#i wanna listen to you whisper to me! i wanna watch bad american movies! don’t wanna give another kiss with my baby on my mind!

[wherethewaterstarts-andyouend]

What are you talking about? No I haven’t been listening to the same on repeat for the past hour.

[switch-bladefights]

i love idkhow…… dallon weekes the man ever…….

[hazardsoflove]

I WANNA LISTEN TO YOU WHISPER TO ME I WANNA WATCH BAD AMERICAN MOVIES DON’T WANNA GIVE ANOTHER KISS WITH MY BABY ON MY MIND IT WASN’T KIND IT WAS KIND OF BORING I PUT A PILL IN MY CUP EVERY MORNING AND WHEN I DIE I’LL GET THOSE COLD COPPER KISSES ON MY EYES AND NOW I’M FIGHTING FOR A LOOK AT THE DOWNSIDE

[cultgambles]

Yeah She Bad Ain’t She

Why would I wanna keep her to myself

Dabi x Reader x Hawks

Wrote this in Hawks’ POV bc try new things. Enjoy! Also got inspired by some audios on gwa lol but what’s new.

Voyeurism, exhibitionism, public, threesome, mutual masturbation, one (1) gay joke, they/them pronouns for reader, afab tho

WC: 1794

Masterlist | Requests? open

The first time you step into the dingy bar of the LOV, you scrunch your nose at the smell. Cough into your fist, and scan the room with careful eyes. You see Tomura Shigaraki nursing a whiskey at the bar, Kurogiri behind it, Spinner chatting up Twice. Dabi is laid back on the couch, his arm slung around someone you don’t recognize.

“Hawks, our newest member!” Shigaraki says to the team. “Give him every hospitality.”

“Hey-yo!” you say, saluting leisurely as a greeting. Shigaraki introduces everyone, as if you don’t already know who everyone is. Except one person, the one cozied up to Dabi. They introduce themselves as [Y/N]. Someone you’ll have to research on later before you report back to the commission, which makes you sigh silently.

“Come sit! You’re in luck because tonight is movie night!” Twice says.

“Just tonight?” you ask, watching the rest of the members find seats around the small TV.

“Every Thursday!”

“What are we watching tonight?”

“Catch Me If You Can! About that American con artist,” [Y/N] says. “Pass me that blanket, would you?”

“Sounds interesting. And sure,” you say, tossing the Christmas themed blanket at them. You watch as they fluff it out on themselves and Dabi. You push over one of those lounge chairs and flop onto it. Shigaraki queues up Netflix and hits the play button.

About thirty minutes in, you hear [Y/N]. “Dabi, stop,” they whisper, smacking him on the arm lightly.

“What, I’m not doing anything at all.”

“Don’t act all innocent.” Out of your peripheral vision, you swear you see Dabi’s hand move under the blanket, ​​[Y/N]’s hand gripping his forearm.

“But don’t I make you feel good, baby?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions. The problem is everyone is here.”

“Not like we haven’t done something like this before,” he scoffs. “Look, we even got an audience.”

Your face flushes as you listen to their conversation. You barely hear a low groan from [Y/N]’s lips.

“Can y’all shut the fuck up? I’m trying to see what Frank’s gonna do!” Shigaraki fumes, whipping around. A look at Dabi. “Oh.”

“C’mon, boss, don’t pay attention to us, watch the movie,” [Y/N] says.

“This is free entertainment right here.”

[Y/N]’s hips jolt upwards. “You perv.”

“More moaning my name, less talking,” Dabi growls, ripping the blanket off [Y/N]. [Y/N]’s wearing a yellow sundress, that by now, is hitched up above their hips. Their panties are pushed to the side, showing their glistening sex. Dabi’s middle finger and ring finger disappear inside of them, his palm pressing against the clit roughly as he fingers them.

“I-Is this a normal occurrence?” you stutter, face turning the same color as your wings.

“P-pretty normal, yeah, oh, Dabi, right there!” [Y/N] trails off, grinding up for more friction.

“What can we say, we like to have fun here.”

By now, the other league members have turned around, movie be damned.

“How are y’all so casual about this?!”

“Don’t be like that, you’re having a good time too, bird brain,” Dabi smirks, eyes drifting to your growing erection.

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap. But he’s not wrong, both of them have got you so enamored. You hear the squelch and squeaks, the quickening of breaths.

“Dabi, I need you, need your cock,” you barely hear them whisper.

“Of course, doll. Lay down,” Dabi smiles softly, planting a kiss on their lips.

You don’t know if you’d rather be him or [Y/N].

[Y/N] slips down, horizontal on the couch. You eye Dabi as he stands straighter, nimble fingers unclasping his belt and pulling his cock out. It shimmers slightly in the TV light. He drags his cock along their folds, gathering wetness. He taps it against them. Without warning, he slams into them, both letting out a guttural sound at the sensation. His pace is slow, he’s gripping [Y/N]’s hips as a smack smack smack rings out as their bodies meet.

Somewhere behind you, you hear a zipper unzipping. You’re tempted to too, but would that be too soon? Must be, since this is basically your first official day here.

But you don’t deny how good [Y/N] looks taking Dabi’s cock. Hair splayed out, breasts moving under that sundress. You want to rip the dress off of them. Tt hold, knead at the flesh, and lick at the pert nipple. Your eyes travel down their body, where [Y/N] takes him in so nicely. How would they taste, you wonder.

And what about Dabi? Just the size of him could choke you out.

Dabi’s voice snaps you out of your reverie. “C’mon, man, if you’re just gonna stare at them, why don’t you play?”

“Nothin’ wrong with lookin,’” you trail off.

You so want to. Badly.

“Hawwwwkkks,” [Y/N] moans. “Let me taste you. Taste me. Whatever.”

“You heard them,” Dabi drawls.

One beat, and suddenly you’re up, fast as lightning. “[Y/N], let me take your dress off.”

“Okay,” [Y/N] lifts their arms as you pull the dress up over their head, revealing the tantalizing and smooth skin. You toss the dress somewhere to the side of you and rip off your gloves. You kneel beside them on the floor, slotting your mouth against theirs in an open mouthed kiss. Your hands sneak up, massaging their breasts and pinching the nipples.

You feel [Y/N]’s hand snake down your chest, and whimper as their hand grips your clothed cock. You pull away to bring it out. The tip is flushed red, a bead of precum forming at the slit. You stroke your hand down once, and move so your hips are flush with [Y/N]’s face.

“Nice dick,” [Y/N] and Dabi mutter at the same time.

“Jinx!” [Y/N] barks a laugh that soon turns into a moan at a particularly hard thrust.

[Y/N]’s tongue slides on the underside of your cock, massaging the vein there. Soon enough, it’s enveloped in their mouth and you fight to suppress a moan.

“Your mouth feels so good, baby.” [Y/N] hums, taking you in deeper. Their nose nuzzles the hair at the base of your dick slightly. They barely have to do any work as Dabi basically pushes them forward with each thrust. Dabi looks up at you with lazy eyes.

“Kiss me,” you plead, leaning in.

“That’s gay,” he says as he captures your lips with his.

You’ve never kissed a man before. He tastes like old cigarettes and mint. Your tongue slides against his teeth, and finally meets his tongue.

He’s got a tongue piercing.

How many piercings does this dude even have?

You jerk away without warning as [Y/N] does a particularly hard suck.

“Wanna feel their pussy?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Just because you’re new I’ll

let you.” Is this a trick?

You so want to.

[Y/N] pops off of you. “Dabs likes watching.”

“Does that even count since I’m also partaking?”

“I think so. Just get over here, I need your fat cock in my mouth. Not that yours wasn’t also good, Hawks. Just needs to be somewhere else,” [Y/N] says.

“Do it!” you hear.

Damn. You’re so wrapped up in these two, you forgot there was an audience. However, it seems that was the push you needed. You give the a-okay. Dabi nods, clearly pleased by your decision, and pulls out.

You trade places, [Y/N]’s hole flexing against nothing. You bring two fingers down to swipe at the wetness and run your tongue along the digits. You guide your cock in, letting out a satisfied moan at the warmth. [Y/N] squeezes your cock deliciously, and you almost want to come right then and there. You tell them so.

Your pace isn’t as brutal as Dabi’s but still elicits those sounds you're beginning to love out of [Y/N]’s mouth. A sick part of you hopes you’re better than Dabi, and that they will leave him for you.

Or maybe they’ll let you in again? How often do they do this sort of stuff, you wonder to yourself.

[Y/N] and Dabi are holding hands sweetly, their fingers brushing against his charred skin rhythmically.

Your hand moves to rub tight circles on their clit and you're squeezed impossibly tighter as a response.

“You gonna come, [Y/N]?” Dabi asks. “Getting sloppy there. Don’t bite, baby.”

“I’m so close,” [Y/N]’s voice dips off info nothingness at the end, mouth agape. They throw their head back as they move their hips against yours when your body meets theirs. “I want both of you to come inside of me.”

“Wasn’t gonna do it anywhere else,” Dabi chuckles.

“You want me to?” you ask.

“Yeah, fill me up good, Hawks.”

You glance at Dabi. He shrugs. Hope he doesn’t kill you for this.

“Oh shit,” you curse, feeling [Y/N] spasm around you and shudder.

You think Dabi comes at the same time you do. You slow to a languid pace, letting [Y/N]’s walls milk you.

“Good job, doll face,” you watch him lean down and peck [Y/N] on the forehead. “You too, bird brain.”

“Uh, thanks.” You pull out of [Y/N], and they wince at the loss. You tuck yourself back into your pants and [Y/N] wraps the blanket around their shoulders.

“Good show!” Twice says.

“Now let’s finish the movie,” Shigaraki huffs out.

“You have such a one track mind, Shiggy,” [Y/N] says, ruffling his hair.

“I’m just really invested.”

“Yeah, you were invested in us, too,” they say, looking down briefly.

“Oh shut up.” You catch a glimpse of his cock as he scurried to shove it back in his pants.

“See ya round, Hawks,” [Y/N] says, blowing you a kiss. They take Dabi’s hand in theirs and walk up the stairs at the back of the bar.

“Probably gonna fuck some more,” Spinner snickers.

You’re lucky your mic on the inside of your jacket just happened to die before you got up to some frisky business. This has got to be the weirdest thing you’ve been a part of: League of Villains just fuck as bonding activity.

Maybe you’ll keep this one to yourself. You wonder if they would ever invite you again.

[dadsbongos]

Red Scare

Movie/Game/Show: Marvel Dynamic: Peter Parker/Reader Warnings: some au where everyone’s in the compound and happy because :), i wrote out a russian accent for pronunciation purposes (it’s then quickly wrote out but hey), “slowburn” written by someone impatient, fem pronouns Summary: Peter just really wants to hold your hand and gets embarrassed by Nat and Tony to do it. Word Count: 3.5K ~~~

Steve was the one who’d found you originally. Well, fought you - to be accurate. The super soldier was a target you’d been put on as a Widow when Natasha found you both and broke the fight up. She’d just barely managed to convince Steve to keep you around - insisting that she could help defect you from Widowing and mold you into a new Avenger. It’d worked for her, surely, it’d work for you too - she just needed time. Time that, while hesitant to do so, Steve eventually granted.

Natasha graciously took you under her wing and began teaching you about American culture and how to blend in for more than spy work.

Now, Natasha watches with furrowed brows as Wanda approaches you. She had her arms crossed tensely as you two came to a meet in the middle of the room. She watches you, her dear student, reach out, hesitating before softly taking Wanda by the shoulders and leaning in to gently kiss her left cheek, then right, then left again.

“Okay,” Natasha put up her hands, signaling the two to stop, “so, ученик, you see where you went wrong there? If Wanda’s a stranger, you wouldn’t kiss her on the cheeks, right?”

“Vanda is friend, no?” you gestured between you and the other woman.

“She is,” Natasha nodded before jabbing your forehead with her index finger, “but you need to pretend she isn’t, just for right now.”

Throwing your hands up in defeat, you huffed, “Vhat? I’m bad guy because zis is ridiculous?”

“No one’s trying to say you’re the bad guy,” Wanda gave you a smile and pat on the shoulder, “Just in need of a little more practice.”

“We should start working with accents,” Bucky pitches in for the first time since ‘American etiquette’ lessons began that day, “Her’s is a dead giveaway.”

Natasha nodded before glancing over at the clock, “I’m sure you’d love to do that one, big guy.”

“Why me?” Bucky sat up straighter - he was no good with one-on-one interactions unless they were fights, and with your upbringing in the Red Room, Bucky was certain you didn’t need any combat training.

“I’ve got a mission to get to with Wanda,” the assassin pat the man’s arm with a teasing grin, “So, unless you wanna see who else is available for that, just sit tight till we’re back.”

The two redheads were out before Bucky could even reply, a sigh leaving his lips at the new awkwardness of the situation. It wasn’t even his idea to be involved - he just got looped in because of his time with HYDRA. Which, in his opinion, was unfair - Natasha and Wanda were at least actually Eastern European, he was lumped in by association. He stood, beginning out of the common room with a nod for you to follow, muttering under his breath.

“If I may,” you interject, nearly rushing to keep up with Bucky’s hurried strides, “zat eh, Spider. Spider boy. Is only one home. Stark, maybe. But Spider, definitely”

“Parker…” the man takes a glance at you, trying to shove his disdain for the boy back, “Sure. He should be in the lab.”

It doesn’t take long to find Peter with Tony, Bucky knocking on the doorframe to catch both of their attention, “We need help teaching accents.”

“And articles,” Tony interjects, pushing a stool beside Peter’s and motioning for you to sit, “Unfortunately for you, lavalantula, it’s hard to take you seriously when you say things like ‘get in house’ like a cavewoman.”

“Mr. Stark- “

Before Peter has the chance to defend you, you’re quirking a brow at the man and putting your own two cents into his take, “In fairness, vhat idiot vould get in different house?”

“Accent and articles!” Peter claps, a forced smile bright on his lips, “Will do, Mr. Barnes, you can trust me.”

“I really don’t,” Bucky glares at the poor boy all while he leaves, “If she starts making references to your movies, I’ll personally bring you harm.”

“Opposed to what?” Peter murmured, “Impersonal harm?”

That brought a small laugh from between your lips, causing Peter to perk up once again at the positive attention. It isn’t every day he gets to make a former Russian assassin laugh, he supposes he should take it as a compliment.

He cleared his throat as Tony went about the lab, “Alright, I think that first we should start with articles.”

“Sounds pointless.”

“They kind of are, but we use them here, so…” he scratches at the back of his head, “How about we try making the ‘th’ sound first, sound good?”

“Not really.”

It was a few days with learning from Peter, but you’d felt as though so much progress was made towards the lessening of a Russian accent. Or maybe the praise that slipped from Peter’s lips just made the most minor step forward seem like a leap. The praise brought a new bubble of joy in your chest, one that was never there when Wanda, or the ever rare Natasha, complimented your work. Maybe it’s because Peter was born and raised in America that made it seem more valid - maybe it was his buzz and excitement at teaching. Maybe it was just him.

“Why don’t you try telling me about your day, to get used to speaking with what you learned so far?”

“Uh,” you fumbled, trying to translate the events in your head before speaking, “I woke up. I trained v- with Thor. Then he left for mission,” you paused, realizing your mistake and sighing.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Peter was quick to jump in when he assumed self-doubts were bubbling up, “You’ve got a lot of time to learn, don’t beat yourself up over a mistake. English is a pain in the ass to learn, you should be proud of yourself for picking it up so fast.”

“Yeah?” he could sense the hesitant disbelief in your voice.

Even so, he didn’t let up, giving a confident nod, “Yeah. Just start over whenever. You were doing really well.”

You took a moment to plan out the response in your head, running through it internally a few times before giving Peter a verbal run through, “I woke up. I trained with Thor. Then he left for a mission. I went to the lab. Now I’m here - with you.”

“See? You’re already doing so well, you should be proud. We can work on elongating sentences later down the line, but this is already pretty great!”

You take a moment, planning the pronunciation in your head before responding, “Thank you, Parker.”

“Peter,” he jumps to say, shrinking back slightly at his own eagerness, “Peter is fine, if you wanna call me that.”

“Piter,” you try the name on your tongue.

“I don’t think we’re saying it the same way,” he nods curtly, “but that’s okay! Doesn’t have to be perfect the first time.”

“I would like to try again,” you whisper his name to yourself a few times before repeating it aloud, “Peter…”

“Right! Wow, you’re so good at this already,” Peter turns to Tony, who’s doing a poor job of pretending he wasn’t listening to the pair, “Isn’t she smart, Mr. Stark?”

“Coming from you, kid? That’s a big compliment.”

“I think it’s well-deserved,” he gives you a chuckle, “I really mean it, you’re good at this and this is just a few days into working on your accent.”

“You think so?” there’s a wave of sheepishness that comes with Peter’s attention, with his wide-eyed, all-believing stares that leads you to scratch at the back of your neck, “Good. I would not enjoy to be a bother for long.”

“Not a bother, at all. I like spending time with you, even if it’s just to teach you about American accents.”

Tony closes his eyes and shakes his head, honestly not believing the words as they come out of his mouth, “You two live together, you could hang out whenever you want, kid.”

“Oh, yeah, huh?” Peter’s eyes seem to come alive again, “We should, then. Hang out, I mean. Outside of these accent lessons, unless you don’t want to.”

“No, no,” you feel a small, unfamiliar smile stretch over your own lips, “I vou- would. I would like that, very much.”

“Yep,” Tony slaps a stack of papers on the desk before beginning to make his exit, “Definitely have to work on those sentence frames, Captain Ivan.”

For the duration of Natasha’s absence, you’ve stopped coming to Bucky for lessons on Americanization. Sneaking off with Peter to the kitchen when you can.

"I used to think that melancholy was a vegetable."

"You're genius enough to catch Stark's attention, but thought melancholy was the name of vegetable?"

"Doesn't it sound like it though? Can you really tell me I'm wrong?"

"No, no, I can see it. Like celery and the uh, the one fruit. They had a baby."

"The one fruit?"

"The one, I forgot the word. Don't you have a word for дыня?"

"You do realize I have no idea what you just said, right?"

Sometimes to either of your rooms, or walking together around the perimeter of the building, or traversing through the little garden Wanda had been working hard on.

"Would you like some food? I'm ordering."

"I don't have any money, sorry."

"I did not ask if you had money, Peter. Do you want food or not?"

"But I can't pay you back and then I feel all icky on the inside part."

"Think of it as gift then, no paying back needed. Gift for being a good friend."

"Aw, you think I'm a good friend?"

"If I had to have a first friend, then I'm glad it was you. You're a good person, Peter. I'm glad we met."

"I'm really glad we met, too."

Little times set apart to spend time together that always begin as lessons.

"You ever heard of solipsism?"

"Maybe, what is it?"

"Uh, the belief that everything around you was created in your mind."

"Then yes, why, Peter?"

"Well, I just was thinking… You know, if everything around me is imaginary then you're the best thing I've ever come up with."

"Peter…"

"I'm sorry, was that too cheesy?"

"No, I just- it was really nice, actually. Thank you."

"Well, don't thank me, it's true."

Times that quickly morphed into discussions on Peter’s favorite movies or what little parts you miss of home.

"Would you ever go back? Like, to Russia?"

"Only if I had to. Too many poor memories there."

"What would be 'having to'?"

"If someone I really cared about needed me to. You or Natasha, mostly."

"You'd go back for me?"

"If you were in need of saving and I had to return to Russia to do it, yes, I'd go back."

"That's the sweetest thing I've ever heard."

"Peter, it is quite actually the bare minimum in terms of saving you."

Nobody expected it to last longer than the time that Natasha was gone - she was like a big sister to you, a safeplace when the Tower felt cold. So, when she came home and you didn’t re-glue yourself to her hip - people were quick to notice.

“I didn’t think Parker could get worse,” Sam noted under his breath, “But there he is, digging underneath the bar.”

Truly, Sam could’ve just looked away - but it was hard to do that when he was watching Peter fucking Parker, the littlest Avenger, try to win a game of footsies with you at the kitchen island. It’d be a cute sight if Sam weren’t the one having to see it.

“I’m staying out of it,” Bucky shook his head, staring down at the table as he pushed his food around his plate, “I haven’t been hungry since they got in here.”

Suddenly, Peter stands, “You’re low on coffee,” he points down at your mug before moving around the counter to the pot, “Do you want more? Just, while I’m up and here.”

“I hate that kid,” Sam shook his head, standing up and starting out of the kitchen, “I hope she rejects his ass.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Steve muttered, “In a way only an ex-Widow could manage.”

“She would’ve eaten him alive on the field, you know?” Bucky shook his head as he watched Peter contently refill your coffee and you give a rare smile only he and Natasha ever really knew, “I miss those days.”

“You try so hard to content me…” you begin, unaware of the conversation behind you, and tap your fingers on the counter’s marble, “Why?”

“You seem nice,” he shrugs, deflating when all you shoot him with in return is a skeptical look, “You do - you are. I like spending time with you.”

Before he can scold himself, you’re smiling again, patting his shoulder, “Thanks, Peter, you’re reassuring. I will be training with Nat if you need me.”

Peter expected a lot of things in his life - joint pain when he’s old, to be an Avenger with Mr. Stark, for missions to not always go perfectly, but gaining a crush on a girl who, admittedly, kind of intimidated him, wasn’t one of those things. But, also admittedly, it wasn’t entirely unwelcome, he’s noticed. He waits for Steve to make his exit before turning in his stool to face the only other man left in the room.

“Hey, Mr. Barnes?”

“Oh my- what?”

“You know Miss Romanoff, right?”

“Nat?”

“No, that’s Ms. Romanoff.”

“You mean ученик?”

“Sure, yeah, that’s what you guys call her.”

“Why are you calling her ‘Romanoff’, that’s not her last name at all.”

“No, but she’s like Ms. Romanoff's sister, or daughter, or something, so it fit. Anyway, do you know her?”

“Yes, Parker, obviously I know her.”

“Well, I think I may or may not like her like more than a friend, a lot, and I was wondering if you knew what she was into? Like date-wise… or gift-wise… or hey, even partner-wise, if she talks about that, ever.”

“She doesn’t and please don’t involve me in this. Go ask Nat.”

And so, Peter does ask Nat.

He makes up an excuse about wanting to be more agile on the field to drag her away from you before popping the question, “Do you think she likes me?”

Natasha doesn’t need clarification, she’s seen the way Peter looks at you whenever you’re around each other. It’s sweet. It’s like he’s seeing a full moon for the first time. He’s so attentive and soft towards you. Sure, the dynamic of a gentle-natured superhero from Queens and a Russian ex-Widow, current Avenger-in-training is a little strange, but she’s all for it if it means you’re happy. You’re like the little sister she so desperately wants back.

“She might,” the redhead shrugs, “Poor ученик isn’t so open with her feelings, kid. I can barely get her to open up about what she thought about dinner let alone her feelings towards the others,” when the boy’s face drops, she tilts him by the chin to meet her eyes, “That being said, I’ll talk to her. She’s a lot nicer to you than she is with the rest of the team so I wouldn’t kill that hope so fast.”

Peter barely manages to smother down a smile before nodding, giving an awkward thumbs up, and racing back down the hall, a “Thanks, Ms. Romanoff!” echoing after him.

Nat purses her lips in thought of who could be able to help her. Who was nosy enough and bothersome enough to try and set up two teenagers?

“Hey,” Tony pointed to the group of Natasha, Wanda, Bucky, and yourself on the couch, “Red Scare, in the training room.”

“Vh- Which one of us are you referring to?”

The man simply tapped the door frame with a nod, “Five minutes or I’m docking your missions.”

“He can’t do that,” Bucky shook his head, eyes narrowing as realization sat in, “Can he?”

And so, in under five minutes, the quartet found themselves in the training room with Tony.

“Underoos needs some training with fighting tactics known to HYDRA - so, who here wants to be the helpful little hero to do that?”

You look between the others, quirking a brow and shaking your head, “HYDRA is not a hub of top secret fighting techniques, it would be like pairing Peter with anybody else.”

“Sounds like you need to get familiar with other fighting styles then,” Natasha tuts, “I’ve let you off too easy just training with me.”

