyce Byers.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve mumbled unhelpfully, touching his cheek where Billy’s hand had been, and Billy groaned.

“Go clean up,” he hissed. “Put a different sweater on.”

“Oh,” Steve looked down. “Yeah, I should—probably should do that.”

Joyce turned and left before Steve, and Billy watched them go, wondering whether she was still deciding what to do, or whether she was giving them a break, for Christmas, and then she’d kind of—be a little distant, and Billy’d know it was because she’d caught him with marks where Steve’s fingers had held him close for a kiss.

She wouldn’t tell my dad, he told himself, because he’d seen Will flinch when Hopper reached over him to hang an ornament, and Jonathan curl in on himself, a little, when Hopper yelled sandwiches. Billy drew a long breath. It’s safe, it’s safe, he chanted, silently moving his lips. It’s safe, we’re safe from that, she wouldn’t, we’re safe from him.

He’d get her alone, he decided. Until then, there was no need to tell Steve they’d fucked up.

Billy walked out of the garage and got snagged by Mrs. Henderson, who wanted to know where the sugar was, and thought Billy was gonna know, like he lived there. He handed it over, and found her a pan, and a mixing bowl, and then Max kicked him right in the ass and ran, and he chased her out to the front room.

She slid to a stop in her stockings, waving at the sparsely decorated tree. There were two short, fluffy gold garlands, and for some reason a lot of wide, glittery ribbon, but even then, it looked like the decorators for a 5th Avenue department store had been kidnapped before they’d gotten rolling.

“It doesn’t look...too bad,” Billy said guiltily, eyeing the department-store sized tree with one measly box of ornaments.

“It looks dumb as hell,” Lucas said, frowning up. “I’m thinking...paper chains.”

“I’ve got colors,” Will said, cutting carefully around a snowflake, and Max held a hand out to Billy.

“Scissors,” she said, and he glared at her, but stomped over to the phone and grabbed the pair out of the pen jar and smacked the handles into her outstretched hand, along with a roll of scotch tape.

El was putting Will’s snowflakes on the tree, and it...didn’t look bad, actually, even if there weren’t nearly enough.

“We wrapped the ribbon around it, too,” Max shrugged. “From in with the wrapping paper.”

“Dustin’s on popcorn balls,” Billy told her, and she nodded, cutting thick strips out of Will’s red paper, and passing them to Lucas, who chained each loop off the next.

Hopper came out with paper plates and handed around a sandwich each, and Billy started wondering where Steve was—whether he’d hidden in his bedroom, or taken a shower, or fallen asleep—when Joyce came up and grabbed his arm, and Billy jumped and nearly smacked her in the face with his sandwich.

“D’you know if Steve has any more sleeping bags?” she asked, and Billy opened his mouth to ask why the hell she thought he’d have any fucking idea, then remembered them, next to the skiwear in the garage.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, leading the way, and realizing too late it left the two of them alone as the garage door closed behind them.

“Oh, good,” Joyce said, trotting over to where he’d been crouched holding Steve. “That’s one for El, and Dustin—and I can sleep on the couch—”

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Billy said hoarsely. “Ma’am,” he added, belatedly. “About—about us. It—he’s all happy about Christmas, just—just let him—”

“Oh jesus, no,” she breathed, dropping the sleeping bag she’d stuck under either arm and walking up to squeeze his hands as the bags bounced behind her on the floor. One of them rolled around to bump Billy’s legs as she frowned up at him. “You two—”

Billy swallowed hard, having still, somehow, hoped she’d be surprised and confused.

“You two...” she repeated, squeezing his hands and patting them between her own as she frowned up at him. “It’s—it’s okay to be different,” she said, setting her jaw. “Everybody’s different, you—you can be a little—a little more different—”

“...you’re not pissed at us,” Billy breathed, closing his eyes. He felt tired, suddenly, and he leaned against the hood of Steve’s car, sighing.

“No—no, I’m not—how could— Will’s different,” she gritted out. “Will’s different, and—and he’s such a good kid, I—I love him so much,” she said, and Billy laughed, opening his eyes to see her stare boring into him. “I love him so much,” she repeated. “There’s nothing wrong with him. There’s nothing wrong with being different.”

