#obviously it's because you can see my gas girls pin

[georgia-stanway]

Spot me lol

[writingsbychlo]

sinner | bucky barnes

word count; 14,861

summary; bucky is spending the one day he get’s to walk the earth freely the way he usually does. normal demon things. then, he meets his angel.

notes; I got carried away, nothing else to say. the pic is pretty much exactly how I picture demon!bucky looking. also, I did not proofread this, because it’s three am. take it easy on me if it’s riddled with grammatical fuck-ups.

warnings; it’s literally called ‘sinner’. you can work out the warnings.

Bucky didn’t mean to run into you, in fact, you certainly weren’t what he was looking for as he wandered the aisles of a grocery store at two in the morning, but he still had hours before the day really began and the fun could really start, but sometimes he’d find runaways or strays who were so high he thought they surely shouldn’t be able to stand, who he could convince to do a little theft, but then there was you. 

Here he was, making the absolute most of the first few hours of the one day that demons were allowed to walk the earth, darkness still filling the sky and a cold breeze that was more than enough to make him shivering the coolness of the late-year air, and then you’d strolled in. 

An angel on earth, literally. 

He’d heard tales, girls so pretty they could bring you to your knees, an aura that glowed and glittered, all things holy and magical, and the absolute opposite of him, and he was drawn to you from the second that you’d stepped into the building. The cashier behind the till was just a kid, snoozing against his hand as the addict in aisle three continues to shove chocolate bars into his pocket, upon hearing whisperings that he should - something Bucky was still smirking about - as he followed you around towards the bread section.

He could see you more clearly now, and you really were gorgeous. Soft skin, covered mostly by hospital scrubs, and he tried to cover his scoff, finding it absolutely typical that an angel would be here working in a hospital, some kind of selfless act, and he wouldn't be at all surprised if you were a volunteer too, just to really rub your altruistic nature into everybody else’s faces. That was the one thing he didn’t understand, he didn’t get how everybody looked up to Heaven and prayed to a God or deity, how nobody thought it odd how they were all constantly being shamed by bars they could never reach, set so high they weren’t even in sight anymore, but then again, he didn’t like to judge. 

Not when his own actions would be so heavily frowned upon, but what can you expect from a demon? It’s in his nature.

You were tired, you weren’t paying much attention, a scrap of paper in your hands that look awfully similar to the back of a prescription as you moved through the store, trying to fill your basket with everything you’d need, none the wiser as he tailed you slowly, studying you, trying to work it out. From all the stories he’d heard, angels had left the earth long ago, so long that their existence at all had become something that he’d heard questioned many times in the underworld, and so he couldn't quite work out why you were herein a gas station store in the first few hours of Halloween morning. 

He wanted answers, he wanted to get a little closer, confirm it all for himself, and as you spun around to head to the checkout, you crashed right into him, a yelp leaving you as you jumped back, and your eyes finally met his, once you had steadied yourself. One look into his eyes, a quick flicker around the edges of his body as he was certain you could see his own aura, tainted and stained with darkness, before your eyes were going infinitely wider, and the basket in your hands fell to the floor with a crash. 

The items scattered around his feet, tins rolling away and disappearing under shelves, and that exhaustion you’d once had was fading away, replaced with shock and fear, and as you took a step back, he took another step forwards, crowding you up into the shelves, a hand on either side of your head to keep you kept from leaving, and a smirk took over as he watched you tremble a little. 

“Demon.”

You hissed the word out like an insult, and he feigned offence, before that wicked smirk he knew he was wearing twisted up into a sinister grin, head tipping to the side just a little. “Well, hey there, angel.”

“What do you want?”

“You’re very hostile. I haven’t even done anything to you.” He paused, eyes scanning over your face, closing in on the place where you were nibbling on your lower lip anxiously. “Yet.”

“If you’re going to kill me, then just kill me, demon. Get it over with.” You were shaking now, full-blown fear, and he let out a little sigh, dropping his hands but remaining where he stood. 

“There’s no fun in that, is there?” You only scowled, standing strong in spite of the fact that he could practically hear your heart beating out of your chest. “What are you doing here?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means; what are you doing on Earth, on all Hallow’s Eve?” You had the guts to shove at his shoulders a little, pushing past him to begin to collect your shopping back up, and he sank down into a squat, tipping the basket back to the way it should be, and placing the items back within it carefully, waiting for your answer.

“I live on Earth, and I’m running late to get home. Away from the likes of you.”

He handed you back your basket as the two of you stood, having gathered everything you could find, and he let out a low ‘oooh’ in teasing at your words, laughing through it as the furrow between your brows only deepened. “I thought angels didn’t live here anymore, not holy enough for you once it was corrupted with sin, so you all retreated back up to the promised lands, to spit on the rest of us from the clouds.” He sneered it a little, he couldn’t help it, but you avoided his eyes, shoulders sinking as you shrugged.

“Yes, well, that would be spectacular and all, but they don’t let halfbreeds into Heaven.” He waited, walking alongside you as you moved towards the counter, and he would laugh at his own image if he could see himself now, but somehow, here he was, wasting the only day of the year that he was free to walk around the surface and escape from the depths of the underworlds by helping you pack your groceries. “My father was one of them, and my mother was not. I’m just a cast out. Earning my way.”

“Interesting.”

You only deadpanned, punching your PIN into the machine a little more aggressively than he thought would be normal for you, but then again, you were on edge, and even with your soured mood, you still wished a cheery goodnight to the kid behind the register that made him sick with the amount of earnest goodwill lacing your tone. “What do you want from me, if not to kill me? Is this part of the thrill for you, to make me let me guard down and then to kill me?”

“I don’t want to kill you.”

“All demons want to kill people.” You stopped short at the door, and he almost bumped into you, close to dropping the bags in his arms as he avoided the collision, raising his brows a little bit as you glared at him, before snatching your backs from his arms and taking a wide step back from him. 

“I see I’m not the only ones with misguided ideas about the other.” He tried to take a step forward, but you twisted away from him, protective of your groceries and your life. “Not all demons want to kill. Some of us just get our kicks by convincing people to commit petty crimes and scaring kids on Halloween night. Well, that and stealing candy from babies, obviously.”

He could see the way you tried to suppress your amusement, but your lips flicked up at the sides, and you dropped your shoulders, seeming to give in. Your eyes rolled slightly, before you were moving once again, clearly trusting him enough to let him walk you over to his car, and he held your bags for you as you opened it, loading them into the trunk before slamming it shut, leaning against the cold metal. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, demons can only come up to the surface on H-”

“No, I don’t mean here.” You waved your arms, making a large circle that he supposed was supposed to represent the Earth, before you were pointing at the building behind you both, shaking your head. “I meant here. Like, the grocery store. Surely that’s wasting your one day.”

“Well, I met you, didn’t I, angel?”

“Stop being so.. flirty.” You shuffled uncomfortably under his stare, your true nature showing through, and a shock of thrill and excitement raced through him, tucking some hair behind your ear, before you shook him off. 

“Can’t help it. It’s in my nature. Lust, and the other ‘deadly’ sins, as such.” You didn’t reply, and as much as he hated to admit it, you were the most exciting thing that had happened to him in decades of Halloweens, so he gave in, moving a half-step away for you again to give you your space. “Not much to do at this hour, except kill people in alleyways. But, that’s not really my style.”

“I see.”

“Can I be brutally honest with you?”

“Have you lied to me, already? We’ve only known each other for twenty minutes. Then again, you are a sinner.” He chuckled at your pathetic jab, but shook his head in denial, soothing you a little. 

“Your life sucks.”

“It does not!” You crossed your arms over your chest, foot stomping a little, and it was an adorable display of anger if he was being true to his thoughts. 

“Yeah? Let me guess, you’re wearing scrubs so I reckon you work at a hospital or care facility, probably a volunteer too, or you do some kind of volunteer work to fill your time. You took a night shift tonight to cover for someone else, because you just can’t say ‘no’, even though you should’ve been inside keeping safe from ‘the likes of me’, as you put it, and I bet you’ve never even been kissed. You’re pure, completely and totally, you probably have a routine, oatmeal for breakfast, Church on Sundays, bible on the bedside table.”

You gaped at him, jaw hanging slack now, and he reached a finger up to push it closed, and you soon formed an irritated pout in response. 

“So, did I get anything wrong?”

“No.” You grumbled it under your breath, gritted out angrily, and he only laughed in response, winding you up further. Your foot swung out, colliding with his ankle before you even realised you were doing it, and as he bent over, crippled to grip at the sore patch in pain, your eyes went wide, fear suddenly flashing over your features again. I’m so sorry! I don’t know why I did that!”

“That would be wrath.” You shook your head, stepping away from him, and he could only nod in response, grin getting wider as he watched realisation flash across your features. “How did your first sin feel?”

“It doesn’t count! It was just a kick to the ankle!”

“Yes, in anger. That would be wrath, angel. It’s not that bad, trust me.” Your eyes were glassy now, and he placed a hand over your jaw, calloused pad stroking over the skin of your cheek as he tipped your head upwards. “See? No lightning strikes, no plagues, no punishments. And don’t you just feel so much better now that you’ve done it?”

“A little bit.” You gave in, letting his corruption really take place, and your eyes dropped down to find his, tearing your gaze away from dark and glittering skies. “I’m not a sinner, though. I’m good.”

“Yes, but this day is bad. Nobody is looking today. You liked it, I know you did. Don’t you want to try another sin? Just on this oh-so-evil day, and tomorrow, you can go back to being a good girl. Be bad with me today, angel?” You didn’t reject him, not right at once, and he took that as a good sign, your breath hitching as he stepped a little closer, enough for him to be able to taste the coffee on your breath at the short and sharp puffs you let out. “Have you never wondered? Which one have you always wanted to try, late at night, when it was just you and your thoughts? Is it pride? Gluttony?” He leaned in, enough to brush his lips with your own, your breath hitching in your throat. “Is it lust?”

“Sloth.”

“What?” He snapped back a little, not sure he’d ever really expected a response from you, and he felt a gleeful fire burn through you as you took your first step away from holiness and more towards him, just at the simple admittance, to both yourself and to him. Swallowing thickly, he watched as your mind spun, processing your own words, before you were seeming to settle on them with confidence. 

“I have a routine, just as you said. I get up early every morning, and have breakfast, and do some work. I volunteer at a shelter and I do rounds at the hospital even when it’s not my day in, just to pray with those who want some company, but some days I don’t want to. I’m tired, and I want to sleep in. I want to lay in bed until late morning, and fake calling in sick to work just to have a day off, to do anything I want.” You had your own smile now, something brand new flickering through your eyes, and as you looked at him, and he laughed breathlessly at the confession.

“So, do it.”

“I-” You seemed to remember who you were, and where you were, then disappointment took over. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s wrong.” He sighed, hand dropping down to your waist, pulling you closer into him, and he could feel the steady thumb of your racing heart against his chest now, and he wished his own would react at all, but it had been so long since he’d felt anything from the organ that he’d almost forgotten he had it at all. 

“If it’s so wrong then why does it feel so right?” You had no response to that, rendered breathless again, and he took his chance, pushing the boundaries a little further. “Give me this one day, I bet we can fit all seven sins into this day, when nobody will notice your sins when mixed with all the demons roaming the surface, and if you don’t like it, then I promise you’ll never see me again, and you’ll never have to think about it.”

“We can stop at any time?”

“Whenever you want.”

You hummed under your breath, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, before caving and offering him a nod. “Big words for someone who only has twenty-one hours left of the day to keep his promises.”

“Well, then, we’d better get you home, angel. You have a big day coming up, and I know just which sin to start with. Let’s get you that late morning you’ve always wanted.” You merely sighed out, contented and happy with the thought, before you were nodding, and turning around to get into your car. Nodding to the passenger side, his grin only grew as he took the offer, climbing in beside you, and settling into the plush leather as the vehicle rumbled to life.

After an exceedingly long sleep in, one where you’d actually then continued to just lie in your bed for upwards of an hour after the daylight had forced away your grogginess, you were left peering out of the window, staring down at the city below from the high-windows of your apartment, the bustling streets with a chaos that didn’t reach all the way up here to the serene quiet, and your lips flicked up at the sides as you remembered the comment that the man who’ already managed to flip your world upside down had made as the two of you had finally made it back to your apartment at almost four in the morning

‘Top floor, huh? Trying to get closer to heaven, or just in it for the workout?’

Turning onto your side, his lips were parted as he slept, slow breaths and a sight rasp following his breath each tie, but not quite a snore. As he was asleep, you had a chance to really observe him. You’d never met a demon, before, you knew the rumours, of course, and some of them were more tame, auras of darkness and a twisted kind of ugly that made you repulsed. Of course, there were also the wilder ones, horns and hooves and rotting flesh, but he was neither.

When you took him in, you decided that he was actually kind of beautiful. Scruff lining his jaw that made him look a little wild - something that was bound to be intentional - and the colour of his eyes flashed through your mind once again even if they were coed now. The colour was burned into your mind, not a glowing red, or all black, but instead the kind of soft blue shade that the ocean looked on a misty morning at the beach, grey clouds overhead that were the calm before the storm.

He was taller than you, much taller, and his frame almost filled your bed, broad shoulders pushing you to one side, further over than you’d ever slept before, even on the large piece of furniture, but he’ insisted that he wasn’t sleeping on ‘no damn couch’, and in your exhaustion and excitement, you’d simply waved a hand as he kicked off his shoes, crawling under the covers beside you. The comfort had been inviting, you’d never experienced such a thing before, but it was oddly peaceful to share a bed with someone else, to feel their warmth creeping over to you as well, the steady thump of a heart or the rise and fall of a chest with every breath, and you hadn't realised how lonely you were until right now.

“Stop fuckin’ starin’ at me.” You huffed, watching as that peaceful expression became a scowl, and he rolled over towards you a little, cracking an eye open to peer up at you. “What?”

“Nothing! You’re just not like what I thought a demon would look like. I’m taking it in.”

He sat up a little, running a hand over his face, before shaking his he'd to try and clear a sleep-muddled brain. “Yeah, well, you’re exactly what I expected an angel to look like.”

“I don’t know whether that’s a compliment or an insult.” Despite the bickering going on between you both, his movements had caused the blankets to lip down, a chill coming in to claim you, and you shuffled a little closer to him, seeking out more of the warmth you’d become addicted to in the last few hours of sleeping beside him.

“It’s neither. Just a statement. Innocent, pretty, that whole weird ethereal vibe that draws you in. That's you.”

“That sounds like a compliment to me.” You all but sang the words, and he rolled his eyes, a grunt leaving him, but he made no move to distance himself from you, and so you knew it was all in false anger.

“I’m revisiting the idea of killing you.” His eyes flicked up to the large clock on the wall, studying it for a second, before turning to look at you incredulously. “I thought we were sleeping in? It's eleven.”

“I normally get up at six! This is late for me, very late.”

He only shrugged, pushing back the covers and standing up, letting you wrap yourself in them a little more, before he was patting down his pockets, searching for something in the jeans that had been abandoned on the bedroom floor. A cardboard box and a lighter, and he was balancing a cigarette between his lips.

“Open a window!”

He only glanced over at you, raising his brows, before stepping across the room to the large panels of glass, clicking off the lock and pushing one open, before flicking on the lighter and igniting the tip. He held it between two careful fingers, a repetitive motion as he brought it up and down from his lips, lips curling each time he expelled the smoke, and it was a weirdly hypnotic scene to watch.

The sound of the traffic and bustle from below was now reaching your ears, muffled and distant but you could still pick it up, the bitter smell of smoke still making it over to you, and your nose scrunched up a little, before you were holding the blanket closer to yourself, and making your way over to stand beside him.

“You’re staring at me like you’ve never seen a cigarette before.”

“I have!” He chuckled a little at your eager enthusiasm, heat rising to your cheeks with your embarrassment, and you shrugged as best you could, from where your hands were pressed to your chest to hold the blankets closed and keep your warmth in. “I’ve just never..”

“Smoked one?”

You only nodded, and he seemed to consider it, taking an extra-long drag, before he was pulling the dwindling stick away from his mouth, flipping it between two fingers, and bringing it to your mouth. He had an expectant look on his face, nothing pressuring or judgemental, simply apprehensive, waiting to see if you’d take the offer before the flickering orange reached his fingers and burned him. The taste was lingering on the air, and you leaned in, lip parted and he grinned, placing it gently on your lower lip, pushing forwards until the edge of his finger was brushing your lips, and he gave you a nod.

Sealing your mouth around it, you took in a deep breath, dragging the air through the device, and the heat that coursed through you was enough to make you pull away and cough, a tingling and burning in your throat and lungs as the smoke clouded out around you, dissipating in the air, and you once again flushed with embarrassment, but the laugh you anticipated hearing from him never came. Instead, he looked almost proud, and you didn’t have a chance to question it, before he was taking the last breath himself, stuffing it on your window frame and ignoring your complaint, before flicking the butt out of the window and closing it once again.

“So, what are we doing with the day now?”

“Hm, well, I promised you all seven. One down, six to go. I’m hungry, so let’s go with gluttony next.” His eyes twinkled a little, and you thought about the sparsely packed fridge you had, just enough simple necessities to get you by and be healthy, nothing that could be deemed even remotely gluttonous, but you were excited to experience it, nonetheless. “There’s a diner near here, we’ll go for breakfast.”

As promised, you are allowed to take even longer, the longest shower you had ever taken in your life, until the entire room was so filled with steam that it felt like a sauna, and you were pruning up. You didn’t even bother to make your bed, instead opting to just lay flat on it for a while, still in your towel as you listened to the demon you were - for some unknown reason - trusting, as he moved about your living room and tinkered with your things.

When you were finally ready, you didn’t care to make the bed, or put on sensible shoes with laces, or even do your hair properly. Instead, you wore a hoodie, and your comfiest flats, and just ran a brush through it, and you’d never felt lazier in your life. You had spent every day doing yourself up to standards and making sure you were being sensible and rational, the proper attire for a day at work, running around a hospital and doing everything you could for everyone else, and nothing for you, and today, you’d texted in saying you were sick and weren’t coming and you’d relaxed, truly relaxed, for what you felt may be the first time in your life.

As promised, you were given a filling breakfast, with more than enough leftovers for a week’s worth of breakfasts, but you didn’t take any of them. At first, it had bothered you, watching as the waitress stared at you both with a little bit of judgement, a little bit of shock, and a little bit of amusement as the man opposite you had listed off dish after dish, until you’d been moved to a bigger table just to accommodate it all. With a bite of it all, you’d worked your way through the dishes, and the drinks, a sip from all of their wide range of coffees and milkshakes, and by the time you’d finished and enough food to feed a small army had been wasted, you were wandering out into the carpark with a wide grin on your face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this full.”

He turned to look at you, beaming as you spoke the words as though they’d been a compliment, and you began to pat your pockets down for your keys, a wave of panic washing over you when you couldn't find them. A moment later, there was a jingling, and you followed the sounds, to find Bucky waving them at you, smirking around the straw in his mouth as he finished his milkshake, tossing the to-go cup in the vague direction of the trashcan.

“When did you even take those? How did you take those?”

“I’m not exactly new to pick-pocketing.” He shrugged, holding open the passenger side door for you, and you hopped up inside of it, grinning as he rounded the car, and it would seem that he was taking it upon himself to drive. Once he was inside of the car and starting it up, his hands were fiddling with the dial for the music, changing your classical music station over to some soft rock, and while it was unfamiliar to you, you tried to settle into it.

“You’re different.”

“We’ve covered this.” He mumbled, fingers tapping against the steering wheel to the song that was playing, and you turned a little more towards him straining against the safety belt across your chest, and not missing the fact that he hadn't bothered with his own.

“No, I just mean, you’re gentlemanly. You held the door, paid for breakfast, didn’t try anything with me last night, even though we shared a bed. It’s admirable.”

“Well, firstly, I didn’t pay for breakfast.” Your face paled a little, realising you’d essentially stolen the meal, but then again, you shouldn't know better. When he told you to go ahead and that he’d been right behind you, you hadn't questioned it, and now, that felt like it was slapping you right in the face. That’s where innocence gets you, you supposed. “Secondly, as I said, we already covered this. You do know there’s, like, tiers for this shit, right?” You only gave a short laugh, turning to look at him a little, and you could already feel your own mischief bubbling up within you.

“You mean the seven circles of hell?”

“Oh, you’re so funny.” He was grumbling now, pretty-coloured eyes rolling in his head, and you continued to snicker away to yourself, but didn’t miss the little flicker of his lips into a smile, that he did his best attempt to disguise as a simple twitch, but you knew better. “No, not the ‘seven circles of hell’.” He imitated your movie as you spoke, a scowl taking over your features at the poor impersonation, but it was quickly washed away. “More like, privileges, I suppose? Those down there because they’re not pure enough to go to all things good and dandy go down below.”

“So, how does it work, then?” He cast you a little glance, studying you for a second, deeming you to have a genuine interest, before one shoulder was raising and falling in a simple shrug.

“Those who are, like, the bad kind of bad get it, well, bad. People who killed for fun, the people who hurt others for their own enjoyment, people who do, y’know..” He didn’t have to say it, your face screwing up as you thought about exactly the sort of people who would count as ‘bad-bad’ and he nodded. “No privileges for them. They just get to suffer.”

It went quiet for a second, and you could practically see the cogs working in your new friend's mind as he tried to sort his thoughts out.

“Then, there are people who did bad things, but it’s not serial-killer bad, y’know?”

“Oh, like tax-fraud and grand theft auto?” He let out a laugh this time, entertainment shining through.

“Technically, yes. I don’t really know how it all divides up. It’s just my job to punish people who need punishing, I don’t ask questions.” That caught your attention, and you perked up slightly, ignoring the fact that you’d pulled into your building’s parking lot, and that the rest of the journey was over, the car coming to a halt, but instead, you were more intrigued about finding out more from the man before you.

“You punish people? The bad people?”

“Yeah. I suppose you can consider today my day off.” He grinned, moving to climb out of the car, and you struggled to follow him, falling into step beside him.

“But, doesn’t that make you good? Getting justice and all?”

“I never said I wasn’t good, angel.” He cast you a look from the sides of his eyes, a little put off by the insinuation you’d made. “I’m created in hell. I don’t really have a soul, or anything that would let me into Heaven. Besides, I do enjoy doing some of the things that would get me cast out.”

“Like what?”

You regretted asking the question from the second you’d asked it, a smirk taking over his features, and he turned to you in the doorway, finger under your chin to hold your face up towards his as he leaned down a little, breath washing over your face as your heart froze in your chest. “Like fucking.”

He watched you, heat crawling up your cheeks as your eyes went even wider, and he grinned, eyes flicking down to your mouth, licking over his lips for just a second, before he was pulling away.

“We can get to that later, though.”

He was ahead of you, long legs making wide steps as he crossed the lobby to the elevator back up to your apartment, and you had to race just to catch up with him. “So, do you have horns?”

“What?”

You slipped in just as the doors to the elevator were closing, and he scowled, clearly having been hoping he’d be able to cut you off, and you almost wished he had, because you'd forgotten just how cramped his large frame made the small box feel. “Y’know, like-” you lifted up each hand to the top of your head, index fingers sticking up as the rest of the fingers curled into a fist. “-horns?”

“Do you have wings?”

You felt a little taken aback by his sneer, lips pursing as you realised he’d taken your joke the wrong way, and you passed by a few floors in silence, before he let out a deep sigh, shoulders slumping slightly.

“No, I don’t have horns.” He looked around the ceiling of the building when you stepped out of the elevator, a hand on your arm to bring you to a halt in the corridor, and he must’ve deemed it safe, before his fidgeting stopped. “I have something, but it’ll freak you out if I show you.”

“I can handle it.”

“I don’t think so, angel.” You huffed, and he continued on, car keys being used to find your house key, the door swinging open, and you followed after, complaints spilling from your lips as you did, and you caught the door as it swung closed, before it had a chance to hit you in the face.

“I can handle it! You're underestimating me!”

“Am I?” He was making himself comfortable once again, already going through the contents of your fridge, pulling back with the carton of orange juice, and you cringed as he popped the lid from it and took a swig right from the bottle. “You’re just a half-angel. You can’t take it.”

Anger boiled within you, and you weren’t sure where this side of him had come from. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

You gaped, jabbing an accusatory finger into his chest as he finished off the orange juice of your own that was supposed to last you all week. “I’ll have you know that I’m a lot stronger than you think. I work in a hospital, okay? I can take whatever twisted shit it is that you have to show me. I can take a lot of things, alright, pal? I think I do pretty well for myself, actually! I mean, if you haven’t noticed, you’re standing in my penthouse apartment, drinking orange juice that I bought, after recklessly driving my fancy car, so screw you. I can handle anything you could throw at me and more, you’re just rude.”

His head tipped to the side, and you let out a ragged breath, not giving him a chance to speak, before you were continuing;

“And, for that matter, I think I’ve done pretty well all around. I have a great job, and I do good work there, and I have spent over two decades avoiding the likes of you, living all on my own, so this little hitch that came in the form of you doesn’t matter, because even after today, I’ll still be doing pretty damn good. ‘Can’t take it’, yeah, well, you can shove your freaky demon thing that you refuse to show me somewhere that the sun doesn’t shine, okay?”

You huffed out, and he crossed his arms over his chest, neutral expression cracking out into a wide grin. “That was a great speech, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, well, thanks.” You were confused, caught off guard by the praise after you were given, your mind still spinning.

“You seem pretty happy with everything you have here. Would you say you take pride in it?” You almost retorted, a witty comeback at the tip of your tongue, before you realised what this had all been about, your shoulders slumping, and you dropped your head into your hands, a weak laugh on your lips and you climbed up onto one of the stools at your kitchen island.

“You got me all worked up into a rage for pride?”

“You’ve achieved some pretty amazing things in your life, and you should be proud of them anyway, even if it’s not for sin.”

You paused, eyes meeting his own, and for a second, the whole misconception of an angel and demon sitting across from one another being the kind of thing that would end worlds seemed to fade away, you were just a regular man and a woman, sharing the moment and sitting together on a lazy morning. He cleared his throat, looking around the room, not for anything particular, just to take it all in, before coming back to look at you, with something else in his eyes this time.

“Well, that’s another one crossed off of the list, anyway. I’d say we’re making pretty good progress.”

You only hummed under your breath, but he seemed to catch onto your hesitation, raising a brow at you. “Kinda’ have an idea about greed.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Do you think, maybe, you could take me there?” He stilled, the hand he’d been using to rearrange the salt and pepper holder in the middle of the marble countertop between you both fell flat.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s hell. It’s literally Hell.” He was adamant on this one, not the same kind of cocky attitude he’d had while fracking pride out of you, but this was more just a complete close down on the situation, and he didn’t even have a flicker of emotion as you glared at him, standing strong in his decision. “You can’t handle it.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m not fucking with you this time, angel.” He stood up, rounding the little countertop to stand before you, and he rested his hips against it, one hand coming up to cup at your face gently. A thumb ran over your lower lip, his eyes tracing his own movements, and you pulled back from him a little, too angry to let him hold you so tenderly, even if something deep within you was craving that kind of contact and affection with him. “Too dangerous.”

