#imagine my surprise when i opened up my phone and tumblr showed me over 20 notifs even though i usually get only a few of them

[blake-the-shadow]

seeing that someone went through so much of my stuff here and liked and reblogged so much (while even leaving commentary in the tags) made my day a little better <3

[alcoris-shiz]

The Big Boss Of Hell Himself

Chapter 1: Remember Me

Description: You died, well at least that’s what Lucifer had witnessed right? You were killed in his meeting with Heaven all those years ago when Charlie was just little. Lilith and he had split up when Charlie was only years old, then you came into his life. He was courting you at the time, Charlie adored you, you adored him and as you tried to help redeem demons, they shot at you saying an incantation that Lucifer didn’t even know. Then suddenly out of the blue, he gets a call from Charlie that there is someone at the hotel for him. She remembers you, but you can’t remember anything except a white light and waking up feeling lost.

Inspired by multi-fandom-imagine: And You’re In My Heart (Tumblr)

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Lucifer’s POV

I played- I mean placed my duck very particularly on a shelf. It looked just like them, so pretty. Next to my other ducks. This was probably only my 1,000th duck that looked like Y/N, but it was the most resemblant so far. I proudly had it sitting next to my duck which looked like Charlie and I. 

We were barely together, I know I had only been courting them, but either way, it hurt to think of them. They would’ve accepted a proposal, I know this. But why now? Why did they have to leave so soon? We were partners! They’d been there since the beginning. Lilith may have helped me start it, but Y/N was there for me to get the job done. When it seems everything fell apart. 

Their wings being ripped from their body flashed through my head and I winced at the memory. How they’re body were thrown into a portal lifelessly and they were gone. They died fighting for my dream and while I know it was also their dream. I know it was their dream because it was mine. They did so much for Charlie and me and yet they were the one who suffered. Now here Charlie was taking the same stance, almost as if they were related and not Lilith. Those two always had so much in common.

I felt my eyes tear up and had to look away from my most recent project when my phone began to ring. I flinched grabbed it hurriedly and answered. “Heyyy… you?” I said awkwardly, cursing myself for not rehearsing before answering.

“Hey, Dad! I have… someone here who I think you’d like to see!” I sighed as I waited for her to say who it was, but the line was quiet and awkward.

“May I ask who it is? I’m pretty busy,” I said awkwardly in reply.

“It’s a surprise, just be nice when you show up. They’re not really in the right headspace and I think that seeing you will help them a lot.” Charlie said happily. Well, who could it be? Happy to see me? Was Lilith back? I missed her, but I feel like that’s the last person I would want to see. But a chance to see Charlie? Alright! Good enough reason to show up!

“Well, are you asking me to come see you as well?!” I asked I felt excited at the idea of coming to see Charlie, but she just laughed. 

“Yeah Dad, you can come see me as well. But I promise, you’ll be more than happy to see them.” I sighed again at the idea of having to socialize. 

“Alright, alright… I’ll be there in 20!” 

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Around 20 minutes later I stood awkwardly in front of the hotel, should I even knock? I already said I was coming over… This is for Charlie!

I knocked on the door and it was quickly opened. “Heyyy bitch~,” I said and then paused awkwardly, my arms outstretched. I saw the spider thing in the back cover their mouth, clearly trying not to laugh. “Bad intro again? Hah, I’ll just work on that some more Sweetheart,” I chuckled rubbing the back of my neck.

I got a better look at Charlie and she had tear streaks down her face but was smiling. I felt myself immediately go into dad mode as I hugged her tightly. “Honey, why have you been crying? Did someone do something?~ 王’ĮĮ ƘíĮĮ ፐん巳ണ~” I snarled and she shook her head in my chest. I breathed a sigh as she pulled away. “No… it’s- just come see them,” she whispered and grabbed my hand, pulling me into the hotel.

She led me to our new beautiful dining room we had designed as she hurried inside.

That’s when I saw them…

My eyes swelled. This is an awful joke… they’re dead. I can’t be seeing this, there’s no way. They’re long past dead. “Y-Y/N?” I whispered looking at their face. They’re beautiful face where they sat looking so confused. “I- You’re Lucifer I guess?” I felt my chest swell hearing their voice once again. But why were they questioning this? I put on a little weight and aged a little, but I couldn’t look very different! They looked the same as the day they- 

“They seemed to have lost their memories. They said they just woke up in an alley and saw the hotel, assuming they could find help, they knocked. The last thing they remember is white and waking up, they don’t know any of us.” Charlie whispered.

“That’s okay, it’s so okay. My darling, we’ll help you. I’ll never leave you helpless again my dear,” I whispered slowly walking towards them. They looked up, eyes teary as well. She must be stressed, where did that emergency duck go that I had brought?!

I quickly pulled it out and presented it to them. It was a small classic rubber duck that just felt soft when you squished it. Charlie had said it may be a little more relieving for stress and it had become one of my new favorites. What a clever daughter I have!

They slowly reached up and touched it, looking at my eyes they grabbed it. That’s when I heard them giggle quietly. Oh, how I missed that laugh and their voice. “Thank you, I love ducks,” they giggled and softly squished it. That’s still my darling, that’s definitely them. 

“My dear, how are you feeling? Do you need to rest? I can help you! I make a great pillow if you need one! Or I mean I can also get you pillows I guess. I can be the blanket! Or just get a blanket.” they laughed again and smiled at me softly.

“No I’m okay, I feel like I’ve slept one hundred years, I don’t think I wanna sleep ever again.” they whispered.

I chuckled, right. “I’ll let you guys talk,” Charlie said and hugged me. “Thank you,” I whispered to her as she nodded and left the room. 

“I know you don’t know this and it sounds crazy probably, but I missed you. So much dearest.” I said softly to Y/N. They looked at me quizzically. “I don’t remember you, but I feel like I also missed you, somehow. That probably sounds crazier.” They said chuckling.

“No,” I said grabbing their hands softly, making sure they were okay with it. But they grabbed my hands as well and looked at me softly. “It’s perfectly okay and makes sense. You’ve been through a lot. I thought you had… were dead?” I felt my eyes fill with tears again and bit my lip, trying to keep my tears at bay.

“I died?” they asked softly looking shocked. I nodded. “Yeah, but I’m more than thankful you’re here.”

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Word Count: 1,279 A/N: So this is the first idea for a story I'm writing. I'm taking some of my favorite prompts for Lucifer that I've read and turning them into an actual story. If you guys have a specific prompt you wanna see, I'd love to see it. ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ~ Master List~ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

[goodgirlsfanficawards]

For Week 2 of Fic Back Friday we’ve got five fics from May 2020! Whether you’re rereading or it’s the first time, stop by and show these stories some love.

Like Icarus Who Flies to the Sun by kibasniper

03 May 2020, T, 1.1K, 1/1, 12 kudos

I know the look of suffering. I’ve seen it on every single face of my clients. They’re withered, pale, and have been through shit that I wouldn’t want happening to my daughter.

But they aren’t inscrutable. No, not at all. In fact, most of them are easily understood. A background check later, in which I poured hours into researching, and I know my client’s entire history, along with the path they’ve trekked with the one they want dead. They’re always intertwined, you see. After all, you can’t want somebody killed without a proper reason. They usually share a long-winded, complicated history filled with unspeakable torment and abuse, the finer details bloody and gruesome, and the client will finally reach out to me because they simply have nowhere left to turn, all options exhausted, that little fire of hope ready to burn out.

I don’t consider myself someone’s salvation, of course. That would be comparing me to an angel when I’m merely a professional. When I snuff out someone’s life, it’s clinical and precise, practised and executed all according to the client's will. I need their full permission to fire in order for there to not be any regrets. I don’t need their sorrow weighing me down when it’s time; it might affect my trigger finger.

Your soul is haunting me. by bethrio / @bethrio​

5 May 2020, E, 3K, 1/1 chapters, 103 kudos

I’ll take a dip.

She grips the bed sheet even harder, her whole body shaking as she gets closer to the edge.

Wanna join me?

Yes, Beth minds screams, yes! She lets go of the bed sheet and grabs one of her breasts as the other hand works the vibrator against her cunt. She imagines the way he looks at them, at her, and the image of them fucking in a hot tub.

She comes hard, shaking for too long afterwards, feels the ache that had built up for some time disappear.

Only, then the guilt comes in full speed. Beth hasn’t felt guilty about masturbating in over 20 years when she learnt it’s okay for women to do it, but she knows this isn’t what that is. She wishes it were that that she felt guilty about, would welcome back that guilt any day.

No, she knows it’s because of him. She shot him, stole from him, is still waiting for the hitman to kill him and yet he’s the only one who can– who’s in her thoughts– when she does this.

Cupcake by Melaniemia

28 May 2020, T, 1.6K, 196 kudos

“What happened, Elizabeth?” he breathed, pulled her hands so she was forced to walk around the counter to stand in front of him. He reached up and pushed a long red curl away from her eyes.

“I hate when you do that.” she muttered, closing her eyes briefly at the contact and further avoiding the question.

“Wont happen again.” he promised, stepping back from her and sitting in the chair she had occupied moments earlier.

“You hold a gun to my head, you threaten the lives of people I love, and then you turn around and make me think you might actually care about me.” the weight of the day was pressing down on her and the adrenaline was fading away, leaving her emotional and hurt.

“No rule that says you can't threaten to kill a woman and not still care a little about her.” Rio shrugged, a smirk gracing her features.

will we think about tomorrow like we think about now by fortunehasgivenup 

26 May 2020, T, 5.9K, 1/1 chapter, 243 kudos

Oh god, he’s making a show of it. This wasn’t part of the - okay, it was, but still! Beth imagines that she could fry an egg on her cheeks as Rio walks with her up the stairs slowly, saying hi to some people that he knows.

Finally, he lets her take a seat, but rather than taking the open spot next to her, he climbs up to the next level of seats and sits behind her, his feet on the bleachers on either side of her hips, and leans forward.

“You cold?” he asks, arm settling on her shoulder so that his hand is dangling down over her chest.

“I’m good,” Beth gets out.

Beth hadn’t given much thought to how…intimate this position would feel after a few minutes. She can feel it every time that Rio shifts as they chat about nothing.

She realizes when Tasha must come into view because Rio slides forward so she’s almost pressed against his groin. “Lean back,” he murmurs, so she does. Except she’s not sure what to do with her hands now. Like he can hear her thoughts, Rio reaches down and takes both of her hands in his.

Bad Moon Rising by jesbakescookies / @jesbakescookies

11 May 2020, M, 26K, 4/4 chapters, 355 kudos

Beth laid in bed, as her phone played what had become her death march. The flashes of Rio’s shocked expression as she pulled the trigger kept replaying. The piercing sound that followed still rang in her ear. Slowly Beth raised her hand to her temple, her fingers trembling as she searched the silky smooth skin for injury. There was no sign of the attempt she’d made on her own life.

Beth just couldn’t take it any longer. It seemed as though she would never escape the torture of reliving the worst day of her life. She’d tried everything. The utter despair of realizing that no matter what she did, she’d always wake up to see the same day was too much.

All of those thoughts and feelings bubbled up when Rio snapped at her, pushing her to kill the man bound at their feet.

Beth hadn’t even realize the gun was pressed against her temple until she looked up at Rio’s expression.

She almost couldn’t believe she’d done it, but she most definitely wasn’t surprised that she woke up to the same old song. Her heart felt both heavy and vacant. A cold numbness snuffing out everything inside her like water over flame.

If you know of anyone’s tumblr/twitter and we haven’t found it or tagged incorrectly, please send us an ask to let us know.

[speedyandharu]

Sho supporting Ohno’s art exhibition through the years

Frist of all none of the following translations belong to me, I found them on this blog  https://denise-dinc.livejournal.com/372888.html. I will just copy some of them to have them here on my tumblr. I just like to witness such kind of mutual support between them. I can see why Ohno stayed with Arashi for 20 years before finding the right time to talk about the hiatus. These guys have always supported each others. 

I°: AAA Concert pamphlet 06’

Sho:” When we were filming our movie, Ohno-kun showed me his works. I was surprised… they were so good. Recently he’s been reading books, they’re all art-related, this guy… he’s really an artist. Ohno-kun has been saying that he wants to have an art exhibition, I hope he gets to do it soon. I want more people to see what he’s got.”

II°: Orista 2008.02.25

“Is it true that Sakurai suggested to the jimusho (= office) for you to have this exhibition?”

Ohno: “Apparently so. I didn’t even know. Sho-kun has been very interested in my works since long before, taking photos of what I made and making them his phone wallpaper, things like that. So I was really happy when I heard. During that time, Sho-kun was practically the only person who saw my works.”

III°: TV Pia April 08’

Matsujun: “On the first day of Leader’s exhibition, we were supposed to send flowers but there’s been a problem, Sho-kun immediately ordered 4 new sets on our behalf and sent them there. Just like our mom.”

IV°:  Wink Up January 09’

Sho: “This… well didn’t we say that the 4 of us would send flowers for the opening of Freestyle so it would look interesting? But, in the morning, when I entered the venue, the flowers which were supposed to be there were missing. So I texted everyone, “the flowers aren’t here”, “this isn’t fun at all, shall I order new ones?” Matsujun: Then it was “I’ve ordered them”, “we won’t make it in time if I don’t order now, so I just went ahead and ordered” like that. Sho: I was annoyed about flowers (laugh) Aiba: I can’t imagine this. Sakurai-kun who got annoyed over flowers (laugh) Nino: But thanks to Sho-san! The flowers from the 4 of us got there in time!

[gleekto]

Summary: College AU/Famous!Blaine and Fanboy!Kurt - Kurt POV

Kurt really doesn’t have time to figure out the dating world between being a freshman at prestigious theatre school, LAADA,  and his active but secret blogging life in the Sing!Fandom. So what if Sing! ended last year? There are still fics to read and actors to follow. Especially the uber talented heartthrob lead, Blaine Anderson. He can act. He can sing. He can even dance. He’s gay. He’s out. And he’s only 24. Kurt is willing to twiddle his thumbs and click refresh until Blaine Anderson’s next project.

He just didn’t expect the next project to be on his roommate Rachel’s new TV show.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Even Better than the Real Thing (9/13)

Blaine: Had a great time last night. Clearly your talents don’t stop at singing and theatre knowledge.

The text buzzes in, interrupting Kurt on the phone with Mercedes, letting her know exactly why he had a very bad sleep last night. 

“You’re telling me you hooked up with Blaine Anderson?” Mercedes almost yells.

“Shhhh. And yes. Apparently.”

“I cannot believe this.” Kurt can picture her shaking her head in shock.

“You’re the one who kept telling me that it was a date.”

“Of course it was,” Mercedes dismisses. “But now shit is real.”

“Tell me about it.” Kurt looks down at the text and does a double take, quickly deciding he won’t share its contents. At least for now. But he types back quickly.

Kurt:  I am also a very good cook. And you don’t need to indulge me, Blaine. I don’t pretend to know what I’m doing. Anything to the contrary is beginner’s luck.

“Tell me about it,” He says again to Mercedes. “And god, I am so glad I stopped blogging. With all those thirsty posts about his - I don’t know - his butt or worse, his-” Kurt pauses realizing both that he did once comment on Roy Royson’s sweatpants and how they outlined Blaine just so,  and that he no longer needs any imagination because he’s seen “it”. Blaine’s dick. He lets himself remember for a second. God. 

“I believe you once called it Blaine Anderson’s “twinkle tube” in just such a thirsty post?”

“Please don’t remind me.”

Blaine: You have a point. You do need to practice. 

How has this become his life - Blaine Anderson sending him suggestive texts that they really should be doing more of what they were doing last night. His life is a fanfiction panned for being too good to be true.

Kurt: Harsh. But okay, if we must.

...

Rachel and Blaine were shooting on location for most of the week, with long days turning into nights, so Kurt is surprised when Blaine walks into his apartment with Rachel on Thursday evening.

“Blaine asked if he could come over so we could run lines,” Rachel says looking at Kurt pointedly. Kurt knows she suspects that something is going on after he got home so late on Saturday night, but he managed to keep her sniffing at bay by nonchalantly mentioning that they went for a drink after and what a great play it was. He’s not sure what Blaine wants her to know and definitely isn’t sure himself what exactly is going on. 

“Great,” Kurt shrugs trying to look as bored as possible. Blaine tries to hide his smile before he is gently dragged to Rachel’s room and she shuts the door. All business that woman. 

But  Blaine peeks his head out of the door quickly. “I’ll come by before I leave, okay?”

Yup. No big. See you then. As if he’s going to get anything done on his music history assignment while he waits. The music assignment tab is open so that counts at least. And he can pretend he’s working while perusing tumblr to distract himself.  Weird to be staring at gifs of the very butt that he was squeezing on Saturday night. Scroll past, scroll past.

“Hey.” Blaine pokes his head in Kurt’s door only 20 minutes later. 

“Hey! I wasn’t expecting you so quickly.” Kurt shoves his computer to the side and stands up as Blaine closes the door.

“A little less run lines. A little more hang with you.”

“Is that a new Ariana Grande song?” Kurt says as Blaine steps into his space. Kurt tentatively places his hands on Blaine’s waist and waits.

“A little less conversation and a little more touch my-” Blaine sings into his ear.

“Scandalous.” Then Blaine is kissing him again. He’s been thinking about this every day, maybe all day, replaying Saturday night in his head and trying to remember what it felt like. Muscle memory now. Blaine reaches down and pulls his body flush against him, grabbing his ass. Kurt moans.

“I’m trying to be but I don’t think we have enough time.”

“Kurt! Kurt!” Rachel yells from behind the door. “Come here for a second.”

Kurt steps back and sighs. “Unfortunately. But yes.”

“Rain check until this weekend, okay?”

“Kurt!”

“Just a second.” Kurt turns to Blaine, apologetic. “What is it, Rachel?” Kurt walks into the main room where Rachel is rummaging through the fridge.

“Do you know where my oat milk is? Did you finish it because you know I can’t have dairy.”

“Rachel, I think you finished it. This morning, remember?” Kurt turns on his heel back into his room where he can at least say a proper goodnight to Blaine.

“Okay, I’ll text you,” Blaine says and quickly pecks him on the mouth. Then he’s gone. At least until the weekend.

When Blaine doesn’t reply to his goodnight text like he had for the rest of the week, Kurt just figures he’d gone to bed. But when there is no response in the morning, Kurt texts again.

Kurt: Great to see you last night. Hope you had a good sleep.

Blaine doesn’t respond that afternoon. It’s not until Kurt is actually working on his music history assignment later that evening that his phone buzzes.

Blaine: I didn’t really...LimaBlaineFan.

[meandnotyou1001]

I keep reading Irondad fanfics (because it's almost life) and so many of them are centered around Peter and his emotional problems, which is all well and good, but it gave me an idea. Here is my first ever one-shot to be posted on Tumblr. (I have others on Fanfiction.net.)

Ask For Help

An Irondad fic. Part 1.

Summary:

Someone needs help and it's not who we're expecting. How are Karen and Friday going to get them the help they need when it's impossible to ignore certain protocols?

Warning: Attempted Suicide. Not a lot of suicidal thoughts, because it’s from someone else’s point of view. If this is going to trigger you, please don’t read. I’d rather you be safe, than have one more reader. Everyone please take care of yourselves and call for help if you need it.

