#no but dick raising a kid in new york seems correct

[hood-ex]

i know its been days but i can't stop thinking about the miracle desert baby post. its already insane to think about the reaction to the scenario from one of dick's siblings' povs but bruce being (seemingly) updated on the mission (as mr malone to dick's birdwatcher)as it's happening until dick resurfaces WITH A BABY whose existence he somehow managed to omit?? surprise grandbaby unboxing. unreal

Bruce thinks he's a grandad but then Dick hits him with that, "I'm not your boy."

[annabethy]

hi bestie !! 11 “I never thought I’d fancy you…and yet here we are” pls 🥺🥺

In which Percy and Annabeth don’t meet in the best of circumstances, but then time goes by and he can’t imagine life without her,, percabeth

When Percy first meets her, he’s fifteen years old, and it is not at all what he would consider a pleasant experience.

He’s forced to sit next to the blonde girl with sharp grey eyes on the first day of freshman year. Her name is Annabeth, he quickly learns, and she is the complete opposite of him. Where he’s sloppy, she’s precise. She’s the first to raise her hand in class while he’s the one hiding his eyes from the teacher’s, and when she points it out to him, a mocking grin on her face, he decides right then and there that he wants nothing to do with her.

They don’t really talk for the entirety of the year, excluding the jabs she takes at him when he gets a quiz back marked in red while hers is pristine. He prefers it that way — silent — and by the time the end of the year rolls around, he’s not at all disappointed to discover that she’s not going to be in any of the same classes the following year.

He almost forgets about her, really, until he walks into English literature on the first day of senior year and spots her sitting next to the only remaining seat.

Percy almost walks right back out of the room, tormented by the idea of having to spend his last year of high school next to the girl with scary eyes, but then she locks eyes with him, and something tells him to sit.

He slides into the seat next to her and is surprised by the slight smile she shoots at him.

“Haven’t seen you since freshman year,” she comments. Her voice has changed a lot, he notices, and as he takes the rest of her in, he realizes that the rest of her has too. Her hair has grown out and seems to be tamer, and her face seems more defined than he remembers. Other parts of her are definitely fuller as well, and he has to fight back a flush as she laughs at him struggling to form an answer.

“I guess it has been,” he manages to answer.

Annabeth leans over the side of her desk, and Percy feels a little bit lightheaded at the smell of her perfume. It’s the same one as before. Maybe she hasn’t changed so much. “You look like you want to bolt.”

“Only a little bit.”

She leans back again, humor in her eyes. “I wasn’t that bad, was I?”

Percy isn’t really sure how to respond to that. As far as he had been aware from the things he’s heard, Annabeth was still a very prickly person, but sitting next to her now, she couldn’t seem further from that.

“Well,” she says when he doesn’t answer, “I guess it’s a good thing you’ll be sitting next to me then. I wouldn’t want you thinking I’m still a dick.”

“I didn’t say you were that bad,” Percy points out, finding his voice again. It’s hardly his fault. Annabeth’s really pretty. Maybe she always has been, but now that she’s not at his throat, he feels less shame in seeing it. He can’t breathe.

She shrugs, though she doesn’t seem insulted. “Yeah, but you didn’t need to.”

From there, he isn’t entirely sure how it happens. They quickly become friends, and Percy finds he enjoys her company. She’s really funny, and she’s not at all how she was a few years ago. To be fair, he’s sure he’s making it easier. He’d be the first to admit that he probably wasn’t the best person to sit next to either a few years ago when his hyperactivity was at an all-time high.

They become what some may call best friends, and it’s pretty awesome.

Still, as awesome as best friends is, it doesn’t take all that long for them to become more than friends either.

One second, they’re at his house putting together a presentation on Shakespeare’s Sonnet 19, and the next second, they’re on the couch, Percy’s hand sneaking under the back of her shirt to feel her warm skin while she kisses him senseless.

It’s hot and heavy, and it’s only been two months since they’ve reconciled after three years, but it’s also perfect, and he wonders how he’s been missing this for so long.

Annabeth pulls away after a couple minutes to rest her face in the crook of his neck. She’s breathing hard, and Percy is too, but he’s much more focused on the way his lips tingle, yearning to feel her pressed harder against him again.

She lifts her head to look at him, and Percy falls distracted by her eyes. They’re the eyes that he used to hate as they’d tease him, but now, they’re the same eyes he gets excited to see every day for fifty minutes in class. They’re the same eyes he thinks he may be just a little bit in love with at the moment.

“You’re so pretty,” Percy blurts out. He doesn’t even realize he’s said it until she’s giggling, close enough for him to feel the small breaths against his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Mh-hm.” Percy’s nose nudges hers, but he doesn’t kiss her. “Like, really pretty.”

“I think you’re pretty cute yourself.”

Percy doesn’t know that he’s ever heard someone else say that to him, and now he doesn’t need to. Hearing Annabeth Chase call him cute is about all he’s ever needed in life. He tries to bring them back to where they were a few minutes ago, but Annabeth settles a hand on his shoulder to stop his efforts. He doesn’t mind, since she doesn’t seem to be upset by him. “Thank you,” she says, “for sitting next to me. I really thought you were going to turn around and ditch just because you didn’t want to sit next to me.”

“And miss this?” Percy presses a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Never.”

“I really like you,” she whispers. “And… I’m just really glad you’re my partner in class.”

Percy can’t help the grin that slides across his mouth. “I really like you too.”

“Not as much as I like you.”

“Oh yeah?” Percy tries to kiss her properly this time, and she lets him. He kisses her until he’s out of breath again, and then some more, before he pulls away. “Then date me.”

Annabeth laughs, but it’s not a condescending one he would’ve expected three years ago. It’s funny how much things have changed from when they were both fifteen. He never would’ve thought he’d be an eighteen-year-old with Annabeth tangled up in his lap, asking her to be his.

“Date you?”

Percy smiles softly, and Annabeth matches it. “Be my girlfriend.”

Annabeth’s fingers move under his chin and she lifts until his eyes lock on hers. It just feels right. Against his lips, she says, “I’d love to.”

And that’s how it starts.

It spirals out of control from that point on. He falls deeper in love with her with every day, and so much surer that this is how it was meant to be. He feels so much flooding through him every single time he looks into her eyes, and he doesn’t know how to express just how much he loves her. He doesn’t think that words could ever describe it.

Percy doesn’t try to explain his thoughts at first because he just doesn’t know how to. He doesn’t try until it’s the last week before they graduate, and they’re sitting on top of a building staring off into the New York skyline as the sun begins to set.

“This is beautiful,” Annabeth says. They sit together on a ledge, still far enough to guarantee their safety. She’s sitting between his legs with his arms wrapped around her waist and head resting on her shoulder. It’s a bit cold outside, so she wears his jacket.

Percy thinks it’s beautiful too, but for more reasons than just the skyline bursting with pinks and golds.

“It’s nothing compared to you,” he whispers into her ear.

“You big sap.”

“Only for you.” Percy kisses the edge of her ear.

Annabeth sighs, and Percy tightens his grip on her. “I still can’t believe it.”

“Believe what?”

“That we’re graduating. We’re leaving high school together when on the first day of high school, we wanted nothing to do with each other.”

Percy snickers. “Yeah, but it adds some spice to our relationship.”

“I hardly think we need any more spice,” she says, teasing.

Percy hums deep in his throat, content as she snuggles deeper into his arms to protect against the biting wind. “Probably not.”

Annabeth’s silent for a few minutes, and he wishes he could know what she’s thinking.

“Can you do me a favor?” she asks, so quiet he almost misses it amongst the New York hum.

“Anything.”

“Tell me a secret.”

“A secret?”

“Just — something you’ve never told me before.”

“I tell you everything already.”

“Just something you’ve never said.”

Percy doesn’t even have to think. He already knows exactly what he wants to say, so he leans in close to speak into her ear.

“I love you.”

Annabeth laughs and rolls her eyes fondly. “That’s not something you’ve never told me.”

“Then I’m telling you again.” Percy kisses her neck, a soft brush of his lips. “I’m just a little bit in love with you.”

“Just a little bit?”

“A lot in love with you,” he corrects.

“That’s better.”

“And…”

Annabeth tilts her head back against his chest to look up at him. It’s so cute he thinks he may explode.

“I never thought I’d fancy you,” he admits, “yet here we are.”

She grins. “I was an awful fifteen-year-old.”

“If it led us to now, then I’d do it a million times over,” he tells her. “And you weren’t that bad.”

Annabeth makes a sound of disagreement and brings a hand up to brush against his cheek. “Can I tell you something now?”

“Go for it.”

Annabeth blinks slowly, and Percy realizes that the sun is almost set as the night takes over. “I love you.”

“You just told me that wasn’t a secret,” he says, playful.

“Let me finish,” she chides. “I love you, and I’m giving you everything I have, so… don’t change your mind on me.”

Percy knows he couldn’t possibly change his mind on her. She’s it, he knows, and it’s exactly how it should be.

He sees a future with her. He sees marriage and kids and growing old together. His future is written with Annabeth Chase, and his mind is made up.

“Change my mind on you?” Percy laughs once and brings his lips to hers. “Never.”

[sgtjbbhasmyheart]

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Two

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2921

Warnings: bad language words, blink and you’ll miss the angst, just some fluff

A/N: divider credit- @firefly-graphics

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission

You awoke with a start, feeling as if you were late for work or something important and forgot to set your alarm. Your heart beat an erratic tattoo against your ribcage. Scrambling for your cell phone, you blindly reached across the side table near your bed in a panic. Unplugging the phone, you brought the device an ungodly closeness to your face. It was only 6:17. On Saturday.

Your pulse throbbed behind your eyeballs, and a strange stickiness coated the inside of your mouth. Did you drink that much last night?

How could you not? Timmons was a fair boss, and you enjoyed your job, but that dude loved the sound of his own voice.

The quarterly business dinners were mandatory for all employees, even for the P.A.s. Typically, they weren’t so bad, but last night, Timmons felt the need to toot his own horn for landing a massive contract with Stark Industries slash The Avengers. He went on and on about how great it was for the firm.

He was like a giant kid in a candy store with his ramblings. ‘We will be promoting the face of The Avengers and everything that goes with it,’ he spouted off like the firm was god’s gift to public relations.

You groaned at the reminder of last night’s presentation. The contract wasn’t even in effect yet, and you were sick of the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Timmons could be a real buzz kill.

Rolling to your back, you brought your phone up to tap the screen to read the emails you received overnight. On display was a text from 11:04 by someone named James. It read: “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

Your mind went back to last night again, trying to recall who this James was. He must be significant if you plugged his contact information into your phone already. Had you met someone last night?

Drawing a blank, you clicked on the text bubble to pull up the thread. Briefly scanning through the numerous texts, everything came rushing back. In an attempt to text your sister, Robyn, you mistakenly texted this mysterious, James.

You felt like an utter buffoon when you learned he wasn’t Robyn. You always did have a way with the cute boys. Probably why you were single. You groaned out loud as you read on.

You im safely inside my apartment. Pretty sure no one followed me home

James Did you triple check the lock on the front door?

You yes dad yeesh

James There are a lot of bad people out there. Just want to make sure you’re safe.

You sounds like you watch the news too much but its sweet of u to care

James I know from experience.

You r u the bad guy or have u been the one mugged?

James Let’s just say I have friends that have dealt with the bad things of the world.

You right i almost forgot ur a military-trained assassin athlete mchottie

James Did you ever send your sister a text?

You shit thanks for reminding me i have such a crazy story to tell her

James Only good things, I hope.

You oh yeah all the good things an enigmatic yet handsome stranger cares more about my safety than any of my ex-boyfriends ever did.

James My ma raised me right.

You id say

James_ I hate to cut this short, but I think you need your rest. Especially if you’re meeting your sister tomorrow._

You i dont want to agree but ur probably right

You whats ur name btw?

James My name? Why? Do you plan to continue texting me after tonight?

You duh ur fun to talk to

James Oh.

You or not its cool if u dont want to

James It’s James.

You nice to meet u james im (y/n)

James Nice to meet you as well.

You my sister just texted me back and were still meeting at 9 i should go 

You goodnite james

James Goodnight, (Y/N).

Oh. My. God. Had you seriously drunk-flirted with a stranger and offered to keep texting him? You had no shame with a few drinks in you.

You brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose and sighed loudly.

What did you know of this James? He had a New York area phone number. Check. He could have been a real dick about your mistake but wasn’t. Understanding. Check. He worried about you getting home safely in your inebriated state. Caring. Check. Not too forthcoming with the nine to five. Secretive. Check. His mouth looked so soft and plush, and his eyes were made to drown in. Gorgeous. Check.

A heat simmered beneath your skin as you recounted the shortlist you’d made. Were you lusting over someone you’d exchanged less than forty texts with? Had you somehow woken back up in high school?

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you stared at the screen displaying the message thread. Were you really considering this? You nodded your head to answer your own question. Where was the harm in a little shameless flirting? If worse came to worst, you could always block him.

With your mind made up, you began typing into your phone, constructing an apology.

You Good morning! First off, I want to apologize for the way I behaved over text last night.

You Though, I do like to imbibe in the occasional drink or two, I am, by no means, a lush.

You Please take everything I said with a grain of salt. Apparently, I get loose-lipped and cheeky with free wine. 😐

You Again, I’m sorry and understand if you wanted to cease our correspondence for my behavior.

You blew out a breath and tossed your phone aside. It was up to fate now and a stranger named James.

You laid in your bed for several minutes staring at the ceiling, contemplating between whether to send a ‘haha just kidding’ text and what the weather would be like, so you could forego shaving your legs in the shower today.

Your phone chimed during the pondering of hair removal, indicating a new text. You knew it was James proclaiming you a freak and to forget his number, but secretly, you hoped it was Robyn canceling today.

Seizing the phone from your mattress top, your heart’s beat increased with each second you went without looking at the screen. Finding the courage, you flipped the device over to read the message.

James Quite the formal apology, Ms. Professor.

You smiled at the text. It didn’t tell you to pound sand or eat shit. No, it was teasing and in jest. You sighed in relief.

You Cease our correspondence too much?

James No, no it was perfect if this was 1863, and you were breaking up with me via telegraph.

You Stop!

James Exactly! ‘Never speak to me again!’ Stop. ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ Stop.

A belly laugh disrupted the tranquil air of your bedroom. You quickly thumbed out a reply once you caught your breath.

You You’re incorrigible.

James I’m glad to see you are using proper capitalization and punctuation this morning.

You Ha!

You When you are buzzed and/or tipsy, capitals and periods be damned. Like you’re so perfect when you’re drunk.

James We all have our flaws.

Was he implying he was a sloppy texter when drunk, too? You shrugged it off as him being cryptic again.

You What are you doing up so early on a Saturday? I didn’t wake you, did I?

You were suddenly stricken with guilt. You should have waited for a more reasonable hour to send out rapid-fire apology texts. Not at 6:36 in the morning. You didn’t want last night’s behavior hanging over you, though. Better to clear the air now than later. You could always ask for forgiveness again if you had disturbed his sleep.

James I had just gotten back from my run when I saw your texts. I have training this morning.

You Oh, right. For your hush-hush, super top secret mission/quidditch game.

You You ever gonna tell me what you really do?

James_ Maybe. Someday._

How far away was someday? Was he planning to text you until you both died or until he got bored? How did texting relationships even work?

You Or is it one of those situations where if you told me you’d have to kill me?

James 😈

You There you go again--being all mysterious.

James Keep ‘em guessing and coming back for more.

You Has that strategy worked well for you in the past?

James Got you to text me again this morning, didn’t it?

You scoffed at what he had suggested. He was correct, but your stubborn streak would deny everything.

You The only reason I texted you this morning was to apologize for acting like a drunken fool last night.

And to squash the curiosity burning in your veins. But he didn’t need to know that.

James Oh.

The reply caused you to furrow your brow and your stomach to drop. You regretted not adding more levity to your last text. Of course, it wasn’t the only reason you were drawn to him.

You I appreciate that the selfie you sent wasn’t a dick pic. And you genuinely seemed to care about me getting home safely. Thank you.

You And maybe- a teeny, tiny bit- is honestly interested in getting to know you better.

You waited on pins and needles for his text, watching the pulsing ellipsis on your screen. Was he just humoring you?

James Hook. Line. Sinker.

Reading his response generated a flush from your jaw to your hairline. You growled in embarrassment. You fell for the oldest trick in the book. He baited you for a compassionate answer, and you delivered beautifully. Hook, line, and sinker, indeed.

You You’re an ass. I take everything back.

James Don’t be mad. I wasn’t sure how it was going to go, but you played into my trap wonderfully.

James If it makes you feel any better, all kidding aside, I want to get to know you better too.

James I fell asleep with a smile on my face last night and woke up with one this morning.

James Because of you, (Y/N).

A flutter broke apart in your chest. You hadn’t time-traveled back to high school; no, this was junior high territory.

You You’re lucky you’re so damn charming, James.

James Doll, you have no idea.

The subway ride into Manhattan usually gave you the chance to get a little reading in since it took nearly fifty minutes from Queens. Not today, though. You spent the entirety of the train ride texting back and forth with James. It was mundane stuff, but you were getting a grasp of who James was as a person.

You Favorite color?

James Black. You?

You Blue.

You Favorite ice cream flavor?

James Chocolate. Yours?

You Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia.

James I didn’t realize we were getting specific.

You We weren’t, but that’s my favorite.

You Favorite movie?

James I like the classics- The Wizard of Oz, It’s A Wonderful Life, Frankenstein.

You I have too many to list, so don’t ask.

You Okay. Lightning round because I’m almost to my stop.

James Where are you going again?

You paused your reply for a brief second, wondering if you should divulge your destination. You’d known James less than twenty-four hours; although, it felt like weeks after this morning. Where was the harm in telling him where you were meeting your sister? There were nearly nine million people in this city. There was no way you’d ever bump into each other.

You A bakery in the Upper East Side called Two Little Red Hens. Ever been?

James Don’t think I have.

You Well, since you like chocolate, they have a fantastic cake called Brooklyn Blackout. Super rich but delicious.

James Sounds right up my alley.

You Cats or dogs?

James I’m gone too much, so cats.

The answer piqued your interest. Maybe he was an athlete. Wouldn’t it be practice and not training, though? Or he’s FBI or CIA.

You Socks on or off for sleeping?

James Off.

You Silver or gold?

James Silver.

You Morning, noon, or night?

James Night.

You How do you take your coffee?

James Room for sugar and creamer.

You Boxers or briefs?

James Boxer briefs.

You laughed out loud, looking around the subway car to see if anyone was paying attention to you. Per usual, they weren’t.

You Touché.

As soon as the train stopped, you gathered your purse close to your body and made for the exit. You followed the crowd of fellow passengers through the turnstile and ascended the stairs onto street level.

The morning sunlight caressed your skin like a warm blanket. The humidity wasn’t too bad, yet, but the threat of afternoon thunderstorms still hung in the air.

Even with the reasonably early hour, the sidewalk was stuffed with people, carrying to-go coffee cups or shopping bags. You fought for your little spot of real estate on the grimy concrete.

Stopping at a red traffic light, waiting to cross, you typed out another question for James.

You Pineapple on pizza--yay or nay?

The light changed as you finished, and the throng of pedestrians around you guided you across the street. You spotted Robyn outside the bakery as your phone dinged with a new text alert.

“Wow, I’m surprised you made it on time,” Robyn said as you hugged hello.

You looked at the clock on your phone. 8:58. “You and me both, sister.” Glancing back at your phone’s screen, you giggled.

James What kind of monster puts pineapple on their pizza??

“What’s so funny?” Robyn asked as you accompanied her through the bakery’s door.

With a grin on your face, you punched out a quick reply:

You Well, it was nice knowing you, James. It was a swell friendship while it lasted--a whole 11 ½ hours.

Robyn elbowed you softly in the ribs with a look on her face, seeking an explanation.

“Ow,” you grunted. “What?”

“You tell me. I half expected a zombie to walk through the doors today after your text last night. Not Suzie Sunshine.”

You both edged closer to the counter as the line in front of you dwindled.

James Say it ain’t so, doll! Pineapple on pizza? Really??

You let out a low chortle as you skimmed the text. You glimpsed up at Robyn as you shuffled forward in line again. “Believe me, I’m pretty hungover,” you replied, shoving your phone in your back pocket. “It’s a funny story. I’ll tell you everything when we sit.”

Robyn stared at you warily, still trying to figure out what had come over you. “Okay,” she conceded, stepping to the register to order.

With each of you supplied with an iced coffee and a peach ginger scone, you found an empty table by a window along 2nd Avenue and proceeded to tell Robyn about James.

When you stopped to catch your breath, remembering the whirlwind the last twelve hours had been, you peered at your sister for her reaction.

She stared at you like you’d grown a second head. She shook her head in disbelief. “(Y/N), what where you thinking?”

Your brow pinched in confusion. Was she actually scolding you? You crossed your arms over your chest. “I was thinking about how my big sister is always telling me to meet new people and how it’s time I thought about settling down.”

“Not like this it’s not,” she hissed. “This is how your body parts end up in someone’s freezer!”

You choked on the piece of scone you shoved in your mouth before she started ridiculing you. After coughing to clear your airway and taking a sip of your iced coffee, you leered at Robyn. “Oh, my god! Dramatic much? Have you been binge-watching Dateline again? Jesus Christ, Robyn, he’s harmless,” you countered.

“You think you’ll be so careful, but you’ll let one little detail slip, and he’ll find you,” Robyn said before taking a pull from her coffee.

“You mean, like, how I was meeting you at Two Little Red Hens at nine o’clock?”

Robyn’s mouth popped open in an O. “What the hell, (Y/N)?” she stage-whispered. “Are you trying to get yourself kidnapped and sold into sex trafficking?”

“Please,” you drew out in one long syllable. “He doesn’t know what I look like. How would he snatch me?”

“He could look you up on Facebook.”

“Without a last name?” You shook your head, no.

“What about a reverse search on your number?” Robyn asked, pushing the plate holding her scone away. “That’s a thing.”

“Perhaps, but it seems like a lot of effort for a mistake I made. It wasn��t like he was seeking me or anyone else out.”

Robyn huffed out a breath and folded her arms in exasperation. Always the protective big sister. You could tell you were breaking her down, though.

“C’ mon, Robbie. It’s all in innocent fun. I’m not saying I’m hoping he’ll turn out to be Mr. Right, but the banter is fun,” you remarked. “James is charming and witty and nice to talk to.”

Robyn shook her head once more, frowning. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

You reached across the table for her hand and squeezed gently. “Me too.” You smiled slyly, remembering last night’s dinner and Timmons gushing about The Avengers. “If not, I know how to get ahold of a couple of centenarians who know chivalry isn’t dead.”