“But I want to.” You pouted at him, ignoring the little smile he gave to you as you did, and he forced his gaze back up to meet your own, shaking his head.

“What if you get stuck down there, huh? Time works differently. If it passes midnight, you won’t be able to come back.” The thought did send a flash of fear through you, and he seemed to notice it, thinking that the argument was over. “Besides, down there is where everyone else gets to show their real faces. Where you’d see mine.”

“You could just show me now, and then I wouldn’t have any kind of surprise.”

You didn’t expect him to go for that, to buy it, and you gasped a little as the man before you changed. Soft and fluffy brown hair was longer, brushing around his shoulders in strands that weren’t tied back into a bun, faded blue almost entirely taken over by black irises. His eyes were sunken a little deeper, some teeth a little sharper, jaw a little more defined, giving a much more dangerous look, the kind of intimidating you were sure was done purposefully to scare those who needed to be scared, crafted in the bowels of hell to torture the people who deserved it.

A deep pink and puffy scar ran along from the middle of his cheek and into the stubble on the right hand of his face, emerging further down along his neck. The sleeve of his left arm seemed to strain a little more now, shining metal poking out from underneath, a mixture of battered metal and shining steel, metal digits forming a fist as you stared down at the appendage.

Reaching a hand out towards him, he huffed, pulling it away from you, leaning the entire left side of his body out of your reach. “What are you doing?”

You ignored him, taking the hand in both of your own, and the coolness of it sent shocks along your nerves, goosebumps rising on your skin. He let you lift it, inspecting each finger carefully, gears shifting under your touch each time a finger moved, and he sighed as you lifted the hand, resting it over your cheek again, the same way he’d had it only moments ago, when it had been under the illusion of flesh and blood. “You still don’t scare me, Bucky.”

He let out a laugh, a breathless one, before he was closing the distance between the two of you, lips meeting your own, and a small squeak left you as his mouth pressed to your own carefully. It was all entirely new to you, feeling his other hand find your waist, nails scratching lightly at your skin through the material of your shirt, before you were placing your own hands on his shoulders, grasping at his shirt as you moved your mouth with his own.

It was slightly awkward, and slow, and you could feel yourself fumbling, but as your eyes slipped closed and you matched his rhythm, you found everything within yourself slipping away. You hadn't quite realised what it would be like, to have another person pressed up so close to you, and to know how it felt when their eyelashes tickled your cheeks the way his were know, that feelings within your stomach like fireworks were going off was making you feel lightheaded, gasps for breath each time he pulled back, twisting his head, noses bumping, before softly swollen lips were finding you once again.

It was of their own accord that your hands slipped from his shoulders to his neck, one travelling even further into his hair, gripping tightly as you pushed up into him, almost falling from your chair as your legs went weak as you tried to stand a little, and he turned you around, lower back pressing into the cool marble for support, before a low growl sounded out. It reverberated along your entire body, and you trembled a little under his hold, teeth dragged over your lower lip, before he was pulling away.

You were chasing after him, feeling his grip loosen on you and you whined, catching his lips again in a little kiss, a chuckle breaking it as he backed away enough to rest his forehead on your own.

“Don’t be greedy. I’ll kiss you again, later.”

“Or, you could kiss me now?” You teased, letting him lift you up to sitting on the countertop, and he wrapped your legs around his waist, thumb smoothing over your cheek as he felt that same embarrassed warmth flood your skin. He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw, using his nose to tilt your head back, before he was nipping lightly about the pulse point along your neck, and you weren’t in control of the sound that left you as he did, or the way your thighs tightened around his waist.

“I could, but, I thought you wanted to go to Hell.”

“I do.” You mumbled, before realising fully what he’d said, and you pulled him back by a handful of his shirt between his shoulder blades, darkened eyes finding yours in a curious gaze. “I do. Are you serious?”

“You have to promise to stay by my side.” You nodded, vehemently, a wide smile taking up on your face. “You also have to wear a watch.”

“I thought time worked differently?” You teased, and he rolled his eyes, taking your chin between his thumb and a metal forefinger, cutting off your laughs with a short kiss.

“It does, that’s the whole point. We need to know when to get you home.”

You only nodded, dropping down and disappearing, searching through your drawers and cabinets until you found the device you were looking for, checking its display against the wall clock on your bedroom wall, and thanking your lucky stars that it still displayed the correct time. You were attaching it to your wrist and waving it at him proudly as you reemerged, and he held his hand out for you.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Well, you only live once, right?” He huffed, fixing you with a pointed stare, and you burst out in a series of little laughs at your own words. “Well, some of us only live once, anyway.” He took your hand in his, barely letting you swipe up your keys before you were following him out of the door and back towards the stairs, stumbling over your own feet slightly. “Am I going to have to die for us to get there?”

“What? No. Why would you think that?” The crackling in his voice was amusement, and you shrugged, letting him guide you through the door that said ‘staff only’, and at this point, you’d stopped even questioning his actions.

“Well, I don’t exactly see a lot of portals to hell on my day-to-day travels.”

“It’s like a door that only demons can open. On this day, of all days. Sorta’ like a magnet, you just think about it, and it pulls you to where you're supposed to be.” It wasn’t exactly a description that set you at ease, and as you made it to the top of the staircase he was pulling you up, you were met with the sight of the sprawling skyline, the sounds of a busy city filled with people who were none the wiser to your current situation going about their mundane lives below, and even after today, you know you’d never be that same mundane person again.

Stepping out onto the roof, you were in awe, never having ventured up and gotten to appreciate it, and while your apartment was high up and the view was the same, it was more the experience that was leaving you speechless.

“Are you ready?”

When you followed the sound of his voice, he was standing on the edge of the building, hand held out to you once again, and you weren’t sure when you’d ever slipped away from him. You wandered over, nausea sweeping across you as you leaned over the edge to look down, the people on the streets below looking more like specks in the distance, and you pulled back rapidly. “To jump off the roof? That’s seriously the way to go?”

“It’s the fun way.”

You scoffed, knowing he was just doing it to mess with you, and he took your hands in his, guiding your gaze back up to his face. Wrapping your arms around his neck, and you held on tightly, feeling him grip your waist, pulling you in close.

“Just trust me, angel.”

For whatever reason, you did. You had full faith in a man who’d you’d only known for twelve hours, feeling him inch the two of you towards the edge, up onto the ledge, until you were precariously balanced, and your heart was threatening to beat right out of your chest. Pressing your face into his neck, his grip on you became bruising, and then you were falling.

The floor fell away, and you were racing downwards, hair whipping around your face as your eyes squeezed shut, that floating feeling becoming more like you were being dragged down. It was cold, biting cold, and utterly terrifying, and then it all just stopped. There was ground beneath your feet again, blood wasn’t pounding in your ears as you found yourself upright once again, and you were only dizzy from the way you’d held your breath, not from tumbling such a distance, and you forced yourself to exhale, slowly.

When you pulled away from him, the hand stroking soothingly up and down your back then stopped, and he lifted it to smooth down your hair instead. Whereas in your apartment, he’d seemed out of place and daunting in his own skin, now, he seemed to fit in perfectly. Shadows cast across his face made his features stand out, strong and bold, and instead of being scared you felt protected by his presence. It wasn’t nearly as loud as you’d expected it to be, and it was the exact opposite of what you’d pictured.

Instead of burning pits of fire and tortured screams, it was much like what Earth was, buildings and pathways and doors along each one, a reflection of the home you’d known so well, just with a little more destruction. He seemed to already know exactly what you were thinking, smirking his eyes a little, but you just accepted it, taking it all in. There was a bump against your lower leg, something soft that made you jump, and the man holding you chuckled. Turning, you watched a little cat run away. It had a torn ear and was missing an eye when it looked back at you, before it was dating through an open door before it closed, and you gaped a little as you lost sight of the orange-furred little critter.

“That was a cat.”

“Well, yes.” He deadpanned, hissing at the way you pinched his arm roughly for his words, and he mumbled under his breath about being careful before you ‘inadvertently achieved wrath’. “Haven’t you ever heard about cats being the guardians of the underworld?”

“In, like, Egyptian mythology, maybe.”

“Yeah, well, all myths and fables come from somewhere, right? Everything you’ve heard is just one interpretation of the same thing. Like versions of a story.” He offered, and you felt like every answer you got became all the more confusing, like you had no real idea about the world you’d been living in at all, until now. “C’mon. We have much to do, and little time.”

“What are we going to do?”

“You wanted to come here, that’s your choice.” He shrugged, and you gave him a blank look, as though you had any idea about what you were supposed to be doing. He seemed to pick up on it, a smile on his lips, before he was slinging an arm over your shoulders, and beginning to guide you away towards a door only a few down from one that you’d seen that little orange cat disappear through. When you got into the other side, you were in the hospital, the time seeming to move differently, everything around you flying by at super speed. “What’s the worst thing you ever witnessed in the hospital?”

“What?”

“The west thing. One of your patients, something you remember because it was just downright evil.” It took you a moment, but the worst one came to mind, and you felt sad witnessing it all over again.

“There was this man in here, once. Both he and the kid across from me were my patients. The kid was a car crash victim, both parents died, he was on life support, we were doing everything we could. If the kid died, he would have been the organ donor. The man smothered the kid in his sleep, we didn’t realise until the autopsy was done, by which point the guy had fled.” You shrugged, and he asked for the date, to which you mumbled, that day burned into your mind to last forever.

With a wave of his hand, that same speed that had been dizzying to watch as it moved like a movie on fast-forward was now frozen completely, and with a click, there was an entirely new setting.

Easter decorations, all around the hospital, Mercedes at the reception desk still had her hair dyed blue instead of her usual fiery red, the colour had taken a good couple of years to totally grow out; somehow, he’d taken you right back to the night that it had happened. Rainy, filled with clouds, water swilling around your car, and there was a loud storm outside. You remembered because it felt fitting, and it almost felt comforting when you’d cried in your car about it all before being able to drive home that night.

“Which room?”

“I, um, room three-oh-four.” You guided him through the halls, completely in awe of the way it resembled your place of work so clearly, and yet nobody could see it at all. You could see yourself, a younger version, standing behind the nurse's station and covering your yawn with your hand, a file in your hand as you tried to focus on it, and it was shocking to see it from such a different angle. You froze up a little as you approached the room, the two opposites, and you felt your heart crack a little at seeing that little boy alive once again, even if it was just barely. “That’s the guy.”

He followed the direction of your finger, a head of black hair in the bed across, idling himself on his phone, and Bucky stepped into the room, a sneer on his lips. Glancing at the name across the chart, he couldn't quite see it, but you already knew it anyway.

“Brock Rumlow.”

“Sounds like an asshole kinda’ name, already.” You could only nod, and just like that, Bucky was moving the timeline forwards again. Day to turned to night outside, you watched as he disappeared for a second, only to reappear a moment later, and then there was night becoming day, and he was taken to surgery, and the day flew by, bodies flying in and out, the flash of your own floral-patterned dress as you move in and out throughout the day, and then, a week later, he was leaving. It slowed, you watched as he went, following him right out of the hospital and into a cab, and he was none the wiser as in this turn of events, you and Bucky joined him.

It went by again, years flying back, Bucky’s eyes moving as he somehow seemed to see and understand every moment, before suddenly, it was all stopping. You were out of the cab, but when you left it, it was a firetruck instead. The building before you was burning, thick plumes of smoke curling up into the air, windows were broken as tall flames curled up and roared into the sky. Sirens were wailing, and water was spraying, and you could feel the heat even from here.

“Building fire.”

“Hm?” You twisted to look at him, and the demon beside you motioned up to the building.

“That’s how the universe got even with Brock Rumlow. He stole organs from a child, and he got trapped inside his apartment. He’s down here.” You felt your breath get stuck in your throat as he said those words, before you were finding his hand, gripping tightly with both, and his fingers curled back around your hand, before he was sighing, loudly. “Do you want to see him now?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, everything around you seeming to go into slow motion as he dulled the sounds, before you were pressing yourself into him a little more, feeling his lips brush against your temple as you let out a breathless laugh.

“I’ve thought so much about what I would do if I ever saw him again. Give him a piece of my mind, tell him how bad of a person he is, make him feel bad. Now, though, I’m not all that sure I could control myself.”

“Who says you have to?” You peered up at him, eyes wide, and he shrugged, cupping your face with both hands as he watched panic begin to take over you. “He’s a child killer, a selfish prick, he deserves everything he gets down here. This is a place for punishment, and maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

“Okay.”

He took your hand, the closest door to the two of you opening back up, and just like that, you were back in the stone hallways, crossing over to a wooden door, bolted from the outside, and as his hands wrapped around the handle, it changed, simplistic designs shifting to that of one you’d expect to see on a little farm cottage, before he was opening it up and ushering you inside.

“Where are we?”

“His Hell-scape.” The door scratched against cobblestones as it was pushed shut behind you. “Germany, early nineteen forties, the precipice of modern medicine. It’s cold, and he’s fled from the war, he’s taking shelter in a little farm cottage. He needs surgery, and you’re about to perform it. There’s a kid, who could donate the blood, he’s sitting over there by the fireplace.”

Just as he said that, the door swung open once again, and there he was, stumbling inside as blood seeped between his fingers, and just like that, for the first-ever time in one of these scenarios, he was looking you dead in the eyes. He begged for help, and the little boy by the fireplace looked up, wide eyes and he was on his feet, dashing over to you. He cleared the table, helping the man to lie down, like the good little soul he was, and you ushered him away upstairs. With a knife from the kitchen, you sliced open the front of his shirt, watching as blood oozed out of several bullet wounds across his front.

Blood spewed out, and for a second, guilt washed over you as you hesitated in your motions to save him, but then you were remembering everything he’d done, and you could feel the presence of Bucky behind you, the scene you’d relieved as you watched the evil take place, and you felt no regret as you pushed a finger against one of the wounds. Hard metal met your finger, blood-curdling screams from him on the table as you pushed it even deeper, before pulling away, and making sure that he was looking you in the eyes as he did.

You weren’t sure if he was able to recognise you, or whether he was completely engrossed inside of this illusion, but you swore you saw something pass over his eyes, seconds before he was passing out. Little feet were coming down the stairs, and the boy was there again, watching rivers of blood dripping into puddles as they ran from the tabletop, a teddy tucked safely in his arms as he looked up to you again.

“Are we going to save his life?”

“No.” You hummed, wiping your hands on a rag, and it was shockingly different to see the way the boy whose eye colour you’d never seen before looked, how young he really was, and you took him by the hand as you guided him up the stairs. Tucking him in and brushing the hair back out of his face, you pressed a kiss to his forehead, and he fell asleep before your eyes, chest rising and falling of its own accord. It wasn’t real, you felt it slipping away under your fingers, and when you made it back down the stairs, the man on the table was dead, hand hanging limp, and it all slipped away.

Darkness filled the room, the features melted away, and he guided you back to the corridors, tears sliding down your cheeks as you left it all behind.

There was concern on his face when he looked at you, but you didn’t care, because you were pulling him in by a fistful of his shirt in order to press desperate and needy kisses to his lips. He reciprocated, humming happily as his hands found your hips, smoothing around towards your back, one warm and one cold as they pressed to you, and your wet cheeks pressed to his, gasping breaths as you sought out comfort in his touch.

“Are you okay?

“I’ve never felt like this before.” He pulled back, whining a little when you kept pressing up into him, and he pushed you back a little bit, ignoring your complaints. “It’s a rush, and it felt bad but only for a second, before it felt right. Not to hurt someone else, but to serve justice. I love saving lives, I do, but that felt incredible. It felt like closure.”

“You officially checked off wrath, angel.”

“I don’t think you can call me that anymore.” You teased, and he shook his head, pulling you in close enough to brush his lips against your own. It was a fleeting kiss, something that left you desperately craving more as you burned up from the inside out.

“You’re always gonna’ be my little Halloween angel.” He grinned, trying to wipe your cheeks dry.

“I think I’m checking off envy, too.” He beamed, raising his brows in silent questioning, and you gave him a lame shrug of your shoulders in response. “I just don’t think I could go back to my regular life and be happy now, knowing there’s so much more that I could be experiencing. My job won’t be fulfilling when I know how much better it would be to do yours, and be here. I hate that you don’t worry about anything, that you haven't spent your whole life worrying if you're good enough to get into somewhere only to spend the rest of eternity keeping up those standards. I wouldn’t have to be anyone but my true self here, and now, I’m not even sure if I know who that is.”

“You could find out, though.”

“Also, there’s a girl over there who keeps looking at you and I don’t like it.” He glanced over his shoulder, noting the pretty demon who was waving at him, tight curls and red lipstick and she looked like she was straight out of the world war’s era, but then again, everybody down here seemed to be fixed in some kind of time period or another.

“Envy doesn’t suit you, angel. You much more suit pride.”

His fingertips pressed into your sides a little, tickling you lightly, and you grinned, mind leaving her as you came crashing back into a world where only you and he existed. Dipping down, his nose brushed with yours, and you closed the gap, sighing out happily when you felt the rough prickles of his beard under your palm, the other hand sliding down to rest on his chest.

The tip of a tongue traced your lower lip, and you gasped at the feeling, before his tongue was pressing through the parting and into your mouth, a needy noise slipping from you before you could control it, leaving you feeling like you were floating within the clouds as you fell even further into him. You were pressed up to him now, bodies colliding, and what was once slow and sensual suddenly felt like it was rushed and frantic. Mouths meshing, growls and whines shared between you both and you were ruining the neat bun in his hair as your hands were pushed into his mouth.

His hands were exploring too, further than they’d ever been, one solid and one fleshy and then there was a warm palm gripping tightly at your ass, squeezing the flesh there roughly, and you keened up into him even further. Metal lifted you up, your legs fastening around his waist automatically, and you could feel him moving as you gripped onto him roughly. One hand digging nails into his shoulder as the other tugged on a fistful of his hair, a ragged moan leaving his lips as the two of you stumbled through the nearest doorway. Bedsheets found your back, and you were breathing clearly again as a hot mouth travelled along your jaw.

Stinging skin, drags of his teeth over heated flesh, and you were living in a world you’d never been in before as you felt those same hands now dip underneath your shirt, beginning to push it up as he adventured further.

“Where are we?” You mumbled, eyes fixed on the low hanging lighting extension from the ceiling, and he pulled back from the mark he was working to leave on your collarbone, an incredulous look on his face as he peered up at you. Swollen and shiny lips, half-lidded eyes, and a slight shine to his skin that paired with his messy hair made him look even more sinful than he usually did.

“My, uh, my room?” You sat up a little more to take it in, and he leaned back from where he was balanced over you, letting you take it all in.

“How convenient that all the doors you need are so close together.” He grinned, shaking his head in a way that made you think you were missing something, and he pulled you to sit up a little more, the haze over you both clearing slightly.

“Sweetheart, most of the doors work like the entrances, you just have to think about where you’re going, and you go there.”

It was like your world was clearing up, and as he knelt back, you moved forwards enough to settle into his lap, a soft giggle leaving you when you felt his hands come down to grip at your ass to keep you balanced, a smirk on his face as you did. “I was kinda’ expecting, like, bones on the wall, dungeons, dark, flickering torches, the whole shebang. I’m almost disappointed that it looks like a normal bedroom.”

“You have a bad habit of believing stereotypes.” He muttered, leaning in again to take your lower lip between his teeth, tugging on it lightly, and you keened up into him, finding the mattress either side of you dipping a little as he held himself up over you. “And I thought that after everything we’d done today, you’d have reconsidered it all.”

“Well, after all we’ve done today, I still have one sin left to complete.”

He grinned, nodding his head before his mouth was closing over your own. With one warm hand gently pushing up the edge of your shirt, you let him take it, sitting up just enough to let him peel the material from your body, before he was kissing along your neck, licking and sucking his way along the flesh until it was stained with blotchy red marks that would blossom into purple bruises sooner or later.

Then, as his fingers brushed over the delicate skin of your ribs, he was letting out a breathy laugh, pulling away once his lips were grazing the edge of your bra.

“Angel, I gotta’ be honest with you. I really like you, I do, but this bra is awful.”

You looked down at yourself, head clearing for just a second, before you were groaning, shaking your head as you looked down at the garment strapped to your body. “I don’t own any other bras! They’re practical, they support me at work. I’ve never really had a reason to own fancy underwear."

You were popped up on your elbows, and he grinned wickedly, metal hand undoing the catch with a simple flick of his fingers, and then it was falling loose. “Bet you’re wearing cute little white cotton panties, too, huh?”

You could only nod, feeling a blush beginning to climb onto your cheekbones, and it was a feeling you were rapidly growing familiar with while being in his presence.

“You drive me insane, in all your innocence. Am I the first person to get near your sweet little cunt? Tell me I am, angel.”

“You are.” You were breathless, everything from the way his lips curled around the words, to the sound of his voice, right to the way his eyes raked over you in a way that could only be described as predatorily, made your body burst out in flames, craving something you didn’t even know, but you just knew you needed him to keep going, to continue with whatever it was he was doing, because he had you floating on Cloud Nine.

“I’m gonna’ take such good care of you, I promise.” As he pulled the material away from your chest, that heat was spreading down, along your neck, and yet you didn't feel anything but powerful under his gaze. You’d never expected to have this kind of life, after hearing from your mother what had happened to your father for his sins, you were determined not to follow that path, but now, you wanted it all. You didn’t care about standards and responsibilities, you just wanted to drown in the way his tongue was dragging along your stomach as he left wet kisses along your skin, until he was mouthing at the place just above your jeans, soft skin teased with lips and teeth, until he was popping the button on your jeans carefully.

He took it all, stripping you down and taking his time, mumbling praises into your skin until there was nothing else clad on you, except for the slip of cotton over your core, and he was kneeling back at the end of the bed, two large hands palming at your thighs, and he licked over his lip, dragging the lower between his teeth roughly.

“Fucking hell, angel, you’re drippin’.” A single digit, lifting to brush over your covered folds, and as you were touched so intimately, you couldn't help the gasp that slipped from you. “Ruining your panties, sweetheart, soaking right through ‘em.”

“Please.”

He looked up as you whispered the words, eyes already blown out dark with lust, the grey-blue colour you so deeply adored was almost entirely gone, and it was like the tension in the room shot up even further. “Do you even know what you’re asking for, angel, or do you just want more?”

There was a teasing undertone laced in his voice, and you would’ve commented on it, snapped back at him for his taunt, had it not been for the way he lifted that finger up, knuckle brushing over the pulsing bud between your legs, and then he was circling it, a dull pressure applied, and your hips left the bed as your back arched. “That! I want more of that.”

“So fucking pretty, all needy and beggin’ for me, already.” He switched his positions, instead of a knuckle, it was the flat of a finger, and you were already shaking under his touch as your entire body lit up with fireworks. “Are you sure you want to do this? Once we do, there’s no going back. You don’t want to save yourself for someone special?”

“I’m already with someone special.”

His motions paused, before a slightly bashful smile took over his face, and you giggled upon looking at him, sitting up enough to take his face in your hands, moaning against his lips as he picked his movements back up, just to drive you crazy. “You sweet-talkin’ me, angel?”

“Nobody would ever believe me if I could make a demon blush.”

“Just something about you. Don’t know what it is, but you drive me crazy.” He whispered, closing the distance as you continued to test him, a sloppy kiss that was more collisions of lips and tongue, and you could barely keep up. You were so focused on the way it felt to be utterly surrounded by every inch of him that you didn’t feel him move until the barrier of fabric was gone, tearing meeting your ears and then there was nothing between you both, a calloused finger gathering the wetness you’d built up, slick on his finger, and your breath hitched as the tip of that same warm digit traced your entrance.

Anticipation, anxiety, and slight fear washed over you, and he seemed to sense it, from the way that you tensed up, before he was pushing you back down to lay in the bedding, body pressed to your own. You were tugging at the shirt on his shoulders, whining a little, before he let you pull it up, holding himself up long enough for you to strip it away.

“Let me open you up, okay? Get you ready, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Stealing a final kiss, he distracted you, the way a finger slipped inside was something entirely new, your closed eyes snapping open again, and he let out a long and deep sound into your mouth, feeling every inch of your walls clamp up around his intruding finger, wet and velvet and enticing. He pumped it slowly, a wince on your face at the pull at your entrance, before you forced yourself to take a deep breath, focusing instead on the way his lips felt on your skin, and the way it felt when your bare flesh was gliding over his.

Erotic, sweat built up that made your skin stick against his in the most arousing way, the dips between his muscles shining, making everything about him stand out even more prominently, and you had never allowed yourself to consider a man as particularly attractive before, but now you were seeing through a whole new gaze, you were certain it couldn't get much better than him. Sharp jaw, pretty features, broad shoulders and a mouth to give up all innocence for, you couldn't even blame yourself for giving everything up to him.

There was a curling of his finger, the blunt nail dragging over your walls, and a shudder ran along your entire body as he did, a cry of his name leaving your lips, and suddenly, the final puzzle seemed to click into place. There was something romantic about offering yourself up to someone like this, something incredibly intimate about the way it felt to let yours be this vulnerable under someone else’s gaze, and you had never felt anything like this in your entire life.

A twisting in your lower belly, muscles clenching, and then another sting, a second finger sliding into you with ease as you all but dripped for him, the pain far more tolerable and even a little bit pleasurable this time around, before you were stretched around two thick fingers, barely processing the words he was offering to you, because your vision was going fuzzy and you felt like you’d left all forms of reality that you’d ever known.

Hands clenched in the sheets, tugging them roughly as you stiffened, and a soothingly cold hand pressed down on your chest, you hadn't realised your heart was racing and you were dragging in desperate breaths until the weight of the limb forced you to calm down. Bringing a hand up, you clung to him, frantic for some kind of grounding connection as you felt the rest of your inhibitions slip away. It felt like you were breaking down that final gate, like you were bursting from a cage, freedom and liberation and a feeling you’d never had before but were already addicted to the taste of.

Your throat stung, eyes burning from unshed tears, before he was pulling those fingers from you, an obscene slurping finding your ears, and you weren’t sure when your eyes had rolled back, or when your body had left the bedding, but when you collapsed back down into the soft cushions, with deep and raspy breaths, and forced your eyes open, he was licking crudely at his fingers, watching you carefully, something between caring and cocky stitched into his features.

“What just happened?”

“You just had your first orgasm, baby. How’d it feel?” He wiggled his brows, a smile that made you laugh, and you were still trembling, forcing yourself to relax as you melted into the blankets and untangled your fingers, surprised you hadn't ripped them entirely.

“I loved it.”

“Good.” The tip of his nose bumped against your own, and yet he never granted you a kiss, swerving away just long enough to settle himself between your thighs. “So much I want to do to you, so little time.”

He tutted to himself, and the denim of his jeans brushed over your sensitive centre as he dipped his head down. You weren’t sure where to focus, whether you were meant to fix your attention on the way his lips seal around one perky bud of a nipple, or the way you were meeting him roll for roll as you ruined the front of his jeans, material growing damp with your juices as you pleasured yourself, broken noises let out into the air as he abused your chest, switching between your breasts until he was satisfied with the way he’d left your skin spit-slick and shining.