“...okay,” Billy said, feeling like she needed him to respond, and she shook his hands like she was trying to get his attention.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” she said, and he laughed, unable to meet her eyes. “Billy,” she said, and he nodded automatically at the stern voice. “Thank you for inviting us for Christmas. Thank you.” He nodded again, his eyes stinging, and she blew air through her cheeks, squeezing his hands again. “...who else knows?” she asked, and he took a weird shuddering breath, shaking his head when his voice wouldn’t come out.

“Just Steve?” she whispered, and he nodded, flinching as she reached up absently and messed up his hair again. “They won’t get it out of me,” she said, linking her pinky with his, so he snorted a wet laugh. “You two might want to be more careful, though, okay?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, and she stepped up next to him where he was leaning against the car, and pulled his head into her shoulder, stroking his hair. She smelled like cigarettes, the sandwich she’d been eating, her shitty car, and baking, and he let himself close his eyes again, inhaling.

“I wondered why you two were making a turkey,” she said, idly, and he laughed, relaxing as her arm tightened around his head, and he had to turn his head a little to breathe against her shoulder. “Sounds like he really wanted a nice Christmas with you.”

“He’s loving this,” Billy whispered, sighing. “He’s gonna wanna watch Christmas specials. He’s probably hanging his actual sweat socks on the tree. He’s lost it.”

“Hrrrrm,” she said, swaying a little back and forth, and Billy never wanted to move again, even as he started to shiver in the cold garage. “Y’know, kiddo,” she said, “—Hopper’s made fancy Christmas cookies before, with his—” she cleared her throat. “—uh, his—he’s—he knows how. What say we go make some gingerbread and blow your, um,” she paused, and Billy waited. “Your boyfriend away,” she decided, and he groaned, his face heating like he had a heatlamp inside.

“Jesus,” he mumbled, and she gave his head a last squeeze, ruffled his hair, and let go. “Come on,” she said, “Let’s get going.”

The shower turned off upstairs as they hauled the sleeping bags out of the garage, and El was shaping the first popcorn balls, pressing M&Ms into them in zigzag patterns like glass ornaments. Dustin wedged a candy cane in each, forming the popcorn around it as a hook, and Billy tried to remember how much candy he’d unpacked.

The popcorn was hot and gooey, and Mrs. Henderson grabbed Billy by the shoulders and pushed him at the sink as Hopper shoved the kids at the sink and watched them wash, and then coated everyone’s hands with butter. Popcorn balls started covering every surface in the kitchen, as Jonathan’s flash worked overtime.

“Whoa, wow, what’s happening,” Steve said, at Billy’s elbow, and Billy wanted to spin around and scream into his sweater, but instead he just pulled him closer and washed all four of their hands at once, while Steve smiled, watching his face.

“We’re making ornaments for your giant tree,” said Dustin, and Steve blinked, but the next moment Billy had a handful of butter, and he was rubbing it into Steve’s fingers, and watching him turn slowly red over his entire body.

“O-o-okay,” Steve yelped, staring at Billy as Dustin smacked a malformed popcorn ball into his hands.

“Hurry up, they’ll harden!” he barked, and Steve nodded, glancing around wide-eyed to see what everyone else was doing, but avoiding looking at Billy.

“Lemme know if I need to grease you up again,” Billy drawled, and Steve glared at him, his cheeks nearly magenta, before Joyce smacked them both, lightly, on the backs of their heads.

“Boys,” she said, and they both shut up, occasionally exchanging glances. Steve leaned to bump shoulders, and Billy grinned at his popcorn ball, pressing brown M&Ms in as a mouth, and orange for a nose.

“It’s a snowman,” he announced, and El gasped.

“I’ll make a Rudolph,” Steve whispered. “Candy canes for antlers?”

“Tomorrow we can crash them into each other,” Billy muttered. “Like a monster truck rally.” Steve snorted, reaching over and popping an M&M in Billy’s mouth with a warm, sugary, greasy finger, and Billy stared at his popcorn ball for several long seconds, willing his erection to subside.

On to Part Three

#harringrove #found family #boyfriend cookies #boyfriend kisses

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