Chapter One | Chapter Three

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[gagmebucky]

hiiii i wrote this awhile ago but took it down because i was 👉🏼👈🏼 embarrassed about it (because i do not have the skill to pull off peter parker) and sorta still am but everyone’s been so nice to me about it i thought the best way to repay the kindness by posting it for those who did like it 😅 (originally inspired by spider man 2 with andrew garfield but loosely set in the 2018 issue of the amazing spider-man.)

in which the guys are making fun of peter and accidentally see a video of him fucking you. (includes avenger!peter x girlfriend!you, peter’s pov, voyeur!steve and voyeur!bucky, a sex tape featuring d/s dynamics, bondage, praise kink, exhibitionism, unprotected sex.) 

do not repost.

—

Despite being twenty-one years old; a proper adult who lives with his high school sweetheart, a photographer doubling as a seven-year veteran vigilante in the dangers of New York, Peter Parker is still considered as a super-powered amateur to his seasoned peers. 

Nonetheless, given his success in countless battles in the state, country, world and even galaxy-wide, he more than qualifies to hold the title of Avenger; it’s official now. A laid-back induction ceremony and his very own identity card: a sturdy rectangle, shiny with full clearance and all. Yet, as an official member, his teammates still treat him like he’s that same goofy, out-of-his-depths sixteen year old.

To be fair, yes, his style of heroism isn’t the most serious. He favors levity in the face of danger, a cheeky flare with smart quips and an infuriating grin. Even after taking a beating from the worst of foes, his demeanor never wavers because in the end, he wins. The villains are slayed and the people are saved, even comforted by the boyishly confident way he works. 

But beyond that persona, he has grown into a skilled warrior. On that note, he wants to be regarded as such—at least, to a certain extent. The jokes and teasing, poking fun at his age or the shenanigans he gets himself into, don’t bother him. No, his playful wit handles it with relative ease, and he’s a good sport about it. The only thing that he’d want to see change is some recognition that he isn’t a naïve kid anymore and is fully capable of taking charge when needed.

With his recent acceptance into the gifted pantheon, he’s intent on making that known. The jesting can continue but he wants it to be with an understanding of his capabilities. Luckily, a perfect opportunity has presented itself to showcase his abilities: a training session. 

He’s late. And yes, he knows that’s probably not a good impression to make.

In his own defense, it isn’t technically his fault. He forgot that you, his personal alarm clock (amongst other things), left early this morning because you volunteered to help his aunt move. Four years of mornings and nights, he’s gotten used to—and prefers—your languorous wake-up call.

Without your reminder, he regains consciousness fifteen minutes after the scheduled time and ends up scrambling to the compound. In a flurry, he throws on his suit—unknowingly backwards, he realizes later—trips at least three times over his own footing before he finally springs out of the balcony with webbed bursts.

When he reaches his destination, Captain America and the Winter Soldier are unimpressed; mid-simulation, it powers down. Both super-soldiers whirl around to face him, fixing raised eyebrows at his disheveled arrival.

He adjusts his now front-facing suit and shuffles forward into the space with as much confidence as an interrupter can have. “H - hey, guys,” Peter greets sheepishly and manages what he hopes is a charming smile, absentmindedly fidgeting with his phone. “Lookin’ good for a couple of geezers.” 

Unfortunately, Steve Rogers is not charmed or disillusioned from the tardiness. “You’re late, Parker.” His arms fold, and he shakes his head when punctuating his disapproval with an echoing, “Again.” 

Thankfully, to his right, more relaxed and cool, Bucky Barnes steps up. “C’mon, Stevie. Y’can’t be that surprised,” he chimes in matter of factly, contrasting against his friend with amusement sparkling in his blue eyes. “What’d you expect with Parker?” He gestures at the younger superhero. “Kid’s gonna be late to his own wedding.”

(Beside the point, but worth noting, he will not be late to meeting you at the altar. That is, of course, if you accept when he pops the question. Which is going to happen relatively soon, considering he has the ring in his nightstand drawer.)

The consult seems to relax him. “Yeah, I guess you’re right and—Peter, you—seriously, man?!” Steve sputters the last bit when he glanced over to see him blatantly check the notification that’s vibrated in his hand (on the device that is ruled to be stowed away during training). “Now the phone?!” 

Even though he shouldn’t, being on thin ice with Cap and all (pun not intended), Peter’s gaze flickers down to see your contact name appear on the screen, and he can’t resist. While Bucky guffaws a laugh at his audacity, he’s swiping up to pull up your text thread. 

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:37AM: spider boyyyyy you’ll never guess what i found in a box labeled ‘peter’s junk’ ;;;)

peter, 10:37AM: those magazines are NOT mine and i don’t know how they got there.

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: not quite but close, naughty boy

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: for a man who depends on keeping secrets and a penchant for home movies, you might ought to keep a lock on your phone unless you want someone to see me like this...

> you 😛❤️🥰, 10:38AM: (video attached)

Immediately, he recognizes the pornographic thumbnail. One glance, and he’s remembering the first couple of times you guys explored the exhibitionism side of things. It was at the end of his freshman year of college and taped on a phone he thought he had lost. But he must've forgotten it at his aunt’s house, and she tossed it in the box until you came along. 

Although there’s been plenty more made, he recalls that one being a shared favorite, his especially. When long-distance duty calls, it was his go-to media. The angles, your face and body beneath the lights, the sounds it caught, you once asked if he considered switching to cinematography instead of photographer

Subconsciously, his teeth run over his bottom lip, feeling that blazing spark of desire igniting in the pit of his gut, partially at the memory and partially at what’ll happen once you guys can re-watch it together; his thumbs start typing away with that message.

“Peter!” Steve’s exasperated voice snaps, but to no avail—the real gall of the youngster, or the effect of you. His weight shifts toward his best friend, and he nudges him with his elbow. “Kids these days!” The hundred-something year old’s gaze cocks a brow back over. “Is that why you were late? Blowing off training to text your girlfriend?”

The text delivers with an audible bloop. Finally, his concentration gives, and he can look up, though his expression is clueless from the last minute. “Huh?” His brain registers what he missed, and he winces. “Sorry, Cap. My bad.”

Bucky chuckles. “Give him a break, Steve,” he faux comes to his defense, a teasing quality underlying his tone. “He’s young and in love. It’s not his fault he’s pussy-whipped.” He cracks him an antagonizing grin as Peter rolls his eyes. “He can’t go an hour without sending those little weird pictures with heart eyes, or she might not know he’s thinking about her.”

“As if you know anything about romance, old man,” he fires back and presses past them with squared shoulders, correcting him quite seriously: “And they’re called emojis, by the way. But that’s not what I was doing, if you want to know so bad.”

The brunette tilts his head thoughtfully, and small hackles arise for reasons he doesn’t understand, or pay attention to. “You know, I do want to know really badly,” Bucky decides and poses a question to his left, “Wouldn’t you, too, Steve? Aren’t you curious what his girlfriend sent that was so much more important than training?”

The blond mimics his actions and clicks his tongue. “Yeah, I am.” 

Peter’s eyebrows pinch while his skin tingles and the hair on the back of his neck stands straight up. “What—” Before his senses process it, one of the super-soldiers plucks his phone out of his hands and darts back beside his best friend. His jaw drops as he tries to follow after him. “Bucky, you asshole—”

“Some spidey senses, huh?” The Winter Soldier lifts it high over his head, utilizing his six-foot stature against his five-ten like elementary school bullies do and older siblings to their juniors. “Haven’t ‘cha heard about sharing with the class?” He laughs and practically stiff-arms him to squint up at the screen. “Aw, he can’t wait to see her. What’s it been, more than two hours since you two saw each other last?” 

Conceding to the height difference, Peter stops his physical efforts and diverts it to someone reasonable. “Cap, you gonna help me out here?” he addresses the entertained onlooker in the most friendly voice he can manage. 

“The kid’s got separate anxiety not just from his girlfriend but phone too, Buck,” Steve drawls with a lopsided curve of his lips. He side-steps Peter to stand next to Bucky, and for a second, he thinks he’s on his side despite the tease, but he simply adds a stern, “So be careful. You don’t want to break it, or Parker will have a fit.”

Peter crosses his arms and scowls. “Ha, ha,” he retorts dryly, only somewhat amused by their banter. He tilts his head up at them, and the duo look thoroughly pleased with themselves. “You know, you guys are kind of dicks.”

“No, we’re your mentors, kid,” Steve corrects with a wink and rests his arm on his friend’s shoulder. “This is a lesson. No phones—” He jabs his thumb back in reference to the device’s unlocked screen: “—when you’re supposed to be training.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky chimes in upon glancing up from his phone. “And a little advice, women don’t like clinginess. Try being a little more stern and see how that works for you. If you’re able to manage that. But I won’t hold it against ya if you can’t.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter patronizes with a bob of his head, biting back a response pointing out the hundred-something year old’s inexperience. Instead, he focuses on the electronic readily loaded up with some private content. With that, he decides to do the rational and mature thing and ask nicely. “Noted. So, uh, can I have my phone back now?” 

To his shock, Bucky merely flashes a smirk and his thumb scrolls half-heartedly over the thread. Thereafter, he leans toward Steve and raises his cell for him to see. “Oh, look, it’s a video,” he teases. “What could Y/N send that would take priority of training?” 

There’s an unspoken let’s see then a metal finger taps the play button. Before Peter can think, much less react, Captain American and the Winter Soldier are watching how he effortlessly renders his pretty little girlfriend into a cute nonsensical yet eager mess— 

In his point-of-view shot, the ratio holds in portrait view in a bid to capture every bit of you. Above you, the camera focuses on you and your beautifully debauched state beneath warm lighting where it’s unalienable that the camera was made for you. 

Your eyes are dilated brightly, desperate with desire as your lashes flutter up at him. A sheen coats your features and glistens like glitter at the highest points of your face while the shape of your face is framed by your stretched arms. 

Your wrists are bound over your head, splotched with expertly sprayed strong, white webs. The mesh sticks them together in a criss-cross, comfortable but nearly impossible to break out of, fixed in place atop his headboard. The tautness tugs a mild strain on your figure so your breasts are jutting out like an offering, and it’s obvious he’s taken advantage of it. Darkened marks adorn your glowing complexion, peppered across your décolletage with imprints of his teeth; including your nipples, sucked swollen and tender. 

The angle trails down until it reveals the sight of him mercilessly pounding inside of you. His better-than-average girth is sliding in and out of your tight channel; slicked in shared translucent essence, creaming around the base, your inner walls visibly clinging to his cock with every backward stroke. His hand splays on your mound, using his thumb to abuse your engorged clit. He easily keeps the sensitive nub pinned under his control despite your wildly twisting hips. 

Like the display, the soundtrack is equally obscene. Loud, your stuffed depths gush and squelch as skin slaps rhythmically. Your breathy, wanton moans overshadow both, drawn out whimpers, almost nonsensical other than the syllable of his name. A melody of neediness, you sound so fucking pretty, (depraved, like a whore, you once told him during your little film marathon with a sly smile), and for him specifically.

The frame pans upward and confirms you look just as good. A perfect mess, unhinged by the skilled ministrations of your boyfriend. Passion beads on your forehead like reflections off of a diamond. Panting, your lips are plumped from kissing parted with mewls of pleasure. 

“P - please—I need to—can I - I please—” You’re begging like the sweet little thing you are, incoherent babbling the result of his excessive edging. Of course, you know better than to give into the sensations ravaging you; instead you ignore your visceral desire and ask him for your release. “Peter, please!” 

A deep chuckle vibrates behind the camera as his big hand slides into view, trailing over your jiggling tits to the slope of your throat. “Maybe,” he says breathily and grasps the line of your jaw between his fingers. “Open your mouth first, babe.” 

No more preamble necessary, you follow his direction, your pink tongue flat over your Cupid’s bow. Immediately, a long string of his saliva drips into view and onto your taste buds; the vulgar act is accepted with a swallow and a quivering moan of, “T - thank you.” 

“Good girl,” he praises huskily, and the voiced approval has you visibly shivering. “Alright, then, pretty girl. Make it good for me, and c’mon—”

Before your otherworldly reckoning washes over you and his teammates can watch your bliss immortalized in film, Peter snatches his property back. 

Not much force is necessary as Bucky’s grip has been stunned loose. A dark expression permeates on young hero’s face but not because of embarrassment; if he was still nineteen or eighteen, he would’ve been mortified that his titular superiors caught a depraved glimpse of his sex life, on both his and your behalf. Rather than, there’s just a flit of annoyance when he folds his arms.

“Shit,” Bucky is the first to speak, exhaling the swear raggedly. His blue pupils have widened in obvious attraction, dilated dark, blinking rapidly as if it’ll help calm him down from the clip of you, his innocent seeming girlfriend, all ruined and begging. “Parker, fuck, I - I didn’t know you got down like that.” 

There’s a swell in his chest, pride beating steadily while he remains reticent-faced. He prefers you keep your bedroom activities secluded there. Yeah, he likes to be in control and you like to be controlled but it’s only in a sexual nature. Yet, their reactions—stunned, embarrassed and viscerally affected—surges smug satisfaction he’s never known before through his veins. 

Even the prestigious Captain America is bothered, though he may try to hide it. He clears his throat, a flustered pink coloring his cheeks. “Peter, uh,” he says, barely maintaining the confidence to look him in the eye after witnessing his girlfriend like that. “We - we shouldn’t have invaded your privacy like that.” 

“Uh-huh,” is Peter’s response, a hint of a smirk curling on one side of his lips. “Why don’t you guys call me after you’re finished with your cold showers, and we can actually train. Until then, I’m gonna go to my girl who’s more than eager to handle mine.” He pauses. “Maybe if you guys ask nice enough, I might let her show you how well I’ve trained her.”

[heyitsani]

WIP Wednesday

I’m trying to get some stuff done for JayDick Week next week right now.  And I swear I’ll have at least the first chapter of a couple of different fics, I just don’t know which ones.  But since it’s Wednesday, have a WIP from the one fic I promised Mel I would get at least part one posted for.

Mail Order Bride!Jason under the cut because this snippet is longer than I thought it was.  And it’s totally unedited, as usual.  I wrote it and moved on, so forgive any mistakes.  They’ll get attention later.

“Thank you again,” Jason said as he held the door open for Tim to head outside and him to follow. With a deep breath, he took a look around and frowned at the crowd gathered at the station.  “What do you suppose that’s about?”  He asked, glancing over at Tim, who had the same frown on his face.

The kid shrugged and looked at him to see what he wanted to do.  So Jason let his curiosity lead him and they headed toward the crowd to see what exactly was happening.  The closer he got, the more understanding he gained.  From couples leading dirty children away from the area, to the tops of tiny heads he could see just above the heads of the crowd.

The Orphan Train had come into town.

“Pa?”

Looking down at Tim, he creased his brow.  Did he want to expose the kid to what could have been his life?  Or did he want to shield him from the truth?

“If that blonde girl would let the other one go, I’d bring her home,” a man was grumbling as he passed, walking with another man away from the crowd.  “Not gettin’ involved in that rukus.”  That made Jason frown more.  Looking away from Tim he craned his neck to see if he could figure out what the man was referencing.  

Then he saw a small blonde girl clinging tightly to an even smaller black haired girl.  The final two on the stage.  And Jason knew exactly what he was about to do.  He just hoped Dick meant what he said when he mentioned he liked kids.

Gripping Tim’s hand, Jason pushed through the crowd and went to the person in charge.  

“I’ll take them both in,” he told the man who was still trying to convince people to take the girls. The man stopped and looked at him, eyes wide and frozen.  Jason knew he looked much more up to Dick’s standards now and the people of the town knew him as the Sheriff’s husband, making him respectable.

“Uh sir, perhaps you should speak with the Sheriff first.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed and he felt his temper rising, but he kept it under check.  “I said,” he ground out, “I’ll take both of them.  The Sheriff would back me up on this decision.” Releasing Tim’s hand, Jason pulled out his money clip and tossed some money at the man before walking up the stairs to speak to the two girls.  He stopped a few feet in front of them and looked them both other.  Both were skinny and dirty, but they didn’t look bruised or broken like Tim had when Jason had found him.  “My name is Jason and this is my boy, Tim,” Jason gestured to Tim who gave the two girls a wide smile that seemed to pique their curiosity.

“We ain’t leavin’ each other.”  The blonde glared at Jason and the man just laughed.  “What’s so funny?”

“I’m not asking you to separate.  I’m asking if you two would like to come home with us.  My husband and I have a room big enough for the pair of you and you’ll be safe.”  Both girls watched him for a moment before looking at each other, the black-haired girl rapidly moving her fingers in the most fascinating way.  He recognized it as sign language from one of his neighbors back in New York having been deaf and he learned a bit to be able to speak to the man, but he didn’t know much.  Apparently, though, the blonde girl did.

“I’m Stephanie and this is Cassandra,” the blonde finally spoke again, straightening her shoulders and giving Jason a nod.  “Cass doesn’t speak but she can hear just fine.  Her father was a bastard, and I stole her away from him.”  

That was curious.  

“Pa and I know a bit about bastard fathers,” Tim spoke up, stepping forward.  “He and Dat aren’t bastard fathers.”

With another glance shared between the two, Cass and Stephanie gave identical nods and Jason nodded back.  “All right, I suppose we should go break the news to Dick.  Do you have any belongings?”  The girls both held up small satchels that Jason hadn’t noticed before and he frowned.  He’d have to ask Dick to grab them a few premade items on his way home.  With a jerk of his head, he turned and headed toward the main road so they could drop in on Dick at his office.  Hopefully the man wasn’t too busy and none of the town gossips who had seen him already made a point to drop by.

Jason trusted the man with his life, but there were still a few things he didn’t know about Dick. And hearing big news like ‘surprise you’re a father of three now!’ was probably something that he didn’t want to hear from a random person.

Glancing back, he almost came to an abrupt stop when he saw Tim walking between the two girls with one of their hands clasped in each of his own.  Jason hadn’t bothered to think how Tim would take to him randomly adding to their family, but apparently he hadn’t needed to worry.  It made that warm feeling that had been taking up residence in his chest a lot more frequently since coming to California grow just a bit more.  It was a nice feeling, something he had only ever experienced with Roy and Lian, and he wondered if this was how home was supposed to feel.

“Here we are,” Jason heard Tim tell the girls as Jason grabbed the hand of the door and pulled it open so the three of them could go inside.  While Stephanie and Cassandra seemed a bit hesitant, Tim just walked them in with him with no hesitation.

“Timmy!”  Jason heard Dick’s voice call out before he had even stepped foot into the building himself.  “Is this a surprise visit?”  He questioned and Jason watched from near the door as Dick rounded the counter and moved over in front of the three kids.  “Are these your...friends…?”  Dick asked, eyes looking over at Jason with a bit of a curious look before his eyes widen slightly and he figured out what exactly was happening.  “Sisters, then.”

Tim nodded and introduced the two girls to Dick, who knelt down to get on their level and smiled at the pair.  “Pa said they could live with us.”  Dick looked over at him with an amused twinkle in his eyes and chuckled before looking back at the girls.

“Well, Pa is correct. We have more than enough room and I think you two seem like just the ones to join our little family.”  Jason could see the girls relaxing just a bit more as Dick stood and ran a hand over each of their heads.  “Timmy, why don’t you show them your stash in my desk while I talk to Pa for a moment.”

Without needing anymore prompting, the boy tugged the two of them around the front desk and toward the office in the back where Dick worked.  Once they were both sure the kids were out of earshot, Dick looked at Jason with an amused smile and raised eyebrows.

A shrug of his shoulders, Jason slipped his hands into his pockets.  “They wouldn’t be separated and no one wanted both.  I didn’t get much out of them other than Cassandra doesn’t talk but knows sign language and can hear just fine.  I’m assuming the no talking has something to do with her father who Stephanie called a bastard.”  Dick hummed and looked back in the direction the kids had run off in.  Jason knew he wasn’t worried about what trouble they could get into, but more needed a moment to process.

“They have nothing in way of the basics?”

“Not unless those small satchels are magical.”  Dick laughed and shook his head as he turned his back on Jason and leaned over the desk, displaying the long line of his back and the all too tempting ass perfectly as he grabbed a paper and pen.  When Dick turned around and Jason’s eyes were still where Dick’s ass had been, Dick smirked and Jason coughed, looking away and mentally begging for his blush to vanish.

“Make a list of what they need,” Dick handed over the paper and pen.  “I’ll leave a little early tonight and get enough to hold them over until you can get them to the tailor for a proper fitting.”

[sunflowersteves]

bloody & bruised || subway fiasco

Mob!Bucky Barnes x Boxer!Reader

𝒄𝒉. 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: You meet an entitled asshole on the subway before training. After training, Shuri asks you to go get drinks with her. What happens when that same entitled asshole owns the bar?

Author’s Note: So, this series is completely new and improved. I decided to start completely fresh and recreate it. I hope you all enjoy, I’m happier with this series!

Warnings: swearing, asshole!bucky

series m.list // m.list

You entered the Metropolitan Correctional Center in lower Manhattan. You signed in, noticing the girl at the front desk popping her gum annoyingly loud. She never spared you a look as she spoke, “visitor?” You replied which then she continued to not give a fuck about your presence and hit the button that opened the gate. You greeted the guard and put your personal belongings in a tub and proceeded into the hall with the rest of the visitors, waiting to see an inmate. 

You tapped your heels gently on the concrete floor. Fuck, could this take any longer? The loud buzz of the doors that contained the inmates flooded into your ear and made you jump. 

“Line up, boys!” The guards yelled at the inmates to walk through the hallway door. Bucky’s hard glare settled onto his face before his eyes landed on your figure. A playful stare rolled over towards your face, that devious look was always hooded between his eyes. 

Your fiancée looked good, prison had done well on him with his newly cut hair and subtle that was growing longer.

You both pick up the phone, your garnet-colored chipped nails partially scraping against the phone. His eyes flickered to your bloody knuckles, they were thumping hard against your skin. You watched his lips curve into that luscious grin.

“Hey, baby girl.”

                | 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐫 |                                                                 

You were running through crowds, pushing others trying to get to the subway.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, move asshole!”

You were totally and royally fucked at the moment. Your mind could only seize panic at the idea of being late and facing Carol’s wrath. You had been training with her for five months and the rumors were very much true, she was a tough lady. Carol Danvers, was a famous boxer that allowed you to be mentored by her. 

She saw you one night, walking underneath the stars and bright skyscrapers when a couple of men had paraded you. She almost stepped in until she saw you give three uppercuts and two kick to the balls. Her eyebrow only raised in interest before she asked you if you wanted to be mentored, to be better than you already are. Of course, you recognized her, even the newbies to boxing recognized her so you immediately agreed.

However, today just wasn’t your day. You spilled coffee all over your white shirt, you were held up at work having to do extra paperwork and now you’re going to be late for training. 

Normally, she’d praise you for always being on time and punctual but not today. She would probably yell at you to run a couple of miles more. You ran down the stairs and quickly swiped your metro card, pushing the gate. You were full-on running now, the subway train was already here and about to close.

