#i’m so happy that fuck ass doctor referred me to another doctor in the building because he was so nice and attentive

[heartual]

had such a good experience with surgery today i can’t even fully explain

[alaffy]

Only Murders in the Building, Ep.3x05 – Ah, Love! (spoilers)

Okay, I got to ask (and this is going to be a slight spoiler with no context), did no one consider going to an emergency dentist?  I know it wasn’t salvageable, but dear God in heaven.  Anyway….

I mentioned last week that I wasn’t quite getting into the mystery like I had the first two seasons.  That changed with this episode.  The three main characters all had their own storyline this episode and I plan to discuss each separately in order of what I think is important.

Mabel is going out on a stake out/dinner with Tobert.  Tobert believes that Howard’s boyfriend, and Ben’s understudy, might have something to do with the murder.  So, he invited Mabel to the lounge that the boyfriend is performing at.  Well, this is all partly true.  Tobert did believe that the boyfriend had something to do with the murder, but has changed his mind.  Still, he wanted to see Mabel so he conveniently forgot to tell her that he no longer had a suspect.  She, due to plot, doesn’t just leave his ass.  This turns out to be a good thing because Mabel happens to see the boyfriend, John I think, meet with another man.  John gives the man an envelope and the man gives Johnn a piece of paper.  Long story short, John sees Mabel and leaves.  But not before Tobert see the man and realizes it’s a doctor that Ben’s saw.  Tobert only knows him as Dr. C and he doesn’t know why Ben sees him.  Mabel takes Tobert to her apartment to add Dr. C to the board and because Mabel needs a love interest, I guess.  Sorry, but I don’t think this will go anywhere (the suspect and the romance).

Speaking of love interests, Charles has to figure out a way to ask Joy about the lipstick in the dressing room.  Not surprisingly, Joy doesn’t take well to being accused of murder. She decides she’s going to go to taste the wedding cakes by herself.  But before she leaves, Sazz happens to show up bearing a wedding gift.  Now, here’s the thing, last week I felt that something was suspicious about Joy and her relationship with Charles.  Now, I’m just confused.  See, Sazz also knows Joy and is shocked that Charles would think Joy killed anyone.  And, long story short, Sazz is able to make Charles realize that his anxiety from his relationship comes from the fact that he’s afraid of joy (that is joy or happiness, not the woman).  Anyway, Joy comes home and we find out that she was in Ben’s dressing room because she had to cover a welt on his face as he had been hit.  Something that Charles knew, well he knew Ben had a welt, because Charles hit him (we’ll get to the why in a moment).  Of course, in trying to explain everything to Joy, Charles lets it slip that he didn’t mean to purpose to Joy.  And she seemed generally surprised by this, which surprised me because I figured she had tricked him into believing he proposed.  But then Joy said something about she had hoped he was changing, by which I think she meant that…she’s known him a long time and I think, maybe, she’s been hooked on him for awhile, but didn’t say anything because of certain parts of his behavior.  And I think she thought those parts weren’t part of him anymore and took a chance.  Or maybe she was trying to change him.  I don’t know…I still feel like something’s off here.

But let’s move on to Oliver.  And this is where my attention was really drawn.  So, brief overview Oliver is on his first date with Loretta and it doesn’t go well at first.  She tries to cook him a meal, but the meat is too tough and Oliver ends up losing a tooth.  Loretta takes him on a ferry trip in order to throw the tooth overboard under a bridge (look, it’s…yeah) and then Oliver and Loretta go back to her place to “have dessert.”  But there a several things that happen during this story that are interesting. 

During the meal, Loretta mentions that she’s played a bunch of pig roles and then says the words “fucking pig.”  Then, she specifically references Ben as a “fucking pig,” but doesn’t elaborate at that time. 

Then, on the ferry, Loretta pulls out this doobie that, long story short, was rolled by Oliver at Grace Slick’s (?) birthday party at Studio 54.  Both Oliver and Loretta were at that party.  Oliver mentions that they must have run in the same crowds, but somehow never met each other.  However, Loretta says that she, in fact, noticed him and wanted to be in one of his productions.  However, she seemed to have bad luck and was never able to try out until now.  So, now we’re establishing that she’s known of Oliver for awhile.

Later, she confesses to Oliver the reason why she called Ben a “fucking pig.”  Turns out that they had a fight just before the play was to open.  Loretta claims that Ben told her that he didn’t want to share the stage with a nobody and we do see a flashback where Ben has grabbed Loretta and there is some sort of fight going on.  Now, we don’t know exactly what was said, but we do know that Ben grabbed Loretta as Charles saw Loretta trying to get away from Ben and, that is why Charles hit Ben.  Also, going back to the end of season two; Charles tells Ben to "stay away from her." Well, we seem to know who "her" is now.

Finally, at the end of the episode, Loretta and Oliver are in bed together.  Loretta gets up to draw a bath for the both of them and Oliver begins to look around the apartment.  There, hidden on a bookcase, he happens to see a newspaper clipping about Ben peaking out of a book.  Oliver pulls out the book and it turns out to be a scrapbook filled with articles about Ben.  What makes this even more disturbing is that it is clear that book isn’t new.  The pages are kind of brown, it’s clear that the books been used for quite some time; so she’s been following Ben’s career for a while.  The question is, why?  I mean, I still don’t think she’s the killer.  But she seems to take Ben’s behavior very much to heart.  There’s a connection between them that we’re missing. 

What do we know about Ben’s family?  He did say once that his childhood acting career paid the bills.  I would wonder if Ben was Loretta’s child, but then that doesn’t make sense as we also have Ben’s brother.  Unless, of course, Ben was adopted or Ben is only his half-brother.  I don’t really believe this is where they’re going with this…at the same time, it also wouldn’t surprise me if that’s where they’re going.    

[dancingintheraindreamingonday]

A little wicked - Chapter 9

Author’s note: This will probably be the last chapter of my Bucky series. What a journey. Thanks to everyone!! 

Warning: Huge plot twist, that even I haven’t seen coming when I first wrote the story.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

„Do you wanna live in Delacroix?“, You ask Bucky as you set the table for dinner. 

“Why are you asking?”

“I saw how much you enjoyed your time there and we’re still looking for a house. So...why not looking there?” 

After you got kidnapped in your old house, Bucky refused to live there again. 

“I thought you loved the city life.” 

“I don’t really care anymore where we live as long as we live together.” 

„I’m really lucky to be your husband.“, Bucky kisses you but stoppes as he receives a call from Sam. „There was an attack at the GRC conference. Sam needs me.“

„Go. Be safe. And kick their asses.“, you smile weakly as Bucky leaves your flat. 

As soon as he left, you check your phone seeing the messages you received, warning you about the upcoming attack hours ago. 

After making sure that Alex is safe and he’s taken care of you leave your apartment as well. A car is already waiting for you, taking you to the building where the conference is being held.

~*~

You’re standing in the shadow watching Sharon, Bucky and Sam talking. You know that Sam and Bucky will have each other’s back. That’s why you only observe Sharon and eventually follow her. 

Batroc points a gun at Sharon demanding more money. Morgenthau points her gun at her too. 

You curse under your breath as you come out of your hiding and without any warning you shot Batroc straight in the head without shaking. Sharon and Morgenthau shot each other while the later is deadly injured. 

“You are a great actress, Sharon. I’m really impressed.”, you say as you put your gun away. 

“Why didn’t you tell me your plan? I warned your days before the kidnapping that they will come for you. I don’t understand it.”, Sharon got shot in her stomach, breathing hard. 

“I knew Hydra would come- sooner or later. They wanted Alex to experiment with. And I also knew Valentina would think you’re the Power Broker and wanted to work with you. Thats why I spoke on your answering machine. So that you could gain her trust. That James and Sam found it was a coincidence but you played along. Really good. So when they came to kidnapp me, I offered myself. And they couldn’t believe their luck. Pregnant, vice-director of Shield and the wife of the winter soldier. I knew they would take me and experiment with me with their last serum they got. The last serum because the others got stolen and I knew Zemo would kill the doctor eventually. They wasted their last serum on me without knowing I’m immune. And when they think you’re dying they tell you everything. I needed that information about Valentina. It was definitely worth it.”

You look on your watch.

“Sam will be here any minute so I better be going. You...” you look at Sharon “will stay here in the city. I have a little present for you in the next days. And you...” you look at Karli “You shouldn’t have stolen the serum from me. And you shouldn’t have fight James. Killing the other super soldier wasn’t my plan in the beginning. You’re just a means to an end.” 

You walk away and leave the hall before Sam sees you. 

~*~*~

Cameras and lot of people were standing and watching Sam reasoning and convincing the GRC. You pass the police officers as they prevent the crowd to come even closer. „Did you write that down first or was it off the top of your head? Spoken like the true Captain America.“, you smile as you walk to the men. „Ah. Director Barnes, good seeing you here. There’s lot to talk about after todays event.“ The man says after he shakes your right hand. „And we will.“, you lay your left hand on top of his while still shaking. „(Y/f/n), what are you doing here? Does Bucky know you’re here?“, Sam looks at you suspiciously. „SHIELD is always there where bad things happen.“, leaving the equivocation unanswered. 

„Excuse me, I need to make sure that the remaining terrorist are safely escorted to jail.“, and with that you turn around but not walking to the cars where the rebels are in but to another car in the shadow. A man walks up to you with a little device in his hand that looks very similar to a remote. „Thanks, Stan. Good work. See you later.“ You say as you take the device and walk further. You knock at the car window and open it. „Do you want me to press the button or do you want to do it yourself?“, you say in perfect German. „I’ll do it on my own.“, answers the man in the car, taking the device and presses the button. The explosion is huge and lightens up the inside of the car your inside. „Good. Very good. We’re even.“, says the man. You smile knowing that James is finally off Zemo’s list. You sacrificed the flag smashers for James, but you don’t feel any remorse. You would do anything to protect your family. 

~*~*~

„(Y/f/n)!“, James shouts. He’s running and looking for you in panic. „James, I’m here.“, you scream back as you run in his direction. „God, (y/f/n), what the fuck are you doing here?! It isn’t safe here for you. For you both.“ Bucky looks at you and on your stomach. „When Sam told me you were here and the car exploded, I thought… I thought…“ He can’t finish the sentence and you hug him tightly. „I’m sorry. I didn’t want to scare you. I’m here as a representative for SHIELD.“

„Sharon’s here. I’ve heard she will stay in town.“, Bucky grunts still not forgiving her. „I know. I forgave her. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trusting her, but I know the bad influence Madripoor has on people. Maybe she will change.“, you lie.

„Your kindness always amazes me.“, says Bucky as he kisses your head. 

~*~*~

Three days later you open the door to your office. A small brown package is on your desk. You open it and as you realize what it is you can’t help but smile. Inside of the package was the book „The prince“ by Machiavelli. It’s the same book you sent Zemo some time ago. You open it and see Zemo’s graceful handwriting One is controlled but the other is still standing

You know immediately who Zemo is referring to. Bucky and Walker.

When you found out that HYDRA is working on the serum again, and when you stole it and then the flag smashers sole it from you, you knew it was just a question of time till Zemo will be out of jail and take a side. And you wanted him to be on yours. So you visited him and made sure that you both are on the same page- that the other super soldiers have to die but not James. You made clear that Bucky wasn’t a threat. That he’s broken trying to make amend for his killing. That he has settled and there is no need for Zemo to kill Bucky. And Zemo liked you- you were both born in Leipzig and you both had difficulties to cope with loss. Two smart minds wanting to destroy the serum.

You take the book to your bookshelf making a mental note to visit Zemo in the Raft.

Someone knocks at your door. Sharon Carter. 

„They offered me full pardon.“, says Carter as she walks into your office. „I know.“ You say. „I wrote the text that the senator read aloud.“ 

„So, I’ll be working in my old division?“, asks Sharon. „No. Thats not happening, Sharon.“, you laugh.

„But I’ve got you a job that’s even better. You will work for SWORD. Its an extra-governmental intelligence agency. Probably you’ve heard about them. Their former leader Hayward was a pain in the ass. Like Pierce 2.0. I’ve heard Fury wants to work there and because of his relationship with Valentina, I’m not trusting him at the moment. So you will work there and keep an eye on everyone. Oh and I hope you told your assistant that the super soldiers are off the menu. But there are other things we can offer.“

„I already called her about that. But there is still one question I have. How did you become director?“

You smile wickedly. „Well, the arrogance of men never ceases to amaze me. When Sam gave the shield away it was just a question of time till they demand a new Captain America. And everyone wanted John Walker. Received three Medals of honor, good looking and a soldier who does everything  what is commanded than rather what is right. I didn’t like him. James told me years ago, that you can see madness in people’s eyes and man, his eyes were full with madness. So I didn’t agree with the board but the director and vice-director both has to agree. So I made them an offer. I told them that for this voting they can outvote me if everyone on the board agrees with our director. And if Walker does his job well I will leave my position. But if he fails, I will be the new director. All they did was laugh at me. They of course outvoted me and they even planned my goodbye-party. And I just waited and waited. And with Walker being so unstable I didn’t waited for long. And now I’m here and the director is gone and most of the board members as well. Arrogance is dangerous. Never estimate your opponent.“

„So where is Walker now?“

„I’m not sure but I’m pretty certain that he’s with Valentina and they are up to no good. Valentina wants James dead and Walker wants Sam dead because Sam is the new and definitely the better Captain America.“

~*~*~

A week later, you, Bucky and Alex are sitting in the car heading to Sam’s home town. The letter from Tony is laying in your purse. The envelope is still sealed but the answer in it isn’t unknown to you. You’ve known the answer for years, never telling anyone, not even James. People would be intimated if they’d known your heritage- your dad’s and your mom’s. And you learned that being an intimating woman only makes men defensive and its hard to work with them. Men need to feel strong and useful and that’s your strength. You always know how to make men feel that way around you, even it it’s just an illusion and even now that you’re the director they don’t feel intimated and that makes them careless and easy to read. 

„I never felt so much happiness than in this moment right now. It feels like a new chapter is starting.“, you grin at Bucky caressing his cheek. His five o’clock shadow tickles you and he leans against your hand. 

„Falling in love with you in Bucharest seems like so long ago. It’s been so difficult, James. This is a dream come true. Having a normal life with you is all I’ve ever wanted.“

Bucky stops the car in the middle of the road. He bends over you, kissing you possessively and pressing you against your car door. „You’re my home, (y/f/n). You’re my constant, my hope, my life and my family. Being loved by you is the greatest gift.“ He kisses you again, trailing soft kisses on your neck. 

You giggle freely and even though it arouses you tremendously you stop Bucky. „No sex in the car, while Alex is still here.“

Bucky grins playfully as he starts the car. „We will continue this later.“ 

~*~*~

Sam’s hometown celebrates the new Captain America and as Bucky arrives they also celebrates him as the white wolf. 

You danced and talked and ate and forgot everything you’ve ever done for the sake of your family until you receive a text message from Stan, who is securing the surrounding. Fury’s on his way to Delacroix. Accompanied by Hill and Dave. 2 minutes.

Dave is a co-worker of you. Of course he doesn’t know anything but his betrayal angers you anyway and there will be consequences.

„Is that Fury? What is he doing here? And why does he look so angry?“, asks Bucky Sam. Bucky hands you Alex over, who was relaxing on Bucky’s shoulders and both men are walking up to him, ignoring or maybe just forgetting that it is you who holds the most power and the reason for Fury’s visit. 

Everyone is underestimating you just like you’ve always wanted. 

  @inlovewith3 @jackiehollanderr @homesicam@dreamydreamerwriting @losers-club6 @gengen64@agentsofsheilds @crimson-darling @akkinda10 @xemine@bubblegumholland @chipilerendi @iamasimpingh0e @bbmommy0902 @madddiiee26 @teenagedreams-bucky @aya-fay @idontknowwhatthisisfam @w-wolfhxrd @useless-creature-213   @angywritesstuff @supernaturalcat7 @harrys-stan @geek-and-proud @pastel-boy-sungjae @austynparksandpizza @maxsaturdayhatesnarwhals  @teenagedreams-bucky @auds24 @ah-blossom @supraveng @lady-loki-ren @freakyhood96 @bbl32

[hermannsthumb]

So I just saw your Halloween prompts! I don't think you've done this one yet so could you do "we hate each other but we were invited to a mutual friend’s party and were warned to be civil so you complimented my costume and fuck you, i haven’t changed yet"?

from halloween prompts here

ok I thought I'd get a little funky with this one and set it within the first year of them getting shoved in the shatterdome together when they’re just total dicks to each other. for reference this is the ABSOLUTE EXACT OUTFIT NEWT IS WEARING!!!!!

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

Newt arrives fashionably late to the party.

Well, it’s more just like late late. His date with a hot ranger hopeful went a little over schedule, so over schedule Newt had to straight-up bail on the guy before they got the check, which he felt bad about, and then he left his phone in the bar and had to double back for it (awkwardly pretending he didn’t notice his date chatting up another guy at the counter), and then he missed his bus and had to hail the most expensive Uber ride of all time, and basically didn’t make it back to base until well after he’d promised to appear with cupcakes. Newt spent a shit-ton of time on those cupcakes and basically sold his soul to get the ingredients for them (rationing, man, it’s killing his amateur baker dreams), so he books it to the break room with the tray without even bothering to change into his costume first. These are more important.

Everything is in full swing when he gets there. The lightbulbs in the overhead lights have been swapped out for purple ones, and the music is pulsing so loud Newt feels it vibrating in his stomach; tacky Halloween garland, most of it homemade, is hung from practically everything; every available surface not cluttered with bottles of cheap booze or chip bowls is cluttered with plastic Jack-O-Lanterns and dripping black candles. In short, it looks pretty fucking fun. Newt squeezes his way through the costumed crowd, rearranges a few candles to carefully slip his cupcakes onto one of the repurposed card tables in a place of honor, and resolves to make himself a drink with the first bottle of something he finds that’s not fruit-flavored—he’s earned it after his shitty night.

There’s a tap at his shoulder before he can make good on his promise to himself of a drink. “Yeah, whatever, I know I’m late, dude,” he shouts over the music. “It’s been a night. I—” He turns. “Oh.”

It’s not Hermann like he (admittedly, foolishly) thought, but rather Tendo, who’s already flushed a bright red, undoubtedly from whatever horrific purple concoction is in his paper cup. Newt wonders if it’s what’s currently foaming in the ominous black cauldron labeled Witch’s Brew next to the cheese dip. He’ll pass, thanks. “It’s about time,” Tendo says. “Gottlieb has been on my ass all fuckin’ night long about where you are. Go find him already.”

“Hermann’s been on your ass about me?” Newt says, eyebrows jumping. Out of everyone in this entire goddamn room—including the janitorial staff, who have had a bone to pick with Newt ever since his ill-advised kaiju eyeball experiment, and resulting explosion, that left the laboratory coated in slime for a week—Hermann is perhaps the very last person he would ever expect to give a shit about his whereabouts. It’s just that Hermann prides himself on not caring about Newt’s personal life, something he takes great care to remind Newt of at every possible opportunity, and Newt would’ve thought he’d have jumped at the chance to enjoy every Newt-free second to the fullest. He should know well enough by now that Hermann manages to find something to complain about in anything. “Why?” he says, and this time, he rolls his eyes. “Did he miss having someone to bitch at? Or bitch about?”

“Easy,” Tendo says warningly. He pokes his finger at Newt’s chest. “Try to keep it civil, boys, okay? I am not having you crush our chances of Pentecost approving a New Year’s bash with a repeat of—”

“Okay, okay,” Newt sighs, waving him off. He doesn’t exactly want a reminder of his and Hermann’s, uh, behavior at the somewhat disastrous Valentine’s Day party, either, or how tense the lab was for weeks following it. Well. Tenser than usual. “I got it. No fights. Where is he?”

“Hiding in that corner,” Tendo says. He gestures with his cup, splashing purple Witch’s Brew all down the front of his dumb greaser costume, and Newt squints where he’s directed; he thinks he can make out pale, sharp cheeks and the flash of a tweed coat. Trust Hermann to wear tweed to a Halloween party. He’s so lame. “Nice pants, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Newt says, distracted, and pushes his way through the crowd.

Newt’s surprised that Hermann even bothered showing up in the first place, and he can’t imagine he’s been very exciting company to anyone all night. The guy hates parties. Sure enough, he’s staring sullenly at his shoes when Newt finally reaches him, back pressed against the wall, soda can gripped so tightly in his free hand Newt can see the aluminum starting to crinkle under his fingertips. Newt doesn’t say hi, just sidles up next to him. Hermann doesn’t seem to notice. “How’s the party?” Newt says.

Hermann’s whole body goes rigid; when he turns to Newt, his lips have curled down into an ugly grimace, like he just ate a whole lemon or maybe caught sight of his tragic hairdo in a mirror. It’s good to see you, too, Hermann, Newt thinks. “Distasteful,” Hermann says. “They haven’t a single decent thing to drink anywhere.”

“Hm,” Newt says. He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I heard you were asking about me.”

“Hardly,” Hermann says with a scoff.

“I heard Tendo didn’t get a second alone you were asking about me so much,” Newt says. “What, did you miss me? I bet you just came here tonight to hang out with me, didn’t you? I bet you were all disappointed when I wasn’t here, and…”

“Hardly,” Hermann snaps. Newt grins. “My presence at this party is in no way affected by your own. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You were asking where I was, though,” Newt says.

Hermann’s lips contort again, this time into a thin line, and he turns a glare on Newt—though, Newt notices with a flare of glee, his cheeks have gone a bit pink. “I was aware you had…a date, tonight,” he says, slowly, “and—when you were not back by a reasonable time—well, forgive me for worrying that something may have happened to you.” His soda can begins to bend inward. “I wasn’t fancying the idea of having to tack on all of your work atop mine, is all.”