A hand in his hair, you dared to take control, sick of waiting, and just wanting to get to the main event, what you did now know, and you needed it more than you’d ever needed anything in your entire life. You hadn't felt truly alive, or comfortable in your own body, until this moment, as he brought you to life and made you see stars, gave you things you’d never even known existed.

“Bucky, please. I can’t take waiting any longer.”

“Okay, angel. I got you, I know what you need.” He managed to peel himself away, a cool breeze sweeping in where he’d once been before he was stripping himself down of the remaining garments covering his body, and you felt your mouth go dry as he was finally revealed to you. He may have been crafted in hell, the epitome of sin and debauchery, and you weren’t surprised that so many people gave up on their purity to give in to lust, because you were just as weak as the rest of them as you looked at him.

Toned and tanned flesh, tapering down from broad shoulders to a narrow waist, defined muscles, sinewy skin and prominent veins, before a hard and leaking cock as bobbing in the air before you. He seemed to know you were admiring him, taking in every detail and committing it to memory, because he flexed a little, a look on his face that you were oh-so-familiar with, before you were reaching out to him.

He was happy to crawl into your arms, lifting your legs onto his waist, sticky pre-cum smearing across your thigh, before he was dipping into your wetness, gathering it up as he rocked his length against your folds, shared breath turning to pants as his forehead rested to your own. “Before we do this, I just wanted to say something.”

“Hm, don’t tell me you secretly have a tail that only comes out when you cum.”

He shook, his entire body wracked by the laugh that he let out, and he pulled back far enough that you could see the sparkle in his eyes, before he was shaking his head, a series of pecks pressed to your lips between muffled giggled from the pair of you, until you managed to calm down. “No, sorry to ruin another one of your predetermined opinions on demons.”

“I’ll get over it.”

He delivered a particularly sharp thrust, the tip of his cock bumping your clit, making your jerk in his hold, and you encouraged him on quickly, the scrape of your nails along his back making him hiss out. “I wanted to say that I haven’t felt like this in centuries, you’ve flipped your whole world upside down in just twenty-four hours. I wanted you to know that this is special, between me and you, just so you don’t regret it in a few days, when you think about us, when you're back home in your fancy apartment and living your normal life.”

“I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m with you.”

He took the compliment, not bothering to reply, but leaning in to take your lips with his own in a passionate kiss, as another hand slipped between your bodies to line himself up, before he was inching into you, taking his time and making sure not to hurt you. When he saw your face screw up, his hand caught yours, fingers weaving together and pressing back into the mattress, confirming that he was with you, an apology for the pain and a promise that it would go away without him even having to speak.

As his hips finally came to press to your own, you were holding back a sob, the wide girth and length he had were far more than his fingers had been, and while you’d stretched to accommodate him, it was still a new struggle, and you let out a low breath, feeling the soft presses of pecks along your cheeks and jaw, as he waited patiently. There was tension in his body, from top to bottom, feeling his muscles clench under your hands, and you rolled your hips experimentally.

A shot of pain, a whimper from your lips, but you weren't sure if that sound came from the sharp pain or the heated pleasure, a burst of it from within you, and your jaw dropped, and he let out a ragged sound, face pressed into your neck. “Holy shit, angel, you’re squeezin’ me like a fucking vice, tightest damn pussy I’ve ever known. Perfect, just like the rest of you.”

You grinned, hating the way that his filthy words could slide right into something endearingly sweet that had your stomach flipping and your heart skipping beats, all within in a split-second. “You can move now, it’s okay.”

He only gave a short nod, before he was doing as you offered, pulling back just enough to press back into you, a shallow thrust that didn’t offer much, drawn-out and delicate, but then there was another, stronger and faster, and he moved slowly, inch by inch each time, until he was pulling himself from you almost completely, and sinking back into your sodden heat.

“Oh, fuck.”

He bit down on your shoulder as you swore, cursing himself under his breath, tongue lapping over the spot. When he raised his head, there were wisps of brown hair plastered to his forehead, messy and tangled and you thought he looked stunning this way. Pink flushed cheeks, wide eyes, glistening skin, it was almost angelic, and there were certainly bits of him that made you question his allegiance, but then again, in the span of just one day, he’d made you question absolutely everything you ever knew.

Deep and fast thrusts, and you could feel every throb, every drag of him within you, each time he pulled away just to sheath himself within you once again, and you could feel your own throat stinging with the continuous loops of noises that you were letting out for him. He shifted, slowing for just a second, before one of your legs was being hiked up from his waist to his shoulder, and then, it was getting even better.

You thought he’d shown you the height of pleasure, that the feeling of being connected with him in such a way was all that it could be, but then he was reaching all new depth that made you scream. You couldn't take it, the continuous pounding on that little patch that made everything go blank. Stars in your eyes, white noise that barely let through the sounds of his loud moans and sobs of pleasure, but you could feel him coming undone atop of you, the way his pace faltered and his arm gave way, pressing you into the bed as he lost all semblance of self-control.

He was fucking into you without mercy, and you knew you’d be sore in the morning but right now you needed more. Your heel was digging into his lower back as you came unravelled once again, a peak crashing over you that was ten times stronger than the first had been and you were clinging to him like he was your only lifeline. Fingertips were digging into his flesh, nails raking red welts into his skin and he was growling and grunting, before gripping you with a hold so tight it was bruising, and a whole new kind of warmth washed over you.

His heavy-weight collapsing onto you was enough to warm you from the outside, but then he was spilling deep within you, a broken sound that tailed off at the end as his voice cracked, and you decided that in that exact moment, if you never got to experience anything this good ever again, you’d always cherish exactly how it felt to be marked and claimed as his, to know that no matter what, a little piece of your heart and soul would always belong to him, and him to you.

When he finally stopped moving, he didn’t pull out, but instead, rolled the two of you over until you were cushioned against his chest, and cheek pressed over the racing heart under his chest, and you grinned to yourself at knowing that you could make his heart do that, the organ he hadn't felt used in so long was now in overdrive under his ribs, and it was all for you. It wasn’t love, it couldn't be, it had only been a day; infatuation, curiosity, adoration, a range of emotions flooded through you but it was the possibility of something entirely new, and you thought it was perfect.

Clearly, he was feeling it too, because when you finally moved away from him, his eyes opened again, a weak sound of protest coming from him as you removed yourself from his body, laying down beside him, and sitting up a little, offering him a smile as he watched you. “Don’t leave yet. Stay with me a few more minutes.”

“I’m not going anywhere just yet, don’t you worry.” He was put at ease by that, you could see it from the way his shoulders slumped, and the breath he let out, before his arms were circling your waist and he was collapsing down against you.

You may never get into the version of ‘Heaven’ you’d always believed you were destined for, but this was more than that, it was everything you never knew you needed. Bringing a hand up to his hair, you wove your fingers into the damp strands, and he rumbled blissfully at the feeling, nuzzling further into your body as he did.

The rough stubble on his cheeks tickled you, made you want to shove him away and laugh out loud, but you wanted to hold him and comfort him more, the man overwhelmingly clingy after being intimate, and you treasured it. You had no experience to compare anything to, he was the master here, and you were learning everything, and you were sure to him that was like learning to walk while he was running marathons and doing hurdles, but he was patient and kind, and it was just another thing you’d assumed wrong about him.

Twenty-four hours ago you were someone completely different. Pure, and innocent, and completely unaware of the world you were a part of, and now, you never wanted to go back. He’d made you a promise that everything could be forgotten by midnight if you didn’t like it, but you wanted these memories and these moments burned into your mind forever, never to be taken away from you, so you’d always live in the time that your life changed for the better.

“So, I get it now.”

“Get what, sweetheart?” His words were given to you in a whisper, from where his cheek was pressed to your stomach, and you continued his hair, enjoying the happy rumble he let out as you did. The watch on your wrist showed the time, and you watched as he checked it, letting out a disgruntled little huff, before he was squeezing you a little tighter once again.

“Lust. Why so many people give in to it. That was incredible.”

“It only gets better. Didn’t want to break you on your first time, though.” He pressed a kiss to your skin, snickering as you scoffed at his words, and then he was pulling away far enough to sit up. You could see the scarring along his left shoulder so much clearer now, metal meeting flesh, bound with red scarring that marred beautiful golden skin, and yet his imperfections only made him seem even more perfect to you. “Maybe next year we’ll explore some more.”

“Next year?”

“Halloween is almost over, sweetheart.” You let him crawl further up your body, searching for your lips with his own until he wound his way home, and you flopped back into the pillows, taking him with you, breathless laughs expelled into both mouths until he was pulling away. “Mhm, no. When you kiss me like that, we get carried away.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Well, I like to think I can hold out, and I don’t think we could get everything I want to do to you done within six minutes.” He sighed dramatically, before rolling off of you and onto the bed beside you.

“What if we had more than six minutes?” He twisted his head studying you for a minute, before his lips were parting, and he was pulling your hands from where you were picking at the loose threads on the bedsheets, and he was bringing your knuckles to his mouth, gentle kisses pressed to them.

“Don’t speak in riddles, we don’t have the time for that.”

“What if I stayed?”

He sat up a little more, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “You know if you stay, this is the only place you’ll ever end up. Even if you left next year, even if you decided not to be here anymore, while you still have your life. You’ll never get into Heaven. You only have three minutes to make a decision that’ll decide the rest of your life.”

“I think I’ve already made it.” Something eerily similar to hope flickering between your eyes, and you only gave him a sweet grin, before his face was cracking open in a wide beam, and he was lunging at you again. “What did Heaven ever do for me anyway? I think I’d much rather stay and be a sinner here with you.”

He bumped the tip of his nose against yours, before moving down to press a sweet kiss to your lips, pausing for long enough to speak; “Maybe, but you’ll always be my angel.”

[your-eternal-muse]

She’s Got You Mesmerized

Heather Series Part Four

Part One Part Two Part Three

Summery: Reader is getting sick and tired of keeping everything inside. So, she lets him know exactly how she feels. Well, not exactly.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Heather, Spencer Reid x eventual Female!Reader

Warnings: Beginning of Nicotine addiction (please don’t smoke), swearing, mention of manipulation, Heather being a straight BITCH

Words: 2.2k

A/N: Not much to say here except that I’m the one writing Heather, and I hate her guts. I need a bitchy last name to give her. Any ideas? 

~~~~

I’ve never been one to smoke.

I did it when I was in high school to appear “cool”, but I dropped the habit after graduation.

I never really liked the taste, and no matter how hard I tried, I always ended up smelling like it just a little bit.

But I understand why people smoke.

Rebel against their parents.

Need something to do to catch a break at work.

Relieve stress.

I fall into the last category, the nicotine in my veins like a blanket of calm over me, as I dial the same number for the 8th time in the past hour.

As it rings in my ear, I bring the cigarette resting between my fingers up to my mouth, taking a long drag in.

“Hey, this is Spencer. I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name and number, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

BEEP.

“Spencer, the jet was supposed to leave 40 minutes ago. Hotch is pissed, and quite frankly, so am I. I get you’re getting married in three months, but if you could maybe take your dick out of her for a second, and remember you have a job to do, that’d be great.”

Click.

One last drag before putting it out underneath my heel and climbing aboard the jet.

“Anything?” Hotch asks, looking up from the file in his hand.

I shake my head, sitting down next to JJ, and dialing his number one more time.

“If he’s not on this plane within the next five minutes, we're leaving without him.”

BEEP.

I hold it up directly to my mouth. 

“Pick up your fucking phone and get your ass here!”

Click.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, the effects of the cigarette already leaving me.

JJ pats my leg, looking over the file again.

I couldn’t help my sour mood today, or the past month for that matter.

Every attempt I made to just resume being his friend, and get over myself, he’s ducked out at the last second.

“Heather wants me to go cake tasting with her.”

“I’m sorry, I agreed to stay in with Heather.”

“Heather isn’t feeling well, so I thought I’d stay home and take care of her.”

Sometimes he doesn’t even give one.

Sometimes he doesn’t even show.

Finally, right before the stairs are about to lift, Spencer appears, out of breath and disheveled.

“I’m so sorry. My phone died.”

Bullshit. It rang. You declined it.

“The hickey on your neck says otherwise.” Derek says from his seat, looking over the edge of the file up at him.

Spencer’s face turns red, knowing he got caught, his hand coming to rest over the fresh bruise.

I smirk a little.

“Spencer, I know you’re getting married, but you’re still a part of this team. Please try and remember that.” Hotch is stern, clearly agitated that we’re so behind schedule.

Spencer sets his bag down, and begins to read through the material.

It’s a relatively simple case, two bodies, same M.O., and Garcia already found a connection between the two victims.

We’ll be home within a few days.

And then Spencer can go back to avoiding me for whatever reason he’s not telling me.

When we land two hours later, Hotch splits the team up, having me and Spencer go back to the station and start on the geographical profile.

He won’t meet my eyes since listening to my voicemails.

He’s a smart boy. He knows I’m right.

When we get there, a detective leads us to a small conference room, and I thank him before setting down my stuff. 

A couple of cardboard evidence boxes are sitting on the table, and I start to remove the contents, placing them in piles on the table.

I don’t look at him.

I don’t speak to him.

Because I’m not entirely sure I won’t break down crying when I do.

I wasn’t as angry as I was upset.

I promised myself that the one thing that wouldn’t change, was our friendship. I’d still be his best friend, and he’d still be mine.

But even that seems to be changing and it feels like there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

I start taping up pictures of the victims and their wounds to the clear board, while he starts pinning up a map on the bulletin board beside mine.

The air is tense.

“You’re angry.”

No shit, Sherlock.

“How could you tell Spencer? Was it my cold shoulder or how I won’t meet your eye?” I begin writing down the notes we made while on the jet underneath the photos.

“Look, I know I was late. Unbelievably late. I should have told her no.”

“But you didn’t.” I slap the marker down on the table, turning to look at him head on, crossing my arms.

“No. I didn’t. I didn’t because-”

“Because you didn’t want to. You’re a guy, Spencer. When a pretty girl tells you she wants to fuck you, you can’t resist.”

I’m trying not to think about it.

About him fucking her.

How badly I wish it were me.

Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry.

“But I’m not angry about that Spencer. You want to fuck your fiance, fine, there are less normal things to do,” I take a step forward. “No, I’m angry because every time I call you, you decline it, when you used to pick up before it even began ringing.”

Tears prick my eyes.

You stupid bitch, I told you not to cry!

“I’m angry because I haven’t had lunch with you for the past month and a half. I’m angry that you don’t even bother calling to tell me you won’t be able to make it, you just don’t show up!”

His eyes are sad, and I know that this isn’t helping anything.

I know that I should say ‘forget it’ and turn back to the case, but I can’t.

“I miss you, Spencer. I miss you and I don’t know what I’ve done to make you avoid me.”

“You did-”

His phone starts to ring.

I’m going to throw that thing across the fucking room.

He takes it out of his pocket, and I briefly see her picture before he slides his thumb over decline.

“She does realize you’re still an agent of the BAU, right? And isn’t she a teacher? Shouldn’t she be in school right now?”

He doesn’t answer.

“You didn’t do anything, Y/N, I promise. It’s just-”

His phone rings again.

Fuck this.

“I’m going out for a smoke. Talk to her. She’s obviously not going to stop until you do.”

I grab my bag off the table and walk out into the main space, finding my way out of the building and into the street.

I find a bench not too far away and sit down, digging through my bag and producing my pack of cigarettes and my lighter, placing one between my lips and lighting up.

You’re losing him. He doesn’t even want you as a friend anymore. You’re worthless. Worthless. WORTHLESS.

If I could punch the voice in my head, I would.

It’s kinda ironic, though. 

It sounds like Heather.

I take a deep drag and inhale, keeping the smoke in my lungs for a moment before exhaling.

My mind starts to go fuzzy and before I know it, it’s done.

I don’t have time for another one, so I sigh, getting up and throwing the bud into a nearby trash can.

I walk back through the building and up to the conference room, preparing myself for the next couple of hours, but I hear voices, and I pause.

I peek around the corner of the door frame, and into the room.

Spencer has his back to me, his phone in one hand, marker in the other.

“-best friend, Heather. She’s been my best friend for the past 8 years. Not seeing her is affecting our relationship. Don’t you trust me?”

I hear a sigh come from the phone. He has it on speaker.

“I trust you, okay? It’s her I don’t trust. Look, I like her. I think she’s sweet, but I don’t like the way she looks at you.”

“You still won’t tell me how she supposedly looks at me.” He’s annoyed, his fist wrapping around the marker.

Trouble in paradise?

“She looks at you like she’s in love with you. And I don’t like it. That’s why I don’t want you seeing her anymore. I’m afraid that she’s gonna do something and ruin everything.”

That. Bitch.

“She’s not going to do anything. Don’t you think if she had feelings for me, she would have done something by now? Baby, you have nothing to worry about. She’s my family, like how you’re my family.”

He pauses.

“I love her.”

“But not like you love me right?”

I’m about to beat this gas lighting bitch into the next century.

“Different kind of love.” His voice is quiet, and he’s looking down at the floor, and I didn’t think it was possible for my heart to break anymore than it already has. But I can feel the already broken pieces shatter.

He doesn’t love you like he loves her. He just said so. You’re nothing compared to her.

“Just making sure. We’ll talk more later. The lunch period is almost over. Love you!”

“I love you, too.”

He hangs up the phone, and shoves it back into his pocket, still not aware of my presence as I move to stand fully in the doorway.

“So that’s why you’re avoiding me? Because Heather told you too!?”

The tears pricking my eyes are hot, and rage builds in my stomach.

He turns, surprise slapped across his face.

“Y/N-”

“If Hotch asks you, you’re going to tell him that you didn’t need my help, that you told me I could go help JJ. Clear?”

His mouth opens and closes, and his shoulders slouch, as he nods his head, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“Good. Oh, and Spencer?” 

He looks up at me.

“Don’t forget that you had a life before her, and that just because she’s a part of it now, doesn’t mean she’s the only part.”

With that I turn, walking back out into their bullpen, spotting JJ sitting on a desk, talking to someone on the phone.

The call finishes as I walk up to her.

“He-, what’s wrong? You’re crying.” She stands, placing a hand on my arm. 

“I’ll tell you tonight at the hotel. But Spencer doesn’t need my help, so I thought I could come help you interview the families.”

Please help me.

She nods, understanding. “The family of the first victim is already here. Let’s go.”

We pass by the conference room where Spencer resides, and the door is closed.

We walk by, and the blinds are open, revealing him arguing into his phone.

They’re arguing over you. You destroy things everywhere you go.

I keep walking.

~~~~

Three days later, we’re heading home.

It’s late, and my team is asleep around me, even if it is only for a few hours.

I can’t seem to find sleep so easily.

Instead, I settle for reading the same page of my book, over and over again.

You know. For fun.

However, I am not the only one awake.

Spencer stands and quickly makes his way towards my end of the jet.

He sits next to me, his own book in hand.

He doesn’t speak for a moment, just sitting and staring at me.

“Whatcha reading?”

I close the book over my finger, keeping my spot while showing him the cover so that he can read the title.

Warm Bodies, By Isaac Marion.

My favorite.

“I should have known. It’s your comfort book. You read it when you need a break.”

I flip it back open and continue scanning the page.

“Y/N, please look at me.”

I huff, placing my bookmark in the crook of the spine, and closing it louder than I probably should have.

I look at him, and I almost apologize for my behavior.

He looks like a kicked puppy.

No. He hurt you. He needs to apologize for that.

“I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize what she was doing until it was too late. Please believe me when I say I would never intentionally hurt you.”

It hurts more when you don’t realize it though.

“I told her that she needs to know that you’re my family. And that you’re not going anywhere.”

I can’t help but let my face soften, even though I wish it didn’t. As much as I wish I could stay mad at him, I can’t. Not when the look on his face is so genuine.

“I’m sorry for not calling, for not picking up, for the no-shows. I was a dick to you, and you didn’t deserve it.”

He makes it so hard to hate him.

“She’s actually really upset that she hurt you. She never meant to.”

For some reason, I don’t believe her, but go off, I guess.

He sees the hesitance on my face, so he smiles, and leans his head against my shoulder.

“Let me make it up to you. Lunch, at that Italian place you like? My treat.”

“Are you allowed to do that? Teacher said no.”

I run my fingers over the outline of the cover of my book, outlining the words.

He rolls his eyes. “Ha ha ha. You’re so funny.”

A small smile spreads across my face, as I reopen my book, settling down into my seat.

“I’m getting desert, by the way. Even if I don’t finish my pasta.”

He laughs to himself, leaning back into his seat and opening his own book.

“Anything for you, Y/N. Anything for you.”

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[thewidowsghost]

The War Gone Wrong (Obviously) - Stark! Reader x Steve Rogers

This is written for @rogersrogers334​.

3rd Person POV

Tony and (Y/n) Stark, the father-daughter duo, stand in the shadows as a projection shows Maria, Howard, and a Younger Tony talking.

After the projected scene is over, both Tony and (Y/n) walk out, side by side, to the front of the stage.

"That's how I wished it happened," Tony says softly into the microphone. "Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing, or BARF."

"You really need a better acronym," (Y/n) teases which makes the crowd laugh for a minute or so before the attention turns to the two Avengers. "An extremely costly method of hijacking the hippocampus to . . . clear traumatic memories."

Tony blows out a candle, "Huh." The whole scene around Tony and (Y/n) dissolves. "It doesn't change the fact that my parents never made it to the airport . . . or all the things I did to avoid processing my grief, but . . ." Tony takes off his glasses. "Plus, six hundred eleven million dollars for my little therapeutic experiment? No one in their right mind would've ever funded it.

"Help me out, what's the MIT mission statement?" (Y/n)'s voice echoes through the hall now. "'To generate, disseminate, and preserve knowledge.' And work with others," she adds, "to bring it to bear on the world's great challenges."

"Well, you are the others," Tony picks up (Y/n)'s words - the two having rehearsed this. "And, quiet as it's kept . . . the challenges facing you are the greatest mankind's ever known."

"Plus," (Y/n) says, amusement lighting in her eyes, her voice taking on a teasing tone, "most of you are broke."

The crowd chuckles again and after a moment, Tony says, "Oh, I'm sorry. Rather, you were. As of this moment . . . every student has been made an equal recipient of the Inaugural September Foundation Grant. As in . . . all of your projects have just been approved and funded."

The crowd of college students breaks out in applause and cheers.

"No strings, no takes . . . just reframe the future!" (Y/n) says over the cheering. "Starting now!"

Above the audience, the teleprompter now reads: Tony: Now I would like to introduce the head of the Foundation, Pepper Potts

Tony stares at the words sadly and then says, "Go break some eggs."

The two exit the stage, side by side.

Ignoring one of the teaches and one of her father's assistants, (Y/n) walks over to the bathroom and changes into a pair of casual clothes for the mission she was supposed to be on.

Approaching her father, (Y/n) says a quick goodbye, and the twenty-four-year-old woman closes her eyes and disappears, arriving in Lagos, Nigeria.

(Y/n), like her mother, was a mutant. (Y/n) had the powers of teleportation, absorption, and the ability to control elements, as well as the ability to shape-shift. 

Glancing around for a moment, (Y/n) pulls on a pair of sunglasses, places her COM set in her ear, and walks over to the Black Widow, who is sitting by herself with a tea in her hands.

"Morning, ma'am," (Y/n) greets Natasha Romanoff, "you mind if I sit here? There are no more open tables."

"Sure, go right ahead," Natasha says, hiding a smile at the sight of her best friend. Natasha and (Y/n) had been friends since Natasha had joined SHIELD, as (Y/n) and their partner, Clint, had recruited her.

A waitress walks over and (Y/n) orders a coffee, listening in on the conversation between Natasha, Wanda, Steve, and Sam going on.

"All right, what do you see?" Steve asks.

"Standard beat cops," Wanda murmurs around her cup of coffee in her hand. "Small station. Quiet street. It's a good target."

"There's an ATM in the south corner, which means . . ." Steve begins but Wanda cuts him off.

"Cameras," Wanda says.

"Nice Wanda," (Y/n) murmurs, and Wanda smiles softly at the approval in the older woman's voice.

"Both cross streets are one way," Steve says into the COMs.

"So, compromised escape routes," Wanda guesses.

"Means our guy doesn't care about being seen, he isn't afraid to make a mess on the way out," (Y/n) says softly.

"She's right," Steve says and (Y/n)'s cheeks dust a slightly darker color. "See that Range Rover halfway up the block?"

"Yeah, the red one?" Wanda asks. "It's cute."

"Looks like my first car," (Y/n) says with a soft laugh.

"Not the point," Natasha says and (Y/n) grins. "The point is, is that it's bulletproof, which means private security, which means more guys, which means more headaches for somebody."

"Probably us," (Y/n) adds. "I should have stayed with Dad.”

Wanda laughs but then says, her voice more serious, “You know I can move things with my mind, right?”

“You know I can set things on fire, or freeze them, or throw them at people?” (Y/n) says. 

“Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature,” Natasha and (Y/n) say in unison. 

“Anybody ever told the two of you that you’re a little paranoid?” Sam asks. 

“Not to my face,” Natasha scoffs, exchanging an amused glance with (Y/n) for a moment. 

“Nor mine, probably cause my Dad could sue anyone for some odd reason, but, you know, whatever,” (Y/n) says. “Anyway, why?”

“Did you hear something?” Natasha asks. 

“Anybody tell you that you two are perfect together?” Sam asks and (Y/n) holds back a fit of laughter and from the expression on Natasha’s face, she was doing the same. 

“Eyes on the target, folks,” Steve says, keeping Sam from saying anything else. “This is the best lead we’ve had on Rumlow in six months. I don’t want to lose him.”

“Oh, that’s why we’re here,” (Y/n) says. “Watch me get deaded by Rumlow if he’s here.”

“Okay Crazy,” Wanda says, holding back a laugh as the sound of Natasha smacking (Y/n)’s arm sounds through the COMs. 

Unknown to everyone but Steve, a garbage truck begins pushing its way through traffic, showing no regard to pedestrians or other vehicles. 

“Sam, see that garbage truck?” Steve asks. “Tag it.”

There is a moment of silence before Sam speaks, “That truck is loaded for max weight. And the driver’s armed.”

“It’s a battering ram,” Natasha realizes and (Y/n) sets a twenty on the table and stands up, heading for the alleyway where she’d teleported from MIT. 

(Y/n) teleports on top of the truck then just outside the Institute for Infectious Diseases Ward. 

Soldiers in black armor emerge from two trucks that had driven through the entrance to the Institution. 

“Go now!” Steve orders, readying his shield. 

“What?” Wanda asks. 

“He’s not hitting the police,” Steve says. 

“Yeah, no kidding,” (Y/n) grumbles as one of the soldiers shoots where she’d been standing a few moments before, while some of the soldiers shoot gas bombs into the building above (Y/n). 

Her fists lighting on fire, (Y/n) knocks out a few of the soldiers before Steve shows up.

“Nice of you to show up,” (Y/n) says with a warm smile towards the super-soldier. 

Steve smiles and says into the COMs, “Body armor, AR-15s. We make seven hostiles.”

Sam flies in and up to a rooftop, spinning and using his wings to block the gunfire, taking out two soldiers in the process. 