You were just barely able to make it, a huff escaping your lungs as the doors slammed immediately behind you. You looked at your watch, 8:23 pm it read, your eyes widened and you muttered a light “shit.” 

There was hardly anyone on the subway, which was kind of weird considering that it was only eight. You peered over towards the cart next to you and saw that it was full, people were packed right next to each other. Your eyebrows furrowed and you turned towards the right, noticing a group of people stare at you.

Your eyes flicker towards a brunette, a sly smirk was fitted on his face. He had two women sitting right next to him, they were practically on his lap. They giggled at anything he said and stared at him with bright stary eyes. A sigh escaped your lips, you felt bad for them honestly. You’ve been there as well, craving attention and wanting anything materialistic. You knew there was nothing wrong with that, however, it can become pretty toxic sometimes.

“Wanna join us doll?”

Your eyes rolled over his form, he had an expensive tailored black suit. It was paired with expensive Versace sunglasses that sat right on his fluffy brown hair. It was like his cherry lips were suck in a smirk, cockiness just radiated off of him. He was pretty attractive, you weren’t going to lie but he wasn’t anything impressive as far as his attitude and demeanor. 

You could guess he was a misogynistic prick, thinking that women were just his plaything and money could buy them. You maintained a mundane expression as your eyes lifted to meet his. You could see his jaw was clenched at your bored expression, but it was true. This man was just another dude being called a lady killer while the girls around him were called sluts. 

“No.” 

His eyes widened in surprise, no one had ever denied him before. He got everything he wanted; women, money, territory, and nice things. Even his most trusted friends around him had never denied the things that he asked for. Not to mention his lackeys were always drenched in fear so he got anything he wanted.

He looked over to see Steve holding an amused and surprised expression. So did Natasha and Sam, amusement clouded over their eyes. The girls beside him gasped at your answer and his hands squeezed their thighs.

“You don’t know who I am, do you?” That stupid smirk had clicked back onto his face as he continued to stare at you. His eyes traveled down from your eyes onto your form. You were wearing your favorite pair of matching Nike’s leggings and sports bra. For boxing, it was a common rule to wear nothing baggy. 

“No, but I don’t care either.” Your voice remained monotone and your face screamed boredom. You clicked your tongue and went back to scrolling on your phone, hoping he’d just leave you alone. How long will this subway ride take?

A sudden surge of anger filled his stomach at your still bored expression. Who were you talking to the biggest and baddest of New York City like that? You were just some girl, a nobody. Bucky, however, was everything and on top of the world. He had money, could get any girl he wanted, had the most expensive house in Brooklyn, and covered the most crime in the city. He was not just going to let you dismiss the Bucky Barnes like that.

His eyes wandered towards you again. He followed the placement of your nose, your beautiful cheekbones, and pink glossed lips. You are very attractive and Bucky is definitely not hiding his stare despite the two women around him.

“You from around here, doll?” There was a short pause before you answered. You were honestly getting pretty tired of this dude talking to you on an already shit day.

“Do you like prying into stranger’s lives?” Steve and Natasha snickered in front of him, their arms holding onto the railings above them. He just figured you had gotten into a fight of some sort, intrigue hitting him like a brick. 

“Jus’ the pretty ones.” You had to stop yourself from giving him a giant eye roll. You also really wanted to slap that smirk off of his face, it was infuriating. Just because he’s some hotshot doesn’t make it an excuse to be a dick. He was a giant cliche; the big successful man that has a parade of women around him, tattoos, expensive attire, and he probably has a fancy house. It was honestly sickening.

You looked over to see his jaw clenched, his stare was hard and a bit frightening. You didn’t want to be in deep shit with whoever this dude was, he seemed like his lawyers could tear you apart. So, you let your walls down just for a teensy itty bitty second.

“No. I’m from Morris Heights.” His eyebrows shot up, he wondered why you moved to Brooklyn which was on the other side of the city. 

“Bronx, huh?” You just nodded, turning your attention back on your phone. You look up to see signs that signify that this was your stop, especially since the voice on the subway was always inaudible. 

“It’s been a pleasure, doll.” You get up and make your way in front of the door, completely ignoring his sentence. You turn around just before the doors open, looking from the bodyguards, to the women, and then back onto him.

“See you around, prick.”

--

You rush into the gym doors, barely making it past 8:40 on the dot. Great, you were ten minutes late. You dropped your gym bag on the floor, emptying fast breaths from running for so long. You look up to see the only trainee in the room to be Shuri. You noticed she was tinkering on one of the machines. She always had a knack for wanting to improve every single gadget or machine that came before her presence. 

You see Carol waking up to you with a scowl and you knew it was for being late. She patted you on the back as you gulped. “Go run an extra mile, kid.” You raised your eyebrows at the less harsh punishment than expected. You assumed she’d give you five extra miles or something even worse.

“Don’t make me give you two extra miles.” Shuri snorts at the comment which makes you send a playful glare in her direction. You walk out the doors again and start jogging around the block.

You couldn’t help but think about the guy on the subway. It was quite strange to see a whole entire cart was empty just for him and his friends. The other carts were full, sardine-packed is what it looked like. Not to mention his annoying cockiness, what the fuck was up with that?

He was so pretentious like he could do anything to anyone and get away with it. It’s like he’s some trust fund dick who thinks that the world revolves around him. 

Sweat started to drop down your forehead and you realized that you’ve run enough miles. You push open the doors to the gym, going back inside. You see Shuri still tinkering and Carol was in her office with a phone call.

You walk over to the table in the corner and grab the white bands. You start wrapping them around your knuckles and walk over to one of the many punching bags. You started to make small punches at the bags, watching as it swung back and forth from your force.

Shuri then turns to you, looking over at you with excitement. “Hey, tomorrow Wanda, Gamora, and I going to this new bar in Crown Heights want to come?”

“Of course. I could use some fun.” Shuri brightens her smile and continues to go back to figuring out the things in front of her.

You looked down at the newspaper that sat next to her and some parts of a machine. She was required to set newspapers down because of an incident where oil was spilled all over the gym. Needless to say, Carol wasn’t happy and Shuri couldn’t use any of the machines for a month.

You couldn’t help but just stare at the caption, this one was from today. Curiosity always gets the best of you.

MOB BOSS JAMES BARNES RIDES THE SUBWAY, WHAT COULD THAT MEAN FOR THE CRIME IN THE CITY?

Then attached was a small picture underneath the headline. Your eyes widened and you felt like the air had just been shot out of you. You grab the newspaper and get a better stare, just making sure. You had to make sure.

You see the little picture even better. There was the man that was on the subway. He was smoking a cigarette, the smoke coming out of his mouth. His sleeves were rolled up which showed the plethora of tattoos that were scattered across his skin. Next to him were two women, giving him neck kisses.

Great, the person you called a dick was the biggest mob boss in the tristate area. 

You were so fucked.

~~

Permanent Taglist: @hailmary-yramliah @kitkatd7 @captainchrisstan @angstysebfan​

chapter two

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Flirtation and Fistfights

Supernatural/Criminal Minds

Word Count: ~2940

Warnings: Drinking, pot smokin’, and (in case you couldn’t guess from the title) a fistfight. Somebody is giving a homeless woman a hard time, Spencer and Dean do not appreciate it.   

A/N: This is part of the Rockstar AU! It’s also for my Rockstar AU square on my Criminal Minds Trope Bingo card. Convenient, right? 

Lemming line inspired by an Ao3 tag. Continued cheerleading for this series provided by @stunudo​, who is wonderful. 

Spot the “It Takes A Village” reference! 

The post-show adrenaline rush is made even sweeter by the fact that there’s a hot tub and a couple easy days in Dean’s near future. The first L.A. show is in the bag. They have another tomorrow — same venue means minimal gear-schlepping and setup, thank fuck — followed by a full day off. 

Neither band has played L.A. in a while, and Dean’s seen a few familiar faces milling around already. It’s nice, aside from the small talk, but he’s used to that; the way he travels, he rarely has time to stay in one place and get to know people beyond the basics. He’s perfected the spiel: “tour’s been great, we’re going into the studio when it’s over, how’s your kid/spouse/dog?” etc. There are a bunch of those conversations happening around him, but people are starting to trickle out slowly, friends and acquaintances heading home or closing out. 

While they’re here, they’re staying at Casa de Pop Star, and Dean can’t lie, he’s looking forward to some poolside naps, movies on a decent-sized screen, and various other creature comforts. 

He’s getting another drink first, though. He leans up against the venue bar and looks around. 

At the end of the bar, Spencer is talking to a blonde, and it takes Dean a second to place her: Lila Archer, movie star and all-around hottie. Dean gapes at them for a second. He can’t see Spencer’s face, but she’s clearly flirting, standing close and putting a hand on his arm. Dean had no idea the kid had game like that. Granted, he and Spencer aren’t exactly close, but. 

Dean hasn’t figured him out yet. Dean is usually good at figuring out what makes people tick, what they’re hiding behind their masks, but he can’t make heads or tails of whatever the fuck happens in Spencer’s head. He has this way of looking at Dean as if he’s an alien species, or something, all bemused and vaguely perturbed like he can’t make sense of the words that just came out of Dean’s mouth. 

Then again, Spencer’s high more often than not, and they don’t exactly have a lot in common, and he’s a goddamn space cadet even when he’s sober, so... maybe he just really doesn’t know what Dean’s talking about half the time. 

He’s not like that with everybody, is the thing; Sam and Spencer got along immediately. They have this whole quirky dork thing going on where they talk in half-sentences that don’t make sense to anybody else. 

Not that Dean’s jealous or anything. Whatever.  

Dean’s drink arrives and he’s distracted for a moment, but when he looks again, Spencer’s shaking his head. Lila’s face falls. A second later, he’s giving her an awkward little wave, and she heads for the door. 

Yeah, Dean’s not usually one for gossip, but he really wants to know what the fuck just happened. Maybe Spencer’s one of those geeks who’s just completely fuckin’ oblivious when chicks are hitting on them? Dean can set him straight. It’ll be a bonding exercise. 

He weaves through the crowd to where Spencer is downing the last of his drink. 

“Tell me you did not just shoot down Lila Archer.”  

Spencer makes a face. “I could tell you that, but I’d be lying.” 

“Dude, what the hell?” Dean laughs. “Did she just march up and introduce herself? I didn’t know she was coming to the show.” 

“I met her at a party a while ago,” Spencer tells him. He’s looking up at the ceiling pensively, avoiding eye contact as he shreds a napkin. “In New York, when she was still in school. I, um. She’d been talking to this skeevy guy, and I saw him slip something in her drink, so.” 

“What did you do?” 

“Grabbed it and threw it in his face,” Spencer admits sheepishly. “And then I got punched, and she offered to, um, take me home and thank me, but I was kinda bleeding a lot. She gave me her number instead.” 

“That’s… actually pretty badass,” Dean comments. Spencer gives him half a smile. “So you guys kept in touch?” 

“She moved to L.A. not long after that. We’ve hung out a couple times, when I’ve been in town, but… I don’t think we’re interested in the same thing.” 

Dean almost smacks himself on the forehead. “I didn’t realize you were into dick, sorry.” 

“Oh, I’m not.” 

There’s a pause. Spencer doesn’t seem mad; his mouth is quirked in something resembling a smile, like he’s laughing at Dean for not asking the right questions. 

Is Spencer just like that, or is he not offering any more information because he wants this conversation to be over? 

Whatever. Dean’s curious. 

“So, you’re into chicks but not Lila friggin’ Archer? Are you telling me she’s not your type? 

“It’s not that,” Spencer says, smirking. 

Dean blinks a couple times. Emily told him the other day that everybody in the band except Hotch was single, so… he’s coming up blank. 

“You gotta give me a hint or something.”

“I’m not into sex,” Spencer says, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh.” Dean hesitates, taking a drink to hide his surprise. “Huh. Is that… huh. Are you — are you out, or whatever?” 

“I’m not not out.” Spencer shrugs. “Most people just assume, one way or the other, and I don’t bother to correct them. I just… don’t really care what people think about me, so if they don’t ask, I don’t bother. I’m not hiding anything, though.” 

“Huh,” Dean repeats. He has no idea what to say. 

“If I do tell them, most people argue with me anyway,” Spencer says wryly. “Tell me I’ll change my mind when I meet the right person, or whatever. I tell them they’re probably right and change the subject.” 

Dean huffs out a laugh. “That doesn’t piss you off?”

“Sorta, but…” Spencer grimaces, fidgeting for a second. “I don’t like confrontation, or whatever. It’s not important. I’d rather just… not talk about myself.”  

“Sorry for… y’know.” 

“No biggie.” 

Dean still feels awkward, but Spencer doesn’t seem bothered. He just sits there, tapping out a rhythm on the bar top, smiling to himself. 

Dean doesn’t do well with silences. 

It occurs to him that he has a peace offering: “Wanna come outside and smoke a joint with me? Could use some fresh air.” 

“Hell yes I do,” Spencer says, brightening immediately.  

They make their way backstage and then through the labyrinthine venue hallways until they come out at the back lot, where the buses are idling. Hotch is on his phone across the lot, and a bouncer near the fence is saying something into a walkie-talkie, but for the most part, it’s quiet. 

Dean lights the joint and offers Spencer the first hit, leaning back against the brick wall. 

“Y’know, nobody’s ever actually asked me about my sexuality,” Dean tells him, and he’s not in the habit of volunteering information like that, but it seems to get Spencer’s attention. 

“Really?” 

“I didn’t ever think about it, until… recently. But it’s true. A fuckload of interviews, over the years, and like you said, everybody just assumes.” 

“Because you don’t contradict people’s ideas of what a man should look like, or talk like, or dress like,” Spencer says bluntly. “As long as you fit within a certain box…” He shrugs, blowing smoke up at the sky. 

“Yeah, my dad was big on that box,” Dean says ruefully. “Wouldn’t he be proud?” 

“Bet it won’t take long for them to start asking. Not if you keep wearing nail polish.” 

Dean takes the joint and frowns at his hands. He hadn’t even thought about that. 

“Really? That’s all it takes?” he asks. 

Spencer just snorts. Dean’s stomach does a nervous flip-flop. 

He’s got an interview with Spin scheduled for next week, and he doubts anybody will comment right away, but eventually... eventually there will be questions. What will he say, if they ask? 

He’s still lost in thought, looking down at his free hand, as he exhales and passes to Spencer. With his eyes on the chipped green polish, it takes him a second to realize that Spencer hasn’t grabbed the joint. 

Dean looks up. Spencer is staring intently at something off to their side, and Dean follows his gaze over to the chain link fence and roll-away gate that separates them from the road. There’s a homeless woman there, hands over her ears, pacing back and forth. The security guy is saying something to her, his voice raised, as he starts to pull the gate open. 

Spencer moves abruptly, striding away from Dean without a word, and Dean hesitates for a second before pinching out the joint and following him. 

As he gets closer, Dean can make out what the bouncer is saying, in a loud, condescending voice like he’s talking to a toddler: “Move. Away. From. The. Gate. Jesus Christ, can you fuckin’ hear me?” 

The woman is muttering to herself agitatedly, and she flinches away from the guy’s voice, but she doesn’t look up from her feet as she paces. 

“What are you doing?” Spencer snaps at the guard. The edge in his tone makes Dean hurry to catch up. 

“She won’t get outta the way,” he says, rolling his eyes. He turns to the woman again and shouts, “Hell-looooo, anybody home?” 

“Have you tried speaking to her like she’s a goddamn human being?” Spencer says, low and clipped. 

“Whoa, hey,” Dean says uneasily. Not that he doesn’t want to head-butt this asshole, but Spencer’s a quarter of the guy’s mass, at best.

“You wanna give it a try?” the guy scoffs. “Trust me, she’s not getting the picture. I’m gonna call the cops.” He directs the last words at the woman, who’s still pacing, more and more agitated: “Crazy bitch.”

“You should apologize now,” Spencer says, sharp and quiet and ice-cold. Dean puts a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, and Spencer shoves it away without looking at him. 

The bouncer has the nerve to laugh. “Calm the fuck down, buddy.” 

“This is calm, and I’m not your fucking buddy,” Spencer snaps, taking another step closer. 

“Dude,” Dean interrupts. “Spencer, c’mon.” 

Spencer’s frozen for a moment, shaking with anger, but after a second, he steps back reluctantly. He reminds Dean of a hissing cat with its back arched and its claws exposed. 

“There you go, listen to your boyfriend,” the bouncer laughs. 

Dean considers him for a half-second, works up some saliva, and spits in his face. 

Everything moves quick and blurry after that; the guy shoves Dean back, cursing, and there’s a shout in the distance as he winds up. Before Dean can duck out of the way of the guy’s fist, Spencer steps in front of him — only to go flying, because he’s a fucking twig and should really know better. Dean sees red. He punches back. 

Then Hotch has the guy’s arms pinned behind his back, hauling him away, and Sam is grabbing Dean’s wrist before he can take another swing. Spencer grunts something incoherent from the ground. At least he’s conscious. 

“Motherfucker,” Dean snaps. “I’m fine, Sam, get off me.” He shakes out his smarting hand and glares daggers at the bouncer’s retreating back as Hotch and Rossi manhandle him into the building. Spencer makes a pained noise; he’s cupping his hands over his nose, and there’s blood dripping between his fingers. 

“Dean?” Cas is jogging over, Morgan behind him. He puts a hand on Dean’s arm, looking him up and down anxiously. “What happened?” 

“Don’t worry about me,” Dean says gruffly, and turns to Spencer. “You okay, kid?” 

“‘M fide,” Spencer mumbles. “Is she still…” 

Dean glances over. The woman is sitting with her back to the fence, curled up with her arms around her knees. 

“Fuck,” Dean mutters. “What should I —”

“I got it,” Cas tells him, and slips through the gate, approaching the woman with an easy, open smile. 

Cas was homeless for a while. Dean hates hearing him talk about it — not because it makes Cas sad, but exactly the opposite; he’s so matter-of-fact about the whole thing that it makes Dean sad. He tells stories, sometimes, and he’s completely fuckin’ blasé even when he’s talking about things that make Dean ache to think about. 

Dean hovers for a second. Sam is crouching next to Spencer, holding his balled-up flannel to Spencer’s nose, and Dean feels useless. There’s gotta be something he can do to help. 

Then he remembers something Cas said, once, and he turns his back on the scene and jogs off to the bus. 

He makes a beeline for the bunk under his, which is designated for storage. He’s got an almost-new backpack he’s been using as an overnighter, when he doesn’t want to lug his whole suitcase into a hotel; he dumps it out unceremoniously. 

He grabs a blanket first, the soft fleece one, rolling it up tight to stick it in the backpack. Then there’s a big hoodie, one Dean borrowed from their merch table the other day. He has a whole collection of tiny sealed soaps and shampoos from various hotels, and he runs to the kitchen to put them in a zip-lock bag. In the bathroom, he grabs a pack of wet wipes, the packaged spare toothbrush that Charlie keeps for “emergencies” — aka when she inevitably leaves hers at a hotel — and about half of their first aid kit. Then he ransacks the kitchen: several packs of ramen, a box of pop-tarts, couple bottles of water… he pauses, considering Sam’s nasty-ass granola bars, before tossing them in too. Sam can get more. He fishes the cash out of his wallet, shoves it in a zip-lock, and then closes the whole mess up. 

Then for a second he just freezes, looking down at the backpack, wondering if he’s being presumptuous or some shit. 

Dean’s always been suspicious of so-called “Good Samaritans.” Everything has strings attached. If it were him, he wouldn’t accept unsolicited help, but he’s been told that’s maybe a psychological flaw, not a virtue. 

Cas told him once about a woman named Hannah (he called her an angel) who gave him a backpack of supplies when he first ended up on the street. Said she probably saved his life. It’s one of those stories Dean doesn’t like to think about, but… he remembers. 

When he hustles back to the fence, Spencer is on his feet, Sam’s bloody flannel clutched to his face as he talks to Rossi and Morgan. 

Cas is still with the woman, who is on her feet, now, looking rattled but much calmer than she did before. Cas is talking to her in that direct, no-bullshit way he has; it’d be off-putting, from anybody else, but Cas is so earnest that it’s comforting instead. 

The woman looks wary, when she sees Dean approaching, so he hangs back until Cas comes to him. 

“I grabbed some stuff,” he says anxiously. “I didn’t know… is that weird? It’s just, like, shampoo and a blanket and — sorry. I didn’t know what to do.” 

Cas just stares at him for a second, his expression completely unreadable. Dean’s stomach sinks. 

“You remembered,” Cas says hoarsely, just as Dean opens his mouth to apologize.  

The back of Dean’s neck feels hot. “Yeah?” 

Cas gives him a quick, fierce, affectionate smile. He reaches out and squeezes Dean’s arm once before taking the bag. 

“There’s a shelter a couple blocks away. I’m going to walk her there. I’ll be back shortly.” 

He watches Cas go, and then he turns to see Spencer staring at them. Dean clears his throat uncomfortably. 

“Thanks, Schroeder,” he says. 

Spencer gives him that look again, like he has no idea what Dean is talking about. Maybe he’s concussed. He lowers the flannel, revealing a mess of dried blood and the beginnings of an impressive shiner. 

“Y’had my back,” he says thickly. Even through his rapidly-swelling nose, it sounds a lot like “Duh.” 

“The venue manager wants to talk to you,” Rossi announces. “Hotch saw enough to make it clear that the guy threw the first punch, so he’s most definitely getting fired, but just in case, they want it in your words.” 

“Fan-friggin-tastic,” Dean grouches. “Well, let’s get it over with. There’s a fuckin’ hot tub waiting for us, I’m ready to get the hell out of here.” 

“You sure you’re alright?” Rossi asks Spencer. “I swear, kid, you have the self-preservation instincts of a damn lemming.” 

“‘M’fide,” Spencer repeats, which is close enough to “fine,” apparently, that Rossi doesn’t push the issue. 

“You gotta be more careful with that pretty face of yours,” Morgan says, and Spencer flips him off. 

As he falls into step with Dean, heading back to the venue, Spencer mumbles, “Why d’I feel like I’b being sent t’the Princibal?” 

Dean chuckles, trying to imagine what a tiny (tinier) Spencer would’ve gotten in trouble for. 

“Hey, you mind tellin’ me why you just went feral on a guy who was the size of a fuckin’ hippo?” he asks.  

“Don’t like... bullies,” Spencer replies, clearly making an effort to enunciate. 

“Weren’t you just telling me how you try to avoid confrontation?”

“S’different.” Spencer shrugs. “Pisses me off. Don’t really care what happens to me, but —” 

“That’s healthy,” Dean needles. 

Spencer’s not looking at him, but his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to grin. “Takes one to know one.” 

Dean stops in his tracks and sputters for a second, turning a snort of laughter into a huff like he’s offended. Then he shakes his head and they keep walking.  

“Thanks,” Dean says again. “That was really fucking stupid, but thanks.” 

“You would’ve done the same for me,” Spencer says, like it’s a given.   

Dean smiles, because he’s right. Maybe he has more in common with Spencer than he thought. 