“Sure,” Newt says. He’d be touched, he thinks, if Hermann wasn’t the worst. “Anyway, look, I promise I’ll stay out of your hair—Tendo told us to behave ourselves. Just wanted to brighten your night real fast.”

Hermann snorts. “He warned me similarly. Well—in the interest of civility, I suppose I should compliment your costume.”

The grin vanishes off Newt’s face. Any feelings of good will towards Hermann—any sentimental feelings of companionability—that have been steadily building vanish with it. “Costume?” he says.

“Yes,” Hermann says. He waves his cane up and down, vaguely, over Newt. “Costume. ‘S better than mine, all I’ve got are some bloody vampire fangs in my pocket I haven’t even bothered to put on. You’re a clown, are you not?”

Briefly, Newt considers upending Hermann’s soda can over his head, or maybe indulging in a repeat of the Valentine’s Day party and using that whole fucking black cauldron. Instead, he just blushes and scowls. “Do you have to be such a jackass all the time?” he snaps. “No, I’m not dressed up like a fucking clown. These are my date clothes. A clown—that’s something coming from you, Doctor Sweatervest, you wouldn’t know fashion if it crawled out of the fucking Breach and stomped on you.”

Hermann looks mortified. Good—he should. “Newton—I didn’t—"

“Have a fun time,” Newt says, and storms off.

The thing about Hermann is that he’s a real square who knows exactly how to get under Newt’s skin, even when he doesn’t mean it; the thing about Newt is that he’s majorly cool and knows exactly how to get under Hermann’s skin, and he almost always means it. Newt thinks, if they were other people, he might consider them Frenemies, but he really can’t imagine a world in which Hermann would ever willingly be his friend, so half of that is a bust. Besides, Hermann’s not really his enemy either. He’s more of a…rival. Though it does complicate things severely when Newt takes into account how bad Hermann wants to get into his pants.

“That’s really great and all,” the guy Newt’s been chatting up by the snack table says, “but I don’t have any idea who you’re talking about.”

“It’s just like,” Newt says, “I know he wants me. I’ve caught him staring at my ass, like, twenty times in the lab. And when the eyeball incident happened—he was way too happy to strip me down for the emergency shower.” The event was very conflicting for Newt, too, to be quite honest, and he still looks back on it (Hermann, shouting at him and calling him an idiot, while ripping off his sizzling clothing) with a mixture of annoyance and arousal. He shrugs. “I just don’t know why he doesn’t admit it to himself. We’d all be happier. Can you believe he said I was dressed like a clown?”

“Uh-huh,” the guy says. “Look, Dr. Geiszler, I’m just trying to get some pretzels.”

“What?” Newt says. “Oh. Sorry. Here—” He uses a plastic spoon to scoop some out onto his new friend’s orange paper plate, and finds himself alone again very swiftly.

It’s not like the clown comment ruined his night or anything. It’s just that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it, once, or stop talking about it either, and every time he does, he feels angry and embarrassed all over again, and maybe sort of wants revenge against Hermann for it. He think he might know how to get it, too.

Hermann is lurking in the same place Newt left him, though instead of his soda can, he’s tensely nursing a paper cup. His name is Sharpied across it in his familiar scribble. Newt announces himself by wrapping his fingers around Hermann’s, raising the cup to his lips, and taking a sip. (It’s more soda.) “Hey, Hermann,” he says.

Hermann stares at him blankly; a familiar blush is making its way back to his cheeks. “Ah,” he says. “Hello.”

“What’s up?” Newt says. He scoots in next to Hermann until their shoulders touch; then, for good measure, he brushes his hand over the one Hermann has clenched firmly on his cane. He feels Hermann shiver. “You having fun?”

“Not—” Hermann clears his throat. He’s looking down at their hands. “Er. Not particularly.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Newt says, and (this time, settling his hand on top of Hermann’s) adds in a low voice, “I bet I could make it more exciting.”

The revenge plan was pretty simple. Preying upon Hermann’s obvious feelings for him, Newt would seduce him, get halfway through makeouts in some secluded hallway, and then pull away and be like just kidding! You suck!, announce he was going to find the sexy ranger he had a date with tonight who was totally into him, and go enjoy the rest of the party while Hermann—well, moped, Newt guessed. At least understood how Newt felt earlier. Except once they actually start making out, Newt realizes that’s kind of fucked up of him, and if Hermann tried the reverse (not that Newt has feelings for Hermann, obviously, but like—hypothetically), Newt would probably lock himself up in his quarters and cry for weeks. Plus, Hermann is apparently kind of awesome at making out?

“I take it your date did not go well,” Hermann breathes in his ear. “I can’t say I mind very much. Will you pull my hair again?”

Newt’s going to examine all this later. “Fuck yeah,” he says.

[olliedollie1204]

the kids are alright

AKA, Kai will see Elliott and ask “Is anyone going to adopt that?” and not wait for an answer

Edit: now also on AO3!

Characters: Kai, Elliott, Emile Picani, Larry and Dot (mentioned)

Words: 2,354

(A/N: I read both Elliott and Kai as being older teenagers, with Elliott being like 17/18 and Kai being 19/20? That might not be accurate but that’s the vibes for this.)

As soon as Kai pushed his way through the glass door, he started the process of freeing himself from the ridiculous amount of safety gear he had to wear while skateboarding.

Off came the elbow pads, knee pads, and wrist guards, which he dumped unceremoniously in his backpack; then he undid his helmet, the black and purple gradient one that Lauren got him when he told her he was gonna take up skating again. That, he tucked under his arm for safekeeping, grabbing his board with his other hand as he made his way down the hall to Picani’s waiting room.

Kai didn’t know how many patients the quack doctor had; enough to keep his business from shutting down, he guessed, but he’d never even seen another person in the building at any of the sessions he’d been to already.

So the sight of someone actually sitting on the waiting room couch made Kai freeze in his tracks.

The other person— around Kai’s age, maybe a little younger— had their eyes on their phone, and made no outward reaction when Kai appeared in the doorway; but Kai was way too suspicious of everything around him to not pick up on the way the kid’s eyes flicked towards him for less than a second before returning to their phone, or the way their thumb was moving across the screen too fast and haphazard for them to actually be doing anything.

They were nervous, Kai suddenly realized, because he’d shown up, and now the two of them were alone in a tiny waiting room of a therapist’s office.

Ah, fuck. Kai hated knowing people were uncomfortable. His social anxiety wasn’t quite like that, but he’d certainly seen enough of his friends go through it to know that this encounter was ticking a lot of boxes: in tight quarters, with a stranger, in a vulnerable setting, in silence.

Well, Kai never had much of a filter anyway, so he might as well try to relieve some of the tension in the room.

“Sup,” he offered, dropping onto the other end of the couch, leaving the cushion in the middle empty as a buffer space. The kid nodded politely, pulling their backpack up onto their lap and hugging it against their chest. Kai caught a glimpse of a ‘they/them’ pronoun button on their bag.

He felt a release of breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Thank fuck, another one.

“Did the Doc double book his appointments or something?”

Kai pretended not to notice the way the kid jumped slightly before looking at him, hesitant and confused.

“I’m sorry?”

Kai gestured towards the door. “I’m his 11 o’clock. What’re you in for?”

The kid faltered for a second before holding up a crumpled stack of papers in their hand. “I, um, just need to drop off some paperwork.”

“You had to do that in person?” Kai asked. Too late, he realized the words were kind of unnecessarily hostile, but, well, he wasn’t a people person, so he didn’t know what the fuck he should be doing better, okay?

Luckily, the kid didn’t seem too bothered, merely looking down at their lap and picking at their nail polish.

“Uh, he asked me to? I was gonna email them but he said he doesn’t have a computer, so…” They trailed off, apparently not knowing how to finish the sentence.

Kai furrowed his brow. “How does he advertise his shit without a computer? That just seems like a bad business practice.”

They shrugged. “I mean, I guess word of mouth is good enough. Um, my friend told me about him, but I don’t actually know where she heard about him.”

“Same,” Kai replied. “My girlfriend made me come here at first, but she never told me how the fuck she found him. Probably some magic newspaper ad— ‘The person you need is Emile Picani’, or some dumb shit like that.”

The kid huffed a small laugh. “Was that— was that a Nanny McPhee reference?”

“… Huh,” Kai replied after a moment. “Yeah, it was. Didn’t think you’d recognize it.”

Again the kid shrugged, but now there was a small smile on their face. Kai grinned back, leaning against the stiff couch and kicking one leg on the table as he bounced his other leg against the floor.

“I’m Kai,” he said, lazily throwing up a peace sign. The kid blinked in surprise.

“Um, Elliott. Nice to… meet you,” they finished awkwardly.

“Same,” Kai replied, nodding. The room fell silent for a couple beats before he continued, “Still, no computer. I mean, Jesus, get with the times, man!”

“Probably doesn’t have one because he spent all his money on stuffed animals and Funko Pops,” Elliott muttered. The quip came fast, and Kai let out a huff of surprised laughter. Fuck, yes. Now this was something he wanted to talk about.

“Okay, I have to ask you this, because no one else will fucking get it,” he blurted, turning so he was facing Elliott more directly. They looked at him with slight apprehension as Kai leaned closer.

“What is his deal with cartoons?”

A beat, and then a slightly exasperated half-smile formed on Elliott’s face. “I know. It’s like, I assume he went to school for, you know, counseling or whatever, but he only knows how to explain things through kids’ shows? Like, how did you even get your degree? Or your license?”

Kai nodded. “I mean, I guess it makes sense. That hyper ass motherfucker practically is a cartoon character. Like, you know how he literally sings when he walks in the room? Who fucking does that?”

“Yes!” Elliott’s smile finally broke through completely. “Yes, oh my God, yes. And have you noticed the way he’s, like, incapable of sitting still? Like, he practically bounces all over the place, he throws his arms and legs everywhere, and his face—” 

“Oh, way too many facial expressions, for sure,” Kai finished. “Oh! Oh, and sometimes he’ll, like, scrunch his nose up and stick his tongue out when he’s taking notes or whatever? Like—” 

Kai demonstrated, making Elliott snort with laughter. Kai started laughing, too— it wasn’t a particularly funny impression, but something about the dissipating awkwardness in the room made laughter come easier.

“And you can’t talk about any other form of media with him, because he won’t get it!” Elliott continued, their voice brightening throughout the conversation. “Like, anime? Never heard of it.”

“Video games are a bust, too,” Kai added. “Unless it’s, like, ‘Steven Universe: Save the Light’ or some shit.”

Elliott paused before sheepishly holding up a finger. “Actually, I’ll give him that one. My first real session, he, uh, he talked about Steven Universe for an hour, and— I don’t know, it’s not that bad.” They shrugged again, suddenly timid again.

Kai blinked. Backtrack, dumbass, backtrack. “No, yeah, I— I actually think the shit he talks about is… you know, it can be good, or whatever. Helpful.”

Ugh, fuck, that was embarrassing. Even though Kai could admit that Picani’s methods weren’t completely insane, he didn’t wanna share the intimate details of why he was there with someone he just met, even though Elliott seemed like a pretty cool kid.

He was just starting to visualize the letters WWLD in his head— What Would Lauren Do?— but thank fuck, the two of them were saved from any more awkward apologies by Picani’s office door swinging open. Kai slumped even further in his seat, while out of the corner of his eye he saw Elliot go ramrod straight.

A kind looking couple walked out of the office, holding hands and speaking quietly to themselves.

“Alright, Dorry, I’ll see ya next time!” The doctor’s cheerful voice carried into the waiting room as the couple left.

Eliiott darted their eyes to Kai, mouthing, ‘Dorry?’

‘Like the fucking fish?’ Kai mouthed back, making Elliott snort. The noise made Kai struggle to stifle his laughter in the otherwise silent waiting room, and suddenly the two of them were folding in on themselves, hands pressed over their mouths in a weak attempt at keeping quiet.

“Well, hey there, Thing One and Thing Two!”

Kai and Elliott snapped their heads up in unison, looking to where Picani was leaning in the doorway.

“I’m sorry for the wait, but I must say, I’m so happy to see you two smiling for once!” The doctor giggled, smoothing his tie and giving them both a knowing look.

Kai glared at him, opening his mouth to deliver some scathing retort, but he was interrupted by Elliott practically jumping off of the couch.

“Here’s the paperwork you asked me to bring.” They thrust their arm out to Picani, who took the papers and carefully smoothed out their wrinkles.

“Ah, thank you, Elliott! Kai, you mind hanging tight in my office for a second?”

Kai nodded wordlessly, gathering his bag and his skateboard and brusquely moving past the others into the small office. He dropped onto the couch, his bag hitting the ground with a weighty ‘thud’, as he tried not to eavesdrop too much on Picani and Elliott in the hallway. ‘Tried’ being the keyword, since they were about two feet away from the door, and Picani was a loud motherfucker.

“Thanks for bring this in for me, Tinkerbelliott!”

“That barely makes sense,” Elliot’s voice interrupted, and Kai smirked to the empty room. Get his ass, Elliott.

As the conversation continued, Kai let the rise and fall of their voices wash over him. He tried to get into his “whatever” mindset, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the kid in the waiting room.

It was like he and Elliott had some instant fucking connection or anything cheesy like that. They weren’t platonic soulmates, and honestly, it didn’t even seem like they had that much in common. But as Kai sat there, lazily rolling his board back and forth under his feet, he couldn’t help but think about all the crazy shit Picani put him through, and how talking about it with someone who really got it was… kinda fun, or whatever.

“So sorry for the wait, Agni Kai!”

Picani’s chipper voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and suddenly there was the Doc himself, shooting him a friendly smile as he made his way behind his desk.

“I’ve just been busier than a Mighty Bee this morning,” he rambled, sliding Elliott’s paperwork into a file while still managing to talk with his hands. “But I promise, starting this second all of my attention is on you. So!” he finished, folding his hands on the desk and looking at Kai expectantly. “What’s up?”

Kai looked at him for a few seconds before standing, the abrupt movement startling Picani and making him jump back in his rolly chair.

“Kai—?” 

“I’m taking this,” Kai stated, snatching a pen from the cup on his desk before Picani could respond.

“Oh! Um, ok, just be careful because it’s a glitter gel pen—” Picani’s voice got quieter as Kai swung himself out of the office, hoping he could catch Elliott without having to try and run.

Thank fuck, as he turned down the main hallway, he caught a glimpse of a figure dressed mostly in black halfway to the front door.

“Yo, Elliott, hold up!”

They froze for a moment before turning around to face Kai, curiosity and wariness lining their face.

When he got closer, Kai pointed to the folded paper Elliot was holding. “Is that important?”

“Um, no, not really— ah.” They cut themselves off as Kai snatched the paper out of their hand. “Okay.”

Kai didn’t respond as he flipped the paper over, leaning against the wall to scribble something on the back.

“You got Instagram?”

A beat, and then Elliott nodded. Kai finished with a flourish, underlining what he’d written despite it being the only thing on the paper, and passed it back to Elliott.

“Here. Follow me, I’ll follow you back,” he said as Elliott read his messy scrawl, their mouth dropping just slightly.

“Oh!” There was a distinct tone of surprise in their voice, which Kai didn’t comment on. They folded the paper in half and held it tightly in their fist. “Um, thanks, Kai. I’ll— I’ll do that as soon as I get home.”

Kai nodded. There was just a beat of awkward silence before he spun on his heel, walking casually back to Picani’s office.

“Later,” he called over his shoulder, not looking back.

“Um, yeah!” Elliott replied in a voice that clearly wasn’t used to yelling. “Later! Bye!”

Kai heard the front door open and close again by the time he reached Picani’s waiting room. He swung around the corner, feeling uncharacteristically optimistic for his session, but barely stopped himself before he collided with the good doctor himself.

“Woah! Watch out, Speed Racer!” Picani chirped, looking down at Kai. “Thought you were trying to make a run for it.”

Kai rolled his eyes before setting his gaze somewhere over the other man’s shoulder. “I left literally all of my shit in your office, obviously I was coming back.”

“Well, you just left in a real hurry, is all!” Picani replied, reaching up to straighten his tie. His voice went strangely neutral as he continued to ask, “Did you need to talk to Elliott before they left?”

Kai’s eyes flicked back to the doctor’s face, and— ugh, fuck, Picani was looking at him with that annoying sort of half-smile he always got when he thought Kai had reached some stupid ‘breakthrough’.

Kai flushed, folding his arms across his chest. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Picani—” 

“Nothing!” Picani replied with faux-innocence, putting his hands up defensively. “Just nice to see you making a friend, that’s all.”

Kai groaned, rolling his eyes so hard they nearly got stuck in the back of his head.

“Don’t be weird, man,” he grumbled, pushing past Picani into his office. He pretended not to hear the doctor’s amused chuckle as he followed him in, gently shutting the two of them in for what Kai was certain would be yet another absolutely ridiculous (yet unfortunately helpful) therapy session.

[96harmony96]

Chapter 2

Just before I exited the elevator into the vestibule of Waters Field & Leaman, the advertising firm I worked for on the twentieth floor, Lauren whispered in my ear, “Think about me all day.”

I squeezed her hand surreptitiously in the crowded car. “Always do.”

She continued the ride up to the top floor, which housed the headquarters of Jauregui Industries. The Crossfire was her, one of many properties she owned throughout the city, including the apartment complex I lived in.

I tried not to pay attention to that. My mom was a career trophy wife. She’d given up my father’s love for an affluent lifestyle, which I couldn’t relate to at all. I’d prefer love over wealth any day, but I suppose that was easy for me to say because I had money—a sizable investment portfolio—of my own. Not that I ever touched it. I wouldn’t. I’d paid too high a price and couldn’t imagine anything worth the cost.

Megumi, the receptionist, buzzed me through the glass security door and greeted me with a big smile. She was a pretty woman, young like me, with a stylish bob of glossy black hair framing stunning Asian features.

“Hey,” I said, stopping by her desk. “Got any plans for lunch?”

“I do now.”

“Awesome.” My grin was wide and genuine. As much as I loved Cary and enjoyed spending time with him, I needed girlfriends, too. Cary had already started building a network of acquaintances and friends in our adopted city, but I’d been sucked into the Lauren vortex almost from the outset. As much as I’d prefer to spend every moment with her, I knew it wasn’t healthy. Female friends would give it to me straight when I needed it, and I was going to have to cultivate those friendships if I wanted them.

Setting off, I headed down the long hallway to my cubicle. When I reached my desk, I put my bag and purse in the bottom drawer, keeping my smartphone out so I could silence it. I found a text from Cary: I’m sorry, baby girl.

“Cary Taylor,” I sighed. “I love you . . . even when you’re pissing me off.”

And he’d pissed me off royally. No woman wanted to come home to a sexual clusterfuck in progress on her living room floor. Especially not while in the middle of a fight with her new girlfriend.

I texted back, Block off the wknd 4 me if u can.

There was a long pause and I imagined him absorbing my request. Damn, he texted back finally. Must be some ass kicking u have planned.

“Maybe a little,” I muttered, shuddering as I remembered the . . . orgy I’d walked in on. But mostly I thought Cary and I needed to spend some quality downtime together. We hadn’t been living in Manhattan long. It was a new town for us, new apartment, new jobs and experiences, new partners for both of us. We were out of our element and struggling, and since we both had barge loads of baggage from our pasts, we didn’t handle struggling well. Usually we leaned on each other for balance, but we hadn’t had much time for that lately. We really needed to make the time. Up for a trip to Vegas? Just u and me?

Fuck yeah!

K . . . more later. As I silenced my phone and put it away, my gaze passed briefly over the two collage photo frames next to my monitor—one filled with photos of both of my parents and one of Cary, and the other filled with photos of me and Lauren. Lauren had put the latter collection together herself, wanting me to have a reminder of her just like the reminder she had of me on her desk. As if I needed it . . .

I loved having those images of the people I loved close by: my mom with her golden cap of curls and her bombshell smile, her curvy body scarcely covered by a tiny bikini as she enjoyed the French Riviera on my stepdad’s yacht; my stepfather, Richard Stanton, looking regal and distinguished, his silver hair oddly complementing the looks of his much younger wife; and Cary, who was captured in all his photogenic glory, with his lustrous brown hair and sparkling green eyes, his smile wide and mischievous. That million-dollar face was starting to pop up in magazines everywhere and soon would grace billboards and bus stops advertising Grey Isles clothing.

I looked across the strip of hallway and through the glass wall that encased Mark Garrity’s very small office and saw his jacket hung over the back of his Aeron chair, even though the man himself wasn’t in sight. I wasn’t surprised to find him in the break room scowling into his coffee mug; he and I shared a java dependency.

“I thought you had the hang of it,” I said, referring to his trouble with the one-cup coffee maker.

“I do, thanks to you.” Mark lifted his head and offering a charmingly crooked smile. He had gleaming dark skin, a trim goatee, and soft brown eyes. In addition to being easy on the eyes, he was a great boss—very open to educating me about the ad business and quick to trust that he didn’t have to show me how to do something twice. We worked well together, and I hoped that would be the case for a long time to come.

“Try this,” he said, reaching for a second steaming cup waiting on the counter. He handed it to me and I accepted it gratefully, appreciating that he’d been thoughtful about adding cream and sweetener, which was how I liked it.

I took a cautious sip, since it was hot, then coughed over the unexpected—and unwelcome—flavor. “What is this?”

“Blueberry-flavored coffee.”

Abruptly, I was the one scowling. “Who the hell wants to drink that?”

“Ah, see . . . it’s our job to figure out who, then sell this to them.” He lifted his mug in a toast. “Here’s to our latest account!”

Wincing, I straightened my spine and took another sip.