“I make that five,” Sam says. 

Wanda arrives and flies over a rooftop into the courtyard, blocking bullets with her powers. She takes control of a soldier and lifts him upwards. “Sam,” she calls, and the Falcon flies down and catches the soldier with one of his wings. 

“Four,” Sam says with a grin.

One of Sam’s drones flies by, scanning the inside of the building. “Rumlow’s on the third floor.”

“Aye Wanda,” (Y/n) says, running towards the girl. “Just like we practiced.”

“What about the gas?” comes Wanda’s questioning voice, her Sokovian accent thick at the moment. 

“Get it out,” (Y/n) says. 

Wanda uses her powers to lift (Y/n) up and through a window. 

(Y/n) grabs one of the soldiers and pulls off their gas mask. 

(Y/n) advances, taking out about five solders before making her way to the Bio-Hazard area. 

“Rumlow has a biological weapon,” (Y/n) warns. 

“I’m on it,” Natasha tells her, riding in on a motorcycle. She turns it on its side and skids it towards a soldier, taking out a few more in hand-to-hand combat. Rumlow comes up behind her, dragging her onto an armored vehicle. Natasha tries to electrocute Rumlow but it doesn’t work. 

“I don’t work like that no more,” Rumlow taunts. He throws her through a roof hatch into an armored vehicle, drops in a grenade, and shuts the hatch. “Fire in the hole!”

“Get out of there Nat!” (Y/n) calls, moving to stand on a balcony. 

Rumlow catches sight of her and sends a bomb her way and (Y/n) gets blasted back into a wall. 

Scrambling her feet, (Y/n) presses a hand to her bleeding forehead and breaks into a run as another blast shakes the building behind her. 

Another blast sends (Y/n) through a window and she falls over the side of the balcony, onto a metal container, and down onto the concrete below. 

(Y/n) groans, rolling over and staggering to her feet, her arm pressed tightly to her ribs, guessing some had broken. “Oh man, those are broken,” (Y/n) grumbles and Wanda rushes over, throwing an arm around (Y/n)’s shoulders, taking some of her weight. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Wanda says. 

Steve, Sam, and Natasha rush after Rumlow and the soldiers, Steve finally pinning Rumlow to the ground. 

“Something’s about to happen,” (Y/n) says, her eyes widening, hearing the conversation between Steve and Rumlow over the COMs. Then she turns to Wanda, “You gotta trust me? All right?” Wanda nods and (Y/n) teleports them to where Steve and Rumlow are. 

(Y/n) wraps her arms around Rumlow and nods to Wanda, who shoots the two into the air, not a moment too soon it seemed, because Rumlow explodes, (Y/n) screaming as she absorbs half the blast. The remaining energy hits the side of the building, shattering glass windows and setting the building on fire. 

(Y/n) drops back towards the ground, her eyes blurring slightly and Wanda shoots her arms up, catching (Y/n) and lightly lowering her to the ground before the Scarlet Witch looks up at the building in flames and covers her mouth with her hand. 

“Oh my . . .” Steve’s bright blue eyes, wide with shock, his mouth hanging open murmurs, “Sam . . . we need . . . Fire and Rescue . . . and a MedEvac team . . . on the south side of the building. We gotta get up there.”

Wanda glances down at (Y/n), whose forehead was bleeding, her right arm resting on her stomach, and the side of her face slightly burned, the woman’s (E/c) eyes fluttering shut. 

Natasha and Sam show up a few moments later and Natasha stares wide-eyed at her best friend’s unconscious body resting in Wanda’s lap. 

Natasha rushes over and helps some of the medical workers lift (Y/n)’s body onto a stretcher. 

The next day finds Natasha and Steve fussing over (Y/n) as she sits up in the Med Bay in the Avengers’ Compound. 

“I love all of you, but stop fussing over me,” (Y/n) says, getting to her feet and shrugging off Natasha’s hand on her shoulder. “I’m injured, not dead.”

Steve smiles at the thought, the same words as he had said to Natasha and (Y/n) a few years back when they were on the run from SHIELD, well, HYDRA. 

“Steve,” (Y/n) stops the super-soldier as she, Steve, and Natasha walk out of the Med Bay together. “Would you check up on Wanda? She probably feels responsible for what happened.”

Natasha turns to (Y/n) as Steve walks away, towards Wanda’s room, (Y/n) guesses. “Don’t you ever do anything that stupid ever again,” Natasha scolds her friend. “You did it in DC and Sokovia before now. You’re going to kill yourself by the time you die.”

“That’s incredibly strange wording there Miss Romanoff,” (Y/n) says with a smile. 

Natasha goes to say something but Sam walks up and leads Natasha down to the briefing room. 

A few minutes later, after (Y/n) had changed into a pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt, she makes her way down to the briefing room, leaning on the doorway as she listens to Thunderbolt Ross, the Secretary of State, speak. 

“Five years ago,” Ross begins. “I had a heart attack. I dropped right in the middle of my back-swing. Turned out it was the best round of my life, because after 13 hours of surgery and a triple bypass . . . I found something 40 years in the Army had never taught me: Perspective. The world owes the Avengers an un-payable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives . . . but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some . . . who would prefer the word ‘vigilantes’.”

“And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?” asks Natasha in a falsely respectful voice. 

“How about "dangerous"? What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?“ Ross says and (Y/n) steps forward into the room from the shadows. 

“You don’t think we’re unconcerned about what we leave behind, Secretary?” (Y/n) says in a soft voice, which still carries through the silent room. “I think the Avengers, above all others, know what it’s like to lose the ones they care about and the wreckage left behind.”

Steve and Natasha look over to see (Y/n) standing behind Sam’s chair at the back of the room. 

“But,” (Y/n) smiles with a look of disgust in her eyes, “if you must, please, continue.”

“Thank you, Miss Stark,” Ross says, rolling his eyes and pressing a button on a remote in his hands. 

News footage from past Avengers and SHIELD matters flash on the screen as he speaks, “New York.” A Chitauri leviathan. Terrified citizens. A soldier firing a gun. The Hulk smashing into buildings, sending dust clouds engulfing the camera.

Rhodey’s expression turns regretful and he glances over his shoulder at Natasha. 

“Washington DC,” Ross continues. Three Insight helecarriers, firing on each other. The destroyed Triskelion. A helicarrier crashes into the Potomac throwing up a massive wave while in the background, (Y/n)’s body hits the river below. 

Sam is the one who looks down this time, and Steve spares a glance at (Y/n), whose expression had hardened into one of carefully controlled anger. 

“Sokovia,” Ross says, pressing yet another button on his controller. Terrified citizens running. The city rising. A building falling over. Wanda and Tony continue to look at the screen, Wanda swallowing thickly at the sight of her former home behind destroyed. 

“Lagos,” The burning building. Paramedics moving bodies. A dead girl. An unconscious (Y/n) being lifted into an ambulance.

Wanda looks particularly affected by the footage from Lagos and (Y/n) steps forward to place a comforting hand on the young woman’s shoulder. Steve also sees how discomforted Wanda seems and intervenes. 

“Okay, that’s enough.”

Ross nods to an aide and the images disappear. 

“For the past four years, you’ve operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That’s an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution.” Ross receives a thick book from one of his aides and slides it across the table to Wanda. She picks it up and then slides it to Rhodey. 

“The Sokovia Accords,” Ross tells the Avengers. “Approved by a hundred and seventeen countries . . . it states that the Avengers should no longer be a private organization. Instead, they’ll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary. You say that it's enough to be a man. But there are gods. And the rest of us, what are we? They’re giants, we’re what they step on.”

The conversation has (Y/n) remembering what Phil Coulson had told Mike Peterson before he had become DeathLok. 

“The good ones, the real deal,” comes (Y/n)’s voice and everyone turns to look at her once again. “They’re, we’re, not heroes because of what we have that you don’t. It’s what we do with it that matters.”

Steve nods and sends (Y/n) an admiring glance. “The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place. I feel we’ve done that,” Steve adds to (Y/n)’s words.

“Tell me, Captain, Miss Stark, do you two know where Thor and Banner are right now?” Ross asks, meeting Steve’s eyes. 

“I have a guess,” (Y/n) says, meeting Natasha’s green gaze. “Asgard.”

Ross ignores (Y/n) and says, “If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes . . . you can bet there'd be consequences. Compromise. Reassurance. That's how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground.”

“So, there are contingencies,” Rhodey guesses. 

“Three days from now, the UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords.”

Steve glances at Tony as Ross heads for the door. 

“Talk it over,” Ross finally says. 

“And if we come to a decision you don’t like?” Natasha asks. 

“Then you retire,” Ross says and Natasha stifles a smile. 

A few minutes later, (Y/n) finds herself sitting at the counter in the briefing room, her fingers pressed to her temples as Sam and Rhodey argue behind her. 

“I have an equation,” Vision interrupts. 

“Oh, this will clear it up,” Sam says, turning to listen to Vision.

“In the eight years since Mr. Stark and Miss Stark announced themselves as IronMan and Phoenix respectively, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially.”

“Are you saying it’s our fault?” Steve asks his eyes remaining on (Y/n), whose fingers had begun tapping lightly on the countertop in front of her.  

“I’m saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict . . . breeds catastrophe. Oversight . . . oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.”

“Boom,” Rhodey says. 

(Y/n) glances over at her father, who was lying on one of the couches, one hand on his face. 

When Natasha speaks, he removes his hand to look at her. “Tony,” Natasha prompts. “You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal.”

“It’s because he’s already made up his mind,” Steve guesses.

“Boy, you know me so well,” Tony gets up, wincing, rubbing the back of his head. “Actually, I’m nursing an electromagnetic headache.”

He walks over towards the kitchen and grabs a mug. “That’s what’s going on, Cap. It’s just pain. It’s discomfort. Who’s putting coffee grounds in the disposal” Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?” 

Despite the negative thoughts running through her head, (Y/n) cracks a smile at her father’s question.

Tony sets his phone in a basket and taps it. The phone projects an image of a smiling young ham. Tony looks down, then back up, and pretends to notice the picture for the first time. “Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where Sokovia.”

(Y/n) swallows thickly and glancing at her teammates, she can tell that the others are also affected by this. 

“He wanted to make a difference, I suppose,” Tony says softly. “I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.” Tony takes a pill with some coffee, then faces the others. “There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys.”

“Well said,” comes (Y/n)’s quiet voice, though everyone in the room heard it. 

“Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don’t give up,” Steve says. 

“Who said we’re giving up?” Tony asks. 

“We are if we're not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blames.” 

“I’m sorry,” (Y/n) says softly and the others turn to her once again. “Steve,” she pauses for a moment. “That’s dangerously arrogant,” there is an apologetic undertone to her words and now Rhodey speaks. 

“This is the United Nations we’re talking about. It’s not the World Security Council, it’s not SHIELD, it’s not HYDRA.”

“No, but it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas change,” Steve argues. 

“That’s good,” Tony presses. “That’s why I’m here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.”

“Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don't think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don't let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.”

“If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s the fact. That won’t be pretty,” Tony says, shooting an apologetic glance towards his daughter. 

“You’re saying they’ll come for me,” Wanda’s gaze flickers to the others. 

“Us,” (Y/n) corrects, meeting Wanda’s fearful green gaze. 

“We would protect you,” Vision says. 

“Maybe Tony’s right,” Natasha says, shooting a glance at (Y/n), then Wanda.

Tony looks at the former assassin, surprised. 

“If we have one had on the wheel, we can steer. If we take it off -” Sam interupts Natasha. 

“Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kick her ass a few years ago?” Sam asks as (Y/n) rises from her place slumped against the countertop and walks over to sit by her friend. 

Natasha looks over at (Y/n) and sends her a comforting smile. 

“I’m just . . .” Natasha begins but (Y/n) continues for her. 

“She’s reading the terrain,” (Y/n) explains. “We have made . . . some -”

“Very public mistakes. We need to win everyone’s trust back,” Natasha finishes. 

“Focus up,” Tony says, still staring at Natasha in disbelief. “I’m sorry, did I mishear you or did you agree with me?”

(Y/n) cracks another smile as Natasha replies, “Oh, I want to take it back now.”

“No, no, no,” Tony argues. “You can't retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay, case closed--I win.“

Steve’s phone buzzes and he pulls it out to check it. (Y/n) glances over at Steve, a question in her eyes. 

(Y/n) knew that Steve had feelings for her - and (Y/n) did as well - and judging by the look on Steve’s face, she knew it had to be about Peggy. (Y/n) knew that, deep down, Steve still loved Peggy. 

“I have to go,” Steve says abruptly, dropping the Accords onto the coffee table and going downstairs. 

The others in the room glance at each other for a moment before Wanda stands up from her place next to Vision and (Y/n) stands up, following her. 

(Y/n) jogs after Wanda, catching up with the young brunette. “Wanda,” (Y/n) places a hand on her shoulder, but the girl continues to walk. “Wanda, stop.”

“What?” Wanda snaps, turning on (Y/n). 

“What are you going to do?” (Y/n) asks softly, her hand remaining on Wanda’s shoulder. 

“What are you going to do?” Wanda asks in return. 

“I’m going to sign,” (Y/n) says softly. “I think you should too. Like my dad said, if we don’t do this now, it’s going to happen later.”

(Y/n) gives Wanda’s shoulder a comforting squeeze before she turns, walking away. 

A few days later, (Y/n) and Natasha walk into the cathedral where Steve had just been mourning the death of Peggy Carter. 

(Y/n) smiles nervously at Steve as he speaks, “When I came out of the ice, I thought everyone I had known was gone. Then I found out that she was alive. I was just lucky to have her.”

“She had you back, too,” Natasha says, shooting (Y/n) - who was standing at her shoulder - a glance. 

“Who else signed?” Steve asks. 

“Tony. Rhodey. Vision.” (Y/n) answers. 

“Clint?” Steve asks. 

“Say’s he’s retired,” Natasha says, and (Y/n) and the redhead share an amused smile. 

“Wanda?”

“TBD,” Natasha answers. 

“We’re, well, off to Vienna for the signing of the Accords,” (Y/n) says. “There’s plenty of room on the jet,” she offers, hoping with all her heart that Steve would come. 

Steve sighs and bows his head and (Y/n)’s composer seems to fall. 

“Just because it’s the path of least resistance doesn’t mean it’s the wrong path. Staying together is more important than how we stay together,” Natasha tells Steve.

(Y/n) had the feeling that her best friend was trying to convince herself as well. 

“What are we giving up to do it?” Steve asks, avoiding meeting (Y/n)’s eyes.

Natasha sighs and Steve shakes his head, unconvinced. 

“I’m sorry, Nat, (Y/n),” Steve says softly. “I can’t sign it.”

“We know,” (Y/n) says softly. 

"Then what are you doing here?" Steve asks. 

"I didn't want you to be alone," (Y/n) says, stepping forward to wrap the super soldier in a hug. 

(Y/n) pulls back after a moment, holding back tears as she says, "Good luck, Steve." 

Natasha puts a comforting hand on (Y/n)'s arm and the two walk out of the cathedral. 

A few hours later, (Y/n) and Natasha are standing in the UN building signing papers for the Accords. 

"Excuse me, Miss Romanoff, Miss Stark?" asks a UN staffer. 

"Yes?" Natasha responds.

"We need your signatures," the staffer says. (Y/n) and Natasha sign the papers. 

"I suppose neither of us are used to the spotlight," comes a voice and the two women turn to see Prince T'Challa standing in front of them. "Though, Miss Stark, it seems to follow you everywhere."

"Well, it's not always so flattering," Natasha answers with a smile. 

"You seem to be going alright so far. Considering your last trip to Capitol Hill . . . I wouldn't think you would be particularly comfortable in this company."

"Well, I'm not," Natasha replies. 

"That alone makes me glad you're here, Miss Romanoff," T'Challa continues. 

"Why? You don't approve of all this?" (Y/n) asks. 

"The Accords, yes," T'Challa answers. "The politics, not really. Two people in a room can get more done than a hundred."

"Unless you need to move a piano," comes King T'Chaka's voice. 

"Father."

"Son. Miss Romanoff. Miss Stark," T'Chaka's says in return, nodding to his son. 

"King T'Chaka," (Y/n) says, nodding respectfully to the king. "Please let us apologize for what happened in Nigeria."

"Thank you. Thank you for agreeing to all this. I'm sad to hear that Captain Rogers will not be joining us today."

(Y/n) and Natasha share a glance. "Us as well," (Y/n) answers.

"If it is okay, I would like to have a word with Miss Stark," T'Challa says and (Y/n) nods. 

Smiling at Natasha, then nodding to the king, (Y/n) follows T'Challa to the window. 

Before T'Challa can say anything, T'Chaka begins to speak. "When stolen Wakandan vibranium was used to make a terrible weapon, we in Wakanda were forced to question our legacy. Those men and women killed in Nigeria were part of a goodwill mission from a country too long in the shadows. We will not, however, let misfortune drive us back. We will fight to improve the world we wish to join. I am grateful to the Avengers for supporting this initiative." (Y/n) spots something outside and she nudges T'Challa, pointing to a news van outside where several officers were milling around the back. "Wakanda is proud to extend its hand in peace."

"Everybody get down!" (Y/n) and T'Challa yell, sprinting towards where the king was still standing, giving his speech. 

An enormous explosion goes off between the two buildings sending (Y/n) and T'Challa flying back. 

(Y/n) staggers to her feet, her hand wrapped around her bleeding forearm, and watches, horrified as T'Challa finds his father lying on the floor with his eyes closed. The Prince grabs his father's wrist and feels for a pulse, but King T'Chaka lies still. Devastated, T'Challa lies across his father, then lifting him and rocking him. 

Natasha darts forward and pulls her friend down onto the floor and rips off part of her sleeve to wrap around (Y/n)'s arm, (Y/n)'s eyes wide with shock.

The survivors are evacuated from the buildings and fire crews begin to hose them down.

Natasha and (Y/n) sit on the bench beside T'Challa's. 

"I'm very sorry," Natasha says softly. 

T'Challa glances at the two, holding a silver ornate ring which he toys with between his fingers. "In my culture, death is not the end. It's more of a . . . stepping-off point. You reach out with both hands and Bast and Sekhmet, they lead you into the green veldt where . . . you can run forever."

"That sounds very peaceful," Natasha replies, her voice still soft. 

"My father thought so," T'Challa answers, placing the ring on his finger. "But I am not my father."

"T'Challa. Task forces will decide who brings in Barnes."

T'Challa clenches his fists, "Don't bother, Miss Romanoff. I'll kill him myself."

3rd Person POV

Steve - in his uniform - strides through an underpass, then jogs onto a private runway, heading for a grounded chopper. An electro-disabler slams onto the chopper and Steve looks up. 

Above him, Tony and Rhodey descend, landing on the ground. 

"Wow, it's so weird how you run into people at the airport. Don't you think that's weird?" Tony asks, his helmet retracting.

"Definitely weird," Rhodey answers. 

"Hear me out, Tony," Steve says. "That doctor, the psychiatrist, he's behind all of this."

T'Challa, clad in his Black Panther uniform, leaps over a truck. "Captain."

"Your highness."

"Anyway," Tony says, walking behind Rhodey. "Ross gave me thirty-six hours to bring you in. That was twenty-four hours ago. Can you help a brother out?"

"You're after the wrong guy," Steve answers calmly. 

"Your judgment is askew," Tony replies, some of his anger showing now. "Your old war buddy killed innocent people yesterday. 

"And there are five more soldiers just like him. I can't let the doctor find them first, Tony. I can't."

"Steve . . ." It was Natasha's voice now. ". . . you know what's about to happen. Do you want to punch your way out of this one?"

"All right I've run out of patience. Underoos!" Tony calls. 

A figure in blue and red spandex shoots what looks like a web, stealing Steve's shield and binding his hands, landing on a car. 

"Good job, kid," Tony praises. 

"Thanks. Well, I could've stuck the landing a little better. It's just the new suit… Well, it's nothing, Mr. Stark. It's--it's perfect. Thank you," Peter stumbles over his words.

"Yeah, we don't really need to start a conversation."

"Okay. Cap . . . Captain. Big fan, I'm Spider-Man." 

"Yeah, we'll talk about it later. Just . . ."

"Hey, everyone."

" . . . Good job."

"You've been busy," Steve interrupts. 

"And you've been a complete idiot. Dragging in Clint. 'Rescuing' Wanda from a place she doesn't even want to leave, a safe place. I'm trying to keep . . . I'm trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart," Tony finishes. 

“You did that when you signed,” Steve answers calmly. 

“Alright, We're done. You're gonna turn Barnes over, you're gonna come with us. NOW! Because it's us! Or a squad of J-SOC guys . . . with no compunction about being impolite,” Tony scowls at Steve. 

Steve holds up his hands and Clint shoots the web off with an arrow. “Alright, Lang.”

“Hey, guys, something . . .” Peter says. 

He gets kicked back and a full sized man is now standing beside Steve, holding out his shield.

“Oh great,” Tony says. “There’s two in the parking garage. One of them’s Maximoff I’m going to grab her.” Tony flies off in his suit. “Rhodey, you wanna take Cap?

“Got two in the terminal, Wilson and Barnes,” Rhodey answers. 

“Barnes is mine!” T’Challa shouts. 

“Hey, Mr. Stark. What should I do?” Peter asks. 

“What we discussed. Keep your distance. Web ‘em up,” Tony answers.

“Okay, copy that!” Peter uses his webs to swing away. 

Scott Lang - Ant Man - faces Natasha. “Look, I really don’t want to hurt you.”

“I wouldn’t stress about it,” Natasha replies. She kicks him in the groin and he miniaturizes, throwing her head over heels. She zaps him off her wrist and he slams into a nearby truck, leaving a small dent. 

Tony is now hovering over Wanda and Clint. “Wanda, I think you hurt Visions’s feelings.”

“You locked me in my room,” Wanda retorts. 

“Okay first, that’s an exaggeration. Second, (Y/n) wanted me to protect you. Hey, Clint.”

“Hey, man,” Clint answers, readying his bow. 

“Clearly, retirement doesn’t suit you. You get tired of shooting golf?”

“Well, I played eightteen, I shot eightteen. Just can’t seem to miss,” Clint fires an arrow which Tony deflects. 

“First time for everything,” Tony replies. 

“Made you look,” Clint smirks. 

“Suddenly a sar slams past Tony and he looks up as dozens more come crashing down. Wanda moves her glowing red hands until Tony is burried under a pile of cars. 

Tony flies over to Natasha once he unburries himself and helps her up. 

“Is this part of the plan?” the redhead asks. 

“Well, my plan was to go easy on them. You wanna switch it up?” the billionare asks. 

Clint spots the Quinjet. “There’s our ride.”

“Come on!” Steve calls. 

Steve’s team runs towards the Quinjet but they are stopped by a fizzing stream of energy slicking across the runway and they stop. Looking up they see Vision hovering overhead. 

“Captain Rogers,” Vision begins. “I know what you believe what your doing is right. But for the collective good you must surrender now.” As he speaks, the rest of Tony’s team arrives. 

“What’d we do, Cap?” Sam asks. 

“We fight,” Steve answers. 

“This is gonna end well,” Natasha says. 

The two teams stride towards each other with grim determination etched on their faces. 

“They’re not stopping,” Peter says. 

“Neither are we,” Tony replies grimly. 

Steve blocks a punch with his shield from Tony as he lands. Clint fires an arrow at Vision as Rhodey flies after Sam and and Bucky, trading blows with T’Challa.

An explosive arrow hit Tony.

Natasha throws Scott as Peter wings through the air, struggling to evade flying vehicles.

Bucky lands punches on T’Challa. 

Clint and Natasha battle with batons and eventually, Clint pins her down with his bow. 

“We’re still friends, right?” Natasha asks. 

“Depends on how hard you hit me,” Clint answers.

Natasha spins the archer with her legs and jumps to her feet. As she’s about to kick his head, her foot stops and glows bright red. With a wave of her hand, Wanda throws Natasha back. “You were pulling your punches. 

As Natasha’s thrown back, someone catches her before she can hit the ground. 

“Nice to see you,” the figure says with a ghost of a smile as she sets the redhead back on her feet. 

“(Y/n)! What are you doing here?” the redhead asks. 

“I’m making sure nobody dies today!” (Y/n) yells over her shoulder, running to where Steve was talking to Peter. 

“Look kid,” Steve says as (Y/n) comes up behind him. “There’s a lot here that you don’t understand. 

“Mr. Stark said you’d say that,” Peter replies. “Wow.” He fires webs which stick to Steve’s leg and shield. He pulls and Steve slides towards him. Peter kicks him backwards and then rolls clear. “He also said to go for you legs.” As Steve runs to get his shield, Peter webs his hands and pulls. Steve grits his teeth, spins and somersaults, propelling Peter through the air. 

Steve catches one of Peter’s webs and tugs the boy near him, knocking him down with the shield. Peter recovers and pull himself on top of a gangway. “Stark tell you anything else?” Steve asks.

“How about don’t beat up kids?” (Y/n) asks teleporting in between the kid and Steve. 

“Go,” (Y/n) tells the kid, then readies her fists at Steve. 

Growling with frustration, Steve throws his shield at (Y/n) but (Y/n) stops it with a jet of water. 

(Y/n) charges at Steve but is stopped by Bucky, who had launched himself at her and pinned her to the ground. 

Bucky goes to punch his metal fist into her face but (Y/n) teleports away. “What the!” Bucky exclaims. 

Vision had just shot a shining beam of energy at the control tower and it collapses towards the entrance of the hangar. Wanda holds other hands, keeping the tower from collapsing, letting Steve and Bucky run through it. Rhodey descends behind her and fires a sonic disruptor and Wanda holds her head and screams. The tower falls around Steve and Bucky but they make it into the hanger. 

Natasha, who was in the hangar, catches sight of the tower falling on top of another figure. The two had made eye contact before the tower had collapsed on top of her, (E/c) on green. 

“Tony!” Natasha yells, running past, completely ignoring Steve and Bucky, who run past her into the Quinjet. “We’ve got a big problem!”

“Romanoff, what is it?” Tony asks. 

“(Y/n) . . .” the redhead trails off. 

“What happened?” Tony asks frantically.

“The control tower, it collapsed on top of her,” Natasha breathes. “We need somebody who can lift heave things.”

Tony, Rhodey, Wanda, and Clint show up soon and the five dig through the rubble and Natasha heaves one chunk of rock, moving it. 

(Y/n) raises up her arm, her hand trembling and everyone rushes over to move the rest of the rock. Her hand falls, palm facing up, and she exhales, her breath ragged. 

“I hope one of y-you can c-carry me,” (Y/n) stammers. “Cause I think my leg’s b-broken.”

The last slab of rock is removed and everyone looks at each other. A sheet of metal was stuck in her abdomen, and blood was pooling under her. 

“Y-you’re gonna have t-to c-carry me.”

Tony comes out of his suit and takes his daughter���s hand in his own. Natasha moves to take the other. (Y/n)’s eyes close in pain for a moment and then she opens them again. 

“I-I think i-it’s bad,” (Y/n) voice trembles. “Cause I can’t feel it.” 