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

Peter didn’t notice it happening. He’d never seen it happen before. Hell, he didn’t even think it could happen, but with hindsight (being 20/20 and all) he kicked himself for how stupid that thought was. Mr. Stark was human, of course he had problems like that. But, all in all, Peter was just a little busy. It was finals week. He was doing EOC’s, AP exams, and finals. It was so hectic and stressful he’d even cut his Spiderman hours by nearly two-thirds.

Peter didn’t think much of it when Mr. Stark had texted, repeatedly throughout the last month of school, asking if he’d be by the Tower that day and he answered that he couldn’t, he was busy.

He didn’t think much of it when Mr. Stark called and told him Pepper was going on a business trip to Shanghai and they should get together for a guys’ night. He couldn’t, he was busy.

He didn’t think much of it when Mr. Stark said the Exvengers (or Rogues, Peter prefered that name) had settled back in the Compound to mooch off of him and use him as their punching bag once more. He was sorry, Mr. Stark, he would love to hang out and meet the Avengers, but he was busy.

So, Peter wasn’t really concerned about anything but his stupid AP Litertature exam one Thrusday night when he sat down at his desk to study. He was ten minutes in, when his phone dinged an alert. Looking up, Peter saw a police report about a mugging gone wrong, ending with two injured and one dead. The teen frowned, but reluctantly put his phone down. Aunt May had been very clear about him Spidermanning during finals month.

Ten minutes later, on the dot, Peter’s phone dinged again. Looking up, Peter saw another police report. A jewelry store robbery with nearly four million dollars in jewels stolen. Peter frowned again. Mr. Stark said education came first, before Spiderman. He put the phone down.

Ten minutes. A report on a drug bust that ended in a shoot-off with six dead. Peter stared at the report. “Karen?”

“Yes, Peter?” his AI answered from his phone.

“You know I’m supposed to be studying for my AP final right?”

“Of course, Peter. Stay in School Protocol states you are not to go out as Spiderman, when you are studying for an exam.”

Karen’s response seemed innocent, but why on earth was she sending Peter police reports. She knew how much it irritated him, not being able to help, but unable to disobey Aunt May and Mr. Stark for fear of the consequences.

“You are studying very hard, Peter, perhaps you should reward yourself.” His AI’s voice was kind.

Peter hummed lightly, feeling just a little, like he was being played, but staring at the police report, he found he didn’t care. “This is giving me a headache anyway, maybe an hour or two will give my brain a break.”

Pulling on the suit, he was surprised when Karen automatically stated, “Peter, you are supposed to be studying for your AP exam, I will have to inform Mr. Stark that you are going out.”

“What?” Peter demanded. “You’re the one you said I should go out.”

“I would not do that, Peter,” Karen countered, “as it goes against my Stay in School Protocol.”

Peter blinked. “Screw my homework giving me a headache, all your mixed messages are giving me a headache. Fine, tell Mr. Stark, but while you’re at it, tell him it’s  just for a little while and cause I need a break.”

“Message sent.”

Peter sighed, shaking his head at his AI. “You’re as confusing as any human girl, Karen, but I still love you.”

“Thank you, Peter. I love you as well.”

Peter didn’t respond as he climbed out the window and started his patrol.

It was nearly ten o’clock in the evening, just as he was turning to go home, hoping for a full night of rest and at least part of a chance to actually pass said exam, when Karen sent him an alert.

“Peter,” his AI addressed him, “Friday says there seems to be a problem at the Tower.”

“What?” Peter was suddenly on high alert and the AP exam far from his mind. “Is Mr. Stark there?!” Peter didn’t wait for an answer as he quickly began to throw himself from building to building, as quickly as he could.

“Friday states she is unable to give Spiderman Mr. Stark’s status, as it is against the Boss’s direct orders.” Karen told him.

Peter faltered just for a second. “That isn’t what I asked.”

It wasn’t a question, but Karen answered, “I know, Spiderman.”

Peter’s mind shot to their weird conversation just before he’d gone on patrol and something in his stomach sank. What was going on with his AI, and now Friday to. He pushed himself harder to get across New York City faster. Something was up, something neither Karen or Friday could tell him, something that had Karen loopholing her protocols to get Peter on patrol, because now that he thought about it, now it made too much sense.

Peter slammed into the Tower, crawling as fast as he could up the side of the building aiming for one of the less occupied floors. “Karen, can you ask Friday to open a window?”

“Friday says the Boss had ordered no one to disturb him.” Karen responded, seeming to completely ignore Peter’s question once more. “She also says, any and all defensive protocols are prohibited from being used on Spiderman.”

Peter’s mind faltered again, as he continued his frantic climb. “You two are giving me whiplash with your weird-ass answers,” he remarked. Peter wasn’t stupid though. For whatever reason, Mr. Stark didn’t want him to know what was going on, but Friday wanted him to anyway. Friday was telling him, without breaking any protocols, that he needed to break into Stark Tower, to help Mr. Stark. Or he was going insane as two top-of-the-line AI’s glitched out.

So, he did just that. Busting through a window in Mr. Stark’s lab, Peter let himself in, crouching on the ceiling ready for a fight. “Where is he?” He asked, not caring which AI answered.

“I am prohibited from giving Spiderman the Boss’s location or state of being,” Friday remarked, Peter could have sworn she sounded frantic, and pissed.

“Karen, where is he?” Peter begged, not even wanting to know why the two had suddenly taken to calling him Spiderman, instead of Peter.

“There is a heat signature in the penthouse, in Mr. Stark’s suite, the bathroom,” Karen answered, showing Peter on his HUD. “The temperature of the body is extremely low.”

Peter’s stomach dropped to his feet and suddenly he felt like throwing up, but he pushed it it a side, deliberated only for a second, before diving back out the broken window, to launch himself up the side of Stark Tower, crashing into the penthouse, and tearing toward Mr. Stark’s suite. His heart was pounding, his head at war as desperation told him he was imagining things, but logic told him he was right on the money.

Peter burst into the bedroom, making a beeline for the bathroom. Not even bothering to knock on the door, Peter tore it off its hinges and tossed it aside. “Mr. Stark!” Peter froze upon seeing his hero, his mentor, his father! slumped against the bathroom counter, pale as a ghost, just as still and in a pool of his own blood. It was Uncle Ben! It was Uncle Ben all over again! But worse! It was worse! Way! Way! Way! WORSE!!!!

“Peter, the best course of action would be to put pressure on his wounds, secure his airways, and get him medical care immediately.” Friday’s frantic voice cut him out of his spiralling panic attack.

“Y-yeah!” he gasped, dropping to his knees, trying not to hurl as he splashed blood everywhere that it already wasn’t. He latched onto Mr. Stark’s bleeding wrist, his hands trembling as he tried to stop the bleeding, without accidentally hurting Mr. Stark more. “M-Mr. Stark?! Tony! Can you hear me?! Don’t you have those Iron-medic-bots, Friday?!” he demanded as he laid Mr. Stark on his back, practically in tears when he realized the man was breathing. He couldn’t clam his own heart long enough to hear if Mr. Stark’s was beating, but it seemed to be, if he was breathing.

“I do, Peter, but without an override of the Boss’s orders I cannot use them.” Peter didn’t have time to think about what this could mean, regarding how the two AI’s had gotten him to the Tower in the first place, all he cared about was his mentor.

“Mr. Stark! Tony! How do I override your stupid protocols?! Please! Don’t leave me! Please?! How do I override them, Friday?!” He screamed.

“Ms. Potts.” Friday stated.

“Call her then!” Peter cried.

“Boss’s protocols--”

“Karen!” Peter was desperate, bordering on hysterical.

“Calling Ms. Potts,” Karen responded.

At the same time, Friday said, “Peter, there are towels just above your head. Be careful of your strength, you could hurt Mr. Stark if you hold too tight.” Peter scrambled for the towels, using his web-shooters when he couldn’t reach them without letting go of Mr. Stark.

“Mr--Tony! Please, don’t die one me!” Peter didn’t quite know how in the hell he wasn’t bawling his eyes out, but his eyes remained dry, almost as if his body was aware of how desperately he needed his vision clear.

“Tony, Babe, I love you but seriously, if I’m going to do this stupid share-holder meeting for you, you can’t call me in the middle of it, using Peter’s AI isn’t going to change that. You’re lucky we’re on a lunch break right now.” Ms. Potts' voice suddenly spoke in Peter’s, making him visibly jump.

“M-Miss Potts!” Peter exclaimed. He was honestly surprised it came out, rather than the sobbing mess he felt like he was inside. “Mr. Star--”

“Ms. Potts, Friday needs a direct override of the Boss’s protocols.” Karen interrupted in an urgent voice.

“Friday, directly override every one of Tony’s protocols that you want. Access code: Even when I’m wrong, I’m right. ” Ms.Potts answered without hesitation. “Peter, what’s going on? Where’s Tony?”

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He was breaking down. There was an adult present (sort of) he no longer had to be strong. He choked on a sob as his eyes blurred, but hardly had time to really get into it, before several loud crashes echoed through the building and two Iron Man suits erupted from the floor.

Peter shrieked as Mr. Stark was ripped from his hands and placed into a silver and red suit with the American Red-Cross symbol on it. He had very little time to do much else as he too was encased in a suit, though this one was the typical red and gold.

The two sets of armor shot out of the building with a blatant disregard for property damage and shot through the sky toward the north, gaining speed and going supersonic in a matter of minutes, going only as fast as was safe for Mr. Stark.

“I am transporting them to the Compound,” Friday announced in Peter’s ear. “Helen Cho is being contacted. I am sending Happy for Mrs. Parker. Your plane is being prepped and will be ready for take-off by the time you arrive, Boss Lady. Emergency Level: Yellow. Guardian Angel Protocol activated. Rhodey has been notified and is inbound in the War Machine armor. EAT: Five minutes.”

Peter’s mind seemed to blank. One minute he’s shooting toward the Compound at a speed that made his insides turn on each other, the next, he was in a long white hallway surrounded by the Avengers. There was frantic, yet hushed whispers as everyone but Vision questioned Mr. Stark’s wounds.

Distantly, he heard a voice calling his name, but all he could think about was Mr. Stark’s cold prone form on his bathroom floor. Emergency Level: Yellow. He knew what yellow meant. He understood what had happened. He understood now, why the AI’s had been acting strange. He knew everything!

Aside from: why?!

He couldn’t understand! Why would Mr. Stark do it?! Why would he feel that way?! He was Tony Stark! He was amazing! He was always so strong and confident! He was always ready with a snide remark and a smile, teasing Peter, but never lacking in his praise! He was always perfectly put together and understanding and patient!

But you've seen a mask like that before, a voice in his head defended. You knew it was possible.

"But not for Mr. Stark!" he wanted to scream. He never imagined it could have happened to his perfect father-figure, who never so much as faltered.

“Peter!” He jerked out of his thoughts and into his aunt’s arms. Happy appeared behind her, face grim as he went to Vision and Colonel Rhodes, who stood whispering in the corner near the door. “I’m so sorry you had to see that, Baby,” his aunt tried to sooth in his ear.

“Why?” he asked, his voice sounded so dead he almost flinched. Was that really his voice?

“After everything?!” May demanded. “I...no one should have to see someone they love like that, especially a child.”

“So, is someone going to tell us what the fuck is going on?” All eyes turned to Sam Wilson.

“Language!” May and Happy snapped at the same time.

“This is no time for games,” Natasha Romanov countered coldly.

“There is a child present!” May snarled, not even a little intimidated by the assassin-spy turned Avenger.

Before any of them could continue the war, Ms. Potts came sprinting down the corridor barefoot and frantic. “What the hell happened?” She begged. “Nothing has changed!”

Colonel Rhodes and Happy shook their heads looking lost. “Not in the last month, Boss,” Happy said. “Coffee every morning with me.”

“I called at lunch,” Rhodey supplied.

“We had dinner together,” Vision agreed.

All four sets of eyes turned to Aunt May and Peter. Peter flinched in confusion, but Aunt May spoke. “It's a month before school lets out. They've started EOCs, AP testing, and finals. He's been busy, but he texts him all day.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Wanda Maximoff asked, looking particularly at Vision.

But Peter had put the pieces together and he understood exactly what changed. “It’s my fault?!” He gasped, suddenly feeling like the world, already wobbly and confusing, was jerked out from under him. He was free-falling.

“No!” Aunt May turned to him. “No! It’s not!”

“Yes, it is!” Peter cried, tearing away from her as the world spun. “I’ve been blowing him off! I kept telling him I was busy!”

“No, Pete! Baby, he knew you had finals! You text him all the time!” His aunt tried to reassure him.

“It doesn’t matter!” Peter cried, suddenly unable to breath. He couldn’t swallow. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t think! He couldn’t think past the image of Mr. Stark slumped in a puddle of his own blood! “It doesn’t matter! He comes first! He should always come first!”

“Pete! Peter, breathe! Breathe, Sweetie. Follow me. In, 2...3...4, out, 2...3...4.” Peter tried his hardest to follow his aunt’s words as his mind continued to bake up cruelty after cruelty at his failure.

He’d driven Mr. Stark to suicide!!

“Attempted suicide?” Falcon asked, a conversation having happened during Peter's panic attack.

"That is a coward's way out," Scarlet Witch snarled.

Several things happened at once. Ms. Potts, Colonel Rhodes, and Happy all jerked forward ready to rip the girl a new one. 

"I agree," Steve Rogers stated.

Vision took on a sad sort of disappointed look, Black Widow had no reaction toward the words, but Falcon looked pissed.

Aunt May froze.

Peter...Peter stepped forward and faster than any of them could think, let alone see, a SLAP! and CRACK! resonated through the hall.

And the door at the end of the hall opened to reveal Dr. Helen Cho.

[cilldaracailin]

A Kind Of Magic

Thanks for all the lovely Tumblr love. Here is the next part :)

20

“The word ‘happy’ would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness.”

“Each one?” Asked Taron as he held up the circle cookie cutter.

“Not the pink or red one, but the rest yes please. I am going to take the pink cake and start icing.”

Claire had left the two, two hours after she had arrived, keeping her promise to Robyn and was extremely nice to Taron, Robyn quizzing him when she came out of the bathroom to make sure her friend hadn’t overstepped her boundaries.

“She was nice, made me tea.” Assured Taron as they sat on the couch having a chat before Claire had to leave.

Robyn and Taron went back to their cake, Taron excited to finally get to add the surprise to the middle of the cake. He helped her to make the vanilla buttercream and as Taron cut the hole into the middle of each sponge, Robyn spread the icing on each layer. Half way through, they switched places, Taron now icing each sponge layer as Robyn handed them to him.

“Ok now the surprise?” He asked when all layers of sponge had been added except the top red one.

“Yes, now the surprise.”

“Yes!”

“Don’t go too mad though. The surprise needs to be able to fall out.” Robyn got him a breakfast bowl. “Add a bit of everything you want into this bowl and when it’s full, that’s all we can put inside.”

“What do you want inside?” He asked as he started to tear the seal from the unicorn confetti.

“Whatever you want I am good with Taron.”

Giddy Taron was back and he added a bit of every kind of sweet they had bought in the shop into the bowl, sneaking one or two into his mouth as he went.

“Are you humming Pure Imagination?” Asked Robyn.

“Uh-huh.” He replied as he chewed and hummed. “Thought it was a perfect choice.”

Robyn reached over and took a white chocolate button from the bowl.

“Ok now just pour into the cake?” He asked as he lifted the bowl up.

“Yep.” Taron carefully tipped the treats into the middle of the cake. “And put the red layer on.” Doing as Robyn said, Taron looked to her. “And now we continue to buttercream.”

“I got it.” Taron picked up the palette knife and started to add the buttercream on top and around the cake.

Robyn got up from the stool and walked to her baking drawer and pulled out a two buttercream combs. “Keep going. You can do the whole cake.” She left the buttercream tools on the island and picked up her phone. “Just one more to add to the wall.” She said as he looked at her. “You know I have been documenting this whole process Taron.”

“You need them all to send it to me.”

“I need to get your phone number first.”

Taron looked up. “You do not have my phone number yet.”

“No, I do not.”

Taron started to call out his number to Robyn and she typed it into her phone. “You can stick me under ‘Rocketman’.” He said smiling. “And send me the pictures.”

Once Taron had covered the whole cake, Robyn handed him one of the buttercream combs. “Use it to spread the icing evenly the whole way around.” As he made the cake smooth, Robyn grabbed an icing bag and started to fill it with some buttercream. “Ok and now use the other one to make the design.” She handed him the second comb. “You will be ready for celebrity bake off when you’re done.” Laughed Robyn as she watched Taron concentrate very hard on what he was doing.

“I think I will have to Instagram this.” He said as he moved the comb up to create the second wave of pattern but he looked up to Robyn. “Shit Robyn, I didn’t think.”

“Why wouldn’t you Instagram this?”

“I am supposed to be incognito.”

“Well give Lyndsey a ring and ask her. I would imagine people might be wondering if you are actually alive and what a way to come back to the world, with a rainbow surprise cake. I don’t think she would mind too much if a picture of a cake appeared. Your caption could be “Eating cake and resting up. Just what the doctor ordered.”

“Yeah maybe.”

Robyn came to stand beside him. “Your life can’t stand still Taron. It’s a picture of cake.”

“You’d be surprised how a picture of cake can turn nasty.”

Robyn leaned her head on his left shoulder. “Ok let’s finish this cake and I feel like pizza. Want to order in?”

“On one condition.”

“And that is?”

“We can put pineapple on the pizza.”

“Of course!” Taron smiled a little. “Right finish the top of the cake and then we can add the rest of the decorations.”

After showing Taron how to do the first pipped swirl, Robyn let him do the rest and she cut up the fizzy rainbow laces to go on top of each one. The carefully placed the rainbow stripes in a rainbow shape on each pipped swirl.

“And we are done.”

“This looks too good to eat.” Said Taron as he stood back and admired the cake. “But now I see what you mean about eating a seven-layer cake ourselves.”

“We can give some around to the neighbours tomorrow if you want.”

“Yeah I think so. This is too big even for me to eat however I can’t wait to see inside.”

“Well why wait?” Robyn grabbed him a knife. “Let’s cut it now.”

“Really?”

“There is nothing stopping us from cutting it.” She handed him the knife. “You want a little Instagram video to go with it?”

“No but you can video me cutting it so I can show my sisters. They are going to be very jealous.”

“Well now you know how to bake it, you can bake one with them.”

“That’s some expectation there Robyn. Ok. Let’s cut this open.” Taron handed Robyn his phone and she opened the camera and moved the selection to video and gave him nod when she started. Taron had to put a little extra pressure onto the knife to cut through all the layers but he got a slice cut and placing the knife under the slice, slid it out. “Whoa!” He exclaimed as the sweets inside tumbled out. “Oh yes that is amazing!” Robyn stopped the video and grabbed him a plate for the slice of cake.

“Taron!” She said when he pulled some of the cake from the plater off with his fingers to eat. “I was going to get you a fork.”

“Ugh this is so good.” He delved in again, taking some green and blue cake from the slice this time. “Come on Robyn. Have some cake.”

Following Taron’s lead, she broke a piece of the cake off and tasted it. “Yep that is some good cake.”

“I like cake.” He said simply as he ate some more, Robyn laughing. “I like rainbow surprise cake. I like that you made me cake.”

“You helped Taron. You made cake too and can we start using longer sentences please?”

Taron grinned. “I like cake.” He said again reaching for some the sweets inside the cake.