* * *

I was pretty sure the sickly sweet taste of artificial blueberries was still coating my tongue two hours later. Since it was time for my break, I started an Internet search for Dr. Terrence Lucas, a man who’d clearly rubbed Lauren the wrong way when I’d seen the two men together at dinner the night before. I hadn’t gotten any further than typing the doctor’s name in the search box when my desk phone rang.

“Mark Garrity’s office,” I answered. “Camila Cabello speaking.”

“Are you serious about Vegas?” Cary asked without preamble.

“Totally.”

There was a pause. “Is this when you tell me you’re moving in with your billionaire girlfriend and I’ve got to go?”

“What? No. Are you nuts?” I squeezed my eyes shut, understanding how insecure Cary was but thinking we were too far along in our friendship for those kinds of doubts. “You’re stuck with me for life, you know that.”

“And you just up and decided we should go to Vegas?”

“Pretty much. Figured we could sip mojitos by the pool and live off room service for a couple days.”

“I’m not sure how much I can pitch in for that.”

“Don’t worry, it’s on Lauren. her plane, her hotel. We’ll just cover our food and drinks.” A lie, since I planned on covering everything except the airfare, but Cary didn’t need to know that.

“And she’s not coming with us?”

I leaned back in my chair and stared at one of the photos of Lauren. I missed her already and it’d been only a couple of hours since we’d been together. “she’s got business in Arizona, so she’ll share the flights back and forth, but it’ll be just you and me in Vegas. I think we need it.”

“Yeah.” He exhaled harshly. “I could do with a change of scenery and some quality time with my best girl.”

“Okay, then. She wants to fly out by eight tomorrow night.”

“I’ll start packing. Want me to put a bag together for you, too?”

“Would you? That’d be great!” Cary could’ve been a stylist or personal shopper. He had serious talent when it came to clothes.

“camila?”

“Yeah?”

He sighed. “Thank you for putting up with my shit.”

“Shut up.”

After we hung up, I stared at the phone for a long minute, hating that Cary was so unhappy when everything in his life was going so well. He was an expert at self-sabotage, never truly believing he was worthy of happiness.

As I returned my attention to work, the Google search on my monitor reminded me of my interest in Dr. Terry Lucas. A few articles about her had been posted on the Web, complete with pictures that cemented the verification.

Pediatrician. Forty-five years of age. Married for twenty years. Nervously, I searched for “Dr. Terrence Lucas and wife,” inwardly cringing at the thought of seeing a golden-skinned, long-haired blonde. I exhaled my relief when I saw that Mrs. Lucas was a pale-skinned woman with short, bright red hair.

But that left me with more questions. I’d figured it would be a woman who’d caused the trouble between the two men.

The fact was, Lauren and I really didn’t know that much about each other. We knew the ugly stuff—at least she knew mine; I’d mostly guessed her from some pretty obvious clues. We knew some of the basic cohabitation stuff about each other after spending so many nights sleeping over at our respective apartments. she’d met half of my family and I’d met all of her. But we hadn’t been together long enough to touch on a whole lot of the periphery stuff. And frankly, I think we weren’t as forthcoming or inquisitive as we could’ve been, as if we were afraid to pile any more crap onto an already struggling relationship.

We were together because we were addicted to each other. I was never as intoxicated as I was when we were happy together, and I knew it was the same for her. We were putting ourselves through the wringer for those moments of perfection between us, but they were so tenuous that only our stubbornness, determination, and love kept us fighting for them.

Enough with making yourself crazy.

I checked my e-mail, and found my daily Google alert on “Lauren Jauregui.” The day’s digest of links led mostly to photos of Lauren, in black tie sans tie, and me at the charity dinner at the Waldorf Astoria the night before.

“God.” I couldn’t help but be reminded of my mother when looking at the pictures of me in a champagne Vera Wang cocktail dress. Not just because of how closely my looks mirrored my mom’s—aside from my hair being brown, long and straight—but also because of the mega-mogul whose arm I graced.

sinu Cabello Barker Mitchell Stanton was very, very good at being a trophy wife. She knew precisely what was expected of her and delivered without fail. Although she’d been divorced twice, both times had been by her choice and both divorces had left her exes despondent over losing her. I didn’t think less of my mother, because she gave as good as she got and didn’t take anyone for granted, but I’d grown up striving for independence. My right to say no was my most valued possession.

Minimizing my e-mail window, I pushed my personal life aside and went back to searching for market comparisons on fruity coffee. I coordinated some initial meetings between the strategists and Mark and helped Mark with brainstorming a campaign for a gluten-free restaurant. Noon approached and I was starting to feel seriously hungry when my phone rang. I answered with my usual greeting.

“camila?” an accented female voice greeted me. “It’s Magdalene. Do you have a minute?”

I leaned back in my chair, alert. Magdalene and I had once shared a moment of sympathy over Corinne’s unexpected and unwanted reappearance in Lauren’s life, but I’d never forget how vicious Magdalene had been to me the first time we’d met. “Just. What’s up?”

She sighed, then spoke quickly, her words flowing in a rush. “I was sitting at the table behind Corinne last night. I could hear a bit of what was being said between her and Lauren during dinner.”

My stomach tensed, preparing for an emotional blow. Magdalene knew just how to exploit my insecurities about Lauren. “Stirring up crap while I’m at work is a new low,” I said coldly. “I don’t—”

“she wasn’t ignoring you.”

My mouth hung open a second, and she quickly filled the silence.

“she was managing her, camila. She was making suggestions for where to take you around New York since you’re new in town, but she was doing it by playing the old remember-when-you-and-I-went-there game.”

“A walk down memory lane,” I muttered, grateful now that I hadn’t been able to hear much of Lauren’s low-voiced conversation with her ex.

“Yes.” Magdalene took a deep breath. “You left because you thought she was ignoring you for her. I just want you to know that she seemed to be thinking about you, trying to keep Corinne from upsetting you.”

“Why do you care?”

“Who says I do? I owe you one, Camila, for the way I introduced myself.”

I thought about that. Yeah, she owed me for when she ambushed me in the bathroom with her catty jealous bullshit. Not that I bought it as her sole motivation. Maybe I was just the lesser of two evils. Maybe she was keeping her enemies close. “All right. Thank you.”

No denying I felt better. A weight I hadn’t realized I was carrying around was suddenly relieved.

“Something else,” Magdalene went on. “she went after you.”

My grip tightened on the phone receiver. Lauren always came after me . . . because I was always running. My recovery was so fragile that I’d learned to protect it at all costs. When something threatened my stability, I ditched it.

“There have been other women in her life who’ve tried ultimatums like that, camila. They got bored or they wanted her attention or some kind of grand gesture . . . So they walked away and expected her to come after them. You know what she did?”

“Nothing,” I said softly, knowing my man. A man who never spent social time with women she slept with and never slept with women she associated with socially. Corinne and I were the sole exceptions to that rule, which was yet another reason why her ex sent me into fits of jealousy.

“Nothing more than making sure Angus dropped them off safely,” she confirmed, making me think it’d been a tactic she’d tried at some point. “But when you left, she couldn’t chase after you fast enough. And she wasn’t herself when she said good-bye. she seemed . . . off.”

Because she’d felt fear. My eyes closed as I mentally kicked myself. Hard.

Lauren had told me more than once that it terrified her when I ran, because she couldn’t handle the thought that I might not come back. What good did it do to say that I couldn’t imagine living without her when I so often showed her otherwise with my actions? Was it any wonder she hadn’t opened up to me about her past?

I had to stop running. Lauren and I were both going to have to stand and fight for this, for us, if we were going to have any hope of making our relationship work.

“Do I owe you now?” I asked neutrally, returning Mark’s wave as he left for lunch.

Magdalene exhaled in a rush. “Lauren and I have known each other a long time. Our mothers are best friends. You and I will see each other around, Camila, and I’m hoping we can find a way to avoid any awkwardness.”

The woman had come up to me and told me that the minute Lauren “shoved her dick” in me, I was “done.” And she’d hit me with that at a moment when I was especially vulnerable.

“Listen, Magdalene, if you don’t cause drama, we’ll get by.” And since she was being so forthright . . . “I can screw up my relationship with Lauren all by myself, trust me. I don’t need any help.”

She laughed softly. “That was my mistake, I think—I was too careful and too accommodating. she has to work at it with you. Anyway . . . I’ve taken up my minute. I’ll let you go.”

“Enjoy your weekend,” I said, in lieu of thanks. I still couldn’t trust her motivation.

“You, too.”

As I returned the receiver to its cradle, my gaze went to the photos of me and Lauren. I was abruptly overwhelmed by feelings of greed and possession. she was mine, yet I couldn’t be sure from one day to the next whether she’d stay mine. And the thought of any other woman having her made me insane.

I pulled open my bottom drawer and dug my smartphone out of my purse. Driven by the need to have her thinking as fiercely about me, I texted her about my sudden desperate hunger to devour her whole: I’d give anything to be sucking your cock right now.

Just thinking about how she looked when I took her in my mouth . . . the feral sounds she made when she was about to come . . .

Standing, I deleted the text the moment I saw it’d been delivered, then dropped my phone back in my purse. Since it was noon, I closed all the windows on my computer and headed out to reception to find Megumi.

“You hungry for anything in particular?” she asked, pushing to her feet and giving me a chance to admire her belted, sleeveless lavender dress.

I coughed because her question came so soon after my text. “No. Your choice. I’m not picky.”

We pushed out through the glass doors to reach the elevators.

“I am so ready for the weekend,” Megumi said with a groan as she stabbed the call button with an acrylic-tipped finger. “A day and a half left to go.”

“Got something fun planned?”

“That remains to be seen.” She sighed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Blind date,” she explained ruefully.

“Ah. Do you trust the person setting you up?”

“My roommate. I expect the guy will at least be physically attractive, because I know where she sleeps at night and paybacks are a bitch.”

I was smiling as an elevator car reached our floor and we stepped inside. “Well, that ups your odds for a good time.”

“Not really, since she found him by going on a blind date with him first. She swears he’s great, just more my type than hers.”

“Hmm.”

“I know, right?” Megumi shook her head and looked up at the decorative, old-fashioned needle above the car doors that marked the passing floors.

“You’ll have to let me know how it goes.”

“Oh, yeah. Wish me luck.”

“Absolutely.” We’d just stepped out into the lobby when I felt my purse vibrate beneath my arm. As we passed through the turnstiles, I dug for my phone and felt my stomach tighten at the sight of Lauren’s name. she was calling, not sexting me back.

“Excuse me,” I said to Megumi before answering.

She waved it off nonchalantly. “Go for it.”

“Hey,” I greeted her playfully.

“camila.”

I missed a step hearing the way she growled my name. There was a wealth of promise in the roughness of her voice.

Slowing, I found I was speechless, just from hearing her say my name with that edginess I craved—the sharp bite that told me she wanted to be inside me more than she wanted anything else in the world.

While people flowed around me, entering and exiting the building, I was halted by the weighted silence on my phone. The unspoken and nearly irresistible demand. she made no sound at all—I couldn’t even hear her breathing—but I felt her hunger. If I didn’t have Megumi waiting patiently for me, I’d be riding an elevator to the top floor to satisfy her unvoiced command to make good on my offer.

The memory of the time I’d sucked her off in her office simmered through me, making my mouth water. I swallowed. “Lauren . . .”

“You wanted my attention—now you have it. I want to hear you say those words.”

I felt my face flush. “I can’t. Not here. Let me call you later.”

“Step over by the column and out of the way.”

Startled, I looked around for her. Then I remembered that the Caller ID put her in her office. My gaze lifted, searching for the security cameras. Immediately, I felt her eyes on me, hot and wanting. Arousal surged through me, spurred by her desire.

“Hurry along, angel. Your friend’s waiting.”

I moved to the column, my breathing fast and audible.

“Now tell me. Your text made me hard, camila. What are you going to do about it?”

My hand went to my throat, my gaze sliding helplessly to Megumi, who watched me with raised brows. I lifted one finger up, asking for another minute, then turned my back to her and whispered, “I want you in my mouth.”

“Why? To play with me? To tease me like you’re doing now?” There was no heat in her voice, just calm severity.

I knew to pay careful attention when Lauren got serious about sex.

“No.” I lifted my face to the tinted dome in the ceiling that concealed the nearest security camera. “To make you come. I love making you come, Lauren.”

she exhaled harshly. “A gift, then.”

Only I knew what it meant for Lauren to view a sexual act as a gift. For her, sex had previously been about pain and degradation or lust and necessity. Now, with me, it was about pleasure and love. “Always.”

“Good. Because I treasure you, Camila, and what we have. Even our driving urge to fuck each other constantly is precious to me, because it matters.”

I sagged into the column, admitting to myself that I’d fallen into an old destructive habit—I’d exploited sexual attraction to ease my insecurities. If Lauren was lusting after me, she couldn’t be lusting after anyone else. How did she always know what was going on in my mind?

“Yes,” I breathed, closing my eyes. “It matters.”

There’d been a time when I’d turned to sex to feel affection, confusing momentary desire with genuine caring. Which was why I now insisted on having some sort of friendly framework in place before I went to bed with a man. I never again wanted to roll out of a lover’s bed feeling worthless and dirty.

And I sure as hell didn’t want to cheapen what I shared with Lauren just because I was irrationally scared of losing her.

It hit me then that I was off balance. I had this sick feeling in my gut, like something awful was going to happen.

“You can have what you want after work, angel.” her voice deepened, grew raspier. “In the meantime, enjoy lunch with your co-worker. I’ll be thinking about you. And your mouth.”

“I love you, Lauren.”

It took a couple of deep breaths after I hung up to compose myself enough to join Megumi again. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Everything all right?”

“Yes. Everything’s fine.”

“Things still hot and heavy with you and Lauren Jauregui?” She glanced at me with a slight smile.

“Umm . . .” Oh yes. “Yes, that’s fine, too.” And I wished desperately that I could talk about it. I wished I could just open the valve and gush about my overwhelming feelings for her. How thoughts of her consumed me, how the feel of her beneath my hands drove me wild, how the passion of her tortured soul cut into me like the sharpest blade.

But I couldn’t. Not ever. She was too visible, too well known. Private tidbits about her life were worth a small fortune. I couldn’t risk it.

“she sure is,” Megumi agreed. “Damn fine. Did you know her before you started working here?”

“No. Although I suppose we would have met eventually.” Because of our pasts. My mother gave generously to many abused children’s charities, as did Lauren. It was inevitable that Lauren and I would’ve crossed paths at some point. I wondered what that meeting would have been like—her with a gorgeous blonde on her arm and me with Cary. Would we have had the same visceral reaction to each other from a distance as we’d had up close in the Crossfire lobby?

she’d wanted me the moment she saw me on the street.

“I wondered.” Megumi pushed through the revolving lobby door. “I read that it was serious between you two,” she went on when I joined her outside on the sidewalk. “So I thought maybe you’d known her before.”

“Don’t believe everything you read on those gossip blogs.”

“So it’s not serious?”

“I didn’t say that.” It was too serious at times. Painfully, brutally so.

She shook her head. “God . . . listen to me pry. Sorry. Gossip is one of my vices. So are extremely hot women like Lauren Jauregui. I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to hook up with a gir whose body screams sex like that. Tell me she’s awesome in bed.”

I smiled. It was good to hang out with another girl. Not that Cary couldn’t also be appreciative of a hot guy, but nothing beat girl talk. “You won’t hear me complaining.”

“Lucky bitch.” Bumping shoulders with me to show she was teasing, she said, “How about that roommate of yours? From the photos I saw, she’s gorgeous, too. Is she single? Wanna hook me up?”

Turning my head quickly, I hid a wince. I’d learned the hard way never to set up an acquaintance or friend with Cary. He was so easy to love, which led to a lot of broken hearts because he couldn’t love back the same way. The moment things started going too well, Cary sabotaged them. “I don’t know if he’s single or not. Things are . . . complicated in his life at the moment.”

“Well, if the opportunity presents itself, I’m certainly not opposed. Just sayin’. You like tacos?”

“Love ’em.”

“I know a great place a couple blocks up. Come on.”

* * *

Things were going well in my world as Megumi and I headed back from lunch. Forty minutes of gossip, guy-ogling, and three awesome carne asada tacos later, I was feeling pretty good. And we were returning to work a little over ten minutes early, which I was glad for since I hadn’t been the most punctual employee lately, even though Mark never complained.

The city was thrumming around us, taxis and people surging through the growing heat and humidity as they crammed what they could into the insufficient hours of the day. I people-watched shamelessly, my eyes skimming over everyone and everything.

Men in business suits walked alongside women in flowing skirts and flip-flops. Ladies in haute couture and five-hundred-dollar shoes teetered past steaming hot dog vendor carts and shouting hawkers. The eclectic mix of New York was heaven to me, stirring an excitement that made me feel more vibrant here than anyplace else I’d ever lived.

We were stopped by a traffic light directly across from the Crossfire, and my gaze was immediately drawn to the black Bentley sitting in front of it. Lauren must’ve just gotten back from lunch. I couldn’t help but think about her sitting in her car on the day we’d met, watching me as I took in the imposing beauty of her Crossfire Building. It made me tingly just thinking about it—

Suddenly, I went cold.

Because a striking blonde breezed out of the revolving doors just then and paused, giving me a good, long look at her—Lauren’s ideal, whether she’d been aware of it or not. A woman I’d witnessed her fixate on the moment she’d seen her in the Waldorf Astoria ballroom. A woman whose poise and hold over Lauren brought out all my worst insecurities.

Corinne Giroux looked like a breath of fresh air in a cream-colored sheath dress and cherry red heels. She ran a hand over her waist-length hair, which wasn’t quite as sleek as it’d appeared last night when I’d met her. In fact, it looked a little disheveled. And her fingers were rubbing at her mouth, wiping along the outline of her lips.

I pulled my smartphone out, activated the camera, and snapped a picture. With the proximity of the zoom, I could see why she was fussing with her lipstick—it was smeared. No, more like mashed. As if from a passionate kiss.

The light changed. Megumi and I moved with the flow, closing the distance between me and the woman who’d once had Lauren’s promise to marry her. Angus stepped out of the Bentley and came around, speaking to her briefly before opening the back door for her. The feeling of betrayal—Angus’s and Lauren’s—was so fierce, I couldn’t catch my breath. I swayed on my feet.

“Hey.” Megumi caught my arm to steady me. “And we only had virgin margaritas, lightweight!”

I watched Corinne’s willowy body slide into the back of Lauren’s car with practiced grace. My fists clenched as fury surged through me. Through the haze of my angry tears, the Bentley pulled away from the curb and disappeared.

[shels-kpop-main]

Queen Guys Dating Girls With a Disability (Fluff Blurbs)

I’ve been wanting to do these blurbs for a while, bc this fandom has a lack of representation for those with disabilities. I hope y’all enjoy these, I’m so excited and proud of them <3 Thanks to @zodiacal-dust-and-curls for proofreading for me, and generally being great!!

Roger’s Girlfriend Is Deaf

Roger has always been known for his temper and melodrama, but he softened up quite a bit after meeting you

He took a liking to you the moment you met, despite the fact that you wanted nothing to do with him

He asked you out on many, many occasions, to which you said no every time

Because, although he’s cute and seems charming enough, dating someone who isn’t deaf has never been something you saw as feasible

Until the day that Roger gently taps you on the shoulder, while your translator is in the bathroom

You turn to face him, immediately looking to his lips to read the words falling off them

But they only twitch a little, because he isn’t speaking to you verbally

You watch in surprise as Roger nervously, but clearly, signs, Will you go to dinner with me?

You’re touched and impressed at his effort, and you smile back a silent Yes.

Your first few dates are attended by the ASL translator, but Roger learns more and more of the language over the course of the next several months

The two of you always refer to your first date without your translator as “the second first date”

One evening, you’re laying on the floor reading while Roger practices his playing

He looks up at you, then back at his drums, and smiles to himself

He gets up and comes to you, softly pulling you up and over to his drumkit

He signs to you, telling you he has an idea

You watch, amused, as he presses your hand flat against his bass drum

Tell me what you think of this beat, he says

You watch him as he starts playing, but soon close your eyes to focus

The beat is strong and steady, and you smile, keeping your hand against the drum and pressing your free hand under his snare drum

Roger plays for you every time he practices at home, from that point on

When he brings you to the studio for the first time, you’re already friends with the guys

So Brian accompanies you while Roger is busy in the recording room, making sure people know to face you while speaking so that you can read their lips

One day, one of your hearing aids, which mostly provide white noise and background sounds, stops working

John is more than happy to take the hearing aid apart, and clear out the moisture that had gathered in one of the tubes, thus fixing the problem

And Freddie’s always looking out for you, too

You’re in the engineering booth, watching Roger play with a pleasant smile on your face

This happens to be the day that Reid brought his nephews into work with him

Freddie looks up from his magazine to hear and see them sniggering behind your back, making fun of your hearing aids, knowing you can’t hear them

He knows better than to make a scene --Roger would go ballistic if he knew the little punks were being mean-- but he does the next best thing

He slinks up behind the two boys, figuring he could probably snap their prepubescent asses like twigs

Freddie reaches forward, as you continue to watch your boy playing in blissful unawareness, and grabs each of the boys by the scruffs of their shirts

He yanks them back, away from you, ignoring their yelps and pleas for mercy

“Why don’t you fuck off to the playground, dears, where you belong?” He suggests smoothly with acid in his tone

The boys scamper off, and Freddie nudges your elbow to announce his presence before slinging an arm around your shoulder

Roger is sweaty by the time the recording session concludes, but that doesn’t stop him from patting Fred on the back and pressing a kiss to the side of your head

The two of you sign back and forth to one another for the next few minutes, and Freddie smiles to himself, amazed at how well you bring out the best of Roger

Brian’s Girlfriend Uses a Wheelchair

You’re a physics doctorate student at the same university as Brian

And even though he left to pursue a career with Queen, he made sure to give you his number

Because he really likes you

He asks you if you’d like to go to the museum with him as a first date, and you accept, smiling into the phone receiver

So you move through the science museum side-by-side

Brian asked if you prefer him to push you, and you politely declined

And he gets it right away, that you’re not helpless, and you can get around just fine without assistance

Your determination and resilience are part of what attracts him to you

So your second date is, of course, star-gazing

Brian finds a flat, neatly-trimmed field, and leads you out to the middle of it, where you can see all of the stars in the galaxy so clearly

Brian pulls out a blanket and sits down on the ground next to you

But you look at him, and feel yourself wanting to be closer to him

“Brian?” “Yeah?”

