#steven always grumbles but quietly does it

[steven-with-a-british-accent]

wake up

moon knight season 2 will be announced at d23 (in 2 weeks).

if it isn't announced, i owe you all a kidney

[topperscumslut]

My Idiot (Jay Kelso x Reader)

Summary: Reader is Hyde’s daughter and staying with the Formans while he’s in jail, the new generation has a sleepover at the Forman’s house and there’s only one bed for Jay and (Y/N)… Note: Jaya (JayxLeia) does not exist in this imagine

Word count: 1k

“Okay you guys,” Leia said with a deep breath, “Grandma and grandpa actually said you guys can stay the night, so we can’t screw this up. I’m staying in my dad’s old room and (Y/N) is staying in Aunt Laurie’s old room, as usual. Can you guys all find somewhere to sleep in the basement?”

“Sounds good to me,” Ozzie popped up.

“Nikki and I can take the couch,” Nate said.

“Yeah, that should work,” Gwen added, “it just sucks that Jay isn’t here.”

You nodded half heartedly. Your best friend - and crush - Jay Kelso was working a long night shift at the video store, and you were bummed that he was missing your first (and probably only, considering how Red Forman was) sleepover with the gang.

Almost like clockwork, the basement door opened.

“Hey guys!” A familiar voice spoke up. Jay’s voice. “They let me off early,” he said as his eyes briefly floated to where you were sitting on the floor, then shyly finding their way back to the rest of the group.

“Well shit,” Leia sighed, “I mean, we’re glad you’re here! But Red let us have a sleepover for once, and I don’t think there will be enough room in the basement for you…”

“Well that’s not convenient,” Jay said with a flat face, sheepishly sitting down next to you.

“Hold on you guys, I’ll be right back. I don’t imagine in a thousand years my grandpa would let you stay in my room, but I have a couch and (Y/N) doesn’t, and I don’t want to make her offer her bed to you if she isn’t okay with it.”

You shifted awkwardly, silently hoping you could share your bed with Jay. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind if we have to…” you trailed on quietly, Jay looking at you shyly, his cheeks noticeably heating up.

The rest of the group hadn’t heard you but Jay had sitting so close to you. “You sure?” he asked and you nodded, lacking the courage to look at him.

Leia ran upstairs and it only took a few seconds before you heard the booming sound of Red yelling.

“If that boy goes even close to your bedroom, my foot is going even closer to up his ass! Absolutely not!”

Leia hurried down the stairs with a defeated look on her face. “So that’s a no go. (Y/N), are you sure you’re ok with sharing a bed with Jay?”

You shrugged, now bright red. “Yeah, sure, I don’t mind.”

The seven of you spent the rest of the night together, laughing, watching My So Called Life, and getting high, before finally around midnight you all started to crash.

“Should we call it a night, you guys?” you asked through a yawn, anxious to spend the night with Jay.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Yep.”

“I’m tired.”

“Well, goodnight you guys,” Leia spoke, “see you all in the morning.” With that you, Leia, and Jay stumbled your way upstairs while the others stayed in the basement getting comfy.

You quickly brushed your teeth and got cleaned up for bed, putting on your favorite lacy nightgown, your heart beating out of your chest before you heard your name called from downstairs.

“Y/N! I need to talk to you!”

Shit. It was Red.

You made your way down the stairs, feigning sobriety, into the Forman living room.

“Yes Mr. Forman?”

“Sit down.”

“You know (Y/N), I remember your father sitting on this exact same couch when he was your age. He was a good kid, even with all the dope he did. He was nice to people.” Red sighed, “I remember that boy’s father too, and how he used to fool around with young girls like you, even my own daughter.”

“But Jay isn’t like-“

“I know, I know, that kid hardly knows his own father. But as you’ve been staying with Kitty and I, you’ve become like another grandkid to us. I always feared I’d be raising Steven’s kids…” he grumbled. “No funny business in there, okay? You’re better than to be screwing a Kelso. I know you think no one’s caught onto your little crush on this boy, but I’ve seen these things before. And if he so much as lays a finger on you, my foot will go so far up his ass he won’t even be able to feel his fingers!”

“We’ll be good,” you smiled, rolling your eyes. “Now goodnight.”

“Goodnight (Y/N).”

You hurried back up the stairs to find Jay already all cozied up in your bed.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

His eyes scanned your body in awe and he hid a smile as you made your way into bed.

You both squirmed awkwardly for a little while, not talking, not looking at each other, and especially not touching.

“I’m sorry (Y/N), I’ll try to let you sleep. I know you didn’t really want me in here…”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I could tell you were uncomfortable in the basement and just trying to be nice. I can sleep in the living room if you wa-“

You shut him up by kissing him, to his surprise. Jay closed his eyes and let himself melt into the kiss. It was slow and sweet, innocent, loving.

“Of course I want you here. I was nervous because I have a crush on you, doofus.”

“Well you could’ve just said that,” he laughed. “But, uh, I’m glad you didn’t. I have a crush on you too. Have for a while,” he smirked, kissing you again.

You laughed as the kiss ended, rubbing noses together. “Go to bed, idiot.”