“I think it might be time to step away from the cake Taron.”

“No, my cake.” Taron picked the plate up. “Cake makes me happy. You make me happy Robyn.”

“Taron.” Robyn rolled her eyes.

“No seriously. Every day it has just gotten easier and today has been brilliant. I know I have said it a million times and said it again but coming to see you has been the best medicine for me. Robyn?” As he spoke Robyn had moved away from him over to the breakfast bar. “Hey what’s up?”

“I am totally going to ruin your brilliant day.”

“I don’t think you could do anything to ruin this day.”

“Taron, we need to talk about you going home. I don’t think we can avoid the subject any more.”

“Or maybe you can.”

“I am sorry to ruin your happy mood but it is something we need to talk about. You know I love having you here for many reasons but you have a family back home who are desperate to see you and…”

“… And a pile of responsibilities waiting for me.” Taron put down the plate and leaned his left hip against the island. “I have been avoiding it. Really don’t want to think about it. Really don’t want to have to do it.”

“And using longer sentences please Taron.”

He sighed and moved to stand beside her at the breakfast bar. “Taking what happened to us out of the picture, forgetting what you did for me and why I came here, this past week…” He stopped. “Ok maybe not the whole week but since Wednesday, being here with you has been a breath of fresh air for me. It is not often I get to just sit and sit and know I can sit without being interrupted or disturbed or reminded I need to be on set. I have slept so soundly, cooked and eaten, been to choir and had the most fun laughing until my sides hurt. Then throw in the other part of it, the one we have worked very hard to come to terms with what happened together and all I feel is undeniable love and support from you and you don’t even have to be talking to me for me to know you are there.” He took a small breath. “When I go home, it is going to be the total opposite as soon as I step off the plane.”

“Remember we spoke about your support system Taron?”

“Yeah I know my family and friends will be there and Lyndsey has sorted every fine detail for the press but here I can almost hide. At home, when I go back to work it’ll be different.”

“You don’t know that Taron.”

“I know it won’t be like it is here.”

“As much as I love having you here, you can’t hide with me forever.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Been a pain in the arse for you?”

“Nope. You have been wonderful and what support I have been for you; you have been just as important for me. I quite enjoy sleeping through the night, love hearing you sing in the shower and very much enjoy your squishy hugs. If you hadn’t of turned up on my doorstep, I can only image the state I would be in now. You have helped me so much Taron, showed me how important it is to talk, to share and communicate, to laugh and have fun. I would love for you to stay but you need to think about going home Taron. It is going to be hard at first, there is no denying that. I would imagine the story is going to blow up for a while but then it will die down Taron.”

“When I do press for Kingsman though…”

“Sure, it will come up but don’t you find it much easier to talk about now? And I am always going to be here Taron. Whenever you need to talk and I was serious when I told you that you could come and visit me whenever you wanted. Just because we won’t see each other every day, doesn’t mean what we had and have will change. We said we were in this together and we always will be.”

Taron sighed. “I hate your sensibleness.”

“Me too.”

“Can I have another week?” Robyn turned to him. “Can I have another week with you. It will give me some more heal up and properly prepare for what is to come.”

“Well I wasn’t going to kick you out tomorrow Taron. I mean we have this damn rainbow cake to eat. Of course, you can have another week but only if you ring Lyndsey and ask her can you post the picture of the cake.”

“Ugh why?”

“Because it will ease you back into the world a little, rather than stepping off the cliff at the press conference.”

“Yeah ok.” Taron ran his hands through his hair.

“I am sorry to ruin your day.”

“You haven’t.”

“And let’s try that with a bit less sadness.”

“You haven’t!” He said again with a cheerier tone to his voice.

“Actors.” Robyn returned. “Taron?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I have a squishy hug please?”

He looked to Robyn and saw a lone tear fall down her right cheek as she stood beside him with her eyes closed. He drew her in close and hugged her tight. “We still have a week.” He said into her hair and he heard her mumble something back but didn’t quite catch it. He had been avoiding the subject of going home but knew Robyn was right when she said he needed to face whatever was coming and as he had learnt over the last week, time helps to heal everything but as much as Taron didn’t want to leave Robyn, when he saw a little tear on her cheek, he realised that she was going to find him leaving just as hard. Robyn spoke into his shoulder again. “Chicken, I can’t hear what you are saying when you talk into my shoulder.”

“I said, can we sing something together and don’t call me chicken.”

“Of course we can and you are always going to be my chicken. What do you want to sing?”

“How about something on the piano.”

“I thought you only played the classical pieces.”

“Might have one or two songs I can play that we can sing.”

“I am up for anything.” Taron gave her back a little rub before letting her go. “Please don’t be sad.”

“I am not sad.” She said. “I just like having you around.”

“I like being around and don’t be sad. If you keep looking so sad, then I am going to be sad and it’s just going to be a miserable week and I want our week to be filled with more laughter and jokes and baking and you have your visit to me to look forward too.”

She smiled. “Yes, I do. I have a feeling your mam is going to pull out your baby pictures.”

Taron chuckled. “Yes, she probably will. It’s not the end of us seeing us each other when I go, right?”

“As I said to your mam, Wales is not that far away.”

“What about when I am back filming.”

“Let’s not get to ahead of ourselves ok? Week one together might have been great, week two might suck. We might not want to see each other after week two.”

“Somehow I doubt it very much. Now you promised me a song and last time that worked a treat in cheering us both up and this doesn’t count as our sing off, right?” He asked as he took her hand and led her to the piano.

“No, it definitely doesn’t.” She agreed as she lifted the lid of the piano and sat on the stool, Taron sitting beside her.

“So, what have you got up your sleeve?”

“How about a little Johnny Gorilla.”

Taron looked at Robyn very confused until she started playing and he instantly recognised the chords to John Legends All Of Me and she nodded to him to start and he sang through the first verse and pre chorus and when he started singing the chorus, Robyn joined in perfect harmony and as the second verse started, she kept singing with him keeping the harmony going but Taron stopped suddenly, before they got through the second line of the verse.

“Hey what’s up?” She asked him.                    

“Do you mind if record this.”

“Record this?”

“Us singing. It’s the first time and it is beautiful and I want to have a recording of it because at the moment our emotions are a little raw. I promise it will be for my entertainment only for when I feel sad, like the way you have your pictures. I will send it to you too so you can have it as well.”

“Yeah ok, sure why not.”

Taron stood up and walked into the kitchen to get his phone. He carefully placed it on top of the piano, making sure the video would have the two of them in it as they sang.

“Ready?” He asked.

“Surprisingly yes.” She replied.

Taron pressed the red button and sat back down on the stool beside her. “Wave.” He said giving her a little nudge and she did, finding it hard not to grin as Taron was waving like a mad man. “Me and Robyn…”

“Robyn and I.” She corrected.

“Robyn and I, impromptu sing song take one.”

“Take one? Oh Taron, you of little faith. One take.”

Robyn started playing the opening chords of the song, nodding to Taron to take the first verse as before, looking to him as he put his whole heart into the song, Robyn joining in once again with the chorus, a smile on Taron’s face as she pitched the notes perfectly against his. They continued on through the second verse the, both closing their eyes as they sang the first two lines the words meaning so much to them. Robyn let Taron take the pre-chorus alone, listening as his beautiful soft voice melted easily into the melody, picking back up with him in the chorus. The song grew in volume as they reach the bridge, before coming back down for the last chorus, Robyn keeping melody with Taron before she broke off into harmony again. Robyn let Taron sing the last part of the chorus by himself, just to hear the stunning tone of his voice before joining him for the last two lines.

He smiled her way when they finished. “I stand corrected. One take.” He reached up and stopped the video. “That was just what I needed. What else do you know?”

“Nothing as complete as that one.”

“One song Robyn huh?”

She laughed. “Pretty much. Your voice is beautiful Taron. There is still stunning rich sound quality to it and a softness when you need to. I could listen to it all day.”

“Now you are making me blush.”

“I like singing with you.”

“Yes, with you, not too sure I want to sing against you.”

“No backing out.”

“A tour of a film set instead?”

“Nope.”

“I can introduce you to Colin Firth.”

“Nope.”

“Hugh? Hey you can have a sing off with Hugh instead.” Robyn smiled. “Ahh yes, you like that idea.”

“Nope.”

“Robyn…” Groaned Taron.

“Sorry rocketman. Not happening. We shook on it.”

“Can I play my I was sitting in pain and quite delirious at the time and cannot remember this conversation happening at all card?”

“Pity there was a witness.”

“Witness?”

“Yes, my new best fake boyfriend, Richard.”

“Ahh shit Richard.”

“I am willing to wait until you are back to full strength Taron but you are not backing out of this. Now, I think it’s time to order some food, unless you are full of cake.”

“Let’s order some food and book a flight.”

Robyn had started to get up but sat back down. “A flight?”

“May as well and sure while I am at it, I will ring Lyndsey and ask her about the Instagram post.”

Taron very much appreciated the sideways hug Robyn gave him. “I can help with all three, if you want.”

“I want.”

“And we are back to short sentences again.”

Before he could change his mind, Taron booked a flight to Birmingham with help from Robyn and from there he could take a train back home. He booked it a week away, for early Saturday morning. “It’s not that I don’t want to spend another full day with you, it is just that I don’t want to drag our ‘see you later’ out all day.” He also contacted Lyndsey who was happy to let him post a picture of the cake, agreeing with Robyn that it wouldn’t do any harm to show he was still around. Last but not least, they ordered pizza and a heap of other food from Robyn’s favourite pizza take out in the next town.

While they waited for their food to arrive, Taron took a picture of the cake, making sure it only the cake and surprise inside in the photo and using the caption that Robyn had suggested, he posted it.

“Now we wait.” He said as he sat back on couch beside Robyn but it only took about five second after Taron had settled himself for his notifications to start coming in.

“Here let me.” She took his phone and opened his Instagram, looking as the comments started racing in. She found a smile on her face as she read them. “Your fans are lovely Taron and don’t make that noise at me. Everyone is happy to see you posting and wishing you nothing but well wishes.”

“Until they are not.”

“Don’t make me slap you Taron because I know where you are not injured.” Robyn watched as the comments continued to appear under his photo. “‘Definitely what you need Taron. Wishing you a speedy recovery’. ‘That cake, yum!’. ‘So glad to see you posting again! Get well soon!’. ‘Hope you are ok Taron. Sending you lots of love.’ Yeah a tonne of nasty messages.”

“Just wait Robyn.” He took his phone back and closed the app. “Give it time.”

An hour later their take out arrived and while Taron routed for plates, Robyn lifted the pizza box straight into the sitting room and placed it on the coffee table.

“We ate ice cream from the tub. We are going to eat pizza from the box. Saves washing up.”

Another hour followed and Taron lay sprawled on his back on the couch, his head in the corner beside Robyn legs, rubbing his stomach, groaning. “Ugh too much food.” He complained.

She looked down to him. “No, not too much food. Too much cake. I told you not to eat cake afterwards.”

“Don’t mention cake!” Moaned Taron.

“Aww poor little baby.” Robyn smiled, stretching a little so she could help him rub his stomach.

“Why did you let me eat more cake?” He asked.

“You are a grown man Taron. You make these decisions for yourself and I did tell you not too.”

Taron curled up on the couch, while Robyn moved her hand from his stomach to his head and gently scratched his scalp, Taron moving a little to get closer to her hand. “What do you want to watch?”

“Hmm me sleep. You watch.”

“Taron please tell me that you will use longer sentences for the rest of the week.”

“Ok.”

Robyn continued to play with his hair, as Taron dozed in and out of sleep while she watched some TV. Taking a deep breath which finished in a sigh, Robyn was relieved Taron had accepted her challenging conversation earlier and agreed that it was time to think about going home, even taking it on himself to book his flight. It filled her with dread to think about next Saturday but trying to push the negatives to the side, she instead focused on what she knew was going to be a very good week with Taron. Now that the conversation of what happened in the 7/11 was an easy one for them to discuss, both trying to find positives in what they now called ‘their adventure’, their time together was constantly filled with laughter, stories and a pure interest in getting to know each other.

Taron moved under her hand and moved again. “Ugh I need a wee.” He said opening his eyes, Robyn chuckling.

“Then go and wee.” She answered him.

“Way too much effort.”

“You know I think I might bring you to work next week Taron. You will fit in quite well. Giddiness, no listening ears, not wanting to go to the bathroom and making messes.”

“Well I already have a best friend in creche. Her name is Beth and we like to eat fruit and yogurt together but I really do need a wee.” Taron eased himself up from the couch slowly. “Think we might have a done a bit too much today.” He said as he got to his feet, his hand on his ribs.

“Feeling a bit achy?”

“Yeah.”

“We had a late night and an earlyish start and definitely have done more activity today than any other and the flour fight probably has not helped either.”

“Probably but it was fun.” He said as he walked past her and made his way to the bathroom, leaving Robyn on the couch.

While he as gone, Robyn opened up her own Instagram on her phone and clicked into Taron’s page and into the picture he had posted, scrolling through the hundreds of comments, her own curiosity getting the better of her. All the comments, the ones she could understand in English, were positive, talking about the cake and wishing Taron a very speedy recovery, only a few questioning who had helped him and making a smart comment about being his nurse.

“Thought we weren’t supposed to look at any media posts Robyn.”

His voice made her jump and she dropped the phone into her lap as he spoke to her from behind the couch. “Jesus don’t do that!”

“No looking, that’s what Lyndsey said.” Taron reached over her and took her phone from her lap. “No looking at the comments.”

Robyn turned and knelt on the couch. “That counts for you too.” She said taking the phone back but Taron grabbed her hands.

“Looking together?” He asked raising an eyebrow her way. “Jesus your hands are freezing.” Taron had pulled a long-sleeved shirt on over his shirt while they had waited for their food to arrive but Robyn had only dressed in a blue t-shirt. He walked to the island and picked up his grey hoodie that he had saw Claire with but pretended he hadn’t and brought it with him back to the couch. “Here. You’re cold.” He handed her his jumper.

“I can grab a jumper from my closet.”

“Your closet is all the way over there in the bedroom. This hoodie is right here. Take it and put it on.” Robyn took the hoodie from his hands and he sat back in the corner. “Put it on.” He repeated.

She shuffled forward and fixing it so it was the right way around, opened the bottom of the material and pulling her arms through first, she slipped her head in and pulled Taron’s jumper down over her. It was soft and oversized on her and as she fixed the hood, she could understand why Claire spent so much time smelling his clothes. There was the faintest scent of aftershave on his hoodie and it was heaven. Finally getting the hoodie to sit right, she sat back on the couch. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Taron snuggled back into the corner, sitting up. “So, we’re looking at the comments now?”

“Just a sneaky look.”

“And?”

“All good. You even had some offers to be your nurse.”

“Think I will pass.”

Robyn moved a little closer to him. “Good choice. I’ve picked a movie for us.”

“And I have the fleece ready.” Taron held up the teddy bear throw he had also claimed as his own along with her couch. He opened his left arm for her and she moved a little closer, taking up their all too familiar positions. Taron puffed the throw out and covered their legs as the rested on the poof and pulled it up a little, stopping at his waist. “Love this fleece” He said. “Might have to stuff it in my bag to bring home.”

“Don’t even think about it. I will buy you one. Penny’s best. Sorry Primark to you. Primark’s best.”

“I don’t want my own one. I want this one. This is used and loved and it will fit in my duffle.”

“Ok then I get to keep all your clothes because they will not fit in your duffle with his fleece.”

“I can agree to that. Most of them are already in your closet.”

“You’re a tosspot.” Replied Robyn looking his way. “Watch the movie.”

“Okie dokie.” Answered Taron with a laugh. “What’s a tosspot?”

“You are. Now be quiet and watch Channing and Jamie blow up the white house.”

“I know those guys.”

“Taron! You are incorrigible!”

“You secretly love it.” Taron gave her a squeeze.

“You are bloody lucky I do.”

[chiefnooniensingh]

I Won’t Hesitate (for you) Chapter 10

Chapter 10: I can’t keep it all together

In this chapter: In the past, Isobel Bracken-Evans finds something that changes her life forever. In the present, time is running out and Alex is stuck. Michael is more and more honest, but is he as trustworthy as he seems?

A/n: A little shorter than usual perhaps, but we're hurtling towards the end here. Anyone have any idea yet?

As always, a special thanks to Aileen (@acomebackstory), Callie (@callieramics), @hm-arn, @royalshadowhunter, @ladymajavader and May (@merlinss) over on Tumblr for their continued support and cheerleading. I don’t know if I would’ve finished it without you guys! 

So @Lire_Casander guessed both last week's title and the one the week before that. Chapter 7 was called You should give me a chance (this can't be the end), which is one of the most heartbreaking lines of the song Still in love with you by the Scorpions, and I always imagine Malex while singing it. I even made a gifset of it. Chapter 8 was called Come Back (I still need you) which is from Hold on by Chord Overstreet.

Can anyone guess this week's?

also on: ao3

other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

June, 1934

Isobel Evans-Bracken was clearing out the attic of their new house. They’d been living there for well over a year, yet the attic had filled up with their stuff fairly quickly, as stuff was wont to do. Old reports cards and art projects Mrs Evans had kept, and Isobel had never had the heart to throw away; pictures of her and her brothers before she and Max were adopted; toys from when she was little – okay, so maybe it was mostly her stuff. Her husband wasn’t a sentimental man, he barely had anything from his youth. Isobel knew precious little about that time in his life because it was very painful for him to talk about. She knew he fled a colonized, war-riddled country after the Great War and had a hard time adjusting to the States. But the circumstances that caused him to leave, the hardships of living in and not being accepted in a new, strange country, those details he had never shared with anyone.

She loved and trusted him anyway. If he ever wanted to share those details in time, she would be there to listen.

In the back Isobel found some boxes she didn’t recognize. There was no name scribbled on the sides and she couldn’t even remember these being part of the many, many boxes the movers took upstairs for storage. Odd. She pulled one towards her and opened it, curiosity getting the better of her, as it often did.

“Izzy? Are you home?”

“I’m upstairs, darling!” Isobel called down as she took out several yellowed newspaper clippings. They were all connected to a 15-year-old cold case, a little girl who was murdered in Roswell, New Mexico. Isobel sorted through them, going from the first “Ortecho Family Drama Unfolds” clipping, to the discovery of the body two weeks later. Why was Noah keeping these?

“What are you doing in the attic?” Noah’s voice was coming closer, climbing the stairs towards her.

“Oh, just sorting through some of my stuff,” she said absentmindedly as she flipped through the newspapers. “You know, old memories and – ” She broke off mid-sentence as she came to the date of the arrest of the one and only viable suspect. A picture was next to the short report of the arrest and the young man, whose identity was not known at the time. She knew it though.

It was Noah.

He was about 20 in this picture, and since it was 1920, the timeline matched roughly with him fleeing his country. He looked younger, thinner and harder. But Isobel recognized him immediately.

“Old memories?” Noah’s voice was now almost at the attic door and Isobel jerked out of her stupor. She stuffed the newspapers back in the box and pushed them to the side, grabbing some art projects from a nearby pile, just in time before the attic door opened and Noah came in, smiling. She held up her projects, working hard to bring a smile on her face and not giving anything away.

They spend the rest of the afternoon looking at her projects and old pictures and Isobel, having learned from early childhood to lie through her teeth, pretended nothing was wrong.