“Will you pick me up? So I can sit with you?”

Brian smiles so sweetly you feel warm and fuzzy inside

He picks you up from your wheelchair, gently as he possibly can, and sets you down on his blanket

Brian sits behind you so you can lean back against his chest

He points to different constellations above you, whispering their names in your ear

At one point, you turn your face to look at him, and press your lips to his

That’s the moment he knows he’s all in, kissing you under all the stars in the Milky Way

So a few weeks later, he invites the guys over for a dinner party so they can meet you

You and Roger become fast friends, and John and Freddie are equally charmed by your wit and humor

When you eventually come to visit them at their recording studios, Freddie always makes a fuss to ensure that the buildings are fully wheelchair-accessible

“Fred, it’s fine, Brian can carry me up the st--” “No! I was told this building would have a ramp to the front door!”

…. “No, Brian, I will not calm down!”

Nevertheless, when you and the band arrive at the new studio --fully equipped with wheelchair ramps and elevators, per Freddie’s insistence-- you and Roger have way too much fun while Brian is busy recording guitar solos

Brian walks into the hall to find you and Roger zooming by on your wheelchair, laughing and hollering

You’re trying to make it from one end of the hall to the other in less than fifteen seconds

“What in God’s name--” “Watch out, love! We’re trying to break a record here!”

“You’re going to break a bone,” Brian frets, glaring at Roger for being so reckless

But the two of you are having the time of your life, and Roger manages to run you down the hallway in thirteen seconds

Brian is fussing the entire time, but gives you a small laugh when Roger spins you around, making you crack up

But when you’re wheeling yourself back into the recording booth, one of your front wheels locks up for no apparent reason

You, Brian, and Roger all look down at the stuck wheel, before looking up at John pitifully

“Alright, alright. Let me have a look.”

So Brian picks you up and holds you to his chest as John kneels next to your wheelchair

He’s a skinny guy, but his upper body strength has improved immensely since dating you

John finds a piece of metal behind the wheel that smacked against the door jamb, thus bending it and jamming the spokes

He hunts down a pair of pliers, and straightens the metal out with relative ease

“Thanks, Deaky,” you smile, as Brian sets you back down in your chair, pressing a soft kiss to your temple

For all of Roger’s antics, and Freddie’s fussing, Brian is glad to have friends and bandmates who care about his girl

They’ve brought you into the group with ease and humor, and he’s grateful for that

John’s Girlfriend Is Blind

You’ve known John all your life, and he’s always referred to you as “my girl”

Even before you started dating, you loved the pet name so much

But now that you’ve been together a while, it’s even more touching when John introduces you as “my girl”

You were up late one night in college, just talking in your living room

“Love, can I ask you a question?” “Go ahead.”

“Do you know what you look like? I mean- I mean, has anyone ever described your appearance to you?”

You chuckle and shake your head, because you were born without sight, and no one’s ever thought to tell you what you look like

So John describes your hair type and texture as best he can, and does the same for your facial features

The last word in his description is “beautiful”.

And you can hear the love in his voice; in fact, you can almost feel it

“So what do you look like?” you ask, giving him a small smile

You can’t see it, but John blushes a deep red, and shakes his head sheepishly

“I’m nothing special,” he chuckles, but you raise your eyebrows

“I don’t believe that for a second,” you insist. “Can I… Can I touch your face, John? To feel what you look like?”

John is flustered, but excited, so he slowly reaches down and lifts your hand up to his face

His fingers brush yours as you press your palm to his cheek

Then, you move your hand to his forehead, and down to his other cheek, then gently sweep over his long nose

Lastly, your fingertips brush down over his lips, and they part as John’s breath hitches in his throat

“I think you’re very handsome,” you tell him with a shy grin

You feel John smile under your thumb, and heat rises to his cheek under your fingers

It’s then that you realize you never moved your hand

But John doesn’t mind; he reaches up and places his hand over yours, holding it to his face

And you’re leaning in, so slowly, to avoid hitting his nose with yours

But it’s perfect, and John tilts his face to greet your lips

The soft kisses shared between the two of you eventually turn into rougher adventures as you explore each others’ bodies via physical touch

These touches, in turn, eventually lead to quiet evenings spent in each others’ company and trips to the coast, the days blending together as you and John settle into your feelings for one another

The first time John invites you to a Queen show, you call Freddie in a panic

“Freddie, thank God you’re home.” “Darling, what’s wrong?”

“I need you to do my makeup for tonight.” “Oh, yes.”

Freddie is at your apartment hours before the show so that he has enough time to get ready himself

By the time he’s done with you, you’re all dolled up, with painted eyelids and lips, and eyelashes up to your eyebrows

“You didn’t overdo it, did you?” You ask nervously

“Dear thing, you have to trust me. You look marvelous. John’s gonna burst out of his trousers.”

“Freddie! For God’s sake,” you scold him, but you’re both laughing

You and Freddie meet the guys at the venue, and John just about falls over because he’s never seen you in makeup before

He just says “Wow” a lot

The show is fantastic, and you let the music surround you, knowing that they all look up amazing up on that stage

The after-party is great, too

Brian guides you around the club to introduce you to people while John goes to get drinks

He’s gotten pretty good at leading you through crowds, making sure your hand is on his elbow at all times

Roger and Freddie are waiting at the table when you and Brian join them

Brian does his best to guide you into the booth, but he’s not as experienced at these little things as John

You’ve got your cane, but it slips under the table, and Brian doesn’t see it in time to stop you

So your hip makes contact with the table, and you utter a soft Oof when you bump into it

“Oh no, love, I’m so sorry--” Brian rushes to apologize, but Roger’s and Freddie’s attention is elsewhere

A group of younger guys at the table next to yours make no secret of their laughter, pointing at your cane

You hear them, but try to ignore it, desperately wanting John

But the next thing you hear is a loud shuffling movement, a cracking sound and yelling from the next booth over, and Freddie shouting, “Get ‘em, Rog!”

“Oh, dear,” Brian sighs, sounding disappointed but not surprised

“What’s going on?” you ask him, concerned

“Roger’s just launched himself into the next booth, and he’s now attempting to fight three men at once.”

You hear John setting the glasses down on the table, immediately sliding your drink into your hand so you can hold it securely

“What’d they say?” John asks, sitting next to you and throwing an arm around your shoulders

“They were laughing at me,” you explain, feeling a bit better as you hear a yelp from one of the men, presumably having just been punched by Roger

“Ah,” John responds, annoyed at the ridicule but not surprised at Roger’s reaction

Truth be told, he was thankful for his friends looking out for you when he wasn’t there

And as Brian hauled a still-very-enraged Roger back to your booth, you could have sworn you heard John high-five the drummer

Taglist (message me to be added!): @letmelivetaylor @boozeleatherandstache @attatchment-issues, hermajesty-queen, @night-turns-into-day, @universallytragicpeach

[erintoknow]

this is nothing new

Spiraling - A Fallen Hero: Rebirth Fan-fiction

[Read here on AO3!]

Chapter: this is nothing new tw: death

[Same Old Blues]

You wake with a scream, tumbling off the couch, cracking your head against the edge of the coffee table with a ‘Thump!’ on your way down. Flashes of green before your eyes. Distantly aware of your heart pounding in your chest.

“Alex? Lord , Alex, are you okay?” The light flickers on as woman steps out of the bedroom, one hand shading her eyes as she winces against the light. Brushing back dirty blond hair, Chelsea tsks as she navigates the pile of clothes and library books that mark the corner of the apartment you’ve taken over.

Clutching your head, you pull yourself in. Try to make yourself as small as you can. Something… remembered something but what? It’s already gone. Doesn’t feel real, none of this does – already slipping out of your grasp, faster as you try to take hold. Why is Chelsea in Ortega’s apartment? Red and silver threads, something at your throat.

Hands find you and you strike out. Someone yells, “Ow!” the noise unheeded as panic renews; why did you do that? What are you thinking? You’re really in for it now – should know better. How many times do the same lessons need to be learned?

“Alex, Alex, it’s okay.” You tense, can feel the intention to touch incoming but it doesn’t – no hands come near you. “You’re safe. I promise you.” Notes of worry, directed towards – not you, can’t be you, has to be something else.

It’s a lie. One they love to tell. You’ll never be safe.

Have to… have to get out of here. Have to do something. Have to move. Get out. Escape. But there are hands, holding you down under white fluorescent lights, burning spots into your vision that cast of the crowd of onlookers in silhouette. Something is strapped over your head, while she looks down at you. Disappointment naked on her face, speaking with another woman’s voice. “Next time, I expect results forty-two.”

It’s the strobing flashes of red and blue that pull you out of it – a shot of adrenaline sets your hands shaking as you pull yourself out of the position you’d fallen into, laying half out of your bed.

You’re not back there , and you aren’t anywhere but here. Not Ortega’s, not Chelsea’s, not – not there. You’re in your own place. You have one of those now. An apartment. Remember?

Maybe not for long. Police lights? You clutch a hand to your aching head as you stretch out your awareness, take stock of the local minds, pick up the interlopers. Police. And… EMTs? Why? Dig deeper and your hands twist the bed sheet. Death. Someone’s dead. Footsteps in the hallway and nausea washes over you. It takes the sheer desperation of not wanting to spend a day cleaning out bedsheets, yet again , to tamper it down. Clothes stick to your skin in a cold sweat.

The apartment next door. On the left. Young man, lived with his girlfriend – her thoughts stand out, a barbed wire coil of grief. Was paying child support. Managed a convenience store. Didn’t smoke. Didn’t drink. Now he’s dead.

How? Why?

Try to press harder for the details only to immediately snap back. Shouldn’t have asked. Shouldn’t have wondered. You’ve never been good at learning that lesson, no matter how many times, you come to regret it.

Holding into the bedside table for balance, you push yourself up, vision briefly blacking out before filling back in as you stand. Give yourself a moment to adjust. To think.

The door. Check the door.

Navigating the gloom you step around the traps and check the door lock, the chain, bolt, and bar. Everything is in place. You’re still safe. Moving to the window you check that next. Shatter-resistant glass, threaded with a steel wire reinforcement. Not much for looking, but no one’s getting through it any time soon. Not without making a lot of noise.

You brush your mind against the police again. No thoughts to you. Or your apartment.

You’re not in any immediate danger.

Stomach prods you with pangs of pain. What time is it? Too early to be awake. It’s – it’s absurd, right? To think it’s your fault. His death. You weren’t even awake to do anything .

Wait–

Shit!

Jane! You were Jane and you were doing something – what? What were you doing?

“Are you sure you are alright to be out today, mon amie?” Dr. Mortum eyes Jane worriedly from the other end of the booth, fiddling with the glass of sherry in her hands. New glasses? The gold of her frames stands out against the dark tone of her skin.

“Doc, please.” Jane sighs, slumping back in her chair. No fancy looks today. Whatever is going on between Jane and Dr. Mortum now, that particular game is over. Your puppet, your mirror image, is wearing slacks and a cardigan. Plain and unfashionable. But you don’t need her to perform today. Not like that. Faded bruises still peeking out from under her shirt collar. Memory of stiffness. “It’s been weeks, I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.” The good doctor takes a sip of her drink, one hand on the table between them. Her expression grows darker, and Jane leans in too. Nerves on edge. “So it looks like your employer made quite the splash.”

“All thanks to your hard work.”

Mortum’s expression only darkens. Her eyes darting towards the side, down at Jane’s wrist. Eyes tracing something. Jane shifts her hand away, under the table. “I suppose there is a truth to that.” She sighs, looks up again to catch Jane’s eyes. “Have you… thought any more, about what I said?”

Oh. This again. Dr. Mortum’s always been happy to just take the money without questions before. Where is this sudden attack of conscience coming from?

“I can handle myself.” Jane’s smile gains an edge. “As I’m sure you remember.”

Mortum’s smile is polite, but her eyes betray amusement. “In vivid technicolor, mon amie.”

“Hah.” Jane snickers, “Don’t be such a nerd.”

Mortum keeps smiling. “Ah, but you recognized the reference. So who is the bigger nerd here?”

“Smart-ass.”

Can’t remember past that. But you just woke up so… you fell asleep, clearly. Did you fall asleep as Jane? Biting your lip you force yourself to lay down in bed, sheets still hanging half off. Close your eyes. Have to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid.

Finding Jane is getting easier and easier these days. Like there’s a cord strung between you – follow the thread and you’ll find her at the end of it.

Sink in, and it’s always touch that comes first, after that everything else fills from the outside in. As if you’re water pouring into an empty vessel. Jane sits up, blinking with bleary eyes. Only the briefest sense of vertigo before her stomach settles.

The dull soreness of healing bruises floats into awareness. It’s dark, with warm fabric drawn over her lower body… She’s home at her apartment. Safe. Everything’s fine. You worried for nothing. Jane glances at the alarm clock. 4 AM. Now that the possibility of danger is brushed aside, you’re free to be frustrated at this whole situation.

Nothing for it now. You’re not going back to sleep if you can help it. Jane’s hand finds her cellphone, checking for any messages. Nothing new; just her last exchange with Ortega, asking about when they can meet up again.

Just thinking about it is enough to make Jane smile, a lightness in her chest, even as it leaves a bitter sting in your heart. Jane is dating Ortega. Not you. That’s the way things have to be. It’s for the best. For everyone.

Ortega…

She hasn’t even been released from the hospital yet and already she’s raring to get back into the thick of things. The fool idiot never knows when to slow down. Or when to quit. She’s taking the Ranger’s defeat at your debut more personally than you had anticipated.

Honestly, you went into that night fully expecting Ortega to kill you, instead she just… slowed you down at best. A wave breaking itself against a boulder, shattering to pieces. She’s losing her touch in her middle age. She’s only to get herself hurt even worse next time. Maybe you can get Jane to talk some sense into her? Just… at least slow down for a little bit? Take better care of herself.

Somehow has to do it.

It sure isn’t going to be you.

Can still see it in your head… standing in the floodlights, a bruised and bleeding Ortega laying prone below you…

Fuck.

fucking hell

piss

Jane staggers, fighting down the wave of revulsion, swallows the bile in the back of her throat. Shit. She’s usually better insulated from your attacks then that.

Well… don’t think you’re getting back to bed any time soon. If you’re going to be up this early you might as well do something productive with all that time.

“So now, I’m the one stuck sorting out this mess.” Spinning stories about how terrible your villain alter ego is as a boss has fast become your favorite way to bond with people as Jane. There’s something liberating in being able to just go to town on her and have people actually nod in agreement.

Jane sighs, staring down at the water bottle in her hand, sloshing the contents in a slow circle. “Honestly, it’s not my fault the last deal fell through like that.” She tugs at her jacket. Should enjoy the chill while you can. Once the sun’s up, the summer heat will be back in full force.

Jane’s companion, a latina woman who has clearly never skipped leg or arm day, takes a long drag from her cigarette, her back to Jane, against the tree. The two of them have stepped off the park path for privacy.

Honestly didn’t expect Rosie to answer Jane’s call. There’s been less and less time to be able to shoot the shit with her lately. A trend you expect to continue.

Even now Jane is technically doing business. Managing your villain career, building loyalty. But Rosie has been Jane’s oldest friend – or as close to it as she can have, and you’re finding it harder for Jane to let go of her than you’d expected.

“Sounds like a capital-class serving of BS to me, yeah.” Rosie stares off into the open field, chewing on thoughts your puppet isn’t privy to. “You tried looking into some of those old buildings up in the industrial park?”

Jane blinks, staring up at the tree branches above them both. “The… industrial park, huh. Hrm.”

“Yeah, like, I know you’re hoping to get somewhere more, like, central and shit, but there’s a lot of places that cleared out when the smog started getting bad. Bet you two-to-one you can find somewhere real cheap up that way.” She goes quiet then suddenly breaks into laughter. “And hey! That boss of yours is so paranoid anyway, right? Should be happy he gets somewhere no one in their right mind is going to go.”

Jane doesn’t respond right away. It could work. A cheaper asking price means more money free to invest back into gadgets, supplies, bribes. “Yeah, okay.” Jane “I’ll give it a look around. Thanks for the tip.”

Rosie winks, thumbs up. “Hey Janey, what are friends for?”

Jane finds herself returning the thumbs up. “Nothing legal, apparently.” That gets the barking laugh you were hoping for. Rosie slaps her leg. Jane clears her throat, gives Rosie a chance to compose herself. “Speaking of friends… You ready for another job yet?”

“You know me, I can always use more sin money.” She shuffles out another cigarette from her pack, eyes shifting between Jane and the lighter. “So… suppose I am. What'd ya got?”

Jane smiles. “I think you’ll find this one interesting.”

[winteriron-trash]

Spider-Man: Far From Home Compliment Sandwich

So I just saw S:FFF and I have... feelings. But since I’ve been really critical of the MCU lately despite claiming to be a big Marvel fan, I thought I should be nice and give the movie a nice compliment sandwich to prove that I still like Marvel. 

Good: The intro scene with the really crappy slideshow clearly made by an incompetent teenager was on point to teenage editing capability and fucking hilarious. It did a good job of setting the tone of the movie after the Dark and Serious intro with Fury and Hill

Good: Calling the Snap, “the Blip” is fucking hilarious and I love how meme-ish everyone is with it, which is probably the most realistic thing about this movie

Good: Peter’s suitcase with the “BFP” initials were a great subtle shout out, I liked that.

Bad: I think the other guy who had a crush on MJ kinda added nothing to the plot and did nothing for the conflict of Peter’s relationship with MJ. He just really seemed pointless and salty and his addition was only an annoying attempt at drama.

Bad: Oh. My. God. Can we like, not milk Tony Stark? I’m a #1 Tony Stark stan, but I feel like when your runtime loses at least fifteen minutes when you cut out every reference to him, there’s a problem. We make jokes about Spider-Man movies just being Iron Man movies, but this literally felt like Iron Man 6. Stop, and let the MCU move on.

Bad: I get that Mysterio was obviously going to be the villain the whole time, we been knew about that, but did the reveal have to be so cheap? Like, you had that cliche ass fade away of the scene, and Mysterio even had that awful Cliche Evil Villian Smile. Could you not have done it better? Like, we all knew Bucky was the WS, but the reveal was still shocking because it was shocking to the characters. This was just stupid.

Bad: And speaking of Mysterio, why the fuck would you get rid of his powers, just to give another cheap tie into Tony? It made no sense and you managed to ruin a great Spider-Man villain by making him an obsessive smart guy.

Bad: You teased the multiverse, and you didn’t follow through? Leave me alone with that nonsense. What could’ve been the coolest plot device of the whole movie was thrown away as a “wild idea”. Fuck that nonsense.

Bad: No, I’m not done about Mysterio. Why did you kill him off? That just didn’t even feel right at all, I hate it.

Bad: Where. The. Fuck. Were. The. Avengers. Why is Doctor Strange unavailable? Where’s Sam? Bucky? Wanda, even?What the fuck.

Bad: If the elemental villains were just illusions, how was Peter able to interact with the one by touching it and grabbing onto it, but the other he just entered? Maybe I missed something but seems fishy. 

Bad: Still not done with Mysterio. He was a bad villain and just a copy of so many villains we’ve seen before in the MCU. It was like you took everything that made Vulture interesting and just ran with what was left. He was an unstable psychopath with access to some dangerous tech and a cult of followers. We’ve heard this story before.

Bad: No seriously, where the fuck were the Avengers

Bad: I feel like Peter figured out what was going on way too easily? Like, he saw that it was just a projection and then everything was put together? Idk, that felt really fast and cheap

Bad: So many of the cool scenes from the trailer were just... not there and I feel cheated. The most iconic, Sider-Man feeling lines of the trailer were cut and honestly Marvel, this is getting stupid. A few seconds that end up getting cut is fine, but half of your trailer wasn’t in the movie. What’s the point of even having a trailer?

The end credits scene. No. Having Spider-Man being seen as a villain to the public is nothing new and fine if we want to believe that, but revealing his identity? No. I hate it. It doesn’t make sense to the story of Spider-Man and is now a loose thread we won’t find out the repercussions of for at least a few movies, all just for the shock value. 

Bad: Why did the “Peter tingle” only work at certain points? It was never really explained what brought it back and felt kinda stupid as a way for Peter to win the final boss battle super easily.

Bad: What. The. Fuck. Was with the other end credit scene? Why are the Skrulls back? Are we to assume that Fury and Hill were never even on Earth throughout the whole thing? Fucking why? Why was he on a spaceship with Skrulls? It’s not suspense, it just flat out doesn’t make sense. Fury wasn’t even Fury, so how did he know things like Happy’s “code”? It makes no sense.

Bad/Good/Confusing?: Okay, is Peter the next Iron Man or is he not? The movie couldn’t really seem to decide on that. It kept insisting Peter wasn’t and he was his own thing as Spider-Man, but then literally everything else was screaming that he was and I just can’t tell what they were doing with that. We don’t need a “next Iron Man” and yet the movie seemed to want to shove the idea down our throats. I like that Peter was adamant that he wasn’t the next Iron Man because he shouldn’t be, but at the same time, the movie seemed to contradict that idea? I’m really lost on that whole deal.