He cuddled his way into you, pulling you in by your waist and spooning you, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I may be an idiot, but I’m your idiot.”

You smiled, cheeks turning a baby pink, still not sure if this was all really happening. “Yeah, Jay, you’re my idiot.”

[whatthefishh]

Happy Halloween, Steven

Steven Grant x F!Reader

Summary: this was supposed to be a fluff piece and then I thought about how Steven would look in his costume and how I'd probably react to it so. You guys get light smut.

Warnings: 18+, smut, heavy petting, handjob, jealous coworkers lol

Author's note: Thanks to @villainvindicator and @kittyofalltrades for helping me decide how to go about certain parts of this story :) xo

Jake is written in bold, Marc in italics, sorry if its OOC I was just having the best time writing this LOL

Word count: 2.5k

This wasn’t really how Steven imagined the annual Halloween party the National Gallery threw for its staff to go, but let’s just say he was over the moon with how his night was going.

The entire staff was being forced to go. Steven didn’t necessarily dislike parties but he wasn’t the best in social settings either. He felt a little better going to outings with Marc and Jake around now, it felt like he wasn’t going entirely alone. Plus, he did really enjoy Halloween. 

Although Marc grumbled the whole week leading up to the party about having to dress up and how lame he thinks it all is, Jake was quietly supportive of Steven putting himself out there more and more. Especially since he picked up on his little crush on you.

Jake noticed that every time you’d rush by the gift shop, piles of paperwork haphazardly collected in your arms, heels clicking on the floors trying to make it to your destination without bumping into anyone, Steven would stop whatever he was doing and just blankly follow your movements with his eyes until you were gone. This happened maybe a handful of times per day, and every time it was the same: Steven would longfully gaze after you, sigh dramatically and then return his attention back to the task at hand. Marc usually mentally clocked out when Steven literally clocked in, so only Jake really knew about this little reaction Steven had towards you aka dopey heart eyes anytime you were in the vicinity. 

Tonight’s party was a Halloween costume party, being held in the gallery’s dining hall, but it was supposed to be decked out by the party planning committee. Steven was slightly bitter towards the committee, led by Donna, since they didn’t let him help when he offered. You were on it, too, which was honestly part of the reason why he offered to help to begin with, hoping to get a word in with you, but Donna quickly interrupted your conversation to shut him down as rudely as she always does. 

Steven had his costume picked out for a while, thinking it made him look bloody handsome, if he did say so himself. Jake helped him style his hair into a neater, slicked back look instead of his usual unruly curls to better match the outfit. Marc teased Steven saying that he was trying too hard for a bunch of coworkers that didn’t give a shit if he showed or not. Needless to say, Steven did not like that. 

“Oi! Just because Donna’s insufferable, doesn’t mean they all are! There are some people I actually like at work.” 

Yeah you’re a real social butterfly.

Marc, stop being such a culo. Steven, you better talk to her tonight.

Oh? This whole getup is for a girl?

Steven has to admit when he purchased his Captain Hook costume, the idea of you and what you would possibly dress up as dipped into his daydreams enough times. The shopkeeper looked entirely too thrilled when Steven tried on the black pleather pants, maroon vest and long black overcoat complete with gold hardware detailing and a fake sword for his belt. He also pressured him into buying some cheap eyeliner to drive the pirate look home. It was definitely not Steven’s first choice (initially he’d asked for Prince Charming) but upon looking at himself in the tri-fold mirror and seeing how the tight pleather pants made his thighs and rear look, he readily agreed, secretly hoping it would catch your attention. 

If we’re gonna be here, at least we look good. 

Deep breath, hermano. Look, there she is. 

Again, WHO?

As soon as Steven walked in, it was almost magnetic how his eyes zeroed in on you; animatedly describing something with your hands to the angel with bright white, oversized wings next to you over the blaring dance music. His eyes widened and mouth dropped open slightly once he took in the sight of you, in a tiny, tiny sparkly, green number, hem cut in a zigzag pattern, clear high heels to give the illusion that you were floating, with petite green wings to match. The dress was much shorter than he expected to see you in, especially for a work party, but he was guessing you probably didn’t realize the effect it was having on those around you and honestly? He’s not complaining because where the hell have you been hiding those legs this whole time?! 

He was beginning to attract attention just standing at the door of the hall, yet again caught staring at you with a dopey look on his face. It didn’t occur to Steven that he could be attracting attention because of how damn fine he looked tonight, pleasantly surprising some of the staff with his defined muscles on display with his costume choice - the pleather didn’t leave much up to imagination. He quickly made his way over to the food table, as one does with anxiety at a party, and scoured the table for vegan friendly options with shaking hands. Why did he come to this party again? What if nobody talked to him? What if he made a fool out of himself? Why did he think this costume was a good idea? They probably think he looks ridiculous, that's why they’re all staring…

Fighting the urge to nervously run his hands through his gelled hair, Steven stood fidgeting with his jacket and finally looked around the room to catch a handful of the more forward women blatantly staring at him bent over the table stacking his plate sky high, promptly choking on his food at the numerous eyes on him. Rushing to the punch bowl in an attempt to wash his food down before he further embarrassed himself, he didn’t notice you also approaching and narrowly avoided bumping into you. 