Her eyes close once more and then she opens them again, looking at her father. 

“D-dad? W-when di-id you get h-here?” (Y/n) stutters and Tony squeezes his dying daughter’s hand. 

“Oh sweetheart, I’ll always be here.” Tony says, a tear falling from his eyes. 

“T-that’s sweet,” (Y/n) slurs. Her head lolls to the side and she sees Natasha and Clint, the archer’s hand placed on his redheaded friend’s shoulder. “Nat. C-clint.” A tear streaks down Natasha’s face. “D-don’t c-cry. I-I’ll be o-okay.”

“Only you could comfort us like this,” Natasha says, tears falling onto her hands. 

(Y/n) looks over at Rhodey, and his helmet retracts. “U-uncle R-rhodey?”

The man nods. 

“W-watch m-my Dad,” she says. “H-he tends to be r-reckless sometimes.”

“I will,” Rhodey promises. 

“Doll, that’s not every nice,” Tony scolds lightly and (Y/n) lets out a soft laugh. 

“Wanda,” (Y/n) says, addressing the youngest. 

Wanda looks up from her feet. 

“Y-you’re so s-smart and t-talented,” (Y/n) tells the young girl. “And d-don’t le-et anyone tell y-you different.”

Wanda chokes down a sob as (Y/n) falls limp against the rocks under her. 

Natasha runs her hands gently through her friend’s hair and (Y/n) jolts conscious once again. 

“N-nat,” (Y/n) stammers. 

“Breathe, just breathe (Y/n/n),” Natasha murmurs. 

“N-nat, t-ell St-teve I’m sorry,” (Y/n) slurs.

Then she falls limp . . . 

She breathes her last breath . . . 

And falls silent, not moving again . . . 

Well, this was, well, this made me cry writing it, so . . .

Word Count: 7,164 words

So yeah, I don’t know if this was what @rogersrogers334​ was looking for, but here it is. 

Anyway, Imma go cry in the safety of my bed now . . .

Love,          Kaitlynn ❤️😍

[pigtownchronicles]

Chapter 1.2 - Depot

Cities change. They breathe, and they grow, and sometimes they die, only for a new city to be built on top of it, crushing everything old underneath. This is what Barry was thinking about, as they walked over to Depot, trying to recall the last time he’d gone out to a club. Trying to remember the last time he’d even been in this part of the city. The neighborhood looked so different. The clubs were different, the people crowding around the doors were different. Younger than he was, certainly. At some point, they moved through some liminal space, into somewhere new. The men around them grew a little seedier, a little hungrier, a little more ragged, and women almost disappeared entirely. Someone brushed between him and Dennis in full leather gear--and Barry had to pause and try and remember the last time he’d seen anyone in that much leather out on a sidewalk. Years ago, if ever. When he turned to snap something at the stranger, he found that the man was looking at him, leering really, and then he was gone into the dark, before he or Dennis could muster a word, and they continued on. 

“What was the last club we even went to?” Barry asked him.

“I don’t know.”

“The Grotto, wasn’t it?” Barry answered himself.

Parker laughed. “The Grotto? That place doesn’t even exist anymore.”

“Really?”

“It was for posers anyway. Couldn’t get a blowjob in a corner without bribing a damn bouncer with an extra one, right babe?” Parker said, and squeezed Samuel’s ass, getting a peck on the cheek in return.

The Grotto. Barry had liked the Grotto. It was gay, but it was safe. It was expensive, but you were paying for the instagram selfies, and the clout. Sure, some nights the number of straight girls there outnumbered the gay guys, but where was the harm in that? They all just wanted a night free of straight guys anyway. Sure, Parker was right--if someone caught you with your pants down, and you weren’t hired to be go-going on stage, then you were gonna get thrown out on your ass. But what did they think this was, the 70’s? All red lit back rooms and saunas and AIDS around every corner? Sure, it was cleaned up now, but they were all better for it. Safer. Maybe it had been for posers, but Barry didn’t see anything wrong with a little glamour. He looked over at Dennis, but his husband was just frowning, obviously annoyed at having his preference for a quiet weekend at home further disrupted. Barry found himself feeling defensive and frustrated, thought about defending their current course, but decided against it. He’d dragged them out tonight because he’d wanted to have fun, damn it. Dennis would enjoy it too, probably. If not, it was his fault for being a bore.

Samuel and Parker stopped halfway down a block, and walking behind they nearly barrelled into the other couple. It took Barry a moment to realize they’d stopped because they’d arrived. Depot was not the usual garish bar looking to advertise itself from halfway down the block. He would have never even known it was a bar if not for the black clad bouncer sitting on a stool next to the solid black door, with just a small neon sign hanging overhead. Samuel popped up the steps and made small talk--he apparently had been here enough to be on a first name basis with the staff. They were all waved in, the bouncer didn’t bother checking any ID. Looking around, Barry tried to pin down what space had been gentrified and hollowed out to make this. An old gas station or auto shop? Warehouse? The ceiling was high enough that it got lost in the dark. The music was loud and deep, thrumming through them and the floor. Samuel and Parker led the way towards the bar to get a round of drinks. They were cheap, surprisingly, for a place that presented itself as so hidden and exclusive, and looking around, most of the men were clad in simple gear--denim and leather might be out of fashion outside, but not in here. He would have called it a bear bar, and there were certainly bears in the bar, but it was mixed enough that he hesitated. It was nearly all men, however. He couldn’t remember a time he’d gone to a gay bar with so few women in it, in fact. He and Dennis got whiskey sodas, turned around and found Samuel and Parker talking to someone they didn’t recognize.

“One drink, and then we’re leaving,” Dennis said. 

“You’re such a bore,” Barry said, and he could feel Dennis get a little stiff, though he couldn’t see it in the dark. He hated being called a bore, mostly because he knew he was. He didn’t wait for Dennis to stutter something back--he’d never been good at reading or shade--and joined Samuel and Parker with the fellow he didn’t know.

“--god you’re here, that fucking gallery was such a fucking drag, give me a bump darling, just something to wake me the fuck up, please, I’m begging you,” Samuel was saying to the man, who passed him a little bag of white powder. Barry drew up short as Samuel went to slip away, and he rolled his eyes, “Calm down, it’s just a little coke, not meth. You want some?”

“No thanks, I’m good tonight.”

“Suit yourself,” Samuel said, and sat down at a table to make himself a line.

The fellow dealing stuck out his hand, and gave him a solid grip. He was taller than Barry, but then, most guys were. Not quite as tall or as built as Parker, but handsome and charming with a smile that made your knees a little weak.

“Welcome to the Depot boys, the name’s Hugh,” he said, and shook Dennis’s hand as well, “Samuel said your new around here. Anything I can get for the two of you, off menu? Something to make you a little more comfortable?”

Barry hesitated, and Dennis spoke for them, firmly refusing and closing off the possibility entirely. Barry felt himself get a little defensive, both mad that he hadn’t refused faster and confidently, and mad that he couldn’t have a little fun now that Dennis had put his foot down. He’d done his share of shit on the circuit, but while Dennis could tolerate the extramarital sex provided they were both PrEPed to the gills, the drugs he couldn’t abide, and were strictly “don’t ask, don’t tell”. 

Before anything else could be said, Samuel was back up, well bumped, and pulled Barry away. “Come on! Let’s go dance. I want to see how much worse you’ve gotten at it.”

Looking back, he saw Parker pull Hugh away, asking about something, leaving Dennis standing all alone by the table. He tried to wave him to follow, and was mostly certain he saw him wave, but wandered off in another direction. Fine, if he wanted to mope, let him. There were stairs that dropped down to the dance floor, which despite being relatively early in the evening, was already teeming with bodies in various states of undress. It smelled of sweat and alcohol, but the night hadn’t advanced enough for the scent of vomit to mix in. The music was louder but still deep. It unsettled something in Barry’s guts, and though he hadn’t danced in years, he found himself doing his best. Maybe he should have taken some coke, he always danced better with a little coke, or at least cared less. The energy managed to infect him anyway. He was dancing with Samuel at first, and then he was dancing with someone else, a stranger, and another stranger, and then he wasn’t dancing with anyone, he was dancing with everyone. Perhaps it slid into him then. Perhaps it was later. Perhaps it had been in all of them, all along. 

Cities change, but what they don’t tell you, is that it’s not the cities changing, not really. It’s the people who live there. Sometimes on purpose, but not always. As Barry felt himself join the teeming mass of bodies around him, kissing and touching and groping along with them all, losing jacket and then shirt in the throng, he felt something fleeting that he’d missed. Something he hadn’t even really known he was missing. But that small touch, he could feel it, sliding into him, wanting to pull him, warp him, and he found himself terrified, for a moment. But it was just for a night, he told himself. Just a night.

***

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[sunfloweradore]

i’m leaving this blog

hi! this post is a bit long but at the end you’ll find prompts and requests that you are free to use if you’re a writing blog :).

hi there!! if you’re reading this, i hope you’re doing well and staying safe. i just wanted to say that i’m leaving this blog and i’m not sure if i’ll ever come back. the years i’ve spent being a harrie have been great and it’s been a crazy amount of time! pretty much since the x factor! however, for a long time it’s also felt like i’ve been forcing myself to be a fan of harry’s. i’ve put so much energy into being a fan of his that it hasn’t been fun for me in a while and neither has writing fanfiction, which is what this blog is mainly for. it’s felt very difficult to sit down and write a fantasy about somebody who i might not even like anymore and in hindsight it seems a little dumb, but i did stress over writing all the time. this isn’t really about anybody i’ve interacted with on tumblr because you’re all lovely but sometimes it feels as though harries don’t treat him like he’s a human being and instead like he’s a god. me, included. even though i know we joke about harry being the only man we’d let degrade us or destroy our lives or whatever, he is still a person at the end of the day! it took me a very long time to realize that and thinking of him as otherworldly or completely perfect was my way of thinking for a while and i think it was pretty damaging. the fact that so many people would literally die for him is sad because unfortunately, none of us are going to be on his “level”, so to speak. we don’t know him personally and chances are we aren’t ever going to. ahhhh please don’t be mad at me for saying this, it’s just something i’ve realized i need to change about myself and i think it’s something we should all consider about everyone we are fans of. 

anyway, the time and energy i’ve spent on something so ridiculous is exponential and i really feel like it’s time to put it in the past. i’m dedicating this year to self-growth and part of that is learning how to be my own person. feeling like i have to be interested in something or someone in order to be normal has been a common theme in my life and harry has been that someone for as long as i can remember. this isn’t his fault of course but i’m getting older and i don’t want to think of this time in my life as the era that i was obsessed with harry styles. instead, i want to form memories and real life experiences instead of using fanfiction as a way to cope with all of the things that i can’t handle in my life. it worked for a while but at this point i’ve been reading it and writing it for so long that it feels like i’m living inside my head, like i’ve become dependent on it (obviously this is very bad lolol). so, long story short, i will be leaving this blog because it just isn’t good for me anymore. thank you to everyone who has requested things for me to write and anyone who has interacted with my writing. sorry i couldn’t get through them :(. i’d also like to thank everyone i met through this blog because you’re all such amazing people and you deserve the world. i will leave my writing up but the sentiment still applies- i’ve worked very hard on everything i’ve written so please don’t repost any of it without crediting me, thank you.

below are requests i couldn’t get to and prompts(?)/works that i never got to finish. feel free to use them if you want and tag me in them bc i’d love to see how you write them :)

1. paperboy harry!

i think the direction i wanted this to go in was kind of like a 40′s au? or just a long long time ago. not sure why i had this started seeing as i already have harry as a paperboy in a story of mine but go off ig

2. vampire harry!

i had a specific plot i wanted where harry was in a car wreck because of a vampire who ended up biting him in like an alleyway. reader saves him and is a vampire herself! she nurses him back to health n teaches him how to be a vamp with various shenanigans along the way

3. hospital au?

this one i’m not too sure about but if you’ve seen the red band society you’d sort of know the direction i was going with this. there’s kind of an in-between for people in the hospital who are fighting death or going into surgery and in that in-between is a boy who has been in a coma for a long time. i pictured this as being angsty and for harry to be the boy who guides people in certain directions but he ends up falling for the reader while she’s there

4. ghost au!

self explanatory but i pictured harry as the ghost who kind of just wants a friend lol

5. tea au?

this would probably be pretty short, i just thought it was cute! reader has different kinds of tea all the time and it’s a surprise each time he kisses her 

6. strawberry farm au?

reader has a strawberry farm LMAO maybe harry buys them from her or it’s another vampire au, who knows!

7. threesome

most likely has been done b4 but a threesome w 2 guys and the reader where the guy is inside harry while he is inside the reader

8. chocolate by the 1975

a fic based on that song! it would probably be from harry’s pov 

9. space au?

hmm i think i probably saw something that inspired this but all it says is “harry sends letters to space” so i’m assuming it’s an au where he just decided to send letters to space out of boredom or something and mayhaps alien reader finds one?

10. assassin au!

harry is an assassin and in my draft it’s super vague? and almost seems like he’s stalking the reader? it could go in any direction really but i’m assuming the reader is dating him and doesn’t know he’s an assassin

11. chapstick

very similar to the tea one! just w the reader wearing diff chapsticks all the time

12. shower

this is inspired by something i read on wattpad a long time ago and i’ve tried finding it but i think it might’ve been deleted. the reader flicks da bean all the time in the shower and is really loud about it, harry is distracted and confronts her

13. dang ANOTHER threesome

but this time harry is on a date with a girl and they’re at a bar- the girl is looking around, sees the reader and thinks she’s gorg and they end up having a threesome

14. photography au!

harry is a photographer who somehow ends up taking pictures of the reader. in my draft the reader asks him to delete the ones that are ugly but he keeps them all hehe

15. scrapbook au

similar to the last one, harry takes pictures of the reader a lot but it’s not bc he’s a photographer, he just thinks she’s pretty n wants to scrapbook. twist is that he has TWO scrapbooks- one of innocent pics and one that’s lustier (consensual ofc)

16. habits of my heart by jaymes young

self explanatory, angsty

17. roommate au?

this is for some reason also an assassin au? but they’re roommates and reader doesn’t know what he does. they’re bffs, mutual pining

18. don’t forget about me by clove

wow another song fic, big surprise

19. puppyy

harry gets a puppy who hates him :( but the puppy loves the reader!

20. mall au

lol this one is kind of dumb idk why i thought of it but harry is one of those kiosk people at the mall who sells perfume! dunno!

21. condoms

reader works at gas station, harry buys huge condoms

22. poetry

either person reads erotic poetry while touching the other

23. magic au

one of them makes a love potion, kind of dark? like making the other fall in love with them idk it could be an accident though

24. private chef

the reader is a private chef! that’s all i’ve got!

25. message board

this is inspired by..... the sims lmaooo you can pin messages to the message board in your apartment building and i thought it’d be cute if the reader and harry lived in the same building and he leaves notes on the board and she doesn’t know they’re for her! she always thinks they’re cute though

26. raisin theory

inspired by new girl! specifically a comment i saw in like a compilation? video of new girl on yt

i thought it’d be cute for harry to be that person

[trillian-anders]

boeuf bourguignon

pairing: chef!bucky x plus!reader

warnings: fluff, domesticity, like two minutes of angst

word count: 2470

description: chef!au; you and bucky move in together

just a taste masterlist

“What’s the first thing we should make?” You asked, curled around Bucky on the mattress on the floor. The decision to move in together was easy after spending so much time together and missing each other in passing because one was too tired to go to the other’s apartment. And it’s economical, you both figure. He hummed, the vibrations coming through his chest, fingers tracing patterns on your bare back. 

“What’s something you’ve always wanted to eat?” He asked, dozy and almost asleep. Your memory flits back to last week when you’d watched Julie & Julia while packing. And with half closed lids you mumble back,

“Boeuf Bourguignon.” He lets out a sound that almost seemed like a laugh, too tired to recognize, 

“Okay baby.”

It was a cute little brownstone smack in the middle of his restaurant and Stark Tower, a compromise that had to be reached over many small arguments, too old, too new. Too far. Have you seen the neighborhood? Sam even input on a couple apartment complexes that would be good for the food truck. But it was settled that Bucky didn’t want the restaurant that close to him. 

You ate pizza in between fixing small cosmetic cracks in the wall and painting. Chinese while you arranged the furniture the way you wanted. And you enjoyed curry from the Indian place you loved that just so happened to be down the street from where you’d moved while unpacking the dishes and putting clothes away. 

“What do you think?” He asks, you’d left the kitchen up to him, the layout and how he wanted it organized. The copper pans were a brilliant contrast for your very white kitchen that had been partially the selling point for you. The gas stove top and double oven was the selling point for him. A knife rack on the wall, hanging pots and pans, and a double door refrigerator. It was the compromise for the cracked walls and the floors you’ll need to get redone soon, with some new varnish and spackle you figure you could get a couple more years out of them. 

You smile at him, he looked proud, and leaned against the door frame, “It looks really good.” He met you in the doorway, and placed his hands on the door jam, leaning in to kiss you. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

Steve was finally free and coming back to New York so they were moving the opening date for the restaurant to the week that he would be there. Which means it was time to put some vacation days in. 

A knock on your office door, Tony Stark himself. A smile on his face, “What is this I hear about you needing a week off?” 

“Tony I literally just sent the email five minutes ago.” He shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him with his foot. 

“I was already on my way down.” He examines the picture on your desk, a photo taken of you and Bucky. The food truck artfully posed in front of the restaurant, the sign had just been put up, your face was buried in his neck and he was laughing at some dirty joke Sam had just said. “Just wondering when you’re going to be inviting me over for dinner now that you’ve settled into your new place.” You sigh and lean back in your chair, he was giving you a knowing smirk. Natasha. 

“Well we are having a little dinner party to celebrate the opening of the restaurant,” You cross your arms as his smirk widens, “Would you like to join us?” 

“Oh, I never thought you’d ask, I’ll be there at 7? I’ll bring drinks.” And just like that he’d left, seconds later an email in reply approving your time off request. 

Bucky wasn’t happy.

“You invited Tony Stark?” Shoulders rolling, kneading dough on the bar top. 

“Nat mentioned it to him,” You defended, “How could I tell my boss that he’s not allowed to come?” He gave you a look,

“This guy runs you all hours of the day,” dough slammed and rolled, dusted with flour and kneaded again, “He calls you all hours of the day.” Dough cutter, cutting the bread dough that would soon be dinner rolls, into eighths. “And the one time you actually ask to have time off, he wants to be involved in some way?” 

“You love Howard Stark.” You roll your eyes and steal a strawberry out of the small container that he was marinating them in. Soaking in Grand Mariner. “He’s basically the same person.” 

“He’s not,” Bucky shakes his head, “Howard Stark was a revolutionary inventor, Tony Stark buys properties and gentrified neighborhoods.” 

“He’s putting in rent controlled housing for low income households.” Bucky sighs and leans back. 

“Partially,” He says, “I know that Pepper Potts is the one who organizes his charitable giving and covers for him.”

“You’re literally grasping for straws here,” You scoff, “We’re working on a way to get rid of fossil fuels all together and you’re upset that he’s only signing the checks, it’s still his money.” Bucky glares at you, sighing heavily. “He pays me a lot of money to do the job that I do, and just because you think I should be doing something else doesn’t mean what I’m doing right now is bad.” 

It was no secret to you that Bucky wanted you to take the leap on trying to get your book published. But this job was what paid your bills currently. You’ve read articles about people getting on the best seller lists having only made 12k on their book, and while you’d hope you would have a best seller, 12k isn’t going to support you. 

“I just want you to do something you love.” Which was easy for him to say because he was doing something he loved. He loved cooking, for you and for others. He loved making people happy, those cherish-able moments of making something for someone you love, that tradition. He loved it.

“Okay,” You step behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning your head on his back, “This week I’ll print a bunch of copies and I’ll mail them off to publishers.” 

“I don’t want you to do it because it’s something I want you to do.” He sighs, “I want you to do it because it’s something you want to do.” 

“I do want to.” Mumbled into his back, he smelled so good, having just taken a shower before working on the proved dough. “I’ll do it this week.” A flower dusted hand brought one of yours up to his lips. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

Steve was charming, but shy. Very serious. An american flag pinned to the lapel of his suit jacket that had been quickly discarded when Sam and Bucky gave him shit for wearing a full suit to dinner. The pair of them in a button down and slacks. Wanda and Natasha were also in attendance, with Tony showing up at 7:30 with four bottles of wine and a full bottle of Macallan. 

You’d watched Bucky make it. Boeuf Bourguignon. You felt guilt in the fact that it takes five hours to make, but he said, “That’s what you want,” A kiss to your forehead, “That’s what I’m gonna make.”

Thick bacon cut into cubes and browned in a pan, a couple pieces plucked and tasted, just to make sure they were good with only a minor scolding from your boyfriend. Patted dry beef browned in a pan with olive oil and left over bacon grease. Onion and carrot softened in the same pan, fat poured off and the whole thing was thrown into the dutch oven, sprinkled with salt and pepper, and oddly enough a little flour. 

It cooked for four minutes, was mixed and cooked for another four minutes. Then it was covered in beef stock and Bordeaux. 

“You’re so handsome.” You sigh, watching him place the dish back in the oven after simmering it on the stove. He leans over the kitchen island, dish towel over his shoulder, a kiss to your cheek and then lips. 

“You’re very beautiful,” A softer kiss, “But I need you to get out of the kitchen.”

You were in the way, you knew that. But faked upset as you left the room to finally get ready, ass being met with a whip from the dish towel on your way out. 

Wine was poured as Bucky served the first course, salad, bruschetta, roasted artichokes, and bacon wrapped dates you’d have to convince him to make you again, very soon. 

“I hope you’re treating my girl right, Barnes.” Tony joked, the conversation having steered from Steve’s job, something he couldn’t really talk about, to the new house. You could see Bucky’s jaw clench from across the table, but he sipped the gifted wine and replied, 

“My girl gets treated very well at home,” placing the glass on the table, “Can’t say the same about work.” 

“Who’s ready for our mains?” You interrupt. 

“I think that’s a good idea.” Natasha smiled next to you, placing her fork down. You shot her a small glare, and she sipped her wine with a smug grin. She was never satisfied with things going smooth, always craving a little chaos. 

The boeuf bourguignon was incredible. The meat tender and juicy, the mushrooms and sauce robust. With the first bite you were whining and looking across the table at Bucky who was smiling. “This is incredible.” 

“It really is.” Sam agrees. A silent table is a sign of good food, conversation not starting until plates almost cleared, Wanda starting with,

“So the restaurant opens Friday night, which gives us all Friday morning to make sure we are fully prepped.” They’d set the hours to only open for dinner, if the restaurant does well they figure they can change the hours to be open for lunch as well, but they were working on the conservative side. “Y/N and I will be helping out at the host stand.” 

“I can help in the back if you want.” Steve offered. Sam laughed, 

“Doing what? Dishes.” A glare as a laugh sounded at the table. 

“I could stir a pot or something.” He laughed. 

“How has advertising been?” Tony asked. Bucky and Sam shrug, 

“We’ve been handing out flyers at the truck for weeks,” Bucky said, “We have a good following so we are hoping that might gain us some ground.”

“The sign has been up for a while too,” Sam agreed, “We’ve had people stop by to ask us when we are opening.” Tony nods, but you know the look on his face, obviously up to something. He winks at you. An exchange that doesn’t go unnoticed by Bucky who then clears his throat, standing from the table you help him clear the dishes, ready for dessert. 

“Does anyone want coffee?” 

…

“We need to get one of those big, industrial dishwashers.” You moan, heels kicked off as you unload the dishwasher after the first load. Bucky scrubbing at the pots and pans in the sink. 

“What was the wink about?” Bucky had been quiet since dinner ended, a tight smile as Tony wished a friendly goodbye. You sipped on Macallan, loading the dishwasher back up with plates while you answered. 

“He’s planning something most likely,” You cringe at food smeared onto your hand by a dirty spoon. 

“Are you sure?” His shoulders tense, pan dropping into the sink with a clang. 

“What is wrong with you?” You ask, shutting the dishwasher and pressing start. He looks over at you, exasperated. 

“He just seemed a little too friendly.” Bucky tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, you sigh, rubbing your forehead.

“You’re joking.” It was a sore subject. Months ago, before you’d moved in together, Bucky told you about Vivian. Pretty Vivian. A scar from a past relationship where Vivian cheated on him, constantly, and he was dumb enough to go back to her every time. 

“She used me for stability,” He shrugged, “Then slept around with everyone else.” He was insecure about it. Which was stunning to you because you couldn’t believe Bucky was insecure about anything. It broke your heart. 

“I’m not joking.” Anger laced his voice. He crossed his arms, leaning back against the sink, “It would make sense, him calling you all the time, late into the night.” Dish towel thrown down next to him, “You staying late at work.” 

“I would never cheat on you Bucky.” A little snip, “I can’t believe you would even think that I would do something like that.” His jaw is tight. 

“I didn’t think Vivian--”

“I’m not Vivian! I would never hurt you Bucky, and if you think I would maybe there’s something wrong here.” It seemed baffling to you, like maybe you were the one who was supposed to be afraid of Bucky cheating but it was the other way around. He sighs and scrubs his hands over his face. 

“I’m sorry,” He groans, “I know.” He looks at you, upset and emotional, “I know you wouldn’t, I’m sorry, I was just--” You stepped over to him, placing your hands on his crossed arms. 

“You have to trust me.” You said, “If you don’t trust me--” He leans forward to press his forehead against yours. 

“I know,” He sighs, “I’m sorry.” You lean up and meet his lips. 

“I love you.” His hands come to meet your hips, bunching up your skirt. Your tongue pokes out, tracing his bottom lip, his mouth parting for yours, breathing heavily. 

“I love you too.” Your ass meets the kitchen bench, his hands palming your bare thighs to lift you onto the counter, pans forgotten. “I’m sorry.” He whispers against your lips, moaning as you palm him through his slacks. 

“I forgive you.” 

Tony’s planning, his little sneaky wink, was him sending out a mass email to the entire staff that if they show up at Bucky’s restaurant opening weekend that he’d personally reimburse them for their money spent. Something Bucky half resented, but half appreciated. The restaurant opened busy and stayed busy. ‘An overnight success’ one critic said. 

Wanda helped you man the host stand, directing the girls where to take people, seasoned servers, people who Sam and Bucky had known from their days working in other restaurants helped them open. And as far as chaotic restaurant openings are, it wasn’t half bad. Especially when, sitting in the office after hours going over the numbers for the day there were six beautiful digits staring back at you. 

“So I guess we are opening for lunch.” Bucky mused, pressing a kiss to your neck. 

“I guess so.”

.

.