Good: Okay, “Peter tingle” is funny, I’ll admit that

Good: MJ was fucking amazing and I love her. Her finding out Peter is Spider-Man was so refreshing from the secret identity trope, and she did have the cool moment with the flail taking out the drone. She’s just a really great character and I liked her a lot.

Good: I love Ned. That’s all.

Good: Flash was annoying but in a good way? Like, I thought he was over the top in Homecoming, but he was actually kinda amusing and seemed like a realistic character in this movie. 

Good: Ned and Betty were cute together, and I’m actually not mad at how they had them break up but remain on good terms. It felt like an accurate depiction of high school relationships versus the typical dramatic shit we usually see in movies. They were just really cute and I hope to see more of Betty in future movies. 

Good: The fight scenes with the illusions, especially at the end where Peter relies completely on Spider Sense were really fucking cool. That whole visual was trippy and I loved it. 

Good: Okay, the scene where Peter has to take his clothes off for the lady agent and Brad walks in was kinda funny and I’m sad the lady agent was never to be seen again. I want her back. 

Good: Fine, I’ll admit it, J. Jonah Jameson at the end credits scene was hilarious and it was exciting to see him made into an established character to bring the Spider-Man movies back to their roots. 

Good: Whilst I hate the constant Tony Stark reference, the scene where Peter is building his new suit with all the holograms and Happy puts on AC/DC was probably the best tribute to Tony. It didn’t feel shoved down our throats and it didn’t make it seem like Peter was the new Iron Man, but it still was a cool way of showing how Peter is following in Tony’s footsteps and still his protegee. It just felt really awesome.

Good: Overall, it did feel like a good, cohesive Spider-Man movie. It succeeded where past Spider-Man movies have failed and was an enjoyable movie that was still lighthearted enough to be funny and easy to watch. Even if it does nothing to even try to fit into the MCU and manages to both ignore Endgame and try to explain Endgame at the same time, as a Spider-Man movie, it succeeded in my opinion. For as much criticism as I have, I didn’t leave the theatre feeling cheated or angry at it. I can nitpick things as they relate to the MCU, but as a movie itself, I don’t think I have much to complain about, really.  

See? I tried to be fair, this time. This is just mostly me rambling to get my thoughts out. I’m still ignoring most MCU movies post-Winter Soldier, but I’m trying to be nice this time and not completely hateful.

Also, to prove to yall how small and ignored the theatre I go to is, here’s the packed house for the brand new MCU movie. 

Wow. Don’t know how we even found a seat in this chaos. 

[imagining-supernatural]

Chapter 2: History Class

Cracks In The Dam Series – Reader’s POV

She’s a quiet engineering and physics major trying to forget the demons of her past, and he’s the campus playboy trying to turn over a new leaf. Their friendship is unlikely, but just might be forged to withstand the cracks in the dams they’ve built to protect themselves. (BuckyxReader college au)

Word Count: 1900

You know how you always seem to have that one class each semester that just makes you give up three minutes into the first day? History was that class for me. I was halfway through the semester and barely holding onto a D. Maybe if I paid attention in class instead of sketching new ideas in my notebook, I could bring that grade up, but honestly, who cares? It’s history. I just need a D to pass.

“Another exciting day learning about fifteenth century history,” someone says, plopping down in the chair next to me. The husky scent of his cologne and faint tinge of cigarette smoke gives away his identity before I even look up.

“Oh lovely. Another stimulating conversation with Bucky.”

He chuckled and leaned back in the chair. “It’s been long two days without me. I know it’s hard, doll.”

“Why don’t you go sit with your harem?” I was referring to the group of girls he usually sat with in the back of the lecture hall. “I’m sure they need your attention more than I do.”

“Probably.” No shame. Not even an ounce of shame. No embarrassment. No sense of humility. How do people find him—

Okay. Fine. He’s attractive. But how do people stand to be around him?

My watch vibrates, letting me know I have a text, and I look down at it to see that Tony texted me. Thankful for the distraction, I grab my phone out of my backpack and open the conversation.

Tony: Jarvis thinks I have a concussion and keeps wanting to call an ambulance. Tell him I’m fine.

“God, it’s like babysitting a five-year-old,” I mumble. He’s nearly twice my age, but Tony Stark is just a giant baby underneath his playboy exterior. I suppose rather than an uncle, he’s more like an annoying older brother.

“That the dude from your date on Friday?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t a date.”

Canary: You designed Jarvis. He knows you better than you do. If he thinks you have a concussion, go to the damn hospital.

Canary: What did you do, btw?

“Not a date. Right. Dressed like you were? Doll, that dress you wore was probably more than my last paycheck.”

Setting my phone down, I gave all of my attention to the dark-haired man beside me. “Why so interested in my love life, Barnes? Your one-night stands getting boring?”

He leaned forward, arms crossed on his desk, and gave me a smirk with that damn twinkle in his eye. “Why so defensive, Y/L/N? Jealous that your best friend found her true love and you struck out on Friday night?”

“Oh, God, don’t remind me about Nat and Steve. They’re disgusting. Literally they’re always making out on the couch or in my kitchen or… ugh.” I’m happy for Nat, but still. Boundaries, girl!

Tony: It’s Bubba’s fault. I tweaked the thrusters and tested them out and that stupid machine didn’t spot me like he should have.

Tony: If I had a concussion, would I be able to type grammatically correct sentences? Checkmate.

“Boy trouble?” Bucky wiggled his eyebrows and I just shot him a dirty look.

“Boss trouble. Gimme a sec.” Rather than text him back, I dialed his number and waited for him to pick up. I didn’t even give him time to say hello when he answered. “Go to the damn hospital, Tony.”

“No time, Cannie. We’ve got that—”

“I will drag your stupid ass to the hospital myself. If I’m going to be on my A-Game this week, you need to be too. I need your brain. It’s the whole reason I have a job. I’m going to tell Jarvis to call that ambulance.”

“They’ll just tell me I can’t do the presentation and—”

“For fucks sake, man. I’ll do the presentation. Your brain is your best asset and no-no, don’t say anything. I regret that word choice already. You need to make sure you didn’t fuck up and ruin it.”

“Grammatically correct sentences.” He said pointedly. “I’m fine.”

“I’ll believe it when a doctor tells me that.” I hung up and immediately called the line that Tony set up for me to directly connect to Jarvis. “Jarvis, I’m overriding whatever stupid command Tony gave you and telling you to call a goddamn ambulance.”

“Miss Y/L/N, I cannot approve an override without—”

“Override code: Please and thank you.”

There was a moment of silence before Jarvis approved the code and called an ambulance. I just loved that AI. I swear, he was more human than most humans sometimes.

By the time I finished with all of that drama, Bucky was watching me with a puzzled grin on his lips. “I’ve never heard anyone talk to their boss like that.”

“You’ve never met my boss. You’d understand.”

Just as Bucky was about to say something else, the professor drew everyone’s attention to begin another boring lecture. As usual, my attention span lasted roughly thirty seconds before I was bored to tears and turned to a clean page in my notebook.

Tony said he was messing with the thrusters? I could only imagine the kind of scene that played out when he tested them. Get footage from Jarvis, I wrote in the margin of the page before starting playing around with the thruster design.

For the presentation on Friday, we would definitely have to go with the original design. There was no way I was going to trust one of Tony’s tweaks less than a week before the biggest presentation of my life. This might not be as big of a deal for him, but this was my first real presentation. If I could nail this in front of the entire board of Stark Industries, the CIA, and select individuals from the US Armed Forces, then I was set for life. I would have my choice of jobs. I could do whatever I ever imagined after graduating next year.

I just couldn’t let Tony screw this up.

But since I knew him, I knew that he was going to play around with the design until he got bored with it, so I had to keep up with him. Maybe I could even come up with some ideas he hasn’t yet. Beat the great Stark to a breakthrough. That was the dream…

My watch vibrated again and I glanced down to see the message scrolling past the screen.

Jarvis: Mr. Stark has been admitted to New York-Presbyterian Hospital. He is not happy. I will keep you updated on his whereabouts so you will be able to find him when you are finished with your classes for the day.

“Big baby,” I whispered under my breath.

Warm breath on my shoulder drew my attention to Bucky, who was leaning over to look at my notebook. “You a fashion designer or something?”

“Or something,” I muttered. He was entirely too close to me, so I shoved him lightly. “Dude, personal space.”

The rest of class went by uneventfully. Bucky kept trying to distract me and I kept squinting at my notes on the project. There was something I could do with it. Something I hadn’t thought about yet. I just knew it.

Before I knew it, class had passed and everyone was suddenly moving, shoving their notebooks and laptops into their bags. As if snapped out of a daze, I looked around.

“Well, that was a fascinating lecture, as usual,” Bucky drawled, stretching his arms back and over his head. Why guys always took up so much space was a mystery to me.

“I sure hope none of that is gonna be on the test,” I mumbled, gathering my things.

Bucky stayed by my side and, uncharacteristically, stayed quiet until we were out of the classroom. Ever since Nat, my best friend, started dating Steve, his best friend, Bucky and I found ourselves together all too often. So I knew that he rarely shut up.

“You know,” he started, and I nearly groaned. So close. So close to a full sixty seconds without speaking. That would have been a record. “I could help you out with this class.”

“You? Really?”

His brow furrowed minutely and there was a wounded expression that flashed across his eyes. It was so brief that I nearly didn’t catch it. “Hey now, just because I’m hot and sexy as hell doesn’t mean I can’t be smart too. You should know.”

That made me scoff. “Right.”

But… if Bucky really could help me out in this class… I was teetering right on the edge of failing. I really didn’t want to retake this class next semester…

“No strings?”

“What kind of strings would I attach, Y/L/N?”

We stepped out into the cool fall air and I stopped just before going down the stairs to the building. Bucky imitated me and I eyed him for a long few moments, trying to discern his true intentions. Why did he offer to help me? What did he have to gain?

“Okay,” he gave in with a hidden smile. “Fine. One string.”

“Ha! I knew it!” There was always something.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and paused for a moment, as if trying to figure out how to word his stipulation. “One string: friendship. That’s it. I promise. I’ll help you, but you have to admit that we’re friends.”

That was not at all what I had been expecting. “Why?”

He huffed a small laugh and there might have actually been a spattering of blush on his cheeks. “Alright, this is going to make me sound like a complete douche, but it’s the truth. I swear.”

“Spit it out, Buck.”

“I like this,” he motioned to the space between us. “Because you’re not into me. Besides Nat, you’re the only other woman who doesn’t try to get my attention or get into my pants. It’s refreshing.”

“Poor Bucky,” I crooned. “It must be so hard to have all the women falling over themselves for you. Being the resident sex-god must just be the worst.”

He rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. Douchey, right?”

I shook my head and started walking towards the library. “It’s conceited, is what it is. I can guarantee you that Nat and I are not the only women who don’t want to sleep with you. You just never notice the girls who don’t pay any attention to you.”

“You’re probably right,” he surrendered. “But about our deal, whattaya say, friend? Besides, we’re gonna spend a lot of time together anyway, with Nat and Steve dating. Might as well just accept the inevitable.”

My watch vibrated just as I started to respond and I glanced down to see a short message from Tony seconds before another text came through from Jarvis.

Tony: I hate you.

Jarvis: Mr. Stark has a mild concussion but is otherwise in excellent health. He is going back home.

Turning my attention back to Bucky, I gave him a small smile. “Let’s see how the first study session goes.”

“Tomorrow at one? Grab some lunch while we’re at it?” With a victorious grin, he started walking backwards away from me.

“I have to work all day. I can do Wednesday at one though.”

“I’ll meet you at your place with food, then. See ya later, friend!”

Watching him walk away, I wondered what the hell I’d just gotten myself into.

Series Taglist Open. Add Yourself HERE

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[iphoenixrising]

For 600 Followers: The Surgeon, The Captain, and the Soldier

From the Dr!Tim Universe: civilian!Tony, Captain America!Steve, and Winter!Bucky Barnes. Mr_Flamingo said he would read the shit out of this. Welp, there you go.

Dr. Stark is a busy, busy man. Even without the weight of Stark Industries on his back (thank-you Miss Potts), he still runs from one emergency to the next.

This one just happens to be to The Captain America.

Which is so Classified even the top level brass don’t know the guy’s real name. Probably because his files have been sealed longer than most of them have been alive, which is just grand. If there’s anything Dr. Stark likes, it’s a challenge.

When Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D came to him because honestly, he the best surgeon they’re going to get in this half of the hemisphere anyway, Tony tried to throw him out for approximately twelve seconds–

Until the file was tossed over his desk and a picture flops out pretty much in his lap.

And that picture is of a beautiful man.

With a star on his chest.

“I don’t put Cosplayers over people with real problems, Nick.”

“Stark, when I say he’s the real deal, that’s what I motherfucking mean.”

Mmhm. And he graduated from Med School yesterday. “Captain America has been dead for only seventy years, give or take. Looks spry for his age, good for him. I bet he’s Osteo’s wet dream, right?” Because he really does enjoy having witty banter with his rejections.

That’s when Nick Fury leaned over his desk, “you’re the only civilian the Black Widow has ever let work on her, and you think I’m bringing you someone in a costume?”

Some of the incredulous is creeping out of this exchange with the way Fury’s remaining eye is focused. “Seventy years? Nick, that’s–” but when Nick hasn’t moved a muscle, hasn’t blinked, probably hasn’t so much as inhaled.

That’s when the possibility becomes reality.

“Holy shit.” Tony’s eyes blow wide and the run-of-the-mill play date in the lab to make something to help with those pesky arteriovenous malformations is right on the backburner. “You’re kidding me.”

“Would I be here if I was kidding, Stark? He is the real World War II veteran. You save his life and I will give you what we have on a certain reason he survived.”

Dr. Stark stares for approximately thirty seconds, judging. The next instant he’s in his sharp coat and red shades, riding to DC in an Apache helicopter.

(Once upon a time, he would have told the engineers how he could make it better, but since his Dad died, he didn’t have to build for SI anymore. He could build for his passion and not feel one fucking bit bad about it.)

Forty-five minutes and he’s scrubbing in, the situation crucial. Agent gave him the run-down without giving him any real information on how this happened. He got a glance at scans of the cranial fracture and hemorrhaging. Shards of skull had been embedded in the grey matter (which makes no sense how he survived this long except as another shred of proof he’s the real deal. Captain Fucking America… his inner fanboy is screaming behind his calm, cool, surgeon demeanor.)

The team S.H.I.E.L.D gave him for the procedure are obviously all military, and in such need of a good laugh. Dr. Stark is sure they’re under order to watch every twitch of his fingers just in case he’s going to try making Captain America a drooling moron or something while poking around in his brain. So, he has to pull out the old SI CEO song and dance, being an unrepentant witty smart ass and talk fast before any of the sternly gowned agents can threaten him with horrible dismemberment if anything should happen to their delicate snowflake.

He gets the one called Barton to crack a smile while they’re scrubbing up, and it’s all going to be fine.

All is right with the world, except when he comes into the nice, sterile OR–

Where he finds the patient awake.

“Hey there, big guy,” he pats the shoulder of the utterly stunning blonde (who is apparently as old as his great-grandpa and has abs for miles), “we probably shouldn’t be meeting this way, considering you’re apparently the biggest secret in the Modern World, next to Big Foot sightings and the what is that gross ring around the tub really made of debate, but still, it’s nice to make your acquaintance. I’m Dr. Stark, and I’ll be your surgeon for the evening. Let me guess, gurney for one?”

He’s talking but checking machines, supplies, and sliding the special eyewear, taking the opportunity to review the site opened at the scalp to show the skull fracture at the side of Captain America’s head. While he watches, the skin is trying to heal around the clamps and a nurse apparently familiar with the Captain’s rate of healing is constantly re-adjusted to keep the wound open enough for surgery.

(The impact should have killed him. How did it not kill him? “Time is of the essence, Dr. Stark. You need to pull the bone fragments while he can keep his skull from healing over it.” Christ, Agent Tight-Ass, full work-up next time for Project Super Soldier Sandwich.)

“Hm…” slurred from behind the oxygen mask, and if Dr. Stark wasn’t one hundred percent invested on making sure he had everything he would need to fix the oddly not healing bleeder in the Captain’s temporal lobe (with things like Wernicke's aphasia hovering in the background), he would have shuddered. “Got that reference, Doc. S’funny.”

Watching the electroencephalography to monitor the Captain’s brain activity, Tony glances over as S.H.I.E.L.D’s people start filtering in around him and the ones with guns watch him closely through the observation windows.

“Never doubted you for a second, Captain. Guy that punched Hitler should be right above a Yeti in my opinion. Anyhoo,” and Tony, gowned, gloved, and masked, comes around to look at the very, very blue eyes and hold a hand close to the Captain’s blonde eyebrows to check the dilation. “The nice esthetician over there is going to hit you up with something to make you very, very sleepy so I can fix that terrible headache you’re probably having right now.”

And Captain America looks up at him from under those lashes, quirks a small shit-eating grin, “ssorry, Doc Stark. Knockouts...won’t work on me. S’ ‘causea the Serum. Gonna be awake no matter how much they gimmie.”

Blinking with his heart in his throat because he can’t imagine the pain the Captain must be in right about now, Tony gets himself back with, “oh? Then I have your witty repartee to look forward to while I work, don’t I Captain?”

“SSteve, Doc. I’m SSteve.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve. I’m Tony, and I’m going to save your life.”

“Soundss like ya gotta plan, Tony.”

And when the slightly familiar red-headed nurse gives him the thumbs up and it’s time to start, he has to step back around to the site being kept open for him.

“I always have a plan, Steve. Fortunately for you, part of my plan involves great music and nice conversations while we discuss your vitals.”

AC/DC starts in with a little Back in Black. And since he is who he is, him mouth moves on autopilot while he works with a delicate touch, fast and efficient, getting side-tracked from his running monologue with Captain Awake and Alert and Answering to accept vitals and updates from the other staff.

It’s been hours, and he’s on up-to-date knock-knock jokes.

They’ve run the gambit of must-see movies (and no he doesn’t see Agent Tight-Ass writing down the ones Steve asks about in detail because yes, he should see Firefly. Alien cowboys, Captain. Alien cowboys), and spent so much time on just the 60’s.

He’s gotten some stories that are absolutely hilarious (because Steve was so curious about the most oddball shit, ATMs, Fitbits, Twitter…) and is closing the wound in Steve’s scalp before he realizes he’s...done.

“Feels so much better, Tony, thank-you.”

“Hey, glad I was in the neighborhood. You’re quite the conversationalist when I’m poking around in your brain.”

“Could say the same. Thought ya might re-wire me to do something silly. Bark like a dog when someone says bell or something.”

And the staff is cleaning up around them, giving Tony the space to ease down just a notch, and wink, “sorry Captain, something I save for the bedroom, not the operating room.”

The sparkle that lights in Steve’s eyes–

–is really his undoing.

**

Riding the high of saving Captain America’s life got him all the way home and to his bed, still churning over the events of the surgery. Butterfinger and U were happy Daddy made it home in one piece (he’d kept the failed surgical bots, unable to decommission his first attempts at independent AI just because they’d rather play fetch than learn procedures...besides, they’re his creations and with their capacity to learn, they’re still evolving), and absolutely pampered him with coffee while he told them about why he was so late.

Butterfingers booped and patted his knee lightly while U rolled back and forth in excitement. Their favorite part was about the Apache, of course. His children were Philistines (but what would he do without them?).

Waking up at one am to Agent Tight-Ass leaning against the bureau in his bedroom was probably the fright of his life.

(Probably not, but no one needs to know that. Few people knew about his kidnapping in Afghanistan from a Medical Conference five years ago.)

“The Captain won’t let another doctor examine him.” Agent Tight-Ass said without even a hello or the decor is nice. “He’s asking for you.”

Tony completely blames it on sleep deprivation when he almost says my Captain? but shakes himself out of it at the last second.

The implications of Agent being here strikes him in the very next second and he’s throwing the covers off and climbing out of bed fast. A clean pair of purple scrubs and Agent knows he goes commando under his expensive and stylish pj pants. “Post-Op complications?” The litany of problems Steve could be experiencing after such a difficult and delicate surgery flash through Tony’s frontal lobe, a slideshow of problems he should have been able to catch before anyone else.

(They shouldn’t have made me leave him. He needs to be under close observation.)

“No. But, S.H.I.E.L.D needs to verify the Captain is physically fit for duty. He won’t let another physician check him out. We’d like you to come back to DC just to make sure.”

And, well, he’s Tony Stark, so he tries to play it off in front of Agent just to be a pain in the ass to deal with, but even before he’s had a single cup of coffee, Tony is riding in another Apache with his leg bouncing in anticipation.

He’s thrown a Henley on under his scrub top, cuffs up to his elbows and probably looking like a derelict resident, but dammit, at least he has good hair.

The damn corridors are long and Agent Tight-Ass is silently striding beside him while Tony desperately holds a cup of coffee in one hand and the Captain’s chart in the other, taking in every detail and plotting out all the worst case scenarios.  What he absolutely doesn’t expect is to see the gorgeous man in dark jeans, red t-shirt, terrible trucker hat, and a single black-gloved hand standing against the wall like he’s the only thing holding the building up. Tony manages to keep his tongue in his mouth when Agent Tight-Ass stops to introduce them.

“Sergeant Barnes, this is Dr. Stark, the Captain’s neurosurgeon.”

And those eyes are like winter, grey and cool, taking him in from dirty sneakers to the half-curl just above his temple. It’s terribly frightening and arousing at the same moment and Tony is absolutely, completely out of his depth in hot men.

(And in-between relationships, isn’t he? Why are the Gods so damn cruel?)