“Are you…alright? Steven, right?” you asked just as he managed to gulp down half his cup of punch, nearly causing him to choke again as he swiveled around to face you. 

“Uh hiya, yeah I’m Steven, Steven is me,” he tried to laugh at the end of that horrible, horrible introduction. He already knew your name, but pretended to ask anyway so as not to seem like a creep, which you confirmed with an easy smile. He tried so desperately not to look away from your face while you were talking but it was proving to be challenging, especially now that Marc perked up at your presence. 

This is her? He playfully laughed. Steven, where have you been hiding this little nymph?

Steven wasn’t that guy, he would not be the guy caught staring at your breasts while you were showing him kindness and striking up a conversation by the punch bowl, like the nice girl he was sure you were, he would not, could not blow this chance with you. But God was it making him break a sweat at the effort. He tried to focus on some part of your face so that his gaze wouldn’t stray but then he got caught up in your eyes and the meticulous makeup you applied that accentuated the soft glow of your skin, trailing down to the perfect pink pout you wore tonight and-

She’s asking you a question, cabrón.

Ah, shit, he was not listening. Did you know he wasn’t listening? He thinks he’s ruined it now, for sure. His eyes betrayed his inner turmoil and panic, quickly making his whole demeanor tense which you picked up on with concern and asked again, “You sure you’re alright?” You ask as you move closer to him. He’s tall enough to see down your dress now and he quickly closes his eyes and inhales deeply. 

This is torture. There’s a promising pink flush gracing your cheeks when he opens his eyes to look down at you. The track changes, something with a heavier bass starting up.

Do not. Fuck. This up, Steven. She’s hot, and likes what she sees.

Sí, parece que le gustas, this might work. 

“Y-yeah, m’alright, more than actually,” he says, schooling his features into what he thinks is a coy smile but on Steven’s open and honest face just screams ‘I really like how close you’re standing next to me’. 

You’re perceptive, he will soon learn. You’ve actually noticed him gaping at you a few times you rush past the gift shop in your hurry to get to your meetings on time, but you never get the chance to stop and chat with the cute, tousled-looking man behind the counter. You’ve taken notice though, especially tonight, with his tight black pants about to bust at the seams. 

You’re smiling at him encouragingly, hoping Steven will catch on to your advances as you slowly lift your hand to finger at the lapels of his jacket, eyes slowly blinking up at him, looking over his face for a reaction. “I was just saying how it's a shame we don’t get to talk more at work,” you supply him with bits of your previous conversation. The other women who were watching this play out are scoffing at how obvious you’re laying it on for him, muttering bitterly amongst each other as they shift their attention elsewhere for the night. You have faith he’ll catch on, eventually. Hopefully. 

“Me, too, I-I know you must be busy though, Donna definitely would ‘ave my head if she saw me bein’ friendly with anyone on the clock. Bit crazy, that one.” He manages to get out even with your close proximity and finger touching him through his clothes. Steven was going to slowly lose his mind if you kept dragging your finger on his clothes, your nail pressing into the fabric scandalously. There’s no way he could be misinterpreting this anymore. 

Dude she wants you, stop fucking around. 

And then you’re leaning up to whisper to him and he can feel the heat of your breath hit the shell of his ear and your breasts graze his arm, hair slightly brushing against his face in your movement; he can feel his dick twitch in his too tight pants, and it sounds like you’re smiling around your words as you say, “I could use some air, care to join me, Captain Hook?” Pulling back to look at him with eyes he couldn’t say no to let alone form words around. Steven thinks he agreed to join you because the next thing he knew he was being led out the doors to the main gallery by his hand, trailing after you like a puppy. Maybe Marc jumped in for a second back there. He’d have to thank him later.

You don’t stop pulling him behind you, occasionally looking back to giggle at his expression, until you reach the bathrooms on the other side of the gallery. He didn’t notice how long you two were walking, taking the opportunity to zone out at your legs effortlessly floating in those damn clear heels and the gentle sway of your hips as you brazenly walked in front of him. 

Marc must have fronted again because he suddenly finds himself caging you in against the bathroom counter, standing in between your legs, hands spreading them as wide as they can in your obscenely short dress, as you sit between the sinks and you’re pulling him closer, closer, closer, until your lips meet in a hot, open mouth kiss. Steven’s hands are roving over your body, nonstop, from gripping your hips to squeezing your waist to ever so softly cupping your breast, and you moan into his mouth when he hesitantly swipes his thumb across your nipple through your dress. Your hands are in his hair, meeting slight resistance due to the product he’s used to tame his curls, his matching groans of desire echoing off the bathroom walls. You’re smiling into the kiss now, pulling back for air as you lean your head back giving Steven access to your neck which he happily attacks with his mouth, lightly nipping you in the process. 

So - you didn’t think you were gonna end up with your hand down Steven’s pants - or rather Steven’s pants hanging around his knees - but you’re okay with it, more than okay with it considering you unzipped them to begin with even though he had to pull back to look at you to make sure he wasn’t making a fool of himself. 