.

.

.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Ninety-One [PT. 2]

Words: 2.5K

Warning(s): explicit language, mentions of drug abuse, mentions of domestic abuse

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"Your little one is here as of right now." Dr. Telille says, pointing to a very little area to the far side of my womb and I smile before she switches the focus slightly and then looks at the screen with a slightly odd look before flipping through my chart. "At your previous Obstetrician, did they mention any abnormalities?" She asks me. 

"No." I shake my head. 

"You said in your history you've had recurrent miscarriages?" She asks next. 

"Yes." 

"Okay, Mrs. Sixx, don't be alarmed by this because there is a solution but this," she turns the screen to me again, pointing at a shadow in the picture that looks like it's creating bunny ears or something. "Is a layer of tissue that's not supposed to be there. It halts fetal growth, and ultimately causes miscarriages, often times even before a fetus is interacting with the tissue itself, physically." She informs me and I feel like my chest is throbbing from how hard my heart is beating. "The good news is that we can fix this, I've had to do a few surgeries like this before--we can go in and cut that tissue out without disturbing your baby, but we will need to have it done within the next week--two weeks at the most." She explains and I raise my brows. 

"What's my chance of carrying out my pregnancy to term without the surgery?" I ask, trying to stay calm. 

"With a successful surgery, there is a 80% chance of you carrying it to term, and a higher chance at not facing as many pregnancy difficulties in the future like you've had previously. Without the surgery, with your history, it's very, very probable that you won't get to four months without miscarrying--if that far." She adds. 

"What's the risk of this surgery causing complications?" I ask next. 

"30%." She replies and I breathe out. "You don't have to make a decision today, you can go home and think about it and talk about it with the father but we need to get it scheduled in the next few days." 

"Um, o-okay…" I rub my lips together. 

"And if you are interested in the surgery, we can go ahead and send it in and see if insurance will cover it." She assures me. 

"I don't have maternity insurance right now." I tell her and she looks at me uneasily. 

"No worries, we can figure the costs out after you decide if you want it or not." She tells me, calmly, and I just nod. 

I numbed myself. I would've been freaking out, having a meltdown, begging God to spare my damn baby for once...but as soon as she started in on what was wrong with me, the negative outcomes...I flicked the switch in my brain and just let myself feel absolutely nothing as best as I could. My nervousness was relief compared to blatant breakdown mode that I knew would hit inevitably.

And how the hell did I tell Duff and Nikki that I was going to need surgery that could potentially terminate my pregnancy--or suffer what I'd suffered before and still lose a baby? Oh, right. I didn't. At least, not as soon as I probably should have.

When I get to my new little house I'm renting with my savings, Duff's sitting on the little porch, drinking a beer. 

"How'd it go?" He asks me, standing up as I unlock the door. 

He couldn't go with me this time because he had to go look at a couple houses with Mandy, which I understand because they had already canceled once with a real-estate agent and would get charged extra if they missed another appointment. 

"Good." I lie, clearing my throat. 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." 

Whisky's barking at us until he realizes it's me, and then he won't get out from under my feet until I pat him on the head. 

"I need to finish unpacking." I say before Duff can ask anymore questions. 

"Well, it's your lucky day because I know how to unpack." He states, grinning. 

I go change into pajamas and when I get back, he's pulling pictures from one of the boxes, neatly placing them on the coffee table in the living room and I pick them up and start figuring out where to put them. 

"So, my family really wants me to bring you up." He says, optimistically. "I was thinking leave Sunday and come back next Saturday."

"...Duff, I can't just up and leave right now. I have to finish unpacking, and I'm gonna be meeting with Nikki once a week and then him and the guys once a week so that's two different…" I trail off as he cuts open another one of my packed boxes with his pocket knife, a look of disappointment on his face. "...It's not that I don't want to, you know. I just have a lot going on right now." 

"We'd just be gone for a week." He says, looking at me. "It's the only time off I have for a while since we're doing a few shows in New York and Europe." He adds. "And I really want my family to know you, kinda, before you have the baby." 

"I don't know." I hesitantly tell him and he licks his lips. "I don't know, Duff, okay? I just...ughhh." I groan, raking my hands through my hair. 

"If you don't want to meet my family then don't worry about it, Vivian." He says it a little passive aggressively and I raise my brows. 

"'Vivian'? Since when the hell am I 'Vivian'?" I ask, mimicking his tone. 

"That's your name isn't it?" He asks next and I cross my arms.

"You usually call me 'Viv', or...something…"

"Well, I'm not calling you, 'babe,' or, 'baby,' since we aren't dating anymore so…"

"You're being a dick." 

"I'm not being a dick. I'm just family oriented and I want my family to know you and our kid and you're making up excuses to not go and meet them."

"Excuse me for not wanting to be judged." I snap back. 

"They're not fucking judgemental." 

"Oh, so you're cussing at me now, too, huh?" 

"Quit trying to start an argument." He tells me. 

"I'm not starting an argument, I'm making a valid point." 

"You're making an assumption." He corrects me. "My family isn't judgemental. They're really not. I don't even think they're worried with the fact that you were married when we got together because they haven't said a word about it. They just want to meet you." 

"Matt didn't seem so cool about it." I mumble. 

"Matt was trying to keep both of us out of trouble." He explains. "He wasn't judging you. He just doesn't like drama and if we would've gotten caught he knew it'd just be a bunch of bullshit we'd have to get thrown at us." 

I just stare at him. 

"And I'm sorry for cussing at you, but I'm trying to be positive about all of this and I really don't want you to start bringing in your negativity." He exhales. 

"My negativity?" I raise my brows, laughing humorlessly. 

"Please, just come to Seattle with me next Sunday. I promise it'll be fun and my family's fun, they don't mean any harm by wanting you to come up and visit--they're already talking about planning a trip when it's born to be here for you and me both for a few days." He adds. 

I think about it, seeing his eyes glint a little as he slowly smiles at me like a hopeful puppy. 

"Okay." I relent and he puts his hands above his head, folding them together, letting out a loud, "Hallelujah!" and I roll my eyes, trying to hold back a chuckle. 

The truth is, I don't want to leave Nikki stewing that long after revealing to him my miscarriages. He never came back when he left the therapy session yesterday, and I was supposed to go back today but decided I needed another day to just think about everything, but because of Amber's schedule, we won't be able to get back in the same room together--aside from me just visiting him--until next Wednesday...but with Duff wanting to leave Sunday and come back that Saturday, I won't be able to meet then, either. A part of me isn't even sorry that I won't make it since the morale of Nikki's story is that he married a maestro of manipulation that can play victim like no other but is really an evil bitch who loves to make people suffer. 

I gathered that after reading: 

"I married a fucking demon."

"Vivian climbed from hell just to neuter me." 

"My wife's a fucking lunatic." 

"I sometimes think Vivian's waiting for me to die so she can get the money." 

"I hate her." 

"I don't know what's killing me faster: my looney wife, or smack. Doesn't matter--they're both my drug of choice." 

"If she didn't know how to fuck I would've already left her." 

"She flushed every bit of what Jason dropped off last night. Cost me a couple grand. I'm so pissed, if I knew she wouldn't beat the shit out of me and go batshit-ballistic, I'd lay her out on the fucking floor. I'm sure it'd be like foreplay in her sick mind, anyway." 

"I swear she cums every time she belittles me." 

And, my personal favorite: 

"Just woke up from a fucking nightmare. I was fucking around with Vivian and Vanity and once they got their satisfaction they started eating me alive while talking about their love for God. Even with them gnawing on me alive with their shark-like teeth and their completely black eyes, stripping flesh from my bone and going at it like a fucking pork chop, I was turned on. But as soon as they started about God, how good and wonderful he was, that's when I started panicking a little that I OD'd without realizing it and was in hell or some fucking incarnation of it. I see now that's how they both got me, being hot and knowing exactly what to do to get me going. And now they're both sucking the life out of me, eating me alive, while praying to their God and acting like they're blameless in my destruction. CHICKS = TROUBLE." 

At least we both agree that we married demons.

It was strange for me to realize how he saw me--well, how Sikki saw me. Once I was able to differentiate between the two of them, it hurt less reading what he'd write about me. It was just confusing. 

One page would be an entire rant (with unflattering, random song lyrics to match) about something I did that pissed him off--sometimes things I wouldn't even realize I did to make him upset and then the next page would be decently positive things about me that he'd profess after waking up sort of sober…

I knew he felt guilty about how he treated me, most of the entries from the end of '83 to '87 had "I'm an asshole" or "I really fucked up" or some version of it in them but the deeper into '87 he got, the less and less apologetic he got. Both in real time and his dairies. 

Despite the black and white of his diaries, one thing still lingered in the grey area…

I stare at the little TV on my dresser, bowl of captain crunch in hand as I stuff my face while flipping channels, Whisky gnawing on his chew toy as a flickering, fuzzy and static blaring familiar face flashes across the screen as I turn to the next channel. My heart stops for a moment, my finger immediately going back, the screen and audio clearing as I see her. 

Clear eyed and competent. A far removal from what I last saw of her with her gnashing teeth and tortured eyes, spewing at Nikki and I both before he and her got into a fight that left her dragged down the stairs of our old house...guilt tugs at me, remembering the look on her face, the pain, the hurt...perhaps she felt as bad as I did about the situation. 

He was the one telling her he was going to leave me and marry her, after all. My feury swallowed him before it ever thought about swallowing her. 

"...I'm currently looking at other scripts for other films." She replies very calm and composed to whatever question her interviewer was asking...I'm assuming this is part of her press run for her new movie coming out. 

"If you could write a ticket for yourself, Vanity, what would it be?" The woman asks next and she furrows her brows, slightly. 

"Write a ticket? To go somewhere?" 

"No, write a ticket for the rest of your life, and your career. Just everything about your life." She explains. 

"Ohhh," She thinks a moment before shaking her head slightly. "I wouldn't want to do that, actually, because, um, everytime I turn around something new's happening. I'm a very spontaneous person. I just like to get up and go, and I've been doing that since I was fifteen...so, um, I couldn't say I'd like to write that ticket." She chuckles a little, but not the crack-cackle I was used to seeing in her past interviews. 

She's actually sober here. 

"I just wanna go wherever life takes me." She continues. 

"What you're saying then, is, you couldn't write a ticket because what you would write wouldn't be as good as what could happen?" 

"No, I don't--"

"--No?"

"No, I don't think that, I'm not saying that at all. I feel that I have certain goals in my life. Very big, big, dreams that I set for myself. But I wouldn't wanna, um, question God's way about where he's going with me." She states. "That's just...not me." 

"If you could go back and change anything--"

"--Nothing." Vanity says, biting her lip nervously, shaking her head. 

"Any of the decisions?"

"Nothing." 

"Wouldn't change a thing?" 

"Nothing." She buckles down on it and I feel my eyes gloss over. "Wouldn't change a thing…" she trails off, thinking for a second. "...Can't say that I would." She adds, softly. "Because each time that I've done something, whether it be a mistake in my life, it's always...what you might call a mistake in my life is never a mistake to me. It was a definite meant to be and it was a definite learning process. So all the pain and all the glory...I wouldn't change a thing."

She's so unapologetically sincere. 

I cut the TV off as they start closing out the interview, and toss the remote across the room, losing my appetite and putting my bowl on my nightstand before I allow myself to replay what she just said. 

And I cry, not because she was in a relationship with him, not because she tried to steal him from me...I cry because I regret everything. I regret marrying Nikki. I regret meeting Duff. I regret getting pegnant. 

I'm not angry at her.

I envy her.

[1zashreena1]

Trading Trauma -13

18+, m/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary:  They share the rough stuff while trying to figure out how to be gentle with each other. And an antagonist?

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and ‘the code is more like guidelines’ outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

Detailed discussion of abuse in all forms- Physical-Mental-Emotional-Verbal*** SERIOSULY HEED THIS WARNING Anxiety attacks, vague hinting at mental-behavioral health disorders, plus size woman+fit man, This one is all feels and 

I Am So Sorry.

A/N:  Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I’m not a fan of “plot” so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

TAGLIST: @chelsfic ​ @symbiont13 ​ @nicke0115 ​​ @bunnykjm ​ @rosee-sensuelle ​ @girlpornparadise ​ @mandoplease ​ @heresathreebee ​ @xxsteph-enrixx ​ @jetiikad ​ @joalsglasses ​ @mutantcookiesecrets ​ @demoncatstone ​ @squidlywiddly87 ​ @lockedoutofmyotherblog ​ @poeedamerons ​

I believe gif came from @girlpornparadise​ 

Its a Friday like any other and Bastian picks you up like always. Only, something is wrong. You can tell because Bastian is silent; absolutely, completely, dead silent.

"So," You try from the passenger seat, "What the fuck is going on that you don't want to tell me?" Its raining and everything in New York is shaded in tones of gray. The gray buildings pass by, people in gray coats with gray umbrellas trudge along the sidewalk, even this SUV is gray. It still has new car smell. What happened that he bought a new SUV?

A muscle tics in Bastian's jaw as he tenses under your attention. Pale green eyes dart to you, then back to the road. Finally, Bastian speaks, "Alicia was here today." 

Your jaw drops. "What? Why? Is he okay?" Your immediate concern is Diego, both his physical safety and his mental well-being. Bastian's silence is an obvious negative. After staring at him for an indeterminate amount of time and receiving no further details you go back to the windshield. "We can order food later, just take me to him."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Diego is stationed on the sectional when you arrive, working on his laptop. Bastian places your bag just inside the penthouse then retreats back into the elevator. That's never a good sign.

Diego looks up and smiles, its blindingly gorgeous and your heart stutters. The laptop gets dumped to the side in favor of grabby hands going for your curves. You climb into his lap, knees outside his hips, loop your arms around his neck, and fold him down into your softness. With a huge sigh, Diego melts into you.

"Princess. Missed you." His rumble is soft and quiet against your neck. He wraps you up tighter and squeezes your squishy middle. "Stay. Please." What started as an order ended as a plea in under two words. 

You stroke over his hair, kissing his forehead and nodding gently. "I'm here, baby. Are you okay?" The likelihood of getting a straight answer is slim but you have to ask. You need him to know that you care, that you want to take care of him. 

He nods into your neck and settles further. Apparently this is where I sit now. His breathing is normal, he doesn't flinch or jump wherever you pet him, and his clothing is in place. As far as you can tell, he is physically well. The only thing out of place here is his hidden face.

He is surprisingly cuddly in private, your Murder Panther rather enjoys petting, but he has never hidden from you. Its concerning, especially in conjunction with Bastian's hushed announcement in the car. 

"What do you need me to do?" You keep your voice even and quiet because you're not sure how upset he really is. Broad shoulders shrug under you, he seems almost defeated. You try a different tact and ask, "Okay, when did you last eat?" 

"Dish mornin." Diego mumbles into your skin like a kid. In truth, he is like a large child a lot of the time. He gets easily distracted by activity and is frequently lost in whatever task happens to be most interesting to him at that exact moment. He fidgets minutely under you, a tiny bit of his normal reaction to your presence is evident. 

You turn to smirk into his cheek, "I meant food, but if that's what you need, well, it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make." His deep chuckle shakes your entire body. "Where's my phone? Lemme order dinner before you go after dessert."

Diego pulls your phone out of the back pocket of your jeggings and passes it to you, then replaces it with a huge hand. You laugh but proceed to order from that steakhouse you like in Brooklyn.

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

By the time dinner has been completed Diego is relaxed and loose-limbed, sprawled on his back across your lap in the corner of the sectional. He is still quiet, but if you keep both hands on your tablet a little too long he makes his displeasure known with a growly whine. You’ve been absent-mindedly petting him for some time when you decide to try again.

"So, can I do anything to help you? Listen? Massage? Cuddle? Err, cuddle more intensely?" You don't look at him in an attempt to not make him uncomfortable. 

Diego heaves a sigh and holds your hand flat to his chest. You can feel his heart, its picking up speed and you feel a little guilty. He licks his lips and finally speaks, "Alicia was waiting for me when we came back from a meeting this morning. She has been questioning my books. I suppose she doubts my math." Diego waves a dismissive hand in the air.

You have seen this man complete statistical mathematical analysis in his head, everyone knows his math isn't a problem. 

"Um. First of all, no. Secondly, n-o-o-o." You draw the word out in your sarcasm and Diego snorts with amusement. "Why do you think she was really here?" You ask soberly.

"It is the math. I need to redistribute my surplus. What is that saying? Use it or lose it?" Diego looks up at you from under raised brows, waiting for you to confirm or correct his language. 

That is fucking adorable. Your chest tightens with his easy familiarity with you and his trust that you have his back in all things, even something as small as a possible mistranslation. You nod in confirmation, but also need some clarification. "So, help me understand here, you have a surplus of what? Profit?" 

Diego nods succinctly. "Technically, it is a deficit of expenses. However, the expenses are paid out of the profits, so I simply hadn't moved the profit surplus into the expense account, which would have highlighted the cost deficit. I attempted to not draw any undue attention to it, but that failed. I must find somewhere to funnel the excess money that would not arouse suspicion."

It takes you a minute to process that whole thing. Diego watches you mentally work through it with amused patience. You now have more questions than answers. "Okay, wait. Rewind further back. Why do you have extra money? Are you not spending as much?"  What is happening? 

"It is two folds," Diego holds up a hand with one finger raised, you don't bother correcting him this time, "I am not consuming my own product, therefore selling more and netting more profits." He raises a second finger and continues, "I am spending substantially less on incidental costs. Not so many bottles or strippers or whatever. So saving more." 

He stares at his own raised fingers in bemusement before muttering thoughtfully, "Julio always led me to believe that women are expensive to keep but you have been saving me money. Hmm." He glances up at you with a small smile, tentative and cautious, so very not Diego-like. 

Your shrug is exaggerated, but your flush is not. "Glad I could help? I mean, its my fault this extra money is sitting around, so its my fault she noticed and then came here. I'm sorry, baby." Sometimes when you open your mouth everyone goes on a surprise trip, including you. It wasn't meant to turn self-deprecating, but here you are. You really do feel guilty. My presence has altered his lifestyle and its a problem.

The worry must be obvious on your features because Diego catches it immediately. He rushes to soothe you, "No, Princess. I chose to do these things, or rather to not. You have done nothing wrong. I would rather have you and this problem than to not have you and not this." His right hand comes up to cradle your cheek and direct your gaze down to him. Those beautiful brown eyes are molten, fierce with some emotion you don't want to analyze. It still fucks you up.

You swallow hard and lick your lips, "So what do we do?" Diego follows the path of your tongue with his thumb while his lips curl up in pleasure at your choice of wording. The way he looks at you sometimes, like he might try to move heaven and earth for you, it hurts. You can't decide if you like it or not.

"We must spend the money." He winks at you. "I will invest some and hide it in offshore accounts. If anything happens it will come to you." His air of finality is chilling.

Looking him over, you can feel tears welling up. "I don't want the money. I mean, don't get me wrong, I enjoy being spoiled, because duh. But if I have to make some ultimate choice between money or Murder Panther?" Your hands fling around with impassioned gesticulation. 

Diego chuckles, "What does," he imitates your sharp movements, "mean, Princess?" His eyes sparkle with the city lights twinkling in through the windows, but so far he is succeeding in suppressing his smile.

"It means, you know!" You flail your hands around faster, as if that will make your point. 

Diego does it back faster, so you interject with even faster movements, and Diego rebuts the same way until you grab his hands to stop him. The both of you dissolve into almost hysterical giggles.

He uses your joined hands to pull your forehead down to his. You can see a dizzying array of emotions swirling in his eyes, its breathtaking. His breathing hitches, brows draw down, and then his eyes close. 

"Baby." You sigh, cupping his cheeks gently, "What?" The question is soft, tentative. He doesn't release the hold on your wrists, but allows you enough space to pet him minutely. 

"When I have you here it blocks out everything else." Long fingers spasm on your forearms as Diego pauses to drag in a ragged breath, he continues, "I want to keep you here."

I don't know what to say. You're dumbfounded. "What? What does that mean?"  Your voice has shrunk down to a quavering whisper.

Diego opens his eyes to look up at you and they are deep enough for drowning. "You are coddling me and I like it. I want you here every day. Give me this whenever I want it." He whispers roughly. Diego studies your form as though committing your features to memory. "You should," that raspy voice hesitates and Diego grips your arms tighter, "You should quit your job and move in with me."  He stares up at you in complete sincerity. 

You're trying to keep it together. Diego is the one who had a bad day here. You're supposed to be helping him, not having your very own freak out. Think rationally about this. He isn’t here all the time, sometimes he's in LA. I'm not hot enough to be a trophy wife. What would I do all day? Just help him? Wouldn't that just be a different job? Oh my god, if I say yes to this… what if he asks me to go to LA? What if--

"PRINCESS!" Diego's bark cuts through your mental tornado and you blink back to awareness. He is still in your lap, cupping your jaw in one giant hand, while he watches you silently freak the fuck out. 

"I'm sorry," you gasp, "I didn't mean to just. Just. Zone out." Your breathing is shallow and you can feel your heart racing. 

Diego just watches you, unreadable. You glance down at him then look away. One of the coffee mugs is missing from the tree. Must be in the dishwasher.

"Hey." That rumble is soft and you cannot ignore it. Your eyes shoot down to his again, then away, and you shake your head 'no' minutely. Diego shifts to sit up (Via only abdominal muscles, your entire pelvis helpfully informs you) but keeps a hand on you. He sits back into the corner of the sectional and beckons to you. When you move toward him Diego spins you so your back is to his chest while you sit in his lap.

He wants to maintain contact but not overwhelm me by being in my face. I wonder if he’s been researching again.

Its enough to crack your heart open a little.

His long legs bracket your hips and you smile fondly, it reminds you of all the times spent in the jacuzzi tub. Diego rests his prickly chin on your left shoulder, wraps huge hands around your middle, and just sits there. Your hands pet over his thighs, his knees, then inward to cover the grip on your rounded stomach. 

"Logically," you clear your throat, "I know you don't mean it this way. But. I, well, I basically gave up my entire self once before and, as you know, it did not go well." Your voice is clear but soft as you continue, "You're not him. You are so very not him. But I still have… scars." Your hands are shaking noticeably so you stuff them under his. Diego laces his fingers with yours and steadies you.

"You never told me what he did to you. I want to know everything about you, Princess. Let us make a deal, huh?" Diego is always just a little bit greedy and you can only respect that as a fellow hedonist.

Tilting your head to the left, you lean your cheek against his nose, then answer warily, "I'm listening…"  You can feel Diego's smirk.

"I will tell you what happened when I was little and you will tell me what happened during that 'relationship'. An even exchange." He stares at you from a few centimeters away and you return the calculating look from the corner of your eye.

Your lips purse while you consider, then offer a caveat, "Only if I can write it out and not speak it." You turn to face him fully. He looks so… soft.

Diego licks his lips, "Deal. Now kiss." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You write out everything you can remember from your ex.