“I literally fight Steve and Thor all the time, there isn’t much difference just because he’s American,” you narrow your eyes at the woman, “If you both are up to something just admit it now.”

“No, no, there’s definitely a difference,” Bucky pitches in - though clearly not content with being roped into the mess of getting Parker a girlfriend, “He’s all in-your-face and forceful, you’re more like sneak-and-stab.”

“Because I am spy and he is fighter!” you shout, looking to Wanda with wide eyes, “Am I being the specific one? I feel as though I am not being the specific one.”

Wanda feels guilt run through her veins as she shrugs, actively knowing she’s aiding in tricking you, “You should give it a try. For comparison reasons.”

“You’re all making me feel crazy and I do not like it, I am at least a little certain this is a form of manipulation.”

“You’re a spy, you should be able to tell,” Bucky pats your back, “Anyway, I’m busy - you have to fight the kid.”

“Vision and I had a dinner reservation,” Wanda ducks out of the room quickly.

Tony points at you with raised brows, “You got it then, Xenia Onatopp?”

“I- “ you sigh and throw your hands up in defeat, “I suppose I do.”

A few minutes later, Peter is shoved into the training room while you stuff on a pair of gloves - eyes sliding over to the doorway to look at his jumpy form. You scoff, “They are up to something and I feel like I know what.”

“What? What - what do you mean?” Peter nervously crosses his arms and tilts his head, “Up to what?”

“Peter,” you raise a brow at him in question, “do you expect me to believe you are dumb? They are making us spend time together like this, what could that possibly mean?”

His mouth opens and closes, eyes avoiding your gaze like it’s deadly, “Who knows, honestly?”

Shaking your head, you begin removing your gloves, “Okay then, do not talk to me until you are ready to tell the truth.”

“Wait!” Peter latches onto your hand as you pass him by the doorway, “Wait, wait, wait… I- I’m sorry. I just really like you and so I asked Ms. Romanoff for help and I didn't think that she’d team up with Mr. Stark because nothing really good comes from Mr. Stark meddling in things other than tech and saving the world, but she did and they did this. I would’ve said something but you’re just really cool and I was scared you wouldn’t like me back so I tried to see if Ms. Romanoff could test the waters for me.”

“You see where that was a mistake, right?” you reach up, brushing your hand through Peter’s bangs, “I do like you, Peter. A lot. So I would appreciate you being upfront with me rather than looking through Natasha for answers.”

“Right, and I’m sorry- “

“Was honest mistake, Peter, do not worry any longer.”

“Are you sure?”

“Would not have said so if I wasn’t. I do not like your worry.”

Peter wrought his hands together, lips pursed, "Can we not pretend to train and just hang out then?"

"Are you certain you do not want me to kick your ass?"

“Well, now that you said that I feel pressure to prove that you won’t,” Peter shook his head and sighed, “I’m okay with taking a loss today.”

“You didn’t even try, didn’t even initiate.”

“So I’m the bad guy cuz I don’t wanna get my ass kicked, okay,” the boy sarcastically muttered before laying his back against the wall and sliding down to the floor, “Hey, you’re bilingual, right?” at your nod of confirmation, he continued, “What language do you think in? Russian?”

You pondered the question before shrugging, “I’m not even sure I think.”

---

“So,” Natasha looks between the two, “how was the training?”

“Awful,” Peter shakes his head, “Hated it.”

“Right… and you, ученик?”

You look over to Peter, his subtle grin and fidgety movements, before shrugging, “He’s a child,” you sigh, “Terrible.”

“Oh, is that so?” Natasha squints between the two of you.

You both nod in unison, “Definitely.”

“Anyway,” you cut in quickly, “we are off to ask Thor to let us try and lift Mjolnir. Please, don’t meddle in teenagers who have will-they-won’t-they scenarios, just let us be awkward about it.”

“What she said,” Peter grinned broadly before gently tapping his finger against your hand and withholding a small cheer when you intertwined your hand with his and led him through the halls to find Thor.

He was almost scared how much he enjoyed the feeling of your hand in his, something so small and inconsequential and yet it made his heart flutter all the same.

“This is nice,” he lifts up your hands briefly.

“I would hope so,” you tease, “I like it, though, is cute, no?”

“It is. Definitely is. I think so.”

“I do, too. We should do it more often.”

[thinkingaboutyoungroyals]

Falling For You But You Are Worlds Away: Chapter 3

A/N: I had a day off from school and finished some of my homework so I had some time to write. Please don't expect this consistency, it's a rare occurrence lol

AO3

Simon’s stomach was in knots all day. Several times, he felt the urge to rush to the restroom and throw up.

His first couple of days in New York went fine. His aunt and cousin showed him around all the tourist areas, bought him souvenirs, and took him to their favorite restaurants. He even got a picture with Elmo at Times Square. (Why were there so many Sesame Street characters?!) They also got him a new phone number, showed him how to navigate the bus and the subway, and talked to him in English so he could practice.

Simon’s English wasn’t terrible, per se. He grew up watching shows and movies in English with Swedish subtitles. And he didn’t do too bad in his English classes. But, he never had to speak it 24/7 before.

So, when he walked into his new school with Ana, he was immediately bombarded with all the English words, phrases, and slang – it all made his head swirl. Ana introduced him to some people she knew, they spoke to him in English, and he stumbled through his answers. And, sadly, because Ana was a grade ahead of him, he was left alone to fend for himself when it came to time to go to classes.

He did manage to fake confidence, introducing himself to his classmates and answering a few questions. He could follow the lessons just fine and answered when called upon by teachers (except in American History, he definitely needed help there). But, for the most part, he stayed quiet.

At lunch, he sat with Ana, who introduced him to her friends. All three were girls. Two of them were Latina, Alicia and Luz, and one girl was white, Elizabeth (“You can call me, Liz,” she told him). They spoke to each other in Spanish (even Liz) and it was the first time all day that Simon felt the unease in him boil down to a simmer. It was still there but hearing the familiar language was a comfort.

And he now knew why Ana insisted they packed lunch – the school’s food didn’t look that appetizing. Even Hillerska had better food. (And thinking of Hillerska made him think of Wille, which just made him feel depressed again.)

When his last class of the day finally dismissed them, Simon was ready to go home and take a nap. He was exhausted – physically and mentally. But, Ana had other plans.

“Hello, everyone! As you can see, we have someone new joining us today!”

She gestured to him with a flourish and Simon blushed in embarrassment as many eyes focused on him – curious and interested.

“This is my cousin, Simon, he just moved here from Sweden. I hope everyone makes him feel welcomed. Please don’t scare him off.”

Simon awkwardly shuffled his feet as he waved. “Um… Hi… Um… I’m Simon. Sorry, uh, my English isn’t very good. But, I’m practicing.”

He was met with silent nods and Simon almost sighed in relief. Almost.

“You look familiar!” A guy with long blonde hair piped up from the back.

Simon’s stomach churned and he wanted to run away. No one was supposed to know who he was. They reassured him that the whole thing died down fairly quickly in America. How many of these kids have watched the video?! Did they know who he was as soon as he walked in?!

“You look like a Spanish version of Nick Jonas!” continued the guy.

The churning calmed a little.

Ana glared, placing her fists against her hips. “Shut up, Darren. Simon is not the Spanish version of anyone.” She paused and glanced at him. “But, if he is, he would be Harry Styles.”

“It’s the curls!” a girl with dark hair with pink tips called out with a grin. “They’re really cute!”

Before he knew what was happening, Simon was bombarded with compliments about his hair and face. He could swear he had never been as red in his entire as he was in that moment.

Soon, a different guy stepped up, willing everyone to calm down with his hands. “Okay, everyone, stop simping over Ana’s cousin. It’s time to start the meeting! We have a lot to talk about today!”

Ana nudged Simon and gestured with her head to the back of the classroom. Simon followed her. She took a seat next to the window. The empty seat beside her was across from the guy who spoke up earlier.

As the guy at the front (“That’s Dominic, he’s the president of GSA,” Ana had whispered to him) began to go over the agenda for the day, the guy next to Simon leaned over.

“Hey, I’m Darren,” he whispered with a toothy grin. “I’m your resident pansexual.”

Simon bit his lip and whispered back. “Simon. Do we… have to share our sexuality here?”

Darren chuckled and shook his head. “Nah, you’re not obligated to. Some people are here just as allies but a couple do end up figuring themselves out. So we tend not to label or share labels. But, I don’t give a shit, I want everyone to know they have an equal chance of dating me. So, that includes you.”

He winked and Simon, to his horror, felt himself blush again. He was just gonna end up looking like a tomato by the time he returned to Sweden if he kept this up.

“Darren! Anything you wanna share with the class?”

“Nope, prez. Just welcoming our new member. Please proceed, you know we love listening to your gorgeous voice.”

Dominic raised an eyebrow at him before getting back to what he was saying.

“I’ll get you to say ‘yes’ to me, eventually,” Darren muttered under his breath.

Simon couldn’t stop a chuckle from leaving his lips. Darren flashed him a grin and, for what it was worth, Simon finally felt a bit at ease.

He snuck a look at Ana, who caught his eye and smiled, encouragingly.

Maybe she was right. He could meet new people here and make new friends. Maybe, for just a few months, he could forget everything that happened in Sweden and just be... back to normal.

He was willing to try. If only this empty feeling inside him would go away.

.........

If Wilhelm thought that Christmas break without Simon was bad, being at school for a month without Simon was worse. Everywhere he looked and turned, he half expected Simon to be there, looking at his phone or eating a clementine or flashing Wilhelm a smile that made his cute dimples appear.

More times than he could count, Wilhelm had run after Sara, practically begging her for any information on Simon. The girl always refused him.

“Give her time,” Felice said to him one day after another failed attempt. “She loves her brother and she’s on his side.”

“I just want another chance to apologize,” said Wilhelm. “I want to make things right. And I want to at least be friends with him again.”

Felice wrapped an arm around him. “You will. Just give it time, okay?”

Wilhelm had agreed, if only to reassure himself that he was going to be fine. Maybe the longing would stop. Maybe he would wake up one day and just accept the fact that Simon was no longer in his life.

He knew it was all a big fat lie but it was okay to dream, right?

Which was why he decided to take his chances that one Saturday. Students were allowed to leave the school grounds on weekends to visit the town, if they so pleased, so Wilhelm took advantage of that. With Johan driving and Malin in the passenger’s seat, they left Hillerska for the day and headed to Bjarstard.

His stomach was filled with butterflies. Excitement or nerves, he wasn’t sure. Maybe it was both. He ran over various things to say in his head. But, when they pulled up in front of the familiar one-story home, he forgot it all.

Nevertheless, he raised his chin and marched with determination to the front door. He hoped Simon was home. That Wilhelm could finally see him. That they could finally talk. He just hoped he wasn’t overstepping any boundaries, that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Clearing his throat, he raised a fist and knocked, firmly and loudly, against the door. It took a minute but, eventually, it slowly opened, very slowly.

Linda peeked out, looking wary and cautious. But, when she saw Wilhelm, the guarded look switched to surprise.

“Wil… Your Royal Highness,” she greeted with a slight bow of her head.

Wilhelm hated it. He preferred Linda’s casual treatment of him as if he was any other kid. He supposed he didn’t deserve that anymore after what he did to her son.

“Wilhelm, please,” he said to her, managing a small smile. “Hello, Linda.”

The woman smiled, fondly, and she opened the door a bit wider. “Hello, Wilhelm. How are you, cariño?”

The gentler tone eased his worries.

“I’m… fine.” He cleared his throat. “Um… Is Simon home?”

Linda’s smile disappeared. “Why?” she asked.

Wilhelm flinched, hating that the guardedness in her voice was back. “I just want to talk to him. He left Hillerska and I… I just want to apologize again and… Please.”

He must have looked rather pitiful because he could practically see Linda’s resolve melting. She stared at him for the longest time, contemplating. Finally, she nodded and let him in.

Wilhelm’s heart skipped a beat and he had to hold himself back from running in and calling out Simon’s name. Malin, dutifully, followed behind him, shut the door, and stood guard.

“You can head on to the living room,” said Linda. “I’ll make us some tea.”

Wilhelm nodded and did exactly that. He made himself comfortable on the lumpy couch and looked around. The place looked neat and chaotic as always. A basket of Simon’s favorite, clementines, was placed at the center of the coffee table. He once told Wilhelm that it was the one fruit he couldn’t live without.

Then, he spotted a new addition against the wall that led towards the bedrooms. Well, not new per se but it was no longer in Simon’s room. (And, thinking of Simon’s room led him down a path of memories that made the longing in him increase tenfold. Where was Simon? Was he out for the day? Wilhelm would wait until night if he had to.)

“Here we are.”

Linda arrived with a tray filled with two mugs of tea and a plate of cookies. She placed it on the coffee table before handing one of the mugs to Wilhelm.

“Thank you,” he said taking it and looking back at the fish tank that was now placed against the wall. “Why did Simon move his fish out here?”

Linda, who was in the middle of placing the plate of cookies on the table, looked up towards the tank. A sad smile graced her lips.

“Well, I have to remember to feed them now so it’s easier if I see them,” she said, picking up her own mug and settling on the couch.

Wilhelm frowned, confused. “Why do you have to feed them? Doesn’t Simon do that?”

Linda looked at him for a moment, sad again, and took a sip of tea before placing the mug on the table. She tugged her wool sweater tighter around herself and crossed her arms at her stomach.

“Wilhelm,” she began. “I want you to know that… I’m not angry with you, okay? And, I’m sure that Simon isn’t either.”

Wilhelm’s stomach churned and he took a polite sip of the tea before following Linda’s lead and placed the mug on the table.

“What happened to both of you… you don't deserve it.” She reached out, probably to touch his hair, but refrained at the last minute. Instead, she patted his shoulder and pulled her hand back.

Wilhelm longed for her motherly touch.

“But, as a parent, I had to protect Simon.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and brought a hand up to rub at his tightening chest. He didn't like her tone. It was foreboding. The gentle calm before the storm.

Linda’s eyes flickered to his hand and scooted closer. She placed a gentle hand on his cheek. Wilhelm leaned into it.

“Wilhelm… cariño… Simon left Sweden.”

Wilhelm’s world crashed.

“There were stalkers, they kept following him home. And the reporters wouldn’t stop asking him questions and one day… he got hurt.”

The tightening in his chest wouldn’t let up and he rubbed harder.

“I had no other choice. I had to send him away for his own safety.”

Stalkers... Reporters... Simon got hurt because of him. And, now, he was gone. No longer in Sweden.

“W-Where?” he managed to ask.

But, Linda shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you.”

Wilhelm’s eyes stung. “L-Linda… I-I’m s-sorry… I’m so… s-so sorry…”

Finally… Finally… Linda moved closer and pulled him into a hug. Wilhelm couldn’t help himself. He hugged her back and cried into her sweater.

She rubbed his back, whispering, “I know. It’s okay to cry, Wille. It’s okay.”

Wilhelm didn’t know how long he cried but, at some point, he did calm down. Maybe it was because Linda started humming a nice melody to him. Or maybe he was just spent and tired. But, not once did Linda let him go. Despite everything, she still chose to comfort him.

He had to force himself to move away from her arms, guilty and grateful at the same time.

She smiled at him. “Feeling better?” she asked.

God, it reminded him so much of Simon always asking after him that he wanted to cry again. It was clear to see that Simon got his gentle kindness from his mother.

“Yes,” he croaked. “Thank you.”

She picked up his mug and handed it over with a pointed look. He obediently drank the now lukewarm tea. It did little to soothe his sadness, but it was still nice.

“He won’t be gone forever,” said Linda with a smile. “When this all dies down… when the country forgets and moves on to something new, he’ll come back. Just… for now… I need him safe in a place where no one knows him. It’s what’s best for him.”

It made perfect sense. But, it didn’t mean that Wilhelm liked it. Simon was further away from him than ever. At least, if he was still Bjarstard, Wilhelm could still visit. He could still try to rebuild their friendship. And, when he was finally ready, he could ask Simon to give him another chance.

But, now, Wilhelm didn’t even know where he was. And Linda clearly didn’t want to tell him, worried she was about Simon’s safety. (A part of him wondered if she was also protecting Simon from Wilhelm. That thought hurt but it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.)

“Would you like to stay for lunch?” Linda asked. “It’s kind of lonely with just me now, with Sara at Hillerska and Simon...” She trailed off and sighed.

Wilhelm pressed his lips together. “I don’t want to impose.”

She patted his arm and offered a smile. “Not at all. Your bodyguards can join us, too. I have plenty. I’m still not used to eating alone.”

The temptation was too good to resist. Besides, he didn’t want to return to Hillerska and suffer through a meal where August only sat a couple of chairs away, always wanting to talk to him even though Wilhelm never responded.

“Alright,” he agreed, smiling back.

Linda beamed and stood up. “Okay, good. I’m almost done cooking. Make yourself at home.”

“Can I… Can I feed Simon’s fish?” he asked, nervously.

Linda chuckled. “Of course. Their food is right on top. You can just move the cover. Simon says four shakes is enough.”

With one last smile at him, she gathered up their mugs (she left the cookies on the table) and headed off to the kitchen. He heard her extend the invitation to Malin, who thanked her and promised to call Johan in.

Pulling himself together, Wilhelm stood up and approached the fish tank. A small container labeled “fish food” in Simon’s familiar print was on top. He picked it up before carefully moving the cover to the side. He counted out four shakes and watched as the little bits of food floated down towards Olle, Oski, Felle, and a fourth fish whose name Simon never told him (because Wilhelm had distracted him enough to forget).

“I miss him,” he whispered, watching them eat. “I bet you, guys, do too, right?”

The fish ignored him.

Were they mad at him, he wondered? Did they know what he did? Did Simon cry in front of them?

Sighing, Wilhelm put the cover back and the fish food on top of it. Then, he headed off to the kitchen to help Linda set the table.

It was the least he could do.

...

A/N: Yes, I went back to watch the scene and counted Simon's fish lol

[platypanthewriter]

Unless...? (Ch. 8)

Previous | Fic Masterlist

Steve Harrington wants to be best friends with Billy Hargrove.  He wants to marry him–as friends–so they’ll always be together, and he’s going crazy, trying not to be weird about it, and scare Billy off.  Also he’s in a band, and they run a bar.Billy’s buckling under an onslaught of friendly Harrington flirtation.  Also he’s just been hired as the new bartender. For Day 2 of Febuwhump, “I can’t take this anymore.”

In this chapter:  Billy's pretty drunk when he comes back to Steve's hotel room, and he wants to see Steve wear the thongs. 

Billy eventually hauled Steve back out of the bathroom—Steve was content to stand there forever, with Billy’s earnest, alcohol-redolent breath in his face, listening to him proclaim his undying affection—but Billy yanked his arm. “Come on,” he slurred. “Max’s gonna...give up on us.” Steve splashed some water on his hot face, and then trotted after his fiance.

“Did you just bone my brother on the bathroom counter,” Max asked crisply, not looking up from her menu as they approached the table.

“You know it,” Billy said, laughing, and squeezed Steve’s hand.

“Fuck no, that counter’s covered in like ten layers of old hand soap,” Steve said, making a face. “Billy deserves better than old hand soap.”

“Like the alley out back,” Billy muttered, dropping into the booth, and Steve sat too close, elbowing him.

“Like a honeymoon suite,” he countered, and got to hear Max and her brother groan, and watch Billy’s ears turn even redder.

“So I hear Steve has been proposing for like. Months,” she told Billy, who glared at Steve. “You never said a word.”

“He was letting me pine,” Steve said, grabbing the soju away as Billy poured more, and tossing it back.

“Yeah, no more for you,” Max said, grabbing the bottle, and filling her cup. “How come you were still dating that shithead, then?”

“Not enough brain cells,” Billy sighed, and Steve slid an arm around him, then pressed his luck, and a kiss to Billy’s temple, feeling it heat.

“We’re hoping our combined six brain cells are a little smarter,” Steve told Max, and she snorted a laugh—and then smiled a little softer, he thought, watching Billy as he leaned into Steve’s shoulder with a grumbly noise like a drunken bear.

“Thank you,” she mouthed, silently, and Steve flushed. “Be good to him or I’ll kill you,” she added, in a creepily sibilant whisper, and Billy mumbled inquiringly. Steve hugged his head, nodding back at her.

Steve had to half-heft Billy into his hotel room that night, full of barbequed meat and more liquor than was good for either of them, and then help him undress, sliding his hands down Billy’s ass and thighs to get his too-tight jeans off, and crouching between Billy’s knees to pull at his boots. Billy dropped back onto the mattress with a long sigh, and then Steve had to haul him back upright to tug at the buttons on his sleeves, and run his hands over the muscles of Billy’s shoulders to push the shirt off them. He kept pausing to look at Billy’s tattoos, or a couple times because the feel of Billy’s skin was distracting, warm, muscled, a little hairy on his arms and legs, and softer over his stomach and ass. Billy curled away from Steve’s hands on his abs.

“Quit it,” he mumbled. “You don’t care if I do my crunches, right, if I’m not...cut,” and Steve shook his head, running his knuckles over the soft curls that crept out of Billy’s pajama pants toward his bellybutton.

“Nah, you’re perfect,” he said honestly. “You’d be perfect if you turned into that blueberry from the Willy Wonka movie, y’know.”

“...s’weird you don’t give a shit,” Billy sighed, his whole body flushed with alcohol as he watched Steve’s knuckles stroke his side softly.

“If you’re too pretty, people are gonna keep following you home,” Steve told him. “And what if I just like, see you when I’m onstage, and I drop my guitar?”

Billy burst into cackling laughter, his eyes wide. “You think I’m pretty?” he asked breathlessly, and Steve snorted a laugh.

“I have eyes, man,” he told him, and Billy’s smile widened, lazy and delighted.

“You think I’m pretty,” he mumbled, still giggling.

“Of course I do,” Steve told him, reaching up to tuck Billy’s hair behind his ear, and cupping his warm, stubbly cheek to feel him smile. “You’d probably look way better in those thongs,” he sighed. “I look like a moron who forgot to wash his own underwear. Or like, those bastards at the laundromat, you know, that just steal whatever, and you’re like ‘what the hell did you want with one of every sock’.”

“Y-you put them on,” Billy choked out, pushing himself back upright to stare at Steve’s face, and Steve scrambled back, licking his lips. “You wore them?!”

“Uh,” Steve said, his cheeks heating. “I mean, just—just in case you were serious, I wanted it to fit.”

“...I wanna see,” Billy said, drunk and sincere, and Steve couldn’t believe those wide, hazy eyes were lying to him.

He grimaced. “Whatever you’re imagining, it’s probably gonna look more stupid than that.”

“It’s gonna be a religious experience,” Billy said, patting around the bed for his phone, and Steve groaned, rubbing his face.

“Why don’t you wear ‘em,” he tried, “—if you like the damn things so much.”

“You said,” Billy huffed, still slapping the bed for his phone, and pouting, so Steve sighed, grabbed Billy’s phone, slapped it into his outstretched hand, and dropped his pants. Billy made a noise like he’d swallowed a leaking helium balloon, and Steve heard the camera shutter noise.

“You send anybody that picture and I’ll—” break your face, was Steve’s first thought, but then he remembered Billy’s bruises. “—I’ll order pineapple and anchovies on every pizza for the next year.”

“...hurting yourself to hurt me,” Billy huffed.

“I can gag it down,” Steve told him triumphantly, and yanked his briefs off, to another strangled sound from Billy, and more shutter noises. “...I mean it, though, don’t send blackmail pictures to Robin.”

“...blackmail pictures,” Billy said weakly, as Steve set his jaw, closed his eyes, and pulled on the blue thong. His t-shirt partly covered it, thank god, he thought, because his dick was aware there was somebody on his bed even if Billy was a dude, and the friction of the satin was weird, so he had kind of the beginning of a hard-on. He sighed. Billy swallowed, his throat clicking like he needed something to drink. “...take the t-shirt off,” he whispered, and Steve stared back at him.

“Seriously?! You can see how it fits!”

“Come on,” Billy whispered, and Steve groaned, but yanked his t-shirt over his head to more shutter noises. He tried to ignore his stupid cock thinking fancy underwear meant anything on him, and stared past Billy at the ugly 80’s pink and grey motel art. “...you look like somebody’s pulling your teeth,” Billy said.