“O-oh, please, love,” he stutters out as you massage the head of his cock, thumb swiping over the slit. There was nothing you wanted more than to make Steven lose control in his stupid hot costume in the work bathrooms. He’s already breathing shakily, eyes rolling back as you work your fist up and down his cock, as you watch mesmerized, cataloging his face to memory. 

Ahh, is this how every work event is gonna go from now on? You guys hiring, Steven? 

Marc, we shouldn’t be here for this… As gorgeous as this little tinkerbell is

Steven tries to ignore the voices of his headmates as you continue to work him up, leaning forward to lick into your mouth partially to muffle his sounds and partially to not blow his load right there at the way you’re looking at him. He starts thrusting his hips into your hand, making you wetter just by watching him give in to his baser instincts.

“God, I’m not gonna last, love,” he whines out for you. 

“Good,” you purr against his mouth. 

His brow starts to furrow, and he looks up at you with a needy gaze as you pump your fist tighter, faster, your other hand reaching up to tug his hair back and he comes with a shout, eyes clenched tightly together and chest heaving. 

You’re still slowly gripping his limp dick as you both look down to see his spend all over your thighs, leaking from his tip, dripping down your hand. He shyly meets your eyes as he hums happily and reaches for the paper towel stack behind where you’re perched to clean up his mess. When he comes back to wipe the white ropes off your thighs, you’re already tasting him and his jaw drops open at the sight of you smiling mischievously around your finger. You end up taking the paper towel from his hand and cleaning yourself up because Steven’s brain seems to have short circuited - something you’re very smug about at the moment. He has to shake himself out of his stupor to properly tuck himself away, and voices his concern about you not getting your own happy ending. 

“Oh, we’re not done for the night, Hook,” you grin before pecking him and then gracefully hopping off the counter to stand pressed up against him. 

“You’re so bloody gorgeous,” he mutters in amazement.

Told you it would work, hermano.

Steven, I swear to God if you don’t take care of her, I will. 

Marc didn’t need to front anymore that night. 

Taglist: @dameronscopilot @unspokenmoon @romanarose @milkymoon2483 @soonknight @lucianadraven32 @xbellaxcarolinax @raven-rk @twwcs @bit-dodgy-innit @einno-arko @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sadsatsumahead

[ninebluehearts]

Slowly kiss the moon boys' eyes and forehead when they're with a headache 🥰 I love these kisses so much (I wish I had someone to do that for me)

WHEN I TELL YOU I SCREAMED WHEN I SAW THIS- This is just perfect, anon 😭💕 You deserve to have someone do this for you 😤😤

It had been a bad day for Jake Lockley. He loved his job as a cab driver, but dealing with London traffic and rude customers all day gets to him sometimes. Especially when he gets the backseat drivers. Now that's something that could put him in a murderous mood.

At the end of the day, Jake entered the flat with a headache. The back of his eyes throbbing consistently, the top of his skull feeling like it cracked every time a loud noise was made. Jake Lockley could handle a lot of pain, but headaches always hurt him the most.

So, when he saw you laying in bed with one of Steven's book and a cup of tea, he sent a silent prayer to the gods for blessing him with his very own angel.

You glanced up from your book, smiling when you realized who was fronting. You and Marc had been arguing this morning, so seeing Jake instead was a bit of a relief. "Hi honey," You placed the bookmark between the two pages you were reading and closed the book, setting it on your nightstand so you could give Jake your full attention.

"Hey." He grumbled, a grimace plastered on his face as he undressed himself.

"Jake? What's the matter?" You asked, pushing the blankets aside for him.

Jake sat on the edge of the bed, pressing his palms into his eyes as a way to temporarily ease the pain. "Shhh, please Cariño. My head is killing me."

"Awe baby, come here." You said as quietly as possible, holding your arms out for him.

Jake turned around and practically flopped into your arms, his head resting on your shoulder.

You slowly dragged your nails up and down his arms and back, satisfied with the small bumps you'd left behind. "Where does it hurt the most?" You'd asked, watching him wince from even your whisper.

"My eyes." He mumbled, stifling a yawn.

"Got it." Your hand came up to rest on his cheek as you leaned down and pressed soft, gentle kisses next to his eyes, your heart melting at the way they quickly fluttered shut. You made sure to kiss every last patch of his skin on or around his eyes, finishing with a small kiss to his nose. When you were finally done, you realized he'd fallen asleep, his soft snores gently vibrating your shoulder.

"Buenas noches, mi amor." You whispered to him, reaching behind you to turn off the lamp before quickly falling asleep.

[sunmoonandeddie]

edge of the devil’s backbone

pairing: knight!bucky barnes x princess!reader

word count: 4,918

summary: Your knight has sworn to protect you always, even if that means committing a grave sin.

warnings: Smut, cussing, violence, murder, angst with a happy ending.

a/n:  Lol I really hope you enjoy this.  Bucky is kinda dark but??  Not really???  Also, I suggest listening to Devil’s Backbone by The Civil Wars while you read this.

It’s midnight when he slips into my room, Selene’s soft light guiding him to the bed where I lay, dozing peacefully amongst my mountain of pillows.

A slumber he hates to disrupt, but knows that he must.