“Very nice to meet you, Sergeant. I understand you’re an unapologetic smart-ass that can kill pretty much anything a mile away and make the worst borscht known to man. Pleasure is all mine, really. Borscht is already terrible, but making is worse? That has to take substantial talent.”

What he doesn’t expect is the tall, intimidating brunette with the sexiest stubbled jaw to blink down at him, head cocking sideways like an inquisitive cat, “s’at so?  I think the pleasure is all mine, Doll. After all, Stevie ain’t quit talkin’ ya up all night. ‘Preciate ya taking good care a’ him fer me.”

Ah. Barnes. James Buchanan Barnes. Always thought those stories were exaggerated.

Tony absolutely does not, does not (think about them together), lick his bottom lip while staring up into those eyes. “Anything I can do for the red, white, and blue, Sergeant Barnes. Just showing my...patriotism.”

Tony grins wide when he gets the Sergeant to laugh out loud, ruining his intense I will murder you vibe.

“Speaking of the Captain,” Agent Tight-Ass interrupts smoothly.

Both of them give the agent waiting with a patient, pleasantly neutral expression, and when Tony looks back, he can see the tension in James Barnes, and lets himself be his usual kind of confident.

“Honestly, I’m going to take good care of him. If the slightest thing deviates from absolutely normal, you will be the first person to know.”

“Thanks, Doll. Good t’ know he’s in the best hands,” and the gloved one squeezes his bicep, right above his elbow (and he is completely imagining that hand has absolutely no give whatsoever) before he turns to where Agent is holding the door open.

The Captain is awake at this ungodly hour and apparently more chipper when he wasn’t in horrible distress from bleeding all up in his grey matter. It was really nice to see this side and observe his handiwork, amazed the staples had already worked themselves out and there wasn’t even a scar to show surgery had ever taken place.

(Steve’s hair is soft and unfairly naturally fluffy. Tony’s bare fingers are threaded in it while his thumbs press lightly over the surgical site to test the healing and be fucking amazed.)

Sergeant Barnes is there for the examination, back in a corner, with that sensual bad boy thing going on, arms crossed over his chest, eyes sweeping the room every few minutes (like he wouldn’t notice?).

And once he checks the normal vitals and signs, looks for all abnormalities, any hint of a complication, Tony Stark–

–lies through his teeth.

“You need at least a week of rest. No strenuous activity at all. No punching Nazis, jumping out of planes, or potentially dangerous anything. Watch terrible daytime TV, eat your weight in bad food, and take it easy. The possibility for complications, or of re-opening the bleed site is high, even for a Super Soldier. Normal downtime would be months, I’m giving you a week. No arguments Captain.”

He turns to look at the Sergeant over his shoulder and they exchange a nod, but he sees James Barnes rolling his lips down like he’s trying not to smile.

“A week? A whole week?” The Captain honest-to-God whines, looking up at him, sitting up with perfect posture that makes his chest thrust out in such a distracting way.

(Those eyes should really be illegal.)

“Absolutely. I’m saying only a week, okay? That is very, very good news for you. From the scans taken less than an hour ago, you’re healing quickly and well. Still, we’re not going to take anything to chance.”

He grins down, completely confident he’s giving Steve the chance to get out in the world more, maybe get out from under all the Agent-Agents around here.

It’s all too soon he’s being ushered out the room and back to his Penthouse in New York, his heart thundering in his chest. The last twenty-four hours seem like some kind of dream, some kind of forbidden fantasy, something he couldn’t have really done, and being set back at his place with his bots and his lab, his nice office in Stark Medical waiting for him tomorrow, with endless calls from Pepper about the Board really wanting him present for the Quarterly Meeting this time, all of reality lays so heavy on him that he thinks maybe Agent Tight-Ass messed with his memories somehow so he’d never be able to tell anyone why S.H.I.E.L.D really wanted him in the first place.

He goes back to bed for an hour of sleep, thinking about Sergeant Barnes’ hand and Captain Roger’s eyes.

Dodging Pepper’s calls the next day between consults, residents, trips to the robotics, and some time spent in the lab, he’s in his office for a whopping fifteen minutes when his secretary knocks on his door.

“I’m sorry Dr. Stark, but they said they know you and he’s your patient–”

When Captain America and Bucky Barnes appear over her shoulder, looking a devilish mix of sheepish (Steve) and smary as hell (of course, the crackshot), Tony wonders how much effort it would take to clear his schedule completely–

–for the next seven days.

[sirsapling]

Give me bottom!steve fics my lord. Please. If you have any.

I’m gonna assume you’re asking for fic recs and if you are YOU ARE IN THE RIGHT PLACE BECAUSE BOTTOM!STEVE IS MY EXACT JAM.

This post is gonna be long because I have a lot of fics to rec so to avoid clogging anyones time line its all under the cut. If you thought I might only have a few recs for this you are deadass wrong, this is exactly the thing I will go all out on.

Some of these may contain switching but for the most part they will be entirely Bottom!steve. Because I’m picky.

All the works are sorted by word count. *’d works are some of my particular return-to-favourites, though i’ll say I have read and adore every single work on this list. Theres also a whole mishmash of tropes from A/B/O to crossdressing so remember to check the tags.

Untitled - by @iwritestony (772 words, Ambiguous Universe)

Tony fucks Steve in front of the other Avengers

Again and Again - by Mabonwitch (808 words, MCU)

Tony rims Steve until Steve cries.

Satiety - by Sinope (956 words, MCU)

From a kinkmeme prompt: Tony builds a fucking machine designed specifically for Steve. It fucks him for hours, through multiple orgasms until he’s sore to the point of crying and begs for it to stop. Once Steve can’t come anymore, Tony unties him and plays with his sore hole. Then he fucks him. Afterwards, he licks his cum out of Steve.

Contains exactly what it says on the box.

Take - by anonymous (1k words, Ambiguous Universe)

For the cap kink prompt: Tony has been having a lot of fantasies of topping Steve, but is kind of a jerk about it. He thinks the man would never accept another man near his ass and makes a lot of jokes at Steve’s expense. Finally, after a long song and dance, the truth comes out. Steve is a virgin, has never been with anyone, and is more than happy to let Tony top in bed. Gentle sex ensues 

Playing nice - by Sharkie335 (1k words, MCU)

Tony’s been trying to be a gentleman. Apparently Steve’s tired of it.

Die Easy - by schmevil (1k words, Comic’s Ambiguous Universe)

Steve gives it up. Also, there’s a blindfold. Shameless PWP.

Merit Badges - by myadamantiumheart (1k words, Ambiguous Universe)

Tony Stark never thought he’d have a thing for boy scouts- but then he met Steve Rogers. (Steve-is-a-boy-scout-troop-leader-AU)

Beg - by captain_americano (1k words, MCU)

Tony picks up a tasty little piece, and can’t really help but go all-out.

 Last Night I Dreamt I Was In The Labyrinth - by valtyr (1k words, Ults)

“For my next trick: Ultimate fic with Steve bottoming. YOU WAIT.” - valtyr, 7th April 2009. I deliver.

Mutually Beneficial - by @cptxrogers​ (2k words, Ults)*

An ode to how much Ults Steve likes getting fucked.

Minor Inconvenience - by Tony (2k words, Ambiguous A/B/O)*

written for a SteveTonyFest prompter who wanted Omega!Steve in heat

Talk Filthy to Me - by starsandstark (2k words, MCU)

A fic in which Steve loves for Tony to say all the filthy, degrading things he’s going to do to him in bed. PWP, extremely explicit and graphic Stony sex with bottom!Steve and a sweet ending.

The Libertines - by Anonymous (2k words, MCU AU)

The Darker side of the earth’s mightiest heroes.

No Other Explanation - by attice (2k words, MCU)

Tony Stark is always onstage. He plays different parts. Even in his mind, Steve knows—because there is no other explanation for the differences in his kisses.

Taking what you want - Telaryn (2k words, MCU)

Cap struggles to reconcile his complicated attraction to Tony Stark with the simpler sexual morality of his youth. First time fic.

Your Kind of Love - by Blue_jack (2k words, MCU)

The first time they have sex, Tony isn’t really hoping for much.

Paint Job  - by @cptxrogers​​ (3k words, MCU)*

“You want me to what?” Steve looked incredulous.“I want you to detail my car,” Tony said with a smirk.

Loosening the Reins - by @ashes0909​ (3k words, MCU A/B/O)*

Everything was hazing all over now. All Steve knew was that Tony smelled so good, like mate and alpha, and his neck ached for his mark and they’d talked about this, about becoming each other’s this way, but nothing could prepare him for the need that coursed through him.

Sir, Yes Sir - by someidiothasice (3k words, MCU)

Exasperated as he was, Steve couldn’t hold back a breathless laugh even as he rolled his hips into Tony’s hand. He just wasn’t sure what he was doing wrong.Steve had spent the better part of the night bending over in front of Tony, taking every opportunity to pick things up off the floor in the hopes of Tony getting an eyeful of his ass and ending up with ideas. But it seemed the only ideas in Tony’s mind had to do with getting himself a piece of what was down the front of Steve’s pants.

Breathe - by Robin_tCJ (3k words, MCU)

Bingo square prompt is ‘breathplay’.Right now, Tony’s most favourite thing about Steve is his ass.Specifically, the way it’s currently peeking out of the bottom of a pair of white, lacy panties.The thing most people don’t know about Steve is how … adventurous he can be.

Gold “Member” - by Amuly (3k words, 616)

Tony realizes one night that the golden under-armor he pulls out of his skin with Extremis can be pulled out to cover only very specific parts of his anatomy. Namely, his penis.

He decides he really needs to share this with Steve.

How to Top a Supersoldier - by @festiveferret​ (4k words, MCU)*

Steve was causing the problem in the first place. Steve who had turned bright red and bitten his lip when he’d found out that Tony had been “cursed” with temporary super strength. Steve who had been vibrating in the seat next to Tony throughout this entire meeting.

Steve who was currently 100% rock hard, Tony had no doubt, and hiding it masterfully by clutching the shield over his lap.

What Are Friends For? - by woad (4k words, 616)

A combination of the serum and an alien virus leaves Steve in an embarrassing predicament. Luckily, Tony is there to help. AKA, the one where Tony compares Steve to a salmon.

One Last Time - by @festiveferret​ (4k words, MCU)

Tony is getting married tomorrow, but tonight…

Come on Closer - by Epiphanyx7 (4k words, MCU)

[[… porn.]]

Or, the one where Steve wants to talk to Tony about something important

Distractions - by blathering_kat, Etharei, fiarra (4k words, Ambiguous Universe)

Steve should really think before he plays with Tony’s toys..

Fever, Breathe Your Love on Me - by blue_jack (4k words, MCU AU A/B/O)* 

Steve hates his bi-annual checkup.

“Mr. Rogers?” Nurse Grace calls, and he inhales sharply before standing up to follow her into the back.

He answers the standard “how are you doing today?” and “is there anything you want to mention to the doctor?” questions, and he tries not to fidget, but it’s hard to keep still.

He’s just getting so wet.

just a taste - by Mabonwitch (5k, MCU)

Steve’s not sure what he is, but he knows what he wants.

Heat (series) - by gracerene (5k words, MCU)*

Steve and Tony share a bed and end up getting more than they’d bargained for.

Bright As You Can - by @sineala​ (6k words, Ults and Noir)*

When Steve shows up at Tony’s penthouse for one of their usual no-strings-attached dalliances, he’s sure as hell not expecting to find a second Tony waiting for him. And they’re both interested in keeping him company.

Some Kind of Madness - by Blue_Jack (6k words, MCU)

“Mmm, Steve, I love your tits.”

Open for Christmas - by @festiveferret​ (9k words, MCU AU)

It was Christmas fucking Eve, in the middle of fucking nowhere, and his car was completely fucking dead.

Fuck.

Just for the Conversation - by @msermesth​ (9k words, Ults and 616)*

Tony’s fine. He’s back on the Avengers, Steve seems to have forgiven him, and he’s building Resilient to change the world.

Then why is he so jealous of Steve’s new boyfriend?

(Or: that awkward moment when you realize you are in love with your old best friend while having a three-way with him and his boyfriend, who just happens to be your counterpart from another universe.)

Unfurl Your Gown - by theladyingrey42 (8k words, MCU)*

“I feel ridiculous.” Steve scowls at his drink and pretends he’s not shifting just to feel the skirt against his thighs.

Come on and Get Your Kicks - by Dira Sudis (dsudis) (8k words, MCU)

“At the end of the day, you just want to be my pretty little girl, is that it?”

Steve surged up to wrap his arms around Tony, kissing him with the kind of filthy fervor that Steve usually reserved for you could have died or I haven’t had an orgasm in 36 hours.

So, all right then. Hypothesis confirmed.

Never is a Promise - by Manic_intent (9k words, MCU A/B/O)*

Steve had to admit that he had some reservations about how the New Century handled the social balance between alphas and omegas.

Prima Nocta - by @sabrecmc​ (10k words, MCU AU)

This was a Thank You Fic request for Anon, who wanted to incorporate Tony’s reference in AoU to prima nocta and bottom!Steve. 

A Proportional Response - by @msermesth​ (11k words, Ults)

Steve doesn’t have a reason for cock-blocking Tony.

No reason, whatsoever.

Saddle up, buttercup - by fakesheep-luna (octavaluna) (12k words, MCU AU, WIP)*

“Are you really a mechanic or have I accidentally walked into a porno?”

As far as first meetings go, theirs is pretty damn awesome. Steve is a kinky slut, Tony may be more than a little bit of a sadist and a good fuck is a perfectly fine form of payment for emergency car repairs.

And that should be the end of it, but then again, Steve turned himself into a human guinea pig once just for the sake of getting the fuck away from his hometown. The memory of Tony’s hands on his ass is more than enough to make him ignore all the offhanded mentions of the man’s criminal record and focus on new and creative ways to wreck that old pile of junk that is supposed to be his car.

The sex is worth it. The sex is worth everything.

I won’t leave you falling - by @blossomsinthemist​ (14k words, 616)*

Tony doms for Steve, which involves some specially enhanced red rope, cock rings, two vibrators, and a lot of orgasm control. It works out. Bottom Steve, trembling and desperate to come, loving dom Tony, plenty of aftercare.

I’m going to detour for a slight second here to say just read all of blossom’s works because if I rec them all we’ll be here all day. They are stunning, by far some of the best porn I’ve ever read. I’d also recommend reading her bottom/sub tony works, because even I, a notoriously picky bottom steve only reader, loved them. Especially 20 Crazy-Romantic Creative Ways To Say ‘I Love You’ a stand out favourite fic of mine. If she ever ends up writing bottom dom steve it’ll probably kill me.

Hands All Over (The Happy Ending Remix) - by @festiveferret​​ (16k words, MCU AU) 

Tony is a mobile massage therapist, and Captain America needs to relax. What could go wrong?

Rock Splits, Records Fall Down - by Valtyr (18k words, ults)

AU at the end of Ultimates 2. Time passes. The Ultimates try to work out where they’re going and what they’re doing, with a moderate level of success

Crash Love - by @s-hylor (21k words, Ults)* 

It’s just sex. Just sex between two consenting adults who don’t have feelings for each other beyond the camaraderie that comes from being on the same team.

It’s just sex. Until it isn’t. It’s not love. Until it is.

It’s because I Need to, Not because I Want to - by Anon1Adult (24k words, 616, WIP)*

“So I’m learning forty-five minutes is about my max.” Tony said casually.

Steve smirked, “Is this you asking to hold my hand?”

“No this is me admitting I have a medical condition.” Tony replied reclined on the couch, kicking his now bare feet up on the coffee table. “Now get over here so I can hold your hand.”- - -Or the one where the Avengers are going to leave street crime to Spider-Man because rolling around in the mud apparently makes you dirty.

The Emperor’s Fury - by Valtyr (39k words, Ults AU) ** one of my two all time favourite Fics

Steve is an ex-gladiator. Tony wears a toga. Together, they litigate civil cases. Also a surprising amount of boating.

How We Met - by @festiveferret​​ (41k words, MCU AU)*

Life was pretty simple for Tony - work on his graduate thesis, hang out with his robotics projects in his unusual apartment, and fuck people for money. At least, it was simple until he met Steve Rogers.

Gift With Purchase Remix - by @sabrecmc​ (43k words, MCU AU)

Gift With Purchase Remix wherein Steve actually is a hooker. But for a Really Sympathetic Reason.

Poster Child (series) - by @sabrecmc​ (45k words, MCU)

Tony likes the new poster of Captain America. A LOT.

To Liars and Saving the World - by Magicasen (45k words, Ults)

When Tony’s life is in danger, Steve does the only thing he can do to save his teammate: he makes an honest man out of him. Steve and Tony’s sham marriage is only supposed to be a blip in their history that no one has to know about. But when they’re outed to the press, and with ghosts from his past coming to haunt him, Steve must come to terms with the idea that his own feelings for Tony might not be a lie.

This Is Not A Drill (series) - by @sabrecmc​ (51k words, MCU A/B/O)*

“Can I—can I see him? I mean meet him. Uh…welcome him to the team?” Tony clarified, probably not very well, he knew.

“Well…there’s a bit of an issue with that,” Fury said, and Tony figured this was where Fury got to whatever it was that had really forced his hand and made him call Tony in, knowing how much the man detested having to do so. “You see, well. He was suspended in the ice for nearly seventy years,” Fury began. Tony nodded along, because he could do math.

“I’m sure he has a lot of adjusting to do—“ Tony started.

“Seventy years,” Fury repeated, cutting Tony off and leaning back in his chair and making it rock slightly. “Of no suppressants.”

“Oh,” Tony managed to choke out past the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “Oh.”

Sweet Skin and Delicate Fabric (series) - by within_a_rustic_cafe (53k words, MCU, still adding works)

Steve and Tony embracing Steve’s love for lingerie!

Tiny Spy Assassin Steve (series) - by @copperbadge​ (89k words, MCU AU)*

An AU in which Steve Rogers was born into the modern day and never received the Serum, but managed to make it into SHIELD as a handpicked protege of senior field agent Abraham Erskine. Along with Phil Coulson, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Peggy Carter, and eventually Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes, Steve still tries to make a difference. Particularly in the life of Tony Stark, who picked up what he thought was an art student in a bar, and ended up dating one of SHIELD’s top agents…

Held (series) - by @ashes0909 and @festiveferret (95k words, MCU, still adding works)*

After the ice one thing remained the same: Captain America gave the orders. In the middle of battle his world narrowed to a calm and controllable moment. When they fought the super-villain of the week, he knew what to do. He knew how to get his men in and out, how to minimize the damage. On the battlefield he gave the orders.

People always assumed that would transfer to the bedroom, as well.

Never Too Late for Love - by @sineala​ (98k words, Ults)*

Steve has always believed that a soulbond is a blessing – a rare and beautiful miracle, joining the thoughts and feelings of two people forever, from the first time they touch. Steve knows he’s not going to be one of the lucky ones. He knows Gail isn’t his soulmate. But he loves her, even if they’re not soulmates, and he’s going to do right by her. After the war’s over, he’s going to marry her, and they’re going to settle down. They’ll buy a house. They’ll have children. He’ll see his family again. Maybe Bucky will live next door. It’s going to be a good life. He doesn’t need a soulbond. He’ll be fine without one.

Then Steve wakes up sixty years in the future to find that his wonderful life has moved on without him. His family is long dead. His fiancée married his best friend. And the only purpose he has left is leading the Ultimates, a misbegotten team of superheroes with flaws too numerous to count. Steve hates everything about the future – but most of all he detests Tony, flashy and flirtatious, who embodies everything Steve hates about a world he never wanted to live in.

And, oh, yeah, Steve has a soulmate after all: Tony fucking Stark.

The Prize - by @sabrecmc​ (108k words, MCU AU, WIP)*

Steve ends up as a concubine in the royal harem.

I also left a pair of prompts on the CAP-IM kink meme that got some glorious bottom Steve fills:

For (Ults) Aliens make them do it/ Fuck or Die (Dub-con/Non-con):

Untitled - by anonymous (5k words, ults)*

For Size Queen Steve: 

Larger Than Life - by @festiveferret (3k words, MCU )*

Steve wants that in him. Right now.

Size Me Up - by enkiduu (1k words, MCU)*

The thing is, nobody ever mentions how good Tony is for others. They always talk about greed and pride and how the billionaire always gets the world he wants (does he?), but nobody ever talks about how Tony always does his best to please the world (doesn’t he?).

Un(underneath, unveiled, undone) - by @salablemystic (8k words, MCU)*

The internet … knows things. Private things. Things that it has no business knowing. Things like … the (very impressive) size of one Anthony Edward Stark’s cock. Steve … can’t unlearn that knowledge.And, oh, he wants… .

I also have a few bottom Steve work’s I co wrote worth putting here:

Exposed - by @festiveferret and Myself (5k words, Ults)

Art is Long and Life is Short (series) - by @festiveferret​ and Myself (122k words, MCU AU, WIP)

There are SO many more gorgeous Bottom Steve works out there that I have no doubt missed, I would have put every single bottom steve story i’ve ever read on here if i could but sadly Im limited to my bookmarks and prior knowledge. As I stated above I have read every single one of these works, they are all amazing. Also if anyone has a bottom steve work not on here, please put it in the replies I’d love to read more.

[radi0active-thoughts]

Ghost, Chapter 1 - “I’ll Come Crashing”

A/N: Chapter inspired by the song "I'll Come Crashing" by A Giant Dog. I'm actually molding a playlist for this story on Spotify and I'll share the link as soon as it's ready. By the way, special thanks for @witchymarvelspacecase for being an amazing beta reader an helping me with my “not-that-good” english. <3

A/N, 2: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

Chapter summary: After a few days unconscious, the reader finds herself in a hospital bed and freaks out in a murderous way, until she finds out where she is.