“...the hell you want,” Steve gritted out. “I look like an idiot.”

“Well, they got me to fucking...agree to marry you, right, you could look like it wasn’t the shittiest day of your life,” Billy said, glowering at his phone, and Steve sighed.

“Okay, what then? Should I like. Pose,” he asked, flexing half-heartedly, and Billy took a weird jerky breath.

“...you really...think you look bad in those,” he rasped out, and Steve snorted a laugh, frowning down.

“I’ve got elastic up my ass,” he said, squirming. “I’m not even sure how I thought they were sexy on women anymore, jesus.”

“You look like a centerfold,” Billy said hoarsely, and Steve—who’d spent nearly a year wondering whether he wanted to be around Billy or just be Billy—felt better instantly.

“...really?!” Steve asked, staring down at his untanned (compared to Billy’s) stomach, and his uninked arms. “...yeah, I’m hot, right?” he asked, laughing with relief. “I know I’m hot, huh, not everybody can look like you.” He twisted his body into a tits-and-ass superheroine pose, pursing his lips at Billy, who made a noise in his throat like he was dying. Steve snickered, and stuck his arm out and up to the side like he was Superman. “Truth, justice, and the American way,” he said, and Billy snorted a high-pitched laugh.

He’d half-covered his face, but he was still snapping pictures, and Steve couldn’t help wanting him to laugh harder, because Billy was cute, pink-cheeked with drink, giggling. Steve spread his arms, hearkening back to a long-ago role in the school production of My Fair Lady. “I have often slept/in this room before,” he began, throwing his arms wide, “—but the carpet always stayed beneath my feet before. All at once am IIIII/several stories hiiiiiigh/knowing I’m in the room where you aaaaare—” he sang, and Billy burst out laughing, letting himself fall backwards on the bed cackling, his hands over his face.

Steve climbed up on the bed again, sitting on Billy’s legs like they were five, and kept going. “AND OHHHHHH, THE TOWERING FEELING,” he belted out, “—JUST TO KNOOOOW/SOMEHOW YOU ARE NEAR—”

Billy shoved at him, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe, and turning a little to bury his face in the pillows.

Steve beamed, taking a quick breath. “THE OHHHHVERPOWERING FEELING/THAT ANY SECOND YOU MAY SUDDENLY APPEAR—” he paused, because the neighbors were banging on the walls again, and put his hands on his hips.

“Oh my god,” Billy wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Stop, stop, before they throw us out, jesus christ you fucking loon.”

“Maybe they prefer Elton John,” Steve said thoughtfully, opening his mouth to try some of Your Song, and Billy tackled him to the bed, both hands over Steve’s mouth, which was suddenly kind of awkward, as Steve remembered he was wearing only a thong. He tried to sort of hum that he was disarmed and un-dangerous, but Billy glowered suspiciously, leaning harder to hold his hands over Steve’s mouth, his mouth still quirked as he shook a little with suppressed snickering.

Steve tried not to squirm. Billy’s pajama pants were soft and thin, and Steve could feel thigh muscles through them. Billy’s butt hovered right over his dick, barely bound by the scrap of satin and lace, and it was hard to think of anything but that couple of inches of space between Billy feeling safe as friends, and finding out Steve got idiotically turned on by people thinking he was funny and hot.

Billy was panting, still out of breath from laughing, his chest and abs flexing right before Steve’s eyes, so he closed them, feeling the heat spread over his face. “You gonna behave?” he hissed, and Steve considered shaking his head, so Billy would just...stay on top of him, maybe, maybe fell asleep there, while Steve spent an agonizing night trying not to squirm and Billy breathed contentedly into his neck.

He nodded, instead, and Billy pushed himself up to stretch.

“You’re insane,” he commented.

“Everybody serenades fiances,” Steve said indignantly. “I could read you poetry instead.”

“Holy fuck, no,” Billy hissed, reaching to slap a hand over Steve’s face again, and Steve kissed his hand. He snatched it back like Steve had burned him, swinging his leg off Steve to curl his whole body into the pillows, groaning. “Why are you like this,” he sighed, still laughing.

“You love me,” Steve pointed out, biting his lip uncertainly, and Billy sighed again.

“Yeah.”

Steve dropped down next to him, his shoulder against Billy’s back, and imagined he and Billy in their suits. “We got a fitting tomorrow,” he said softly. “For the suits.”

“...yeah, I know,” Billy said, leaning back against him. “You gonna wear the blue thong? Something borrowed and everything?”

Steve laughed. “Oh. I was thinking white lace. Weddings. Y’know.”

“You...thought about it,” Billy mumbled.

“Dude, I’ve done nothing but think about it,” Steve told him, pushing himself up on his elbows. “I keep thinking you’re gonna say it was all a joke. Thongs, seriously? I’ll wear ‘em every damn day if it keeps you around, man.”

“...bro,” Billy said, laughing into his pillow with kind of a whine.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, grimacing. He swung his legs off the bed, and grabbed his jeans off the floor. “I’m gonna shower,” he told Billy, who was sounding sleepy, and saw what was probably a nod.

In the bathroom, he stared at himself in the mirror again, and felt less shitty about being a man in satin and lace, because really, people could just...wear things, he figured, it wasn’t like the fabric cared. Billy’d looked happy as he laughed, and Steve smiled at the thought, and flexed again in the mirror. He was half-tempted to get a little apron or something and make Billy laugh his ass off again.

His dick still hadn’t gotten the message that it wouldn’t be getting any action, and he tried to ignore it fully peeking over the top of the elastic, and the damp spot from his reaction to getting thrown down on a bed. It’d be actually and metaphorically hard to sleep next to Billy without taking care of it, though, and he let himself thumb over the tip, biting back a groan, and trying not to think anything weird about Billy’s weight on him, or the muscles of his forearms as he held Steve down by the face.

He reminded himself of Tommy shoving his hand away, and stalking out of his life, and tried to think about tits as he climbed in the shower, his shoulders hunched.

The feeling wasn’t really the same, he told himself—he knew what he was feeling, watching a woman squeeze into a dress, and thinking about peeling her out of it, but it’d never been clear, as he tried to dress up like Han Solo, what exactly he wanted—to kiss him, or be him, or just be...as cool as him, or maybe just to have a janky spaceship to share with his very best friend.

He peeled out of the thong, his cheeks burning, and stepped into the shower, soaping his hand up. It only took a few yanks before he came over his fingers, thinking annoyingly neither of Billy nor an anonymous woman’s mouth, but ofTommy, how he’d shoved Steve against the doorjamb, and said “Yeah, why shouldn’t I go over to Carol’s again? What you got that’s better than her, huh?”

Steve had been bewildered when Tommy started yanking at his pants, but also drunk, and horny from the porn. The woman onscreen was still panting and begging, her tits jiggling, and it was hot with the heat of an Indiana summer, but their beers were cold. The sound of distant frogs nearly drowned out the grunting on the screen. Tommy’s hands were hot and tight, and at nineteen it didn’t take much. Steve’d woken deep under the surface of a hangover, looking around at his limp, sticky cock half out of his pants, and taken a shower before he even remembered what had happened the night before.

Tommy’d never picked up his calls again.

It hadn’t even been his idea, Steve didn’t think, scrubbing at his hair as his brain went over the familiar ground—Tommy’d yanked at his jeans, while Steve stared like a drunk idiot. He tried to remember—again—whether he’d leaned in too far, or seemed too willing, and growled, sticking his head under the showerhead.

After he towelled off, he slid into bed behind Billy, and slid an arm around him. Billy snorted powerfully, smacking his lips, and rolled over to grapple Steve in closer, smacking a kiss to Steve’s jaw. “...love...babe,” he mumbled, nuzzling his head into Steve’s neck, and tossing a thigh over his legs.

Steve lay motionless, his heart pounding, staring at the ceiling.

In the morning, Billy insisted they couldn’t be fitted together, and see each other before the wedding. Then he drove home.

After the gig the next night, Steve drove home after him. He slowed as he passed Billy’s apartment, but it was four-fifteen in the morning, and he was pretty sure that was grounds for divorce.

He couldn’t stop grinning, and typing text drafts to Billy he didn’t send, and checking the time, so finally he just cleaned—he scrubbed the whole fridge, and pulled all the popsicles and discount steak out to defrost the freezer. If he’d been female, he thought, with kind of a shivery feeling in his stomach, he’d have eaten the popsicles when Billy was over—just sucked them down until he gave himself brain freeze, leaning his head back so Billy could see the muscles working in his cheeks and throat. Steve bit his lips together, sighing, and gripped the counter, wishing the stupid, useless image wasn’t stuck in his head.

The sheets smelled kinda stale, so he washed them, and put another load of laundry in, before checking the time again, seeing it was too early to take Billy any breakfast, and flopping face-first on the couch with a groan.

He awoke to his phone ringing, and answered in a grunted slur of syllables even he couldn’t identify. It was Joyce Byers’ voice, he registered, his brain feeling like its tires were spinning in mud.

“Billy’s sick,” she told him. “He sounds awful. He’s by himself.”

“Enh,” Steve said. “Grungh.”

“...I thought you might be on the road,” she said. “Weren’t you coming back today?”

“M’I’m,” Steve mumbled, and rolled half on his side to prop himself up. “M’here. Drove...las’night.”

“Sorry to wake you, sweetie,” she said, sounding suspiciously like she was laughing. “He’s just as impatient to see you, hon. That’s why I called. He was smiling all night. I had to pinch his pink cheeks.”

“...my pink cheeks,” Steve muttered indignantly, and she laughed again.

“Go take him some cold medicine, okay? Maybe something hot to eat?”

Steve slapped his face a few times to try and get his brain back online, blinked, and frowned worriedly. “Is—is he okay?”

“Sounds like a question for the man himself. We’ve got this, if you don’t want to come in tonight,” she said. “Tell him not to worry about anything, and feel better!”

“O-okay,” Steve said, nodding.

“Make him take a nap too, sweetie,” she said, and hung up. Steve blinked at his phone, and then called Billy.

He didn’t answer.

Steve grimaced, sat down to work on the chords for his nearly-finished song, couldn’t focus, and cleaned the garage. He tried again an hour later, and got no response, so he waited a couple more hours, did all the dishes, and scrubbed the stove.

He kept thinking about being sick, and he started to want soup, so he rummaged through his cupboards, and then pulled out the cookbook Joyce had helped him pick out when he first started living on his own. It had chicken soup in it, and Steve studied the ingredients carefully, jotting them down.

When he got to the part of the recipe that said ‘if using noodles, add them now,’ he stalled out, staring helplessly. He side-eyed the phone, and didn’t call again—Billy was probably asleep, he reminded himself, and there Steve was, waking him up every god damn hour.

He went out and bought sick-person groceries—the soup ingredients, obviously. Kleenex, benadryl, cough syrup, cough drops—and popsicles in case Billy had a sore throat. He got two whole boxes, resolutely not thinking about either of them actually eating them. He got a loaf of bread to slice for thick crunchy toast, and a carton of eggs to soft-boil. He threw some fluffy slippers by the register in, and then circled around again when he remembered tea.

When he knocked on Billy’s door, he kept it fairly quiet, and busied himself setting up a bag with all the things Billy might want—there was no point in giving a sick person the raw carrots for the chicken soup. Just as he was trying to remember whether Billy had a toaster oven, the door opened, and Billy stared down at him, wrapped in a blanket. His nose and lips were red, chapped and peeling.

“Sorry I woke you up, I’ll go away,” Steve told him, standing up, and grabbing both bags of groceries. “But I just need to ask, rice or noodles?”

“Why are you going away,” Billy croaked.

“I, um,” Steve stumbled, uncertain. “But uh, I’m—I’m making chicken soup, so: rice, or noodles?”

“...you’re making me soup?” Billy sighed, leaning against the door jamb. “...what are you doing out here?”

“I brought you stuff,” Steve told him, wincing. “Uh, is it—can I come in?” Billy backed away, tottering over to blow his nose, and Steve came in and kicked the door shut with his feet.

It was both humid and cold, and Steve grimaced into the dim light, watching Billy curl up on the corner of the couch in his jeans and the sweatshirt from their work. He was surrounded by used kleenex. “...I brought…” Steve trailed off, as Billy tried to tuck the blanket over his toes, and not pull it off his head. “...why’s it so cold in here?” he asked, and Billy’s head jerked up.

“It’s fucking cold, right?! I knew the fucking thermostat wasn’t working—” he stopped, sighing.

“Okay, no,” Steve announced. “You’re coming to my place. I promise not to make you sign any, like, prenuptials, come on.”

“...I’m sick,” Billy told him, petulantly, as Steve found his shoes.

“That would be why,” Steve told him, battling to get one arm out of the blanket at a time, and push Billy’s arms into his coat. “You can figure out the thermostat later—I’ll call and fight with them, if you want—but I can see my breath in here.”

Billy submitted to being bundled down the stairs in untied shoes, his coat on, and his blanket wrapped around it, and Steve loaded the groceries back in, handing Billy the box of tissues.

“So,” Steve asked, as he shifted into reverse. “Noodles or rice? I bought both. We could try both, I guess,” he said, considering, and then realized Billy was trying to cover a laugh, which turned into a racking cough. He sounded like the seals at the zoo.

“I don’t give a shit,” he said, finally, when he could talk.

All my Harringrove fic!

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

FP//The Midnight Club (part 4)

hey! thats right, after the long awaited return, its back!!! and because i feel so terrible about leaving it for so long, the rest of the series is written too (and edited!!!), it just needs posting. anyway, i hope you like it!! and i hope it was worth the wait. seriously, thank you for being so patient, i love you all. (part 3)

In movies, Saturday detention always looks fun. Sneaking around, pouring your heart out to people you see everyday but know next to nothing about and making new life long friends. In reality, its spent doing a whole load of nothing.

You rest your chin in your hand and stare at the blank board ahead. You were the second one here, after Penelope Blossom and as soon as you walked through the door she sent you a disapproving look.

You and Penelope get on almost as well as you and Alice. She’s an annoying teachers pet that likes to write you up when she catches you and FP so much as holding hands.

The seat you chose when you got hear was a good one, near the back and away from Penelope. But then the rest of the your classmates turned up and suddenly you found yourself sat between FP and Alice, both of which were trying to kill each other with just looks. 

“Leave me alone FP.” You whisper. It’s the third time he’s tried to talk to you since he got here, and every time you’ve told him to go away. It seems finally he gets the hint and huffs loudly before leaning back in his chair.

You glance behind you to see Alice already looking at you and you send her a small, unsure smile. She just scoffs and looks down at her gloved hands, leaving you to stare at the top of her head.

“Welcome...to Saturday Detention.” Principal Featherhead’s loud but tired voice draws your attention the front of the class again and you force yourself to try and listen to whatever’s he’s droning on about, but in the 2 seconds its taken for him to let out a breath, you’ve tuned out.

It’s weird when the closest thing you have to a friend is Alice Smith. The rest are just acquaintances...and FP, who right now could be dead for all you care. You’re still not over last night. 

There’s clearly something going on between him and Alice, the more you think of it, the more it makes sense. And you’ve thought about it a lot, all of last night in fact. 

Your boyfriend knocked up Alice Smith...and then you. It makes you wonder if anybody else is expecting, you could make a little football team at this rate. 

It’s bad enough having Saturday detention, but it’s even worse that he’s here, especially when you’re running on less than an hours sleep. 

It’s just one Saturday. Eight hours, seven people with nothing in common.

Well, almost nothing.

The bad girl

“Alice Smith?”

The rebelling Catholic

“Hermione Gomez?”

The teachers pet

“Penelope Blossom?”

The artist athlete

“Fred Andrews?”

The political animal

“Sierra Samuels?”

The good girl

“Y/n Y/ln?”

And the ladies man

“Forsythe Pendleton Jones, Jr?”

You piece together the reasons everyone’s here. Alice and Penelope are here for fighting, something Alice told you about in detail last night, despite you wanting to sit in silence and watch Winona and Johnny fall in love. But you will admit...she did deserve it. 

Sierra and Hermione are probably here because they were in the bathroom just before you left, so they got caught in a wrong place, one time thing like you. The friend that you’re covering for isn’t even here, instead she’s probably in bed, or at Pop’s while you’re sat here taking the fall for her. 

Fred and FP were caught streaking, which was funny at the time. Seeing FP and Fred run down the corridor with no clothes on was a sight, made even funnier by Principal Featherstone catching them. But now you just want to slap the smirk that seems to permanently reside on FP’s face off. You have never hoped he has a hangover more.

“While you’re here today you will not talk.” Featherhead starts while making his way around the desks, handing out paper as he goes and you have to hold in a sigh. “You will not play” He says and snatches Fred’s drumsticks away, making the boy huff quietly and sit up straighter. “You will not move. I don’t even want you to breathe.”

“Charming.” Alice mutters and you stifle a laugh. Sierra clears her throat and everyone looks at her.

“Yes?”

“What if we have to pee?” She asks.

“You hold it, Miss Samuels. And at the end of the day, you will deliver a 1000-word essay as to why you’re here today.” He replies and you all let out a collective groan. “I will be right down the hall, in my office, all day long...cause I have nothing better to do.”

The clock reads 11am, meaning you’ve only been here for two hours and they’ve been the longest two hours of your life. Staring at the blank sheet of paper in front of you for so long has made your vision go weird so you  focus on the clock instead. You know why you’re here, ‘caught smoking’ is what you’ll have to write, despite the fact you were just holding it. But how are you supposed to stretch that into 1000 words?

A scratching behind you distracts you from your thoughts making you look behind you. Alice sits on the windowsill with a knife in her hand as she scratches against the wood.

“Dude, can you not?” Fred asks annoyed and she stops abruptly.

“Dude? Can you bite me?” She retorts. Fred rolls his eyes before turning back around.

“Oh, my God. Shh.” Penelope says loudly and now its your turn to roll your eyes.

“Psst. Sierra.” A different voice is a welcome distraction for all of you and everyone looks at the door, hoping and praying that its something exciting.

Tom Keller peeks his head round the door, a smile growing on his face when he spots Sierra and she quickly stands up, making her way towards him.

“Sit down. We’ll get in trouble.” Penelope scolds but Sierra ignores her.

“Tommy.” She smiles and the two of them kiss. Your eyes widen at the sight and you hear a few muffled gasps from the other students.

“Brought you some sustenance.” He says and waves a paper bag at her. She smiles again and grabs the bag from him, holding it close to her chest.

“Thank you.”

“I love you. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“Okay.” She nods and kisses him again before he leaves as quickly as he came.

“Sierra?” Fred is the first to break the stunned silence. “You and Tom Keller?” She nods and he lets out a short laugh. “Guys we’ve been going to the same school since kindergarten. How do we not know anything about each other?”

“We’re not friends. Cliques don’t cross pollinate.” Penelope replies. “Haven’t you seen Heathers?”

“Well, we’ve got six or more hours to kill, and no one to impress. How about a round of Secrets and Sins?” Sierra says, a small twinkle in her eyes as she looks at each you.

You gulp and share a look with the rest of the group, yours and Alice’s lingering for a little longer than the rest.

Sierra is the first to sit down, an excited smile on her face as she watches the rest of you reluctantly sit. Fred’s next, and then Hermione who sits beside him. Penelope sits on the other side of Sierra, FP sits next to Fred and you sit beside him, making sure to put a good amount of distance in between you. Alice is the last to sit, doing it as dramatically as she can and earning an eye roll from Sierra and FP.

“I’ll start!” Sierra says. “Tommy and I have been secretly dating for a few months now.” She admits.  

“Why secretly?” Hermione asks.

“Our parents don’t want their children dating someone so...different. To use their euphemism of choice.” She replies, the previous happy smile is long gone. It’s replaced by sadness and she looks at the old, faded carpet, trying hard not to think too much of it. 

“My mom’s all up in my relationships, too.” Hermione adds. “You know Hiram Lodge?”

“Uh, yes.” Fred replies and a few of you giggle at his response. “Dude is ripped.”

“And a petty criminal.” Penelope mutters.

“He’s a self starter who provides for his family.” She defends. “But to my mom, he’s a scrub. ‘Thats the way to to the American Dream, mija.’ But what dream? She cleans hotel rooms in that stupid Five Seasons, 16 hours a day. Hiram’s got the right idea. Get out of Riverdale. No matter what you have to do.”

“Yeah.” Fred starts. “Except...Riverdale’s not the problem. Me? I wanna stay here my whole life.” He says making Sierra laugh and you shake your head. You can’t think of anything worse. 

Although now, you just might be stuck here. You’re destined to live in a crappy trailer, barely keeping it together and watching your friends move on with their lives. Oh god, the thought alone makes you want to cry and throw up all at the same time and you let out a shaky breath. Your hand automatically moves to your stomach as you try to slow your breathing. 

“Are you okay?” Fred asks and you force yourself to look at him, faking a smile and quickly dropping your hand to your thigh.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You nod. FP moves to hold your hand but you quickly pull it away, sending him a scowl and he quickly retracts his hand back. Fred notices of course, but decides to stay out of it, instead looking at the old carpet. Alice rolls her eyes at the two of you and looks straight at Fred. 

“Is that how longs its gonna take you to decide between music or baseball?” She asks and Fred flips her off.

“Our minor league is solid. And we’re close enough to the city to play music gigs. This towns got it all. Could even see myself running for mayor one day.” He says, and he’s the only person in this room that you believe could actually do that.

Fred Andrews is something different. He’s friendly to everyone, no matter where they come from or what they are. He’s somebody you wish you could be more like, and you can see him changing the world someday.

“Ugh. Nightmare job.” Sierra huffs. “Why not shoot for something bigger? You can do all those things in a real metropolis.”

“Yeah. Except look after my dad. He’s sick. Real sick. And he took care of me my whole life, so, now it’s my turn.” He replies, his expression saddening and a frown appears on your own face. Tears well behind your eyes and one rolls down your cheek. It lands on your hand and your curse your hormones for making you cry.

FP reaches out again but you just shuffle further away from him, wiping your tears as you go and he lets out an annoyed sigh.

Hermione places a comforting hand on Fred’s knee and he looks at it for a few seconds, seemingly getting lost in his thoughts for a while before quickly changing the subject.

“Alice, you’re up. What’s your deepest, darkest secret?”

The tension in the room shifts. Penelope, Sierra and Hermione share a look and you watch as FP and Alice glance at each other.  

“Um...”

“Lets skip her.” You interrupt and she sends you a glare.

“I don’t need your pity Y/n.”

“Alice just tell them about the time you lit a dumpster on fire on the southside” FP says bored.

“Wait, that was you?” You ask, earning a few confused looks from the rest of the group. You remember that fire, it caused quite the rage on the Southside because the serpents thought it was a rival gang seeing as though it was right outside of the Wyrm. “...FP told me.” You add quietly.

“Why don’t you tell them that you actually live in Sunnyside Trailer Park?” She replies and for a second you freeze, thinking she’s talking about you.

“I thought you lived on Elm Street.” Penelope says shocked and you realize she was actually talking to FP.

“Yeah, of course. Because it’s what Forsythe wants you to believe. You parade around the school in your varsity jacket like a Northsider. You even got yourself a northside girlfriend to help you fit in.” She says and looks at you. “But don’t kid yourself. You’ll never escape the Southside. You’re gonna end up just like your dad.”

“Alice.” You warn. He may have pissed you off, gotten you and some other girl pregnant, but he is not his father. He never will be and you feel yourself jumping to his defense quicker than you probably would have liked.

“Downing six-packs in your double-wide.” She continues, staring straight at him.

“Maybe, but I’m not gonna hit my kid. Not like my old man hits me.” He replies and looks at you, his eyes glancing at your stomach for a split second before looking back at her. The group goes silent, no one daring to look at each other and even you avoid eye contact with him.

“Oh really? Which one?” She laughs and you quickly look up. Everyone looks up surprised, but before they can question anything Alice storms out, slamming the door behind her.

Its quiet for a few minutes, before FP takes a deep breath and continues his story.

“I told him I didn’t wanna join his gang. That I wanted to be the first Jones to go to college. He didn’t like that.” He holds up his broken wrist. He hates the way they’re looking at him, like he’s broken, like he’s a victim. But he feels better when he feels your hand resting on top of his. “I guess he sort of got what he wanted. It looks like I won’t be going anyway.” He whispers the last part, turning his hand over and holding yours as best as he can.