To leave me without a word, without a goodbye and a promise to return one day when he can, would be the utmost betrayal to the delicate heart he holds in his hands.

“Princess,” he whispers.  Slinking through the room like a cat, he manages to not make a single noise loud enough to wake me.  It is not until his fingers gently brush against my cheek that my eyes flutter open.

“James?  What’s going on?” I ask, brows furrowing as I slowly push myself up on my elbows.  One hand holds the blanket to my chest, as though it’s anything he hasn’t seen before.

James is… familiar with my nightgowns, to say the least.

“I have to go,” he whispers, his hand shaking as he cups my cheek.  “I have to go before they catch me.”

“What?”  I lean into his touch instinctively, not even thinking about the strange wetness on his fingers that I feel.  “What do you mean?  What did you do?”  When my eyes adjust to the light, I realize what he means.

James’s white undershirt is stained with blood, the hot liquid smeared across his cheek like it is on mine now.

Letting out a squeak of alarm, I rush to look him over, trying to find any injuries to speak of.  “What happened?!  Are you okay?!”

“I killed him.”

I freeze, my hands pressing against his body through the thin fabric of his shirt.  Despite the chill of the oncoming winter, he is so, so warm.  Even with the knowledge he has given me, there is nothing I want to do more than drag him closer and make him cocoon himself around me to keep the cold away.  There is nothing that could ever make me not love him anymore.  Even murder.  I would still run to his embrace and spend the rest of eternity in his arms.

A foolish dream, considering our stations.

Even though James does love me the way I love him, my father would never allow a union between the two of us.  James has been my personal guard since I was young, barely five years old.  A peasant boy granted the honor of training to be a knight because he had found me after I had been kidnapped by bandits and kept for a ransom.  He’d just been fourteen at the time, and braver and smarter than my father’s entire army.

But no, none of that matters.  According to father, princesses must marry princes, who will make good kings.

Anyone with any sense could see that James was worth more than every prince and king put together.

“You killed him?  What him?” I ask, rushing to get out of bed to grab a rag.  I wet it carefully before moving to his side to gently clean off his face.  Even though I want answers, that doesn’t matter as much as getting him presentable again.

But he pushes my hand away, his sea blue eyes glimmering with something that causes a pit to form in my stomach.  “My princess…  My love…  I have to go,” he says, taking my hands in his and squeezing.  “I killed Prince Brock, and they will know it was me come morning.  I have to go…”

“James, don’t be ridiculous,” I scold as I try to start cleaning him off again, tugging to get his ruined shirt off.  “You need to change.  We’ll make it so they’ll have no idea it was you.”

James whispers my name, his bloody hand coming up to cup my cheek as though I am made of glass.  “They will know it was me, and regardless if they didn’t, the king would still pin it on me…  My affection for you is not exactly the world’s best kept secret…  And we both know how the maids like to gossip…”

Tears prick my eyes, and I shake my head desperately.  “No.  No.  You cannot leave, I forbid it!” I say, clutching onto him desperately.  “James, you cannot leave me.  Please, don’t leave me.”  My throat is suddenly dry and tight, my heart pounding within my chest so hard that I am sure I will not make it out without a few broken ribs.

A small price to pay if only my knight will stay by my side.

“You have stayed by my side for sixteen years, do not leave me now,” I order, trying to put on my most commanding voice.  I have been practicing for when I eventually become queen, but it has never ever worked on my most precious knight.

A choked laugh tears from James’s throat.  It’s harsh and broken, a far cry from the usual melody that I chase after.  “My love…  If I do not leave now, they will have me in the gallows by noon,” he says quietly, his forehead pressing against mine.  “Or worse, on the chopping block like a hen ready for the feast.”

I try to push the images from my mind, tears freely flowing down my cheeks.  “No.  No, they won’t know it was you.  Please, don’t leave me…  Or at least take me with you…  Please…”

“I need you to promise me something, princess,” he says as both his hands hold my face, his calloused thumbs rubbing against the tender skin under my eyes to get rid of wayward tears.  “If they catch me…  If I am sentenced to death…  Do not watch.  Do not watch them hang me or draw and quarter me or behead me, whatever it is, I forbid you.  Do you hear me?  I said, do you hear me?!”

“They can’t kill you, I won’t let them,” I sob, still somehow trying to get him to stay.  “I’m the princess, they have to listen to me.”

I have not gone a single day without seeing him in over sixteen years, and I do not plan to now.

But it seems as though there is nothing I can do to stop him.

The silk of my nightgown slides against my skin as I trace his features with my fingers.  “Will you come back to me?” I ask desperately after he denies my request another time.  “Once it is safe, will you please come back to me?  Come home?  I cannot live without you, without knowing you will come back to me one day…”

“I will,” he says reassuringly as he takes one of my hands and presses kisses over each fingertip, each neatly trimmed nail, each line in my palm.  “I will…  I swear to you…  But I could not let him live after today in the garden…”

“I am not angry with you,” I whisper reassuringly as I watch him, trying my best to memorize even the smallest of details.  “You swore to protect me… from anyone and everyone…”

“And I shall always keep my promise.”  He says it with such conviction, with such a fire in his eyes.  He always had, which is partially why I am not surprised that he punished the prince for his crimes against me.