The next day, after Noah had gone to work, she went back to the attic and took out the box again. Now with more time she spread the newspaper clippings out before her and examining them more closely. Now she saw Noah’s tiny handwriting in the margins. If before she could pretend this was just her husband’s weird hobby, after reading some of his notes, she couldn’t deny the truth any longer.

His note under the news of the discovery of Rosa’s body was especially damning. Weren’t supposed to find her this soon. Cover tracks immediately.

Isobel let out a single, shocked sob.

The note by the news that Jim Valenti had killed herself made her blood run cold. Good riddance.

Her husband had killed Rosa Ortecho and had gotten away with it.

She had married a murderer.

Present day, 22nd of October, 1935

“No one gets off this train without being accompanied by me or the staff from the other carriages, is that clear?” Alex stood in front of the train door, having arrived just in time to stop people from swarming onto the platform for one last breath of fresh air before the final leg of the journey. Every face he saw was mutinous, but Alex couldn’t risk anyone escaping. Kyle was locked up for now, but the mystery was by no means solved. Someone else still could’ve committed the crime, could still be planning to run.

“Can I at least get out?” His father appeared beside the other travellers, his nose still very noticeably broken, a front tooth missing. Alex felt a savage pleasure at seeing the tables turned.

Alex shrugged. “I could literally not give any less of a fuck what you do with your time.”

Despite the hard feelings towards him, the other passengers sniggered, which made Jesse Manes turn red. He shouldered passed Alex and disembarked the train, letting in a blast of cold air. But it was clear they’d cleared the Alps; the cold wasn’t as biting as it had been. Michael stepped up, looking sheepish. Alex knew why; he was feeling it, too. They were each other’s something, which made this entire situation all the more complicated. They didn’t know how to act around each other. “I need to call Jack, tell him we’ve arrived at Lausanne.”

“Yes, alright. I’ll have to accompany you,” Alex said, opening the door and allowing Michael to get out ahead of him.

“Well, if you must,” Michael said, with a mock tone of exasperation. Alex followed him to the phone booth on the platform, then sat down on a bench a few feet away, taking out his notebook and going over it all for what felt like the eight thousandth time. He knew most of it by heart now, but that didn’t mean it made the mystery any clearer.

He was still immersed when Michael sat down next to him. “Jack says the Compagnie is not pleased by our delay. I told him to tell them to ‘stuff it’. I’m not sure he will.”

Alex snorted, looking up from his notebook and straight into Michael’s eyes. They were twinkling lightly, as if a murderer had never ruined this trip beyond repair. “You always did have a way with words.”

“I try.”

Alex shook his head with a smile and looked back down to his notebook. “I don’t think I can figure it out, Michael,” he said after a minute silence. Michael looked up, his eyes filled with sympathy. “Literally anyone could’ve done this. Sure, there are several people with motive. Kyle, Max, Isobel – ”

“ – me,” added Michael, with a half-smile. At Alex’s shocked expression. “Come on, Alex, you know you can’t deny it. I have as much motive as Max has. I love Isobel. I don’t know if the allegations of abuse were true, but you know I would never have waited to find out if those rumours reached me.”

“Yes, but I know you – ”

“You saying I’m not capable of murder?”

“No, I’m saying you wouldn’t have the patience to wait around and plan a perfect murder. You’re impulsive and rash and emotional and if someone hurts someone you love, you don’t wait to get retribution. You find it immediately.”

Michael choked out a surprised laugh. “Well, you’re not wrong. I’m surprised you still know so much about me.”

Alex brushed his hand against Michael’s, only briefly, but enough for the familiar rush of warmth go through him. “I don’t think I ever could’ve forgotten about you.”

Michael grabbed Alex’s hand and pressed a swift kiss to the back of it. “You’re a foolish romantic, Alexander Manes.”

“I know. Always been my problem.”

The two of them looked at each other, before Michael tore his eyes away. “So what are you going to do when we get to Paris?”

“I don’t know. I have to give the police something. There was a murder on this train. I can’t show up empty-handed after three days spent with all the suspects.”

“Tell me your thoughts,” Michael said, sitting up straight and giving him his undivided attention.

Alex blinked, surprised. “Okay,” he said, then opened his book. “Noah Bracken, 35, murdered in a locked room. Stab wounds to the chest. No stab wound is identical. It’s like the person stabbing him tried to make it look like different people did it.” Michael straightened further, giving Alex a nod to continue. “Isobel is the most obvious suspect, since she was in the room. But there’s nothing else that points to her, and if it’s true she took Barbital, she was physically incapable of waking up. Max Evans lied about being her brother and was seen fighting with Noah just a few weeks before the murder, possibly about Isobel. You brought on board the murder weapon – which you stole from my house fifteen years ago, I might add – and turned out to be Isobel’s other brother. Kyle has the strongest motive, seeing as his father killed himself in the wake of the Ortecho case. But he supposedly has an alibi, provided by Maria, whose alibi was first her mother and then Kyle, which makes her a very shaky character witness. Mr Otto tried to run, his daughter’s alibi has him sleeping. However, she was apparently also talking to Max Evans. The murder was committed at 4:30, not 3, a fact Kyle knew and decided to conceal, along with his true identity…” He trailed off, sighing deeply. “I’m at a loss. I don’t know what to tell the police. I can’t give them anything.”

“Would that be so bad?” Michael said softly, and Alex looked at him startled. “Noah Bracken was a terrible person, a murderer. Would it be so bad to, I don’t know, let his murderer get away with it?”

Alex rested his head against the station walls behind him and let out a long sigh. “I don’t know if I can. I’ve always had a very clear moral code. And no matter what crimes a person committed, they should always get a fair trial. Murder is not an excuse for murder.” He looked at Michael with a sad smile. “I’m a murderer, too, you know.” Michael looked back at him, shocked, and Alex swallowed. He’d never told anyone about this particular dark place of his psyche, but he pressed on. “I murdered dozens of faceless men on the battlefield. I am a murderer. And I got away with it. Because it was in service of my country. That…injustice to my victims will never go away. But I can try and give other victims justice. That’s why I became a private investigator after I was injured. To make up for the murders I got away with.”

“Oh, Alex…” Michael began, but then jumped up as the train whistle blew. “Jesus, we have to leave! Get on the train, quickly!”

They ran inside and only just jumped on when the train lurched into motion. Out of breath, the two men leaned against the train wall, both chuckling. “You know, Alex,” Michael said, turning his head to look at him with a smile, “I think you’re closer than you think you are. You have all the puzzle pieces, I’m sure of it. Now you just gotta find how they fit together.”

He closed the distance between them and pressed a light kiss to Alex’s lips, before sauntering off in the direction of his cabin. Alex stayed behind, biting his lower lip pensively, his thoughts whirling.

Most of his thoughts were devoted to the question that was driving him insane; was Michael guilty or not? He tried his hardest to push it to the background, because he didn’t know the answer and it wasn’t helping. He still had almost a day before they would arrive in Paris and he needed to figure it out before then.

Even if Noah Bracken was an absolute monster, he deserved justice. Just like Rosa Ortecho had deserved justice.

Alex looked at himself in the reflection of a window. He scoffed when he realized the truth in his eyes; this hadn’t been about justice for quite a while now. It was a mixture of pride and protectiveness. Alex protected those he loved, and even ten years apart hadn’t stopped him loving Michael.

He wanted to solve this case to prove that he could. He wanted to solve this case to clear Michael’s name. Preferably, the solution would lead to both outcomes.

Worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, he went over to the Bracken’s cabin, which had been locked after Isobel had been moved into Miss Otto’s cabin for the remainder of the journey. He took out Michael’s keys and opened it. The body had been moved to the freezer in the kitchens for preservation, but the rest of the cabin remained untouched. Alex turned to look at the inside of the door, inspecting it closely, hoping to find any clue. A handprint. A hair. Anything that would help Alex in his search for the murderer. Not even the lock was picked, there were no scratches or signs of damage on it whatsoever.

It meant the killer had either had a key or had left through the window.

That information helped exactly no one, because those had always been the only two options of this murder, shy of Isobel having murdered her husband herself, which Alex still didn’t think the most likely of options. He straightened up and looked around the cabin. He crouched down, realized his leg wouldn’t allow it and sat down completely instead, changing his perspective. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine a scenario.

It was evening, Mr and Mrs Bracken had just returned to their cabin, exhausted after a long day of travelling. “Darling, can you give me the Barbital, please?” Isobel asked. Noah handed the bottle to her without speaking. He changed into his pyjamas and got into bed, while Isobel rummaged some more. “I ordered some tea,” Isobel said, arranging her pillows.

“That is excellent, my sweet,” Noah said, already half asleep.

There was a heavy knocking on the door and the door opened to reveal Michael, who was holding a tea tray. “Here you go, Mrs Bracken,” Michael said, his eyes flickering to Mr Bracken, who threw him a dirty look for having woken him up. “A good night to you both,” Michael continued, seemingly unbothered. With a nod and a smile at Isobel, he left.

Isobel poured out the tea and handed a cup to her husband. They drank in silence, before Isobel dropped a kiss to Noah’s cheek and went to bed herself. Noah dropped off to sleep almost immediately, but Isobel stared at the ceiling for a good long while.

Alex opened his eyes, wondering how close to the truth this scenario was. Was this when Noah Bracken had been sedated? Had Isobel put the Barbital in his tea? Or had Michael done that? He looked around the cabin again, trying to reset the scenario. He settled his back against the door and tried to get comfortable for a few rundowns of possible scenarios.

He was going to be here a while.

[alexabarnes]

Into the Water-Part Four

Pairing: Bucky x veteran!reader

Summary: When a boy falls into the harbor on an icy December day, Bucky meets ex-combat medic (y/f/n)(y/l/n). She is fighting to figure out life after the war. Something about her sticks with Bucky in a way he can’t shake.

A/N: Wooh! Hello Tumblr folks. Sorry I’ve been away for so long. I have had probably the worst writers block ever with this chapter and I just couldn’t get it to a point where I liked where I was going with it. Thank you @invisibleanonymousmonsters for un-writer’s blocking me with literally one sentence. 

Part Three // Masterlist 

“Buck, come on, you gotta call her.” Bucky sighed and set the weights on the gym floor. Steve racked the bar on the bench press stacked with enough plates to outweigh a freight car and walked over to Bucky.

Bucky looked at the floor and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, I don’t know, Steve. I just…” He trailed off. The words were there but he didn’t think he could say them. I’m not that man anymore. I’m too broken. Steve knew all too well what was happening in his head—those thoughts that never seemed to stop nagging at him, making him believe he was still the man Hydra made him, the man who was responsible for so much suffering.

“Don’t go down that road, Buck.” Buck sighed and seemed unconvinced, paranoid thoughts swirling in his head. Steve clapped his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Pal, as maybe the world’s leading authority on waiting too long, don’t.”

Bucky chuckled at that. Steve went back to the bench to do another set. In between strained breaths he yelled out, “Call her.”

“Yeah, whatever, punk.”

______

01:49 

The red lights on her alarm clock glared at her from her nightstand. To absolutely no one’s surprise Y/n was still wide-awake, alternating between watching the shadows on the ceiling, the minutes tick by, and the cars and pedestrians walking down the street below her apartment. Ranger was curled at the end of her bed, snoring softly as usual. 

It had been two weeks since she ran into Bucky in the hallway of the hospital and he hadn’t called her. She had pretty much given up on ever seeing or hearing from him again, but thinking about what he could possibly be up to was better than dealing with her usual intrusive thoughts. 

Y/n had started to drift off to sleep, her eyelids softly closing as the exhaustion took over, when a harsh buzzing on her nightstand jolted her awake. She rolled on her side and grabbed her phone. Blocked Number read on the screen. Y/n almost didn’t answer it seeing as it was so late, but a part of her hoped that maybe it would be him. 

“Hello?” Y/n said into the phone, her voice deep and thick from sleep. 

Silence. “Hello?” She said again.  

“Uh, hey, hi, is this y/n?” Her breath caught in her throat; she knew the voice. It was soft and sweet and shy.

“Bucky?” 

“Um, yeah, it’s me. I, uh, was wondering if you wanted to, uh, grab a coffee? With me?”

Y/n didn’t immediately respond, and Bucky felt his stomach drop. His chest squeezed in anxiety. Oh, Christ. I knew I shouldn’t have fucking listened to Steve. This was so stupid, oh god. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, it’s so late I probably woke you up, I—Jesus. I’m an idiot. Forget I—” 

“Wait, no, Bucky. You didn’t wake me up, I promise. Sleep’s not really my thing,” she chuckled wryly, “I’d love to go grab a coffee.” She smiled to herself in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. She couldn’t help it. 

Bucky just sat there in stunned silence with a goofy grin on his face before he snapped out of it and realized y/n was probably waiting on him to say something. 

“Um, well, I wasn’t exactly sleeping either. There’s a diner over on 72nd. Do you wanna meet me there?” 

“Yeah, Bucky. I’ll be there in 20.”

_______

Bucky sat in a booth in the far corner of the diner, back to the wall eyes facing the door. His heightened senses and his years as a soldier never allowing him to be in positions of vulnerability, so of course he took that seat, identified all the exits, and kept tabs on every person in the diner as he waited for Y/n. 

It was raining softly, small rivulets sliding down the large window panes. The neon lights cast soft light onto Bucky’s dark chestnut hair. An older blonde woman walked up to him wearing her diner apron and holding a glass carafe full of coffee. She smiled warmly at Bucky and refilled his cup. 

“You sure you don’t want anything besides coffee, honey?” She asked. 

“No, thank you, ma’am.” He said, giving her a soft smile. 

“Alright, well, you just go on and holler if you need anything,” she replied. He nodded and thanked her again. The bells on the door jingled against the glass as Y/n stepped into the diner and out of the rain. She wore dark wash jeans and a soft hoodie underneath her faded leather jacket. 

Her y/h/c hair hung in loose strands framing her face, dripping from the rainy walk over. Ranger walked dutifully by her side, wearing his service dog vest, beads of rain dripping off his fur. Y/n looked quickly around the restaurant, her gaze finally landing on Bucky. Ranger’s thin leather leash hung loosely in her hand as she walked toward him. 

Y/n slid into the booth across from Bucky. He smiled nervously at her.  “It’s good to see you, Y/n” 

“You, too, Bucky. I was hoping you’d call.” She smiled sheepishly and looked down at the table. 

“Sorry it took me so long,” he said. 

“It’s okay,” she replied, nodding reassuringly at him. 

“And it’s good to see this guy, too,” Bucky said, leaning over to scratch Ranger behind the ears. Y/n chuckled and smoothed Ranger’s coat. “How are you?” he asked. 

She smirked. “I-uh, yeah, I’m good,” she paused. Bucky just looked at her knowingly. “I heard the kid got discharged a few days ago. No lasting cardiac or brain damage from the drowning. Best case scenario.” She huffed out a short laugh of disbelief. “Guess those really do happen sometimes.” Bucky noticed how when she began to talk about the boy, she’d pull at the dog tags around her neck, making harsh angry lines blossom on her neck. 

The blonde waitress walked back over to the table. They both straightened up and looked up at the waitress. 

“Hey, there, hun. What can I getcha?” 

“Coffee, please, ma’am,” y/n replied. 

“You got it.” The waitress shortly returned with an empty ceramic mug, identical to Bucky’s, gently set it in front of Y/n and streamed in the piping hot black liquid. “Cream and sugar, honey?” 

“No, thanks, ma’am,” she replied. 

“You two sweet things let me know if you need anything else.” Bucky and y/n both smiled at the waitress as she meandered to other tables, refilling coffee and carrying loads of plates in her arms. 

Y/n and Bucky turned back to each other. It didn’t help matters that both y/n and Bucky were already naturally quiet. They both sat there, a little (a lot) unsure of what to do and what to say. Bucky quietly observed her; the way her fingers traced the rim of the chipped ceramic mug, the way her hair softly fell around her face, slightly hiding her eyes. What made Bucky almost laugh was that the silence wasn’t awkward or strained. It was like when she finally came into his presence they fell into a comfortable rhythm. 

Bucky tried to imagine what Steve would say, maybe even what he would say if he was trying to charm some dame back in the 40’s but it didn’t feel like him anymore. 

Bucky began to open his mouth to speak when another waitress meandering around the diner dropped a plate onto the diner’s tiled floors. Bucky watched it happen out of the corner of his eye, but y/n had her back turned. 

The plate shattered upon contact with the floor causing y/n to tense and immediately whip around in her chair, eyes wide with panic at the abrasive noise. When she finally registered it was just a plate hitting the floor, she slowly turned back around to Bucky, breathing heavily trying to calm down again. Ranger, of course, had stayed calm the whole time, his ears only twitching at the noise. He rested his head on y/n’s lap. She took another breath and softly patted Ranger’s head. When it registered to her that Bucky had just watched her ridiculous reaction, her chest squeezed in anxiety. 

“Jesus, I’m sorry. I probably looked like such an idiot over just a fucking plate,” she nervously laughed. 

“Y/n, it’s okay. I get it.” And the look in Bucky’s eyes as he spoke showed this deep sincerity and for the first time, she actually believed he understood. She settled noticeably after that. “How long were you in?” He asked.

“Eight years, couple of long tours. Bagram, Helmand, Kunar.” During his time with Hydra, Bucky had been, let’s just say, well acquainted with the Middle East so he knew the special level of hell those tours must have been. 

“What about you? I can tell by the way you carry yourself you were military.” Y/n knew the answer to this question already. There was no way she didn’t immediately recognize the Winter Soldier the second she saw him, but she wanted to see what he would say when he didn’t know if she knew or not. 

Bucky looked a little thrown by the question because service during World War II and seventy some-odd years as a prisoner of war doesn’t tend to compute for most people. He laughed wryly to himself, “well, uh, it’s kind of complicated, let’s just say a while.” 

“Bucky, it’s okay. I know who you are.” Bucky immediately tensed when y/n spoke, his eyes running over the exits, preparing to bolt. But Y/n reached across the table and covered his hand with her own, bringing his attention back to her. She was slow and deliberate because she knows how sensitive she is to touch, and she can’t imagine what it must be like for him. 

She kept her face calm and even. Bucky steeled himself for the inevitable response he always got when people recognized him: fear, disgust, hatred… but in her eyes he only saw an open calm, no anger or fear brewing beneath the surface. 

She smiled softly. “Bucky, I recognized you the second you pulled me out of the water. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to freak you out.” There were so many things she wanted to tell him. It wasn’t you; it wasn’t your fault. That blood is not on your hands. You are the world’s longest serving POW and to those of us who have served or have been POWs since then, your service means more to us than we could ever put into words. 

But she couldn’t say any of that. For so many reasons. Too much too soon, too intense, it wasn’t the right place or time and she wholeheartedly believed he wasn’t ready to hear it yet either. 

She could tell he was beginning to shut down, close himself off. She wracked her brain for anything she could say to get him to believe she understood at least a little of what he’s been through. Bucky looked tense, upset that he could never ever escape his past. Why did I ever think I could ever have something normal, easy, simple? I’m such a fucking idiot, he thought to himself. 

Y/n suddenly broke the silence, talking softly staring into her coffee, obviously very nervous about what she was about to share. 