“Okay. I guess I’m next.” Penelope interrupts the moment you’re having but you don’t let go. Instead you shuffle closer to him, you’re still pissed, beyond pissed even, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve a hug. “Fair is fair. The Blossoms. They’re...terrible people.”

“But, Penelope, you’re a Blossom.” Hermione replies confused.

“No, I’m not. Not really. I grew up at the Sisters of Quiet Mercy orphanage.”

“Oh, my God, Penelope. That place has like, violated every humanitarian code.” Sierra says.

“When I was eight, the Blossom’s came and asked to see all the red-headed children. The next thing I knew, I was leaving with them. I was so excited. I very quickly realized this was not an altruistic adoption. I was being groomed. To first be Clifford’s sister. Then, eventually, his life companion. Every second away from that house, even today, is a relief.”

“Why are you still living there?” You ask, genuinely curious as to why she would stay there.

“They’re my family.” She replies.

“That’s not family. It’s basically incest. It’s disgusting.” Hermione adds.

“At least I’m not cleaning other people’s toilets like your mom.” Penelope argues and Hermione stares at her annoyed, trying to think of an insult.

“Well, at least she has class. She’s not stealing child brides out of orphanages.” She spits and Penelope gasps.

The two of them start fighting and you hear Fred and Sierra complain before moving to separate them. FP stands and helps you up, quickly moving you out of the way and you end up backing into something much worse that an accidental punch. 

“Congratulations. You all just upped your sentence from Saturday detention...to four.”

[mxndoscyarika]

Red Sunsets (Javier Peña x Chinese!reader) | Chapter 8: El Punto de Sucumbir

Author’s note: I don’t wanna give toooooo much away, but I just wanted to let you know that we’ve finally reached lucky number 8 👀 If you were here a couple nights ago, you proooobably have an idea of what’s going to happen, because I had asked a few questions related to ~kisses~, if you catch my drift. Let me know what you guys think!

Summary: Family fights, grudges, and determination. Those three things defined your journey as you navigated through the workings of the DEA. Getting in was hard, and catching Escobar was even harder. You joined Javier Peña and Steve Murphy in the hunt for Escobar, forming bonds and life lessons along the way.

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist. 

Red Sunsets masterlist

Warning(s): food, Careless Whisper lol, physical affection, implied smut

“So where are you taking me, again?” you asked, looking out at the passing buildings. You didn’t recognize the shops and restaurants you’d passed. The sky was darkened to a royal blue, the last rays of sunlight already well below the horizon.

“One of my personal favorite restaurants in Colombia,” he answered. “They have good arepas, your favorite, and the owners are pretty friendly. I used to go there often before you came along.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “What happened after I arrived that made you forego your favorite restaurant?”

Shrugging, he said, “I guess you happened.” He scoffed at your pout. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. You’re worth all the arepas in the world.”

You were thankful for the shroud of darkness, because you felt your cheeks grow hot and you bit your lip to contain your grin. “And you’re worth all the homemade dumplings.”

Javi chuckled softly, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. As usual, you had the perfect response. He could barely remember a time when he truly cared about flirting, or how the women of his affections responded. But somehow, every time, you managed to turn his tactics around on him.

It took every ounce of self control to keep his eyes on the road and his hands to himself. You wore a simple t-shirt and jeans, and what little makeup you applied only served to make your cheeks and lips look unbearably kissable.

He took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the wheel. More times than he wanted to admit, he’s caught himself reaching to hold your hand or rest his hand on your thigh. Thankfully, it was dark enough that you probably hadn’t noticed. As much as he hated to acknowledge it, you weren’t his. He hadn’t even worked up the guts to tell you how he felt yet.

“Hola Javier!” the owner greeted, her face lighting up. She wiped her hands on her apron and waved for him to sit down at a table. “Hace mucho tiempo que no nos vemos. Quién es ella, tu novia?”

Javi blushed, smiling sheepishly. While he couldn’t understand what Chinese shop owners said, you could understand Spanish as well as he did. “No no no, ella es una amiga. Nos conocemos del trabajo.”

The owner of the restaurant simply hummed in response and eyed you from head to toe, much like how a parent may analyze a prom date. “Pues, no te molestaré, okey? Cuéntame si necesitas algo.”

More than accustomed to eating family-style, you and Javi ordered a couple of the smaller entrees and a flan to share. Much like how Javi let you take the reins in local Chinese restaurants, you let him order the food and make small talk. You propped your head up against your hand as you watched him, a small smile perpetually on your lips.

The low moan that left your lips when you bit into a cheesy arepa was music to his ears. He wondered if you’d sound like that when you were kissed. Only when your eyes met did his train of thought come to a screeching halt.

Fighting back a blush, he busied himself with splitting an arepa stuffed with meat, beans, and cheese and sliding the plate over. You tried not to think about how he was so gentle. “Try this one, hermosa. I think you’ll like it.”

“You’re a man aiming for my heart,” you hummed. In your past relationships, you never had anyone treat you the way Javi did with his genuine eagerness. Not that you and he were on a date, you’d never called it that, but you couldn’t help but draw the comparison. You lifted the half that he offered and took a big bite, giggling when the grated cheese stuck to your cheek.

“You have a little bit of….” Laughing softly at your plight, he reached over and brushed it off with his thumb, the pad of his finger caressing your cheek. You fought the urge to lean into his touch and nuzzle your face into the palm of his hand. Javi was just being polite, right? It didn’t mean anything.

Javi drew his hand away and glanced down at his watch. “The movie should be starting in about 45 minutes, let’s start finishing up here and then head over to the movie theater.” He paused, then added, “Unless you feel like going home for a night in?”

“What’ll we do at home?” you wondered, wiping your hands with a napkin. “I’d love to have a night in, if that’s what you want. As long as I’m with you, I really don’t care.”

His heart skipped a beat at your words, though the logical part of his mind stamped down any hope he had. Was he just a friend that you wanted around because you were lonely? It’d been a long time since his last serious relationship, but he couldn’t imagine diving back in with anyone else. He just hoped you felt the same. “We could just relax, maybe turn on some music and just talk.”

“I never knew that Javier Peña would be one to ‘just talk,’” you quipped, smiling at him.

“I can be, with the right person.” He shrugged, picking up the singular spoon and scooping up a bite of the flan. Its amber caramel sauce glistened in the restaurant’s warm lighting. Smiling softly, he held it up to your lips. “First bite is yours, hermosa.”

Taking turns eating spoonfuls of flan, you talked about things ranging from family to favorite animals. Growing up on a ranch, Javi’s favorite animal was a horse, sparking your questions about his life back in the States. You only knew the little bits of information floating around the DEA headquarters, and you wanted to know more.

At first he was hesitant, but then he told you about his father and how he’d grown up in a small town. You listened quietly as he told you about Lorraine, and how they were engaged to be married over a decade ago. His voice grew soft as he recalled all the wedding planning and shopping they did, and how their families had all converged to help out. Apparently, they’d been the talk of the town. It made you wonder if he ever missed her, or at least missed Laredo.

It was no secret that you’d come from an immigrant family, one rooted in traditions both good and bad. Well, good and bad by American standards, of course. You couldn’t deny that your parents had noticeably different views from the parents of your friends, nor could you deny that it gave you a window to your family’s heritage. No culture was perfect, free of discrimination, but you could always learn from it. All you could hope was that you weren’t too damaged or different to be with him.

“Is this how you get all your women to go home with you?” you teased, swirling the spoon in the pool of caramel. “You buy them dinner and feed them dessert before sweeping them off their feet?”

Javi shook his head. “Just you,” he replied, his voice like velvet. Shivers ran down your spine at the implication.

---

The drive back home was quiet, the two of you donning faint smiles in the darkness. You couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said throughout dinner, the sweet words and touches. It was a different man sitting across from you, one that you normally only saw glimpses of previously.

You bit your lip and looked out the window at the passing buildings, hoping the cool night air would soothe the burning in your cheeks. What did his words mean? Why did he seem so embarrassed when the restaurant lady asked if you were his girlfriend? Were you truly just a work friend to him? If you were, why did he look at you like you hung the stars in the night sky? Why did he watch you with those dark brown puppy eyes that made your insides melt?

“We’re home, hermosa.” Javi’s voice interrupted your chain of thought as he pulled up to the apartment building. Before you could finish unbuckling your seat belt, he was opening the car door for you.

It felt like second nature to walk over to his front door and wait for him to unlock it. But something about it felt different this time, like it was more than just a friendly hangout on a weekend evening.

While Javi turned on a couple lights, you made your way over to his record player and flipped through his various vinyls. “Any music preference tonight?”

He flicked on a lamp. “Anything is fine, Y/N. Your pick.”

The sound of a familiar saxophone blared out from the record player, making him freeze.

You laughed at his startled expression and stopped the music before switching out the George Michael record for Foreigner. “Except this one? Don’t worry, Javi, I know what you like.”

Shaking his head fondly, he sat down on the couch next to you and watched as you scooted closer to rest your head on his shoulder. The lyrics of I Want to Know What Love Is filled the air as you basked in each other’s presence.

“What do you think you’ll do once we catch Escobar?” you asked. Realizing you just brought up work on a weekend, you cringed. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

Sighing, Javi shifted and replied, “I don’t know. I didn’t exactly let myself leave much behind in Laredo.”

“You have your father and your family ranch,” you suggested, playing with the blanket you’d draped over yourself. “And I’m sure you could find someone to be your sweetheart in the States. After all, you’ll be the man who took down Pablo Escobar.”

“And what about you?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. He tried not to dwell too long on your assumption that he’d want to be with someone from Laredo when he could be with you. “What will the magnificent Y/N L/N do once this is all over?”

You shrugged. “I guess I’ll continue my work in the States. Maybe set up a research lab of my own to study other drugs. And maybe I’ll stop by my parents’ house and see if they’ve forgiven me.”

“Well, if you ever need somebody to tell them how great you are, you know where to find me,” he said, smiling shyly. You felt warm as he continued, “You’re an amazing agent, and an even better friend. Anyone who doesn’t see that can fuck off, in my book.”

You laughed softly at his boldness, even if you knew him well enough that he wouldn’t insult your parents to their face. It was the thought that mattered.

But as you sat there, your hand resting in his and your cheek on his shoulder, you couldn’t help but wish that you could stay like that forever. The early morning drive to work with Javi, the casual lunch breaks, dinners, and late nights all made you wish you were together. You rarely felt like you belonged anywhere, but in his apartment? In his car? His bedroom? You felt safer than you ever did back in your hometown.

“Thank you, Javi,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the music.

“For what?”

For being there for me, you wanted to say. For seeing the best and worst parts of me without shying away. For making my coffee just the way I like it every day in the office. For staying with me after I woke up in the hospital. For having my back out on raids, and checking my vest to make sure I didn’t forget anything. For listening to me when I go off on tangents about my culture.

“Everything,” you answered softly. “For putting up with me, I guess.”

A smile graced your lips as he slipped his arm around you and pulled you closer to him. “Anything for you, mi amor.”

You furrowed your brow and looked up at him from your slouched position. “What did you call me?”

His soft brown eyes met yours, the outer corners crinkled just slightly as he gazed at you. You hadn’t realized how close you were until you could feel his warm breath against your nose. Your eyes trailed from his beautiful eyes down the curve of his nose to his plush lips. Up close, you could see the small crease in the center; it was as if he were perpetually pouting.

“Mi amor?”

Unable to resist the magnetic pull any longer, you and Javi met in the middle. Your lips slotted against each other, a soft sound escaping you as he cupped your cheek and kissed you fervently. His lips were softer than you’d imagined, his mustache tickled your upper lip. You could kiss him all night, if he let you.

Warmth bloomed in your chest as you moved to straddle his legs, hands wandering up from his chest to play with his brown locks. You’d always wondered what it would feel like to run your fingers through it, drawing soft groans from the man beneath you. You could feel the heat radiating from his body as you pressed yourself against him.

His arms wrapped around and held you close, the weight of his hand settling on your upper back. Your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. You gave him one last kiss before pulling away for air, your noses brushing against each other. Smiling, you gave him a peck on the tip of his nose.

“Do you want to stay?” Javi asked, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes searched yours for any sign of regret, of realizing that you’d made a big mistake.

You nodded and leaned in to press your lips to the crease between his brows. “I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me, cariño.”

He hummed softly against your neck, nuzzling his nose against your pulse point. “Is it too late to tell you that I really like you?”

“Maybe,” you replied, sighing as he sucked lightly at your skin. If he left a mark, Murphy would never let you live it down. But somehow, you didn’t care. You ran your fingers through his hair, making it stick up in some places. “But I’d rather you show me instead.”

The walk to his room was well-practiced from your days living with him, but knowing that he was following you made a shiver run down your spine. Everything about his bedroom was familiar, yet new. You wondered if you were dreaming, if this was just another cruel figment of your imagination after a long day of work.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight if you don’t want to,” Javi said, wrapping his arms around you from behind when you stopped at the foot of the bed. Your hands covered his, caressing his knuckles. “We could always wait.”

“I don’t want to wait.” You turned around and pulled him into a deep kiss, your hands sliding down to rest on his chest. “I want you, Javi.”

Translations:

“Hola Javier! Hace mucho tiempo que no nos vemos. Quién es ella, tu novia?” Hello Javier! It’s been a long time. Who is this, your girlfriend?

“No no no, ella es una amiga. Nos conocemos del trabajo.” No no no, she’s a friend. We know each other from work.

“Pues, no te molestaré, okey? Cuéntame si necesitas algo.” Well, I won’t bother you, ok? Let me know if you need anything.

“Hermosa” Beautiful

“Cariño” Sweetheart/darling

“Mi amor” My love

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[selfcareparker]

yesss the letter format 💝💓💘💖💞💕💖💞💓 (lovely anon)

my dearest aria (a hamilton reference lmao),

i’m home alone (bc i wanted the house alone to get my head together after my brothers were mean to me 🙃) and i’m so hype LMAO but i’m watching chloe x halle’s tiny desk concert and honestly just vibing. (this is so random) besides zendaya like they are my badass black women role models. my one accomplishment would be to learn to body roll like them LMAO

oh nevermind i can’t have anything nice, my dad just came home 🙃 WHAT A WAY TO START OFF THIS ASK WTFFF

i’m liking tfatws, the second episode was veryyy intense imo but WANDAVISION IS SO GOOD😭 i knew it was going to be my favorite from the really old trailer but it’s really good and i promise it’s not just sitcoms, girl especially cuz you’ll have all the episodes already out- we were having to wait every week😭 BUT ITS SO GOOD I PROMISE HDJSHDJSH lmao reading this i was like “i- the episodes aren’t an hour long” but i feel that, it’s hard for me to watch tfatws bc they are an hour long and i’m like 😐 but wandavision episodes are less than 30mins bc I KID YOU NOT they have the damn 10 MINUTE CREDITS DHDJSJ no i don’t think we’ve talked about this b4 lol but it all depends on the series for me. i binged love island uk in less than a week bc i was so invested and LITERALLY LOVE IT but uh those episodes are like an hour and a half, but say i was binging tfatws (it’s so hard to type that ohmigosh) i honestly would not be able to do it bc of the intensity (you may be like what intensity but if you’ve seen episode 2 by the time you’re reading this.......... isaiah and the scene afterwards is all i have to say, esp me being black it was so tough :/)

girl you’re fine, as long as you’ve experienced it once hahaha i think the reason why it’s so important to my family (this letter feels so personal and extreme HSJSJA IM SORRY) is bc my grandmother loved it and in my family i guess it’s just important to us lol like my mom and dad love it too and we have the literal VHS tapes LMAO, but it only came up recently cuz my youngest brother was watching lion guard HAHA and he wanted to see the originals :) and fun fact (unless you already know) but there’s a lion king part 2 and 1 1/2 and i have all three ON VHS HAHAHA but i love lion king 1 duh (the og) but part two’s music and love story..... is so good. anyway. 🦁

I WAS THINKING THE SAME THING DURING THE WHOLE MOVIE THEATER ENCOUNTER THING HAHAHA AND WHEN SHE WAS SAYING AWKWARD I WAS LIKE WTF THE NOISE LMAOOOO i don’t think there’s a better way to describe that whole situation than ZKDHDJSHAJAJSHDJSNAHA. yeah. yeaaaa at the cinemas (i like the word cinema more than movies 🥰) here they have chips (fries), some have ice cream, nachos, drinks, hot dogs, the cinema we were at had pretzels and like BURGERS I WAS LIKE HUH OKAY and ya know obviously popcorn but i don’t know why the theaters (or cinemas) here do that, it started a long time ago though like yearsssss

PLEASE i have the longest movie watchlist and uhh haven’t seen any of them JDJSKA (istg i use HSJSSKSH as a period - like . ) i’m still hype for cherry but very hesitant (idk if i can handle it) but i’m thinking about watching it in the next couple of weeks? i know it’ll take me forever bc i’m gonna have to keep pausing and shit but idk. i’ve asked around for very specific trigger warnings and time stamps so i REALLY know what’s coming (even if it spoiled the film a bit for me) but i do really wanna see it (i think? writing this now i’m not so sure lol) so whooooooo really knows lol, but chaos walking YES i was really excited about it :))) and about my friend uhh dude you don’t sound mean at all i was literally thinking the same thing but worse HAAKL idk what she was there for???? she bought my ticket tho so 💁🏾‍♀️ whatever

“SIMS ahh, BUNK BEDS ahh” had me cracking up lmao and you know my sims status JAJAHHAJ but i’m gonna become like you, saving every 5 minutes 😭 but that’s exactly what happened to me, i really didn’t know whether to shut it off or not but after 2 hours i was heartbroken lol i’m literally making a list of things i need to redo that wasn’t saved lmao

CAN I JUST SAY UR A MASTERMIND THOUGH??? UR SIMS GAME SOUNDS SO *chefs kiss* IM CRINE university is PAINFULLY long and LITERALLY I FEEEL THAT like you can’t do anything else without failing, i had my sim go to a party once for like a few hours and i felt so dumb afterwards like urgh he should’ve been studying LMAOO just cracking down on work honestly. UR NEIGHBOR!AU IN THE SIMS PLEASEEE i am very much in love with it, yes. (pouring rain has just suddenly begun where i am rn wow ok) i love that you put them on the same lot, that was really really smart and i love that ur living out your sexuality in the sims😭 i was abt to say “now you can say you’ve got experience bc of the sims” but ANYWAY IGNORE ME fhdhs THE ALIEN BABY DHSJSK i hope it’s not a dealbreaker for enisa. that’d be tragic. IM BACK IN UPPERCASE THO BC YES MAKING OUT IN THE SIMS IS SO HOT TO ME??? I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE STFU OH MY GOSH- all the stuff, whispering sweet nothings, and the making out, and JUST ALL OF IT!!! AM I TOUCH STARVED????? there was this time i made my sim just continue to woohoo bc it was turning me on big time. ANYWAY

half way through that i had to go to my grandmothers house (not the one that likes lion king, but uh hmm idk if you remember but i was talking abt my shit family so yeah that grandmother lol) so now i’m finishing this 🥴 and instead of chloe x halle i’m watching a tom interview lmao & if this takes me longer than 30 minutes.... imma cry

I REALLY WANNA ASK- IS IT BC UR GERMAN LIKE YOU CAN JUST WRITE OUT THAT LONG ASS WORD???? i mean i can’t write out supercalafrag- anyway, but that word is a bit nonsense, UR WORD IS A REAL WORD DUDE HDJSHS i love how ur like “maybe i mixed up these words” YEA OK.

lol i had to google what are waveformers lol (lol makes a comeback) and they look like curlers that you would sleep in (here we would call them curlers or uhm i forgot uhhhhhhh rollers i think) but ur fine when am i ever making sense?? i think the best part about these is the chaos yet we understand what the other means 😌

H20 H20 H20 OH MY GOODNESS SHE BROUGHT UP H20 OK MY LIFE WAS H20🥲 I HAVE THEIR LOCKET NECKLACE AND (short storytime) when i was younger i thought they were american despite their accents (idk i was dumb) but then i figured they weren’t when lewis went to go study in america HAHAH ALSO FAVORITE COUPLE CLEO AND LEWIS UGH WATCH ME REWATCH THE SHOW NOW THANKS (also i hated elizabeth so much) but anyway back on topic, when lewis went to go study in the US i looked up where the show took place and all that good stuff and i found out they were australian HAHAH and that started my obsession with accents LMAO the uk :’)) (i’m proofreading AND AUSTRALIA IS NOT A PART OF THE UK LMAOO IM SOO DHSJSSHS) also it is now one of my many goals (besides the body roll HAHAH) to go to mako island (that’s what it’s called right??)

about music, i googled stormzy and i might listen to a song of his.. LOL I WANNA GIVE IT A TRY IMMA DO IT FOR YOU NFDVSFSG lmaoo the german rapper had me cackling (autocorrect once again being helpful and said raper and i’m like nOO) i mean we all have that one person. can’t lie, won’t lie. my one (IM SORRY BUT AUTOCORRECT HAD “MY ONE TRUE ACCOMPLISHMENT” SITTING AND READY HDJSJA I DONT EVEN TYPE THAT wHAT) person out of my white soft boy with brown hair and brown eyes type would beeeee pete davidson. love me some petey. i was gonna say rex orange county as well lmao but i don’t really loveeee him i’m just in love with his music... and wanna be friends with him..... so 👉🏾👈🏾 (i never do that fdshsh)

oh my goodness, i love tattoos too- GASP what are you thinking of getting 🥺 i want tattoos too but i’m too indecisive to figure out what to have & where. especially in my family... idk they aren’t frowned upon but my mom’s not applauding the thought lol, if i got one it would have to be meaningful but i am absolutely in love with (for example) ariana grande’s finger tattoos !! they’re so cute and simple :’) i don’t even know if i can get tattoos? my skin is... interesting. not in a bad way!! just like.... idk how to explain it??? keyloids run in the family & i got a piercing once and it got infected soo :/ the doctor also confirmed that if i wanted tattoos they couldn’t be in color so LMAO

ONCE AGAIN THIS WHOLE THING FEELS SO TMI DHSHSSJ IM LIKE OHMIGOSH SHUT UP SHE DOESNT CARE JESJSKS

in regards to you not sleeping, i wanted to mention that dumb bird, what was the reason it was up so early aT 4AM???? SIR WHO YOU CALLING TO??? also it’s 11:30pm and idk why i’m tired???

yeah i was never SUPER into justin so i don’t know exactly what albums you’re talking about lol, i do know yummy though.. but everyone did hahaha also i listen to so much pop 🙈 i mean maybe... idk what would count as pop and what wouldn’t. that new person feeling though.. i get that. it’s like who is this new person..? i kinda feel like that with taylor swift (i was never THAT into her either though so it’s like oh wait i didn’t know you from the beginning instead of hello old friend but you’re different lol)

about the concerts, thanks 🥰🥰 that’s so sweet what you did for your mom too, it’s nice seeing them so happy like 🥲 awh AND GLEE IS AND WAS MY LIFE FOR A V V LONG TIME, i’ve been meaning to rewatch it for the longest time lmaooo but i’m just so lazy and it’s such a commitment... i’ll have to get emotionally involved again and idk if i want that rn. but i have a friend on instagram and she runs a glee fan account and it’s such a big part of her life i really don’t think i could ever be THAT obsessed with something. like another one of my friends loves tom holland so much that she changed her mom’s name in her phone to what tom’s mom’s name is in his phone (that was confusing lol) and obviously i’m not judging them AT ALL, it just couldn’t be me lol

CONCERTS LOOK LIKE SO MUCH FUN ��😩 LIKE THE EXPERIENCE AND THE FEELINGGG URGHSJS i wanna see a few people live like ari and chloe x halle and- hmm.... idk who else FJDSJ rex orange county i guess huh anyway, the experience just sounds so amazing and the atmosphere is just ✨✨✨ yeah

aria do it do it do it do it do it- watch hamilton!! but with subtitles bc you won’t catch half of the things they’re saying without them LMAO (me and my family watched it and they all didn’t like it bc they didn’t know what was happening lol) BUT DONT WATCH IT AT 4AM LMAO ITS LITERALLY 3 HOURS LONG

yes!! superior peter fics 🥺🥺🥺🥺 and it just shows how much of an incredible writer AND PERSON you are through your fics that you can turn a blurb into 2k....... like what.