When it comes to my safety, my happiness, James is the judge, jury, and executioner.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

A growl rumbles in his throat as he pulls me closer, letting his eyes shut as he allows himself the comfort of knowing that Prince Brock had not gotten far enough to truly hurt me, to permanently mark me.  “I told him that nobody who touches you without your permission gets to keep their hands.  He didn’t believe me until about an hour or so ago,” he grumbles.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, I can’t fight the giggle that erupts from my lips.  “My hero…,” I murmur as I look up at him.  As my eyes meet his, I am reminded that he needs to leave.  “I will miss you…  Please…  Try to find some way to write to me…”

“I will,” James says, his nose nudging against mine.  His blue eyes sparkle with tears as he swallows around the lump in his throat.  “Steven knows I am leaving…  He knows what I have done.  He is the one you can trust with your safety now, the only man I trust with your life, and he is outside your door now.”  Chapped lips press against my forehead for a lingering moment.  “I will write to him, and he will get the letters to you.  I swear on my life, princess.”

“Before you go…”  I take a deep breath.  “Before you go, will you grant me a kiss?  Just one…”

It is a request he does not think hard about, grabbing my face and kissing me so gently I think I may wither away from the sheer tenderness.  “I love you,” he says, stealing another kiss from my lips, over and over again.

It seems that now that he has started, he cannot stop.

Or will not.

I will not argue either away.

“I love you…  I love you more than words can say, James,” I say, fingers tangling in his long hair.

“I must take my leave, my darling… my dearest,” he breathes out.  “Before dawn comes and the lark sings…”  He stands, his weight disappearing from the bed, and a pang hits my heart.  “You must get sleep, my sweet nightingale.  Once they realize what has happened and that I have disappeared, they will question you for hours, I am sure, if not all day.  But rest well knowing that when you wake, I will be safe and waiting until I may come back for you.”

Tears roll down my cheeks as I hold onto his hand for as long as possible.  “I cannot watch you leave,” I whisper as I squeeze my eyes shut.

“You don’t have to, my love,” he says soothingly, pressing a kiss to my hair.  “Rest…  I will be home to you before you can even miss me…”

His hand slips from mine, and I do not hear him leave the room.  “James, please don’t leave me!” I say as I open my eyes, thinking he was still there.

But he had slipped through the door without a sound and left me alone in my cold bed.

My dearest,

It has been a month since I left you, and it has been the hardest month of my entire life.  I did not have the time to write to you until now because I was unable to get my hands on some parchment and a quill, and I had some trouble finding some place where your father and King Alexander could not reach me.

I cannot risk telling you precisely where I have had the luck to find myself, on the off chance that the letter is intercepted.  I cannot see why it would be, as it is carefully hidden with a letter written to Steven, but considering the man that I know your father can be…

Well, I am aware that I shall not need to explain more than that.

What I can tell you is that the sea here is beautiful.  The journey here was hard, filled with storms and a tumultuous sea, but it was worth it.  Though, it would be much better if you were with me to see it, my love, but you already know that.  Seeing the sun rise on the blue water—Water clearer than any I have ever seen before!—made me hopeful for the first time since I left your side.  In fact, the dress that you wore to your father’s last birthday feast is the exact shade of the sea here.  The soft sand reminds me of the gold trim, the white diamonds embedded in the leather…

Do you see what you have done to me, my love?  I miss you so, my heart longing to see you again, to hold you, that I have started to wax poetic about your gowns.

I cannot start on the way the flowers here remind me of the scarlet rouge you use to stain your cheeks and your sweet lips or I shall never stop.  But, I have dreamed of your lips each night, of the way that my name falls like a prayer, of the way you told me you love me…  I dream of kissing you again.  More mornings than not, I wake with tears on my cheeks because of the need I feel to have you close again.  I had waited for so many years to finally tell you how I feel, despite knowing the way we both felt it, and the night that I did, I had to leave.

It feels like a tragedy from one of those books you like to read so much.

One of the sailors on the ship guessed that I had left a woman behind that had broken my heart, and he told me that time would heal the gaping wound.  It was all I could do to explain to him that I had been the one to break both of our hearts, and that time could do nothing because I am counting the days until I may run to you again.

Time may also do nothing because of the depth of my adoration for you.

I wish that I could tell you where I am so that I may receive a letter in return.  I hope you do not regret what happened the night I left, the kiss.

I hope you will still want me, still love me, when I return to you.

All of my love,

Your James

My dearest,

It has been a year since I have seen you last, since I left your side, and I fear I am on the verge of dying if I cannot get a glimpse of your sweet face soon.

Despite writing to you every few weeks, I feel as though there is so much more I can say.  Every tiny little thing that occurs during my days, I wish to tell you.  I wish to tell you so you do not think that I am at the taverns, flirting with every wench that I set my eyes on.  Despite the way they bat their eyes, they can do nothing to even catch a glimpse from me because I am always picturing you.

Have you thought of me since that night?  I imagine you have had to, since I am writing to you and I am sure that Steven is getting these to you.  He may be a dunce in some things, but he is generally a capable man.