“When I came back after my first tour, I remember flying home and walking through the airport in my uniform. A woman stopped me and thanked me for my service. I could tell she was just trying to be nice, but it made my stomach twist. There’s no way she could know, or anyone could really, for that matter. But people who’ve been deployed know that the last thing we feel when we come home is worthy of thanks for everything we saw and did over there. After all the things we lost, after everything I’ve done—” her voice shook a little, “why the fuck would you thank me?” She took a breath to steady herself before continuing. 

“I know people mean well, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. And being home, I thought I could wear my civilian clothes and blend in but so many people knew. Everywhere I went I felt like I had a glowing neon sign attached to me and everyone stared, and everyone judged, and everyone knew. It drove me fucking crazy. It’s like they all were walking on eggshells around me either out of some bullshit, misguided reverence for the image of the person in uniform they created in their mind or out of nervousness that one wrong word, one wrong look and I’d break like a fucking injured wild animal. After I came home, no one could just see me anymore, it’s who I used to be died the second I got over there.” 

She looked back up from her coffee, looking at Bucky’s face, his posture, any sign that maybe she got him to trust her just a little bit. He just nodded and they shared a look that said all they needed say to each other, a look of understanding that only those who have served in combat share. 

“After the whole mess in Vienna and after some very smart people,” he smiled to himself at that, “got all the shit that Hydra put in my head out and I came home, I felt the same way. Steve acted like he believed I was fine. He tried a lot to get me back out in the world, and act like I was still the same person I was before the war, but I can tell every time I flinch or react or—” he hesitated on these next words, rubbing his hands over his face, “wake up screaming, he still sees the Winter Soldier. He would never admit this, but I see the way he tenses up, the way he’s always hyperconscious, treating me like I’m made of glass. I love him to death, but it just makes you feel like…I don’t even know,” he trailed off. 

“It makes you feel like you will never be able to forget. It’s a constant reminder of who you were and what you did despite their best intentions. Because every time they do everything they can to be accommodating and sensitive, you’re reminded why they’re like that.” 

Bucky just breathed out a laugh mixed with a sigh of disbelief. “Yes,” he said, “that’s exactly it.” Y/n just nodded. 

Bucky smiled, trying to ease the weight of the air around them after what they just shared. “Y/n, you should really meet Steve.” 

“As in, Captain America Steve?” she asked, incredulously. Bucky nodded. 

“I think you two would get along well,” he said. Y/n giggled to herself.

The waitress came around again to fill up their mugs of coffee and they continued to talk. After that first stressful bit of their conversation, it’s as if both of them relaxed and the conversation began to flow much easier. Bucky got caught up in her, in the way her eyes would drift off somewhere far from the diner when she began to tell a story, in the way she subconsciously pulled at her dog tags and kept a steady hand on Ranger. He was enraptured by how gentle her voice was and how easy it was for him to talk to her despite never feeling comfortable enough to talk with anyone except for Steve. 

And so they talked until the sunlight began to break on the horizon, casting wisps of pink into the soft morning sky. 

_______________________

PLEASE let me know your thoughts or ideas for what you want to see happen in the future. Getting feedback from you guys motivates me so much to write. 

[noeliareads]

Penpaling Chapter 1

October, 2017. 

“Mom! Did I get any letters yet?” You asked, opening the front door. 

“No honey. Sorry.” You murmured an ‘ok’. It was a long day so you made  yourself a cup of tea before retiring to your room. 

You’ve been waiting for letters to arrive for almost a month. At least one would have arrived by then. You were recently intrigued with penpal letters by watching YouTube videos on them. One month ago you logged onto your Tumblr account and made an infinite amount of posts requesting penpals. You even went out to buy stationery, stickers and everything you can imagine to decorate them and make them look pretty. So far you’ve sent but not yet received. 

***

“Oi Felix, you coming or not?” Chan settled himself on the chair of his studio as he stared at Felix who was playing on his phone. He eventually sat beside his friend and started at the computer screen.

“Are we really doing this?” 

“Sure, why not?” 

Tumblr, a magical and equally scary place that is the home of many fangirls. At least that’s the side they saw. After their first tumblr experience, Felix and Chan liked to go on Tumblr and see if there were any fans watching their survival show and hopefully rooting for them to debut. There were a lot. One day, Chan logged onto his account and began to randomly read posts. He encountered a post called “Penpals?”. He was intrigued. 

***

“Penpals?”

Hello! My name is Arizona, I am 20 years old and I am looking for a penpal… 

Tags: penpal, kpop penpal, kpop

***

Bang Chan was definitely intrigued by this. He never had a penpal before and what better than someone who didn’t know and never will know who he is. So, he did it. He messaged that person and made sure she knew that he was a safe person to write to. He didn’t want her to give her address to random strangers. But wait, is it just a letter? He looked for ideas and decided on sending her a care package with a few Korean things like snacks, face masks and some cute stationary for her to keep. This was probably the only time he was going to send it anyway. Before he sent it, he made sure to put a fake name on his dorm address. From her tumblr page he knew that she had no idea who they were. She was more into RnB and older generations. 

***

Arizona dozed off in her music history class, as always. “Why do I need a degree?” She thought. It’s just a piece of paper and a lot of debt. Eventually, her class finished and she did what she does every single Friday, look for her best friend Nick, sit in their local coffee shop, start their homework and plan their next week. They did that, every single Friday. 

“Any luck yet” Nick asked as edited his class notes. 

“Yeah! I got one from Australia on Monday and one from Tennessee on Wednesday!” Arizona was ecstatic when she saw the letters in her mailbox. She read them twice and she put the letters and everything in a beautiful velvet box her mother used to have. The tea she received from her Aussie penpal? She drank it.

“I really don’t know how you do it”. 

“Do what?”

“Have the patience to write letters and decorate them”. She laughed. 

“You just have to be into it. Just like you’re into English, unlike me”.

After a good 2 hours they both headed home. Arizona left her bag in the living room and headed over to the kitchen to help her mother make dinner. 

“Honey, did you order anything?” Her mother asked. 

“Not that I know of. Why?” Her mother, Clara, nodded her head towards the kitchen table where a box sat. It was a decent sized box. Did she order something? She sat down at the table and examined the box. It did come from Asia for sure because of the mailing information but she was sure she didn’t order anything. Maybe she accidentally clicked order on yesstyle the last time she was on the site. She looked at the sender’s name: Bang Jin Ho. Who was that? Then she remembered the conversation she had with someone from South Korea on Tumblr. ‘Oh shit!’ She thought. 

“Mom, I’ll be right back!” She grabbed the box and ran to her room. Her heart was beating fast. She didn’t think he would send her something, maybe a letter, but a big box? She jumped on her bed and began to open it. AGH! She couldn’t. She was too excited. 

‘Breathe Arizona. Breathe.’ She took a deep breath and finally opened the box. Shocked is a small word for what she felt. 

‘’Did I order a Korean subscription box?” She said out loud. A letter in a blue envelope was the first thing she noticed but, she wanted to save the letter for last so she set it aside. 

The first thing she saw was a couple of face masks, Korean face masks. Let me say this again. Korean face masks. Do you know how much these cost online + shipping or in the store? Like 5 dollars each! Anyway she was extremely surprised, there was also a box of.. tea? She obviously couldn’t read Korean. There were two packets of dried seaweed. ‘Oh! I have to try that.’ There was also a mug…. Arizona almost fainted. It was a pink mug that said Girls Generation. Her favorite gg’s! There are more things?! ‘How much money did he spend?’ She thought. There were 3 packs of ramen with different flavors and level of spiciness and oh my lord… so much stationary. ‘Did he buy the whole store?’ 

Her hands dropped onto her lap as she stared towards the wall. He did this for her. Shipping must have been expensive as hell. She suddenly felt bad. What if he was in a tight spot and needed the money? Did she seem very eager to know about his culture? Oh no. What is he was a sugar daddy?! She didn’t want one! She shook the image out of her head to keep focusing on her task. There were two things left; a pair of bamboo chopsticks and a beautiful bookmark with a golden temple which she immediately put in the book she was currently reading. 

She was touched, extremely touched. She put everything back with care and grabbed the letter. Her name was written in neat handwriting. 

Dear Arizona, I have to be really honest with you. I’ve never really written a letter before, much less a handwritten on. So you’re the lucky first. I hope this package doesn’t have any problems getting to you. I also hope you liked everything in it. As you may know, I am from South Korea! These are some things from here that I really hope you like. The tea that is inside is Yuja-cha tea, you just stir it in hot water. I know you like SNSD so I included the mug. Oh! I wish I could’ve sent you Soju but I don’t think customs would’ve liked that and I know the legal age in America is 21. 

As you also know, my name is Jinho. I am 20 years old and I love music and dancing. I grew up in Australia but moved to Korea because of my dad’s job. I am new to the whole penpaling thing so I really don’t know what else to write about. I do want to recommend you some songs. I know you don’t listen to a lot of newer kpop but here are the songs that I personally like: 

Likey by Twice

Be Lazy by Day 6

You Are by Got7

Matryoshka  by 3racha (they are soundcloud rappers. I recently discovered them and they’re really good)

I think I’ll end this here. I live in a rented house with a couple of my friends and we are going out to dinner as a group and they are being extremely noisy and I should get ready. I uh, should go. Bye! I hope you have a lovely day and days until you hear from me again. That is if I hear from you again. It was nice writing to you! Bye!

Jinho. 

Arizona was smiling ear to ear. Again, she really didn’t expect this gesture. She made a mental note to write down a list in order to send him a few things and to pick up a few more shifts at work. Shipping will be expensive as hell but it’s the least she could do.

*

*

*

*

Hey guys this is chapter 1. It’s not that great so I hope you like it. I don’t know how many chapters it will be but I do know that it’s going to be a quick and short story. 

[microwaved-timmies]

Diseased (Stiles Stilinski) - 1. Body Hunting Gone Wrong

Author: @microwaved-timmies​

Masterlist

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Cassie Erikkson (OC)

Word Count: 2593

Warnings: blood, mention of dead bodies, murders

Author’s Note: I originally started this on Wattpad like 3 years ago and just stopped. Now, it’s posted on my wattpad account (where future chapters will be posted first) and I’m just hoping that I get more people to enjoy the character that I created. I think she’s pretty great :) (the amount of work it took to post this on the Tumblr mobile app is unbelievable)

(Wattpad is re-writen)

Description: Description: Being a teenager is hard; all the hormones and drama left a teenager tired and worn out before they even become adults. The life of teenager, Cassie Eriksson was filled with hormones and drama, with the added kick of medications and doctor's visits. Living the life of someone with cystic fibrosis was hard enough on young Cassie, but adding on the added stress of being a teenage girl left her mentally exhausted. But, as she grew up with being told to be strong, Cassie powered through with barely enough wit to spare. With her best friends, Scott and Stiles, she gets through the first year of High School. Only with Stiles' slightly-obsessive crush on Lydia Martin, Scott's obsession with lacrosse, and her own genetic problems. The second year of High School was when it got interesting. With Scott's mystical night in the woods, the incredible rise in murder cases in Beacon Hills, and Cassie's own unknown past shockingly taking the spotlight, Cassie doesn't know what to do. The only thing she does know for certain is that her disease might not be the thing that kills her.

"When I walk in the spot, this is what I see. Everybody stops and they staring at--"

"What are you doing?"

I screamed in terror, turning off the music that was blasting throughout my room, and probably my entire house. I turn to my open window to see my friend, Stiles, trying to climb through my open window, but it seemed to be a strikingly difficult task. His pale arms and legs frailed around as he tried to wiggle through my small window.

That was when I decided to help him. I grabbed his left arm and began to pull him through the window.

"You know, we do have a front door," I told him after the gruelling effort of getting him through the window. "I didn't think the window would be that hard." He replied as he stared at the window in disbelief. We stood in the middle of my bedroom, he dressed and staring at the window and me in my 'Hello Kitty' pyjamas and purple bathrobe. 

"Any particular reason why you had the desire to climb through my window, Stiles?"

"Well, I listened in on my--" He started before looking down on my attire for the night. "Why are you wearing pyjamas?" Stiles asked with slight confusion. I felt a slight embarrassment, but that was for the fact that I still owned 'Hello Kitty' pyjamas.

"I don't know Stiles, why would I be wearing sleepwear at night?" My words were laced with sarcasm, as I stared at him as he glared at me.

"Well, sorry 'Little Miss Sarcasm'. Get dressed and meet me outside." Stiles grumbled as he began to make his way back to the window.

"Stiles, Stiles, we do have a door."

***

We had gotten to Scott's house quickly, my house is only a few blocks away; close to the outskirts of town. Stiles had told me on the way there as to why exactly we were waking Scott up in the middle of the night, just a few hours before the first day of sophomore year. Stiles was climbing the roof, hoping to climb into Scott's bedroom.

I heard the sound of creaking footsteps on the wooden deck. I felt my body fill with slight panic as I stood outside in the dead of night. Thorns scraped against my face and neck as I scrambled into the bushes next to the railing. I heard screaming from above, I just hoped one of the screams was Scott. I was not staying in this bush for the night.

"Stiles, what the hell are you doing?!" I heard Scott's distinctive voice from above me, I could just imagine Stiles hanging from the rafters, I just wished he wouldn't fall into the bushes with me.

"You weren't answering your phone! Why do you have a bat?" That was Stiles, his voice was confused, but I would have been to if my friend almost whacked me with a baseball bat. "I thought you were a predator ." Scott blurted. I tried to wrestle my way out of the bush, but my hair and clothes were stuck on the thorns and vines. My backpack, on the other hand, was basically mating with the thing.

I heard rustling a few feet in front of my feet, it stopped after a few seconds. It's just my imagination. Right? Man, I really need to get out of this bush.

"A pre - I - wha - look, I know it's late, but you gotta hear this. I saw my dad leave 20 minutes ago. Dispatch called. They're bringing in every officer from the Beacon Department, and even State Police," Stiles said, informing Scott of why we showed up in the middle of the night. I've begun to regret my decision to come along, and I think I'll regret it even more in the morning. "For what?" Scott asked with confusion. We barely get cases that involve the Beacon Department, let alone State Police.

"Two joggers found a body in the woods."

I heard a thud on the outside of the bush that seemed to love me just a little too much or just my backpack. "A dead body?" Was Scott's stupid reply. I swear, he doesn't think before he speaks. When I get out of here, I'm going to stuff him in this bush.

"No, a body of water. Yes, dumbass, a dead body." Stiles' words dripped with sarcasm. "You mean like, murdered?" Scott questioned. Whatever was in the bushes with me, began to move again, this time quicker and closer to where I was. I could feel my body fill with slight panic, whatever the thing was, it didn't seem to enjoy my company.

'It's more scared of you than you are of it,' I thought, but even as I chanted it in my head, my body filled with more fright the more the animal moved. It was at my side now, but I couldn't move my head to look in the dark, my hair in so many tangles I couldn't even move my head.

"Cassie, where are you?" Stiles questioned the area around him, not knowing that he should have been checking the vegetation surrounding Scott's house. Come to think of it, it's not that unreasonable that I hid in the bushes; I'm a nature-lover at heart, even though my thumb is not the slightest bit green. My grandmother had gotten me a few plants one time, let's just say their deaths were mysterious.

"Down here!" I shouted, "I'm in the bush!" I heard rustling beside me. "Hurry, I don't think I'm alone down here!" The rustling got louder until a felt something breath near my hand. I felt a hand grab the top of my shoulder, and pull. My body was pulled through the bush, branches and spiderwebs coming in contact with my face.

I think I swallowed a few...

Cold air rushed toward my face the moment my face came out of the bush. I saw both Scott and Stiles standing before me, Stiles with his hand still gripping my shoulder. I walked out of the bush, or at least tried to on my own; I had to grip both Scott and Stiles, so I didn't lose my footing and tumble back into the dark abyss that was the bush.

Once I was fully out of the bush, Stiles' hand came closer to my head, and out of instinct, the top half of my body began to lean to the side. The same thing happened when we were little kids; Stiles' hand got closer to my head and I didn't move. His plan at that time was to steal my hair elastic.

I leaned too much and my entire body became unbalanced, resulting in me laying on my back in the grass. Stiles was too slow to catch himself from falling. Stiles fell and his leg ended up stabbing me in my own leg, with his hands on either side of my face. I felt the burn of my cheeks-they were probably fire truck red by now-Stiles' cheeks were turning from their pale state to pink, to red in a matter of seconds. I could smell his cologne; it had a musky smell to it. It reminded me of the wilderness of the summer camp my Grandmother would send me to every summer.

My face contorted into pain every few seconds. "You had branches in your hair," Stiles whispered to me, he shifted and put more weight on the leg that was stabbing me. My face contorted into pain again, this time with an "ow!" at the end. He immediately moved off of me, as he asked if I was okay. I told him I was fine. It's not like he basically stepped on me.

"Come on, lovebirds. Aren't we going body hunting?" Scott, being the annoying best friend that he is, said as he walked by us to Stiles' jeep.

***

The ride to the reserve was peaceful and relaxing almost, even though Scott had stuck me in the back. Somehow, Scott just couldn't think of sitting in the backseat. It was like he was a king and the front seat was his throne.

I sat in the middle of the backseat and leaned forward to hear whatever they said. I noticed my backpack had twigs and leaves stuck in it; making it look like it had been surviving in the jungle for years. I was surprised it didn't carry a spear or have a beard.

The jeep stopped suddenly, ending in a jolt. We were at the Reserve now, it was pitch black and felt like the place where you would find a dead body, ironic that that was the reason we were here, to begin with.

"We're seriously doing this?" Scott questioned, as we set foot into the forest of tall trees and mud. The woods were dark, but even in the pitch darkness, the trees cast shadows over everything. The shadows added a certain element that could be felt in your bones.

"You're the one always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town," Stiles replied to Scott, as we passed trees and bushes.

"Come on, Scott, this is supposed to be fun. If you're going to have your typical party-pooper attitude, why don't you wait in the jeep?" I said as I walked past Scott, bumping his arm as I did. Scott rolled his eyes at my words; he never appreciated my mind-blowing genius.

He's going to regret that if I get killed in these woods. Or by my disease. My disease could definitely kill me at any time. I'd prefer it if it wasn't today.

"I was trying to get a good night's sleep before practise tomorrow," Scott said, choosing to ignore my words. Scott could barely run from one side of the field, let alone catch the ball. But he dreamt big, and I didn't have the heart to tell him the truth.

Yet.

"Right, 'cause sitting on the bench is such a gruelling effort."

"Your ass must get a great workout."

Scott glared at us, or I'm pretty sure he was. It sounds like something he would do. The dark that wrapped around us like a blanket limited my vision to only a few feet in front of me.

"No," Scott glared at me in the dark. I smiled at him, acting like I didn't just insult his ego. "Because I'm playing this year. In fact, I'm making first line."

I continued to walk behind them; following the flashlight Stiles was holding so I didn't wander into the woods.

Where a murder just happened.

"Hey, that's the spirit. Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one."

I snorted uncontrollably; I could almost feel Scott's annoyance. His glare made me stop my snorting, but I couldn't keep a straight face. We walked for a bit in silence, our shoes crunching over the leaves. "Just out of curiosity," Scott said, "which half of the body are we looking for?"

We kept walking, Stiles a couple of steps in front of Scott and I. "Huh, I didn't even think of that."

"You've got to be kidding me." I sighed in annoyance; of course, Stiles didn't check for finer details.

"And, uh, what if whoever killed the body is still out here?"

"Also something I didn't think about."