LMAO the annoying thing, sometimes i feel like i’m bothering people (like right now HAHAH) but i think it’s my antisocial side being like yeaa no one wants to talk to you like you wanna talk to them :’) idk it’s strange!! sometimes i get really ✨insecure✨ and overthink everything LOL like is this too long, im talking too much, i’m swearing too much, oh lord i’m a pain, all that good shit lmao so that’s fun:))

ALSO YOUR BLOG IS SO FUN TO ME HAHAK LIKE ITS JUST YOUR OWN AND I LOVE THAT!!! like you talk about everything and anything on here lol,, and i say that bc what you said lmao how if i was someone else i would want to fuck me so bad😭 i honestly don’t understand how i don’t have people lining up though..... but if no one’s gonna tell you... then you tell yourself, period (and sometimes telling yourself is fucking yourself HSHAJKS OK NEXT)

ohmigosh the realization you had that you graduated last year and are going to uni this year🤧 but the fact that you had a teacher who LEFT THE GROUP CHAT bc she was mad at y’all i- 😭 but yeah about your maths (i always wondered why you guys call it maths and the US calls it math. like i know so many people out of the states, not just in the uk that say maths) teacher- i saw this post that said online school is looking a lot like dora the explorer😭😭 “you have any questions?” 🦗 “okay bye then” lmao and please i love when tests have nothing to do with what you studied like ??? thanks? sometimes i get scared that my teacher will somehow find out that i googled everything? or like my answer is too close to the answer sheet or something. i get sooo nervous lol but i’m already past that point of not being able to do anything myself DHJS i mean i’m still learning like i said!! read the question, read the answer. boom. now i know the answer to the question and i learned!

THANKS 🙈🥰🤧 idk how else to explain my feelings LMAO i feel it’s cool that you find my dance lessons and voice lessons cool so thanks :’)

oh god not headache season 😭😭 allergies are the worst like it’s not even funny. is headache season just when the seasons are changing or is it like... all throughout the summer? cuz i love the summer lmaoo i love the winter too but i just love wearing as little clothes as possible LMAO

GIRL IF THAT BIRD DONT STOP CHIRPING- i am 100% convinced that it is the same bird trying to give you headaches and no sleep and it needs to stfu 😤 and pLEASE ur theme is adorable and pretty and cute but also it just feels like you? idk if i’m explaining this right or if it’s bc i’ve been talking to you for a bit but it’s cute but not innocent in a way that i’m surprised that you write smut and- yeah, that didn’t make sense!! but ur new theme is gonna look pretty too and as long as you like it, it’ll be amazing🥰

yessssss the fact that megan is gonna be ur pfp YES JUST YES

edit: ok i just need to 🥺😭 sometimes u make me wanna cry cuz i feel like you’re just a kind person. i truly mean this, the fact that you celebrate yours & others stretch marks makes me so 🥺🥺🥺 i honestly don’t know anyone who has said they want need more stretch marks and it’s just all very lovely to me :’)) OKAY IMMA STOP BEING SAPPY

#yes my fake tags are back #by popular demand #aka me #and look i have actual tags this time! #i’m seriously craving water ice rn....... huh #but it’s past midnight and i fr fr want a snack #aw man #i wrote that last paragraph while doing my tags yes #and i hope you become responsible for that anon’s orgasm #assuming they had one #and i saw your response to the tom thing and yeaa when they only look like that for something and it’s like aw bae be yourself #i’m gonna shut up now and find a snack but goodnight!! morning?? IDK #IF THESE TAGS END UP AS ACTUAL TAGS I AM SO SORRY HAHAHA #alright proofreading done and i’m gonna go eat cereal

okay i‘m on my way to a driving lesson rn and afterwards i have a zoom uni thing, and then another uni thing lmao. but hopefully i can reply to this in between because i‘ve been dying to talk to you since i got this ask dldjds💘💘💘 (i really like this heart. i had a 💖 phase for a while and now it‘s 💘 (seems like a very romantic heart but.... it is what it is idk dkddj)

^okay that was literally all i wrote before my lesson lmfao. just had the worst driving lesson ever dbdvsnylkxsksj i think i‘ve gotten too used to being good at driving and now i‘ve gotten too cocky with it 🥴 anyway i‘ve had such a stressful day and overall week but tbh i‘m already feeling better bc i can (indirectly) talk to you <333

omg i went to chloe or halle (i don‘t remember who out of the two)‘s instagram the other day and found out that they are not twins alejeleksjsksj but yes oh my god their voices are literally angelic and i can‘t wait to see Halle as Ariel (Arielle??)🥰 and omg it‘s literally 2021 and we‘ve only had......... one(?) black Disney Princess like it‘s about fucking time (I might be forgetting someone, I‘m not too familiar with the new Disney films, but as far as I remember there‘s only Tiana right? (who is literally a frog for 3/4 of the film 😭😭) so yes i‘m here for it too😌😌😌 (obviously she‘s not a cartoon like tiana ekdlek but she‘s a disney princess you know what i mean ddkjdh)

pfkejdj i‘m already overwhelmed with my parents i can‘t imagine having siblings too 😭😭 (sometimes i wish i had siblings but then other times (like after reading what you wrote dksjj) i‘m glad that i‘m an only child lmao like your brothers being mean to you and i remember when you cried and he was just like 👁👄👁 ok. like i’m totally okay being an only child sksjsj———and he doesn‘t listen to music 🤧🤧🤧 (although i guess that‘s good for you because at least he can‘t annoy you by listening to loud music that you hate dmdn)

okay okay i might watch wandavision then??? I‘ll definitely let you know!!! and yes omg i‘m loving tfatws (that really is so fucking hard to type omg) but same i totally get what you mean, i‘m not used to watching action series at all and every episode so far has been like a little movie so i‘m glad that i didn‘t wait until it was all out cause there’s no way i could binge watch that lol) and yes last episode was really intense. i‘m glad that marvel are talking about racism because (from what i‘ve seen) they haven‘t been the best in that department, and i‘m really curious to see what they‘ll do in the next episodes (curious isn‘t the right word but excited isn‘t the right wort either, like i‘m excited but in a neutral way ? i‘ll shut up dslsksj i hate that german has so many words that you cant translate because theres a really good german word that describes how i’m feeling but i cant think of a good translation ugh)

okay i absolutely need to watch lion king (and part 2 and 1/ 1/2 dksksj) AND hamilton, i might even do it soon 👀

BURGERS AT THE CINEMA? EBEEISNDBEKSK i‘ll come to the US just to go and watch a movie lmaooo, i think all the popcorn sizes and drinks are bigger as well, i‘ll come and watch chaos walking with you 😌😌 does next week work?

and yeah i‘ve seen posts with specific time stamps and trigger warning for cherry too so if you haven’t looked on tumblr yet i’ve def seen some! (but ive also seen some on twitter and yeah- i mean idk youve probably looked on tumblr but yeah- then there’s also imdb which doesn’t have time stamps i believe but quite specific warnings, mostly without spoilers!)

Tbh i don‘t think i would have even considered watching cherry if tom wasn‘t in it... (i’m personally fine with most of the triggering topics/things like for some reason i’m just stoic when i’m watching the most tragic films ever dldldldlbut the plot just... idk if it‘s for me you know? just entertainment wise?).... and even with tom in it i‘m unsure skeldls, i‘d totally get if you decide not to watch it but let me know if you do i‘d want to hear your thoughts! <3

SKSLSJJ my sims both finally graduated!! i think i played sometime last week, and i literally got the achievement/notification that i‘d been playing with this household for 24hours.... and that was BEFORE they graduated dldjdldkdksjjs

oh no my tumblr broke and three paragraphs of me talking about sims were deleted 😭😭😭

WAIT NO I TOOK SCREENSHOTSSKSK because i couldn’t press save so i knew they might be gone okay okay okay i‘m a genius

*move out

oh no idk if the quality is too bad to read... idk how good your eyes are dkdkdjjd (also sometimes it will be really bad quality for some but not for others so i hope that the you can see the pics in a normal/good quality)

Okay let me continue

OMG THE ROMANTIC AND SEXUAL STUFF IS THE BEST PART ABOUT THE SIMS DIDLDKJIkdkj i kind of miss how in the sims 3 they would be making out basically lying on top of each other if they were on a bed— but in sims 4 when they‘re sitting next to each other and everything that‘s definitely hot too 😌😭 or with hot tubs dkdkdk how one sim climbs on the other sim‘s lap before they woohoo (i used to make them skinny dip in the hot tub and then make out and woohoo so they’re like naked on top of each other even if you can‘t see anything- en e waysss)

Dkdkdkdj so @ Rindfleischet.. blah bla. so it‘s basically just loads of individual words put together/connected and that‘s a really big part of german. so yesterday i had an online Einführungsveranstaltung for uni (like it was a zoom meeting where they just talked about general stuff about the uni and i was really anxious before, idk why, but it turned out absolutely fine so) and that words consists of the two words Einführung (introduction) and Veranstaltung (event) which are also two individual words but you can make a new word (Einführungsveranstaltung, so in english that‘s basically “introduction event“ lmao) by combining those two words. there are obviously some rules like you can‘t just combine random words in a random order but you can basically make infinite words (technically). for example (i feel like i‘m teaching a class just skip this if you don’t care 🙃🙃🙃djdjdkdlns)

for example i could say Einführungsveranstaltungsteilnehmer (which is not underlined with red by tumblr because it is a grammatically correct compound word (i think that‘s what they‘re called?)) which is the words introduction + event + participant, so that word just means “participant of an introductory event“ but instead it‘s one word? i hope that makes sense? dkdkkdksks i mean it makes sense in german but idk if it makes sense to you cause idk if i‘m explaining it very well lmao,

(I just deleted a really really long paragraph that i wrote about gender in the german language and grammar, you‘re welcome slsksksj)

my capacity to think has now been used up for the week 🥴🥴🥴 i absolutely do not blame you if you just skipped over that part or can‘t be bothered to (re)read my awful explanation edkflsksjdjdj (again, i had double the amount of words but i just deleted it dkdkdlslsl but what‘s left lf my german lesson is probably confusing enough already😭i‘m sorry🥴)

so to answer your question LEJDKSKJ: it‘s really common to have long words in german, words that are just word+ word+ word + word made into one long word. obv rindfleischetikettierung..... is a very extreme example and it‘s normally just 2-4 words made into one! So yup i think that comes mostly from german and talking german and growing up here and going to school here and everything dmdfnsksx

i think the best part about these is the chaos yet we understand what the other means 😌— YES. YES. Yes. I love that about us 😌😌🥰🥰/ I love us. Yes.

okay but your friend changing her mom‘s name into tom‘s mum‘s name (was that right? Dkdkdjh)—— so Justin Bieber once posted something where you could see that his Dad‘s number was saved as „Daddy Cakes“ (which, thinking back, sounds very weird ekejjej) and till this day I have my Dad’s contact name as Tata (which is serbian for Dad lmao), “Tata🍰“ in my phone because of it 😭😭😭😭🙃🙃🙃 it‘s not because of justin anymore like i‘ve just gotten used to it by now but at first i did it because of justin lol........ but nowadays i don‘t think i‘m THAT type of fan of anyone- like you know how people have fandom names (Justin‘s fans are the Beliebers, One Direction fans are Directioners (writing that hurt my soul💔💔💔)) and I wouldn‘t consider myself a fan of anyone like that. like even with tom i wouldn‘t call myself........ does tom even have a name for his fans??? Well if he does, I wouldn‘t call myself that. Like i used to be such a hardcore stan for any celebrity that i liked and now it‘s just... okay, i like em. (She says on her blog where she writes fan fiction about Tom Holland — WJDJEJDKELSKSKKSNSNDXB🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃)

Omg rex orange county!!!!!! I don‘t know that many songs like I‘ve only listened to the album pony, but i love it 💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘

thanks again for what you said about my fics/writing I‘m🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Pete Davidson Pete Davidson Pete Davidson I‘m-🥰🥰🥰🥰 and I can‘t explain why. But as blissfulparker said the other day (i don‘t want to tag her and make her read through all of this lolll) “I like my men when they look like they are on the brink of death 😍“ (or something along the lines of that) eskkejs okay pete isn‘t that bad, he looks quite good on some days but other days you‘re like... is this man alive? Like i don‘t want to be mean I love Pete so much The King of Staten Island is literally my favourite film ever (although it‘s not my #1 because of how he looks, but i mean he does look good) VUT ALSO

(Okay i was gonna look for a terrible picture of him but he really doesn‘t look as bad as people say??? like. i think he‘s hot. can‘t necessarily explain why. so that‘s that on that.)

i‘m not going chronologically right now (i just keep scrolling up to your ask and replying to whatever i see first sksksksh) so i might miss a thing or two that you said

Okay Stormzy, you really really don‘t have to dkdkdjd like i think you said you don‘t really listen to rap, and uk rap is a whole nother thing from us rap because of the accent i feel like??? (That sentence did not make sense) BUT if you‘re looking for a few songs that aren‘t like RAP rap, then I‘d recommend One Second (feat HER), Superheroes, Own it (which you might know?), ummm maybe the song Lessons?, he has a ton of Lion King references by the way dkdjdj for example in Rachael‘s Little Brother but that‘s like more RAP again if you know what I mean?😭 and it‘s also like 5 Minutes long and tbh i only started liking that song a year after that album came out lmao but Rachael‘s Little Brother is possibly my fav Stormzy song, then there is Shut Up which you absolutely need to listen to just for fun dldjdjd like it‘s just pure fun and also a little funny lmao, especially if you‘re not British (i imagine so at least) cause he‘s like shuTTTT up idk dldkdjdldkjdhdhfjfbfldlsksksks

Vossi Bop is one of his classics, and then maybeee - ok so there‘s Blinded By Your Grace Pt. 2 lmaoobdjsj it‘s very (Christian/) religious but i like it a lot even though i‘m not really Christian (at least not practicing or anything) so idk about your views on religion but i do like the song a lot just by like the sound lmao

Okay so again you absolutely DO NOT have to listen to any, especially not for me dlskdj but I really do recommend the songs Superheroes, One Second and Rachael‘s Little Brother (and all the other ones i mentioned but if you don‘t listen to a lot of his songs you should at least give these three a try <3333) also let me know some of your songs? 🥺 like i dont care who they‘re by but i‘d love to listen to some that you like and Recommend 🥰🥰🥰

Okay so skdjdjdjddhhddhdhjsk... I used to watch all of my series in German (like H2O) bc obviously they were on german tv so they were german- and i knew that most of these actors i saw on tv were american and i was always SO fascinated that they all learned german for this show??? Like I actually thought they were the people‘s real voices and that these English and American actors were learning german so they could re-record the whole ass show and do everything in german dkdkdldjdjjd... i swear I thought that until I was like 14 omg. And then the first time that I watched H2O in the original version i was sooo confused about their accents because to me all actors who spoke english were American?? I mean MOST of those shows are American so I wasn‘t completely off but yeah i was definitely caught off guard when I heard all of their Australian accents for the first time 💀💀😭😭😭

@ math vs maths, math actually makes more sense in my opinion. like you have the word mathematics, then the abbreviation would obviously be math... why would English people randomly add the s from the end??? Or maybe it makes more sense after all because it‘s like plural??? Now I‘m unsure dkdkdkdj but i do say maths because that‘s how i was taught to say it and i hear the word maths more than math but yeah dldkdjs i think math might even make more sense (okay i just tried saying math and maths is easier to pronounce but again tjat might just be me, oh god i‘ll stop talking about that disgusting thing (mathematics).)

not the crickets and dora LMAOOOSNSNSMDNBS yeah that teacher was... a lot. a lot a lot a lot didjjd but she kinda liked me so she always gave me good grades/marks but the people she didn‘t like..... ooft. OOF.

Fksksjsj idek about headache season like i just know that i get headaches from the sun and i‘m allergic to only one.. type of...pollen??? (I don’t understand the science of that whole pollen thing and idek if it’s called pollen in english i just know sex pollen from fan fics😔)and yeah we have this weird wind that makes a lot of people get headaches yeahd dkdkdj. i loved the i just love wearing as little clothes as possible LMAO lllioool i love that i really do. i always struggle so much in the summer cause i never have anything to wear. i feel like i buy so many new summer clothes every year but when i end up looking for an outfit i don‘t ever find anything 😭 (so i just go naked— lmao jk jk) but i‘m generally not the biggest fan of summer so-

OMG THIS FUCKING BIRD ISTG, okay the first time i heard it i went to sleep at like 5 am, so the next day i was like let me go to bed earlier so the bird doesn‘t keep me up, so i went to bed at 4 am (🥲) and THE BIRD JUST STARTED FUCKING CHIRPING SO LOUDLY, so the next day i went to bed at 3 am AND IT FUCKING STARTED AT 3 AM and it‘s still there 😁 every. night.

and since you said you‘ve gotten used to my theme and everything (idk where this transition came from😭) so tomorrow (2nd april) we have our... wait what‘s an anniversary but for a month.? I think month is like mensus in latin OK NO THATS DEF WRONG DKDKDJ wait

So Tomorrow is our... mensiversary💘💘💘💘💘💘 or at least from the first time you sent an ask. i couldn‘t find it on my tumblr anymore because tumblr is a bit of a bitch but i remember the first thing you ever sent (in an ask) was something lovely about my writing and i always take screenshots of stuff like that, and i found it in my gallery. and i took that screenshot of your ask on the 2nd of march so i‘m assuming that‘s when you sent it 🥰🥰 i feel like i‘ve known you for a week not a month like how is it a month already????? (i mean this in a good way lmao but i really can’t believe that its been a month wtf)

omg no you make me want to cry because i just love you so much 😭😭🥺 but about the stretch mark thing it‘s just.. it‘s not even me trying to empower other women (or anyone else who has stretch marks) to shake off these dumb insecurities that the patriarchy and capitalism have instilled in us— ok no it‘s definitely that too lmao. But i mean I‘ve always loved stretch marks, i‘ve just always loved loved loved them so much so it makes me genuinely sad that people don‘t like them. so yeah. i dont really know how to explain it lol, like i‘m not (only) hoping that people realise that hating your stretch marks is giving the men and the patriarchy what they want per se- (that made no sense) it‘s just because i love stretch marks and think they‘re beautiful and also sexy. idk dldkdjls and omg the fact that you called me kind 🥺🥺🥺 like i don‘t really have a goal in life or anything, but if i had to choose a ‘goal‘ in life it would just be to be kind. (i‘ll end this here otherwise i‘m gonna talk about being kind for 30 more lines—)

And please. Do not ever feel like you‘re annoying me or sending too much. never ever ever. I get so happy when i see that you‘ve sent me an ask. No matter if it‘s a long one like this or just a short one where you‘re saying something about a post that i reblogged or something. I love hearing from/about you and talking to you 💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘

P.S: i‘m so sorry for the tags you‘re about to read they make even less sense than this post, also i reached the tag limit dkdkdj but i said some butterfly tattoos look tacky... and the next thing i said was since we‘re already speaking about Ariana- I DID NOT MEAN THAT SHE WAS TACKY dldkdjsj, i meant since you already mentioned some of her tattoos lmao

[simsadventures]

After All: Chapter 1: New Beginnings

Summary: It is your first few days at the compound. You meet the team, but Bucky is the one who tries to integrate you the most. 

Warnings: none so far

Word Count: 1460 A/N: This is just a first part, I promise it will get better, I just needed to set the scene. 

This is an out of canon fic. I can’t even set the time in the MCU universe. Bucky is an Avenger, Tony and Natasha never died. Also, I did my research on prosthetic limbs, but I’m no mean an expert, so I apologise in advance if I messed up. 

Series Masterlist__Masterlist

You couldn’t believe it. Your dreams were coming true faster than you thought possible. You were starting a new job at Stark Industries and couldn’t believe your own luck. It was a dream-come-true for every scientist around the world. You knew you were good at your job, having a PhD in physics and mechanics made you a perfect material for many tech companies. 

And even though you enjoyed your last job- creating mechanic prosthetics for athletes with disabilities, you couldn’t really say no to Tony Stark. He even visited you personally and tried to convince you that a better future awaits you in his company. 

What you didn’t expect was to be one of the lead scientists to work with the Avengers themselves. You thought you’d be more in a lab, working on Stark’s other projects. But he told you that your inventions and ideas were too good to be locked somewhere and wanted to use them to help protect the world. 

The idea of the world’s mightiest heroes surrounding you scared you a little. Let’s just say you weren’t the most outgoing person. You didn’t mind spending your time with people, but more often than not, you ended up on your couch, a good book and a glass of wine. 

You never were the popular girl at school, wearing glasses and braces was enough for the kids to call you a nerd and not really wanting to spend their time with you. You didn’t mind, though. Your parents taught you to be independent and not really care about other’s people’s opinion on you. It still stung a little sometimes, when the kids would call you names or make practical jokes on you. 

But you were a big girl now, and you wouldn’t let anyone treat you like that. You might not be Miss Universe, but you had your value, and you knew all about it. 

Your first few days at the compound were hectic, to say the least. You had to learn all the access codes, cooperate with Friday and meet the whole team. 

When you finally settled, you actually started to do your job. The first thing to look at was Bucky’s arm. You saw it on the television, but you needed to see it with your own eyes. You thought it was beautiful- old-fashioned, but very well crafted. Even if it was constructed by Hydra- the scientist might have been the bad guy and all, but he was good at his job. You could appreciate that. 

You asked Friday to let Mr Barnes know you’d like to see him when he’s got time. You didn’t think that’d be in 20 minutes since you made the call. He walked in all his glory, wearing sweatpants and tightly fitting shirt. You could see his muscles and your mouth watered a little just because of it. 

“Hi, uh, Mr Barnes. I didn’t expect you so soon.” You said and offered him a hand to shook, which he did. “It’s Bucky, love. And wasn’t it you calling me here?” He smirked at you, and you blushed. Great, now you were blushing like a teenage girl who never saw a guy before. “Uhm, yeah, I just- never mind. I would like to have a look at your arm if you don’t mind.” 

You could see he was a little reluctant, so you added, “I think I might make it more comfortable and overall better, Bucky.” He sighed and rolled up his sleeve to show you where his arm was attached to his body. You could see that someone tried to heal his skin and muscle as much as possible, but the weight of the arm was possibly still too much for his organism. 

Tony told you that he tried to make the arm better, but because it was literally a part of Bucky’s body, he thought he’d let you have a better look and find a better solution than Tony’s temporary one. 

“How often do you have to take it off?” 

“I don’t know, every few weeks because of the therapy I’m doing? My shoulder hurt too much after a few weeks, so I have to take it off, we do physiotherapy, and I’m good to go for another few weeks.” 

“Uh-huh.” You just hummed to show you were listening and continued to inspect the arm. Bucky was watching you with interest. 

“And you can do everything with that arm? No limitations at all?” 

“Depends what you mean, doll face, anything you want me to show you?” He smirked at you, and you just laughed it off. Gosh. He was such a flirt! 

“Ok, I think I know what I wanna do with that arm. Can you come in tomorrow morning, so we take all of the measurements and stuff so I can start working on it?” 

“You got it, and btw, don’t you wanna come to a movie night tonight? Most of us will be there, and you can see the arm in daily life,” Bucky winked at you and laughed when you rolled your eyes at him. “Alright, Casanova, I’ll be there.” 

Bucky smiled at you and left your lab. The rest of the day went by just like your morning, Sam and Natasha being the ones who you talked to and looked at their equipment, and made mental notes and preliminary blueprints of what novelties you wanted to show them. 

You loved the job already. The team was really easy to work with, and the resources you suddenly had were immense. You didn’t have to ask for grants and wait for months to be usually denied. Here you just told Tony about your plans and voila, you had all you needed. 

When you were finished for the day, you pretty much ran into your room to get ready for the movie night. You knew you didn’t have to do much, you never did (some mascara would be enough), but you wanted to take a shower and get changed from the lab coat to something more. At least a regular pair of jeans and a t-shirt. 