How no one was allowed to know you existed, you could have no title, that it wasn't a 'relationship' despite living together for eight years. 

You worked full time, you cooked, you cleaned, you kept a household budget even when it meant emptying your savings account to pay for his bankruptcy filing. 

The way you paid all the bills but your name was only listed on the lease, the three cases of beer you had to buy every week no matter how tight money was for groceries, you weren't permitted to hang anything on the walls so your ex could cover them with posters of girls half your size. 

You kept your hair dyed strawberry blonde because that was what he liked, because then he would touch you without sneering. The other girls you poached for him to sleep with instead of you. How you were supposed to be grateful that a man would even deem to fuck you at your size.

The wake up call when you argued back the first time after all those years. How he had backed you up to the top of the steep stairs in your second floor apartment and then loomed over you. The way you teetered on the precipice before diving under one of his arms and escaping to the bathroom, the only door with a lock.

How one day while he was at work you stuffed everything that would fit into your car and just left. The way you had to start over from scratch with no credit history or savings. The court proceedings for the restraining order, that you had to recount everything in front of your family, a judge, and the ex himself.

. . . . .

You don't realize how badly your hands are shaking until Diego takes the tablet from them. He sets it down on the neighboring cushion and locks the screen dark before turning back to you. Those huge arms wrap around your middle, on top of your own arms hugging yourself, and pull your back flush to his chest. You ponder his largeness; his thighs are as long as your arms, the stupefyingly huge hands and feet are an endless source of fascination, the biceps are your favorite pillow. You grin dumbly. 

"What?" Even at a whisper his voice vibrates deep in your chest. Its not especially deep, but its so rough, it almost reminds you of a cat tongue. Diego watches your face from an inch away.

Left shoulder raising in a lazy shrug, you sigh, "I love sleeping next to you. And I don't like sharing a bed with anyone." You blush a bit with the confession, but its true. "I feel safe with you even though realistically I know it should feel the opposite. You won't hurt me and you won't let anyone else either." Its a direct contrast to what you were just writing about and you say it with absolute conviction. 

"Of course not! But, but if I do, accidentally obviously, you will tell me?" Diego sounds simultaneously aghast and condescending but not at all offended by your acknowledgement of his potential danger. Amazing.

You turn to face him and lean your forehead against his. Diego sighs softly and squeezes you tighter. "I mean, I might write it, but yeah." 

He makes that adorable scrunchy-thinky face that you love before announcing, "I'll allow it."

Your eyes roll fondly as you sigh, "Oh good. So glad that meets your approval."  His sly smile is mesmerizing. 

"So. Are you gonna read that or…?" You glance down to the tablet then back up at him. "No, wait," you interject before his open mouth can start making noise, "Tell me yours first. Please." You turn solemn as you consider how bad this might be. Watching his face gives you a hint; his forehead smooths and his eyes shutter while soft lips turn down at the corners. Its his poker face, he is hiding from you.

Diego clears his throat quietly and looks away before he begins, "Our mother died when I was young, before I started school. My Lita said she committed suicide, apparently she was depressed after I was born. Alicia blamed me." 

You knew he had grown up without a mom, all of his delighted reactions to your own mother knowing and hearing about him had suddenly made a hell of a lot more sense when he told you. And you already knew that he was close with his grandmother, Lita, that she had looked out for him. And now much of Alicia's behavior made sense, too.

"My earliest memory of Alicia is at age twelve for her. By that point she had convinced our father that it was my fault. I was four the first time he hit me with a belt. The buckle, of course." Diego's jaw grinds, you can see his right eye twitch. You want to reach out to him but he probably won't tolerate it right now. He frequently misreads sympathy for pity. I'm starting to understand why.

"When I was eight she said to get in the car, I was allowed to go to the grocery store with her. The nearest was the next town to the east. Halfway there she pulled over and told me to get out, then she left. A neighbor driving home from the store saw me and took me to Lita. I do not know how long I was out there but I was very hungry." Here Diego pauses and swallows, "Lita said I ate a pound of beans." His wry smile is bitter. 

Brown eyes turn to you, his face is closed and guarded at first. You keep your mouth shut and just look at him. Slowly but surely, Diego's big body relaxes behind you, his eyebrows flatten and his lips soften. 

"When I was ten she pushed me through an open window. He beat me with the metal frame from the broken screen. At twelve I burnt one of the kitchen cabinets trying to make food before they got home. It was a rake that time. Thirteen was a microwave, I did not know about the thing with aluminum foil so it sparked and it was ruined. Also, I somehow got a video tape tangled in the VCR, I have no idea how. I begged my friend not to leave, father would not do anything until we were alone. It only made it worse." You can't take it anymore, your right hand comes up to his far shoulder and strokes up to cup his jaw. 

Diego turns toward you, rests his forehead into your neck, then proceeds to give you more. "I was sixteen when father staged the coup and killed his uncle to take over the cartel. He and Alicia sent me on 'errands'. I learned that these were suicide missions when I turned nineteen. Each time I came home fucked up but alive they were furious. Every time the cartel experienced a setback Alicia convinced everyone it was my fault, that I somehow ruined everything I was given." The seismic effect of his voice has shrunk in correlation to his volume. You can clearly tell that this is the time period when Alicia cemented into his mind that he was a total fuckup. 

Rough beard sears your skin as Diego raises his head to rub a cheek on you. You shudder and fist his shirt in your hand. With a deep sigh he goes on, "I was twenty-two when I made my first deal with a cousin. It took three years but we arranged for a rival outfit to give information to the DEA and they took our father away. Alicia decided this was her chance to take over everything but the men did not all take her seriously as a woman. Thus, she finally had a use for me and so here I am still."

You lean into him, rubbing back. Diego is the first and only person with whom you have actively wanted and enjoyed cuddling. He always smells good to you, even when he should probably shower you still like to bury your nose in his hair and breathe deep. Its gotta be pheromones. 

"She doesn’t know that you made that deal, does she?" You question cautiously, wary of upsetting him. He shakes his head 'no' and brushes fleeting kisses up your neck to your cheek. You take it one step farther, "So could you potentially take over everything by yourself?"

Diego pauses to meet your gaze, his head cocks to the side just the tiniest bit. "Do… do you want me to do that?" His voice is hesitant, cautious even. 

"No." You whisper softly. "I just want you safe. As safe as possible. And I know you'll be safer if she is out of your life." Your smaller hands cup his jaw through their own volition, thumbs stroking over the silver patches in his goatee. Plunging straight into the deep end, you offer an alternative, "Or, if that isn't a viable option, maybe you could quote-unquote 'retire'?" You study his beautiful face as his eyes unfocus while he digests your words. His brow furrows and he purses his lips in concentration. 

"That is worth some deliberation, Princess." Diego admits. Then, with a visible shake, he comes back to the topic at hand. "But now, it is your turn. Turn back, huh? I'll read this." Big hands move you around like a ragdoll and you melt a little inside, I wonder if he could just carry me like a baby all day.

You snuggle back into thick torso and sigh with pleasure. Yes, you're still anxious about this but you trust Diego more. Knees drawing up, you hide in your thighs, he only squeezes you tighter. You can hear him picking up the tablet and. And.

Breathe. Just breathe. My jeggings are soft, the couch is slightly fuzzy, his pants are silky, the blanket is plush. I'm here, with Diego, right now. Safe. You practice the grounding techniques that have worked in the past while he reads silently. His stillness is killing you slowly.

Finally, the tablet goes back to the cushion and the second hand comes back to you. Diego grips your stomach tightly before speaking, "Princess. You understand that you are beautiful, yes? I said I love you because I meant it. You. Just like this. Round and soft and thick. With your glasses and your big dark eyes and these curls in so many shades of brown and silver. Smart, sarcastic, funny, ballsy. You are shrewd and sneaky, that's sexy!" He chuckles a bit and you laugh raggedly, trying to hold back tears. 

"But," he continues in a milder tone, "I understand why you were unnerved earlier. I did not mean to absorb you, or, or erase you. I only want to take care of you. Spoil you how you deserve it. You understand?" That dark voice directly in your ear is incredibly distracting, and then the words register in your consciousness. 

"I, I mean I understand but I don't get it. You know?" Your voice is raspy, you're so tired deep in your soul. This is everything you never allowed yourself to dream of and you're not entirely sure that maybe you aren't in a coma somewhere hallucinating all of this. It certainly feels real, you snort to yourself as you pet over Diego's muscled arms. 

Nuzzling into your neck, he sighs deeply, "Oh, I do. You have no criminal record, you rescue tiny baby animals, I have seen you buy food for other people when their card declines, you sort recycling, woman." Here he laughs wryly and you join him. You see his point, you're both from very different backgrounds and from the outside probably don't seem like a good fit. But still…

"Most of my insecurities come from my size and the way that has influenced other people's demeanor toward me. You have never behaved like that, you always treated me just like all other women. It's both confusing and freeing. Like, at times I don't know how to behave but other times I just run with it." Your confession comes out evenly and sounds logical. Huh, maybe I'm finally getting over some of this.

Diego hums thoughtfully from where he is pressed into your cheek. "And you have always treated me like a person, not a bank or just a good time. Or a path to power." His voice is raspy and low, full of emotion. "As though my feelings mattered. Even that first night. You regarded me as an equal." You chuckle with the memory of forcing him to come to you in the club when you first met. His dimpled smile of delight still has the same effect on you. Recalling the morning after when he wasn't at all fazed upon seeing you while sober and well-lit fills you with warmth, too.

Diego goes on, oblivious to your musings, "I want to take care of you as a partner, not take you over. I want you just as you are, I wouldn't have taken you home, or texted you later, or invited you back if I didn't. I will share everything with you. I have kept you from the business for your own safety, but I, but if, if you want to see or learn, I know you would be an exceptional addition. It would change your life drastically and I did not want to make that decision for you; that would not end well."

You can hear the restrained hope in his words. His serious consideration of leaving the business for you is a revelation. He really and truly wants to share his life with you; to make a life together, not simply add you to his own as an accessory. He values your input and observations but doesn't want to put you in a precarious or dangerous situation. Being with him like this already does that. I'm already in this far, I'm IN LOVE WITH HIM.

"I want to think about it. I can't lie, of course I like the idea of being taken care of, not having to worry about things. But I still need to be my own individual, not a dependent, you know?" Its easier when you can't see him, you're less likely to shutdown and go nonverbal. Diego clearly understands this, and therefore you. Its new and novel and comforting and terrifying. 

With a kiss to your cheek he leans back a bit to whisper, "That is understandable and reasonable. I have been doing research, reading on normal relationships and not so normal women. I have never done any of this before.  But know this: Everything I have, everything I am, is yours, Princess. My wealth, my connections, my power, me, my heart, this dick, all yours."

You snort through tears, "That's like a fucking hallmark card, baby." It hurts underneath your ribs, Is this what love is supposed to feel like or am I doing it wrong? He's certainly doing it right. You giggle unevenly before amending, "Except for the dick. That is all Diego."

His laugh is deep and soft. "I have never bought a card in my life. Is that really what they're like?" He asks incredulously. Your enthusiastic nod only makes him laugh harder, the hoarseness of it giving way to wheezing. "That is horrible!"

"I know!" You crow and then collapse back into him in helpless guffaws. Diego wheezes into your hair, grabbing your hands and holding tight. 

"But," he pauses to giggle briefly, "But, can we try? Will you at least consider more for me? I wasn't sure when to tell you, but... we are going to split the territory and the duties. I am going to stay here, in New York, full time." Diego declares haltingly, his voice quavers with the fear of rejection. "You can come here whenever you wish and I'll be able to reach you in two hours on any day. I want to be as close to you as possible, close for you."

You turn around slowly, openly gawking at him. His big brown eyes are wet, he blinks furiously and licks his lips in apprehension. This dangerous, powerful, stunning man is afraid of your refusal.

 "You… I. I don't know what. That's. No one has ever…" you trail off and gesture vaguely. Your question is thick with shock, "You're rearranging your life for me?"

Diego shrugs half-heartedly. "You are my priority,  Princess. I don't want a life without you. Please tell me that is ok-kay." His voice hitches. For this man that is practically begging. 

You can feel your throat closing up, its all you can do to nod and throw yourself into his arms. That big body sags with relief as Diego crushes you to him. Burrowing into his neck, you choke out fiercely, "I love you, Diego Jimenez." 

His choppy sigh, the soft, "Te amo, Princess." It all shatters you apart. When the pieces come back together again its Diego who fits them into place, Diego who holds you together, Diego who tries to set you free to thrive on your own terms. 

This is like the most ridiculously lovesick puzzle in the universe. Fucking feelings.

[ubernoxa]

The Token: A Guns N’ Roses Fanfiction

Chapter 7: Cousin Kendal

Masterlist

Story Summary: Story inspired by the movie She’s the Man. A female Duff is tired of dealing with the bullshit of trying to make it on the strip as a female bassist. In a desperate attempt to make it big doing what she does, she cuts her hair and mascardes as Duff. What’s the wors that could happen?

Chapter Summary: Cousin Kendal comes to town causing several problems and hiccups in Michelle’s plan

Taglist: @viralwolf02 @littlemisscare-all @smokeandmirrorz @aratbaby @slashscowboyboots @achiweyow

“So what did you do last night? Have any fun?” Derek quizzed as I was wiping down the display cases in between rushes.

“Went out with Walter and Macy, and it was...interesting. Went to a couple bars that had okay music. Nothing I won’t forget in a couple weeks though. How about you?,” I shrugged back. The bar hopping part of the night might have been my idea to get away from a certain group of people.

I continued to listen to Derek as he talked about the girl he met last month and was still going out with. He kept going on and on about how cute and sweet she was, making my heart warm. Yeah I was quickly growing tired of his constant praise or borderline obsession over his girlfriend, but I was glad at least one of us had a healthy relationship, hell a relationship in general. The best word to describe my relationship status was nonexistent. I froze for a second as an unfamiliar figure stared back at me. I remained frozen staring at my own reflection. I hadn't noticed it at first, but Michelle the brunette bassist who worked at a coffee shop seemed to be slowly turning into a stranger. A mask I would put only only when needed.

“ I hope my father hasn't been working you too hard,” my heart stopped at the familiar voice that came from behind me.

“No Kendal, but just enough to keep me out of trouble,” I quickly turned around and sent the familiar face a smile, except she wasn’t as familiar as I had expected her to look. It wasn’t her hair, her clothing, or her makeup that was different, but something was. She quickly pulled me into a hug before letting go of me and placing her hand under my chin.

“Did you grow? You have to at least be part giraffe by how tall you’re getting!” She quizzed as I felt her look me up and down

“Giraffe? I’m not even 5’ 10”!” I teased back.

“Ohh there is my college girl,” I turned to see my uncle running out of the back office to give his daughter a large bear hug. It was nice to see them back together after the six months that had passed. I sent them both a warm smile before returning back to work.

“What major is she this week?” I had to hold in a snort at Derek’s comment. He had many options about Kendal, and a majority, arguable all, of them weren’t good.

“Hey now, do you know what you want to do for the rest of your life? It is both a scary and hard choice!” I whispered back. Kendal had tried marketing, accounting, journalism, typography, design, and now she was sitting in general business management.

He shrugged and joined me in washing the dishes.

“What would you do?” As he shot up from organizing the pastries, it was clear that my question had caught him off guard.

“What?”

“I said, what would you do if you had the money to go to school?” I repeated.

He shrugged before returning back to the pastries, after a couple of seconds I heard him reply, “I would go to culinary school. Once I got the degree I would head to New York and never look back,” I felt a sense of comfort flow through me as he talked.

“I have always heard that New York has the best dining. Unless it is deep dish pizza, that belongs to Chicago,” I smiled back earning a nod from him.

“Yeah I would become an apprentice or some shit like that and save up enough money until I could own my own local restaurant. It may take 10 or 15 years, but when I have it….ohh god when I get it I will name it after my dad and have his sausage stew as a permanent item I will do anything to get there. Hell, I got one more year before I can start affording to go to college part time. I have and will do whatever it takes,” he added.

“Let me know when you open because I will be the first in line. I will camp out a week before your open if that's what it takes!” I smiled back, his face quickly mimicking my own.

“Are you really going to have time to? You are going to be a world famous rockstar! That's still the dream right?” he asked back, his attention no longer on organizing the pastries.

“Yeah, and I think I might have actually found the right band too! We sound unique and the songs we play aren't the ones you would forget a week later.”

“I am glad that you are finally back on your feet after your last band...what was is Pyxie or some shit like that?”

“Yeah..forget those bitches! They didn't have what it takes!”

“And you do?”

“Yeah..I gotta” I smiled back at him. These were the moments that made me love my job. These were the moments I wish he didn’t have a girlfriend.

“You gotta what?” I immediately snapped up at Kendal’s question.

“She has gotta have what it takes to make it as a rockstar!” Derek bragged as if I was his kid who just won the spelling bee. Which would never happen because I couldn’t and still can’t spell for shit.

“She has to have what it takes,” Derek rolled his eyes when Kendal corrected his grammar. Kendal had many quirks and Derek could not tolerate any of them.

I watched Derek like a hawk as he tried to calm himself down. Luckily for all parties involved he was successful.

“Your band is called Pyxie right?” She quickly asked and immediately apologized when she saw my reaction.

“They were my old band, and they were more interested in sex than the music...so I left and found a new one,” I received a confused look from Derek as I spoke. Using the term left was putting my departure from PYXIE lightly, but that is the beauty of telling the story. I get to tell it my way.

“Ohh sorry to hear, but sounds like you made the smart educated decision by leaving the band. What is your new band called? Can I come see you perform soon?” She was radiating excitement as she spoke.

“We don’t have a name yet, but whenever we have our next gig I will invite you and send you pictures!” The lies easily rolled off of my tongue as I spoke

“Good to hear that you found another band!” I wish I could punch Izzy in the gut when he invited himself into the conversation. How had I not seen him walk in?

“Kendal, I’m Michelle’s cousin. Are you her bandmates?” Izzy tried to hide the smile that was growing on his face, but he failed.

“No, Axl by the way” I rolled my eyes as Kendal swooned over Axl, just like every other girl he encountered.

“If you are looking to see some music tonight, or band has a gig,” I immediately stared Izzy down as he spoke.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IZZY STRADLIN.

“Oh Shelley and I would love to go,” I never broke eye contact with Izzy as Kendal spoke. I watched as a smirk grew on his face when Kendal slipped and called me my nickname from when I was 10.

“Sorry I can’t go,” I didn’t even fake a saddened tone as I spoke.

“Are you working late?” Axl’s tone was smooth as he spoke

“No, band practice,” I shrugged before Kendal could make a comment offering to get me the night off which would only cause my lie to fall apart and everything spiral out of control.

“What band? You singing or playing guitar?” Axl seemed genuinely curious which threw me for a loop.

“Bass, and name coming soon,” I quickly replied.

“Would I know anyone in this band?” I shot Izzy another death glare as he quizzed me. I wanted to slap his smirk off of his stupid face.

“No….but like I said I won’t be able to make it,” I never broke eye contact with the black haired dick as I spoke. Why? Why was he digging? He knew I was Duff. By the look on his face I could tell he was enjoying this.

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

I started to apply my eyeliner when I heard him walk in.

“Thought you had band practice,” I heard him tease as he leaned against the wall right against the mirror I was using. I could barely focus on applying my eyeliner as he leaned against the wall smoking a cigarette. His purple blouse was unbuttoned all the way and tied at the bottom reminding me of the night that was a little over a month ago. Fuck he looked hot.

“Do you need help teasing your hair?” I raised a brow, but before I could say anything he grabbed a brush and began teasing it to the heavens. He was gently which was actually quite surprising.

“Take a picture, it will last longer,” I remained frozen while Izzy spoke as I stared in his reflection in the mirror. My mind raced around in a circle trying to figure out his game, but I couldn’t think of any reason.Was this some sort of apology?

I decided to close my eyes, and relax. We were going to perform soon, so overthinking would only make the nerves that I always get from performing worsen.

I froze as I felt a moan escape my lips. My eyes shot open and I watched Izzy continue as if nothing happened. I tried to calm my breath as he continued teasing my hair, but another moan soon escaped my lips and that is when I saw it. A smirk had grown on his lips as he repeated to tease the same spot earning another moan. This bastard was doing it on purpose.

“Ohh baby you’re so hot when you moan like that,” I then felt him kiss the crook of my neck.

“Her cousin called her Shelley,” the moment I heard Axl’s voice, Izzy went back to finishing my hair.

“You fuckers ready to kill it tonight?” Slash shouted earning a fuck yeah from the two of us.

“Duff, did you know that Michelle used to go by Shelley? Isn’t that cute? It reminds me of a stripper or dancer” Axl asked before grabbing a beer.

I shrugged looking back at him before replying, “Doesn’t really fit her. Doesn’t look like a Shelley.”

“Did you see how she reacted when her cousin said it? I’m definitely going to be calling her that from now on,” Axl’s laughter echoed backstage which was quickly joined by the rest of my band excluding me.

“Is she seeing anyone? If not, I am definitely going to find her after this gig,” Slash smiled before taking another sip of whatever the fuck he was drinking.

“Well she will be here after the show right?” Izzy turned to me as he spoke.

“No, Derek, the guy who works with her at the coffee shop asked her out on a date tonight, so neither of them will be at the show,” I shrugged back and excused myself to go get another beer.

It had taken 20 minutes of me begging and pleading with Derek for him to ask her out. I used the excuse that I hated the Indiana boys’ guts which took him a lot of convincing. Eventually he caved when I offered to cover a shift for him next weekend. He asked Kendall on a fake date, and that was the end of that problem. At least that is what I thought until I saw Derek and Kendal in the crowd.

I waited at the bar and in an instant I knew that I was fucked. Standing only a few feet away from me was Derek and Kendal. I watched as he came over and his eyes caught mine while a flash of recognition crossed his face. I motioned for him to follow me, and he quickly made some excuse to Kendal.

We stood alone in the ally as I watched him try to find his words. For the first couple of seconds we stood in silence.

“Okay, what the actual fuck is going on? Why are you dressed as a guy? Is this your new band? Last and certainly not least who the fuck is Duff,” I sighed as Derek growled at me.

“Long story short, I got sick and tired of dealing with the bull shit of trying to make it on the strip as a chick, so one day I dressed as a guy for an audition and...boom Duff was born. I am running out of options Derek. Whatever it takes. That’s what you said only a couple of hours ago. You said that you would do whatever is takes to Make your dream come true. Well that’s what I’m doing here,” Derek remained silent as I spoke.

The seconds that it took for him to respond felt like hours. “I guess that explains the wig situation, why you really wanted me to ask out your cousin, along with why you were being nice to Axl and Izzy. Two people who you despised a couple months ago,” He ran his hands through his hair as he spoke. I could tell he was trying not to freak out.

I watched as he shook his head in shock. “How long do you plan on keeping up on this charade? Does anyone else know? Do you have a plan?”