When I saw you in your bed that night, slumbering so peacefully, my first thought was that you looked like an angel.  I had been worried that I would be scared to touch you, to even set my eyes upon you, after what I had done.  But all I felt was reassurance that I had done the right thing.

I still cannot apologize enough for leaving you alone in that garden for so long.  Despite knowing that it technically wasn’t my fault, considering that the king had called for me to discuss the journey back home, I am wracked with guilt.  I should have had a servant fetch Steven to take my place while I was gone before I left.  But, I was naïve enough to assume that the palace guards that were present in the garden would protect a princess, even from their prince.

Coming back and seeing you so upset, panicking as he gripped your soft, sweet body hard enough to bruise…  I had realized when I looked at you that you thought I had abandoned you.

I hope you know that no matter where I am, I have not abandoned you.  I could never leave you forever, my dearest.

Your handkerchief no longer smells like you.  I had swiped it from your room as I left, needing something to comfort me on my journey.  I sleep with it pressed to my nose so that I may see you in my dreams.  But now it has lost your scent, and I have been on a search to find the perfume that you wear so that I may buy a bottle and need not worry about it losing your scent again, but alas, I have not been able to come across it.

I fear it would not smell exactly like you anyway, my love, and I would simply be disappointed.

I have pressed a few more flower petals to send to you, but I may not be able to send them again for a while, as winter will be here soon.  Even in this warm kingdom, it brings a chill that withers the flowers and crops.  Until then, I shall send you as many as possible.

All of my love,

Your James

My dearest,

It has been two years to the day, and I can only pray to whatever gods that I will be able to be with you forever soon.

Did you get my present?  I snuck into the palace after deciding that I couldn’t wait much longer to see you.  Even if I was not able to speak to you, just seeing your angelic face as you slept gave me a moment of peace.  My heavy heart was lightened.

You may need to hide the letters I write you better, it only took me seconds to find your hiding spot.  Of course, your father doesn’t know you as well as I do, so he most likely won’t think to check behind your mirror.

The necklace I left on your pillow is inlaid with pure opals and diamonds.  I had never heard of opal, I must admit, until I found my way here.  It is a great source of pride in this kingdom.  I knew the second I saw it that you would look absolutely stunning in it.

Perhaps you will wear it on our wedding day.

Every day I grow fearful that your father will find another suitor for you and force you to marry him before I can make it back to you.  I know how adept you are at avoiding the princes and lords that he shoves in your direction, but what can I say?  To see you with another man, even if you did not truly wish to be with him, would kill me.

I have been on a ship again for the last few weeks, so unfortunately there is not much to write to you about.  But please, know that you are in my thoughts every moment of every day.

All of my love,

Your James

My dearest,

I have just gotten the news of your father’s passing.

I am on my way home to you.

All of my love,

Your James

I sigh as I sit on the throne—my throne.  Mere hours before, I had been crowned as the new queen of my kingdom.

The scepter is heavy in my hand, the cold metal seeming to burn my skin.  How can I do this on my own?

My father raised me to be a queen, a wife, but not to rule.  I was raised to be the queen to a king, to support the man I end up marrying as he rules the kingdom.

But the only man I will ever marry is not here.

Steven is standing beside the throne, his hands clasped behind his back.  He has been good to me the last few years, as I have waited desperately for the day that my love, my true knight, will come home to me.  “You are troubled,” he says quietly as the both of us watch the nobility dance in magical patterns that draw the eye and lift the spirits.  “You should be excited, Your Majesty.  Today is a day of great celebration.”

“He isn’t here,” I say.  It’s all I need to.  His last letter is pressed against my breast, hidden inside my gown.  The necklace he left for me is heavy around my neck, the precious jewels glinting in the light.  “He said he was coming so where is he?”

The prince that had been seeking my hand before my father died is present, his gaze continuously finding me as he slowly works his way closer.  Over the past weeks, I’ve been able to avoid his advances with claims of my grief.

As if I could ever truly grieve a man as cruel as my father.

“It is possible his ship may have been caught in a storm,” Steven comments, trying to soothe my anger.  He has seen how unstable my emotions can be when James is not close by.  “He will be here.  You know he will, my queen.”

I am growing more and more annoyed as I realize that I will soon be expected to join the dancing.  But dancing is the last thing I want to do without my love there.

Beside me, Steven tenses, and I watch as his blue eyes flit around the room.  “Interesting…,” he says under his breath, almost too low for me to hear.

“What is it?” I ask, sitting up a little straighter.

“It appears that your latest suitor has disappeared.”

What?  Brows furrowing, I look around the room, pointedly searching for Prince Quentin for once.  Sure, he is a handsome man, but his blue eyes are forgettable when I compare them to James’s.  “Well, perhaps he found some maid to consort with in the gardens,” I say with an eye roll, quickly giving up on the search.  “It is not as though he is getting any sort of connection from me.  Let him have his fun.”

Steven snorts, his head dipping for a moment.  “I think it is time for you to join the dancing,” he says simply, in a tone that makes me wonder what he has up his sleeve.