You were almost done when you heard a light knock on your door. 

“Hey, doll. Here to pick you up, you ready?” you heard Bucky’s voice from behind the door. 

“Yeah, just give me a sec, and I’m with you.” You hollered at him and looked at yourself in the mirror for the last time. Ain’t getting better, you thought to yourself and walked out of the room. You walked side by side, making small talk about your day and his day. Within a few days, you learned that all of the Avengers work out like crazy, preparing for the next possible mission. 

“And so I kicked Steve’s ass so much, you know? The punk was wailing like a little brat!” You had to laugh at his antics. You couldn’t really imagine Captain American himself “wailing like a brat”, but you let Bucky to it. 

When you reached the little cinema built in the compounds, most of the team, and some other agents and lab techs were there. You were happy it wasn’t just the Avengers, you’d probably feel a little out of place. 

Everyone greeted you with a warm smile, and for a second, you really felt like you belonged there. It was a nice feeling, for once. 

Bucky insisted on you sitting next to him, both of you covered in one blanket, popcorn between you. Someone picked the newest Mission Impossible, despite Steve’d loud protests, because he “wanted to watch a classic, these new movies are just a colourful nothing with a plot that could never happen in real life.” This coming from a superhero, mind you. You had to roll your eyes. Brat.

Bucky threw some popcorn in Steve’s direction, which almost resulted in a popcorn battle, has Clint not stood up and started pestering Steve, Bucky, and Sam like little children. 

The whole movie, Bucky kept whispering nonsense into your ear, on how it wasn’t that difficult to jump out of a plane, or how he would beat Tom Cruise’s ass in a battle, single-handedly by his human arm. “Of course you would, Bucky. You’re a freaking superhero, and he is just a normal guy, remember?” He smiled and scooted a little closer to you because “the popcorn’s just too far doll.” 

It was weird, but a good weird, sitting there, next to Bucky, with his hand constantly touching yours. Little butterflies erupted in your stomach, but you tried to shoo them away. Bucky was just being friendly, and there was nothing else to it. He was simply a nice guy showing the ropes of the compound and the team to the new girl. 

But the butterflies didn’t listen anyway. 

Next Chapter > 

Tags: @iheartsebastianstan @owlyannah @readermia @kolakube9 @ibookishqueen @thewintersoldierswifu @emogril @the-melancholyfeels @pinkleopardss @supervengerslock @the-soulofdevil

If your name is crossed out, I can’t tag you for some reason, I’m sorry.xx

If you’d like to be tagged comment/message/send an ask. If you like the story, please reblog :) any comments are appreciated, even the critical one. Always a space to get better, so let me know what you guys think. 

[oudenoida]

❦ - Changing clothes facing away, showing off their back (Ty and Luca)

Luca was under no delusions about what the house he shared with Max and Dash was like. He’d seen enough American movies to know that aside from the incredibly ordered and neat corners of it that Max was responsible for the three of them lived in something akin to a frat house; which honestly was part of the reason Luca liked it so much. But it also gave him just a tiny twinge of… was that shame? Was he even capable of feeling shame? Every time Tybalt Weymouth slept over. While he’d never been invited to the Celestial Sanctuary it was the stuff of myth, a palace hidden inside a mountain befitting the magical royalty that tread its halls, and he was very much aware of how his very messy bedroom; with tarot cards, underwear, and various drugs/alcohol scattered around it, didn’t really stack up next to “living castle”. He’d been awoken by the sensation of Tybalt sliding out of his bed and rolled over, hand automatically going to the deck of worn cards on the windowsill, drawing a single one out and looking at it. He’d thought it subsonic, but apparently his mewl of discontent at being confronted with the High Priestess reversed had caught Tybalt’s ear. 

“Not good?” 

He turned just in time to see Tybalt slide the t-shirt he’d been wearing off, revealing a broad landscape of back muscles Luca hadn’t even known you could get that toned, and he lived with a professional athlete. Words escaped him for a moment as he felt himself flush and he was suddenly glad he still had the worn quilt that was on his bed covering himself from the stomach down. On a very fundamental level Luca knew he was hot as fuck. His customers told him that, random people on the street told him that, and he told himself that on a daily basis. But he knew for all his tattooed and muscular sex appeal he didn’t hold a candle to his… whatever the fuck Tybalt was. He found the words a suddenly-half-naked Ty had stripped away from him and delivered them with what he hoped was a characteristic level of disinterest. 

“Just being yelled at by the Universe for being a bad person. So, you know. Nothing new. Or as you might say.” His voice took on a dramatically affected American accent, “Nothin’ new.” 

Ty flipped him off as he slid a collared shirt on, tugging a pair of jeans over muscular legs that Luca was now having a hazy memory of commenting on. 

“Did I tell you I wanted to wear your legs like a feather boa last night?” 

“You did. Right before I rendered you speechless for awhile.” 

Luca gave a little shiver as he looked at the upside down woman giving him a death glare from a small rectangle of cardstock. “I remember. Big fan of that, Weymouth. Big fan.” He could hear the wispy voice of Professor Trelawney in his head as he looked at the High Priestess. She means to tell you you’re not listening to your inner voice Lucas. She never had gotten his name right, When she’s reversed it’s a call to stop and breath and turn inward. What is your mind telling you, your heart telling you, that you’re trying to block out?

He slid the card back into the deck and looked up to see Ty looking down at the sweat-stained t-shirt in his hand, Trelawney still echoing in his head, “Uh I took a bunch of shit to the thrift shop the other day so there’s like… an empty drawer in the dresser if you don’t wanna like bring that to work with you or something.” It violated a pretty fundamental if unspoken tenet in their relationship; impermanence. They had existed in a neutral detente for months, a cycle of ghosting and late night hookups that they had staunchly refused to tie any sort of label too. Tybalt was well aware of what Luca did for work, and while it hadn’t come up in any sort of serious conversation Luca couldn’t image the Weymouth scion settling down in any capacity with a whore. 

The look he received was inscrutable and Luca was reminded that he was looking at a man who had been a hair's breadth away from being called Lord. “You just happen to have an empty drawer? I know how Ava shops for you, Santos. I find that hard to believe. I’ll just shove it in my bag and wash it at home tonight. Thanks though.” 

Propping himself up on one elbow to watch Tybalt put the shirt in his bag he could see the edge of the High Priestess poking out of the desk, one disapproving eye pinning him to his pillows. You have to listen, Lucas. You listen to the forces of the world very well, nobody in this class can read the cards like you can, but even you need the reminder to listen to yourself. Sometimes the most important messages don’t come from the deck, but from within. 

Ty had one hand on the doorknob, and Luca could already hear the knob turning and the hinges creaking when it finally burst out of him, far louder than he had anticipated, loud enough where Dash was sure to bring it up later, but bursting out all at once like a ruptured dam. 

“I fucking love you!” 

The doorknob stopped in its rotation but Tybalt’s back remained turned, though, if Luca was reading posture correctly, slightly more rigid than it had been previously. There was no response, no indication other than the cessation of movement that Tybalt had heard him at all and Luca swept his legs out of the bed, planting them on cold hardwood and keeping the quilt over his lap.

“I… I love you, okay? I know. I know this breaks all the rules we never talked about but we both know are there but I love you. When I wake up and you’re not here it’s a shitty morning and when I lay down and I’m alone, or really even when I’m not alone but it’s not you I don’t sleep for shit. I know. I know what we are. I know what this is. What this isn’t. But… I fucking love you. Leave the fucking shirt. Leave a bunch of shirts. Leave shirts and boxers and sweatpants and a toothbrush in a stupid cup by the sink and the smell of you on my blankets and the heat of you on my pillows. Just…. Leave something.” 

From behind him he could swear he heard the gentlest of laughter and the whisper of card against card as she slid back inside the deck but he was too focused on the stationary man in front of him to check to see. Ty’s hand drifted from the doorknob to his pocket and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against the door and breathing a quiet chuckle, “Is it part of your inherent divinatory magic where you just know exactly what’s going to throw me for a loop? I know you’re a gifted seer. Does this come with it?” 

Now it was Luca’s turn to stay silent, head low staring at the floor between his feet. He could tell whatever the outcome this was a turning point for them. Either Tybalt was going to walk out the door for the last time or something bigger was going to happen between them, but whatever forces sometimes gave him a glimpse of a possible future were criminally silent in the moment. It wasn’t until he saw a pair of shoes step between his bare feet and felt a finger tilting his chin up that he felt the blush of hope in his heart. 

“I love you too, Luca.” 

He watched as Tybalt knelt so they were at eye level, leaning forward to brush a gentle kiss to Luca’s trembling lips, “Breathe. I can hear your heartbeat from here. I’ll leave the shirt. I’ll leave the shirt and the toothbrush and the me. I didn’t know you could say that many words in a row… but I love you too. Fuck the rules. You know how I feel about rules. What rules did to my brother, to me, to our fathers. I don’t give a single fuck what rules we had between us. We’ll write new ones. But the first one is this…” The kiss deepened and they both stood, Luca leaning into the feeling of Tybalt. 

“We’re going to start saying stuff out loud. I fucking love you, you dumbass. I just can’t believe you said it first.” 

[allie1804-fan]

New Beginnings (Chapter 3)

1  2 3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12

New Beginnings Baby Drabble

New Beginnings Baby Drabble No2

6 months later (November)

It was a Saturday morning at around 9 when Emily stirred from her slumber, easing out from under Keanu’s grasp to go to the bathroom. As she wiped herself after taking a leak, she felt the tell-tale sign that her period had started.She drew a shaky breath and tried to get herself under control but it was no good. Anger and sadness filled her with bitterness. She knew rationally that this could take a while and 6 months was nothing in the scheme of things but it was relentless having the monthly reminder that they had failed again. She decided on a hot shower to soothe her tension away and got up from the toilet to turn the water on.

“think positive thoughts” she berated herself as the water tumbled down “you have a girly lunch with Chloe today, that will cheer you up and maybe you can talk over these raging feelings with her”

As she washed the shampoo suds out of her hair she heard the shower door slide open and Keanu stepped in behind her immediately wrapping his arms around her.

“Morning sweethe…. don’t” she interrupted her greeting, yelping as his fingers had started to trail to her opening”

“What?, I thought you liked that!”

“I do, usually - sorry love, it’s just, you don’t wanna go there, I just got my period” she huffed, looking up at him over her shoulder with sad eyes”

He pulled her round to face him and hugged her close.

“Try not to worry, darling, we’ll get there, it just sometimes takes a while I guess”

Emily nodded back, a stray tear leaking out which he smoothed away with his thumb.

“Don’t you have plans today? Lunch with Chloe on the Drive right?”

“Yeah, what are you doing?”

“biking and lunch with the boys – be back around 5 I expect”

Over breakfast Chloe started on a topic she didn’t think would go down well with Keanu but she couldn’t stop herself

“Do  you think we should maybe do anything different, you know to help our chances?”

“like what?”

“Well maybe like trying to be a bit healthier?”

“We are healthy, aren’t we? – I mean we eat well. Don’t drink that much……….. oh I see where this is going. So this is my fault now because I smoke right?”

“I never said it was anyone’s fault Ke – I just want to move ahead and maybe that might help. Listen, you don’t have to give anything up. It’s just an idea is all”

Keanu stepped around the kitchen island. His face was contrite as he wrapped his arms around her gently.

“I’m sorry, I over-reacted. I know this is especially hard on you ….”

“Oh so it’s OK for you because you don’t really mind either way huh?”

“Jesus Christ woman, no that’s not what I meant. I just meant everything feels focussed on your body – if we succeed, you’ll be sick and all that and when we don’t succeed you have the reminder of your period driving you crazy, that’s all I meant! And if you recall, it was me who brought up the idea first, not you so don’t say I don’t want this!”

“God sorry, sorry – I’m just crabby. Ignore me”

He hugged her to him “take a taxi to lunch, go drink espresso martinis, champagne – whatever you want. Take my American Express card and go shopping on Rodeo Drive after!”

She laughed and hugged him back.

“Good plan Reeves – I might take you up on that”

They puttered around the house getting ready for their respective trips both looking forward to time with other people after the tension of the morning.

Emily met with Chloe at 208 Rodeo at noon hugging her tightly.

“Boy, I really, really need this” she exclaimed. I’m gonna drink myself a little bit silly then take you up to the shops on the drive and exploit my boyfriend’s credit card, deal?”

“Sure” Chloe said brightly though Emily caught the whisper of hesitation in her manner. Brushing it off, they headed in to get their table by the window.

“So how’s tricks?” Emily asked

“No, no you first, you’ve always got more interesting things going on than me” Chloe protested.

“Well if interesting is getting my period again then your life must be really dull!” Emily grimaced.

Chloe was the only person she’d trusted with the secret that she and Keanu were trying for a baby and for the first 5 months she’d sent ‘crying face’ emoji’s to Chloe each month when the bad news came.

The waitress came back just as Chloe had taken Emily’s hand in hers giving it a squeeze, a pained look on her face.

“2 espresso martinis to start us off ” Emily exclaimed.

“no no not for me Chloe exclaimed. Just a white wine spritzer. I can’t take the hard stuff at lunch.

“Spoil sport” Emily pouted.

Their drinks came and they placed their orders for lunch, settling back to their prior conversation.

“Listen, Em, you’ll get there in the end. It’s just random luck you know. It took ages, you know like well over a year for Jamie and” she paused

“and what?”

“and nothing, I just mean it can take a while. I know it’s super frustrating but, you know it can’t be so bad doing the deed with him can it”

Emily giggled and blushed

 “Ok, ok you got me there. I’ll try to chill but I guess it’s just starting to grate and then I end up looking for advice on the internet and this morning I brought up his smoking ….”

“Oh! and how did that go?”

“badly I’d say, he got real defensive, then guilty. I was just so tetchy – my period came this morning and I’d started to hope some of my now obviously pre-menstrual symptoms were, you know, symptoms!”

“It’s such a bitch that they are basically the same symptoms right?” Chloe sympathised.

“thank god I have you to talk to.  I think I’d go completely crazy without you. So, do you think I overstepped mentioning his smoking? I guess I forgot that it took you a year to get pregnant with Jamie. Did you and John ever fall out over it?”

Chloe laughed a little nervously.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry….”

“hey, no it’s OK – where shall I start. Errm yes we fell out – I got kind of obsessed you know with the optimum conditions and he felt like I only wanted sex for making a baby you know.  It’s so hard to chill and not to wonder why it’s not worked but listen, it’ll probably just fall into place when you least expect it” Chloe looked away through the restaurant window, a frown crossing her face.

“You OK hun?” Emily asked, “you seem kind of distracted today”

“I guess I am, distracted I mean”

Emily looked questioningly at Chloe

“so what’s up”

“Hun, I have something to tell you and I know it’s not going to be easy and given what we’ve been discussing, it’s going to hurt …..”

Chloe’s eyes were filled with tears as she watched the realisation slowly dawn on Emily’s face.

“You’re pregnant aren’t you?”

Chloe nodded slowly reaching out her hand to Emily’s – Emily tried to pull away at first but Chloe grasped her fingers

“you know I didn’t do this to hurt you, we only just started trying….”

“you think that fact makes me feel better!?” Emily spat back at her, snatching her hand away now, anger flashing in her eyes

“no, no I just mean I thought about how it might be if I got pregnant first but after Jamie I was just sure you’d fall first and it wouldn’t be ….like this” she gulped down a sob “please don’t hate me Em!”

Emily took a shaky hold of her drink and gulped it down then just stared at the table for what seemed like several long minutes to Chloe. Emily battled with herself, wanting to run away and die in a ditch but knowing she needed Chloe too and she still had a tiny rational voice telling her this was just bad luck for her and not a deliberate act of spite by Chloe and John. She took a deep breath and looked Chloe in the eye at last.

“Congratulations” she smiled tightly. “I’m not gonna lie, this is , err painful for me but I know it shouldn’t be. Honestly, I’m happy for you, it will be great for Jamie to have a brother or sister”

“Thanks Em … I love you, you know?”

“I know” Em sniffed.

Their lunches arrived giving them the opportunity to just digest this new change in their lives. Eventually Emily spoke, sticking to the  same theme.

“So” Emily began “do you have any top tips for how I’m gonna make it through this without going completely bat-shit crazy?”

“not sure I’m the best person to ask somehow, given the amount of times I took ovulation tests and my temperature when we were trying with Jamie.

Emily chuckled.

“I’ve been telling myself not to go there but now it’s getting very tempting. Especially as I am pretty sure we’re gonna miss some opportunities soon coz Keanu’s off on a 6 week shoot in January.

“well I can’t stop you going there and I know only too well that telling you to relax is just stupid. But maybe just try to have as much other stuff going on to think about, you know. I’m not saying that it will make conceiving more likely, but it might just stop you going bonkers! And I know this doesn’t really apply to you, but we ended up deciding to spend a bunch of our savings on a trip – do you remember when we went to Paris and stayed in the Georges V?

“yeah, yeah I do – why did you think that would help?!”

“I think we just thought screw it, we deserve something nice and maybe fate’s sense of irony would grant us a pregnancy the minute we’d run our savings down and couldn’t really afford a child!”

“And did it work?”

“yeah I guess so, I think we went on that trip in the June and we were pregnant by end July!”

“maybe I should get Keanu to donate all his money to charity then!”

“nahhh don’t do that  - but hey a holiday might be a good thing. What else do you have going on?”

“I’ve got some re-writes on a couple of movies and Keanu’s TV thing is back on the table so I’ve got some deadlines to keep me busy”

Their lunch continued and they even went and did a little shopping in the upscale stores on Rodeo Drive. Emily was back home by 5 and Keanu arrived shortly after.

“Did you have fun sweetie” he asked “looks like you got in some retail therapy too, huh?” he said noting the bags on the floor.

“yeah thanks, I did” she said quietly

“you sure, you don’t look too happy ………… is Chloe OK?”

“Yup, Chloe is fine …… Chloe is pregnant!”

“oh!”

“yes, oh”

“I don’t know what to say”

“It’s OK, we didn’t fight or anything, in fact talking to her was useful  - but I can’t deny at first I wanted to curl up and die!”

“Come ‘ere” He pulled her into a tight hug.

“It’ll be OK hun, we’ll get there ……. And if we don’t we have each other right?”

Emily nodded sadly

“you don’t have to look so thrilled at the idea of just me!” he huffed

“sorry, I know you’re right and I love you, you know I do, but I, I just really want this you know and I’m not ready to think about it not happening, not just yet OK?”

“OK, me neither”

1  2 3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12

New Beginnings Baby Drabble

New Beginnings Baby Drabble No2

[windowlessatmosphere]

Lighting a Candle, Ch. 5

Read on AO3

Summary: Tony takes matters into his own hands, and elects to get Steve and Bucky together by any means necessary. Steve and Bucky, who have been married twice already, are amused and slightly concerned.

Natasha listened, amused, as Clint and Sam continued their bickering for the entirety of the meal. She waited to interrupt until everyone was pretty much finished eating.

“Just letting you two know, if you talk that much during the movie, I’m going to hole punch your tongues,” she stared them both down, eyes narrowing.

“We won’t,” Sam said hurriedly. “Right, Clint?”

“Right,” Clint grinned at her, being the only one at the table who could always tell when she was joking. She waited until Sam shook his head and turned away before returning the wink.

“Okay, movie time!” Tony said with forced cheerfulness, standing up as he did so. I call the couch!”

“Same,” Natasha chimed in, shooting a look at Clint.

“Same,” he echoed, raising an eyebrow at her before subtly signing, “Why are we sitting with Tony?”

“We need Steve and James on the loveseat. I’ll explain later,” she signed back, and he nodded in response.

“If we are to be claiming seats, I would wish to have the recliner,” Thor interjected, leaning forward. “If no one is opposed?”

“C’mon, He-Man, we know that’s your seat,” Tony rolled his eyes, then quickly moved on. “Wow, look at all these dishes,” he mused, making eye contact with Steve.

“Bucky and I can do the dishes,” Steve volunteered after glancing in Bucky’s direction.

“A true patriot!” Tony cried, clapping Steve on the shoulder as he walked by. “Really, an icon for the American people. I’m in your debt,” he added, glancing behind him before plopping down on the couch.

“Okay, then,” Steve said bemusedly, standing up and starting to gather the dishes. Bucky watched Steve for a second before mirroring him.

Natasha jerked her head at Clint, then got up and walked into the living room, hearing him follow her as she went. She settled on the couch and watched Thor flop into the recliner as Clint slipped onto the couch next to her.

Steve and Bucky disappeared into the kitchen with the dishes, and Sam ambled into the living room, looking at something on his phone as he sat down on the loveseat.

“Sam!” Tony hissed. “You can’t sit there!”

“Nobody called dibs on the loveseat, man,” Sam snorted, looking up from his phone and raising an eyebrow.

“Steve and Bucky are sitting there!” Tony insisted, looking to Natasha for help.

“Well, they didn’t call it!” Sam pointed out. “And apparently, that’s what we’re doing now.”

Tony looked at Natasha again, who sighed before interjecting in a whisper, “Sam, James won’t be comfortable sitting by anyone besides Steve. We’re just trying to be respectful.”

Sam looked a bit abashed. “Ok, you’re right, sorry. I wasn’t thinking about that. I thought maybe Tony was going through with his idiot plan after all,” he explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

He got up and squeezed in on the couch beside Tony, leaning forward to make eye contact with Natasha. “Sorry,” he repeated, looking guilty.

Natasha just shrugged and leaned back against Clint, feeling slightly bad about using Bucky’s issues with social interaction against Sam, who was one of the most considerate in the group.

Clint looked around the room, understanding the tension was there even if he didn’t know why. “Anyway,” he broke the silence, “Cereal one hundred percent qualifies as a soup, and let me tell you why,” he began, before Sam cut him off to argue.

Tony joined in after a bit, with Thor being happy to watch the argument play out while Natasha interjected every so often with whatever position would most escalate the bickering. The arguing only ceased once Steve and Bucky returned from the kitchen, both ending up on the loveseat, as they were the only seats available.

“What are we watching?” Steve asked, leaning into Bucky as he got comfortable.

“Brokeback Mountain,” Tony answered, grinning at Steve. “I’m assuming your pop culture catch-up isn’t there yet?”

“Not yet,” Steve shook his head, “I’ve heard it mentioned, though,” he added, glancing at Tony.

“Hold up,” Sam interrupted, “we are not watching that.”

“Wow, Sam,” Tony said, acting offended. “I really didn’t expect that from you,” he added, shaking his head disdainfully.

“Not like that!” Sam shot back. “You know what I’m taking about, man,” he insisted.

“Well, it seems like you have a problem with this movie. Do you? Do you have a problem with the movie?” he pestered, poking Sam in the arm repeatedly as he talked.

“Stop that!” Sam snapped, before glancing at Steve and Bucky. Steve had an eyebrow raised and an obvious expression of confusion on his face, while Bucky had no expression, and wasn’t even looking at them.

“C’mon, kitchen,” he muttered to Tony, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him out of the living room.

“What the hell, man?” Sam asked in a low voice, as soon as they were in the kitchen. “You said you were gonna leave them alone!”

“They’re perfect for each other!” Tony insisted, waving a hand as he spoke. “And they’re practically dating already, they just need to figure that out!”

“Their relationship is none of your business,” Sam returned, gritting his teeth. “You wanna drive a wedge between them? Or have Bucky totally shut down around all of us?”

“No!” Tony scowled. “Look, if they were both born when we were, they’d be together! And they’d be happy! Isn’t it our responsibility to help them overcome the…the cultural, um, biases of the past? Or something?” he came up with, giving Sam a pleading look. “Otherwise, we’re basically saying that we agree with, like, homophones in the 1800s!”

“Homophobes,” Sam corrected, rolling his eyes and ignoring the 1800s comment. “And look, even if I agreed with your plan, which I don’t, you think this is the best way to go about it? Going straight to sex scenes and heartbreak?” he asked, shaking his head. “Is that really the introduction to gay relationships you want to give them?” he continued, raising his eyebrows.

“Okay, I may not have thought of that,” Tony admitted.

“Genius, my ass,” Sam muttered under his breath, slapping Tony’s hand away when he got pinched for it.