“Once I get my record deal,yes, and my plan is to not fuck this up. But before you continue to judge me, put yourself in my shoes. I’m on borrowed time Derek. Please get my cousin out of here because she can’t find out. She just can’t,” I said before leaving him to go join my band backstage.

“Whoa Duff you okay?” I tuned to Steven as his voice caught my attention.

“Yeah, just a bit nervous,” I shrugged back.

He poured a pair of shots and we took them together.

“Alright boys, let’s show them what the fuck rock and roll is,” Axl shouted before we went on stage.

It was the last song in our encore.

The last note where Axl was screaming to the heavens.

That’s when Kendal and I made eye contact.

That’s when I saw recognition cross her face.

I watched as the smile fell from her face and she immediately shoved her way through the crowd.

Fuck.

She knew.

[msjr0119]

Marshgate Prison

Part 2 - Rendezvous

NEW SERIES: At Marshgate Prison, New York City- Riley Brooks begins a new job as a Prison guard. The inmates and guards who work there have kept many secrets hiden. Will she become involved in these secrets? How will she react to the common riots that constantly take place in the rough prison.

Tags: @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @yukinagato2012 @dcbbw @qammh-blog @nz1091 @beardedoafdonutwagon @cordonianroyalty

*****

Liam was returning home, he didn’t see Riley when their shift had ended- it was as if she was some ghost, her presence was felt but not seen.

Going to the bar on route home, he would do anything to delay returning home. Opening the door, he rolled his eyes back as he saw his wife’s tongue down his brother’s throat.

“Liam!”

“Why are you acting shocked Leo? I live here! Where’s the twins whilst your both like that.” Looking disgusted towards them, he needed to somehow get out of this marriage- even if it meant breaking his children’s hearts.

“In bed! It’s ten o’clock. Have you heard from Connie?”

“No why?”

“Two inmates have been hospitalised, Walker and Brogan. He said if you have time to check up on them. Especially Walker. Apparently you have this odd relationship with him- our father said you’re like best friends or something.”

“Better than being the third wheel. Enjoy keeping my bed warm big brother.”

******

Drake... beat up.... hospital...

“Riley are you okay?” Maxwell asked concerned as he witnessed tears form in her eyes. Riley knew she had to maintain a normal expression- she was shocked, but she had known him days. The two people stood in front of her was his family.

“Yeah- I’ll leave you guys to it. Let me know how he is.”

“Come with us.” Savannah pleaded, knowing that Drake was stubborn and wouldn’t want them there- but after his confession in Barties letter, she knew his persona would change if Riley was present.

“I can’t... he will be with my colleagues...and I don’t know him that well.”

“You know him well enough to kiss him though...” Maxwell raised his eyebrow, knowing she couldn’t argue back. Rolling her eyes back, she knew Maxwell was going to be persistent as he always was, knowing she was going to be arguing the toss- she eventually agreed. But first she needed to borrow something that would hide her true identity.

*******

Riley snuck into the hospital wearing a disguise, knowing that her colleagues would be there. Savannah and Max had told Drake that Riley would visit and to go along with her fake identity. Walking into his room, she felt like her heart had stopped.

“Hey.” He quietly said.

“Hey, are you okay?” Putting on a stupid accent, she knew she sounded like a dick- Drake couldn’t prevent the smirk appearing on his face. Clearing his throat he responded to her eventually.

“Yeah I’m dandy- living the high life.”

“Drake!”

“Yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry.”

“Why would you get involved in a brawl?”

“The inmates, they were criticising one of the guards- the new guard. Saying disgusting things about her.” Clenching her jaw, her eyes widened. Me? Why me? I’ve done nothing wrong to anyone.

“They said they’d sexually harass her, that she’s ‘fit’ and is probably I quote ‘a good shag’... myself and another inmate calmly spoke to them and this is how we ended up. I’m sorry for jeopardising my release, but I couldn’t let them talk about yo- her like that.”

“Don’t worry about ‘her’ she would have been fine. No one would have allowed any of that to happen. Just look out for yourself in future Drake. I need to go.”

“I did it for you.”

“Yes and this is why you was falsely imprisoned Drake. For protecting other people. Please I’ll have a word and try to get you released as originally planned.”

“I’m sorry.” Holding his hand, she felt guilty leaving him- chained up to a guard. Kissing his other hand, she smiled before leaving.

****

Rushing out of the room, holding her tears back- she ran into Liam.

What the hell is he doing here? He could ask me the same.

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay Miss?” Riley nodded, knowing if she spoke she would be jeopardising her cover.

“Riley?” Fuck. Carrying on walking through the hospital she ignored his calls - hoping he think he was misunderstood.

Walking into Drakes room, he knew he had just seen Riley. Knowing his father wouldn’t ask the newest guard to check on the injured inmates, his heart sunk slightly due to the realisation that she was probably closer to Drake than people anticipated.

“I’m sorry, please don’t leave me again. Oh. Liam. What are you doing here?”

Liam discussed with the guards that Drake wasn’t a threat and that they should have a walk, grab some air. The guard removed his hand from the handcuff, Liam put his through- waiting for his colleagues to exit before turning to Drake. Knowing he was off duty could cause a scandal for him visiting an inmate- but his father knew that they had a close bond.

“Who was you apologising to? Asking to stay? I swear I saw Riley run out of here crying.” Drake remained silent, Liam now knew his suspicions were correct.

“Is there something going on between you two? If so I need to know.”

“Why? So you can ‘grass’ her up to your father?”

“No, Drake. So I can help you both. I’m no angel as you know. I know how frustrating it is. She’s really nice and beautiful, I’m not going to lie- I wish she kissed me back when I kissed her on the cheek.”

“You kissed her on the cheek?” Drake felt jealous, he didn’t know why? She wasn’t his. He’d known her a couple of days. She was a free woman.

“After her first shift, we went to a bar, I took her home. Kissed her on the cheek.”

“Bad enough that you’re fucking Olivia when you have a wife and kids at home. Beth deserves better. Then you try it with Riley?”

“Beth is sleeping with my brother. She only married me because she conceived our children after a fling.”

“So you’re both as bad as each other then?”

“Yes. I don’t condone relationships inside and I know I sound an hypocrite for saying that- but I can help the two of you. Get yourself back to Marshgate ASAP. Myself and Riley will help you get released as planned.”

*****

The morning after, there was a hand over meeting. Riley couldn’t stop thinking about Drake all night- barely able to keep her eyes open, she had hoped that she wouldn’t get mentioned. Too late Riley thought as Constantine was giving her immediate eye contact.

“As you may all be aware two inmates, were assaulted last night and are currently still in hospital. We have had to bring in extra guards for the mean time. You are all dismissed, except you Miss Brooks.” Shit.

Riley gulped as she remained in her chair, twiddling her thumbs she considered handing her notice in.

“I need you to stay with Liam at all times, until this mess is forgotten. Mr Walker and Mr Brogan were assaulted defending you.”

“D- Mr Walker was due to be released, will this affect it?”

“Unfortunately yes it could do. But we will discuss that with him when the time comes.”

*****

Riley met up with Liam, before she could react he pulled her into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” Placing his finger over her lips- he needed answers.

“Why did you ignore me at the hospital?” Raising his eyebrows, he knew she would deny any acknowledgement about being there.

“I don’t know what you are talking about?”

“Don’t lie to me. I know you and Drake are in a relationship.”

“Oh really? I didn’t know we were.” Technically her sarcasm was correct, a kiss didn’t mean they were in a relationship. Unlike Liam.

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you Riley.”

“A kiss is nothing.”

“A kiss from the most closed off person I’ve ever known. The person who barely speaks a word to anyone but myself.”

“Liam, it was nothing. Honestly. It was a spur of the moment thing.”

“When he spoke about you, his eyes lit up even with the excruciating pain he was in. Don’t let your job and his status affect your feelings.”

“What about your feelings with the Queen bitch?”

“I’m married, it was for the children’s sake. She’s sleeping with my brother. Olivia is easy.”

“You’re married?” Riley didn’t expect that type of confession. Liam was handsome but she never expected him to be a cheat- he seemed like the type to flirt secretly.

“Yes, she’s called Beth. I barely see her.”

“Are all Beth’s sluts? No offence...” Laughing to herself thinking about the Beth she knew, she looked at Liam who didn’t look impressed with her comment.

“I don’t know? Why?”

“Oh I went to school with a Beth. She was my best friends little sister. She tried to act like me and Lola but failed miserably.”

“Lola? As in Lola and Beth Hughes?”

“Yes why? Ohhh..... shit. You married Beth Hughes. I didn’t mean what I said... I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

“Heh you’re speaking the truth, why couldn’t you have come here before I slept with her and warned me? You’d have saved me from all this. We can help each other you know. Allow each other to release our frustration. Are you with me?”

****

The following morning, Drake returned to Marshgate, looking over his shoulder constantly in case he saw the bastards that did this to him. Attempting to sleep or get the slightest bit comfy was proving to be a difficult task. Liam knocked on the door, insisting that he followed him for an urgent matter.

Drake sighed, assuming he was being escorted to the wardens office to be berated regarding his actions. Slowly sitting up, he pushed himself off the bed and followed Liam.

Arriving at the empty cell at the other end of the wing, Drake assumed it was for his own safety- in a way he felt grateful for his close friendship with the guard. Feeling guilty, Liam pushed Drake into the cell before locking him in it standing guard outside.

“Liam what the fuck?” Banging on the door, he was slowly yet gradually getting frustrated at Liam’s ignorance- until feeling someone’s presence behind him. Playfully covering his eyes, he knew who it was and the pain had seemed to disappear in an instance.

“Care to explain what’s happening Miss Brooks?” Turning around Drake gulped, as he saw Riley in just her shirt- her legs bare, her natural curls hanging loose.

“Liam came up with a plan. A plan that will help all of us. He will stand guard whilst we spend time together and I’ll return the favour for him and Liv. You better make it worth my while, because I’m risking getting sacked for misconduct.”

Dragging him over to the cold bed, she helped him sit down- before straddling him, asking if she was hurting him.

Pulling his head towards hers, she kissed him passionately. Slowly feeling his erection she wanted him there and then. Most people may think she was crazy, unprofessional. But he was like a magnet- the last few days he just kept pulling her in.

“You’re going to have to leave Riley. I don’t want you getting caught. Besides I want to do more than kiss you.”

“I’m not going anywhere. We’ve got five minutes.”

Standing up, she released his manhood out of his boxers- the touch of her hand made him regret not fighting his innocence. Trying to remove her hand, she shook her head.

“Let me see to you, as a thank you for defending me.”

Kneeling towards the floor, she bit her lip-before inserting his cock in her mouth.

“You’re amazing.” Drake panted, Riley looked up at him fluttering her eyelashes. Feeling his cock pulsating at every move- knowing she was pleasing him, she increased her pace.

“Riley I’m going to cum. I haven’t had any sexual contact in years.” Removing her mouth once he had finished, she swallowed- before he helped her stand up. Holding her close to him, she heard his heartbeat still pounding.

“Don’t you masturbate? Also isn’t that the point - to cum?” Winking at him, her true colours were coming out. She wasn’t little miss innocent that she was perceived to be.

“I had no one to masturbate over. But now...”

“Now?” She questioned. Cupping her cheeks, he couldn’t believe that she was risking her job- but she was too damn irresistible. The only person that hadn’t looked her nose down at him- the person that listened to him.

“You’re going to be stuck in my head, on a loop.”

“Ditto. So when I’m at home, I’ll be thinking about you.”

“You’re teasing me Riley. Do you know how hard this is? I want you so bad.”

“Are you in pain?”

“A bit why? But having you here is taking it away.” Slowly and seductively, she unbuttoned each button whilst biting her lip.

“So, what do you think?” Standing in her underwear in front of him, he gulped hard. The matching underwear made him feel turned on. Walking towards her, he pulled her close to him. Feeling her breasts, he kissed her neck. He didn’t want to let her go.

“You are gorgeous.”

“Am I gorgeous enough to sleep with?”

“Yes... any man who’s had you is lucky.”

“So why are you still staring? It’s getting a bit hot in here don’t you think? I think you’re overdressed Walker.”

Drake removed his shirt in an instant before forcing his lips onto hers kissing like crazy, he hadn’t kissed anyone for years- this interaction sent shock through his veins. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, both battling against each other. Rileys fingers ran through his wavy locks- knowing this was wrong on so many levels- the heat of the moment had turned her brain into mush. If Liam and Olivia had got away with it all these years- surely they wouldn’t get caught. Drake pushed her gently backwards laying her on her back on the bed, debating if he could survive the pain or not. Hovering over her, he began to gently kiss every inch of her body- feeling the slightest bit of stubble rub against her skin she didn’t care- this secret rendezvous was intoxicating.

Feeling his warm embrace, she traced her fingers over his muscled abs- he moaned at this slight touch. A touch he hadn’t felt in years. This moment in time was as if he had unexpectedly won the lottery.

“What do you want beautiful?”

“I want you. That’s all I want.”

Drake slid his hand between her legs- positioning his fingers and thumb at her entrance. The slightest touch, made her damp in an instant. Kissing her neck, whilst working his thumb over her clit in a tantalising rhythm, she needed to contain her moans- hoping Liam wasn’t ‘earwigging’. Losing herself in the pleasure, she hoped that he would be released sooner rather than later. All her muscles began to quiver. Feeling breathless already, Drake removed his fingers, replacing them with his tongue- proving a difficult task to stay quiet- she placed her hand over her mouth.

“You taste so good.” He whispered before plunging his tongue deeper inside. Riley needed to scream, instead she dug her nails in his side as his tongue worked its magic on her. Removing his mouth from her, sitting up -he smiled at her expression, her whole body trembled whilst his ached. But he wasn’t wasting this opportunity.

Before she could recover, he slipped inside of her. Holding that position, their eyes fixated on each other. Slowly Drake began to thrust, taking his time wanting to enjoy making love with her. “You feel so good, Riley. I’m one lucky bastard.” He growled before the thrusts became faster and more passionate, hitting her in that specific spot. “Don’t you dare stop Drake!” “I will be soon.” His thrusts were powerful as their bodies rocked in sync perfectly together. Drake’s movements slowed down, as he released himself inside her. She felt his warm seed spill into her. Both laying next to each other, they needed to catch their breath, needing to both exit the cell not looking all flustered.

“Wow! You’re amazing... I must thank Liam.” Drake said, as he fixated his gaze onto her eyes. His hands ran through her hair, he couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful she was.

“No need, I think it was from a purely selfish point of view. I need you to know that I’m now invested in you.” Passionately kissing her again, he couldn’t believe this had happened, was it just fantasy.

“When will I see you again?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

“Riley, thank you.”

“That was just a tester of what’s to come when you get released.” Feeling hopeful, he had hoped that he would get released on time, and that his actions hadn’t increased his sentencing time.

******

Riley and Liam escorted Drake back to his cell discreetly, Liam laughing at the two of them attempting to act normal. Thanking the Lord that there was a commotion in the dining area that had gained all the attention of the other inmates, there would be no suspicion regarding the trios whereabouts.

A guard came running upto Liam, asking for help. The two of them ran over, Drake watching concerned.

“Tell me what’s going off.” Liam demanded to know the facts before he went barging into the battlefield.

“The mayors daughter and son in law have arrived, they’ve been sentenced for tax evasion. He arrived with a cocky attitude which didn’t impress the other inmates.”

“What’s his name?”

“Vancouver.”

*****

The guards escorted the mayors daughter to her cell, she was putting up a fight- screaming her innocence. Insisting for them to take their ‘grubby’ hands off her and that her father would bail her out.

The guards on the women’s wing had enough shit from her and forced her to socialise with her fellow inmates she would be with for the next twelve months.

Sitting on the table with a resting bitch face, she was scowling at everyone- looking down at them. Rubbing the dust of the table, she was used to luxury- believing she didn’t belong here. It was a shithole and a ‘princess’ like her didn’t belong here.

“What are you looking at?” Olivia snapped and scowled at her old school friend, Maddy bullied her at school using her father’s status as an excuse to get out of the bullying.

“Get away from me!”

“Daddy isn’t bailing you out this time Maddy!”

[hunnywrites]

Arcade Dreams: Chapter One

Summary: There’s a new girl working at the Palace Arcade and Hawkins’ Family Video. Billy can’t stand her, and the feeling is mutual. No matter what everyone else seems to think.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove/OFC

A/N: When being introduced to the Midnight overlaps with the third season of Stranger Things being released, you write a Billy Hargrove fic. He’s trying his best to become a soft boy, but instead you all get this mess of a slow burn fic. 

Christmas break was surprisingly more lively in Hawkins than Teddi had anticipated. The Hawkins Family Video store and the Palace Arcade were always pretty popular during weekends, sure, but in the few days since school had let out she had found herself bouncing back and forth between the two shops because she and Keith were seriously understaffed. She didn’t mind it. Everyone in town was surprisingly nice, and a lot of the kids that stopped into the arcade were pretty entertaining. There was one group she had taken a liking to. Max Mayfield and her gang always managed to make a shift more exciting, and she loved helping them give Keith grief. 

She had popped into the arcade about twenty minutes ago and found them spread out among the games. Max seemed to be missing, but there was a new girl that had tagged along the last few nights. Apparently Chief Hopper had a daughter she hadn’t known about. Not that that surprised her. As of that week she had only been in Hawkins for two months. Her family had moved there from upstate New York after her dad had been laid off. Now they lived in a really crappy place that seemed like it was in the middle of nowhere even for Indiana. It was why she had taken the video store/arcade job to begin with. There was no way her parents would be able to pay for college now. So now she was desperate for as many shifts as she could get from Keith on top of looking for a second job. 

Since the arcade seemed to be relatively peaceful for a Friday night, she was focused on the video store now. Keith was forcing her to play that god awful animated Rudolph movie on repeat to get customers into the Christmas spirit. If she had to listen to that elf talk about how he wanted to be a dentist one more time, she might actually lose it. She was bouncing back and forth between the register, restocking and organizing shelves and rewinding tapes people had returned. She was so busy that she had managed to drown out those awful claymation characters and the sound of a roaring engine outside. She threw a “Welcome to Hawkins’ Video!” over her shoulder when she heard the bell on the door jingle as it opened. 

She was tidying up the holiday display when someone’s shadow loomed over her. “You work here?” a gruff voice asked. Teddi looked up, eyebrows together in confusion as she tried to imagine what this guy could possibly be so huffy about. 

“Sure do,” she said as she stood. She was immediately met with the smell of cologne, cigarette smoke and spearmint. “What can I help you with?” 

Teddi vaguely recognized him after a few moments. They went to the same school. She didn’t entirely remember his name, but she knew he was kind of a dick. Very, very cute, but kind of a dick. “I’m stuck watching my lame ass step-sister while she’s grounded. Her mom told me to rent some videos to keep her occupied over the weekend.” he said rolling his eyes. 

“Oh! Well, that’s actually pretty sweet of you. I mean I’m an only child so my mom always just threw me in front of a TV while I was growing up…” she trailed off. It was obvious he didn’t care. Teddi cleared her throat. “Sorry. Um, so what’s she into?”

He raised an eyebrow, looking at Teddi like she had grown a second head. “How the fuck should I know?” 

“Isn’t she your sister?”

“Step sister.” he corrected shortly.

“Right…” Teddi pursed her lips while she thought of a suggestion. Cute but dickly blonde boy shifted impatiently. “Chick flick?” she asked. He made a face. 

“Jesus, no. She’s not into all that girly shit.” he paused for a moment. “I don’t know, she was Michael Myers for Halloween. You got anything like that?”

Teddi perked up. “Oh, totally! Here, follow me,” she waved at him and took off towards the horror section. She glanced over her shoulder quickly at him. “...You go to Hawkin’s High, right? You’re on the basketball team? I’m Teddi. I just moved here so you’ve probably haven’t seen me or anything…” she was rambling again. She always did that when things were quiet. She hated quiet. 

“You’re the weird girl that argued with the science teacher for like half an hour over crystals.” he said bluntly. Teddi let out a nervous laugh. She had to admit, it was a little embarrassing to remembered by cute but dickly for arguing that crystals did in fact have healing abilities, and no it did not have anything to do with the movie The Dark Crystal. 

“Yep...yep. That was me…” she was fairly certain she heard him let out a faint chuckle. “So uh, keeping in tone with the whole holiday horror she might like this one,” she plucked a copy of Black Christmas off the shelf and handed it to him. He gave it a quick look over and gave an approving nod. “And these are just some really good ones. You can’t pass them up.” she handed him Sleepaway Camp, Alien and Carrie. She hoped it would be broad enough range to keep his sister occupied and happy. 

He scanned each VHS quickly. “Right...thanks. Hopefully this’ll keep the little shit happy.” he muttered. 

“It’s no problem. If she likes them there’s plenty more where those came from.” she said leading him back to the front counter. While she was checking each of the movies out she was completely oblivious to the fact that cute but dickly was now aware that his focus was no longer on renting movies and that Teddi was a girl. A cute, but weird, girl that he had yet to put the moves on. 

“...I’m Billy, by the way. I forgot to introduce myself earlier.” he grinned, leaning against the counter and turning on a sudden charm he definitely hadn’t had when he first walked in. Teddi had bleached blonde hair that was cut into a bob that just barely reached her shoulders. Her lashes were so long and thick that he couldn’t tell whether they were real or fake. Freckles speckled her nose and she had a metal hoop in her right nostril. She was also wearing glittery lip gloss that managed to sparkle even under the fluorescent lighting of the video store. He barely got to get a good look of her “Hawkins’ Family Video” shirt that was about two sizes too small and black cut off shorts before he was caught. 

“Oh, it’s fine we were bus-...what are you doing?” she raised an eyebrow at him. 

Billy stood up straight, his grin fading. “...What do you mean?”

“You were just looking at me like I’m like a cheeseburger or something,” she snorted. Billy looked at her like she had grown another head yet again. “Does that actually work?” she asked, her nose scrunching just a little. 

Billy clenched his jaw, resting both of his hands on the counter. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he spat. It only made him more annoyed when Teddi let out a giggle. If it was one thing he hated, it was being laughed at. 

“Nothing. Forget it,” she slid the tapes towards him. “Ten bucks. They’re due back Monday.” she said with an amused smile. Billy only muttered, reaching into his back pocket and digging his wallet out. He tossed a ten down on the counter and snatched up the tapes. “Enjoy the movies!” she said sweetly. 

Billy rolled his eyes and nearly stomped back out to his car. He hated Hawkins. He hated how cold it was. He hated how festive everyone got around Christmas. He hated that he was stuck at home with Max all weekend, and he hated that Teddi had embarrassed him. Fuck Hawkins, he thought as he slid into his Camaro. 

“Took you long enough,” Max muttered, crossing her arms. Billy ignored her and tossed the tapes into her lap before throwing the car into reverse. Max silently studied each of the movies. “These look pretty good...you picked these out?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Billy fished his cigarettes from his jacket pocket and placed one between his lips. “The girl that worked there picked them out,” he mumbled before lighting it. “I told her you liked Halloween.” for some reason that excited Max. 