.

taglist //  @93generation​ @technicallykawaiisoul​  @bookish-shristi​ @saturnki​ @jennmurawski13​ @geeksareunique​ @the-soulofdevil​ @tinmunky​ @gifsbysimplysonia​ @alwaysbenhardysgirl @beck-alicious​

[hiatus-for-forever]

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Starting with my favorite boi. In which the reader in Katsuki's girlfriend and its the first Saturday after moving to the dorms and she goes to see him right after getting home to Japan. (This is from an unpublished wattpad book in my acc)

Quirk: teleportation and telepathy. You can teleport yourself and two other people a few objects (depending on size) at will anywhere within half a kilometer. If you do it to far or too often you can start to feel dizzy. You can talk to people through your mind no matter how far they are as long as you have a connection. The telepathy is a lesser trained quirk, (you can't read minds)

Genre/Warning(s): Cursing, fluff, and somewhat of a lime

Word Count: 1028

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

The plane landed as you quickly grabbed your backpack and walked into the airport. By the word of the law it's illegal to use your quirk out in public but you didn't care as you grabbed your suitcase and ran to an alleyway. You teleported to a mall you remembered seeing going to the airport, then a gas station, a restaurant, a park and finally, your home. Your head was spinning slightly as you opened the door and dropped your bags off with a note you wrote in the plane.

'I'm off to see Katsuki, be home by 7'

You stepped outside. You appeared in front of U.A. and  got through its walls without an alarm. You found a building that said 1A and walked up to the door.

You knocked a few times and eventually someone open one of two huge doors. It was a girl with a round face and brown hair. "Hello there, who might you be?"

"Uh yeah hi can I see katsuki? Is he here?" You rushed your questions, trying to look over her shoulder.

She gave you a puzzled look, "uhm, yeah he's here-"

"Good. S'cuse me" you said teleporting past her and storming into what you assumed was the common area.

You looked around the mansion-like dorm building, your mind too busy to admire it. There were a few students here and there in the dining area and the living room but no Katsuki. Everyone was staring at you and when you finally saw that blonde pomeranian of a person you stormed up to him. He was with some dude with a red version of his own hair, the guy chatting to him while he had that everlasting scowl on his face. You stormed up to him as his buddy stopped talking. He looked up at you for a brief second before you smacked him right across the face. You heard a few gasps but it went unnoticed as red hair guy stepped back.

Right after the slap was heard throughout the room followed by the sight of you with your arms around him and your face buried in his chest. Your tears got soaked up by the cotton of his shirt and you started, "Bakugou Katsuki you DO NOT just get fucking KIDNAPPED while I'm abroad and not respond to my quirk! Do you know how fucking worried I was!?"

He just wrapped his arms around you as you sobbed into his chest. You hit him repeatedly, "fuck you fuck you fuck you"

"Sorry, 'kay? I didn't want you to come to me and get hurt" He said quietly, only for you to hear

"Fuck you lets go out I missed you and I'm furious I want ice cream" you said, wiping your eyes.

He blinked, "Wow you just went through a lot of emotions. Sure lets go"

Everyone stared in awe at how you could get mad at him without him bowing up your face in retaliation. Kaminari slowly walked up to the two of you, "Heeeey Bakugou, you wanna introduce us to this lovely lady?" He asked, winking at you.

"Ew" you said. "Nope, fuck off Dunce Face" he said, eyes narrowing at the scared blonde.