“Ok, ok, how about we just put the idea of it out there? We say…that, um, you don’t want to watch a sad movie, and we say that it’s sad cause the two guys don’t end up together?” Tony asked, gesturing as he talked. “That way,” he added, “it’s not too outright, and they can ignore it if they want, but we’ve put the idea out there, and we’ve made it clear we don’t care?” he rambled on, ending with a questioning look at Sam.

“Fine,” Sam sighed, “but that’s all you’re doing tonight, got it?”“Got it!” Tony agreed immediately. “Let’s go!” he hurried Sam along, as he quickly left the kitchen.

“New plan,” Tony announced, bouncing on his heels. “Sam’s not in the mood for sad movies, so we’re gonna watch a comedy. Right, Sam?”

“Yep, for sure,” Sam agreed. “That movie’s way too depressing. I mean, the two guys don’t even end up together, and I’m in the mood for something more lighthearted,” he rushed through it a bit, refusing to look at Steve or Bucky as he did so.

“Two guys?” Bucky echoed, making Sam jump a little. Bucky didn’t usually volunteer to speak when they were all in a group, unless Steve was staring at him and urging him on.

“Yeah, sorry if I spoiled it, man,” Sam said quickly, wanting to move on.

“Very sad movie,” Tony interjected, “about two men in love who didn’t end up together because of the, y’know attitudes of the, um, culture and the time period,” he added, voice going up as he talked.

Bucky nodded slowly at Tony, still expressionless. Tony glanced at Steve, who looked slightly uncomfortable all of a sudden. He couldn’t tell what was going on in Steve’s head anymore than in Bucky’s, but at least the idea had been introduced.

“Anyway, movie time!” Sam spoke up, shooting a look at Tony, who grabbed the remote and opened Netflix.

“Ok, what are we watching?” Tony asked, putting his feet up as he leaned back. After about 20 minutes of bickering and an incredibly convincing case from Clint, they settled on Clueless.

“Fitting,” Tony thought, glancing over at Steve settling back against Bucky’s chest. Of course, they were both thinking the same thing about him, but he had no way of knowing that.

[sunkissedpages]

We’re Only Kidding Ourselves- Part Nine || Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: sorry this part is hella short but this week has been hectic and I wanted to post something anyway! Also sorry there’s no smut in this part bc sex when one person is fucked up and the other isn’t is not cool (also I didn’t feel like it was the right time but that’s besides the point) but it will happen! Eventually!

Prompt: Enemies to lovers au (from @marvelellie‘s 1k writing challenge!!)

Summary: You work as a production assistant for the Spider-Man: Far From Home crew, or rather as Tom Holland’s handler. The two of you don’t get along very well to say the least, but you won’t quit and he can’t fire you so you’re stuck with each other.

Warnings: swearing, angst (but when isn’t there), mentions of sex, vomit (sorry y’all)

What I listened to while writing: beerbongs and bentleys + the Black Panther Soundtrack bc parties...ya know

Word Count: 1.7k sorry it’s so short (title of ur sex tape)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight

You were already on board to get tipsy, but after watching Tom’s dance moves, you were ready to get shitfaced. The best word to describe his dancing was: white. But he was making an effort, and you respected that.

The bartender looked pleased to see you again. “Another round?” he asked, already reaching for the rum.

“How’d you know?” you teased.

“Lucky guess.” He grinned. His smile was equally as dazzling as the diamond studs in his ears. He poured your drink, capped the rum, and slid the glass across the bar, western movie style. You caught it with ease. “So you’re here with the group that rented out the bar?” You cocked your head at his accent. He was American and it made you wonder why he was all the way across the world working in a club in Italy.

“Yeah that’s us unfortunately.”

He made a face. “Why unfortunately?”

“The event’s mandatory for staff.”

“At least there’s free booze.”

You shrugged. “I’m not sure if I’m actually supposed to be drinking,” you admitted and flashed him your PA pass.

“Well I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“Thanks,” you raised your glass to him and took a sip. You struggled not to make a face. Shit was strong.

“I don’t think I got your name,” he continued.

“It’s y/n.”

“D.J., nice to meet you.”

You grinned. “Likewise. It’s kind of ironic that you’re behind the bar.”

“Never heard that one before,” D.J. chuckled with a smirk. “So how long are you in Venice for?”

“Until the 5th.”

“Hey, if you’re not busy after this-”

You were distracted from whatever D.J. was saying by a cold hand on the small of your back and you jumped, but relaxed when you saw it was just Haz.

“Did you get the drinks?” he asked expectantly. You were confused. He hadn’t asked you to get him any drinks. He’d abandoned you at the door like ten minutes ago. He was smiling at you warmly, but it didn’t meet his eyes.

You stared at him blankly. “You didn’t ask me to get you anything.”

Haz looked at D.J. and chuckled. “She’s already had too much to drink, going and forgetting why she came over here. I’ll just take this one from you, love.” He took the glass from your hands and brought it to his own lips.

As soon as Haz called you ‘love’ D.J. stiffened. Sure was an English saying, but D.J. didn’t know what context Harrison was using it in. Haz didn’t call you love very often and it was the worst possible time he could’ve. Now things were awkward.

“Do you want another one?” D.J. asked you.

You opened your mouth to speak, but Haz went ahead and answered for you. “She’s good, thanks mate.”

You took a deep breath to keep yourself from exploding on the spot and dragged Harrison by the sleeve of his jacket back into the crowd out of earshot from D.J..

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Are you serious?” Harrison asked, equally angry.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?

“Please, y/n, he’s a bartender in one of the biggest tourist destinations in the world. He’s only looking for a quick fuck.”

“And who says that’s not what I’m looking for?” you demanded.

Harrison looked embarrassed. “It’s just not like you.”

“Why, because women can’t have one night stands?”

“No that’s not what,”

“And I need you to fight my battles for me?

“No, y/n-”

“Listen, I haven’t been laid for months because I’ve been working for your best friend, a twenty-two year old child, who takes up my entire fucking life! Do you know what that does to a person? So maybe when I get the opportunity to have my brains fucked out by a stranger I want to take it!”

“Can you lower your voice?”

You let go of his arm. “Yeah, whatever. But next time you ditch me at the door don’t interrupt me when someone starts acting interested.”

You stalked past him, bumping his shoulder and made your way back to the bar where you ordered another drink for yourself. D.J. didn’t hesitate to pour it for you.

It wasn’t the first time Harrison had done something like that and you always figured he was just a protective friend, but his timing was terrible. You didn’t let his weird behavior throw you off for too long though, because the alcohol was finally starting to take the edge off and Zendaya was beckoning you over to dance with her and who were you to deny her?

Z grabbed you by the hand and twirled you around making the world spin around you. You giggled and stumbled into her but she was there to steady you. You danced side by side to the beat, conscious of all the eyes on Zendaya and D.J.’s eyes on you. Light refracted off of the sequins on your dress like a disco ball bouncing all over the room, drawing attention. Zendaya was a much better dancer than you. Hell, she was professionally trained. Maybe you should have been intimidated, but you were having too much fun.

You couldn’t really think straight, but if you could you’d probably be in disbelief that you were having the time of your life with Zendaya in a club in Venice. You were a lucky bitch.

Everyone at the party was absolutely cleaning out the bar. People lost their shit for free alcohol and had zero regard for the inevitable hangover they’d all have tomorrow. Tom was going at a steady pace, tipsy, but not quite drunk yet. You weren’t sure if he was trying to avoid getting sloppy at a press event, or if he was just unaffected by what he’d already drank. You knew the boy could drink. He and Haz were the opposites of lightweights, unlike yourself. Their English blood allowed for them to consume enormous quantities of alcohol with little to no consequences, which meant that they must’ve really gone buckwild in Prague. You were supposed to be keeping an eye on Tom, but at this point you were more gone than he was.

“Aye, might want to slow down,” Tom advised, taking a glass out of your hands somewhere around round four.

“And you might want to fuck off,” you slurred.

“Yeah, I’m not giving this back,” he scoffed and brought the vodka cran to his own mouth. What was it with these boys and them taking your drinks for themselves?

“Wait no, Tom-Tommy,” you pleaded “please?”

Tom paused the glass at his lips and raised his eyebrows at the nickname, but you weren’t even aware you’d said it. He chugged the rest in one go and you gulped as you watched him. You stood in front of him with your arms crossed. “Wanna dance?”  

“Not really,” you pouted.

“Come on,” he laughed and pulled you to the dance floor.

“Tom!” you protested, but he swung you around by the hand, spinning you out and back to him. He caught you with his chest, bringing his other hand to your hips as he swayed you to the beat.

“What if people take pictures?” you whispered.

He shrugged. “They won’t. And even if they did, people can dance with friends.”

“But we’re not friends,” you reminded him.

“Right,” he amended through a tight lipped smile. “Well, people can dance with strangers.”

You let him sway you to a few more songs in the dim light. It was kind of pleasant. He did all of the work. His hands were soft and gentle on your body. If only he wasn’t such an asshole.

“The silver looks nice on you,” Tom whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine despite how hard you fought it.

“Is this your way of saying you’re always right?”

He smirked down at you. “Just take the compliment.”

After the third song you started feeling sweaty. The room was spinning- and not in a good way anymore. You laid your head on Tom’s chest and closed your eyes, willing it to stop.

“You okay?” Tom asked, pulling back and gripping you by the shoulders.

“I don’t feel very good,” you said and watched Tom’s face go white as a sheet. “Mr. Stark.”

“That’s not even the line,” Tom rolled his eyes and chuckled at your bad attempt at a joke, but stopped laughing when you actually gagged. “Okay, let’s get you out of here,” he urged and pushed you through the crowd out into the fresh air.

As soon as you were outside you beelined towards the bushes hunched over them, retching. Tom winced, came up behind you and twisted your hair back between his fingers, rubbing your shoulder soothingly. The action surprised you, but you didn’t push him away.

He stayed with you as you hurled. Tears were streaming from your eyes, but he just spoke to you softly saying it was okay, you’re going to be okay, and that everything would be okay. You straightened and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” you groaned.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugged. ”Happens to the best of us.”

“God, I was supposed to be working tonight, not getting plastered.”

“Why...did you get so wasted?” Tom asked hesitantly. You didn’t answer right away. “Was it to get enough courage to sleep with that bartender?”

You whipped your head around so fast it made you nauseous all over again. “How is that your business?”

“We share a room.” He had a point.

“I mean, I don’t know. Maybe? Why does anyone drink?” you weren’t sure why you were admitting all of this to him, but you couldn’t say it didn’t have anything to do with the alcohol. 

“To forget,” Tom said casually, catching you by surprise. 

You didn’t know how to respond so you just cleared your throat. “You should get back inside, Spider-man.”

“I’m not leaving you out here by yourself, y/n.” He watched you sit on the edge of a brick planter, arms crossed.

“Then send Haz or Harry out, you have to go back to the party you’re the, the-”

“The golden boy?”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” he smiled. “They’ll be fine for a few minutes without me. Here, let me get you back to the room.”

“No, Tom I need to stay,” you argued weakly.

“You’re in no condition to.”

“Why are you acting like you care about me?”

“Who said I didn’t?”

UM YOU DID TOM!! but that’s for next week. Sorry again that this part is shorter than usual but lmk what you think I always appreciate feedback!

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[tisfan]

Title: (Consider this) The Hint of the Century @tisfan Square: R1 - KINK: mind-controlled sex WinterIron Bingo: B2 - Losing Religion @27dragons TSB: S4 - Resurrection  Warning: dub-con (ish), anal sex, ghosts, possession, Bucky has a plan, this wasn’t it Pairing: Bucky/Tony Summary: It’s just a box that they found in the crypt of a desecrated old church that rumor says is haunted. What could possibly go wrong?Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19107763 Word Count: 7382

For @tonystarkbingo and @winterironbingo

A/n https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Puller_von_Hohenburg Richard and Anton are, in fact, real people who had a real relationship and were burned at the stake for it. Obviously, we’ve fic’d it up a bit, but here’s where the origin story came from. 

“God, this place is probably older than I am,” Bucky said, looking around the demolished remains of the cathedral. Admittedly, they were in central Europe in one of those countries that Americans could never seem to remember the name of, and therefore something that was only five hundred years old were ‘upstart buildings.’ So it probably didn’t matter that they’d wrecked the place.

It really wasn’t their fault, Bucky was going to raise his hand and swear before God that they did not mean to knock down the church.

Some wanna be sorcerer had taken over the joint, raised a bunch of zombies with some magical… thingie… and made a complete mess of the entire area, terrorizing the locals. The Avengers hadn’t been called in until the Ghost dude -- he’d shouted his villainy name as being the Ghost Whisperer, or something -- had brought down a damn aircraft with a resurrected pterodactyl. Bucky wasn’t entirely paying attention to the rant-and-rave, being much too involved in the set up and take down part of the operation -- and he was being dragged away by a combination of local police and Dr. Strange.

Tony was consulting with the local police, which involved a lot of hand-waving, and he was clearly growing more and more annoyed by the second. Finally, he stomped back over to Bucky, rolling his eyes so hard that it looked painful. “Strange says the guy had some kind of magical pendant that he was using to... he wasn’t controlling the zombies with it -- that was the grimoire -- but to protect himself from them, maybe? I don’t know, magic doesn’t make any sense to me. Anyway, he doesn’t have it on him, so it’s got to be in there somewhere.” He waved a still-gauntleted hand toward the half-destroyed old church. “And the locals refuse to muster a crew to search for it, because they think the place is haunted.” Another eye-roll. “We just arrested the guy who was haunting it; you’d think they’d get that. But they don’t. So it’s up to us to dig through the mess and find the pendant.”

“Great,” Bucky said, watching Tony stride around through the rubble, occasionally assisted with a repulsored hop or delicate leap. Watching Tony in that armor was like witnessing a very aggressive ballet dancer. Beautiful, powerful, great ass-- Bucky sighed, shook his head. “Seems a little, I dunno, heretical or somethin’. Don’t you think? Digging through church wreckage? I feel bad enough about smashing the building to bits in the first place.”

Tony glanced back over his shoulder. “Didn’t take you for the religious type, Klondike. It’s just a building, really. And Strange says we really can’t let anyone else walk off with that pendant; we’ll just end up with another villain in three weeks.”

Bucky shrugged, a little sheepishly. “I grew up in in the 20’s and 30’s, Stark. I was an altar boy and everything. Used to take communion and listen to the litany in Latin.” He grumped about that; he’d been back to church a few times since Hydra. His first confession in seventy years had taken almost four hours, and he’d barely been able to talk for two days after he was done with his penance. But the service itself was in English, and that had been weird enough that Bucky had mostly given up the habit.

Tony tipped his head a little, which meant he was conceding the point. “Still, I’m pretty sure this place was deconsecrated long before we got here. Zombies will probably do that.” He crouched, took hold of a fallen beam, and heaved it out of the way. “...Huh. There’s a door in here. I didn’t notice that before.”

(more below the cut)

“Where, in the Sancrist-- oh.” Bucky stopped. “Uh. I think I know where he was getting the zombies from. That probably leads down to the catacombs.” He crossed himself, kissed his thumb, and then pushed the door open, very slowly. Haunted, the locals said. Bucky wondered if the place had been haunted before the Ghost Whisperer showed up.

Tony muttered something and a soft, wide light shone out of his chestplate, dimly illuminating the stairs leading down. He eyed the passageway. “Strange definitely said that closing the grimoire would drop any remaining zombies wandering around. So there’s nothing down there to worry about. Just...”

“Dead people.”

“Yeah, that.” Tony hesitated a moment longer, then sighed and started down the stairs. “Okay. Might as well get it over with.”

Bucky crept down behind him, torn between wanting to hold Tony’s hand, because part of him was always going to be that scared Catholic boy who was positive he was going to hell, and the other half wanting to yell Boo and see if Tony shrieked like a little kid, because that would be funny as shit.

“Did the locals specifically say what was haunting, around here, I mean, are we talking angry poltergeist that throws the bones of the dead at us, or just scary sounds at night?”

He was working himself right up, that’s exactly what he was doing. Given that they’d been fighting zombies in the morning, complete with the whole hunger for brains and the horrible smell, he was pretty sure he could be excused.

Still…

“Nope, just ‘haunted’ and ‘cursed’, over and over,” Tony said, sounding annoyed. “There was a bit in there about... it didn’t translate well. The two in one body? The two who became one? Something like that.” He glanced back as he reached the bottom, flashing Bucky that insouciant smirk. “So maybe there’s only two ghosts. I bet we can take ‘em.”

“Lovely,” Bucky said. “I don’t really want to take them anywhere. It’s not like it’s their fault that they’re dead. Someone mucking around with the natural order of shit. Oh-- look at that!”

Bucky turned as something glinted and glittered. It probably should have been blue, reflecting the arc-reactor, but it wasn’t. It was golden, sunshine, and pure. Beautiful. A tomb, carved from marble and inlaid with gold.

On the top of what looked like a double-sized burial chamber were two marble statuettes, naked and beautifully done, almost lifelike, reaching for each other but never quite touching.

“Wow.”

“You said it,” Tony agreed. He came over to look at the tableau. “There’s no dust on them.”

“It’s beautiful,” Bucky said, staring up at the statue. While gorgeously done -- Michelangelo's David might well have been jealous -- the expressions on the statues faces were of people who were in terrible pain. Grief, or despair. Bucky’s gaze was drawn to the space between their hands. “Sad, though.” He walked all the way around the statuary, and then-- “Huh, what’s this, I wonder.” He pointed to a reliquary at the end. There were strange marks on it, but the container didn’t look locked or anything.

“How should I know?” Tony wondered. “You think the pendant might be in there?”

Bucky reached for the box; gold and colored enamel, pictures. He squinted, picked it up. “There’s a story here.” He turned the box around in his hands until he found the beginning, an ancient series of events. A wedding, but the man was looking over his new wife’s shoulder-- at her brother, maybe? The estranged couple fighting, the man fleeing to be with his lover. “God, they were burned at the stake.” Bucky shuddered, still looking at the pictures.

“Well, that’s horrible. What are they doing in the church? I thought heretics weren’t allowed proper burial, or something like that?” Tony came closer, shining his light a little more clearly on the box.

“I don’t know,” Bucky said, his fingers grazing over the lid. “I wonder what’s in it.”

“You probably shouldn’t open that,” Tony said sharply.

“I just want to see,” Bucky protested. “It’s just a box, what harm can there be in looking inside a box?”

“Have you not paid any attention to the movies we’ve watched? At all? There are dozens of movies that explain why it’s a bad idea to open random artifacts in a cursed graveyard.”

“If I took your movies seriously, I wouldn’t go to the beach, either,” Bucky said, getting his nails under the lid and prying at it. “Man-eating sharks and everything.” Ahhh, there, there was a little catch under one side, and he pressed it. “Ha, got it!”

The box opened with a soft hiss and a delicate blue mist flowed out, all shiny, pretty, something highly magical is going on here fog. Great special effects, Bucky had time to think before he inhaled--

Richard von Hohenburg opened his eyes for the first time in six hundred years, looking around. The church, where they’d been tortured, forced to confess, burned, and then cursed. As if what they’d done was so terrible.

He’d been locked in a tiny space, no body, no anything. No contact with the realms of the dead. And sensing that Anton was nearby, sensing it, but not being able to touch him, tell him, apologize, nothing.

But he had eyes now. He could see now.

“Anton?”

                                                        ***

“It’s just a box, what harm can there be in looking inside a box?”

Tony nearly choked on his own spit. “Have you not paid any attention to the movies we’ve watched? At all?” To be fair, Tony hadn’t been paying a lot of attention during those movies, himself, largely because he’d spent them surreptitiously watching Bucky. Not that he had any intention of ever telling Bucky that. “There are dozens of movies that explain why it’s a bad idea to open random artifacts in a cursed graveyard.”

“If I took your movies seriously, I wouldn’t go to the beach, either. Man-eating sharks and everything.” Bucky was peering around the edges and seams of the box, and Tony couldn’t quite suppress a foreboding feeling.

“Maybe we should--”

“Ha, got it!” Bucky flashed Tony a grin, that bright, boyish smile that lit up the room and seemed to dissolve at least half a century’s worth of suffering from Bucky’s eyes.

Which meant that Tony saw, before Bucky, the glowing blue mist that curled up out of the box. “Bucky, back away!” But the mist had already slithered into Bucky’s mouth and nose like a hundred sparkling snakes, and was spreading rapidly.

Tony snapped his helmet closed. “Bucky! Are you okay?”

Bucky’s eyes met his, and for a moment, their normal stormcloud gray flickered and flashed the same blue as the mist.

“Shit, Bu--” The mist was seeping right through his armor, because of course it was, because fucking magic, and this was why Tony was never going on a magic mission again without--

Anton Mätzler gasped his first breath in centuries, since the smoke of the fires had choked out his last. He staggered back, away from the cursed relic with its compartments, keeping him from his beloved even in death.

“Anton?”

Anton’s head turned toward the sound of his name, a voice that was both utterly unfamiliar and at once well-known. “Richard, love?”

“What’s… what’s happened to us?” Richard was staring down at his hands, one was normal, human, if wearing strange gloves with no fingers, but the other-- the other was gleaming silver, unyielding metal, but as flexible as a normal hand. “And you, Anton, my dearest, look at yourself, clad in armor, like a knight?”

Anton looked down at himself. It was a strange armor indeed, with more of magic about it than metalsmith, ghostly messages and symbols writ across his very vision. “A strange knight, indeed,” he said uneasily. “I wonder how one removes such armor.” No sooner had he spoken the words than the armor... unfolded itself, spilling him out into the dank air of -- the crypts? Long abandoned, the sacred tombs fallen into disrepair and rot.

Anton felt no pity for them. Not after what they’d done to him, and to Richard.

He turned toward Richard, hands outstretched. “My love... I know not how this miracle has come to pass, but I can only be joyful to see you again. To touch your hand, your face...”

“I must say, you don’t look quite like yourself, but--” Richard came over to stand directly in front of him, clasped Anton’s hands in his own, and spread them, admiring. “It is a good form, nonetheless. And quite well-displayed in those strange garments. T’was always your brilliant mind that most captivated me, my dearest, although I did not object to a lithe form beneath me.”

Anton laughed. “Nor did I object to being beneath you, though it was your kindness and patience for which I first loved you.”

“Hey, hey, hey, sorry to interrupt, guys--” the voice that came from Richard’s throat was the same, but had a faster, less formal way of talking, an almost incomprehensible rumbling accent. “Tony-- Tony, you okay in there? Stark. Come on--”

Anton shook his head. “I know not this Tony--” And then it seemed he was rudely pushed aside, shoved to the back of his own consciousness, though he felt his throat working as he said, “I’m here, I’m here, Buckaroo, I’m okay. I think.”

Anton tried to push his way back to the forefront. “What sorcery is this?”

“I’m fuckin’ possessed,” Richard complained. “I owe you, like a hundred fuckin’ beers man, when we get out of this--”

“Stop! These forms are ours now,” Richard continued, face working uncomfortably as he seized control of the spirits that shared their bodies. “We have earned this, through countless centuries of torment. You will not--”

“Uh, no, dude, no, just-- ow!”

Richard went to one knee, heaving as if he was going to cast up his accounts, but when he looked back up, from his position on the floor, the twinkle in his eye and the suggestive smirk was entirely Richard’s own. There was a time when Anton would have killed for that look; a time where he had died for it.

Anton felt his own co-habitant jostling him, and wrestled for control. “Bucky! What the hell did you do to him, you--” Anton twisted back into place. “Please,” he said. “We died for our love, only to be held forever apart, unable to so much as whisper. Grant us a short while, at least!” With all his strength, he summoned his memories of the torture -- beatings and burnings, heavy chains and the ducking stool -- and pushed them at his host.

The body stumbled, and it was not Anton’s doing. “Christ,” the other said. “That’s--”

“Here, I’m here, my darling,” Richard said, and it was beyond heaven to be clasped in strong arms, willing to hold him, eager and exalting. “Let me kiss those honeyed lips, so long denied me.”

A kiss, tender and sweet, was pressed against Anton’s forehead, and even if the body was not his own, he felt it, keenly. Doubled, even, with a taste of regret, guilt… longing, underneath, until the sensation was almost unbearable.