I stared at Stiles' back in disbelief; but I really shouldn't be, he does this thing all the time. One time, he picked up someone else's backpack (thinking it was mine) and carried it around for 20 minutes, even though I was wearing mine.

"So what your saying is," I started, "we're going to get murdered out here because we stupidly decided to go body hunting.". We were walking up a small hill, Scott beginning to have an asthma attack.

"It's comforting to know that you planned this up with your usual attention to details," Scott said, panting and struggling to breathe. He got his inhaler out as we walked together and Stiles answered with a cheerful, "I know!".

Stiles was up ahead, darting through the trees, the flashlight slowly leaving my sight. Scott and I hurried to catch up. The forest was dark and the leaves were slippery. The raindrops fell on my head and down the back of my sweater, causing me to shiver. Scott panted and wheezed beside me. Stiles was laying on his stomach at the top of the hill, Scott and I dropped down and joined him. Rain dropped on my head and right through the sweater I was wearing. Why did I decide to go body hunting in the woods? At night? In the rain? A murderer on the loose? I should really start asking questions before I do stupid things. Especially with Stiles.

The police officers were in view from where we were. Stiles stumbled up and ran through the trees, leaving Scott and me in the dust.

"Wait!" Scott shouted.

"Stiles, no!" I yelled. Scott and I stumbled up and ran after Stiles. I'm surprised the police didn't hear our dog-like panting. My small structure was a disadvantage when it came to catching up to Stiles. My track experience, however, allowed me to get a couple of feet ahead of Scott. I was nearing Stiles and I watched him fall back on to the wet ground. I slide to a stop on the wet leaves and watched as Stiles was caught by Sheriff Stilinski and a police dog. I caught Scott's hand and pulled him into the trees to hide.

If I come home with the police one more time, I might get killed by grandma.

Scott and I were hiding behind trees as the Sheriff interrogated Stiles. "So where are your usual partners in crime?" Sheriff Stilinski asked as he moved his flashlight in the dark. I sucked in a breath, even though I highly doubt they could hear my breathing.

They'd be more likely to catch Scott due to heavy breathing. The dude sounded like a dog.

"Who, Scott and Cassie? They're both at home... sleeping. They both wanted to get a good night's sleep before the first day of school tomorrow," Stiles started nervously, "there's just me... in the woods..." My nose started to itch and my eyes began to water. No, no, no...

A loud sneeze went through the small clearing we were in. I froze and hoped that maybe, just maybe, it didn't sound like a sneeze. Judging by the look, I mean glare, Scott was sending me, I was not walking out of here without a police officer.

And that I was most likely dead.

"...alone" I heard Stiles finish softly as he too, awaited my fate.

"Cassie, you out there?" Sheriff Stilinski said as flashlights turned in my direction. I knew I had to reveal myself, but maybe if I wait long enough they'll forget. "Cassie, come out,". I walked out from behind my tree into my spotlight.

"Hel--why is it so bright?!" I yelled as I shielded my eyes. It was a spotlight, and it hurt. A lot.

"Well, I'm gonna walk both of you back to your car," Stilinski said, grasping our shoulders, "and you and I are gonna have a discussion about something called violation of privacy." he directed at Stiles.

The walk to the Jeep was silent and awkward. I was hoping that my grandmother wouldn't be involved, that Sheriff Stilinski would let this one slide.

"I'm hoping my grandma can stay out of this one," I suggested.

"No, I am. I have her on speed dial."

"I expected nothing else."

[salty-ironstrange-shipper]

Ironstrange Kinktober

Day 20: Dirty Talk

**NSFW warning since tumblr won’t let me tag it

“What are you doing?” Rhodey asked, leaning over to look at Tony’s phone.

Tony switched the screen before he could see it. “Just checking something.”

The screen showed a document for the new amendments to the Accords. Rhodey eyed him suspiciously before sitting back and ignoring him.

Tony kept his expression blank as he reopened his messages. There were three new texts from Stephen.

I'm fucking myself on the new toy you made me.

It's so thick, I feel like I'm being split open.

Do you want to see?

Without waiting for Tony to reply, Stephen sent him a picture. Stephen was laying spread out on their bed, naked and hard. Friday must have taken and sent the picture, because his hands were occupied, one positioning the thick red-and-gold toy inside him and the other holding one of Tony's shirts to his nose.

You smell so good. Makes me wish I were with you now.

I bet you're hard. Probably palming yourself through your pants. Wish I were on my knees in front of you, choking on your dick while fucking myself on your toy.

Would you come on my face in front of everyone? Make me lick it up in front of them?

No, Tony texted when no one was looking. I don't want to share you with them. You're just for me to see.

Do you want to see me now?

Sadly, no. Ross is still suspicious about the last time you showed up.

Oh. So you're just going to sit there, not even able to touch yourself enough, your cock leaking so much precome it soaks through your boxers, and think about me?

Tony was reminded of why he both loved and hated Stephen. Yes.

Poor baby. Don't worry. When you're done, you can fuck me into the floor at home. It'll be easy. My hole is already loose and open for you. I can just lay down and let you do whatever you want to me . . . any ideas?

A few.

. . . Care to share with the class? Might be enough to push me over the edge.

Tony could picture it — Stephen's quivering hole around an almost too big toy, his legs and stomach covered in his own release. Smiling when he rolled over on his stomach and held his ass open for Tony's cock.

Nothing too inventive. Tying you to the bed and using your throat. Choking you to the brink of unconsciousness and pulling back at just the right moment.

Why stop at the edge? I wouldn’t mind if you fucked me when I blacked out. I’d come to with your cock in my ass, already close

It took a moment for Stephen to send another text. Or you could fuck my mouth and stuff a toy in my hole one of those thick ones that fill me up

One of the vibrators?

Of course. Wasn't it you who said that a normal dildo is just a vibrator that doesn't vibrate?

Tony smiled, surprised that he remembered that. I'm gonna put you on my com. I want to hear you come. Tony checked to make sure no one was tuned to the com and that they wouldn’t hear it if someone spoke. No one did. Go.

Tony’s earpiece flicked to life. His cock jumped when he heard Stephen, whimpering pathetically. Tony could just see him lying on the bed with his legs spread for him, just for him, desperately fucking himself on a dildo. Probably one of the big ones if he knew Stephen. Big and thick and—

“—long,” Stephen moaned, breath hitching. “Oh, Jesus, Tony, I'm so open right now. You could pull this toy out of me and just slide in effortlessly. Fuck, I want you to. Want you so bad Tony, want you here now so you can fuck me till I scream, screaming so loud they hear me at SHIELD, hear how good you make me feel, always so fucking good, oh fuck, Tony—” Stephen cut himself off, his voice devolving into incoherent moans and pants as he started to come, eventually morphing into a high-pitched keen. Tony imagined him arching his back off the bed as cum spurted over his stomach and thighs, painting him. If he were there he'd lick it up before shoving his cock into Stephen's loose hole and fuck him until Stephen cried from how sensitive he was.

Unfortunately, he was at SHIELD. Pretending to pay attention to a really boring meeting

A/N: I’m going to finish this even if I literally die and have to bring myself back. But I’m never doing anything like this again afterward.

Read on AO3 | Buy me a Coffee

[razz-tfs]

Dicked Down

a/n: my first standalone tf story, but part of a larger universe i hope to expand upon. hope you enjoy the odd kinks! and let me know what you think

I’ve been trying to share my story for a while now, but it’s impossible to find a place to begin, and it’s not like it’s ending any time soon. Razz suggested that instead of trying to nail it down in one linear story, I should just share our adventures. Eventually I’ll probably fill in the details, but sometimes they just aren’t as important, you know?

Yesterday we revisited my tiny cock kink. Razzor is eager to engage in any type of transformation, and every so often I land back on being dominated, getting pounded down while my useless, tiny cock nub is left ignored. Normally I have a respectable seven-incher, but “normal” seems to mean very little with a demon like Razz.

Razzor has been in my life for a few months now, and it’s been a revolutionary experience. Personally I feel like the details are boring, but our sex games are where the fun comes in. My current “default” body is relatively tall, around 6’2”, and solidly muscled. I also enjoy a good chest of hair that accents my physique. But any of that can change if it strikes our fancy.

This time, Razz wanted to make it a bit of a game. Instead of a quick fuck with a shrunken cock, he sat down on the bed where I had been relaxing and pulled out the phone I got him recently. He thumbed over to open an app I hadn’t seen before.

“This will let me transfer cock size between us whenever I want,” he told me, leaning against me and showing the screen. “In fact, whenever I take some of your dick, you’ll have some other changes too. Like your ass might get bigger, or you might beg to be filled with come.” I smiled. I loved when Razz blended a couple of different quirks together.

“And remember,” he continued, “your dick size goes right to me.” I eyed the massive meat between his bare thighs, already eight inches soft, and imagined transferring my size to him. I gave a shudder just thinking about it.

“Ah, ah, honey. Only I get to decide when you get dicked down. Are you already desperate to give away your cock?” He pulled the phone away, like keeping a toy from a child. (Which was ironic, given that my muscled body had two inches and about 20 pounds on my more toned lover.)

“Yes, Razz, yes.” I couldn’t keep my voice from coming out breathy as I turned into his chest and held him. This app was a way hotter idea than I would’ve come up with. “Take an inch now! I’m not using it.”

The casual observer might have objected to that line. Razz’s little idea had me rock solid in my loose gym shorts, the tip of my (currently) above-average dick just sticking out and grazing the bottom of my tank top. But my man knew that I was more eager to see my length dwindling down than fuck anyone tonight.

“I’ll give you just a taste, love,” he said with a wink, and fiddled with his phone.

I gasped, not in surprise so much as lust, as my dick jolted and briefly contracted. I’d wager Razz only took about a half inch, knowing that teasing me would drive me wild. Just enough that my waistband could hide it once more.

I hastily reached for my pants, eager to rip them off and see my ever-so-slightly smaller package, but with a quick thought I instead looked beside me on the bed to Razz, eager to watch his changes. He had been chubbing up, so the size I gave him was lost in the process, but once he was hard I saw some girth and a bit of length had definitely been added.

Already horned up, the extra nudge from the app sent me over the edge easily. I rolled over and scooted around on the bed to dive into Razz’s crotch. Right away I was sucking his now 11-inch monster with little difficulty. If there’s one thing I’ve learned well, it’s accommodating many varied sizes.

As I bobbed up and down, I arched a fractionally-larger ass into the air. Razz, emboldened that I had taken so quickly to the app, decided not to wait any longer. He grabbed his phone and stole, with no warning, a full two inches of my prized cock.

The effects were astounding.

All at once, I felt a rush of sensory input. My primary focus was on the cock I was swirling in my skilled mouth, so I certainly noticed it surge beyond a foot in length, directly into the back of my throat. I moaned around it, grabbing at the growing base.

However, I also felt the thrill of my dick pulling into itself, contracting and sliding against the fabric to a rock solid 4.5 inches in length, shorter than I had been soft. I was now tenting my shorts instead of sticking up into the waistband.

As my hands reached toward my pants to feel the change, I found myself instead removing them, and reaching behind to play with my ass. This time the growth was substantial, and I already had a respectable bubble butt to start. My ass now was simply big, deserving of every “juicy” compliment it would be sure to earn. But even more to that point, when I plunged my fingers between the plump cheeks, I found my ass to be soaking wet.

“Oh fuck yeah,” Razz remarked as I pulled out my now-lubed fingers. “I see some of my secret additions are working too.” Cock still in mouth, I simply groaned in appreciation.

I glanced down at my dick, now that my shorts were out of the way. It was just like mine should be, but mini-size. My thighs looked absolutely amazing next to the smaller dick, too.

“I figured since you would be so desperate to be filled, you’d need a little help… accommodating me.” Razz caught my eye as I looked up at him. I hoped my look conveyed both how much I loved him, but also how hot this was to play out.

“You’re so sexy like this,” my lover said, reading my silent arousal. “Fucking whoring yourself out on my monster cock, leaving your own pitiful stick ignored.” Razz was fantastic at dirty talk, and it always got me riled up. He was right, the foot of meat I was swallowing was certainly a monster, and mine was truly pitiful in comparison.

I glanced down again at my shrunken dick, shivering with pleasure as I saw it jerking itself in place in time with my deep throating. I noticed my balls had shrunken a little as well, proportionally.

I reached back into my inflated ass, this time adding in a third finger as I loosened my now-sloppy hole. I moaned once more around Razz’s beautiful behemoth, unable to articulate more as I sucked and licked and worshipped it. I picked up the pace, and I reminded myself that I was pleasuring two and a half inches of my own cock, stolen by the man I loved. Plunging a fourth finger deep into my ass and shoving the massive dick down my throat, I lurched forward and pushed Razz and myself over the edge — him coming deeply into me, and myself barely dribbling over my own thigh. I felt more relief accepting his load than I did releasing my own.

I came down from my high, and extricated myself from Razz’s dick. I wiped my mouth in satisfaction and gave a dopey smile to my demonic lover. The cheeky smirk I saw on his face told me this little ride wasn’t quite over.

“So, what next?” I asked, ready to go again. My ass was still wet, and I was eager to try stretching it around Razz’s new cock.

“Well I’ve got to go set up your Tumblr since you always seem to get distracted halfway through,” Razz said as he stood up from the bed. “I’m sure you’ll find ways to pass the time.”

And with that, Razz walked out of our bedroom along with a third of my cock. What I had left softened to less than three inches as I sat up on my pumped-up ass. I marveled at my shrunken state, never really spending much time soft with a smaller dick in any of our previous sessions. It looked almost adorable nestled between my thick and powerful thighs, a stark contrast to my otherwise stereotypically masculine body.

Usually our transformation games have a definite beginning and end, but this time I wasn’t really sure when I’d be getting my length back. We usually toyed around with me going down to about this size, sometimes hard and sometimes staying pitifully soft, unable to even ejaculate. But by this point I’m used to Razz’s transformations, and I’m never anxious to end any particular fantasy, except when I have a new idea for the next one. I trust him completely, and we’ve always immediately ended anything I didn’t enjoy. (While I like the experience of changing to be drawn out, Razz can do things instantaneously when he needs to.)

After relaxing from that hot blow job, I wanted to check out my ass a little more. I had been so fixated on my smaller cock, I hadn’t realized that I had the perfect way to show off both — my jockstrap. As I slid the jet black fabric up my legs, I felt it settle into place around my engorged glutes. The pouch in front was comically under-filled compared to my more common 5-7 inch soft range. While my butt stretched the straps out, my 3-inch dick and smaller balls left only a subtle dent in the front.

After a few minutes of modeling myself and taking a few pictures, I changed into my favorite tiny pink thong. This one was designed with a mini-cock in mind. The thin strip of fabric slipped right between my pillowy cheeks as the tiny triangle in front acted as an appropriately-sized pouch. This fabric was thin enough to show every outline and shape of my package. I turned in the mirror to see how the back of the thong completely disappeared into my blown-up ass.

Right at that moment, I felt a shock. My eyes shot to my crotch and I watched in rapture as my little softie shrank further, down to two inches soft, where even in this ridiculous thong it was starting to get tough to see. Everything had gone with it proportionally — my balls had pulled tightly against my dwindling dick. Shit. I knew Razz would manage to surprise me again!

Immediately, I reached into my thong and realized, wildly enough, that it was the first time I was using my hands on my own cock in hours. I pumped my cocklet a few times, using just a few fingers to poke around in the fabric, until it hardened a bit and pushed to 3 inches long. Now that it was “stretching” the pouch once more, I could appreciate how small it had gotten. The sight drove me wild, knowing that Razz had now stolen 4 inches of my hard length. I abandoned the useless dick and dove for my bedside table, where I kept a handy dildo. “Be prepared” is the Scout’s motto, after all.

I was luckily able to use my own ass lube to get things going, after pushing the sopping wet string of the thong aside. In no time I was lying back on my bed, working the dildo into my hungry hole. I pounded in and out of my ever-growing ass, stimulating my prostate with the toy until I shuddered in a dry orgasm. Well, I say dry, but my self-lubing asshole was anything but.

I was basking in the afterglow, petting my still-hard cock (could I still call it a cock at this size?) through the thong, when I felt that familiar jolt. Excitedly, I looked down to my crotch to see how much more I’d lose. The tingling managed to take yet another inch in length, bringing me down to just two inches again, but this time while hard. I flushed in a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment by seeing my “endowment” not able to make a respectable bulge in the tiny thong’s pouch. Men my size would usually stretch this thing right off their bodies, but my dicklet couldn’t even fill it.

The exhilaration of shrinking almost distracted me from my growing ass. But this time, my hole was positively quivering with need. I grabbed the messy dildo and slammed it back into my waiting hole. My hand pounded the dildo harder into my even-fatter ass as I had a lucid thought.

I realized, stupidly, that at that point Razz’s own cock must be truly monstrous. I was moaning and shaking with need on the bed, when my dick jolted down another half inch. There was barely a visible bulge at this point, and the thong is skin tight. I realized that the dildo was just a sad facsimile for what I really needed then. I needed Razz.

I left the dildo where it was so I wouldn’t be empty. My stupidly huge cheeks bulged around it, keeping it held in place. I laughed when I realized I still had the thong on, but I really loved seeing how this skin tight outfit showed off my dicklet. There was no mistaking exactly how little I was packing.

When I got up out of the bed, a shifting weight on my chest brought my attention to my pecs, which had apparently gotten bloated up along with my ass during one of the last transfers. I became distracted from my quest for Razz’s dick, and grabbed my engorged nipples, groaning at a sensation that rivaled stroking two dicks at once. (And my opinion on the matter should be trusted.) My nipples had really fattened and were even sticking out. Shit, my nipples could almost rival my cock nub, but that’s not much of a challenge.

As I twisted them together, I felt an indescribable pleasure at the same, delirious moment that Razz decided to take another half inch from my nub of a dick. My former glory could pass as a fold in the fabric of this thong as it dwindled down to a single inch. My ass bulged around the dildo, my tits pumped a bit more, and my urgent need for Razz finally put my legs into motion. I hurried down the hall, calling for my lover.

“Please, please fill me, Razz! I need your cock. My cock you stole from me. I need you to really fill me up!”

My brain was too addled by lust to string together anything more than begging. One of my hands was still teasing a nipple as I, at last, reached Razz.

His cock was beastly, looking around 10 inches soft, maybe a bit longer. And what was even more astounding was its massive girth and the low-hanging balls resting beneath. Razz was lounging proudly across our couch, still naked, with his half-stolen equipment trapped between his legs. When clearly it was made to fill my hole.

“Oh, honey,” Razz said, looking up from his phone as if he were just noticing that I had entered the room, as if he hadn’t heard my moaning pleas. “You’re covered up? I want to see what a pathetic nub you have left.” He winked, and my knees went weak even as he mocked my microscopic dick.

I quickly went over and joined him on the couch. As I crawled across his lean body, I dragged my beefy tits against his skin, once more teasing my nipples. I shook my ass and jostled the dildo around, bringing Razz’s attention to the toy.

“Ah, so this is what kept you from finding me sooner,” he said, as he removed the thong from around the dildo. He then grabbed the toy and pounded it into my ass a few times. “I thought I was going to have to take the whole thing to get you to come out here.”

At that idea, I came instantly. Well, the orgasm felt like coming, at least. My nub barely got out a drop of pre for the event, but my ass spasmed wildly against the dildo and my nipples felt like they were on fire.

“Let’s look at what you have left!” Razz announced, and we leaned apart.