"Let's go" he said facing you and holding your hand. You thought of your favorite ice cream shop and teleported you both there.

~~~~~~~~~~

You two were currently sitting on a bench at the park eating from your ice cream cones. You were laying your head on his shoulder while licking any ice cream that fell from the cone. You could tell he was pissed about something because he had a scowl on his face. He always did, sure, but not really when he was with you. You huffed, "ugh, fine I'll ask. Why do you look so pissed?"

"Why did you do that?" he snapped

"Do what?"

"Storm into my dorm building, now everyone's gonna ask questions about us"

"And I'm gonna answer them"

"Nothing personal about us though"

You shrugged, "I dunno, I'm pretty blunt and honest"

He chuckled, "that's why I love you"

"You love me cuz I'm a badass bitch"

"That too"

You both burst into a small fit of laughter. That's the thing about you both, you complimented yourselves and each other, simultaneously raising both of your self esteems. You were also there to smack the pride off of him if his ego was getting too big. That was always your dynamic and it was working. If he hasn't stormed out of the relationship after a year, it meant it was going good.

You both finished your ice cream and teleported you both to the outside of Heights Alliance. Before you could get a hold of the doorknob he pinned you to the wall between the window and the door. "Katsuki, what the hell?"

"Before we go in, just wanted to make sure they now not to fool around with you" he growled as he attacked your lips.  He forced his tongue into you mouth, winning dominance over you with little effort. He sucked on your tongue and further explored your mouth. He pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your lips and his. Quickly latching his lips to your neck he bit, sucked, kissed, and licked you sweet spot and anywhere that could be obviously seen. You suppressed moan after moan and just as quickly as it started, it ended.

He wiped his lips and just before you could collect yourself he slammed the door open and pushed you inside. You stumbled in and walked alongside him. Everyone looked at the two of you as you tried to wipe the saliva from your puffy lips  and from your neck. You followed him quietly as you both took a seat on the couch. You were flushed in embarrassment until someone finally talked to you.

"Hi there! I'm Mina Ashido! Judging by your puffy lips and hickeys I can assume your Bakugou"s girlfriend?"

"Wow, forward much?" You replied

"Yup! Now tell me, how did you guys meet? How did you guys get together?  How are you guys still together?"

Your fit of giggles died down and you finally started to answer her questions.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #453

“you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave”

What health problems run in your family? Diabetes, high blood pressure and cholesterol, depression, cancer, a LOT more that I'm forgetting. Where did you last have sex? I have zero memory of the last time that was, so I wouldn't know. But probably a bed? How long have you known your best friend? Since we were around 8 and 11. What’s something people criticize you the most for? That I rely on the computer too much. Are spiders scary? I mean some are, but they're also extremely fascinating animals that I really enjoy observing. Cheetos. Poofy or regular? Regular, for sure. The poofy ones get stuck in your teeth SO badly. What's your favorite music genre? Heavy metal. Be honest. What are you most afraid of? Doing nothing with my life. What's your favourite type of survey to take? The ones with really random questions that you don't see in every single one. However, I don't like "random" to where the questions are just inapplicable to almost everyone. I also enjoy questions that allow me to vent about stuff I have going on. If I'm in the right mood, deep questions are great, too. What was the last topic you read about? In detail? I don't know. What shirt do you wear the most? Besides tank tops, my Cloak "equal in our bones" Day of the Dead shirt. What's your go-to order from KFC? I don't eat at KFC. Did you have hand-me-down clothes when you were growing up? Yes. What was the last song you listened to? Well, NOW I'm obsessed with Violet Orlandi's cover of "Hotel California." I keep finding new songs that I just loop for days, man, lol. I'm still not over her "The Unforgiven" cover. Did you have long hair as a young kid? I did. How many songs do you know by the band you are listening to? I'm still listening to Violet's "Hotel California" cover, which is originally by The Eagles. I obviously know this song, as well as "Heartache Tonight." Probably more, just those are the two I know and like. What podcasts do you listen to, if any? I don't listen to any. What was your most recent binge watch? Gab Smolders' playthrough of Final Fantasy X. What’s the oldest thing currently in your house? Hell, possibly my bed frame. I don't know. If you use Snapchat, do you post to your story or send individual snaps more often? I don't have one. When was the last time you rolled your eyes? At what? Not too long ago. Mom said something that really annoyed me. Do you like mozzarella sticks? No. If you had to name one of your children after a friend, solely based on their name alone, who would you choose? Probably Alon. Everything about her is beautiful, ha ha. Have you ever watched anime porn? I can confidently say I have not... Are ladybugs cute? Yes! Would you wear something made from snake skin? Fuck no. I won't wear anything that comes from an animal. Will you leave the house without fragrance on? Yeah, idc. What’s the coolest thing you’ve ever done for a significant other? In art class, I made an anatomically correct heart out of clay and put it in a shadow box along with a poem as the background. I honestly really hope Jason still has it, because I worked my ass off on it. What do you think of naming your son after the father (ex. Roy Jr.): It's not my business what other parents name their kids, but for me personally, I really don't like it. Like... give your child their own identity. It also feels kinda arrogant to me? Like are you so important that you have to force your name onto your kid? Do you like Death Cab For Cutie? I only know "I Will Follow You Into the Dark," which I adore. Do walking near or past cops make you feel uncomfortable? Yes. I just feel like I'm doing something wrong somehow. Do you think stretching (or gauging) your ears is disgusting? When they get to a certain size, to me it is. Small ones are no biggie. What piercing or body modification do you think is really gross? Oh my god, those corset piercings people get on their backs. Just... no. What would you do if your bf/gf told you they were going into the army? I'd be fucking devastated, in a hypothetical relationship where we're serious. What is the nearest gas station called? Uhhhh... I forgot lol. The second-closest though, which is almost like, RIGHT beside the other one, is Sheetz. Do you think bearded dragons are cute? omg YES!!!!!!!! What is your father’s best friend’s name? Do you know them personally? I have no idea. Ever have a dream you’re being abducted by aliens? Was it scary? No. Are you someone who tends to take a whole lot of naps? Too many, honestly. I'm just like... always tired. What is your favorite nickname you like to be called? Why do you like it? Hm. My favorite I've ever had was "Bee," which Megan called me, but I don't like others calling me that. Ever meet someone whose house has burned down spontaneously? Yes, in middle school. Why aren’t you pursuing the person you like? I kinda am. I reached out to him. What part of a person’s body do you find most attractive? Guys: shoulder blades. Girls: hips. Any friends that you’d go on a date with? Yeah. I think I want to try that with Girt and see how it goes and decide what the fuck I want. Is it cute when someone calls you babe? It's funny, I used to hate that, but now I imagine I wouldn't mind? Do you like Muse? Yeah! "Unnatural Selection" and "Psycho" are especially BANGERS. What’s your favorite flavor of jello? Strawberry. What song is stuck in your head right now? I'm bingeing the absolute fuck outta the song I mentioned earlier, ha ha. Do you have a niece or nephew? I have a lot, but only three I see regularly. Have you ever been caught doing something REAL embarrassing by your parents? idk What did you receive for Valentine’s Day? I think Mom got me a chocolate bar? When was the last time you went to a cemetery, and why were you there? I want to say this was many years ago when I went with Colleen to her church. Her stillborn brother was buried there. Have you ever owned a plant? What was it? I grew habaneros once, along with some sort of succulents from Colleen. What was the most interesting animal you have seen in the wild? I saw a mink jump into the river once when I was out fishing with Dad at our favorite spot. Were you born in the state you live in? Yep. Always lived here. What’s a smell that makes you feel ill? Dog shit. Do you like to sleep? Yes and no. I like falling asleep if it's quick, because I'm all comfy, but I also dread sleep because of my nightmares. Even with my mask, they're starting to become regular again. After last night's, I am legitimately beginning to fear something is psychologically wrong with me. Like, I cried to my mom. Do you like the smell of gasoline? Ugh, no. It gives me a headache. Have you lost contact with anyone you wish you haven’t? Many people. Did you give anyone his/her first kiss? No. Should you ever have gone to the hospital but didn’t? Vice versa? No. Who do you miss the most? Jason. What do you miss the most? Being happy. What is your birthstone? Do you have any jewelry with it? Amethyst. I have a really cute guardian angel pin with one given to me by my grandmother. What is the last dream you remember having? Last night was... awful. I remember Mom and I getting in a MASSIVE fight, and also literally yelling at my late beloved dog something about crushing his head in if he didn't stop barking. Like I mentioned earlier, I'm really scared something is really wrong with me. Have you had a church confirmation, bar/bat mitzvah, or something similar? Growing up Roman Catholic, I had a Confirmation ceremony. What was the last baby animal you saw? I wanna say a puppy on Facebook. A friend just got one.

[princessjungeun]

7:30 Backstories: Hyejoo

because this is an AU they obviously aren’t idols hence why there will be more in depth about the relationships between characters

Hyejoo

It was a normal Tuesday night when the city of Seoul was attacked. Hyejoo and her brother were up late doing homework when a loud boom sounded shaking the whole house. Hyejoo looked up at her older brother and he immediately ushered her into the family’s basement.

Their parents rushed to be with them before another boom sounded, definitely closer. Hyejoo’s dad locked eyes with her, pulling his daughter and wife into his arms. Her older brother huddling around wrapping his arms around the two females.

Hyejoo held onto her mother’s hand, squeezing it for dear life. The older woman kissing her daughter’s hand gently, “be strong Hyejoo, I love you.” Before the young teenager could respond a louder boom sounded, this time caving the roof of the house.

A crushing weight fell over the huddled family, soft groans from Hyejoo’s parents filled her ears. The young teenager rubbed her eyes, her ears ringing and vision blurry.

“Eomma? Appa? Oppa?” She looked around for her family members, layers of cement and rocks crushing her body. Hyejoo saw her mother, eyes closed, her skin covered in dust. Looking further she realized her father was further underneath the rubble. Her older brother trying to push himself out.

“OPPA! Help me!” She yelled for her older brother, tears starting to run down her cheeks. The older boy managed to dig himself fairly quickly. Running over to her, he stepped over his mother knowing there was no use in trying to help her, she was gone.

With all his strength he pulled Hyejoo from under the pile of cement and metal. He brushed tears from her cheeks and hugged her “Are you ok? Anything hurt?” She scanned her arms and legs before shaking her head no.

“I need to get you to safety....i’m taking you to the university, there’s dorm rooms underground.” He tugged her arm but she didn’t move.

Hyejoo insisted “ I want to bring Chaewon, let me go get her. Please.” She looked at her brother with pleading eyes. He knew he could say no, especially after they just lost their parents.

He sighed “Fine. Go to Chaewon’s house, if she’s not there come right back. I’m going to find Henry. If you’re not here when I get back I’m going to come get you ok?” She hugged him and sprinted down the street to her girlfriend’s house.

When she arrived she found Chaewon’s house in slightly better condition than her own. Half of the house was completely demolished, part the roof caved in on the standing half.

“CHAEWON-AH! Chaewon!” Hyejoo shouted standing in front of her house. Police sirens drowning out her shouts. Scanning the exterior of the house she searched for where her girlfriend’s window would be. Her heart sank when she realized it was on the demolished side of the house.

Running over to the pile of rubble she saw Chaewon’s parents, limp and lifeless. Hyejoo checked for a pulse on the two adults, tears starting to sting when she didn’t feel one. Looking for the blonde’s hair or a pale hand she started digging through the pile of brick and mortar.

Blood starting to draw from her hands as she aggressively dug faster to find her girlfriend’s body. Tears flowed down her face as she dug, starting to lose hope that she was even here. Until she noticed a small hand stuck underneath a cement panel, Chaewon.

Hyejoo tore apart everything that was separating her from her girlfriend. Pushing the large cement panel off from the small blonde, she sighed of relief seeing Chaewon’s chest slowly moving up and down.

“Chaewon-ah? Can you hear me?” The black haired girl held the blonde’s hand in hers. A soft groan escaped Chaewon’s lips, Hyejoo crying harder knowing that her girlfriend was going to be fine. Carefully she pulled Chaewon from the ground and pulled her onto her back.

Halfway back to her house she found her brother running with his boyfriend Henry. The four ran to the university, quickly finding Hyejoo’s older brother’s dorm.

•

•

•

The four stayed in the safety of the underground dorms for weeks. In this time Hyejoo’s older brother taught Hyejoo about bombs, grenades, and gases obtained by enemy forces.

Late one night Hyejoo woke up, Chaewon’s head resting on her chest, an arm wrapped around her waist. The black haired girl gently kissed Chaewon on the lips before slipping out of bed.

This was a common habit of hers when she couldn’t sleep. Sneaking back above ground to throw whatever she could get her hands on. This was her sort of therapy, not only did it help get her anger out, it also helped with increasing her arm strength.

When she returned to the dorms she expected to see Chaewon in bed, Henry and her older brother across the room. However they were gone. The whole floor was empty, the few other university students that sheltered there were gone. She was alone this time.

Running above ground she shouted for her girlfriend and brother, only to be met with silence. She walked day and night through the city, sleeping in random alleyways hoping she’d be lucky enough to open her eyes the next morning.

The streets were littered with the bodies of fallen soldiers. Sometimes she would just take what she needed from the bodies, not like they had use for it anymore.

Over time she’d gathered a bag of explosives, gas bombs, a bulletproof vest, and a small amount of food and water. The young teenager wandered for weeks, meeting people here and there, but nobody could be trusted anymore. She just wanted to find her brother, Henry, and of course Chaewon.

As dawn fell, the sky was still dark, the sound of bombs exploding in the distance. Her body felt heavy and weak, she dragged her feet along the ground lazily. A loud shout echoed from behind her, “HEY LITTLE GIRL STOP WALKING!” Hyejoo looked around in confusion, slowly reaching for a grenade on her vest.

The deep voice yelled again for her to stop, but Hyejoo didn’t. The language they spoke wasn’t Korean, it wasn’t one Hyejoo could put her finger on, but it definitely sounded East-Slavic. She looked around trying to find where the voice was coming from, until she felt her eyes burning.

A white cloud swallowed her, the fumes burning her throat and eyes. This was a gas she didn’t recognize, this burned more than anything she’d ever felt. She pulled the pin from her grenade and threw it in the direction she thought was correct. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she sprinted the other way, she didn’t stop running. Tears running down her face, her eyes burning. Everything hurt, she wanted help, she needed someone, anyone.

She turned around, although she couldn’t see much, she could still tell she was outside. Hyejoo smacked into something, rather someone full force. Getting up from the ground she kept her eyes closed.

“HEY WATCH IT PUT YOUR HANDS UP!” A girl yelled in Korean. Immediately she did as she was told, feeling more vulnerable because she couldn’t see. Not being able to take the pain she rubbed at her eyes.

“I SAID HANDS UP!” The girl yelled again, Hyejoo kept her hands on her eyes. “I’m sorry I was gassed I can’t see... it hurts. I won’t hurt you and I’m not the enemy help me please!” Before she could continue a familiar voice called out “Ryujin what’s the problem?”

Hyejoo moved her hands from her eyes, “Henry. That’s Henry. Henry Lau. 25. Graduate Biochemical Engineering student at Seoul National. My brother’s boyfriend. I know him.”

The girl Hyejoo was assuming to be Ryujin grabbed her arm and walked her to the squad. “This girl says she knows Henry. Is she lying?”

Hyejoo felt someone wrap strong arms around her, “she’s not lying- what’s on you? It’s burning my eyes.” Henry realized the problem and helped Hyejoo flush her eyes. Her vision was long gone but that didn’t take away from the fact that she had found one of the three people she needed most.

“Where’s my brother? Where’s Chaewon? Do you all know her?” Hyejoo flooded the group with questions but Henry quickly hushed her. “They don’t know them Hyejoo. I- Your brother is gone. I woke up and he was there, but no pulse...Chaewon I don’t know. I saw her run, I think she went to find you I don’t know. But I haven’t seen her since. I’m sorry.”

Hyejoo wiped a single tear that fell from her now blind eyes. She sighed and asked “well can I join you all? I can throw grenades and bombs, I don’t miss.”

“You’re in.”

[astraltrain]

i realize i haven't talked about gorillaz hcs on here in a Fat Second so here i go. trigger warnings for uhhh abuse, trauma, suicide mention, alcohol mention, death mention, experimentation (for noodle) - this is gorillaz there's a lot. this is also SUPER LONG so i'll try and add a read more

every one of em has Trauma To The Max babey!!!! these guys have been to hell and back!!! literally in murdoc's case

cyborg could talk! she just chose not to. also murdoc realized programming her with a voice was annoying because she Looked like noodle but he couldn't make her sound exactly like her and it pissed him off. every word cyborg learned was through murdoc/2D/the book of man/various other scrap pieces of paper she found

russel n del were boyfs. fuck you

2D is the only straight member. i think this is canon actually ngl (was it ever made canon that russel n del were together?? i don't remember)

russel truly believes del was his soulmate and that he'll never find love again

every year on the anniversary of d-day 2D goes back to the place where the uncle norm's organ emporium was (which is now a greggs. i know my gorillaz lore) and just vibes for a bit

russel likes to visit graveyards and play music for the lonely spirits who don't get visitors

2D accompanied him once on one of these trips and it was wild cause 2D's like "russel russel russel are there any spirits near me" as like. all of the spirits huddle next to russel because 2D is loud and annoying. russel's like "oh yeah dee there's tons of spirits over there they really like you. why don't you sing for them" and dee's like :DD

2D is generally pretty oblivious. but. he noticed russel was really sad and missing del during phase two and wrote mr softy's balloon race to cheer him up. it was one of the nicest things russel had received in years and he cried over it for hours. what 2D Didn't know was that he'd just saved russel's life and he didn't even know it.

noodle as a ten year old didn't realize How Bad the relationship between murdoc and 2D was. obviously she'd had a really fucked up childhood so far so when murdoc would hurt 2D and 2D would laugh and play it off so as not to scare noodle, noodle was just like :DDD thinking it was all ok

it was during the time that noodle was alone in phase two after remembering her past that she was like. o h n o that was bad wasn't it

noodle met a girl in japan and lowkey fell in love with her, but they had to split so noodle could go back to kong. she wrote every planet we reach is dead for her

2D and noodle never got to properly reunite in phase three. by the time doyathing happened, 2D hadn't seen her in like seven years

murdoc is trying to be less of a terrible person now and all the other members take advantage of it. russel's like "can i get a coffee please murdoc" and murdoc goes "fuck off" but all russel has to say is "remember when you thought i'd offed myself so you replaced me with a drum machine" and murdoc's like. "how many sugars" dhdgdgdh

noodle n 2D fucking love to dance together like absolute nerds

2D is like. the awkward big brother

they are each others wingmen when picking up girls

except 2D doesn't do that as much anymore so in reality he tries to be noodle's wingman but it fails miserably because 2D Can't Do Social Interaction

the boogieman and the evangelist were murdoc's parents

all the band have really bad insomnia and nightmares so sometimes they all have sleepovers in one room and just. watch a movie and sit on their phones but they're in each other's company and that's all they need

they all have a fear of helicopters, especially noodle

russel became extremely claustrophobic after his time in north korea which was very understandable

all of them have pretty weird triggers but none of them question them. noodle starts freaking out cause 2D's eating bacon and he's like "o shit sorry i'll go to another room" they're all very respectful and it's great

the reason 2D had that bead curtain door in phase four was cause after plastic beach, he couldn't stand to be in rooms with closed doors anymore

also! more 2D angst! he didn't sing for like. a good couple years after plastic beach because Trauma Babey!! so when he had to sing again for humanz, the first time he got into the studio he just. had a complete fucking meltdown because he was so scared to sing again. eventually he managed it but he literally couldn't sing with murdoc around because he was so afraid of him

noodle sometimes does really childish stuff because obviously she had no fucking childhood and the others just let her go for it and support her if she gets embarrassed about it

noodle has killed people. lots of em. some against her will as a kid, some more recently. she has a lot of nightmares about it but unlike the rest of the band, she does Really good self care and looks after herself really well

the band sometimes go on spontaneous road trips and usually end up getting lost and taking aesthetic pictures at gas stations

noodle very rarely cries because she would have gotten into trouble for that as a kid so she bottles all her emotions up in favour of helping her family. when she started going to therapy she pretended all was well for a little while but that didn't work for very long and she completely broke down. russel was very surprised to see noodle come home that day in tears and just throw herself into his arms

noodle really likes fashion and clothes and makeup!! she likes to be Colourful and Bright

when she first arrived at kong at ten years old, she really didn't understand what was going on. none of the band spoke any japanese so she was under the impression that these people were new doctors who were going to train/test on her. she stuck to the routine she was given back in japan and was very surprised when the others didn't do the same. like small green man it's three in the afternoon why are you just up?? big bald man why are you just going to bed??? where is the tall blue man WHAT IS GOING ON

none of the band members were qualified to be parents. at all. they were all very messed up mentally and therefore noodle just kinda did what she wanted as a kid

noodle was exposed to a lot of bad shit while in kong. 2D and murdoc were not responsible at all about what they did and said around noodle so russel tried to be more responsible about that, but little noodle's just like "oh don't worry i've seen worse" and russel's like ?????

noodle was the one to rebuild cyborg out of the parts she had left from plastic beach. she did this while murdoc was in prison just to prove she could

2D has an extreme fear of cyborg, which is. obvious

noodle didn't tell 2D she was rebuilding cyborg. when he finds out he flips his shit and noodle's like. ah. maybe this was not a great idea

cyborg has now formed her own band! the rejects!

2D wears little bobby pins in his hair behind his ear which the band sometimes lowkey makes fun of him for until one day noodle asks why and he tells her it was because back on plastic beach, murdoc would sometimes be too drunk to remember to bring 2D food so he had to pick the lock and go steal some. so Yikes babey!!!!!!

writing the fall was the only thing that helped 2D cope during plastic beach. that's why there was barely any singing on it - this was HIS album, HIS voice, not murdoc's. he could do what he wanted with it. writing it was the only thing that kept him sane

noodle's the only member who hasn't tried to off herself at any point oop

they're all doing a lot better now cause they're all going to therapy yes even murdoc! yay fun happy times

russel taught noodle english and in return noodle taught him japanese. russel can now speak pretty good japanese and 2D knows like. the most basic of shit *flashbacks to the gshock interview video*

there was a while where noodle believed that literally all she was for was other people. that she was either a weapon or a guitarist and nothing more. it was only after she disappeared after phase two that she realized she could be more

she still has a scar from el mañana but she covers it up with makeup

2D and murdoc have made a pact to smoke/drink less, respectively. they also made what they called a "non suicide pact" - a pact not to off themselves, formed after 2D found murdoc shooting bullets into the ceiling in phase four

murdoc knew about the dartboard 2D had in his room that had his face on it because noodle and russel told him but he didn't really believe it until he went up into his room like "hey dents can i -" and 2D turns round and just stares at him, darts in hand fhgvhfhvf

murdoc: ....whatya doin' there dents

2D, turning back to the dartboard and throwing one straight into dartboard murdoc's eye: practicing for the real thing

hcvdhvdfhg anyway

sometimes 2D literally Cannot be around murdoc so he'll disappear for days without telling anyone cause he forgets that people worry about him oh no

murdoc says he wants to drink less alcohol cause he wants to better himself as a person but really it's because he can't drink without getting flashbacks to plastic beach

murdoc's memories of plastic beach aren't great. he was drunk out his mind most of the time so he luckily forgot a lot that comes back to haunt him in nightmares and has him waking up thinking "fuck did i really do that??" but yeah sometimes 2D just reminds him of something really awful he did and murdoc's like. a h

when ace came into gorillaz he was absolutely doing it for the paycheck. then he realized how Enormously Fucked Up these people were and was like o h n o

ace could not understand a word of 2D's english accent

ace once asked 2D why he was called that. 2D said "well my real name is stuart but murdoc calls me 2D and it stuck" and ace goes!!! that's bullshit!!! and he starts calling him stuart. he refuses to call him 2D. 2D gets so emotional over it he starts crying and ace is like "s h i t what do i do did i fuck up" but in reality dee's just glad to like. not be "2D" for once and to just be someone else

murdoc and 2D are heavily codependent on each other and it's extremely unhealthy cause obviously they're Really Bad For Each Other but. 2D's known murdoc since he was 19 and murdoc has never really left his life except for the one point before and after plastic beach. that's why when murdoc goes to prison in phase five, 2D just goes apeshit. because now 2D doesn't have the threat of murdoc constantly hanging over his head!! he's gone and 2D is free!!!! yay!!!!!!!

then he's like. o h. he's gone and i'm free. oh no

because he has no clue what to do with himself now!! his whole life revolved around murdoc and now murdoc is gone 2D's realizing "Oh No maybe our relationship WAS really unhealthy if i'm feeling this depressed now that he's gone!!!"

the now now was like. the fall part two: electric boogaloo in terms of how 2D wrote it to cope with his trauma

souk eye was like a really depressing love song

2D's lowkey a little in love with murdoc but not really in the romantic sense at all. and obviously it's not cute or reciprocated by murdoc or anything 2d.c shippers dni blease

he just. feels like murdoc's the only one who could ever love him and UGH it's so unhealthy. luckily noodle makes him go to therapy and he gets a bit better. by the time the end of phase five rolls around 2D's like >:D yeah!! i won't let you hurt me anymore murdoc!!!

then murdoc actually escapes and is rumored to be dead and the whole band just shuts down

because murdoc, like it or not (and none of them liked it), was the glue that held the band together. and fuck if it didn't fucking destroy them all a little bit, especially 2D

then murdoc showed up at their door and. 2D was the one to answer it without knowing it was murdoc. and there's noodle and also murdoc, still in his prison clothes, covered in literal shit, and the first thing he blurts out is "i listened to the album."

2D panics and slams the door in his face HCDGHGCDH

russel refuses to let murdoc inside unless he can give him one good reason to. noodle comes in through the back door and comforts her brother while he has a panic attack and murdoc's just. sitting at the door pouring his heart out to russel through the door. covered in shit. these guys need help man

eventually 2D and murdoc face each other again and oh lord. they're both crying and then murdoc apologizes and murdoc's never apologized for anything, ever, he never says he's sorry, and then they're hugging and noodle and russel are like !!!!!!!

meanwhile ace is like. can i get my paycheck. can i PLEASE get my paycheck

murdoc: here dents i got you a demon possessed yak. her name is madonna

ace, who's spent many a night listening to 2D cry and vent about murdoc and all he's done to him: surely he's not just gonna accept that and move on

russel and noodle, who know 2D far too well: oh he will. trust me he will

long story short 2D is now the proud father of a demon possessed yak named madonna

song machine is kind of like. their Big Project that they're putting together to try and bring them all closer as a family. it's kind of working but also not really. they're trying their best

they're all a good family and they have to stick together and they're messed up but they love each other!!!! that is all thank you and goodnight ladies and gentlemen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[13-reasons-ideas]

Finding Peace In Another Part 24

A/N: This chapter contains SMUT. DO NOT read if you are under 18 or are uncomfortable with smut. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I apologize for the delay. I started my old job back and it has been really busy. Hoping to use Thursday and Friday to get ahead some. As always, feedback is appreciated and much love.         

Saturday night, Bailey and I ventured out to school to go to the game. “Can I drive?”

“No. My car, I drive.”

“Ugh fine. Can I drive on the way home?”

“I’ll think about it.” Not freaking likely Bailey. He whistled as we pulled up to the school.

“I didn’t realize there actually were different buildings at American high schools. How do you know where you’re going?”

“Same way I did back home. Trial and error. And friends giving me directions or walking me to class. What did you think I meant the other day when I said they helped me out when I got here?”

“I don’t know.” We began walking to the football stadium. “Is it just me or is everyone staring at me?”

“Not you. Her.” Cyrus said, popping out of the crowd. “Name’s Cyrus.” He nodded to Bailey.

“Bailey.” He nodded in return, “why are they staring at her?”

“She’s dating Montgomery de la Cruz. People are going to stare.”

“I didn’t think he was ‘stare at his girlfriend’ bad. Becca, what did you leave out?”

“Nothing important. He just… tends to have issues dealing with his emotions is all.” I explained. Bailey stopped in his tracks and grabbed my hand, his expression hard and his eyes cold.

“Issues?”

“Not with me. I was serious the other day. He wouldn’t lay a hand on me.”

“Fucking better not.”

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t like the guy but I really don’t think he’s the type. To hurt women, I mean. He pretty well keeps his outbursts restricted to guys.” Cyrus added, quickly.

“Good.” Bailey said, putting an arm around me, out of habit. People did double takes but when I flicked him in the face gently, they lost interest.

We made it to the bleachers and found decent enough seats. The girls next to us, noticed the stranger in their midst and stared at him a moment, blushing, before turning back to each other and giggling about how cute he is. I know he’s cute. Before one girl could make a move, I cut her off. “He’s with me. He’s my best friend. He isn’t from here and he isn’t staying, trust me. It’s not worth the trouble.” The girls looked shocked and Cyrus burst out laughing. Bailey looked astonished that I would prevent him from whatever “moves” he could have made.

“Did you see that?” He asked Cyrus.

“Dude don’t worry about it. You dodged a bullet with those two.”

“Oh?”

“Blonde doesn’t understand the concept of a one-night stand and the brunette doesn’t understand ‘not my type’.”

Bailey shivered, “thanks Becky.”

“Bailey! What did I say about you calling me Becky?”

“I know, I know. But you love me so you can’t do anything about it.”

“I could call Jessica and tell her how much you miss her.” I challenged. He gulped and squeaked.

“I take it Jessica is not missed?” Cyrus asked. I bent over laughing.

“No. Psycho tried to pin a pregnancy on him a year after they broke up.”

“I didn’t do so good in science, but I do remember that you have to have sex with someone to get them pregnant and also pregnancy doesn’t last a year and a half.” Bailey said. I looked out at the crowd still gathering and waved at some of my other friends.

“Think you can use some of that dating an athlete privilege to make them move?” Cyrus asked me, leaning over Bailey.

“My what now?”

“Dating an athlete privilege. You’re dating Liberty High top end of the food chain. You get special privileges because of it.”

“And how do you know this exactly Cy?”

“I hear talk.”

“Right. Uh, I can try I guess?” I shrugged. Cyrus leaned back to watch the show and tapped Bailey to do the same. “Excuse me ladies, would you mind moving somewhere else?” I asked politely. They each raised a sculpted brow at me. Bailey coughed, but I could swear I heard a “firmer” in there. “Do you realize who I’m dating?” I raised a brow back at them. They sat for a second trying to place me, when they did, their eyes widened, and they immediately stood and stepped up to the next row. Cyrus laughed and slapped my knee; Bailey joined in shortly after.

“That was the greatest thing I’ve seen all week. Did you see their faces?”

“If I knew you could have had that kind of power at home, I would have pushed for you to date an athlete a long time ago.”

“We didn’t go to school events. You don’t go to school events.”

“I know but if you could have made people move, I might have.”

“Hey Becca, Cryus. Uh… Stranger.” We heard Alex say near us. We all turned to him.

“Hey. Did you want to sit?” I offered, scotching over some.

“Sure.” He said, sitting down. He turned his attention to Bailey. “Do I call you hat?”

“Depends, do I get to call you cardigan?” Seriously thought he was going to say cane.

“Alex.”

“Bailey. I’m in town visiting Becca.”

“Oh cool.”

“It was a surprise visit. I got home from school the other day and he was sitting on my doorstep.”

“Sneaky. Zach mentioned something about picking your friend’s brain.”

“He did. I told him all sorts of things about her. I’m told he’s my replacement, so I had to give him many details.”

His comments drew my attention. “What exactly did you tell him Bailey?”

“Stuff.” He smirked.

“What stuff?”

“I’ll let him fill you in after I leave.”

“Bastard.” I huffed.

“But I’m your bastard.” He said, pulling me into a close side hug.

“I suppose I’m stuck with you.” I sighed, overdramatically.

“That you are.” He laughed, kissing the side of my head. I felt Alex and Cyrus’ eyes glued to our exchange.

“Before you jump to conclusions, he’s just my friend. He’s almost a brother to me.”

“This is purely platonic. We’ve been best friends for years.”

Cyrus shrugged. “Okay, whatever works for you guys.”

“Does Monty know how close you are?”

“Yeah. We talked about it Thursday and again this morning. After they covered me in waffle batter and flour.”

“And you smothered him in Nutella.” Alex made a gagging motion to Cyrus.

“Not like that you perv. I swiped Nutella across his face.”

“Oh. Okay.” He nodded, obviously not really believing me. I shrugged.

Our discussion bounced from topic to topic after the game started. Truthfully, I wasn’t very interested in what was happening on the field. I was only there to be supportive to my friends and my boyfriend. It was a close game. So close in fact, that we only lost by a two-point conversion. I pulled out my phone for the first time all night right as the game ended and texted Monty, I’m sorry sweetheart. If you can wait until Tuesday night, the consolation sex will make up for it, I’m sure. I added an I love you but quickly deleted it before hitting send. It’s not the right time to say it nor is it something to say via text the first time.

Monty responded around twenty minutes later, I guess I can wait. Are you coming to Bryce’s tonight? Bailey is welcome to come. I realized then, that I hadn’t thought of my… incident… all day. “Hey Bailey, you feel like going to a party tonight?” I hope he says no….

“Will there be alcohol?”

“I assume so?”

“Then sure.” Fuck. I sighed discreetly before texting back, he’s down.  I don’t know if we will stay long though.

That’s okay. See you in a bit, babygirl.

“Shall we?” I asked, as I stood up and grabbed hold of my bag.

“Yeah, sure. It was nice meeting you guys.”

“You too.” My friends replied.

We walked arm and arm back to my car. As I was grabbing my keys, Bailey spoke up, “can I drive now?”

“Is this still my car?”

“Yes?”

“Then no.” Bailey pouted at my response but got in the car anyway.

I zipped home and parked in the garage, figuring there was no point in parking at Bryce’s and then driving home from there. It would take more gas to turn on the car than to get home. I made a quick stop in the house for a lighter sweater and to drop off my purse. People were already milling around the front yard when we arrived. I stopped briefly at the front door, trying to rid my brain of thoughts of what happened the last time I walked through this door.

“Becca.” I heard Scott call from the living room. I shook my head slightly and waved at him. Monty was walking towards him, but when he saw me at the door, he redirected to walk in my direction.

“Hey beautiful.” He said, pulling me against his side. He shared a nod with Bailey.

“Hey handsome. What are you drinking?”

“I’m not entirely sure. Something mixed with some kind of vodka, I think. Zach made it.”

I furrowed my brow and reached for his cup, sniffing it. It didn’t smell too offensive. “Can I have a sip?”

“Sure.” He replied, handing me the cup. It wasn’t that bad. A little heavy on the vodka but not horrible. I smacked my lips together a few times, trying to place the flavours.

“I think it’s apple juice and peach schnapps.” I looked at Bailey and watched as he looked around the room.

“You realize this is like a six-million-dollar house back home, right?”

“Yeah. I think mine would be around four?”

Monty coughed. “Four million dollars?”

“Yeah. Our housing bubble never burst, so houses are super expensive. What would cost one or two hundred thousand here, would cost four to five there. It’s stupid.”

“Fuck. How do you afford to live there?”

“Renting. Even though that’s stupidly expensive too. Everything is more expensive in Canada.”

He shook his head and took my hand, leading us to the kitchen. “Pick your poison. You want a beer Bailey?”

“American beer? No thanks. I’ll just let Becca mix me something.”

“I was going to go with a vodka cranberry, do you want that? I know you don’t drink apple juice, so I won’t try to hunt down Zach.”

“Sure.”

After I mixed our drinks, the three of us went off in search of the rest of our friend group. I spotted Justin and Zach talking and called over to them. They waved for us to come and chat.

“Vodka, apple juice, and peach schnapps?” I asked Zach.

“How did you know?”

“She’s still got it.” Bailey laughed, high fiving me. The boys looked at us, confused.

“My friends used to mix me drinks and stuff and make me guess what was in them. I was right most of the time. Oh, and Justin, this is my best friend Bailey. Bailey, this is Justin.” They waved to each other.

“So, you used to be fun?” Scott asked.

“I’m still fun. Right Monty?”

“Yes. You are very fun.”

“Your boyfriend saying you are fun doesn’t count Rebecca.” Zach chided.

“Fine. I’m fun, right Justin?”

“Hey now. Don’t drag me into this.”

“She’s fun.” Bryce said, as he walked over to us. I shivered and blinked slowly. Just ignore him. The fact that it’s his house doesn’t matter. Pretend he isn’t here.

“Thank you, Bryce.” I said, shoving my arm towards him to prove my point.

“Any time Becca. Enjoying yourself Bailey?”

“Yeah. Nice house.” Oh man. Bailey doesn’t like him. Hopefully he can keep his mouth shut until we leave.

“Thanks?” His attention was grabbed by someone else, near the back door, so thankfully he walked away and left us alone. I turned to Monty and after making sure he was in good hands, we left Bailey with our friends.

“So, about this consolation sex…?” Monty started as we found a quieter spot in the house.

“What about it?”

“What would it entail exactly?”

“Depends on what you want it to entail. And that’s just something you’ll have to wait to find out about.” I smirked, slyly.

“Babe. It’s Saturday. Tuesday is like an eternity away.”

“Montgomery. It’s less than three days away. If it’s that big of an issue to wait, you’re a big boy, I’m sure you can use your imagination.” He blinked at me a few times. “What?”

“You just… you look so innocent. And then stuff like that comes out of your mouth and….”

“And what?”

“I don’t know what to do with it.”

“What will you do with me?” I asked, batting my lashes.

“I don’t know yet, but you keep that up, Bailey will be spending the night here Princess.” He grumbled, boxing me in against the wall.

“He might be a little pissed off about that.” I whispered. Monty shrugged his brow as though he didn’t care, and then placed a heavy kiss to my lips.

I stuck close to Monty for the rest of the night, too nervous to be left alone in the house, even if it was full of people. Bailey and I left around midnight after I cut him off. Justin was Zach’s designated driver, so he kindly helped me get Bailey home safely and tucked in bed.

The next few days went by quickly. Bailey and I spent much of our day Sunday trying to soak up as much time together as we could before he left on Tuesday morning. We shared a teary eyed see you later when he left. I promised to visit home soon, and he promised to call me as often as he could.

My friends tried to cheer me up as best they could at school but the only thing that I was looking forward to, was a quiet night alone with my boyfriend, having possibly wild consolation sex. I beat Monty to my place since I had taken to bringing my homework to Peer in order to avoid seeing Bryce every afternoon. There wasn’t much I could do in the mornings or if I was having lunch with Monty, but even a small reprieve from being around him was enough for me to get through the day.

When he arrived, I had already changed into one of his shirts, that was really more of a very short dress on me and taken my pants off. My underwear poked out slightly when I walked or reached for anything. As such, he was significantly more reluctant to help me reach anything I needed. I could feel his eyes on me as I pondered what to have for dinner, or even if I was hungry enough for an entire dinner. My appetite had reduced since my… the thing… happened.

“Do you want to just skip dinner?” I asked.

“What else did you have in mind, Becks?” I sauntered over to where he was sitting at the island and pulled myself up onto it. Perched on the edge of the countertop, I leaned in closer to him.

“I can think of a few things.” I whispered, seductively in his ear.

“Is that so?” He whispered back, rubbing my upper thigh. I nodded vigorously. He stood up and leaned closer still to me. Taking advantage of the closeness of his body to mine, I placed my fingers through his belt loops and pulled him to me, in a searing kiss. He growled low in his throat and in one swift motion, pulled me up and held me to his body. His shirt rode up as he held onto my butt with one arm and had the other around my waist. He pulled away from the kiss before setting me down on my feet. I looked up at him, doe eyed as he took advantage of our size difference and towered over me. I felt about ten times smaller than I was. I went to protest, but he picked me up bridal style and took off towards the stairs. Monty carried me all the wait to my room and unceremoniously dropped me in the middle of my bed.