Anton pressed into Richard’s arms, and if the feel of the metal one at his back was strange and unyielding, the gentle caresses of the other more than made up for it. “I love you,” Anton whispered, aching with the strength and sincerity of that emotion. “I could not recant that, even in the flames.”

“Nor did I,” Richard promised him. “Thus, this elaborate prison to keep us apart.” He spat through his fingers, protection from evil magics. “And I have you back, in my arms again, and nothing will keep me from you.” He stroked his fingers through Anton’s hair. “Say you will still be mine?”

“I have never been anything else,” Anton swore, “not since the moment of our first meeting.”

“Uh, hey--” The spirit that inhabited Richard’s body shivered and shuddered, “look, no, come on, romantical as all this is, I ain’t-- that’s Tony’s body and this one’s mine, and we’re gonna have to take up habitation again, an’ okay, no, seriously, that’s not fair, get out.. Get out of my memories!”

Anton felt his host’s frantic terror and fiery rage and laughed, delighted. “I believe these two hold each other in near as much esteem as we feel for one another,” he confided.

“It’s not like that--” Richard’s host snarled. “I ain’t nothin’ to him, an’ I don’t…”

“Shhhh, it shall all be well, my host,” Richard said. “You hunger for him, and you shall have him. It will be well. We will treat him… very well.”

“He doesn’t hunger; are you insane?” Anton’s host snapped. “Look, I’m sorry you got killed and locked up in a box for so long, but he’s not interested and you can’t just--”

Anton wrapped mental arms around his host. “My Richard does not lie,” he promised. “Nor are we mad, except with wanting each other. Let us have this, and enjoy your own desires come into fruition.”

“Tony--” and there was not a lot of change in the longing in Richard’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know, maybe it’s me. I can’t… I can’t fight it.”

“Bucky.” Anton’s hand tightened on Richard’s. “It’s, it’s okay. I don’t mind. Not if it’s you.”

And then, with an eager, fervid groan, Richard’s mouth was on his; a kiss of no finesse, no sweetness, but instead all avid hunger, devouring Anton, as if they could become one, as if they could hold each other tight enough to never have to let go.

Anton moaned, surrendering himself to that kiss, wrapping his arms around Richard’s shoulders, clasping at Richard’s clothes and hair and arms, anything he could reach, scrambling to press closer and closer yet, as if determined to merge their bodies into one.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you, Tony, it’s okay,” and that was not Richard, but as he’d stopped fighting, and was letting those hands touch and caress, seemed to know how to unfasten the strange clothing they both wore, had stopped resisting and was now actively helping… well, it was good. It would be well.

Anton’s host -- Tony, apparently, and how strange that their names were so similar -- came forward again, more gently this time, showing Anton the strange clasps and catches that held Richard’s clothes together. “Yeah,” he said. “You always do. I’ve got you, too.”

Too hungry for his lover’s kiss to speak, Anton pressed their mouths together again, tongue flicking at the corner of Richard’s mouth, teasing and tasting.

Richard cupped his jaw with one hand, his thumb teasing at the corner of Anton’s mouth, coaxing it open. “Ain’t you sweet,” he murmured and Anton didn’t even know anymore, who was who, but it didn’t matter, those clever fingers were stroking his skin, raking passion up from the coals that had long since been banked.

Richard ran those hands down his chest, thumbing nipples erect, and then, “Beltpouch, second from the left,” he said, which made no sense whatsoever to Anton, but his host -- Tony -- was already sliding their hand into the indicated-- pocket? On a belt?

What Tony found there was some sort of packet, shiny like metal but softer, and whatever it was, it amused Tony greatly. “Really?” he said. “On a mission?”

“Look, you wanna go in dry with some randy old ghosts, be my guest,” Bucky said, and that didn’t make sense either, but that metal hand was curling around Anton’s member, stroking light. The metal wasn’t cold, either, but warmer than human flesh, and there was the faintest shuddering to it, a vibration from deep inside that stimulated and aroused. “But I done my share of trench quickies, an’ I’d rather be prepared.”

Still amused, Tony conceded the point. A deft twist of their hands opened the packet, and then Tony retreated a little, shooting Anton a burst of memories demonstrating the purpose of the contents -- it was like oil, it seemed, for this very purpose. Anton poured some over his fingers and -- oh, Tony had not been exaggerating; it was so much better than oil. Slicker, smoother. Anton reached between his legs and pushed the stuff into his hole, shuddering at the sweet burn of it.

“God,” Richard said. “You’re so beautiful.”

And Richard was nudging Anton over onto his knees, helping spread the oil, rubbing at the opening of his body eagerly, spreading it, tugging. “Careful now, you gotta-- gentle. It’s… well, I ain’t gonna apologize, but it’s a lot.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Anton returned, teasing. “But I have waited too long to delay any more than necessary. I would have you, my love, and soon.”

One finger pressed inside, thrusting, the slick easing the way, smooth and silky and perfect. Then a second, and that burned, but Anton had experienced fires much more potent, and all it did was make him whine and twist his hips, urging.

The fingers withdrew and then, yes, there it was, pressing urgently on him, and he bent his back, fingers clenching at the stone underneath him.

“Tony--”

“Yes,” they gasped, and Anton wasn’t sure which of them it was, speaking. “I need you, now.”

A strangled moan, hands gripping Anton’s hips, and he was pulled, slowly, impaling himself on Richard’s fine tool, filling him up, stretching him out. One hand went to the small of Anton’s back, rubbing in soft, soothing circles, tracing the line of his spine, and then gripped the curly mass of his hair, tugging his head back.

Anton gasped, curving his back even more, keening at the overload of sensations. “Fill me,” he begged, all shame long since gone, burnt up in their holy fire until all that was left of him was wanton desire, a burning need hotter than any flame. “My love, please!”

“I have you, I--” It was all hard, urgent rhythm then, being thrust into and pulled back from. The body that covered his was unfamiliar, and at the same time, that same, tender lover that Anton had given everything to, and been everything for. They moved together, hurried, racing toward release, eager to share in each other, the way they always had, and it was sweet, and rough, and just this side of blissful.

They moved together, push and pull, rocking together, words unimportant, only feelings, and the fire inside them, until..

“Oh, yes, yes, my darling!”

Anton cried out, groping for his own member; it took no more than a half-dozen frantic strokes before he was spilling, his whole body aching as it tried to clench down around Richard’s still-firm erection. He shivered and shuddered with the force of his release, a sudden wash of relaxation sweeping over him, like a deluge of warm spring rain.

Richard matched him, then moved slowly with him, stroking him down, soothing and sweet, and then he stiffened, biting down on Anton’s shoulder to stifle his scream. “Oh, oh, my darling,” he was saying, kissing the skin, as if tasting the imprint he’d left, his soft tongue stealing away the sting. “It’s always been you. Always you. Forever.”

“Until the end of days,” Anton promised, lassitude creeping in. “My only love.” How he longed for a bed, or even a rough pallet, where they could lie together and rest, tangled in one another’s arms.

“Look, a bed we got,” Richard said, apparently negotiating with his host. “Jus’ need to finish our mission here, yeah? There’s a guy, he hurt a lot of people, an’-- we’re looking for a pendant, about -- so big? You seen anything like that?”

“The priest who tried us wore an amulet of that size,” Anton recalled, sitting back on his heels. “He would have been buried...” Anton considered the catacombs, then pointed. “In that chamber.”

“Thanks,” Richard said, and offered him a hand up, already finding and pulling on his clothes. He made a face, apologetic, and handed Anton a-- surprisingly soft -- pale white shirt with no buttons and no laces. “T’ clean up--”

Anton might have protested, but what else was there to use? He wiped away the oil and the rest of it, rolling the shirt up around it. His host rolled their eyes. “Come on,” Tony said, “let’s find this pendant and get out of here.”

That chamber had been half-heartedly cleaned, and someone had set up a bedroll, and a desk. The cellar had been partially cracked open, perhaps in the battle, but Richard’s host was able to lift a portion of the collapsed rock out of the way.

“Our ghost whisperer,” Richard’s host said. “So, he probably already ransacked this place. You see anything in this mess, Tony?”

Anton moved over to the desk, looking it over. It was a spindly little thing, flimsy and unimpressive. He pulled open the first drawer and shuffled aside a few scraps of paper, and--

Anton backed away. “I don’t like it,” he said decisively. The pendant gleamed with power, sharp-edged enough to separate a man from his own shadow. He couldn’t quite take his eyes off it.

Richard went to him, as if to shield him from the amulet. It buzzed with surging energies, gleaming. “That is what our forms came to find,” he said. “To destroy it, or see it safely locked away, so no one else would suffer what we have suffered. They are, I believe, good men.”

Tony grunted. “Well, that’s the goal,” he said. He looked around. “We need something to put it in, until we can make other arrangements.”

“The box,” Anton said, pointing back the way they’d come. “The prison held us for centuries; it will surely hold this amulet for as long as you need.”

“I shall retrieve it,” Richard said, and he leaned in to kiss Anton’s cheek, soft and sweet. It shouldn’t have hurt to watch him walk away, he was barely going out of sight, and Anton would be able to hear him the whole time. But still, it ached with concern, throbbed with fear. The last time he’d let Richard out of his sight, they’d been separated, imprisoned. Told always that if he was willing to recant, to confess, to point the finger at his lover, that he would be spared. Told that Richard had recanted.

Anton had never believed that. Ever.

And, in the end, he was thus proven. Faithful, through all the long-- “How long, even, has it been, good host? What is the year?”

“What? It’s twenty-nineteen. Er, two thousand nineteen.” Tony, too, was watching the way Richard had gone, though Anton rather suspected it was the host who occupied Tony’s thoughts.

“That is… quite a long while to be imprisoned and alone,” Anton said. “We died in the year of our Lord, 1482. Richard was a knight, from Switzerland. I was his servant… and his downfall. He gave me gifts, clothing and jewels, and-- I looked too high for my station, so the church… declared us heretics.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony said. “Things are... better, now.”

“This thing ain’t exactly light,” Richard’s host complained, coming back into the room, “but I guess it’ll do as good as any. Strange’ll make heads or tails out of the whole mess anyway. Pop it in the box.”

Anton reached out and then hesitated, not quite able to make himself touch the horrible thing. Tony took over, scooping it up. It felt cold, much colder than mere metal and stone should be, even in a crypt.

There was a tug, like something pulling at his soul, loosening it.

“You know you have to go, right?” Richard’s host said, and it was very gentle. He reached out, touched his flesh hand to the other side of the medallion. “Not back in the box, but… you died. It’s time t’ move on. Tony can make a big church donation, get the bishop t’ do Last Rites, or whatever.”

Anton’s vision blurred. “Must we? We’ve only just come together again, and I’ve missed you, my love, so much.”

“Wish for it,” Richard’s host said. “You can feel it, right? The power the amulet’s got over the dead. Stay together, all eternity. No heaven or hell without the other.”

“Richard?” Anton wasn’t even sure what he was asking, but he needed to see the spark of his lover in those strange gray eyes, one last time.

“I am here,” Richard said. “And I will-- always protect you. Even if I failed before, I can-- together. Always.”

“Always,” Anton promised through his tears. “Until the end of days.”

There was another tug, and--

“Well, that’s… look at you, all non-corporeal and shit,” Richard’s host said, although he wasn’t really the host anymore, and Anton couldn’t seem to bring himself to call him Bucky, like he was some sort of pet deer or something.

Nor was Anton still in Tony’s body. Rather, they floated above the two men, and when he looked at Richard, he saw -- a ghost, like a wisp of smoke caught in a Richard-shaped glass, but it was Richard, the countenance he’d known and loved. “Oh, my love.” He reached out and, incorporeal as Richard looked, he felt solid, even warm, to Anton’s touch.

“My most beloved,” Richard said. “Always. We will have it, our forever.”

“Uh, so, like, it was good to meet you an’ all, but we really need to get this thing gone and safe,” Bucky said. “An’ like, totally take a shower.”

“I’m seconding the shower idea,” Tony agreed. “You two lovebirds have a good time, now. Don’t spook anyone who doesn’t deserve it.” The ghosts barely even glanced at them, then they were fading away entirely, hands twined and hearts in their eyes.

Tony dropped the pendant into the box that Bucky was still holding and twisted the cover into place. “Right, well. That’s that, then, I guess.”

“It… uh, it was somethin’, all right,” Bucky said, not quite meeting Tony’s gaze, cheeks and neck flushing.

And they were both standing around in an abandoned and half-destroyed church’s catacombs in their underwear. Because they’d let a couple of ghosts use them to fuck.

Yeah, that was going to land pretty high on the Weird Shit rankings, and Tony was just going to hope Bucky attributed the embarrassing stuff Tony’d said to ghost. That would probably be for the best. “So. We should probably, you know. Get dressed. And get this back to Strange.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “Totally that’s what we should do.” His hand fluttered a moment, like some wounded butterfly, in the space between them, and then dropped it before he could make contact. “Uh. Are you okay?”

“What? Fine,” Tony said, only a little brittle. “Never better. Well. Tired. And I really want that shower.” He eased past Bucky and went back to where his armor waited, his clothes still crumpled on the floor where they’d been dropped. He picked up his jeans and pulled them on.

“You know,” Bucky said, staring at his tactical armor, all over the place. “This is why Strange can portal. I gotta put all this shit back on… for what, ten minutes while we cross town?” Bucky gave Tony a grin, a little hesitant, like he wasn’t sure that Tony was going to laugh at his jokes anymore.

Tony grinned back. It wasn’t like he’d forgotten how to fake being relaxed and easy with someone he’d seen naked. And he didn’t want to stop laughing at Bucky’s jokes, anyway. They were friends, these days; once the awkward wore off, Tony wanted them to stay that way. “I mean, you could stroll across town shirtless,” he suggested. “Earn a lot of local goodwill that way.”

“I am shirtless,” Bucky pointed out. “You… uh… yeah, I have a tac-vest, but. My undershirt was sacrificed to the cause. It’s good, it’s great. I mean… we’re okay, yeah?”

“Of course,” Tony said. He pulled on his t-shirt and stepped back into the armor. “I mean, awkward. But no reason not to be okay.”

Bucky just nodded at that, threw the tac vest on and didn’t bother to lock it in place, showing off arms, and ribs, and the very bottom strip of his belly between his pants and the bottom of the vest. He bent down and hefted the case under one arm, and his gun in the other hand. He didn’t say anything then, either, just jerked his chin toward the exit, watching Tony with eyes that seemed somehow… thoughtful.

Tony wondered what those thoughts were, but shut that down almost immediately. It didn’t matter. They were going back to their separate rooms at the hotel, take hot showers, and catch a night’s sleep. And then in the morning, everything would be back to normal. He nodded and made his way back out of the church.

                                                          ***

Bucky couldn’t decide if he was feeling satisfied and smug, or guilty, and the two extremes were yanking at him. He showered, water hot enough to boil a lobster, until his skin was pink and stinging. It would fade soon enough. It always did.

Ug. This was not how he wanted any of this shit to go down.

Tony had been drawing back the whole time between when the spirits departed and when he’d faux-cheerfully waved Bucky off into the next room.

They needed to talk.

And god damn, if there was one thing Bucky was really, really bad at, it was talking. And in that subset of bad things about talking, there was talking about feelings. Bucky hadn’t had bloody damn feelings in so long, figuring out what to do with them sometimes took him all damn day.

Sit a plate in front of him, and he’d eat. Ask him what he wanted to watch on the television and he’d freeze up for an hour or more, trying to decide.

But letting Tony get back to the Compound without talking about this, or making a terrible attempt at talking about this, and Bucky wouldn’t see him for a week or more, while he hid down in the ‘shop and pretended that nothing ever happened, he was fine, why?

“Fuck.”

Well, yeah, and that’s exactly what had happened, too.

Bucky yanked on a pair of soft sweatpants, a tee, and a hoodie, his preferred clothing for between missions.

Knocking was pointless. Tony would pretend not to hear him, if he didn’t want to talk. Bucky was going to go with the Natasha method of talking shit out. It took him exactly six seconds to scramble the hotel’s expensive key-card entry system and he let himself into Tony’s room.

Tony… was still in the shower.

Which was, in and of itself, a little worrisome. Was he washing… Bucky off?

Bucky threw himself down on Tony’s bed and prepared to wait it out.

Not too much later, the water shut off. Another moment or two while he dried off, and then the bathroom door opened, and Tony walked out, stark naked, still scrubbing a towel over his hair and humming something under his breath.

“Oh shit! Fuck!” Tony practically teleported back three feet when he spotted Bucky on the bed, jostling the towel down to cover himself, more or less. Mostly less. “What the fuck!”

“Oh, my god, stop screaming, it’s just me,” Bucky said, sitting up. “And I literally just saw… all of that, like not two hours ago.”

Tony pressed a hand to his chest, the other one still holding the towel over his groin. “Jesus, don’t do that shit. Christ, you take in a handful of spies and assassins and suddenly there’s no privacy anymore.” He grabbed up a pair of sweats and pulled them on quickly, half-turning in an effort to preserve his modesty that only gave Bucky a really fantastic view of his ass. “What do you want?”

“You--” Bucky said, and Tony shot him a look so incredulously disbelieving that Bucky amended his statement somewhat. “To talk this out with me, Tony. I mean, maybe you didn’t notice, or somethin’ but we just had sex. I think… we should talk about it.”

Tony huffed, then opened the mini-fridge and pulled out a couple of bottles of beer. Local stuff, so it probably wasn’t swill. He tossed one toward Bucky. “What, you want a Yelp review? ‘Four stars; excellent technique and presentation but the ambiance left something to be desired.’”

“That was shitty technique,” Bucky said. “I totally would have-- it was rushed and relatively unconcerned about your pleasure. I’m just saying. If I was… in control of the situation.”

Tony took a swig from his bottle, throat working as he swallowed, his still-damp hair dripping water down his chest. “If you were in control of the situation,” he said, “it wouldn’t have happened.”

“Well, no,” Bucky admitted, “because I ain’t crass enough-- okay, no, not true, I’m totally crass enough t’ ask a fella for a quickie after a near-death experience. Jus’, you know, not… you. I wouldn’t do you like that. An’ I’m sorry as hell that it went down this way.”

“This way?” Tony was giving him that sardonic look, the one he used a lot when he was being snarky at the press. “What way would you have preferred, dare I ask?”

“I had a plan,” Bucky muttered. “I know they say Steve’s the man with the plan, but that idiotic bastard jumps out of airplanes with no chute, he doesn’t have a plan, he’s got a chip on his shoulder the size of the Titanic. I… I had a plan. Thought it might have been goin’ well. These days, we split off for a mission, I’m usually your backup. Which is good, right? You trust me… trusted. Me.”

Bucky sighed. Tony probably didn’t trust him at all, anymore. And Bucky didn’t blame him, not one bit, really. It wasn’t his fault, but-- but it was. He was the one who opened the damn box, wasn’t he? And he was the one who didn’t fight it, because he wanted Tony, and it was so damn easy to just let Richard have his way, have his body, have Tony’s body under him.

God damn it.

Frowning, Tony sank down onto the little desk chair. He rolled the bottle between his hands, intent. “You had a plan,” he repeated slowly. “For... me?”

“Yeah,” Bucky admitted. “We already-- the concert series, this spring, that we went to? I know you like music, an’ I’m still tryin’ to figure out what I like, so… we had fun, right? That was fun?”

“Yeah, that was great, I-- Wait, that was... part of the plan? The plan where... What, exactly, is the end goal of this plan?” Tony’s eyes couldn’t possibly get any more focused.

“The plan, Tony--” Bucky said, and he couldn’t quite resist the urge to roll his eyes, “was for us t’, you know, figure out if we liked each other. I mean, that’s what people do, when they like a fella, think he’s somethin’ else. If we like spendin’ time together, not the whole saving the world shit, that gets old, but… normal stuff. An’ then, I was plannin’ to see if maybe you liked me back, an’ we could spend more time together. I got… I got so much time back, Tony, and I just want to live it, an’ share it with someone special, and I thought… maybe that could be you.”

Tony’s lips moved, soundlessly, repeating the phrase someone special to himself. “You’re talking about dating,” he said, looking startled. “The plan was to date me?”

The plan itself had gone up to dating.

That Bucky had wild and crazy flights of fancy after that, well, he didn’t need to dump his whole heart on the ground right this second, did he?

“The plan was to find out if we wanted to date. Or… whatever,” Bucky said, waving a hand. “Who knows, you couldda been terrible to hang out with. Not… I mean, you weren’t, you were great, it was… yes. The plan was to date you. I thought it was goin’ well, and now it’s all smashed to shit, an’... it wasn’t my fault, except that it was, and Tony, I am so, so sorry.”

Apparently he did need to dump his whole heart on the ground, right this second.

“Oh my god, I’m an idiot,” Tony said. He was staring at Bucky, though at least he didn’t look angry or disgusted. “Those were dates. How did I not-- Well, obviously, because I was too busy trying not to let on how much I wanted them to be dates to realize they actually were.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Idiot,” he reiterated.

“So, uh, it was goin’ well?” Bucky asked, because Tony was getting really deep into self-recriminations, and that wasn’t the direction Bucky wanted this to go, at all.

Tony lowered his hand, and he was smiling, not that practiced press smirk, but a wry, almost hesitant smile that was purely Tony. “It was going well,” he said. “Maybe a little slower than it needed to be.”

Bucky blinked. “I tried for a kiss once, and you backed off an’ asked me if you had cheese on your shirt,” he pointed out. “I thought… I dunno. But you didn’t say no, the next time I asked you to go somewhere, so--”

“I thought I was imagining that,” Tony said. “I thought... overactive imagination, it’s a thing, with me. Also, I did in fact have cheese on my shirt,” he pointed out. “Your first kiss with someone shouldn’t be with them looking like a slob who’d just nosedived into the nachos.”

“They were really good nachos, though,” Bucky said. “I was brushing crumbs out of my shirt, too.” He inched a little closer, probably not being as smooth as he would like to be. “So, what-- should my first kiss with someone be like?”

“It probably should also not be because you’ve been possessed by a couple of horny ghosts,” Tony said. “I think... I think maybe it should be after you’ve told someone you like them, just so you’re both on the same page. And then it should be...” Tony swept forward, fingers curling into Bucky’s hair, palm cupping the back of his neck as Tony’s mouth brushed over Bucky’s lightly once, twice, three times, teasing, drawing away when Bucky tried to lean into it, and then finally lingering, tongue flicking against Bucky’s lip. “A little like that,” Tony finished, a little breathless.

“Just a little like that?” Bucky asked, his thumb brushing against Tony’s jaw, coaxing him to stay, to sit down, to-- enjoy the moment, Barnes, you didn’t think you were going to get to have one.

“Well, you know, there’s a lot of variables, it’s impossible to account for all of them at once.” Tony hadn’t pulled away, was tipping his head into the light caress. “Lots of different ways a kiss can go, you know.” His eyes were wide and dark and full of something like wonder.

“We could, uh, try some of them out, if that… was a thing you wanted to explore?” Bucky suggested, hopefully.

“We’ll have to test all of them,” Tony said thoughtfully. “Probably more than once. Science requires repetition, you know.”

“It’s only science if you write it down,” Bucky said. “An’ uh, I was thinkin’ this was more of a what happens in Zurich stays in Zurich kinda sitch here. I mean, not the dating. Or the kissing, that’s… I’m totally open t’ you know, having the team. Well, know. Not that Nat doesn’t already, but… spies, what can you do? But… I think we can skip on the whole sexual possession post-mission report.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s fair, that’s... definitely not anything anyone else needs to know about,” Tony said. “Went down into the catacombs, found his camp and the necklace, the end.” He brushed his thumb down the side of Bucky’s neck, considering. “So what’s your candidate, then? For a kiss?”

“Oh, I kinda like those standing kisses, pushin’ someone back against a wall, and kiss til your legs get all weak an’ the wall’s the only thing holdin’ you up,” Bucky said. “That’s my favorite.”

“Yeah?” Tony looked around. “Oh look. A wall.” He hooked his hand in Bucky’s shirt and tugged until they were both upright. “Want to show me?”

"I would, in fact, love to," Bucky growled. New plan, his brain decided. How to get Tony out of these pants and into the bed, a three phase project.