I gaped at my crotch. I knew I had lost most of my length, but the one inch nub was truly tiny. I reached to grab it between my thumb and forefinger, and was surprised at how little I felt it.

“I redirected pretty much all of your pleasurable sensation elsewhere in your body.” He slammed the dildo home again and I saw stars.

I dove onto his mouth and kissed him passionately, while grinding my ass back against the fake cock he was still fucking me with. I broke from kissing him just a moment to whine “fill me for real”, unable to really enact any plan myself.

Razz, for his part, was deeply enjoying my obsessive state. He finally began to chub up, though his newly engorged tool took time to get fully hard. He started to grind into my crotch, his massive organ dwarfing my entire package.

I whined again, not caring about anything other than a real, actual cock in my leaking, needy, fucking desperate asshole.

Instead, Razz rolled us around on the couch so that I was laying back, the dildo momentarily left forgotten but still wedged in my ass. He leaned over me and grabbed yet another dildo off the table, a larger one that better approximated his new size. He put it into my hands without much further guidance, and then proceeded to blow my mind by sliding his huge dick against my chest, fucking my pecs-turned-bitch tits. I groaned in satisfaction, feeling around behind him to exchange the silicon dicks. My size donations had really beefed Razz’s dick up to a thrilling girth, so even though he was maybe two inches longer than before, it felt like a massive difference.

My eager hole might have been disappointed at the lack of real cock, but my tits were singing in bliss. As Razz fucked against my chest, pushing them from every angle, my nipples started to tingle. I then felt the bizarre sensation of my nipples leaking… lube? Yeah, it could only be lube. I looked up in wonder at Razz.

He simply grinned, and used his massive cock head to smear the lube around my chest, sliding his slick rod back and forth between my pecs. I couldn’t believe how sensitive my chest was — almost as if I actually was getting fucked. With every pass of his massive dick near my mouth, I would give it a quick lick. It began to leave more and more thick pre behind as Razz’s pace increased. I could feel his ball sack completely overlap my minuscule package as he dragged it back and forth along my crotch.

He reached behind himself, and grabbed the discarded dildo from before. With inhuman dexterity, he managed to continue fucking against my chest while also guiding the first dildo to my ass. My greedy hole was ready for any challenge to prove its mettle, and I grabbed the fake cock and joined it alongside its bigger brother. My wet hole stretched satisfyingly around both cocks, my fat cheeks squeezing the bases together.

As I drove the dildos into me, prepping myself for the real pounding to come, Razz grinded forward and lodged the head of his dick in my mouth. I worked my tongue all over his massive cock, fighting to get as much of it in my mouth as possible. He was positively flowing pre at this point, his engorged (stolen!) balls probably over-producing. The feeling of the length of his thick cock dragging against one of my nipples, while his nut sack covered my tiny dicklet like a blanket, alongside my DP-dildo hammering that was running on auto-pilot, caused me to orgasm yet again. My dick stayed more or less dry, but I gushed around the dildos crammed into my ass, squirted a fresh batch of lube from my nipples, and positively shook in pleasure. I couldn’t articulate anything more sophisticated than a satisfied moan.

Razz was holding out on his own orgasm for the grand finale. He pulled back and away. I was too dazed to give that any mind. I don’t think even Razz at his most teasing would have resisted fucking me at that point, as I was completely gone and certain to be useless until I got a good fucking out.

Right on cue, Razz pulled me up and turned me around, bringing my dildo-filled ass around to his huge, delicious, real, actual cock. He feigned carelessness as he reached in between my cheeks, pulled out the toys, and dropped them on the couch. Then he finally readied his glorious manhood. His dick was almost literally 50% mine at this point, as I glanced down at my pitiful, rock-solid one inch nub. He lined up with my well-stretched hole, and pushed in.

Bliss.

I know sex with Razz is always ecstasy, but the flavor is always unique. I can’t put into words the sensation of his massive tool widening me as much as two cocks had. He pushed in slowly but steadily, and I couldn’t believe there was more, inch after inch.

After an agonizing, tortuously delicious entry, I felt Razz, impossibly, bottom out against me. Usually his balls would be slapping into mine at this point, but my almost-nonexistent nut sack wasn’t coming close.

As my need grew, I felt myself lubing Razz up while he increased the pace. He reached around and started toying with my nipples, making them leak again.

“So baby, how do you like your new tits? They give off a special kind of milk that I find more practical.” Razz loved making it all the realer by saying it out loud. He reached down further to my crotch.

“You know, this baby dick isn’t even doing much for you any more, is it?”

“No!” I managed to wail between my heavy pants. “Take it! It’s yours!”

“You’re always so generous, Derek.”

Razz brought his cell phone around in front of me. He didn’t even stop fucking my ass as he expertly navigated the app. There it was. A percentage bar of how much cock Razz had stolen from me. By mass, Razz had taken 90% of my package. He simply tapped an arrow a few times, and changed that to 95%.

A change in five percent, from my current perspective, was half of what I had left. Enraptured, I watched my rock solid nub truly contract, shrinking down under half an inch long. My balls were completely gone. I was so caught up in my dick, I barely even noticed my tits swell and my ass push harder against Razz’s length.

“There. Look at you, honey,” Razz said as my last change came to a halt. “Almost completely cockless. Just a little useless nub.” I whined in pleasure. “You gave it all,” he grunted, “to me.”

And then I felt his dick jump in size. It didn’t feel proportional to the size he had just stolen, but I wasn’t about to complain when I felt that satisfying stretch.

“I guess you could say yours is still hard, but shit, it’s not even much of a dick at this point.” He grabbed at the nub, but there wasn’t a lot to hold onto.

I couldn’t really disagree. I couldn’t care less about my clit in terms of pleasure. I was milking everything I could out of Razz and I hadn’t even noticed my own hand had been playing with a nipple for who knows how long. Who needed a dick when I had these beefy tits or this sloppy cunt?

Fuck. Cunt? Did I really just call my pussy a cunt? Holy shit. Wait, did I think clit earlier?

Razz interrupted this train of thought. “So the last special change was a vocab mixup. I can undo it if you want.”

I considered it a moment, but figured what the hell and shook my head. “Though,” I tried to snark between his thrusts, “if you had wanted to fuck a pussy,” thrust, “you could’ve just given me one of those instead.”

“In the end, I just wanted to hear you insult your own pathetic nub.” Razz punctuated the thought with a particularly deep thrust. I moaned like the slut I was and pushed back into him.

“Yeah?” I asked. “Well I know this little clit is useless. Hell, it’s not even much of a clit. Why would I need something like that when I can just give it all to you and you can fuck me with it?”

“Oh?” Razz pretended to be surprised, and showed me the app again. “So why don’t you give me the rest of it? Your whole package. Since you aren’t using it.”

I grabbed both of my over-sensitive nipples and bounced on Razz’s monster cock. I hadn’t really thought about it, but feeling around on top of him he had to be over 14 inches long at this point. I felt proud knowing that my dick contributed to this masterpiece. I knew I needed a more fuckable ass, more fuckable titties, anything and everything I could get from giving away what little cock I had left. 5% really wasn’t that much to lose at this point, anyway.

“Yes, yes Razz. Take it all!” I dreamed of how it would feel.

“Oh no, babe. I won’t take it from you. You can give it and I’ll accept it, but you have to be the one to do it.” Razz knew me so well. Keep control away and then give it back to me right at the end, right when I really didn’t have a choice. I had to know the feeling, if not today then the next time we tried this fantasy. Even clear-headed I would’ve probably made the same decision.

I swiped over to my slider and dragged it down to 99%. I wanted to feel one last moment from both sides. I watched in pure pleasure as my nub pulled almost entirely into my body. I basically had a little miniature dickhead, and that was it. I knew it served no purpose whatsoever, but I still wanted to see what it would look like. Kind of adorable, really. And in another way, absolutely hilarious hidden in the expanse between my powerful thighs and defined waist.

As I looked up from my mini clit, I watched as my tits swelled even further outward. The sensitive and enlarged nipples that sat on them grew ever-so-slightly, and I could even feel their increased sensitivity. One hand shot from the phone to my nip, caressing the supple flesh that far surpassed the size of my nearly nonexistent dick. As I massaged, it began to leak more of the highly-effective lube.

Razz was completely ceaseless in the pounding of my fattened ass. It inflated ever-larger around his dick, which itself grew from my donation. It pushed just a little deeper and stretched just a little wider. I took a steadying breath as Razz pushed into me.

He reached, in jest, for his phone. “Done?” he quipped.

I grunted in panic, and grabbed the phone quickly. With my other hand I pressed against my penis — reduced from 7 full inches when hard, down to less than a dick head. I couldn’t even call it a proper clit. My touch, somehow, seemed to excite it a bit, and I felt a jolt that might have, at one point, passed for a come shot. It barely registered to me as an orgasm. I slid the bar down fully, and gave 100% of my package to Razz.

Razz does like the dramatics.

I was watching, ready to see what my nullified crotch would look like. I had openly talked about my tiny dick fantasies, but we hadn’t really discussed taking away the dick entirely. My only hangups about the idea came from fear about permanence. Fantasies are fun in moments of passion, but I don’t want to get caught actually hating a situation. Trusting Razz lets me experience the impossible, and then feel like a normal person the next day.

In this moment, I was not a normal person. Even given my already-ridiculous proportions, Razz must have decided that hitting 100% deserved a bit of a reward. For both parties. My “last bits” just seemed to count extra.

At first, I was elated to see my smooth crotch. Nothing there, no dick or balls or vagina or anything. It was completely taken away! And it was gifted back to me in the form of the cock slamming into my hungry, slutty cunt.

But elation fell to confused disappointment when my view was obscured. It took a moment to register that my swelling tits now blocked the view of my cockless crotch! I reached up to play with my nipples out of habit and immediately forgave them their intrusion. It felt too good to play with them, sliding around their slick mess.

I did drop one hand, though, and grab the smaller discarded dildo. My mouth was feeling annoyingly empty, and it seemed like it would fit.

All the while, my ass was not to be left out. The original transfers had begun the booty-swelling process, so by now my ass was completely impractical. It would actually take a monster cock like Razz’s to get enough dick into my hole. The round shape was perfectly maintained, probably defying a few laws of physics, or at least asking them to take a short break. The rush of pleasure caused a gush of lube around Razz’s massive tube.

Speaking of, Razz really did want to celebrate taking all of my manhood. His cock jumped wildly inside me, and he seemed to pull out forever before slamming back in. I would have to estimate the massive tool at over 16 inches, and it sure as fuck was solid as steel. I cannot begin to explain the pleasure of my pussy stretching around his growing manhood, knowing that I gave him that virility.

Razz reached around and grabbed the null area between my legs. Free real estate. It actually felt kind of pleasurable, like a phantom tickle I couldn’t reach. I could barely focus on it, though, given the frantic sucking I gave the dildo. I grabbed the larger dildo too and started rubbing it around my messy chest, fucking my tits with the toy.

Razz was clearly pleased with his handiwork. He had gotten an amazing session in and barely changed himself. His dick was bigger, but we had done that before. I was so desperate in my head, though, that I felt crazed. I crammed one dick in my mouth as I slid the other across both slick nipples, shuddering the whole time. Razz had adopted a wildly unpredictable tempo with my ass, which left spurts of lube shooting out around the tight seal. I found myself wishing I had more cock to give so I could be stuffed even fuller.

I rocked back and forth, and Razz started to moan in my ear. I knew he was finally getting close. He and I joined hands in rubbing my flat crotch, trying to stimulate what wasn’t there. Every bit of cock I had was attached to another man, fucking me nearly a foot and a half deep in my wet, stretched-out cunt. My whole torso was slick from the lube dripping from my milky tits.

“I’m there,” he groaned into my ear, shoving himself fully into me, unleashing a wild pleasure as he magicked up another two inches worth of cock to push me and himself over the edge. I dropped the dildo I had left in my mouth and moaned like the dirtiest whore, riding a shockwave of ecstasy as Razz’s 18 inches came deep, deep inside of me. He pumped more and more of our shared production into my eager pussy, and all I could do was beg for more and more.

I clearly couldn’t ejaculate in my state, but that didn’t hold me back from a powerful orgasm. My ass practically vibrated as it tried to milk Razz for everything he had. That alone felt like coming. I could feel his satisfaction as deeply as my own. My tits had nipples more sensitive that some dicks could ever be, and I gasped as Razz reached and grabbed one. He clearly wanted to play since he gave me these ridiculous things.

After a while of rocking back and forth together, we both came down from our high. He pulled out, but quickly replaced his hose with a butt plug to hold his load in place. I felt no need to complain, but Razz must have whisked away the hazy horniness that had clouded my thoughts for the past few hours. I felt a bit less overwhelmed by all the sensations, though it was jarring even to just be lying there with my odd form.

My muscled body did a fine job of supporting the added weight of my engorged pec-tits and my astounding ass. An ass which was managing to leak a little lube and come around the buttplug that wasn’t designed for my stretched out cunt. My nipples still dribbled a little come, and I felt that my tongue had even thickened slightly in my mouth throughout some part of the process. And nothing could beat the truly bizarre feeling of rubbing my thick thighs together and feeling absolutely nothing between them.

We arranged ourselves into a more comfortable cuddling position on the couch.

“Maybe next time,” Razz whispered in my ear, reaching around and rubbing my null crotch as he nestled his monster cock between my asscheeks, “I’ll put the app on your phone.”

Hm. Now that, that’s an interesting idea.

[backpackbrigade]

Backpack Playlist 5/27/19

I no longer have a radio show so this is where I’m gonna be posting my thoughts and playlists! Have fun, who cares. Apple Music/Spotify links at the bottom. Enjoy. 

“Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)” - Kate Bush, Hounds of Love (1985, EMI)

A gay icon, not much to say beyond that. We love some extra as shit background vocals.

“Bags” - Clairo, Immunity (2019, Fader)

First single off Clairo’s new LP coming out at some point this year. Literally all I can think when I hear the guitar line in this song is Avril Lavigne, and I say that with the utmost respect and love. Big ups to VW alum Rostam for the production on this track and Danielle Haim for drums - does this mean Clairo is now part of the PC Music squad AND the VW-adjacent rap/indie rock squad??? Her career is definitely pretty strange so far, but I’m hype to see her blow up beyond the world of the Youtube algorithm chewing up and spitting out DIY music videos. This track is also kinda full circle for her - in her big Pitchfork feature last year, she talked about being starstruck after seeing one of the Haim sisters on a plane listening to SOPHIE, and now she’s got one of them on a track. We love growth.

“Kisses 2 My Phone” - Sega Bodega, self*care - EP (2018, NUXXE)

Lona (aka MANIIK aka BABY GAMELAN) shared this EP with me last year, and it’s been rattling around in my head ever since. Some glitchy trap beats and subtly depressing lyrics about sending kisses to your phone and losing love. Scottish experimental pop kid who gets in your ears and won’t leave.

“Even the Shadow” - Porches, Pool (2016, Domino)

A classic, both Pool and their newer album The House (2018, Domino) remind me of a very specific time in my life when I was spending 12 hours in the photo studio every other weeknight and played Porches on shuffle to get through it. Very sad stoner synthy alt-pop for gay kids with lots of insecurity but dreams of 2014 soft pale tumblr aesthetic escapism!!

“Hatin” - Rico Nasty & Kenny Beats, Anger Management (2019, Sugar Trap)

Remember when Rico was just a Soundcloud kid with a stellar remix of “The Race” under her belt?? When I first heard that track in the background of a friend from high school’s Instagram story, I literally dropped my phone trying to lyric search it to see who sang it. Big ups to Lafayette (a newly minted Howard University grad :,) ) for putting me on. Rico’s always been bffs with Kenny, so this collab record isn’t surprising, but I didn’t expect it to be this good!!! Very excited to see her blowing up on Tik Tok rn, maybe she’ll finally get what she’s owed. And she deserves more than just a 2 second cameo in the Old Town Road music video………

“Dig” - Lance Bangs, Lance Mountain - EP (2016, Citrus City)

Reminds me of screamy jangly indie rock from the summer after my first year when I lived in a commune and got a stick and poke from a friend who was three mojitos deep. Also, Citrus City is awesome and we love to support VA labels!!

“Livin’ On a Prayer” - Bon Jovi, Slippery When Wet (1986, Vertigo)

Mostly putting this on here because it’s the ending soundtrack to a great little animated short film I watched recently called WORK (2009) by Michael Rianda. It’s a super 2009 short, but it’s fascinating because it feels like the aesthetic halfway point between Don Hertzfeldt’s Rejected (2000) and Bojack Horseman (2014-) style absurdity. It’s not the subtlest anti-capitalist cartoon out there, but it’s very cute and funny.

“20 Ghosts III” - Nine Inch Nails, Ghosts I-IV (2008, The Null Corporation)

Put this back to back with Bon Jovi because the weird guitar/vocal growls sound like the “Livin’ On a Prayer” digital doo-wops put through an insane pedal filter. Heard it for the first time when I was watching Laura Poitras’ documentary Citizenfour (2014) - she used it for the super haunting opening and closing scenes, and I can’t think of any better use for Trent Reznor’s sad garage dad phase guitar music.

“Guap” - Yaeji, Yaeji EP (2016, GODMODE)

No introduction necessary, hopefully. Gives me third year queer party vibes, and if you know what that means, congratulations. You’re part of an in-group now. Listen when you need subtle hype up music.

“Indica” - Dizzy Fae, Free Form Mixtape (2018, self-released)

When I showed a friend a picture of Dizzy Fae, their first response was that she’s probably from Amsterdam or Berlin or something and floats between secret clubs all week long before performing herself. She’s actually from Minnesota and is way younger than either of us assumed, so big ups to her for projecting the coolest vibes imaginable. Her vocal distortion is a little FKA Twigs, but she knows how to fuckin rap on the rest of the EP. Well worth a full listen.

“Flower Moon (feat. Steve Lacy)” - Vampire Weekend, Father of the Bride (2019, Columbia)

Best track on this new album, imo, but I can’t stop thinking about Vampire Weekend for a completely different reason. When this album came out, literally everyone was making fun of it for sounding like a Paul Simon redux. A lot of people praised it for the exact same reason lol. But Paul Simon’s relationship with cultural appropriation is a lot like Ezra Koenig’s, and not enough people have made that connection. Remember when Paul Simon broke the cultural boycott with Apartheid-era South Africa to make Graceland (1986)?? Everyone shit all over him for not only straight up taking South African music styles and centering himself in their vocal story, but doing it all in the midst of the largest cultural boycott in modern history. It’s a good album, I won’t pretend it’s not, but it’s deeply problematic and disappointed a lot of people who expected something better from a guy who knew what he was doing. Reminds me of 2008-2012 Vampire Weekend!! Anyway, listen to this track for Steve Lacy, if nothing else.

“Ur Phone” - boy pablo, Roy Pablo - EP (2017, self-released)

Another Youtube algorithm kid, boy pablo was in everyone’s feeds because this EP is the perfect summery shimmery gaze-y indie rock. His newer album is a little more uptempo than I personally like, but this track is *chef’s kiss*

“Can the Circle Be Unbroken” - The Carter Family, Can the Circle Be Unbroken: Country Music’s First Family (2000, Sony; original recording 1935)

Really not trying to wade into the country music discourse today, but this track is genuinely full of intense longing and sadness in a way that so clearly changed country/rock music and its relationship to the guitar.