I sat there with my knees parted slightly and watched him. I watched as he closed the door and pulled off his shirt over his head. I didn’t even bother trying to hide the fact that I was once again, mentally drooling at the sight of him shirtless. He caught me staring and smirked. My eyes widened more as he went for his belt. We were both shocked as a growl tore its way from my throat. Woah. “Did you want to do that babygirl?”

“Yes please.” I nodded, my voice sounding small. I sat up some more and went to remove my top.

“Leave it.” He said, sternly. I could feel my underwear begin to soak through at his tone. I nodded and lowered my arms. “Good girl.” I beamed, flashing him a wide smile. He chuckled and shook his head. I waited very patiently while he puttered around my room. This is some kind of test. Or at least, I thought I was waiting patiently. The quiet whimpering was an indication of the opposite. “Patience little one.”

I opened my mouth to speak but when he looked at me, I closed it. Finally, finally he sauntered over to my bed and climbed towards me. I slowly moved back until my back hit the headboard of my bed. I tried really hard, but I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. He looks like a giant cat crawling towards me. Does that make me his prey? Monty stopped when he reached me, and once again, I couldn’t stop myself. I leaned forward and kissed his nose softly. He smiled and kissed mine back. I kissed him again. It was less intense than the one in the kitchen, but still had just as much passion behind it. I followed as he leaned back on his heels.

He had me right where he wanted me. He placed his hands at the bottom of the shirt and pulled up on it. We broke our kiss only to remove it. I took my chance while he was pulling off my shirt and reached for his belt. Surprisingly, he let me unbuckle and pull it off and undo his jeans before he stopped me. With my wrists in his hand, he was able to regain the ounce of control he had lost and push me back down onto the bed. I groaned and pretended to struggle as he readjusted my legs to a more comfortable position and straddled me. “Did I say you could do that, Princess?” he asked, his voice commanding yet condescending.

“No.” I squeaked, shaking my head for emphasis. I guess I must have looked slightly afraid to him because for a moment he relaxed and was back to my loveable Monty again.

“Are you okay with this?”

“Absolutely.” I stated, earnestly. That was all he needed to hear before he was back to his domineering role. I had to bite my lip to hold back my grin at how hot I found the situation.

“Stay. No moving.” He instructed. I fought the urge to acknowledge the instruction and watched him get off the bed and remove both his pants and boxers in one go. I whimpered wantonly and felt a muscle in my arm twitch. I think he assumed it was a muscle spasm because he let it slide.

Once again, he climbed on the bed and crawled towards me. This time he acknowledged my bare chest, having ignored it when He removed my top. Though it was a struggle, I managed to stay still as he rolled and pinched my nipples. I feel more naked than he is right now in just my underwear. I gasped when he pinched one particularly hard. He chuckled, darkly and did it again. I couldn’t help but cry out that time. Seeming to be satisfied, he moved his hands down my body, to my light pink panties. He wasted no time, removing them and immediately rubbing my clit with his thumb. I groaned loudly and squirmed. All stimulation stopped. “Still.” He waited a moment for me to relax again before he resumed his ministrations. I managed to stay still that time.

After he determined I had had enough stimulation, he had me sit up and gave me the go ahead to touch him. I jumped at the chance. My hands instantly found his cock and began stroking at varying speeds. I’ve never been much of a patient person. His grunts and moans only spurred me on more. It wasn’t long before he pushed me away. I looked at him wide eyed. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No. No no. You did everything right.” He assured me, his thumb rubbing my cheek. I smiled and hummed, leaning into his hand. After he made sure I was calm, he began maneuvering my body, so I was on my hands and knees. I arched my back as low as I could and leaned my weight on my elbows. He growled at my eagerness and willingness to be in this position before I felt his cock rub against my folds. I gasped and moved forward slightly. He pulled my hips back into position somewhat roughly and I purred. I could feel him trying not to laugh.

When he entered me, I had to hold back a scream. It felt so good, my brain had already began turning to mush. He groaned behind me, loudly. As he began thrusting harder and faster, he leaned forward to cup my throat and carefully guide me back into a kneeling position. Ignoring my instructions to stay still I leaned into him and brought my arms up and back to wrap around his neck. I felt myself getting closer to my orgasm and knew he could feel it. He reached down to precisely rub my clit and we both began to chase our orgasms. My vision went black for a few seconds and I was there. When I opened my eyes, Monty was lying me forward and back down on my elbows. He went to my bathroom and grabbed a washcloth, cleaning my lower half as I curled up. He made me sit up long enough to put my shirt back on and make room for him to get into his spot. I was out by the time he pulled me against his broad chest.

[jovialyouthmusic]

Silver Service

A Royal Romance AU fanfic sequel to Protect and Serve

Drake and Riley get some quality time alone

Word Count 1858

A/N  As my writing has slowed to a crawl, I split a chapter. It will be a more digestible read this way - enjoy. NS*W No under 18s please

8a Deeper and Closer

Drake swung the steering wheel and the SUV left the road of a dirt track. They had been going to leave early, but Bastien had come to ask Riley about what Sophia had remembered at the castle, so they decided to have a light lunch before they set off. They had packed clothes and food for two days.

‘Hold on, Brookes, it may be bumpy’ he warned her. She grabbed the armrest as the vehicle negotiated the bumps and holes of the road ahead. It started to pitch and roll and she fought back a squeal of terror. She looked over at Drake, whose face was set in grim determination with just a hint of enjoyment.

‘Is this – I mean do you often come up here?’ she asked, her voice shaky as they bumped along the track a little faster than she thought was safe.

‘Not often – once or twice a year’ he said ‘Bas used to bring me fishing on the lake, and sometimes I fish and sometimes I just – well, I just look at the stars’ he smiled.

‘Does that mean we’re camping?’ she asked ‘because I’m not sure I’m dressed for it’

‘It’s okay, there’s a cabin by the lake’ he replied as the vehicle jolted over yet another pot hole. ‘It’s a bit basic, but it’s warm and dry.’

By the time they arrived at the little cabin by the lake, Riley’s nerves were jangled. Drake obviously knew what he was doing with the vehicle, but it had not been a comfortable ride. She got out shakily, glad to be still at last.

‘Drake, remind me to get out and walk next time you turn down a track like that’ Drake grinned

‘Hana said something like that, you girls just can’t take a rough ride’ he scoffed

The cabin was set at the bottom of a gentle wooded slope, pine needles making a soft covering over the ground. A stream cascaded down the slope to feed a still blue lake, reflecting the fluffy clouds above in the afternoon light. There was a little jetty going out into the water, and a small fishing boat was drawn up on the shore.

‘Uh, you show me the bed in that cabin and I’ll show you a rough ride’ teased Riley, punching his shoulder. Drake groaned

‘That’s terrible, Brookes’ he said ‘Come on in and we can drop our stuff off. We’re going fishing for our supper’

------

Some hours later, the two lovers returned to the cabin. Riley had managed to hook a good sized fish, while Drake had only managed a couple of small ones. He made up a fire outside, even though there was a gas stove in the cabin. It was, like he said, very basic, just one large room with a fireplace, fold out sofa bed, table and chairs and a basic kitchen. Water came from a tank fed by the stream that ran into the lake. The bathroom had basic plumbing, and hot water was in short supply. Toilet facilities featured an earth closet outside the cabin, a few feet away into the wood.

‘We don’t want to use the gas stove unless we have to’ Drake explained ‘Wood is free and there’s plenty of it – and cooking outside over an open fire – how many nobles would get their hands dirty?’ Riley smiled and watched him deftly gut the fish ready to put in the hot pan. They ate off tin plates with their fingers, watching the sun set over the lake and went inside to wash their hands in the tiny kitchen.

‘Now, about that rough ride I promised you’ Riley murmured, standing in front of Drake and drawing him near, hands on his hips and grinding against him. He grinned back at her

‘Not just yet, we should get the fire going in the fireplace to warm the place up, it’ll get cold tonight.’ He took her hands off his hips and stepped back. He busied himself laying and lighting the fire while she cleaned the plates they’d used. The fire was soon burning steadily, and Riley snuck up behind Drake to put her arms round him and nibble at his neck.

‘Hey, Riley’ Drake laughed ‘We need to do one more thing before we get the bed out’

‘Who needs a bed?’ She murmured in his ear. He swatted her away again

‘Seriously, one more thing and then I’m all yours’ he chided. She pouted

‘Okay, what?’

‘Just come outside’

‘But it’s getting dark – and cold’ She protested

‘It will be worth it, I promise – and I’ll keep you warm’ She sighed, unconvinced, and he lead her outside toward the lake shore away from the trees so the sky opened out above them. The horizon was a pale gold colour, and the sky gradated to a deep velvety blue overhead, stars starting to twinkle and shimmer. ‘Just look up’ he said ‘It will take a few moments for your eyes to adjust’ Riley gasped in wonder

‘Oh Drake, it’s beautiful’ she said ‘I’ve never seen such a clear dark sky. Do you know the constellations?’

‘Oh uh - sure’ he said, standing behind her and holding her close, pointing out a group of stars overhead ‘Everyone knows the Plough – though I think you call it the Big Dipper – and over there – those three faint stars in a row are Orion – the belt of Orion. And over there are the Pleiades. It’s easier to see them if you look just to the side’

‘Oh, that’s amazing. How about the bright one near the horizon?’ She leaned back into him, savouring the woodsmoke that clung to his clothes and his faint musk underneath.

‘That’s actually a planet – it’s Venus, which is closer to the sun than us, so you can usually see it around sunrise or sunset close to the sun.’

‘And that group over there?’ She pointed and he hummed for a moment

‘That – ah that’s the Waitress. See her frilly little apron? She’s standing gazing at that other group of stars over to the left - it’s called the Cordonian Stud – ouch!’ he yelped as Riley elbowed him in the ribs.

‘You ass’ she laughed ‘you don’t know a thing’

‘No, no, I do!’ He protested ‘Just not a lot’ he said, and she turned around to him, putting her arms around his neck

‘Well stud, lets go in and get cozy’ she said ‘I can see some clouds coming over and I’m starting to feel cold’

Inside, the fire had warmed the cabin, and Drake pulled the sofa bed out and Riley made it up – it took a while as they kept trying to distract each other with kisses and caresses as though it was a matter of life and death that they had to touch each other every few seconds. Finally the bed was made, and they stood in the flickering firelight. Drake threw a couple more logs on and turned to her.

‘At last’ she murmured ‘All done now?’ She stood in front of him and caressed his cheek, his beard scratching her palm.

‘Yup’ he grinned, his hands wandering to her waist, pulling her close ‘I’m all yours. Now we do exactly as we please – nobody to hear us, no deadlines for mealtimes, no polite conversations. Just you and me’  He looked searchingly into her eyes, his voice a whisper.

She smiled back at him, leaning in slowly until their lips met for a long lingering kiss before they started to work on undressing each other one item at a time, caressing newly exposed skin until they were naked. The fire crackled and their breath changed from soft sighs and moans to shuddering gasps. Their fingers glided and stroked and pressed, anticipation spicing the tingles and heated sensations coursing through their bodies and consuming their thoughts.

Drake kissed along the top of Riley’s shoulder, tracing down her breastbone and belly, backing her to the low bed until she sat, dropping to his knees in front of her. He paused to take in her naked body in the flickering firelight, as she too looked down at him, then leaned forward for another searing kiss. He half stood, putting his knee between hers and gently pushing her back so she crawled up the bed to lie on her back. He hovered over her on hands and knees and dove to kiss her neck, peppering her body with light presses of his lips and little nips of his teeth so she laughed and writhed underneath him.

She pushed at him, guiding him so he lay on his back and it was she who hovered over him, greedily drinking in his naked torso – the broad chest with its smattering of dark hair, the flat belly, the triangle of his hips, his erect member waiting to do her bidding. She crawled down the bed to take him into her mouth, sucking and massaging with her tongue. His hips bucked underneath her, his fingers raking her scalp.

‘Jesus, Riley’ he hissed ‘Slow down, there’s no hurry’ He felt the vibration of her laugh and threw his head back, trying to take his mind off what her mouth was doing to him, reciting the list of Kings and Queens of Cordonia over the centuries. Suddenly she stopped and crawled up the bed over him, her breasts brushing his chest, hair tickling his collarbone, pressing her lips to his and straddling him teasingly.

‘Do you want me?’ she breathed in his ear.

‘Fuck yes, Brookes’

‘Are you sure there’s nothing else you want to do?’ she teased ‘no more stargazing?’

‘The only stars you’ll be seeing will be with your eyes closed’ he growled, trying to flip her over, but she resisted and they wrestled for dominance for a moment before he finally won, pinning her onto the mattress. She gazed up at him, biting her lip mischievously

‘no more games’ he growled ‘no more teasing – tell me you want me’

‘I want you Drake’ she murmured, and he needed no further encouragement. He lined himself up and eased in a little at a time. She lay under him, gasping and lightly raking his back with her nails. As soon as he had entered her fully, he drew out and paused so she writhed underneath him, trying to pull him into her, whimpering with need. He relented from teasing and drove into her, feeling her wet tightness envelop him over and over again, building up speed as she rose up to meet every stroke. The air was warm from the fire, the light dancing over bare flesh as they moved together, becoming engrossed in each other, totally in unity. Together they moved closer to the edge, moving as one, exploding into bliss together, sweat sheening their skin as they cried out and gasped and slowed and came to a stop. Drake rolled off to her side, reaching for tissues to clean up. When they had done that, they drew back the bedclothes to huddle together and fall asleep in the warmth of the fire, the sky outside dark and peppered with stars.

Next Chapter 8b Deeper and Closer

[soul-music-is-life]

Can u please write a short fluffy happy prompt of Emily returning from the army and meeting Alison and her kids in the airport??

Little late on the Christmas deadline, but two people asked for a prompt for the holidays. So Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Maybe next year Santa/the Hanukkah Beagle shouldn’t use USPS, cuz those presents are ALWAYS late…

You can read it on Fanfic (or, as always...below the cut)

***

Grace had insisted on blue. Lily wanted pink. They’d settled on purple. They had managed to get most of the marker on the poster board. Their little fingers ended up covered in glitter and glue. The first ‘e’ in “Welcome” was backwards and the ‘o’ in “home” had gotten smudged. But when they looked at Alison and asked,

“How does it look, mommy?”

Alison said, “Perfect.”

Because it was. They had made it with love. They were so excited that their mama was coming home.

***

The flight had been nerve-wracking. It’s not like Emily hadn’t flown before. She was used to it. It wasn’t the actual plane ride itself. She was having trouble shaking off the residual anxiety she had from being in combat. She was also anxious to hold her babies and kiss her wife again. She spent the entire flight thinking about them. She couldn’t wait to see them again.

When the plane was approaching Rosewood Emily opened the window shade and looked at her town below. When the aircraft started its descent Emily could see the clouds, as soft as white mountain peaks covered in snow. The wings sliced through them as though they were nothing. She could see the bulbous shadows hovering above the ground.

She felt something brush against her arm on the armrest. When she looked over her shoulder she saw the little girl next to her sitting up high in her seat, trying to look out the window. She had been playing games on the screen in the seat in front of her the entire trip, but now that the window was open she was trying to get a better look at what was happening outside. 

“Can I see?” she batted her big blue eyes at Emily. She had her little palms against Emily’s arm.

Her mother looked over and saw the little girl practically climbing over on to Emily.

“Amelia, honey, what did we talk about earlier? It’s not polite to touch people without asking first.” She faced Emily. “I’m sorry. She doesn’t understand boundaries yet.”

“It’s okay. I get it. I’ve got two girls around her age.” Emily smiled.

“Must be hard to be away from them.”

There was an unspoken understanding between the two mothers.

“Yeah. They grow up so fast.” Emily looked at Amelia, who was oblivious to the adults talking around her.

“Amy, you remember how we talked about how some mommies and daddies have to spend time away from their babies to be somewhere else to protect us?”

“Uh huh.”

“What do we say, do you remember?”

The little girl looked at Emily’s uniform and it registered. She smiled at Emily and leaned up on her knees.

“Thank you for your service.”

Emily had to bite back tears. It was such a sweet and simple gesture. And it was something that she’d obviously learned from caring parents. It made her realize how much of her daughters’ lives she was missing. She had been gone for nine months. What had she missed in that time?

“You’re very welcome.”

“I like your pins.” Amelia pointed to Emily’s medals.

There was one medal she hadn’t gotten in person yet. It was one that Alison didn’t know about. It was the reason she was coming home.

Her purple heart.

She’d been injured by a roadside bomb. Fortunately, no one had been killed, though they had been ambushed after the attack. She’d suffered three broken ribs, mild burns on her side, two fractures in her arm, and a laceration on her right hand. She’d managed to pull three of her squad members to safety even with her injuries.

She was healing up nicely. She’d mentioned the ambush to Alison, but she had downplayed her injuries and told her that she was okay, which was the truth. 

She didn’t realize that her commanding officer was going to give her the option to be medically discharged due to the nature of the problems her injuries might cause in the future. She didn’t know that nearly being blown up was going to bring her closer to her family.

The little girl was squirming in her seat, trying harder and harder to look out the window.

“She’s welcome to sit on my lap if you’re okay with it.” Emily offered.

“It’s fine with me.”

Emily helped the little girl into her lap and they looked out the window. They watched as the buildings and streets turned from tiny blips into shapes and images they could actually recognize. She held her, pointing to the landmarks below, until the “fasten seatbelt” sign came on. Then she helped her get settled back into her seat.

Landing was always the hardest part. She knew from experience that take-offs and landings were generally the most dangerous parts of the flight. But when she looked outside at her town, her home, she couldn’t feel anything but excitement.

***

The airport was lined with people, a sea of faces all moving in waves to their next destination. Some were rushing. Some were sitting and sleeping in chairs. Others were waiting in the crowd for their loves ones.

Alison held the twins’ hands firmly as they moved through the crowds. One of her biggest fears was losing one or both of them in a busy place.

“I don’t see mama.” Grace whined, twisting the poster board with her fingers.

“She’s still coming home, right?” Lily looked at Alison, a sad look of fear in her eyes.

Sometimes the girls worried that they’d never see their mama again. They didn’t know the extent of what Emily did, but she and Emily had had the conversation with the girls that sometimes mama would be in situations where she had to help others, but that she would always do her best to come back safe and sound.

Alison looked up at the plasma screens that showed the arrival and departure times. Emily’s plane was at its gate. She would be coming towards them any minute. She felt a bubbling sensation in her stomach she hadn’t had since she was in high school. She hadn’t seen Emily in nine months. It felt like forever. She couldn’t wait to hold her again.

“She should be here soon.” Alison assured the girls.

“I wanna hold the sign.” Lily reached for the folded up poster board.

“No! I want to!”

They were both cranky, because they’d fought in the car on the way over. Alison told them to behave and that they could both hold it. They each stood on one side and held the sign up, but it kept flopping forward, so Alison ended up holding the damn thing while the twins pretended they were the ones holding it up.

A crowd of passengers rounded the corner and started walking towards them. They dispersed, finding their family members. Alison watched everyone hugging and it made her antsy. She wanted to be in Emily’s arms. She wanted to kiss her wife…to touch her cheek…to bathe in her aroma.

It was the twins who spotted her first. The uniform was a dead giveaway. Grace squealed and Lily shouted “mama!!”

Emily turned and saw them and she felt her heart melting. She saw the large childlike letters on the poster board covered in sparkles and glitter. They had drawn hearts around their simple message.

“Welcome Home Mama. We Love You.” 

The twins were supposed to stand behind the roped off security line, but they forgot everything they’d been told to do when they saw Emily’s face. They dropped the poster and raced forward before Alison could grab them.

No one in security stopped them. In fact, one of the men in uniform walked over to where Alison was standing and unlatched the rope to let her through so she could be with her family.

Emily dropped her bag and fell to her knees as the twins ran into her arms, both of them crying ‘mama!’ so loudly that everyone in the airport turned to see the commotion. She didn’t even feel the tightness of her still healing injuries. All she felt was her children’s love.

Grace and Lily wrapped their arms around her neck. She reached up and gripped the backs of their heads with her palms and peppered them with kisses.

“Hi, babies.”

Emily was not someone who cried easily. She’d been through a lot in her life and some of it had hardened her. She had a tight lid on her emotions. But she was a sucker for her kids. And the second she had them in her arms she crumbled, burying her face in between their necks, letting her tears fall down her face.

“Oh, I missed you so much.”

“We missed you, mama.” Lily pulled back. “Why are you crying? Are you sad?”

“No.” Emily reached up to wipe away her tears. “No, I’m crying because I’m so happy to see you.”

They had gotten so big. She felt like she hadn’t seen them in years. Being overseas away from her family was hard. She didn’t know how much she was missing until she had them in her arms. It was like a piece of her she didn’t even know was gone had been returned to her.

She saw Alison approaching. She gripped Lily and Grace and picked them both up, putting one on each hip just like she’d done since they were babies. She instinctively moved forward towards Alison and their lips met. Alison put her palm against Emily’s face and thumbed away a stray tear.

“Hey.” Emily pecked her lips again.

Alison tasted as sweet as she remembered. She couldn’t believe she was here. She couldn’t believe she was with her family again. She had a new appreciation for what her mother and father must have felt like every time they reunited.

Alison wrapped her arms around her wife and children. Her body melded into Emily’s, as if they were a perfect fit, even with their children…especially with their children. They stayed in their embrace for several minutes.

They could hear the applause and the cheers of the other passengers in the airport, but they still felt like they were in their own little world.

Grace started wiggling and wanted down. She was suddenly on a tangent about how she wanted to show Emily their poster, which was sitting on top of a counter over by the security area.

Emily put Lily and Grace down, which gave their mothers a moment of intimacy without them. Emily reached up and cupped Alison’s cheeks. The blonde’s eyes were brimming with tears. She couldn’t contain her emotions any longer.

“I missed you so much,” Alison sobbed with a smile on her face. She was so happy to see her…alive…home in one piece.

Emily wiped away Alison’s tears with her fingers and pressed her lips against Alison’s once more. Their noses touched. Their foreheads met. They took a moment just to hold one another.

“Mama.” Lily tugged on Emily’s hand.

Emily forced herself to pry her eyes away from Alison’s and look down at her little girls. 

“Can we go home now?” Lily asked.

Emily leaned down again, giving the twins another opportunity to hug her neck. She picked them up, balancing them on her hips. She snuggled Lily and then Grace. They both giggled.

“I want to hear all about what you two have been doing while I’ve been away.”

She carried them as far as the food court. The second they saw ice cream they were begging for sugar. Alison and Emily bought them each a cone and they walked out of the airport together. They’d both inhaled their treats by the time they got to the car. Their moms got them situated in their booster seats. Emily threw her bags in the back and then climbed up front with Alison.

She took a moment to appreciate where she was. It was something so simple…sitting in the car with her wife and her children. But it was something she knew a lot of people took for granted. She didn’t want to miss a single second.

“So.” Alison put her hand down against the center console. “How long are you staying?”

Emily hadn’t told her the good news. She’d wanted to see the look on Alison’s face when she told her she was coming home for good.

Emily reached down and took Alison’s hand, linking their fingers together. She smiled.

“How about forever?”

[lokisgame]

A Generous Donation [8]

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7]

Mulder woke up to music and the scent of coffee, remembering last night and grinning like a madman. "I died and went to heaven," he said to the ceiling and got up. Though his neck and shoulder echoed a little, life still felt pretty good. He pulled a clean tee and jeans from the chest of drawers and headed for the shower. Pans and plates from in the kitchen told him she wasn't going anywhere.

Ten minutes later, he padded downstairs to see the living room straightened and Scully, by the stove in nothing but his yesterdays' t-shirt. Tips of her hair were wet and she swayed to Marley on the stereo. 'Is this love that I'm feeling' "From your mouth to God's ears, Bob," he thought.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, Mulder wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in, moving with her as he kissed her cheek. "Good morning." "Hey, you sleep like a deadman," she breathed, leaning into him as he moved to her neck. "Rarely." Scully chuckled, squirming but not pulling back. "Do you ever shave?" "First Monday after fool moon, otherwise no." "So I'm stuck with a lumberjack," she said then turned and saw his smile ready to land on her mouth. His lips were soft and his hand on her ass felt warm and she forgot the scratchy beard, bending backwards and holding on, because he was just so tall. "I'll shave, right now," he said, breaking the kiss, rocking her to the music. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back down. "On second thought, I like my man rugged sometimes." "Yeah? Then how about." Mulder bent his knees and grabbed her waist. "No, wait!" Floor vanished from under her feet and she grabbed his shoulders for balance, laughing, and a second later she was sitting on the counter, next to buttermilk and flour, trapped between his arms. "Pancakes will burn," she warned. "No they won't," he said giving the pan a little stir and cranking down the burner. Then hands framing her cheeks, he kissed her for real, slow and sweet but building as she drew him in.   "There's some frozen bagels in the freezer, if you want," he breathed finally, keeping his forehead pressed against hers. "Cream cheese?" "Obviously." "Didn't find any." "Has to be," he frowned and let go to rummage through the fridge, "I swear I bought it last time." Scully hopped off the table and turned the heat back up under the pan, while around her doors banged open and closed. "There you are! Fraternising with the mayo, huh?" She laughed and he was back, bumping her away from the stove. "These will need a minute," he said loading four bagels into the oven. "You're surprisingly apt in the kitchen." "Well, at some point, I told myself that it's time to stop living like a frat boy and start behaving like a man." He got up and pulled two mugs from the cupboard above the coffee machine. "What kind of man can't feed himself." "An average man." Mulder chuckled filling her mug then handed it to her. "Well, then I'm an alien." "You're a role model," she took the mug and watched him take a sip. "Damn, you make a fine cup of coffee," he grinned, pecked her cheek and went to get the paper.

"So this is what you do," she said looking at the book in her hands. "It's a hobby." "Nine hundred pages, quite an extensive hobby, "I Want To Believe. A Psychologist's Take." "Yeah, it's kind of hard, to put it all in one book and still do the subject justice." "What is it about?" "People's stories mostly, self-proclaimed alien abductees, cryptozoologists, conspiracy theorists, your average outcast." "And the psychologist's take?" "I wanted to give these people some background, explain why they need to believe what they believe in, why the world dismisses and ridicules them, how it affects their lives and why they keep doing it anyway. Some of them are dreamers, some are scared for their lives and some went through things so bizarre that it's almost impossible to imagine, unless you're Steven Spielberg, on crack." "This is the book Will was raving about all summer." "Must have found a copy at the library." "Can I borrow it?" "Keep it, I've got a box of them in the basement." "I bet you give a copy to every girlfriend." "No," he chuckled, "not really." She folded herself beside him on the couch and he took the book from her, opening it on the fist page and signing it with a flourish before giving it back. Scully glanced at the inscription. "Hey, it says William, I thought it was for me." "You get the author," he smiled and pulled her legs over his lap, toppling them over, mouth on hers again. "I really should be going," she said a good while later, flushed and warm, tangled with him in the cramped space, again. "Will needs his mom," he agreed, doing absolutely nothing to let go. "My mom," Scully whined and hid her face in his chest. "She always goes to see him after church, and she'll be there today and nag me about the foundation thing." "What foundation thing." "She wants me to look for a donor through a foundation, and what she means by it, is that we should pay someone off and get Will bumped up the waiting list." "Is that even legal?" "No, but that's my mom for you, lie, cheat and steal for those she loves." "You blame her?" "No, but I don't want to think about it, unless I have absolutely no other choice." "Let me know if I can help." "You already helped," he mumbled into his tee, pulling him closer and his arms tightened around her, solid and undemanding. "You're easy to please." Scully laughed and made herself let go. "Okay, time to face the day." "You go girl." He said and sat up with her. He watched her gather her things, pull on her boots and stash the book in her bag. "The dish, hold on." He went to the kitchen and met her at the door. "Thank you for dinner, and breakfast," he said leaning in to kiss her gently, "and everything in between." "We should do it again sometime." "I have these papers to grade," "And I have to face my mom and see my son," "But tonight," "Eight o'clock?" "Your place." "My place." "I'll bring food." "Good man." She smiled, climbing on tiptoes to kiss him one last time, at least for now.

She had a nice lunch with Will, who was thrilled about the book, stroking its' glossy sleeve and the UFO hovering above the trees on it. "It's sold out everywhere, how did you get it?" "Had to pull some strings." "I bet you did," Will grinned wickedly and pulled on the collar on her shirt, revealing a bright pink bruise on her skin. "You're too young to know about that." She said, feeling the blush creep in as she swatted his hand aside. "About what?" Will smiled and the smile changed before her eyes. She knew them all, grins and smirks and beams and pouts, but now, with that wicked glint in his eye. "It's signed!" He exclaimed, before she could pin the thought down. "C'mon, he's your professor." "I couldn't ask for an autograph, that's embarrassing." "Well, good thing your mother isn't as proud." "I have the best mom," he said in a sing-song voice, hugging her tight for a brief second. "Now leave me, I want to read this." "You're crazy," she laughed. "Yup," Will grinned and opened the book and began to read.

Mulder showed up at 8, with a bag of Thai takeout and a six-pack of Shiner. "Damn, you're hot," she said, pulling him inside and straight into her arms, feeling him fumble with the bags and not giving a damn. "And you shaved," she grinned a moment later. "Well, you asked so nicely," he said and pulled her back in. "Okay, food first," she laughed surfacing and pushing him away, uselessly. "Hmmm, I dunno," Mulder mused, hands starting to roam. "You trust me?" "Yeah," "Then food first." He sighed, keeping her in his arms. "Fine, how's Will?" "He's fine, loved the book." "Happy to hear that." He stole a kiss and only then let her go. "And he's totally onto us," she said, taking the bag from him. Mulder chuckled, shrugging out off his jacket and following her into the kitchen. "Smart kid."

"How did this happen?" Scully mused stretched out on Mulders' chest, stomach full and every fibre of her body relaxed. "What happened?" "I know that my life may fall apart, that my son is in a hospital, hooked up to an IV, fighting for his life," she said, laying down her head on his shoulder, "but you make it all bearable, for the first time in weeks, I don't feel like I'm drowning." "I live to serve," he whispered, stroking her hair. "You'll get through this, both of you." "Can you promise me that?" "No, but I can help you believe." He said, completely honest and it was exactly what she needed to hear. "Will you stay tonight?" "I've got class at 10." "And I need to be at the hospital around 9." "So, what are we going to do with all that time?" "We'll think of something," she said and puled herself up to reach his mouth. Her last thought was that, between him and Will, she might need a longer couch.

The next morning, Scully sat in her car, waving Mulder goodbye as he drove off, when her phone pinged with an email notification.

From: W.Skinner@transplantation.bostongen.com To: D.Scully@neurology.bostongen.com Subject: URGENT good news Dr. Scully We need to talk. Meet me ASAP. Walter

She pulled out from the parking spot and all but stomped on the gas pedal.

[angrylizardjacket]

Run to Paradise {Nikki Sixx} Part 4

4. break up with your girlfriend ‘cos i’m bored

Chapter Summary: settling into a new apartment and a new routine and frank’s got a new girlfriend and an old habit that gets objectively worse in a new situation.

Warnings: renamed; formerly Platinum. Vaguely NSFW, maybe a bit rambly as it was written at 3am

ragtag bunch of misfits: @starlalove @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies @missqueeniewrites @calspixie @aryssav @catsoo12

{masterlist}

For a month, actually two and a half, everything's fine, everything's great, everything stagnates between them; yeah they get each other off more often than people who consider each other Just Friends technically should but it's not something either of them feels the need to dwell on.

Lola, true to her word, got a job; she's a maid at a shitty little motel that doesn't ask too many questions and pays her in cash. Between the band's earnings and Lola's crappy income, she and Frank are only sleeping in the back of the van for two months before they've managed to rent what is quite possibly the shittiest apartment in LA, and they're ecstatic about it.

The singer is gracious enough to lend them the mattress from the back of the van, which they put on the floor in the bedroom of their new place. For the first few weeks, there's milk crates rather than a coffee table, and plastic folding chairs in lieu of a sofa, and a friend of a friend of a friend gives them a bar fridge at a good price when they can't afford a full fridge. Their closet consists of a pile of clothes in the corner of the bedroom and arguments over who's black jeans are who's, and hey, they even had a jukebox and speakers; granted the lid for the jukebox was smashed and it needed a new needle, and the speakers were found a few weeks later and needed a bit of rewiring, but it's home.

And it's perfect.

It takes some getting used to, because yeah they don't technically have to pay for gas or water or power; they're in an apartment block, but rent alone eats up most of their 'budget', as if they know what that is, and there's definitely nights where there's nothing but stale beer in the fridge and tensions are high. The kitchen staff at Lola's work take a liking to her, take pity on her and feed her when they can, for which she is grateful, and they both drink for free at the bar a few blocks away, as long as Frank's band keeps playing there. They make it work.

Lola's learned to enjoy her own company, spending her days off alone in the apartment while Frank goes to band practice, learned to spend nights alone when he's off with - well he won't call her his girlfriend, but it certainly seems like it; Annie, she likes that he's in a band, and apparently she likes his music. Lola has a sneaking suspicion that he just likes her because she puts out. Annie doesn't like that he lives with Lola, though this amuses Lola more than anything else. And honestly, yeah, Annie has every reason to not like Lola, especially since, while things haven't exactly gone further between Frank and Lola, they also haven't slowed down.

Band practice ended early this Sunday, and when Frank gets back to the flat, Lola's passed out on the mattress, basking in a mid-afternoon nap, wearing only a t-shirt and a pair of panties, her usual pyjama attire, her skin golden in the sunlight; it's been a long week for both of them, they'd dragged a sofa from the curb up to their apartment only half an hour before Lola had to be at work yesterday, he won't begrudge her a rest. In fact, he kicks off his shoes and finds himself flopping down beside her.

"Practice good?" So it turns out she's not as passed out as he thought, and she rolls over to give him a sleepy smile. He shrugs noncommittally, and that's when Lola shifts to rest her head on his chest, "not great?" Though her voice is innocent, she's already ghosting her fingers lazily across his stomach, teasing the sliver of exposed skin where his shirt had lifted.

"We're gonna start recording some stuff soon, but, I don't know," he played along, as if trying to ignore her fingers dancing every closer to the waistband of his jeans. "I'm staying at Annie's tonight." Her hand stills where it's come to rest by his belt buckle.

"So?"

"So, you gonna promise to not leave any marks?" He snickered, and Lola's fingers began to unclasp his belt.

"You like my hickeys," she says breezily, though his hand grabs hers, and in a flurry of movement, Lola finds herself on her back, the hand pinned to the shitty mattress, Frank sitting on her bare thighs; he was smirking and didn't seem like he was going to move anytime soon,  "gimme a break," she huffed, and her next words come out as more of a whine than she intends them to, "I feel like I haven't seen you in ages." It borders on needy, and when she wiggles a little, as if to add emphasis, Frank's mouth goes dry.

"You saw me yesterday," he raised an eyebrow and Lola wrinkles her nose, but doesn't answer. "I don't have a lot of time- is that my shirt?" When he sees her pleased little grin, the way she tugs at the bottom of the shirt to show off the logo of the shirt that was obviously too big for her, something about it sets Frank's heart beating at a rhythm that was painfully familiar by now. Instead of saying anything, he grins, shakes his head, and hooks his thumb in the waistband of her panties.

"This is why your girlfriend hates me," but it's said with such confidence that he actually laughs, moving off of her, coming to settle with his head between her thighs, "I mean, she has every right to."

"This isn't why she hates you," Frank gives her an amused look, which Lola misses with her head back against the pillows. She threads her fingers through his hair, guides him insistently, which would be amusing if it wasn't sort of really hot.

"Yeah but it should be."

It's so damn easy to be the bad guy and forget it means anything, especially when she's enabling him like this. Lola's whimpers are like music, neither quiet nor apologetic for enjoying what the does to her, and Frank knows in his heart that Annie will never compare in a moment like this. Except he likes both girls for different reasons, it's not a fair comparison; Annie's beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, she genuinely loves his music, his style, and she's into some pretty freaky stuff, which he appreciates. And Lola's pretty, not as objectively pretty as Annie, but something about the way she smiles, how warm she is when she crawls into bed after a long day of work, the way she puts up with him and his empty fridge and how they both know he's leading her on a bit- he keeps both girls around for different reasons. Except Lola knows this, actually seems pretty okay with it. Annie doesn't, and probably isn't okay with it.

"So it's okay for you to leave hickeys?" Lola scoffs, a little out of breath and hips bucking as she tries to get more friction against his fingers as he sucks a dark hickey into her inner thigh.

"Get a boyfriend, maybe I'll be more careful," is his response, and something about the phrase seems to do something for her as Lola's head drops back against the pillows as her hips roll, swears whispered like prayers from her lips.

It's so easy to be the bad guy. To enjoy it. And Frank's pretty sure he's not alone in that sentiment.

And when he leaves the apartment, Lola's already asleep. It's easier to sleep than it is to ignore the way her stomach rumbles, and she can get lunch at work tomorrow. Sleep just makes that come sooner.

Annie's at the apartment a lot more than Lola would like; she never stays over because she refuses to sleep on the grubby mattress she would also have to share with Lola - "No I'm not moving; I live here too." / "You're a brat." - but she's taken to just hanging out. The thing is, however, that Lola doesn't actually hate Annie the way Annie hates Lola; Lola knows where she stands in a way that Annie doesn't, and if she's being cruel and honest, she can tell Frank isn't invested in Annie in the long term, Lola's got the smugness that comes with security.

Annie doesn't stay long, neither does the slew of women that follow as the months pass by, but soon they have furniture in their apartment, still mostly from various curbs and not a lot of food in the fridge, but they haven't gotten sick of each other or killed each other by the time six months rolls around, which is honestly better than either was expecting. It helps, Lola thinks, that she's still not slept with him. It's the actual reason she doesn't begrudge his girlfriends; she's not one-hundred-percent the bad guy as long as she doesn't go all the way with him.

Despite this, along the way she's pretty sure she's fallen in love with the way he smiles in the morning and the way his breath catches in his throat when he's close and he's got his hands fisted in her hair, and perhaps everything in between.

But he keeps dating other girls; if he wanted her, he'd have her, she knows this. So they keep fooling around; she puts her and enjoyment over those other girls', she lets herself be selfish.

Yet he knows that if he had her, truly had her, emotions and all, he risks their whole friendship. And he's not willing to risk that, so he lets himself be selfish too.