“Teddi?” she asked, turning to face her step-brother. 

Billy cast a sideways glance at her. “Yeah...you know her?”

“She works at the arcade too. She’s really cool.” Billy scoffed. What did Max know about cool? He supposed to a geek like Max and her friends that maybe Teddi seemed cool. He sure didn’t see it. 

“She’s weird.” he argued curtly. 

Max gave him a knowing look and smiled. “You asked her out didn’t you? She said no didn’t she?” she asked excitedly. Billy gripped the steering wheel tightly. 

He bit back his initial response. “She’s not my type.” he said simply. 

It was Max’s turn to scoff. “You don’t have a type. Girl is your type. She’s too smart for you anyways-”

“Max, do you ever shut the fuck up? It’s bad enough I have to spend the weekend with you. Do you really think I give a shit about what you have to say about some freak that works at the video store?” Max only rolled her eyes. Ever since the night Billy had come to find her at the Byers’ house things with Billy had been slightly better, but not great. Her step-brother was stubborn. And while she was sure she had put the fear of God in him that night, Max was sure there was nothing that would be able to match his attitude. 

Billy leaned forward and flipped the radio on to signal he was done with the conversation. He drummed his fingers against the wheel in sync with the beat and pretended Max was no longer there. But still, the fact that he had actually tried to find movies she’d like instead of grabbing whatever was closest let her know he didn’t completely hate her. If anything he was crabby because his ego was bruised from whatever happened between him and Teddi.

Max was positive Billy had tried to ask her out. Lucas and the guys all had a crush on her. She was into all the same stuff they were, and she was nicer than Steve. Max had found herself wishing a few times that Teddi could be her step-sister rather than having to stick around Billy. Or at the very least she wished that Billy wasn’t such a jerk and that Teddi would want to date him. Maybe make him chill out some. 

Max’s mom and Neil weren’t home when they pulled into the driveway. Usually on the weekends they went out and she and Billy wouldn’t see them much if they were home. Which wasn’t often. Both Billy and Max liked to avoid being home as often as possible. Max followed Billy inside and kicked off her snow-covered boots, hanging up her coat and rushing over to the TV. Billy tossed his leather jacket onto the back of the couch and headed for the kitchen. Max heard the pop of a beer can being opened. 

She decided to watch Black Christmas first. She popped the tape in, settling own on the floor to watch. She barely even noticed Billy standing awkwardly in the doorway. “...You want popcorn or something?” he finally asked. Max tried to mask her surprise, instead smiling and nodding. He disappeared into the kitchen once more, making sure to slam cabinet doors and the microwave as if he were being forced to cook up popcorn. 

Billy returned a few moments later, plopping down on the couch and setting the bowl on the table in front of him. Max moved from her place on the floor to the couch as he kicked off his boots and leaned back into the couch. He rolled his eyes as she gave him a happy smile, grabbing the popcorn bowl and settling into the couch herself. While he still wished he was out with some girl he could pick up at work, Billy supposed this wasn’t the worst way to spend the weekend. 

[thecomicsnexus]

NEW TEEN TITANS #26-27 DECEMBER 1982 - JANUARY 1983 BY MARV WOLFMAN, GEORGE PEREZ, ROMEO TANGHAL AND ADRIENNE ROY

SYNOPSIS (FROM DC DATABASE)

The New Teen Titans return to Earth from the Vega system, and Robin, having revealed his true feelings during the battle, begins a romantic relationship with Starfire. Several weeks pass uneventfully. Then, Dick and Kory, on a movie date, witness the accidental death of a drug-crazed youth who attacks D.A. Adrian Chase and his wife before running into the path of a car. The next day, at the site of the Statue of Liberty, Changeling battles a young costumed girl, who calls herself Terra.

Raven heals the wounded youth at the cost of almost being taken over by the spirit of her demonic father, Trigon. The boy proves to be the older brother of the teenager whose death Dick and Kory had witnessed (in the previous issue). He had come to New York to investigate his brother's death only to be set upon and nearly killed by gangsters employed by drug czar Anthony Scarapelli. Returning to the youth center, the Titans meet with Adrian Chase and Roy Harper, the latter working as a liaison between federal and local authorities in drug-related cases. Leaving with the Titans, Roy resumes his identity as Speedy, and together the young heroes break up Scarapelli's plans to have his new drug shipment distributed throughout the city by duped teenage runaways. Two of the youngsters, however, are killed in the melee, despite the Titans' efforts.

REVIEW

New Teen Titans was DC’s most important book, more important than Batman (in sales). It’s hard to think about it after seeing DC trash these characters for the last 19 years. But in 1982... boy, that was a great comic to wait for.

Of course I was barely alive in 1982, (but alive indeed), I didn’t get to know the Titans until the nineties, and even then, I didn’t have access to their comics. It wasn’t until I got access to comic shops that I was able to find them. But I am more familiar with the next volume. This volume was hard to find and I could only get my hands on trade paperbacks. Of course these days all these books are collected. So you should know, this is a good read.

I wasn’t expecting anything at all from this two-parter. They just came back from space, and instead, I get this very deep, ruthless, modern-agey story about runaway kids. And let me tell you something... it’s dark.

But you know what isn’t dark? The titans. This is something to have in mind, you don’t need your characters to be grim and gritty to be able to tell a very dark story. Ok, one of them is at risk of being possessed by a demon from another dimension... but that’s pretty much it.

Roy Harper is also back for this story, as it involves a drug dealer (who uses kids to do the dealing). This story feels just too real. And of course, it doesn’t have a happy ending, everyone is miserable in the end.

There is an actual interview to Marv Wolfman where they discuss this story (that motivated the government to ask DC to do those drug awareness stories):

MacDONALD: How about in the Runaways story? Was that both of you?

WOLFMAN: I tend to work, for the most part, with a fairly complete plot. You can always tell when George and I come up with a plot together, because the credit reads co-plotters. And there will be a separate credit that say co-creators. George gets the plots and does what he wants with them, takes away scenes, adds scenes. He never changes the story, but he will pace it his way, change the fight scenes around and whatever else and add what he wants. With the “Runaways” story he completely followed the plot. I don’t think there was a single change. He tells me that I caught without knowing it a relative of his very closely, and it made him care about the story even more. It’s the first issue of the Titans that he did full pencils, he used to do layouts on the book. And he liked the character Louis, it was very close to one of his relatives and very similar in a lot of the set-up, and I was just taking it from my own talks with runaways.

MacDONALD: I detected either restraint or constraint in that story. Did you have any Code problems with that?

WOLFMAN: No. no. We were prepared to go without the Code symbol. We submitted into the Code as we always do, and assumed that they would reject, but they didn’t. The only correction they made was we misspelled a word that they spotted. I was very much surprised. Our idea was not to hit the readers over the head with the message. I don’t like those type of stories. I just wanted it to be there, where you judge for yourself and make your own decisions. The only concept that I wanted to get through was letting people know about runaway shelters. Otherwise it was a fairly straight story.

MacDONALD: Did you do a lot of research on runaways?

WOLFMAN: Yeah. Len [Wein] and I went to a runaway shelter here [in Manhattan]. They just loaded us down with material. And took the story from that point.

MacDONALD: You did it again, the bad parents and the kids.

WOLFMAN: You know, that is a problem because it is a problem with runaways.

MacDONALD: Yeah, even though it worked in that story…

WOLFMAN: I couldn’t avoid it there. We did try to have with Luis, good parents and a bad kid. So the parents were really loving and caring, but the kid wanted freedoms that the parents in all honesty knew he wasn’t ready for, as proven in the story. The parents were good there. One of the biggest problems we discovered with runaways is not kids running away, but kids being thrown out. So in the case of the girl who was pregnant, for instance, she was actually tossed out. So a throwaway is as much of a problem as a runaway. And we could not avoid the main concept, that most kids are running away because the situation at home is bad. They are not running away for fun. it's not taking to the rails like the bums.

MacDONALD: Maybe to avoid having two bad parents, Lizzie’s mom wasn’t around.

WOLFMAN: No, she wasn’t.

MacDONALD: Was there any reason for that?

WOLFMAN: Yeah, I wanted the father to be raising the girl by himself. Because fathers would have more of a problem understanding the problems of a girl if there wasn’t a mother to temper…

MacDONALD: Well, the father could kick her out and the mother could give her cookies. Teenagers do have conflicts with their parents.

WOLFMAN: Yeah, that’s why it had to be one of the themes. We overdid it in the early issues I think. But we couldn’t avoid it in “Runaways.” I wouldn’t have even dreamed of avoiding that subject.

MacDONALD: It just seems that when you are writing about teenagers, there is too much of it.

WOLFMAN: As I said, it was a problem and I recognized it about issue #20 and decided I wouldn’t do it again. I don’t think the runaways issue did it again, I think that was a separate type of storyline, and we haven’t done it within the main thrust of the story. But that was the special case.

MacDONALD: Let’s talk a little about that. Terra…

WOLFMAN: Terra becomes a member with issue #30. Strangely enough, Mike Barr and I came in with identical characters, the same day. Mike is doing a book called The Outsiders and I wanted a new character for the Titans, and he came up with a guy who had earth powers [Geo Force], and I came up with Terra who has earth powers. And we both came in the same day so we couldn’t say who was first, and I came up with the idea of making them brother and sister. So Mike and I have cooperated to make these characters work between the two books. And Terra will be a regular character, for how long I will not say, because that ties in with some of the things we have in mind.

Where we are moving is that Wonder Girl will be getting married, and, shock of shocks, she will not be leaving the Teen Titans, and it will not affect her work in the Teen Titans. She’s marrying somebody outside the team, who’s not a super-hero.

MacDONALD: You always have a lot of plotlines, there’s Thia…

WOLFMAN: There’s a guy up in space…

MacDONALD: Yeah, what’s going to happen to the guy in space? (The Monitor).

WOLFMAN: What happened there.. that was a mistake in that everybody else didn’t pick up on it fast enough. I was creating a character for all DC to use, and I told everybody what it was, but they didn’t pass it on down to their writers. So I have to reintroduce him. I want a character who’s available, who’s called the Monitor, who keeps track of everybody and he sells information. And any writer could use it.

MacDONALD: You mean like The Watcher as a blackmailer?

WOLFMAN: Yeah. I had the character about 18 years ago. I called him the Librarian then because I didn’t have a good sense about names and thought that it would be a neat idea to do that. You know, one villain that the whole company could use. I didn’t have to sell it to Marvel, because they already had one universe, but when I came back to DC I indicated that I wanted to do it here. Everyone liked it but forgot to hand out the sheets I gave for their writers. So I have to redo it indicating how far you can take the character from month A to month B. Like for three months you can only show this much and after six months you can show that much, and at the end of a year we can reveal who that character is and start getting into interesting stories that all the writers can pick up on.

MacDONALD: So he’s going to be all around?

WOLFMAN: Oh yeah.

MacDONALD: He’s not specifically Titans?

WOLFMAN: On no.

Interesting ah?

In any case, I give this story a score of 10

[lastsonlost]

Aziz? redemption ?

AZIZ DIDN’T FUCKING DO ANY GOD DAMN THING WRONG!!!!!!

God, I love being white,” said Louis C.K.

“Here’s how great it is to be white,” the comedian went on: “I could get in a time machine, and go to any time, and it would be fucking awesome when I get there. That is exclusively a white privilege.”

The bit, part of his 2008 special Chewed Up, was emblematic of C.K.’s approach: poking fun at the inequalities of American society, while simultaneously acknowledging the ways they benefited him.

Contrast that with a set he performed in December 2018, a little over a year after he admitted to masturbating in front of women without their consent. During the December appearance, apparently at a comedy club on Long Island, C.K. joked that Asian men are “all women” and poked fun at school shooting survivors and gender-nonconforming teenagers, according to BuzzFeed News.

“They tell you what to call them,” he complained of teens who use the pronouns they/them. “Oh, OK. You should address me as ‘there’ because I identify as a location. And the location is your mother’s cunt.”

Imagine thinking the best way to resurrect your career after admitting to sexual misconduct is to mock trans people and Parkland gun violence survivors.

2018, during which his standup special and the wide release of his film I Love You, Daddy were canceled, seems to have wrought a change in C.K. Where once his comedy offered a fresh look at established power structures, he now seems set on ranting about kids today and their pronoun choices.

Fellow comedian Aziz Ansari has followed a similar trajectory. He once decried sexual harassment in his act — and addressed the issue in a nuanced way on his show Master of None. But in 2017, a woman told the website Babe.net that he had pressured her for sex — Ansari said he had believed everything that happened between them was “completely consensual,” and that he was “surprised and concerned” by her account. 

After the incident, his comedy took on a different tone: In a fall 2018 appearance, he made fun of online debates about cultural appropriation and complained that nowadays, “everyone weighs in on everything,” according to the New Yorker.

The bigotry in C.K.’s set is disturbing, especially coming from someone who seemed at one time to have a relatively clear understanding of how power works in America. But what is also striking about C.K. and Ansari’s post-#MeToo material is its banality. Before they were publicly accused, these men wrestled with thorny questions of identity and power in ways that, while not always satisfying, were usually thought-provoking. After the allegations, they began parroting tired complaints about political correctness.

Of the many people accused of sexual misconduct as part of the #MeToo movement, C.K. and Ansari seemed like they might be uniquely equipped to reckon with the allegations against them, perhaps even adding something to the public conversation around #MeToo. Instead, they have retreated into boring and offensive stereotypes, perhaps playing to those who never thought they did anything wrong.

We’re all worse off for their decision, missing out on the art C.K. and Ansari might have created if they’d been willing to really face their accusations, and robbed of the opportunity to see two intelligent and thoughtful men really wrestle with the implications of #MeToo. In a time when more and more of the accused mull their comebacks, it’s natural to wonder what real redemption — complete with an acknowledgment of harm and a commitment to atonement — might look like. Apparently, Louis C.K. and Aziz Ansari will not be the ones to show us.

Louis C.K. used to talk about violence against women. Now he makes fun of genderqueer teens.

Before #MeToo, Louis C.K. was beloved by many for his often self-lacerating comedy. In his standup and on the autobiographical FX show Louie, he portrayed himself as a sad-sack weirdo disturbed by his own sexual urges — he once called himself a “prisoner” of “sexual perversion.”

C.K.’s work could be offensive, as when he complained that he missed being able to use a homophobic slur (and claimed, unconvincingly, that the way he used it had nothing to do with homophobia). But some hailed his comedy as feminist, and he showed a remarkable ability to mine humor from the dangers and biases women face — a difficult feat for a male comic.

“How do women still go out with guys when you consider that there is no greater threat to women than men?” he asked in a 2013 special. “We’re the number one threat to women! Globally and historically, we’re the number one cause of injury and mayhem to women.”

But C.K. was also the subject of long-simmering sexual misconduct rumors — and in November 2017, four women told the New York Times that he had masturbated in front of them or asked them to watch him masturbate (a fifth said that he masturbated while on a phone call with her).

In a move that remains unusual among men accused as part of #MeToo, C.K. admitted to the allegations against him. “These stories are true,” he said in a statement to the New York Times.

“I have spent my long and lucky career talking and saying anything I want,” he added. “I will now step back and take a long time to listen.”

But as many have pointed out, the listening didn’t last very long. C.K. was back onstage in September 2018, less than a year after his pledge to step back. In an October appearance at the West Side Comedy Club in New York, he addressed the fallout from his sexual misconduct revelations, saying he’d been to “hell and back” and that he’d “lost $35 million in an hour.”

While many were critical of C.K.’s comeback attempt, West Side Comedy Club host AMarie Castillo told the comedy website LaughSpin that the comic “was so genuine and reflected on how weird his year was” in his October appearance. “Sounds to me he is owning up, acknowledging, and trying to figure it out,” she said.

But in a December set, he didn’t sound much like someone trying to figure anything out. In audio posted on YouTube, apparently from an appearance at the Governor’s Comedy Club on Long Island on December 16, C.K. poked fun at gender-nonconforming youth, Parkland school shooting survivors, and Asian men, among other groups. (The club was unable to confirm to BuzzFeed that C.K. was there that night, though multiple people posted on Instagram that they had seen him perform there.)

“You know why Asian guys have small dicks,” he said at one point, according to Patrick Smith and Amber Jamieson of BuzzFeed. “’Cause they’re women. They’re not dudes. They’re all women. All Asians are women.”

C.K. also said he thought it was ridiculous that the term “retarded” was now viewed as inappropriate, Smith and Jamieson reported. When some listeners appeared shocked, he responded, “Fuck it, what are you going to take away, my birthday? My life is over, I don’t give a shit.”

C.K. has not responded to a request for comment from Vox.

Aziz Ansari once included a sexual harassment storyline on his show. Now he’s complaining about Twitter outrage.

Ansari’s comedy has always been more lighthearted than C.K.’s, but he hasn’t shied away from difficult topics. In a 2015 Netflix special filmed at New York’s Madison Square Garden, he asked women in the audience to raise their hands if they’d ever been followed by a “creepy dude,” according to Eren Orbey at the New Yorker.

“Yeah, that’s way too many people,” he said when hands went up. “That should not be happening.”

The second season of his Netflix show, Master of None, also included a storyline about sexual misconduct. Ansari’s character, Dev, teams up with celebrity chef Jeff Pastore (Bobby Cannavale) for a show called Best Food Friends. But Dev is forced to make a choice when a female crew member reveals that Chef Jeff repeatedly harassed her. The episode, which aired before #MeToo gained steam in fall 2017, felt true to life, as Isha Aran pointed out at Splinter, “from the fears victims face in going public to the misogynist skepticism they’re met with when they share their stories.”

But in January 2018, a woman going by the name Grace told the website Babe.net that Ansari had repeatedly pressured her for sex while the two were on a date. She called it “by far the worst experience with a man I’ve ever had.”

“We went out to dinner, and afterwards we ended up engaging in sexual activity, which by all indications was completely consensual,” Ansari said in a statement on the allegations last January. “The next day, I got a text from her saying that although ‘it may have seemed okay,’ upon further reflection, she felt uncomfortable. It was true that everything did seem okay to me, so when I heard that it was not the case for her, I was surprised and concerned.”

“I continue to support the movement that is happening in our culture,” Ansari concluded, presumably referring to #MeToo. “It is necessary and long overdue.”

By fall 2018, however, his tone sounded different. In a Connecticut stop on his “Working Out New Material” comeback tour, he complained about Twitter users debating whether a teenager’s prom dress constituted cultural appropriation, according to Orbey.

“Everyone weighs in on everything,” he said. “They don’t know anything. People don’t wanna just say, ‘I don’t know.’”

He also decried “the destructive performativity of Internet activism and the fickle, ever-changing standards of political correctness,” according to Orbey. He compared left-wing Twitter users to Trump supporters (“at least with the Trump people,” he said, “I kinda know where they stand”) and accused them of competing with one another in a game of “Progressive Candy Crush.”

“One might have hoped that, nearly a year later, [Ansari] could find a way to reckon with one of the movement’s messiest lessons: that even men who wish to serve as allies of women can, intentionally or not, hurt them in private,” Orbey wrote. “Instead, like other men who have reëmerged in recent months, he seems to have channelled his experience into a diffuse bitterness.”

Ansari has not responded to Vox’s request for comment.

If C.K. and Ansari can’t reckon with the allegations against them, can anyone?

Allegations of sexual misconduct against C.K. and Ansari hit fans hard in part because of the thoughtful nature of their comedy — these were supposed to be the good guys.

The accusations prompted fans and critics to reevaluate both men’s work. At Splinter, Aran notes that despite its sexual harassment storyline, Master of None’s second season displays some underlying misogyny. Dev’s relationship with love interest Francesca, in particular, sends the message “that a woman’s initial reluctance can be chipped away at, that indifference is a wall to be torn down.”

C.K., meanwhile, had been telling masturbation jokes for years. As Melena Ryzik, Cara Buckley, and Jodi Kantor reported at the New York Times, “he rose to fame in part by appearing to be candid about his flaws and sexual hang-ups, discussing and miming masturbation extensively in his act — an exaggerated riff that some of the women feel may have served as a cover for real misconduct.” His film I Love You, Daddy, which was initially scheduled for release in November 2017, dealt with a relationship between a famous filmmaker and a 17-year-old girl.

And C.K.’s December set does recall some of his earlier work — the man who complained about teens today and their pronouns is clearly the same one, for instance, who expressed nostalgia for a time when he could use homophobic slurs without being criticized.

Still, C.K. and Ansari were somewhat unusual as male entertainers willing to delve into issues of power and privilege and talk about the ways men hurt women.

That’s what makes their current material so surprising. Ansari and C.K. aren’t just avoiding the subject of #MeToo — they’re going in the opposite direction, complaining about political correctness and outrage culture when their comedy once sent the message that women were absolutely right to be outraged.

Their new work is reactionary — crude jokes about Asian men wouldn’t be out of place at a Trump rally — and it’s dated. C.K.’s complaints about they/them pronouns aren’t just offensive; they’re also tired, well-worn platitudes parroted by everyone from psychologist Jordan Peterson to TV host Piers Morgan. C.K. may think his new material is edgy, but his rant about young people today sounds like it could come from Grandpa Simpson.

Some have speculated that C.K. is consciously courting a more right-leaning audience with his new material after losing the trust of his previous fans, and it’s certainly possible that he and Ansari are pivoting to please the people who were eager to explain away the allegations against them — those who think sexual misconduct only matters if it rises to the level of the allegations against Harvey Weinstein, or who believe that men who are accused deserve swift and unconditional forgiveness.

Whatever the case, the trajectories of C.K. and Ansari are doubly disappointing — first, because men whose work had a feminist bent were accused of hurting women, and second, because they let those accusations destroy the nuanced social awareness their earlier work displayed. Apparently, C.K. and Ansari were only interested in challenging the status quo when they remained unchallenged — once women spoke out against them, they performed the comedic equivalent of packing up their toys and going home.

That’s sad for all of us. We don’t get to see the comedy these men could have created if they’d wanted to face, rather than flee from, our current moment in history. And we don’t get to see two thoughtful entertainers bring their talents to bear on a project that matters to all of us — figuring out what it should look like for men accused as part of #MeToo to apologize, atone, and move forward.

Ever since the #MeToo movement gained mainstream attention in 2017, there’s been a lot of talk about what accused men can do to redeem themselves. Now, more than a year in, it’s certainly possible to imagine some of the accused truly reckoning with their pasts — Dan Harmon’s apology for sexually harassing a writer on his show offers a view of what that might look like. But it’s hard to hold out much hope for such a reckoning on a large scale when two men who seemed like they, of all people, might be able to look deeply at their own behavior have instead chosen to pander to those who would excuse them.

______________________

AZIZ DIDN’T FUCKING DO ANY GOD DAMN THING WRONG!!!!!!