Warnings (for the chapter): Violence, swearing and nudity. Oh, and light smut.

 Y/N: Your name Y/LN: Your last name.

Word count: 1,912

Upstate New York: A few days later

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

I took a deep breath as I tried to open my eyes. There was a bright light flashing that made me not want to open my eyes. I was feeling had an almost unbearable headache.

“Shit,” I thought to myself, “Did I die? Is this the Purgatory?”

I made my eyes open and let them adjust to the light above me, so I could look around: The room I was in had entirely glass walls, and I was all wired up with in a lot of hospital like care equipment; a heart rate and blood pressure monitor, and an IV in my arm pumping medicine into my veins.

I gathered the strength to pinch my left arm, just to check if I was really alive, and I thanked God for cheating death. Damn straight. I began to move carefully and sat on the edge of the hospital bed. The scratches that I had earned during my journey through the Amazonian rainforest, and the bullet wounds I had gained were entirely healed.

“How did my injuries heal that fast? More importantly of it all: where the Hell I am?” I thought.

That's when I saw a guard at the door of my room. He was armed and wore all the attire for a private security guard. I continued to look at my surroundings and my body trembled as I tried to get up. 

"Calm down, Y/N" I sighed while stretching my body, my muscles stopped trembling from the tension they held. "Calm the fuck down... now, what do I do?"

All I wore was one of those surgical gowns with a rear opening, my hair wasn't tied, but I found a black hair tie. The armed dude at the door held a machine gun and had a few more compartments on his gear that held a knife and a revolver. I smirked.

"Oh, here's what I'm gonna do..." I whispered under my breath while tieing my hair in a ponytail.

I limped to the door and opened it, catching the guard's attention. He was kinda cute.

"Hey, handsome." I gave him my best smile. He didn't look impressed. "I'm kinda bored inside this room and you might be bored here too, so... why not help each other out and do something that both of us will enjoy, huh?"

He kept looking at me and I made sure I gave him an innocent smile and showed off my left leg, which is entirely tattooed with flowers.

"I can't, Miss." he responded simply and I pouted.

"What a shame." I approached him and caressed his thigh, lightly touching his cock. "We could be, you know, useful to each other."

"But people could see us." He whispered and gestured with his head to the walls, but I continued and I guided one of his hands, so he could touch me.

"We'd give 'em a hell of a show, don't you think?" I made him touch my inner thighs and his lips curved into a smile. He pulled my body to his and I reached his belt to find a taser. I turned it on.

"What are yo-UGH" I gave him no time to ask as his body reacted to the shock, falling to the floor. I bent down so I could take his gun and a loaded cartridge.

I definitely have no space to take a machine gun with me, I thought. Unfortunately.

"Sorry sugar, nothing personal." I said. The man, whose surname was Payne, groaned in response. "You're super cute though, we should go out sometime."

I got up and began to find my way out of that building. Two guards tried to stop me when they saw me approaching holding a gun.

"Hey!" one of them screamed. With no second thoughts, I turned around, shot them both and began to run as quickly as my bum leg could manage to the next corridor.

"Oh, shit!" I said while running as an emergency horn started blaring through the speakers. A few guards almost caught up with me but man, I was quicker than they thought.

My right elbow hit the stomach of the dude closest to me and I kicked the other one on his left knee. I shot a third one who was running to me and, when I tried for a second shot, the gun clicked, the cartridge was empty.

"Oh, sweet Payne." I whispered while reloading the gun. "You're cute but dumb, never mind, I'm not gonna go out with you."

The guard I hit with my elbow attacked me again, holding my body against the wall. I couldn't help but smirk.

"Not gonna pay for a coffee first, sweetie?" I asked and hit his head with mine, before setting myself free and hitting his head against the wall.

Then, the one that I kicked in the knee came to me and I gave him another kick, in his stomach this time, so he hit the floor. And then I started to run again.

I had to leave that place as soon as possible, even though I could feel every inch of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

I ran and scared the hospital workers while I tried to get away.

"Hold her!" I heard someone shouting. I looked back and saw a few more guards running toward me. I ran on and found an Asian woman holding an iPad and wearing a medical coat. I pulled her to me, protecting my body.

"Who are you?" I asked her, touching her back with the gun.

She swallowed hard. "D-doctor Helen Cho." she answered trembling in fear. 

"Okay." I whispered. "Here's the thing, Doctor. I need you to take me to the best way out of this place, you hear me? Nod if you do."

She nodded. "Are you gon-"

"No, I'm not gonna kill you if that's what you're asking." I answered. "Just take me out of here."

"O-okay". She said and I pointed the gun to her head when I saw the guards approach. Helen took a deep breath.

"Come closer and she dies." I screamed and they stopped in their tracks. All of the workers were in a panic. "If you don't wanna see brains decorating your walls, don't make any fucking moves."

When I realized they took that threat seriously, I pulled the Doctor with me and took the gun off of her head as we began to walk.

"Where do we go now?" I asked her and she thought for a while. I sighed. "I don't have all day long."

"We go left." she answered and I pulled her so she'd lead the way. We entered a elevator and went a few floors down, so we were now in a lounge that looked like a big ass billionaire bar.

I wandered about that place, until I heard a manly voice.

"Cho, what are yo-" he said when I pointed the gun to her head. "Oh, shit!".

"Stay back." I said while I took the sight of five men and two women looking at the scene in shock. I pointed the gun to her head once again. "If you don't want her brains scattered to the floor, you better stay back!"

"You ain't doing that, Miss." I heard one of them, a tall, well built, and blond dude, speaking.

"You better not doubt me." I retorted.

"You're wearing a surgical gown." one of the women, a redhead, said matter of factly.

"I've done more with less clothes on." I said.

"I don't doubt it." a brunette man with tanned skin said. He was shorter than the other men in the room but I recognized him somehow. "By the way, I was waiting for you, Y/N Y/LN."

"How do you know my name?" I asked as I took the gun of Helen's head, who was definitely calmer than I was. As I waited for an answer, I took my time to whisper in her ear. "Go back to your job. I'm really sorry I had to do this."

"That's ok." She simply said and nodded as she left the room. "I know you've done worse."

What did she mean by that? I thought.

"First of all, you might know me, right?" the man asked.

"Vaguely" I looked more into his features, but my brain didn't give me any names. "I guess."

"Somebody who doesn't know you, Stark?" a black man asked with a smirk. "That's new."

"Shut your fucking face, Birdie." the Stark dude said. I was about to laugh when I realized who I was talking with.

"Language." the blond hunk pointed.

"Shut your face, Steve." a man with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes said and I also knew him.

"You're Tony Stark." I said in disbelief and with wide eyes. And then I looked to the man on his left, whom I knew as Lewis. "And you... I’ve done a few jobs for you."

"Damn straight, girl." he said and looked to the man who gave me jobs. "But his name isn't Lewis."

"I'm Clint Barton." he said. "But I'm known as Hawkeye."

I tried to process all the information. I was in a building in I-didn't-know-where, with the dude who owns Stark Industries and is goddamn Iron Man and with a dude who gave me jobs, whose name was apparently not Lewis, but Clint and he's motherfucking Hawkeye.

"Y-you're the Avengers." I stuttered in my own breath.

"I can tell she's surprised and scared at the same time." a woman, no, a girl with brown hair said, with an European accent.

"I'm not scared." I stated as I took a deep breath.

"No?" Tony gave me a questioning look.

"I can make you dance like a fucking Leprechaun if I want, Stark." I said when I pointed the gun to his feet. "And it's not even St. Patrick's Day."

I heard a few snickers and the team, except for Stark, broke the seriousness of the moment trying to supress their giggles.

"There's no need to make me brag about my dance moves, Y/N." He said when he understood what I meant. "I have a proposal for you."

"What kind of proposal?" I asked him.

"First of all" he began. "I assume you need some rest, food and clean clothes. We can talk about this later."

"You might be cold..." the man who Tony referred as Birdie, Falcon, said. "Wearing only this."

"No, not at all." I said and he shrugged.

"You need to cover yourself up." the blond dude, that I recognized as the Captain America, said.

"No, there's no need." I said politely.

"But you're only wearing a camisole..." he insisted and I sighed in annoyance.

I began to take that surgical gown off of my body, getting naked in front of them all. I suddenly regretted, that room was really freezing and my body was in chills.

"Is this a bother for you right now?" I asked. The poor man blushed and looked away. I looked to all the Avengers that watched the scene, nodded simply and turned around still holding the gun and started to walk.

"FRIDAY?" I heard Tony say.

"Yes, Mr. Stark?" the robot system answered.

"Show Mrs. Y/LN her new room." He commanded.

"Go to the elevator, Mrs. Y/LN." FRIDAY began to instruct and I did as I was told.

“Whatever Tony's proposal is, it might be interesting”. I began to think as a smile formed on my lips. “This is gonna be fun”

Tags: @annabella789 @barnesdeservestheworld @theseldomseenkilljoy @blue-crayon-18 @ladylustitia @curlyhairedlolita @wowspideyholland @wicket-master

[imaginedeux]

Snow Fall

A/N: Alright so, Hi. I know it’s been a long ass time since i’ve done anything to this blog and I apologize, but I've just finished my second to last semester of University, and all my time has been going to my studies. But anyways, I was inspired to write this because, it snowed in my hometown a couple of weeks ago, and it hasn't snowed here in over 10 years. And idk i just wanted to write something with snow in it.

“Ni!” You, yelled seeing her best friend walk down the flight of stairs to the first floor of the airport! “It’s so nice to see you, it’s been so long.” You gushed taking him in for a hug.

“Its nice to see you too, Petal.” Niall smiled lifting you up, and spinning the two of you around. “Almost didn't make it, they wanted to delay the flight because there was ice on the run way. I thought it didn't get cold here.”

“It doesn't but a weird cold front is coming through today, but it’ll be gone in a couple of days. Now come on, my mom and dad are waiting for us at the restaurant, and my mom has to go into work in a couple of hours.” You explained grabbing one of Niall’s bags, before you dragged him to your car.

You, and Niall have known each other since before Niall was in One Direction, when you accidentally met on Bebo, you kept in touch as Niall’s fame rose, and you continued with your schooling. You, were only ever able to attend one One Direction concert, and it was the first time that the two of you met face to face. As cliche as it sounds, it was love at first sight for you, but you knew you didn't want to sacrifice the friendship the two of you had gained over the past couple of years and has kept those feelings to yourself. The two of you continued to keep in touch as One Direction started their hiatus, and you started on your second half of University, Niall started to visit you in your home town soon after the hiatus started. Your parents instantly took him in, they had met over face time a couple of times, and they trusted the pop star. It had been a while since he was able to visit because of the release of Flicker, and because of tour, but since the last concert was a couple of days ago, Niall had a couple of weeks of break, before he would go home to visit his family for the holidays.

“It was so nice to see you Niall, I’ll probably see you all in the morning.” Your, said bringing Niall in for a hug before she headed off to work.

“Nice to see you too, if you get too bored call (Y/N), so we can go and visit you like last time.” Niall joked as she shook her head.

“Now that we’re done with lunch, what do you plan on doing?” Your dad asked  tightening the scarf around his mouth, it had dropped a couple of degrees since they all got to the restaurant and it was starting to hail a little bit.

“I actually have my last final at 4:30, so I’m going to have to go to school to study for my final a little while more. So I don't know if you want to stay at home and chill, or come to school with me.”

“I’ll go to school with you, it’ll be fun to actually be at an American College.” Niall gushed in his best American accent, the biggest smile on his face. You shook your head, and bid your dad a bye and headed to school.

"Thats why Pop Art created a huge movement in the U.S., and started a new value system when it came to the creation of art.” You explained coming through the front door, take out hot in your hands, and Niall hot on your heels. “Dad, i’m home and with food!”

“I was about to order some food, but it looks like you read my mind. How was the drive, has the rain and ice been getting worse?” Your dad asked coming out of his room.

“It’s started to get lighter since we left the restaurant, lets hope it’ll stop by the time mom comes home. Now come on, lets eat before the food gets cold.” You said happily, taking off the tinfoil from some of the food containers. The meal was enjoyed because of how much Niall and your father talked, you looked between the two, with a smile on your face. Your dad never got this close to any of your ex-boyfriends, but Niall wasn't your boyfriend. You shook that thought out of your head seeing both Niall and you dad finish with their meal. “Hey, why don't y’all pick a movie to watch? While I clean up.”

“I’m actually heading to bed, I’ve got a doctor’s appointment early tomorrow. So goodnight, i’ll see y’all in the morning.” Your dad said giving you a hug as Niall gathered the empty take away boxes. “Make sure you use protection.” He laughed letting you go.

“Goodnight dad!” You groaned as he waved the two of you off, before going into his room. “Hey, I said I was going to clean. You’ve been through a lot today, I’ll meet you in the living room.”

“It’s no problem, besides, it still feels like I haven't talked to you today.” Niall said looking at you grabbing a couple more of the boxes. You smiled at him before you grabbed the last couple of boxes.

“Niall! Niall! Wake up!” You yelled trying to wake up your best friend from his deep slumber. “Niall please!” You pleaded one more time before you turned on the light to the guest room, where he was sleeping.

“What is it Petal?” Niall moaned, cracking open one eye to find that his best friend had left the room.

“It’s snowing! It’s fucking snowing!” You yelled pocking your head into the door way. “My mom just came from work and she woke me up to tell me it’s snowing!”

“Is it really now?” He asked sitting up from the bed, before he grabbed his phone from the night stand. “It’s almost midnight, did your mum work late again?”

“No, she was giving a friend a ride home, but thats not the point. Put on some warm clothes, and I’ll meet you outside!” You said excitedly trying to put on your Sk8-Hi Vans . Niall couldn't help but laugh at the sight of his best friend, you were wearing two sweaters, a beanie, some leggings with fleece on the inside, and two pairs of fluffy socks. Niall took his time getting ready, since he had just come in from London, so he was prepared for cold weather, and because snow wasn't a foreign concept to him.

“Oh, geez, its really chucking it down isn't it?” Niall asked opening the front door to your house, to find a good inch or two of snow covering the ground and the palm trees that your parents had in the front yard.

“Yeah, it was just ice earlier, but now it’s finally snow.” Your mom commented taking a sip of her coffee, clearly trying to defrost from the cold. “We haven't gotten snow since Christmas Eve 2003, so something like this is rare for us.” She explained looking back at her husband who was drinking his own coffee.

“Niall come on!” You yelled grabbing chunks of snow off your car trying to make a small snowman.

“Alright, alright.” He laughed walking over to you. “Geeze I haven't seen you this excited since your first One Direction concert.”

“I’ve never see it snow like this. Niall, this doesn't happen here!” You yelled into the night, the snow fall dancing around you. “Its absolutely beautiful.”

“Yeah it is, here’s some gloves. Put them on before you get frost bite or something.” Niall chuckled putting them on your cold hands. “You got lucky that I brought some extra, at least I know what to get your for Christmas now.”

“This is the first time that it’s snowed here in over 10 years, you don't need to buy me gloves Ni.” You smiled looking down at the warm gloves in your hands. “Now come on, help me build a snowman!”

“Alright, alright.” Niall laughed, while he wasn't the biggest fan of the cold, and much less the snow, he saw why you were enjoying it so much. The rosiness in your cheeks and on your nose made Niall smile, and cause his own cheeks to turn red. Seeing you this happy made butterflies erupt in his stomach, he’d seen you at your best, and your worst, this was on another level of best, and made him start to think. Would the butterflies still be there, if someone else was making you smile like this? No, he knew he wanted to be the one to make you smile from ear to ear. “What the hell?” Niall yelled feeling a snowball hit him in the side of the head, taking him out of his day dream.

“I’ve been calling you for a while now Ni, gotta pay attention!” You laughed, a mischievous smile on your face, and another snowball ready to throw in your hand.

“You better watch yourself there Petal, I have more experience in snow than you do.” Niall laughed, quickly making a snowball before throwing it at you. Missing, you quickly threw the snowball in hand and hid behind your car, grabbing more snow as you went.

“Snowball fight!” You screamed, not even throwing snowballs anymore, any amount of snow you got in your hands was enough for you. It didn't take long for you to realize that Niall was no longer in your front yard, you looked for his footprints but they had already been buried under another blanket of snow. “Niall?” You called looking for him.

“Got yah!” Niall yelled from behind you, before lifting you over his shoulder.

“Ni! Let me down!”

“Oh, you want to get down do you? Alright.” Niall laughed before he put you on the cold ground.

“Niall! Its cold!” You yelled laughing looking up at Niall who was standing over you. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight, the snow flakes in his hair twinkled like stars in the night sky. Smoke filled the air as he continued to laugh, his cheeks and nose turning a scarlet color because of the frost falling onto his cheeks.

“What you looking at there (Y/N)?” Niall asked helping you up from the ground. “Did you hit your head? I didn't mean to!”

“No, no no. I’m fine. Just trying to get over the fact that you tossed me onto the cold hard ground.” You said grabbing his hand, helping yourself up.

“Oh, trouble!” Niall sang holding onto you, making sure you didn't slip.

“Only you would make a Taylor Swift reference.” You laughed pushing him, not realizing he was putting all his weight on a slab of ice.

“Oh, shi-” Niall started before he fell back onto the snow covered ground, taking you with him. It took a minute until the two of you laughed at each other. 

“Oh and you have the advantage over me, but you were the one to fall over a little ice.” You laughed at Niall who was covering his face with his hands, laughing like a mad man.

“You're the one who pushed me Petal!” Niall said leaning on his elbows, not realizing you were still in the same place, now a couple of inches away from each other. Blushing, you leaned away, not wanting to do something that you would regret. What happened next caught you off guard. 

Niall leaned up, closing the gap between the two of you, kissing you gently. It took a couple of seconds before Niall leaned away, his face scarlet.

“I’m sorry! I’ve been wanting to do that in a long time, but I wasn't sure you wanted it too. I’m so so-” Niall started, before you leaned back down kissing him before he could say anything else.

“Who said that I didn't want to kiss you back there Ni?” You smiled looking down at your best friend, your cheeks scarlet at both of your confessions. “I’ve liked you for so long, its become second nature to love you now.”

“Same here Petal.” Niall grinned before he sat up, you still in his lap. “So would you like to be my girlfriend?” You nodded at his question, gaining another kiss from Niall. “Good, cause I told mum that I was bringing my girlfriend over for Christmas.”

“Wait, you were taking me to Ireland for Christmas...”

“I was going to ask you tomorrow after we went to go eat, but the snow fall helped me gain some courage.” Niall confessed, stroking your hot cheek. You shook your head before you wrapped your arms around Niall’s neck, bringing him in for another kiss.

[sending-the-message]

It was the worst thing he ever saw. by ecrowe

When my old friend from school, Eric, phoned the house, I was more than shocked. To think he remembered the number. I'd changed my cellphone many times since I last spoke to him.

"Long time no see, Keener," he said to me.

"You still remember the nickname too," I replied, smiling down the handset.

"I never forget," he said, chuckling, "So, I'm going to be in town on the weekend, only for the Saturday, are you about?"

"Sure man, will be good to see you."

"And you. Is Darren and Gazz still around?"

"No, they went off to University and I kind of lost touch."

"You're good at that," he said referring to the fact I'd not spoken to him in a long time.

"Hey man, it's a two way street."

"Just joking, so see you at Charlie's for seven?"

"Yeah, it's one of the only places that's still here. When the world ends, the last thing to go out will probably be that sign."

We both laughed.

"Look forward to seeing you."

And that was it. A quick conversation, as if we had never spent a day apart, never mind four years.

It’s amazing how much your home-town changes over time. When you live there, the changes are small and infrequent, it's like it never changed at all. Yet to Eric, it was going to look so different. The library on the crossroads was now a pile of rubble. The police station was now next door, its original location on the edge of town. And the traffic lights, they were never there before. But now they sparkled and phased like all-season Christmas lights.

I arrived outside Charlie's. The neon sign defied the years and continued to light the night sky. It flickered and buzzed, advertising itself to patrons, nudging them to enter. Knowing that inside it was going to be warm, and there would be beer on tap.

Stale smoke greeted me as I opened the door. The old fashioned jukebox did its best to pump out the country music it had been forced to play; like an old man reciting a song he’d long forgotten. And there he was, sitting on a stool in front of the bar.

“Hey, Eric, can we call you Doctor yet?”

He blushed, “Not yet Mike, there’s a couple more years before that.”

“Good to see you man,” he said slapping me on my shoulder.

He reeked of alcohol.

“Likewise. How long have you been drinking? Your breath smells like neat vodka!”

“I got in a little early, and there's no time like the present.”

I stared at him, worried I’d offended my old friend. For what seemed like minutes we stared into each other’s eyes until Eric relented, a smile burst out on his face.

“I’m fucking with you! Just because I went to Medical School, doesn’t mean I don’t have a sense of humour.”

Relieved, I smiled back.

“Shall we get a table?” I asked.

“All in good time, let me get you a drink, what you having?”

“A beer?”

“Good, at least your taste hasn’t changed. Hey Mike, you remember when Darren drank all your old man’s Miller Light? We found him in a pool of his own vomit in the basement.”

“You know my dad still mentions that when we go down there. The outline of the vomit is still etched into the concrete,” I said laughing.

It was like he never left.

I picked up my beer and we made our way over to a table.

“So, how did University treat you?” I asked.

“Yeah, good, good. Hard work, but worth it.”

“Why didn’t you come back sooner?”

“Uh,” he stuttered.

“It’s okay, you didn’t want to mix with us country-folk, no-one thinks anything less of you,” I responded.

“Oh come on man, it’s not like that.”

“I'm kidding, you’re so uptight.”