“Before the World Was Big” - girlpool, Before the World Was Big (2015, Wichita)

Their new stuff fucking slaps, and seeing them come to terms with their gender identities is fucking beautiful!! But I always come back to these weird ass nursery rhymes. It’s literally just their harmonies and two guitars, and legend has it if you turn this up to full volume in your car and drive through your hometown, your unrequited high school crush will appear with their spouse and two kids just to rub it in.

“Vroom Vroom” - Charli XCX, Vroom Vroom - EP (2016, Vroom Vroom Recordings)

I mean. It’s Charli’s early work with SOPHIE, you’ve gotta just blast this shit and ruin someone’s life. The return to queer hyper pop over the past few years is the only thing sustaining my fucking mental health.

“Xternal Locus” - Chynna & Oklou, Single (2018, self-released)

Another track Lona played for me after I picked her up from work in DC. Lowkey enough to ***** to, highkey enough to **** to ;)

“Cinema” - Kero Kero Bonito, Totep - EP (2018, self-released)

KKB really did an about face with this record, but I still fucking love them. It’s still sunny and glittery pop, but with a chilled-out vibe. Their intense pop records are like the come up, and this is the chill smoke sesh the day after. Just vibey enough to let you chill out and kick back, but keeps you on your toes with some unexpected samples and glitchy moments.

“Jack the Ripper” - SadGirl, Breakfast for 2 - Single (2018, Suicide Squeeze)

We love surf rock, and that’s all I’m gonna say for this. You either vibe with it you’re bored as shit.

“watch you sleep.” - girl in red, Single (2019, self-released)

Music To Sleep To.

Playlists

[allthephils]

Autofocus

Word count: 2140

Rated T for language 

It’s just a fluffy little first meeting story in an au where Dan works at an amusement park photo kiosk and Phil likes to ride roller coasters.

Read on AO3

Written for @phanfichallenge​  photography challenge

Hate is a strong word. Dan doesn’t hate his job, not exactly. He knows it could be worse. He could be cleaning toilets or scraping food off of dishes. He knows that people do real manual labor, dangerous labor, for less money than he’s making to mostly sit on his ass. It’s just that he hates wearing this stupid green polo shirt and he hates going outside during the day. And he really hates dealing with cargo short clad vacation dads that look just like the guys that tried to shove Dan into his locker every day of his high school career. The only difference is these guys are balding and have beer guts and come with tiny little monstrous versions of themselves.

Luckily, poor customer service is a skill that Dan has carefully honed to near perfection. In most cases, he can complete an entire transaction without looking up from his phone. There is one perk to working here though, tit patrol. Tit patrol is the creative title the crew uses to refer to the person who sits at a computer and watches as newly taken photos page by, looking for obscene gestures, exposed arses, and of course tits. These photos get sent to a folder for deletion before they can slip by and show up on the big screen at the back of the kiosk. It’s a coveted position, though the show is far from tantalizing. Quick flashes of all kinds of flesh are more awkward than arousing and they’re interspersed with hundreds of terrified faces and awful shots of vomit flying. Dan loves being on tit patrol because, well because its hilarious, and because it means he doesn’t have to talk to people.

His shift started at 11 AM. Dan walked in at 11:10, iced coffee in hand. He pulled his hideous green polo shirt out and shoved his bag into his cubby. Everyday, he grumbles that he should be aloud to wear black since the kiosk sells photos of riders on a roller coaster called the Vampire. Everyday, his coworkers roll their eyes and ignore him. With his official employee shirt on, collar popped, sleeves rolled up, black t-shirt peeking out at the neck, he took his place behind the counter and began scrolling through Tumblr. It was mostly families with little kids before noon which meant this particular kiosk was dead. The Vampire is way too fast and way too scary for little kids.

The first customer of Dan’s day slides his ticket across the counter. In his usual way, Dan punches the number into his keyboard and the photo appears on both his screen and the one facing the customer.

“Oh wow. So much for my ultra masculine reputation.” The customer giggles a bit, looking at the photo of himself, hand thrown over his eyes, mouth open in a scream of fear, as the coaster sped downhill through a dark and foreboding cave.

Dan looks briefly at the photo and says, “5x7 for £10, or two for 20.”

The customer just stares at Dan who hasn’t so much as glanced at him. “One for 10 or two for twenty? Wait, but that’s not…”

Dan huffs and repeats himself, “5x7 for £10, or two for 20.”

“Okay,” the customer says, resigned, “I’ll take one please. I’ll put it up on my bathroom mirror to keep me humble.”

Dan just sort of grunts as he hits print. He slides the photo into an envelope and hands it over.

His voice is utterly devoid of joy as he issues the standard closing. “Thank you for riding the Vampire, we hope you had a bloody good time.”

A surprised laugh bubbles from the customer as he walks away.

As they move into afternoon, business picks up and a line forms. Dan is on autopilot. Take the ticket, enter the numbers, take the money, print the photo. Take the ticket, enter the numbers, “5x7 for £10, or two for 20.”

“Thought I’d stick with the theme, since I’m clearly a scaredy cat. Get it, scaredy cat?” Dan knows that voice. It’s the customer from earlier. “I’ll pass on the photo though, thanks.”

Dan looks to his screen. This time the man’s face isn’t covered by his hands and it’s a good face. He wears a big smile and his tongue pokes through his front teeth just the smallest bit. He had drawn on a black cat’s nose and whiskers but they don’t hide how strangely good looking he is. Even on this cut rate monitor screen, his eyes look impossibly blue. It’s all framed by a perfect black fringe, not much different than Dan’s own hair. It occurs to Dan that he could be looking right into those eyes and he snaps his gaze to look up at the customer. All he catches is two seriously long legs and a very cute booty walking away in black skinny jeans.

Dan pouts. He never gets to talk to hot boys and now he’d let one slip away. His eyes fall back to the photo on the screen and he sighs.

“Hey, are you working here or what?” Dan curls his lip in disgust at the sharp contrast between the obnoxious American dad in front of him and the ethereal being he saw on the screen. Ok, maybe ethereal is a bit much, but he seems funny and nice and he’s so pretty.

Dan mopes until he’s minutes away from his lunch break. His last customer hands him their ticket and Dan gasps when the photo appears. It’s him! His scaredy cat! The whiskers are gone. His eyes are squeezed shut, his mouth curled into a proud grin. He holds a small stuffed toy lion aloft, à la Circle of Life. Dan laughs, something he doesn’t do very often at work and the customer in front of him laughs with him.

“That boy.” Such a sweet, maternal tone. “I’ll take two copies please.” Her accent is decidedly northern, even more so than the scaredy cat’s had been. This must be his mum. He’s here with his family. So much for tracking him down and snogging him in the employee locker room. Dan carefully tucks the photos into an envelope and hands them to the nice woman.

He flashes his most parent pleasing smile. “Thank you for riding the Vampire. We hope you had a bloody good time!” He actually sounds sincere.

“Oh! Oh dear.” The woman laughs and shakes her head.

“Pardon the language miss.”

“Miss? Young man, I’m likely older than your mother! And believe me these ears have heard far worse than that!” She laughs with Dan and gives him a £20 note. “Phil is going to be tickled pink when he sees how these turned out. You have a lovely day!”

Dan waves as she walks away, standing up to try and catch a glimpse of who she might be headed toward. It’s no use, the crowds are too dense. Phil though, his name is Phil. Dan eats his amusement park pizza outside in the hot sun in the hopes that Phil might walk by but it doesn’t happen. He’s probably gone home. He’d been Dan’s first customer of the day after all. And who in their right mind rides a rickety old Vampire themed rollercoaster three times in one day? Dan daydreams blue eyes and goofy smirks till his half hour was up.

After lunch, he’s on tit patrol so Dan plops down in the back of the kiosk with a giant slushee, trigger finger hovering over the F9 key. The system only gives you a few seconds to make a judgement and send the offender packing before the photo goes up on the big screen for the whole world to see. Any distraction could mean 4 seconds of scandal, angry parents and angrier middle management. More than once, Dan had let a notification on his phone take his attention and had let a middle finger slip by. Not today though, today his eyes are glued to the screen, hoping Phil will ride one more time. He’d see the photo go by and trade with one of the guys at the front and this time, he’d talk to him. He wouldn’t be too edgy to notice and he wouldn’t chicken out.

There were two bras flashed, one simulated blow job, and a whole coaster car full of naked bums, but no Phil. His two hours of tit patrol are up and he reluctantly relinquishes his post. Back on the front lines, he falls into his pattern and soon his shift is nearly up. When he finds himself without a customer in front of him for the first time in an hour, Dan sits up, stretching and rolling his neck. As if put there by the hand of fate, Phil walks past the kiosk. He’s chatting excitedly with a man that looks a lot like him and a gorgeous woman with fiery hair. His parents trail behind, holding hands.

Just as the group gets far enough away that Dan would look like a psycho for running after them or calling Phil’s name, Phil turns and looks right at Dan. He doesn’t stop, he just turns in place like a model on a catwalk. He doesn’t smile, just catches Dan’s eyes with own and goes on his way. Dan swallows and groans out loud, letting his head thunk down on the the counter.

Accustomed to Dan’s flair for the dramatic, his co-workers chuckle and ignore him. Dan pulls off his ugly green polo and begins to gather his stuff to go home. 

“Shit! Shit.” Dan’s co-worker, Jack was on tit patrol and it sounds like he let something by. “Personal info. Fuck. Oh well. Who holds up their phone number on a roller coaster? It’s not even like a proposal or whatever.”

The big screen fills Dan’s vision and he bolts upright. “Oh my god! Oh my god!”

Dan is jumping around and shouting to the disapproving looks of dozens of tourists and he couldn’t care less. Phil looks out at him from the big screen, a smirk better than the one Dan had imagined on his lips. He holds a sign that says, I hope you’re paying attention. And underneath that, a phone number.

Jack says, “Oh hello, he’s hot” and holds up his phone to capture the image. Another co-worker, Ellie, picks up a pen and starts to scribble down the number.

“Don’t you dare.” Dan snarls at Jack, pointing a finger menacingly. Jack lowers his phone and puts his hands up in surrender. Dan walks to Ellie and snatches the number from her hand.

She frowns, “How do you know it’s for you? It could be for any of us!”

“Oh, it’s for me.” Dan grins, his dimples digging in deep, “HE is for me.” He turns up his nose and spins on his heel for the most theatrical exit he can muster, then walks out of the kiosk to a chorus of giggles and grumbles.

Once he’s out of the park, he sits down on a bench at the edge of the parking lot and enters the number into his phone. He types in the name, Phil, bouncing in his seat like a giddy child after too much cotton candy. His hands shake as he types out a message, praying to no one that he hadn’t read that look wrong.

Hi Phil, It’s Dan from the Kiosk.

He hits send, his knee bouncing with nerves and as he’s returning the phone to his pocket, it vibrates.

Dan? You’re the one with the green hair, right?

Is he kidding? He must be kidding. He didn’t even talk to Jack. Another vibration. Dan holds his breath.

Dan? I’m kidding, of course! What follows is a string of emojis, a dinosaur, a warthog, some fireworks, and a cry laughing emoji. I know who you are. You’re the one with the chocolatey eyes and incredible dimples. Nice to meet you, Dan.

Dan exhales and a flutter moves through his belly, up past his heart, and down to his fingertips. Phil laid it on thick and it was working.

Nice to meet you too, Phil.

So Dan, I’ve got a pretty wild Friday night planned.

 Oh yeah? Dan replies.

 Yeah, it includes pizza, Ribena, and…

 Dan breathes a laugh to himself and types, drumroll...

 JURASSIC PARK!!!

 Gasp! Pizza and Jeff Goldblum?!!  I don’t know Phil, sounds intense. You’re easily frightened. You sure you can handle it?

 Maybe if I had someone here to help me through it, someone strong and brave. You know anyone like that?

 Yeah, but I think Jack’s busy tonight. Dan typed but stood and began his walk to the bus stop. He wasn’t wasting any more time.

 I guess you’ll have to do then, Dan.

END

[katelides]

One Shot 32 - Birthday wish

This amazingly sweet tumblr user had her birthday this past weekend so I thought a little birthday shot would be in order ;p @pepiz86 this one’s for you!

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12670274/32/Little-Big-One-Shots

http://archiveofourown.org/works/12940941/chapters/31569624

One Shot 32

Beca is on her way back to her dorm. “Stupid Luke with his no freshmen in the booth rule. And stupid Jesse with his annoying pick up lines and not getting the hint that I’m gay.” She thought she made that clear after the ICCA’s the year before.

Her day had started terrible. Her alarm clock didn’t go off so she missed her first class. Her teacher had lectured her about it for 20 minutes and threatened to go to her father.“Pffft that jerk.” Once again he had forgotten. How do you forget you own daughter’s birthday? “Probably the same way he walked out.” She lets out a heavy sigh. She shouldn’t have expected anything else, her birthdays always sucked.

The rumbling of her stomach catches her attention. She hadn’t eaten anything yet today and she had gotten really hungry. “Maybe some dinner?” She really has to stop talking to herself, it’s really un-cool.

The brunette makes her way to the local diner closest to campus. At least she wouldn’t have to wait long for her food. She went there often enough for the waitresses to know her order. And today was no different. “Hi Beca, the usual?” Beca nods at the black haired waitress. “Hi Claire. Yes but can I get some dessert as well?” Claire nods. “Of course, anything particular?” Beca shrugs. “Surprise me.” Te waitress chuckles. “Sure thing, your order will be right up.”

Beca relaxes back into her seat and puts her headset back on to ignore everyone around her. It isn’t until her phone rings and disrupts her train of thought that she takes them off and checks the caller ID. “Chloe?” Why would the redhead call her? On a Friday evening on top of everything.

*Phone Call*

Beca: “Chloe?”

Chloe: “Becs?”

Beca: Something doesn’t feel right. “Chlo what’s going on?”

Chloe: “A-Are you busy?”

Beca: “Uhm no, what’s up?”

Chloe: “Can you pick me up?”

Beca: “Yes of course, where are you?”

Chloe: “Outside Tom’s apartment? You picked me up last week.”

Beca: “I’ll be there in 20 minutes, are you ok to wait?”

Chloe: “Yeah, no problem... oh and Becs?”

Beca: “Yeah?”

Chloe: “Thank you.”

Beca: “Anytime, I’ll see you soon.”

*End Phone Call*

Beca stands up from her table and walks over to Claire. “Hey is it too late to pack it up to go? Something came up.” Claire nods. “Sure, yours just got called. Give me a minute.” With a smile the waitress walks back to the kitchen. When she returns Beca hands her the money she owes. “Thank you so much, I promise I’ll be back again soon.” With half a smile and a weird wave Beca rushes out of the diner. Thank god that she has her own car.

-,-,-,-,-

Beca makes her way to the location in record time. She was lucky she didn’t get pulled over for reckless driving but when it comes to Chloe or any of the Bellas (of course) nothing would stop her. She spots the redhead sitting on the ground next to the building. She parks the car and gets out as quickly as she can.

“Hey Chlo, everything alright?” Chloe looks up and Beca sees the redhead’s tearstained face and immediately crouches down to be on the same eye level. “What happened?” The usually bubbly redhead looks like she’s going to burst back into tears so Beca holds out her hand to pull the older Bella up. Chloe accepts with some shaky movements.

Once both girls are up on their feet Beca leads them to her car. Opening the door so Chloe can get it before circling the car and get in herself. “Becs I’m so sorry to ruin you evening.” Beca raises her brow. “What are you talking about? You didn’t ruin anything.” It’s only then that she notices the take out bag in Chloe’s lap. “Oh no Chloe I was just getting dinner, I was spending the evening alone anyway.”

Chloe takes in a deep shaky breath. “What about your birthday?” Beca is taken aback. “H-how do you kn-“ Chloe laughs gently. “Of course I know, I might have kind of stalked you.” This confession makes Beca chuckle. “You could have just asked me, you know?”

“You would have told me if you wanted me to know.” Beca tilts her head slightly. “I guess but that doesn’t explain why you called me tonight? I mean if you knew then why didn’t you call any of the other Bellas? Or Aubrey?” Chloe fiddles with the ring on her thumb. “I called you because I… I trust you and I didn’t want anyone but you.”

“I’m glad you called me, and for your information… you can call me anytime on any day and I’ll be there for you.” The girls stay quiet for a few minutes, each thinking of their growing feelings for the other. “Look, I don’t want to pry into your private life so I won’t. But I do have food and my roommate is gone for the weekend. So what do you think of watching a movie with me while having dinner?”

Chloe’s smile returns to her face. “I have a better idea, my apartment has a TV and we can heat up the food.” Beca rolls her eyes. “Fine, but we’ll have to make a stop at my dorm so I can pick up something more comfortable.” Chloe shakes her head. “I have something that’ll fit you.” With a sigh Beca agrees. She starts the engine and makes her way towards Chloe’s apartment, trying to hide the smile that’s trying to come through.

-,-,-,-,-

Chloe throws a pair of shorts and a shirt at Beca who manages not to drop them. While Chloe goes into the kitchen to warm up the food Beca gets changed. Once she’s done she makes herself comfortable on the couch. “Hey Becs do you mind if don’t watch a movie?”

Beca raises her brow. Chloe not wanting to watch a movie? Something is definitely up. “Chlo, can you sit down for a minute?” The redhead slowly makes her way to the couch. Not completely sure about what Beca is going to do. When Chloe’s close enough Beca grabs her hand and pull her into her lap holding her tight. “I don’t care what he did, he’s a dead man walking.”

These muttered words were all Chloe needed to break down into loud sobs while Beca holds her as tight as she can whispering loving words in her ear. A few minutes later the sobs die down and another few minutes pass until Chloe’s breathing has evened out.

“He just used me.”

Beca tenses at the words but doesn’t say anything because she knows that the redhead has more things to say. “He said we were just ‘friends with benefits’ he never fucking cared… no one ever cares.” At this Beca makes Chloe look at her and wipes the tears away. “I care, I will always care Chlo… A year ago I would have never thought I would ever care for anyone but then you burst into my life and now I can’t imagine my life without you.”

The brunette takes a breath. “He’s an idiot for treating you that way. You deserve so much better and I wish I could show you how much better.” Chloe looks at the younger girl with a thoughtful yet confused expression. “Did you make your birthday wish just now?” Beca frowns and it makes Chloe giggle. “I’m just kidding Becs.”

“But I’m not. So yes, my birthday wish is to show you how much you deserve.” Beca has no idea where this burst of confidence came from but she kind of liked it. “Wait you’re serious?” Chloe asks. Beca nods. “Look I know you’re straight and all but if you give me a few days I might find you a nice g-“

Chloe’s lips silence Beca with ease. “I don’t need a guy, I need you.” The words are a soft whisper and if they weren’t so close to each other Beca wouldn’t have heard them. It’s the only thing she needs to reattach her lips to the older girl’s, smiling into the kiss. Yeah a smile that wouldn’t be leaving any time soon.

One little detail that Chloe doesn’t know and will never find out is that when Beca woke up that morning she wished for Chloe to reciprocate her feelings. So who says wishes don’t come true…

I DO NOT OWN PITCH PERFECT!

REVIEWS = HAPPY ME

HAPPY ME = QUICKER UPDATES

FOLLOW ME ON TUMBLR FOR SNEEK PEAKS FOR UPCOMING CHAPTERS –katelides