[hannahindie]

We’re No Heroes - Chapter 2

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, sister!reader, Tony Stark Word Count: 2,169 Warnings: Adult language, crochety Dean, and Tony Stark. I think that’s enough warnings. A/N: So this whole Avengers/Supernatural idea I had got out of hand, and this is the second part to it. There is no timeline for either universe; it’s most definitely an AU. As far as the Avengers go, it’s obviously before Infinity War (for reasons I’m sure you can guess) and I think, generally speaking, we’re just ignoring that Age of Ultron existed. (Unlike a lot of people, I didn’t mind it...but that’s just whole other level of me trying to fit stuff in, and it already hurts my brain. lol) Also, we’re just going to pretend that Civil War either happened and turned out better or it just didn’t happen at all. The Supernatural part is set sometime after they’ve found the bunker. What I’m saying is, I do what I want, and I want all of these people in one spot, and there doesn’t need to be an explanation. Doesn’t have to make sense. Just...let it happen, and bask in it.

Beta’d by @pinknerdpanda, because she’s been my lifesaver as of late. Well, always, but especially here lately. Thank you, twinny. <3 “ I love grumpy old man Dean.”

As always, tags are at the bottom. If you’d like to be added let me know! This fic will, hopefully, be updated every Wednesday until it’s over. Hopefully.

“So, Agent Springfield...Springfield, right?”

“Yep, that’s right.”

“Like Rick Springfield?”

“Yep. My friends call me Dick.”

“May I call you Dick?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, Agent Springfield, what I’d like to know is why you’re in New York. I’ve spoken with the local authorities, and not one of them can tell me why you’d be called in. Not a clue.”

“Hmm. Well, the locals aren’t always included in federal investigations, so there’s your explanation. I don’t report to them.”

“I don’t think you report to anyone. I think you’re impersonating a federal agent, and at the same time, lying to one. You do realize that I’m part of the organization, right?”

“I don’t even remember your name, much less your job description. No offense.”

“Let me refresh your memory, Dean Winchester. My name is Phil Coulson, and I’m the reason you aren’t in a jail cell in a high security lockup. You’ve done some pretty heinous things, so forgive me if I’m less than patient with you. Now tell me, what in the hell happened out there?”

“Why don’t ask you ask your merry band of men in tights? I seem to recall they had a hand in all of it.” He leans forward and Coulson sits back slightly, his eyes wide. “They certainly didn’t seem to be offended by someone like me. Maybe explain why the heroes of the universe would associate with such a heinous individual such as myself? You call me a serial killer? Looks like maybe you should do your job better. I seem to recall a few casualties at the hands of,” Dean rolls his eyes as he air quotes, “‘Earth’s Mightest Heroes’. Now my bro…” he clears his throat and leans back in his chair, “my partner, he’s the true crime expert so he would know better than me...and correct me if I’m wrong...but that sounds a hell of a lot more like a serial killer to me.  And you just let them run around in high tech suits and without superversion…” he whistles and puts his hands behind his head, “Doesn’t sound like a good idea to me, although I guess the government has a lot of those-”

“They aren’t serial killers, and if I were you, I’d be very careful how far you step over the line. I’m not asking them, I’m asking you. What happened out there?”

“You’re not as much of a pushover as I thought you would be, Phil. What’s your last name again? Collins? I bet you can feel it in the air tonight, can’t you?”

Coulson glares at Dean, his knuckles white as he clenches them tightly. “It’s Coulson,” he manages to grind out, “and you’d do best to remember that. Now, tell me.”

“Awwe, I’m just having fun with you. I know your last name is Coulson, Debbie Downer. Anyway, it started about a day after we got to New York…”

“Well, that was a fucking bust, wasn’t it?” Dean grumbles as he takes his jacket off and tosses it in the backseat.

“Did you really expect it to go any differently? Since when do we ever actually get the answers we need?” Sam grabs Dean’s jacket off the seat, straightens it, then lays it gently on the bench seat with his own. “Maybe Y/N’s got something.”

Dean climbs into the car and shuts the door as Sam goes around to the passenger side, “Yea, maybe.” He starts the car, and after checking his mirrors, pulls out into the road and is quickly honked at by a taxi that seemingly appears out of nowhere. He sticks his arm out the window, flashes his middle finger, then continues into traffic. Sam rolls his eyes and sighs, and Dean looks over at him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Why don’t you call Y/N, see what she’s found?”

Sam is already scrolling through his phone, and he glances at Dean as he puts his phone up to his ear, “You know, you could go easier on her. She's an adult, and she grew up the same way we did. It's different with her, she can take care of herself.” He frowns when she doesn't answer and hangs up.

“What?”

“No answer. She's probably researching. Let's head back to the hotel and see what she's up to.” He taps out a quick text and hits send, then puts the phone back into his pocket.

“I know she grew up like we did, but that doesn’t mean anything. We just found her, the last thing we need is another Adam situation.” They both fall silent at the thought of the youngest Winchester brother still trapped in the cage. “Anyway, I’m just saying, we gotta watch out for her. Her mom will kill us if something happens.”

“She’s not going to kill us.”

“Sam, she could be Ellen’s twin. She will absolutely kill us.”

“Dean, you’re being ridiculous.” They pull into the valet parking and Dean practically growls when he hands his keys over. “What is wrong with you?” Sam hisses under his breath as he grabs their jackets and his bag from the backseat.

“If she so much as gets a thumbprint on a window…” he glares at the valet as he climbs into the driver's seat, Adam’s apple bobbing nervously as he swallows thickly under Dean’s hateful gaze.

“She’ll be fine. What is with you today?”

“I just don’t see why we have to stay in this fancy ass hotel. We could have stayed outside the city for cheaper, and I could park my own damn car. Maybe gone to a bar where I don’t have to pay to just sit down.”

“You don’t have to...you know what, never mind. It’s only for a couple of days, anyway. We’re scoping it out, then we’ll meet up with Garth and see what we need to do.”

Sam smiles at the woman at the front desk, and she blushes furiously before ducking behind her computer. Dean rolls his eyes as Sam pushes the elevator button.

“What?”

“Nothing, Mr. Universe, nothing at all.” They walk into the elevator and Dean jams his thumb into the thirteenth button. “Thirteenth floor. I feel like that's just asking for it.”

It is Sam’s turn to roll his eyes as they ride the rest of the way to their room in silence, other than the canned Muzak playing through the small speakers above them. The elevator finally slows to a stop and the doors slide open with a ding. “When we get to the room, please just...lay off her, huh? She's not a kid, she's a good hunter.”

They step out and begin walking down the hall. “Why don't you quit telling me what to do? As much as you're repeating it, it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself that she's fine.” He puts a hand on Sam’s arm and stops him outside their door, “She’s our responsibility now. We promised Alice that if she came with us, we’d keep her safe. Just being a Winchester is one strike, and I’m sure Y/N taking our last name is probably a second.”

Sam sighs, “Do you really think Alice would have let her come with us if she didn’t trust us? I mean, you’ve met her, right? She’s not exactly a pushover, and I’m also pretty sure she doesn’t care about the last name thing. Y/N did that before we even knew she existed. Nothing is going to happen to her, okay? Not everyone we care about dies.” Dean raises an eyebrow and Sam sighs again. “Alright, I see your point. She’ll be fine.” Sam unlocks the door and pushes it open, “Y/N, were you able to find anything-” He stops mid-sentence when he sees the that the room is empty and exactly the way they had left it that morning. “Y/N?”

Dean throws the bathroom door open, then walks into the connecting suite to find it also empty. He walks back into the living room, “You were saying?”

“I’m sure there’s a good explanation. Maybe she decided to work at the library instead of coming back here.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and frowns, “She’s not answered my text message.” He taps the screen, then quickly puts the phone to his ear. “Y/N, where are you? Call us back as soon as you can.” He hangs up, then looks at Dean, his brows knitted in concern.

“Okay, clearly no one came here...so somewhere between the police station and here, she went off course. It’s Y/N, so that’s not a surprise. And like you said, when she’s researching, she doesn’t pay attention to anything else. You’re probably right, she’s just at the library. Now, where’s that?”

“Do you realize how many libraries are in this city? She could be anywhere.”

Dean plops down on the couch and runs a hand over his face, “Yea, well, we have to start somewhere.”

“If you have a good idea, let’s hear it-” Sam is interrupted by his phone ringing and he quickly answers it. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me. Get anything?”

“Seriously? Where are you?!”

“Oh, yea, sorry, I got caught up. You’re never gonna believe-” A muffled voice in the background cuts her off, there is a moment of whispering, and then she comes back on the line. “Actually, can you meet me somewhere? It’s uh...it’s kind of hard to explain. But I think I’ve got some help on this little demon problem we’re having...well, not little. It’s not little at all.”

Dean grabs the phone out of Sam’s hand, “Where the hell are you? You were supposed to come back to the hotel room, what happened?”

“Like I said, it’s hard to explain. I need you guys to meet me at this address.” She rattles it off before Dean has a chance to answer and he grabs the notepad from the coffee table and hastily scribbles the information she gives him.

“But you’re okay, right? All in one piece?”

“Yes, Dean, I’m fine. Thank you for being worried. Now, hurry your asses up and get over here.” The line goes dead and Dean hands the phone back to Sam.

“She gave me an address, let’s go.”

“Where is she?”

“I guess we’re going to find out.”

Dean pulls up to the address Y/N gave him and slows to a stop, his eyes slowly traveling from the entrance to the top of the very tall building.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” Sam asks without looking up from his phone. Dean grabs his face and turns it to the window and he looks up, his jaw dropping at the sight in front of him. “Are you... are you sure this is the address she gave you?”

“Yea, I’m sure.”

They both climb slowly out of the car, their heads turned upward at the sight, and close their doors.

“Mr. Winchester?” Dean looks down and sees a valet standing in front of him, his hand held out and smiling. Dean frowns and the valet laughs, “I’ve been told you’re very protective of...Baby. I promise, sir, she’s in good hands. I wouldn’t have this job if I wasn’t good at it.”

“He’s right you know, I don’t hire riff raff. Happy parks my cars all the time, top notch parking. As a matter of fact, he just parked my car, did it perfectly. Actually, we’ve got a deal, ideal parking in thirty seconds or it’s free.”

Both Winchesters snap their heads in the direction of the voice, their eyes wide. The man belonging to it walks casually down the stairs, sunglasses obscuring the upper part of his face. Dean drops his keys in the outstretched hand and walks around the Impala to join Sam. The man stops in front of them and pulls his sunglasses off, and Sam’s face transforms from disbelief to pure awe.

“What...we…”

“You must be Sam.” He looks him up and down for a moment, “You sure you aren’t part of the super soldier experiment? I mean, you’re huge. What year were you born? And where? I’d like to know what they put in the water there, maybe use it for something here. Science, you know. And you,” his eyes travel to Dean, “you must be Dean. I mean honestly, Y/N said you guys were large, but I think our resident super humans are going to be a little jealous. I’m not, because I’m comfortable with what I was born with, but you know how superheroes can be. Well, genetically enhanced superheroes, anyway.” He holds his hand out, and both Sam and Dean shake it half-heartedly, still confused by what is happening.

“Y/N...is here?”

“Yea, funny story about that. Anyway,” he waves in the general direction of the building, “welcome to Avengers Tower. I’m your host, Tony Stark. Food and beverages will be provided. Now, I think we’ve got some demons to take care of. Shall we?”

Like what you see? Would you like to see more? Check out my master list HERE.

Forever Tags: @trexrambling @pinknerdpanda  @wheresthekillswitch @emilywritesaboutdean @arryn-nyxx @emptywithout @escabell @charliebradbury1104 @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes  @deanssweetheart23  @canadianjelly @super-not-naturall @aubreyreadsstuff @dean-winchesters-baby @melissaj616 @fandomismyspiritanimal @keepcalmandcarryondean @assbutt-still-in-hell @owllover123 @rosie-winchester @amionthetumbler @duubaduu @hiimaprofessionalfangirl @goldenolaf25 @authoressskr @nanie5 @mrssamfuckingwinchester @zincomms @kathaswings @crazynerdandproud @barbedwireandbubblegum @sandlee44 @boxywrites @justanotherdeangirl @smalltowndivaj @captainradicalpassion @myloveforyouxx @atc74 @mrsbatesmotel53 @there-must-be-a-lock @masksandtruths @thelittleredwhocould @jotink78 @amanda-teaches @ilsawasanacrobat @squirrel-moose-winchester @mjdoc90 @anticipate1003 @mrswhozeewhatsis @mogaruke @speakinvain @linki-locks11 @wildlandfox @rhochradel @lostnliterature @eternal-elir @spn-ficfanatic @polina-93 @lexiiiii28 @poukothenerd @emoryhemsworth

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Sam Only: @bunnybaby121115

We’re No Heroes: @xalgaliareptx @primenumberscanbeintimidating @aubreystilinski @impandagrl @ludo4 @nikkilaf @babyimp67 @smi727 @lexiiiii28 @rideandwritethings @trunk-full-of-ideas @a-sad-excuse-of-everything @hetaliameow @gingermimi1975 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @contemplatin @tinyvelociraptor2319 @paintballkid711 @smandrews3 @waitwhatsrealityagain @adoptdontshoppets @marvelskitten-999 @frostingsfics @bookworm104 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @kararanae23 @dreamwhisper87 @hooked-onfandoms @sleepymessxc

[marveliciousfanfics]

Walk With Me Part 1

This is my entry for @dinnafashsoldat POC Writing Challenge.

Prompts: “You’re not taking me to bed. Ever.” “Who said it had to be the bed?” and “I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you.” Mexican!OC

A/N: I am a Mexican girl so when I saw this writing challenge I had to get on board. It is going to be about a 5-6 mini series. I love Thor. He’s my favorite! Even over Bucky and Steve because he’s just so...perfect and needs to be protected.

How does one ask a God to pretend to be your boyfriend? I asked myself as I nearly stared down Thor from across the room. He was reading a book dressed in Midgard clothing. His feet were on the coffee table, the book in one hand and the other spread across the head of the couch. I sat on the island counter in the kitchen with a cup of coffee pretending to read the news on my tablet.

My brother’s engagement party was in two days and I may have led my family to believe that I was dating the God of Thunder. Obviously, no one believed me, but I may have been secretly sending pictures of Thor doing normal things pretending we were doing it together. I had taken a picture of him in the kitchen making himself something and saying he was making me something. Then I took a picture of him at the gym saying we were training together. My cousins got a kick out of those ones male and female. Pathetic? Maybe. Desperate? Oh hell yes.

When my mother demanded I bring Thor to my brother’s engagement I knew I was in deep shit. But I didn’t want to admit I was single. Otherwise my parents were going to throw someone at me. Probably the son of the family’s friend. I didn’t want any of that. I also didn’t want them to know I was a big liar.

So for the past week I had been trying to work up the courage to ask him. Thor and I are friendly to each other. He was single, but I knew his focus wasn’t on getting into another relationship especially with another Midgardian.

I looked down to the news and went over the speech in my head. I moved my finger up and down the screen not really reading the news. Then there was a shadow over me. I turned around and all I saw was a chest covered in a white cotton shirt. My eyes drifted upwards and was met with one of his goofy smiles.

“You’ve been stalking me for a week now,” his smile hardly faltered. “What do you want to ask me?”

All courage left me so I laughed nervously and turned back around. “I-I do-don’t know what you’re talking about.” He moved to my right and leaned on the island counter with his right arm.

He raised an eyebrow clearly not believing me. But I honestly couldn’t ask him this. It wasn’t his problem and he had a lot of problems already. I didn’t need to add anymore.

“She wants to ask you to go with her to a family party,” Wanda’s voice came from the fridge. I whirled my head at her with wide eyes.

“The fuck, Wanda?” I growled.

She shrugged. “You would have never asked.” She got a bottle of water and walked away.

“Is she right?,” he asked his eyes had never left me.

“I mean…I guess. I may have led my family to believe we were dating so they could get off my back about being single for nearly six years,” I shrugged a shoulder still avoiding his gaze.

“Dulce,” he said my name and it made me turned to him and meet his eyes.

“It’s not like we would have to kiss or…do stuff, just hold hands and hug each other,” I turned my body towards him. “And it’s just for two days. I haven’t seen my family in a long time and basically everyone thinks we’re a thing.”

“I’ll do it,” he smiled.

“Oh…okay…just like that?” I questioned.

“I have never seen you so flustered. It’s cute,” he winked and I was sure my face was priceless. Did the God of Thunder just say I was cute? I told myself not to read too much into it.

“Okay, what would you like in return?” I offered. I didn’t want him to think that I was being selfish.

“Let’s just say you owe me,” he stood up straight. “When do we leave?”

“Friday,” it was Wednesday so I knew this was going to spread around like wild fire at the compound. Tony was probably going to mock me. “Our plane leaves at eleven in the morning.”

Thor’s eyes twinkled. “Did you assume I would agree?”

“I hoped,” I smiled at him. “Thank you, Thor. My family is very…” how could I word it without freaking him out, “close and we basically tell each other everything—for the most part.”

“Well, you have two days to catch me up. How long have we been together? And how did we get together?” he walked over to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of water. He placed one right in front of me. “Drink. All you’ve had is coffee.”

I chuckled. I always did forget to drink water and somehow he was always around to remind me. So I opened the bottle. My head felt lighter now that the hard part was over. Well, the hard part was going to see how my dad was going to take to me bringing Thor home. I knew he had hoped I would get with the son of his best friend. So did everyone in my family. They all thought Bruno and I were supposed to get together and have the perfect family.

“Okay, so we’ve been dating nine months and we got closer during training at the gym, doing missions and me teaching you about my culture—which I have to do in two days,” I slapped my forehead.

“Ah, yes,” he took the seat next to me and since he was so damn big his knees touched mine. There was hardly any space between us. “Your parents are from Me-he-co,” he grinned widely proud of his pronunciation.

I had corrected Tony once during a mission and I guess it stuck with Thor.

“Yes, they immigrated when they were young. But they had all their children here so my siblings and I are first generation,” I said proudly. “A lot of my parents’ family is in California, which is where we are going. Southern California to be exact. I have a bunch of uncles, aunts and cousins—oh! I have an album in my room. I’ll go get it so I can go through it.”

I twirled in the stool until it let me out of Thor’s knees and I jumped off. I jogged to my room and went to my closet and pulled out the big photo album my mom made me bring with me. I went back to the kitchen and he was exactly where I left him. I got back to my spot, but faced the counter so I could place the album between us.

I opened it and the first thing was a photo of my parents’ wedding. My mom had those puffy shoulders and lots of ruffles dress and my father had his ‘mariachi’ suit on since that’s how they met. My mom had been a waitress at a Mexican restaurant where my father played with the mariachi band. He had been the singer. I told Thor and he said it was adorable. Then the next page were the pictures of the oldest sibling—my brother who was getting married.

“His name is Alfredo Junior—named after our dad, so we just call him Junior,” I explained to Thor who was looking at the pictures with great concentration. I moved on to the next one. “This is my sister Camila—she’s a wife and has two kids, a boy and a girl named Charles and Elizabeth—my sister is a big Jane Austen fan. My parents hated the names at first, but they’ve learned to live with it. Charlie is eight and Eliza is five.”

He nodded his head. I went on to the next page.

“This is Beatriz—or Betty and she’s getting her Master’s in teaching. She’s the smart one in the family. Now, what I’m about to show you doesn’t leave this…kitchen,” I laughed and he did too. I turned the page and revealed my baby pictures.

“Oh, my! Look at little Dulce!” he all but yelled.

“SHHHH!” I looked around to make sure no one was around. 

“You were such a cute child. Look! you dressed up as a witch!”

“I was very into witchy stuff when I was younger,” and then attempted to turn the page, but he grabbed my hand to stop me. He either released some electricity with his hands or I felt a connection. I pulled my hand away, but he didn’t seem to notice or feel it because he went on to stare at my pictures.

I held my hands and tried to shake off from that and since it had been clearly one sided I had to pretend nothing happened. He finally let me go on. I had a lot of family so it took about two hours to go through the album. There were some photos I removed because they were too painful to look at. At the end Thor asked if he could keep it so he could study it. For some reason I agreed to let it happen. Maybe this was going to be a huge mistake.

The next day I was woken up by the sound of my cellphone going off. I reached for it at the night stand and saw that it was my sister Camila. I groaned. I answered because we couldn’t ignore a family call—not ever again.

“Yes?” I answered with a dry throat.

“You’re really going to bring Thor to the party?” her tone told me she still didn’t believe me and if I was her, I wouldn’t believe me either.

“Uh, duh. I told you so,” I scoffed but felt bad for lying to my whole family. But for so long they were pushing and pushing me to get with Bruno, but I knew what he wanted. He wanted a trophy wife and after New York I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. So I decided to join SHIELD—which had fallen, but then I was recruited by Tony to work for the Avengers so I took the offer even though I was going to have to live across the country from my family.

Not a lot of my family moved out of states. Sure we had family in Mexico, but the ones we did have stayed close, except me.

“How did you snatch a snack like that?”

“Because I’m an incredible catch, you bitch,” I sat up on my bed and across my room was my dresser where I could see my disheveled hair. I was not a fucking catch at all. “There were sparks and voila, he asked me out. I said yes.”

There was a giggle in the background and I knew it was Beatriz.

“Does he have a big dick?” Betty couldn’t contain her laugh.

I couldn’t hide mine either. “The biggest I’ve ever had.” I leaned back on my headboard. “And does he use his fingers so well.”

“Goddamn stop it!” Junior yelled.

“Am I on speaker?!” I growled.

“Relax it’s just us,” Betty continued to laugh. “Ma went to set up the backyard and Pa went to get his mariachi suit from the cleaners.”

“Is he putting his band back together?” I rubbed my face in frustration.

“Better warn the God of Thunder that Pa is going to grill him for dating his ‘innocente princesa’,” Camila mocked calling me an innocent princess.

“Have you warned Bruno?” the concern in Betty’s voice told me she still had a huge crush on him. I didn’t know why dad didn’t push them together since Betty really liked him.

“Should I?” I didn’t really think about that.

“Hello, you are literally bringing a God.”

“Bruno is good looking too!” Betty defended.

“Yes, we get it. You have the hots for him, Betty, but he only has eyes for Dulce.”

“It has been years. I’m sure he’s moved on. He’s had girlfriends so…he’s moved on,” I wasn’t so sure of that because those relationships didn’t last that long.

“Suuuuure,” Junior and Camila said at the same time.

“Okay, bye, putas, I gotta go shower and teach Thor how to dance la becadrita.”

“Is he bringing the Stormbrea—“

I ended the call before Junior finished. I groaned at how I was ever going to teach Thor to dance. I didn’t know how they danced at Asgard. Did he have to left feet? Would he be okay just learning the basics? Just so when we danced we didn’t look like complete idiots.

A/N: to me this is how I picture Dulce. She’s a Mexican actress and her name is actually ‘Dulce Maria’. Rebelde was a mexican soap opera that happened to be my guilty pleasure.