“Sorry, I do feel bad about that. You know how it is, in term time I couldn’t and in the holidays, I was working.”

“Where did you work?”

Eric took a large gulp of beer before admitting it, “I’ve been working in the University morgue, you know, helping out.”

“Holy shit, seriously?”

“Yeah, it paid pretty well.”

“What did you do?”

“I had to wash the dead bodies to prepare them for their funerals.”

“Fuck, you couldn’t pay me enough to do that shit. How much did you get?”

“$50 an hour.”

“$50 an hour? Scratch that, I could do it for that much money,” I declared.

“It’s not as easy as you’d think.”

“What? Take a sponge, wipe down some old man and take home the mega bucks?”

“That part is easy. It’s when the body is not in pristine condition that you really start earning your money.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, gunshot victims are harder to clean. You have to be careful that you don’t unsettle the body.”

“Unsettle?”

“Yeah, if someone was shot in the face, then you have to be very careful you don't disturb their head too much. The mortuary technicians do their best to reconstruct it. It’s not like they are going to put metal plates in.

“Similarly, if someone dies in a car crash, the bones are not going to heal. Keeping their remains looking as human as possible is quite hard work. And when you get a moaner... That will scare the shit out of you.”

“A moaner?” I asked, taking another sip of my drink.

“Imagine, you're working late. It’s been a bad day; sometimes I’d have six bodies to clean. They're all laying on their respective metal slabs. You try to be as respectful as possible. But each corpse has the same Y-shaped incision from their autopsy. Some are worse due to how much the body has been abused due to forensic tests. You do get desensitised, though you're usually working alone, and once in a blue-moon you’ll hear a groan.

“You look around to see if anyone is there with you. But you're alone, the only company being the dead. The moan gets louder before you see one of the bodies sit up. You drop whatever is in your hands and you run the fuck out!”

“Fuck man! Were they alive?”

Eric scoffs, “No. When you reach the top of the stairs and see a caretaker waxing the floor, the fluorescent light of the hospital wakes you up. You walk back down the stairs, a little embarrassed, and return to the mortuary. "You see the body that now lays on the floor having fallen off its metal slab. You berate yourself for allowing it to freak you out so much. "The most embarrassing thing is, you then need to phone for help to get that cadaver back in its place!

"I tried to move one on my own once and I must have ruptured the stitching, as the intestines poured out over the floor like snakes.”

“So what causes that?”

“Gas build up. It happens, more often than you’d think. The smell it leaves behind is horrific. I go through Vicks Vapour Rub like it's malt liquor.”

���I take that back; $50 an hour ain’t enough!” I said sheepishly, “I think we need more drink.”

I signalled to the waitress, who came over and took our orders.

"It's my round," I said, handing my wallet to Eric. He took out a twenty, "Get yourself something nice, pretty," he said to the waitress, before slapping her on her ass. She giggled. I didn't know if she was being polite or into it. “Jesus, man, have you got any more stories?” I asked, intrigued.

“Yeah, this has happened a couple of times but the first time was fucking scary. When you are washing the bodies, you wear gloves and you sponge it down. You have to lift the arms and make sure you cover all of it. Every now and again, the cadaver’s hand will grip yours as rigour mortis sets in. It never get any easier, every time you double-take. You stare at the body, looking for any sort of movement, and when you don't, you pry the fingers off one at a time. "Sometimes you hear a snap as the pressure gets too much. The newbies always freak out and you can’t help but laugh. You have to find humour in that job, you know what I mean?”

“Fucking shit man,” I said, “You leave for a couple of years and comes back a morbid motherfucker!

“So, do you smell like formaldehyde all the time and shit?”

“Well, it does mean showers take longer and I have to clean my nostrils thoroughly. If I don’t, the smell of death lingers for days.”

“That’s rank man. Why do you do it?”

He rubbed his fingers, miming money, “$50 an hour my friend.”

I finished off my first drink and started on the new one.

“So, what you two been up to?” Eric asked.

“Nothing much, same old - same old, working construction."

“What’s that like?”

“Not a patch on what you’ve been up to. I get to be outside a lot. It’s not too bad to be fair. Could be a lot worse, we could be washing some old guy’s balls. But that’s more your speed.”

He smiled. I was happy to be with my friend I had spent so much of my life with. It’s amazing how when you have true friends, you can fall back into your old groove. It was with that thought I felt a touch of guilt.

“I’m so sorry I didn't stay in touch," I said.

"Looks like the beer has gone straight to your head."

"It's not that, but I should have."

"Hey, I didn't too. But we're here now. So just enjoy it."

"So what's the worst thing that's happened."

"What, in my job?" Eric asked, confused.

"Anything, creep me the fuck out."

He cocked his head and gazed into the distance. A smile played on the corners of his mouth, his eyes flicked side to side, as if remembering something. He took his drink in one hand and lifted it to his mouth.

"If I tell you this, you promise never to tell anyone else? And I mean seriously."

"Well I don't know what it is, yet."

He put the beer down.

Somber now and his voice hushed, "I can trust you, can't I Mike?"

"Sure," I said, leaning over, intrigued.

"I do know where you live remember."

I sat back up.

"That's a little sinister."

He laughed, "I'm not joking, not a soul."

"Promise."

He sighed, as if getting up the courage to relay this story. His eyes blanked over again and he started.

"It was summer, I was sixteen. You were off visiting family. I remember how I was alone a lot, so my dad took me to work at the station. As you know, he was a cop. I'd been to work with him before. But when I was younger, he'd stick me with the secretary, and then pick me up when he went home in the evening. But that day was different.

He told me I was a young man now, that if I wanted, I could come with him. He was arranging a search party for a missing girl from our school."

"Oh shit, I remember that," I said.

Eric was irritated at my interruption, "Do you want me to tell you the story or not?"

"Sorry, man. Carry on."

"We drove in silence for a couple of blocks, before turning off road and into Mayberry Forest. As we approached the gravel carpark, I could see lots of cars parked up. I recognised some of the people, family members and neighbours. My dad was happy, he said it was a great turn out. The more people the better. That every minute counted when trying to find someone alive.

"We got out of the car and he began gathering everyone together. He gave them instructions. They were to split up into teams and walk in straight lines through the forest. To cover as large an area as possible.

"I stood in the crowd of people, fascinated by how everyone listened and obeyed my father. Someone handed out whistles. My dad explained to use them when they find something of interest. By the time he'd finished, everyone was already spreading out and going about their jobs. Being a teenager, I lagged behind, kicking rocks, my hands shoved into my pockets. After around fifteen minutes, boredom kicked in.

"I didn't notice how far I had wondered away from the group. I shouted and heard nothing. I began to get nervous. I'd been in these woods many times before, but now I was on my own. In every direction there were trees, disorientation came on fast and before I knew it, I had no idea where I'd come from.

"I quickened my pace, first in one direction, then stopping and going in another. I remember feeling sick as my heart thumped in my chest and I ran. I ducked under branches and jumped over roots. Before I knew it, I was flat of my face. I had no idea what happened. I looked up and the trees spun as I did my best to get my bearings. Little white lights danced in my vision.

"When I turned to get up I froze. There, staring back at me from the undergrowth was a face. A pale white face, it almost looked like a ghost. I shuffled back in a panic and got to my feet. Standing I could see all of her. Leaves covered most of her naked body and she laid there motionless.

"I wanted to scream out, to say I'd found her. But I couldn't. All I could do was stare. Her eyes glinted in the late summer sun, as if there was still light behind them. I'd not seen a body before, it was incredible. She appeared so peaceful. I remember smiling then, thinking how death wasn't that bad. Especially if you could look that good in it.

"I broke my gaze when I heard a whistle echo through the forest. I don't know how long it was before someone found me and I don't know what I did for that time. They said it's time to go, that they found her."

"Shit. That's intense."

Eric didn't say a word, he downed his drink.

"Another?" I asked, shaking the empty glass in front of him.

He nodded. I beckoned over the waitress again and decided to orders some shots to go with our beers.

"I can't believe you never told me that story before."

"I've not finished," he said in a tone that implied the fun had been drained from the conversation.

"When we arrived home my dad told my mom how well I'd done. Later that evening, we sat around the TV to watch the local news. My dad beamed, seeing his past self interviewed. A photo of the missing girl took up most of the screen and a feeling of dread chilled me. It was the colour of her skin - a pale brown. I didn't understand how the skin would lose colour in death, and it shocked me.

"My dad told me again what a great job I'd done. He told me I looked pale and asked if I was okay. I nodded and tried to forget the image of the porcelain white body I had seen earlier that day."

"So, was it her you saw?" I asked.

"Two days later, dad came home in a mood, he muttered something about negligence and suspension to my mom. I saw it on the news later, a second body. She had crawled through the forest naked and collapsed on the edge of the trail. A park ranger found her, but she had died before the ambulance arrived. It was her, the pale white girl I'd seen in the forest days before. She was alive and I could have got her help. But I didn't, I was too scared."

"You didn't know."

"I've not told anyone that before. That's a weight off my shoulders. Thank you. That does feel good."

"Do you think that's why you got into Medicine?"

"You know what, I never thought of it like that," he said, nodding his head. "Hey, tell me, do you know the Waitress's name?"

"No, the turn over here is quite high. Not seen her before tonight."

"I'll order some more beers, see if I can get her number."

"I need a piss. I'll pass on this round," I said getting up from my seat.

I stumbled a bit, the alcohol and the revelation I'd heard keeping me off balance. I stood in front of the urinal and thought about my friend. How he had carried that with him for all those years. It made me realise how little I knew about him. But the fact he told me it, made me feel closer than ever to him.

I returned to our table, to empty seats. A small scrap of paper lay under my beer. I picked it up, the wet ring from the glass smudged the writing on the written note.

Mike, the waitress was game. Sorry to leave you hanging. Remember, I know where you live ;)

There was a twenty dollar bill on the table. I sunk down into my seat and finished my beer. I didn't know him that well after all. I paid our bill at the bar and sat on a stool, finishing my drink.

A few hours later, I walked the short journey home. My parents were already asleep. I took a beer out of the fridge and promised myself it would be the last one. I slunk down into the couch and turned on the TV. I fell asleep to some late night infomercial selling the benefits of an all in one gym device.

I roused early in the morning. The bright screen of the TV hurt my eyes and I squinted. I dragged myself into the kitchen and took a bottle of OJ out of the fridge. I downed as much as I could, gasping for air as I finished. The answerphone flashed. In a zombie-like state I shuffled over and clicked the button.

Hey Mike, thanks for last night. Sorry I had to leave in a rush. Yeah, shit, I still have your wallet. I'll mail it back to you or something, don't worry, I know where you live. Great catching up.

I slapped my hands to my pockets. Fuck, it was missing. I returned to the living room and searched the couch for my wallet. I reached down into a gap between the cushions when I heard the police bulletin on the TV.

In the early hours of this morning, the body of Daniela Smith...

I turned to watch. A photo appeared on screen. I recognised her but didn't know from where.

Employee of Charlie's bar and grill, remains found off I58. Police are seeking this man, whose driving licence was found on the body.

I felt faint and fell to the floor. It was me. A blown up image from my driver's licence took up the screen. I know it's only a matter of time before they come here. And I know it will be Eric's dad that knocks on my door. I phoned the University today, they've not heard of Eric. They put me in touch with the Morgue. The person I spoke to recognised my description. They said he was sacked after inappropriate conduct with the corpses years ago. I asked for more information, my request was declined.

So now I wait. It's evening in a small town. The police will be here soon and they won't believe me.

[officialjkhogan]

STRAY: Chapter Eight

STRAY: Chapter Eight

by J.K. Hogan

Noah’s stomach cramped with hunger as he tapped the glass touchpad that controlled the holographic display. He was using the library’s public data-deck to take a practice test for his level twos. If he got the grades he thought he would, he might be able to escape his almost certain future of working in a factory or a plant, and instead become an engineer. Level two proficiencies were the highest level of education for everyday citizens—doctors, for instance, went on to level threes. Noah knew from his history lessons that back in the days of brick-and-mortar schools, level twos were referred to as “university.”

He sipped bitter coffee that someone had left sitting on the machine, obviously having forgotten about it while it was being filled. Gods, he was hungry. He hadn’t made many sales at the Bazaar last Tuesday, and a couple of his regular customers had stopped coming around, so he had literally five dollars to his name at the moment. He just had to manage not to starve to death before he took the tests, then he could get a decent job and find an actual place to live and, like, food and stuff.

At least he had a current roof over his head, as undesirable as it was. And crashing with Cousin Tom was definitely undesirable. Being a dealer meant that Tom had a revolving door for customers at any time of the day or night, and they were always eyeballing Noah real creepy-like. Sometimes even Tom did. Noah had gotten used to living with the hunted feeling, that need to constantly be on his guard and look over his shoulder. He always felt like there was someone just around the corner, waiting to grab him—be it Tom’s addict friends, stalkers on the street like that one time years ago when the blond guy saved him, or even goons from his parents’ church-cult, deciding they were going to force him to join after all. He’d never, ever felt at ease. Well, only once. With that guy. Whose name, irritatingly, he couldn’t ever seem to remember.

Noah had been avoiding going back to Tom’s, because the way the man looked at him had been making him increasingly uncomfortable. Sure, they were family—at least, he thought they were. He’d only met Tom after his parents had dumped him. They ran in the same circles, and Tom approached him one day, saying that he was the son of Emmy Cowan’s estranged brother. Noah had been so desperate for any kind of connection to another human being that he hadn’t questioned it. Still, occasionally Tom’s stare became sort of possessive, and even…predatory. Sometimes.

Noah scored nearly perfect on the practice test before his hunger started making him lightheaded. He had two more days until the Bazaar opened again, but he’d starve before then. He had no other choice but to back home—not that it was his home—and find someone to blow for a twenty. There were always some tweaked-out druggie closet-cases around to hit up. They consumed more when they got off, so it was lucrative for both Noah and Tim. As much as he hated doing it, Noah refused to let himself feel ashamed. It was survival, pure and simple.

As he walked home later, Noah passed by Sanctuary just like he did every time he went to the library. And each time, he remembered the masked man who suggested there might be a job for Noah inside. Hell, the guy probably just wanted Noah to come in because he thought he was pretty. It had been a nice fantasy, but Noah didn’t believe a word of it. It was rare for businesses to have enough capital to employ an in-house engineer to keep their tech up and running. Still, every time Noah walked by, he wondered if he’d given up before he even tried.

Tom lived in a ramshackle house on the edge of a former residential district that hadn’t survived the last purge. No one had bothered to claim the land and redevelop, so people like Tom and his ilk had colonized it, squatting in buildings in various stages of disrepair. The front door rocked on its hinges as Noah swung it open to reveal stained tan carpeting and puke green walls that were peeling enough to expose the sheetrock beneath the paint. The sickly sweet smell of ganja was a physical cloud in the hallway, so Noah followed it into the dark den with its blackout curtains and psychedelic tapestries.

Tom lounged on the threadbare couch with two men who were obviously sampling the wares, and a woman was asleep—or unconscious—in the recliner that hadn’t reclined since they’d found it on the side of the road. Tom looked over and gave him an oily grin.

“Eyy, Noah, my dude! Have you been at the fuckin’ library this whole time?”

With a sigh, Noah half sat, half fell into the only empty chair left. “Yep. Killed my practice test though. I’ll be ready for my level twos. I only came home because…I got hungry.”

Tom took a sip of his lager and eyed Noah for a moment, before jerking his chin at the guy to his left. “I’m sure Adam here can help you out.”

Noah’s stomach rebelled, and he had to swallow down the urge to vomit air—because that’s all he had in his stomach—but a guy had to eat. At least Adam was somewhat attractive, built like a tank, with a razor-sharp jawline and a crooked nose, but he also looked like he could get mean with very little provocation.

“My cuz here needs some work to make a little extra cash,” Tom said to Adam. Some kind of silent communication must have happened to inform Adam just exactly what kind of work Tom meant, because Adam gave Noah a long onceover and licked his lips.

Fuck. The guy was definitely down for it, and Noah should be happy because he would get to eat but, fuck. Noah stood up and headed for the door, looking over his shoulder and raising a brow until Adam got the picture and followed him. As he climbed the stairs, with Adam’s fingers brushing the top of his ass, Noah hated himself just a little bit more.

****

Tonight I am a creature. A man but not a man. Who dreams of nothing but murder.

****

Tuesday, the Bazaar was swamped. Noah sold half the inventory he’d brought from the crypt, and he should have been flying high on the accomplishment, his full belly, and the wad of cash in his pocket, but he was just…numb. All he could think of was the feeling of Adam’s beefy hands on his skull, pulling his hair, and Noah wondered why he did it.

He had no one. No family, not really, no real friends, only people who seemed to want to use him, so why the hell did he fight so hard not to starve. Why didn’t he save himself the trouble, and his jaw the strain, and just go fall off a bridge somewhere.

Shaking his head, he stuffed his remaining tech into his duffel. How fucking melodramatic. He’d never been suicidal…not really. Honestly, he’d always felt like there was something just offstage, waiting in the wings, something that he was meant to do but couldn’t quite see the full picture yet. Some days it was the only thing that kept him from knotting sheets together.

He piled up his boxes and crates behind an old food stand from the bygone days of the amusement park and hoped no one would steal them before next Tuesday. The back of his neck prickled as he bent to pick up his duffel, so he spun around and scanned the almost empty Bazaar. There was no one near. No one, except for a big white cat.

This time, the coincidence of seeing the cat again made Noah’s hair stand on end. He was half convinced he’d been hallucinating the creature this whole time. His fingers clenched on the leather strap of his bag, but he tried to act like he wasn’t afraid he was losing his mind.

“Hey, there, um…cat. I don’t know how you keep finding me. In fact, I’m ninety-five percent sure I’m seeing things. I’m surprised you haven’t gone home by now. Hell, I’m surprised you’re still alive.” Noah scrubbed his hands over his face, then shook his head. “I’m surprised I’m still talking to a gods-be-damned cat.”

The creature meowed, then slinked over and wove its way between and around Noah’s legs, leaving long white hairs all over his jeans. He brushed off the denim-myolene blend and glared at the cat. “Yeah, thanks for that.”

The cat purred and let out another plaintive moan.

“Ugh… I know that look too well. You’re hungry, yeah? All right, then, follow me. Today, we eat like princes.”

Eating like princes for Noah meant one of the mobile kitchens that frequented the park. He ordered some falafel, with curry chicken and rice, and hauled it all over to a picnic table. He sat down on the table part, while bracing his feet on the bench. Inexplicably, the cat followed him like it thought it was people. With a sigh, Noah spread out a napkin and spooned some chicken onto it for the cat, who eagerly wolfed it down, snarling a little as it chewed.

“Easy, killer,” he said with a laugh. “Don’t choke. Damn, you must’ve been starving. Been there, pal. Hey, at least you found a generous benefactor to keep you in curry, and you didn’t even have to blow anybody to get money.”

As if it understood, the cat froze. It stopped eating and stared at him, blinking slowly. It sat back on its haunches, ignoring the food, and waited, as if it expected him to continue. Embarrassed about talking to a cat, Noah gave an agitated wave of his hand.

“It’s nothing. When you’re homeless, you do what you need to do to get by. Every day I see people who are way worse off than me, so I try not to complain.”

The cat padded closer, curling up and pressing against the side of Noah’s thigh, purring. Noah stroked its back, running his fingers through the soft fur, and felt the knobby bumps of its spine as it arched up to chase his touch. Looking down at the cat, Noah noticed something he’d never seen before—a flash of black on the inside of its ear.

“Hey, what’s this?” he asked, as if the cat was going to answer him. He swiped a finger along the pink, paper-thin skin of the cat’s inner ear. It was ink. A tattoo. He knew that animals were often tattooed with ID numbers by shelters, or even their owners, but this marking was unusual. It was a glyph of a small, five-pointed crown. Beneath it, letters spelled out a word he didn’t recognize. “I wonder what this means. Basti.”

When he said it, the cat whipped his head around to stare up at him, and it let a garbled little growl. It sounded so disgruntled that Noah had to laugh. Obviously at some point, someone had cared about this cat enough to mark it, but he’d seen it on the streets too many times for it to be anything other than a stray.

“Is that your name, then? Basti? It’s cute.”

The cat narrowed its eyes, exhaled sharply through its nose, then mewed and went back to the curry chicken. That, apparently, was that.

While Basti inhaled his food, Noah ate at a more sedate pace, savoring the feeling of, for once, not being hungry. He looked at the cat, who in turn watched him. It was lithe and willowy, but not skinny. Its bones didn’t protrude past its thick coat, so it had to be fed with some regularity.

“I wonder where you normally get your food,” Noah said before he could quell the impulse. He sighed, setting down his now-empty food carton. “I know I must seem like some freaky stranger who speaks to you as if you were human, in a language you couldn’t possibly understand but…I don’t have many people—or animals, I guess—in my life, so I just can’t help myself. You’re safe.” Noah didn’t know if he meant that the cat was safe for him to talk to, or that the cat was safe with him. Maybe both.

“I have to go home. It will be dark soon.” The last place he wanted to be was Tom’s, but it wasn’t safe on the streets at night. “You should go on back to wherever you normally sleep and eat. Trust me, where I’m going isn’t anywhere you want to be.”

Noah tossed their trash into a nearby agri-dump receptacle, and set off west, toward Tom’s. The cat jumped down from the picnic table and followed. Noah sighed heavily, because with his work done and his belly finally full, all he wanted to do was lie down on his lumpy mattress and sleep for a week.

“Shoo! Get out of here! Trust me, you don’t want to go where I’m going.”

Basti grumbled and sat back on his haunches. As Noah continued through the rapidly darkening park, he pretended he didn’t know the precocious feline was still following him.