He knows something that he is not telling me.

“Fine,” I say with a glare in his direction, getting to my feet.  I hand my new scepter off to the servant who has immediately rushed to my side, the song currently floating in the air coming to an end.  A new one begins as I step into the fray, easily joining the dance.

I am so swept away in the swirling skirts and joyous laughter of the crowd that I do not notice the man that had joined the dancers on the other side.

Passing from partner to partner, I keep a fake smile plastered on my face and absentmindedly nod with everything that is said to me.

“It has been a long time, my love.”

My eyes snap up to focus on the man whose arms I have just been passed into, and my heart stops inside of my chest.  “James?” I breathe out.  My eyes well up with tears just at the sight of his loving face, his sea blue eyes sparkling in the bright light of the ballroom.  “James, is it really you?”

His smile is almost blinding, and I realize that his own eyes are glassy as well.  “It is me, my princess.  Or should I say, my queen?”  Despite the rest of the people around us switching partners, he refuses to let me go, his hand tight on my hip and the other holding my hand firm.  “I saw your coronation this morning.  You looked radiant.  You still do, my dearest…”

I barely notice the world around me as I watch his tongue flick out between his teeth to wet his chapped lips.  “You were there?”

“Of course I was,” he chuckles, his large hand squeezing my hip.  “Do you really believe that I could ever even risk missing your coronation, sweetheart?”  Feeling the crowd’s stares, he leans in a little.  “Meet me in the garden in a few moments.  By the gazebo.”

Twirling in time with the music, my heart sinks as I am passed to the next partner and the next.  My hands are trembling with the fear that he could disappear again.  Logically, I know that he won’t.  But after spending so many years away from him…

“Go,” Steven says after I finally break away at the end of the dance.  “He is waiting for you.”

I don’t need to be told twice.  As I make my way to the corridor to slip out to the gardens, I have to reassure several servants that I am alright, but just escaping for a fresh breath of air.

The gazebo he told me to meet him at is further back in the garden, out of view from any of the palace windows.  His dark figure stands at one of the railings, looking out at the ocean.  The necklace around my neck burns as I take a moment to look at him, really look at him.  His hair is longer than it was when he left, and stubble lines his face.

Did he shave just for me?

I like the thought of him preparing to see me, nervously checking his appearance in the mirror.  Perhaps he bought a new jacket and waistcoat in his excitement.

“James?”

He turns to look at me immediately, a smile brightening his face, and I feel as though I am a teenager again, fresh with the feelings of love and adoration.  “My dearest…”  He does not waste any time as he pulls me close, his lips slotting against mine and his hands roaming over my body.  “I have missed you…  I have dreamt of you each night.”

And I know that anyone could come out and see us at any moment.  And I know that the gossip would run rampant and the possible alliance with Prince Quentin’s kingdom could crumble.

But I do not care.

I have been craving his touch for years, praying to the gods he would come home and hold me just as he is doing now.

“I need you.  I need you, James,” I say as my hands tug at his jacket and push it off his shoulders, going for his waistcoat next.

Thankfully, he does not argue.  “You’ve dreamt of this as much as me,” he says in relief as he unties my corset enough to tug it down to reveal my chest to him.  James chuckles as he catches his letter as it falls.  “You kept this so close to your heart, my love.”  Seeing the letter only makes him more ravenous, his lips attaching to my neck as he works his breeches down.

Pain runs through me as he sits and pulls me on top of him, finally joining our bodies together, but I don’t take the time to care.  The glory of finally being with him is far greater than any pain I could ever feel.

We are so tangled that you cannot tell where one of us ends and the other begins as he moves me, taking his pleasure and granting me my own.

“You’re mine,” he growls, nipping at my neck.  “That sorry excuse for a prince thought he could touch you.  Thought he would ever be worthy enough for you.”

It suddenly occurs to me that his arrival and Prince Quentin’s disappearance were correlated, and I see a drop of blood on his white undershirt.

It tears a moan from my throat.

The knowledge that a man as powerful, as strong, as my knight would protect me in such a dangerous manner, so desperately, sends a jolt down my spine.  The fact that he is willing to go to the ends of the earth, to commit such a sin…

It is delicious.

The dagger he must have used glints in the low light of the moon as it rests on the stone floor, having fallen from his breeches when they’d been torn down.  The sharp edge is crusted with a dark red, almost brown substance.

“I am all yours.  I have always been yours, my knight,” I say as my fingers tangle in his hair and pull, our lips locking.  “I love you.  I love you so.  I cannot breathe without you.”

“I am never leaving you again.  Never.”  His teeth grab onto my lower lip as he picks up the pace, grinning as he glances down to watch my body.  “Fuck…  It’s even better than I dreamed of.  I love you so much, my queen.”

My release is fast and hard, knocking the breath out of my lungs as I cling to him, my nails scratching at his back and creating a rip in his shirt.  “JAMES!”

James is quick to follow, his hips jerking as he reaches his peak and spills inside of me.  “Perhaps you will become heavy with my child,” he whispers as he steals another kiss, tenderly fixing my dress before helping me stand and dressing himself.  “Perhaps we will have a little prince or princess on the way.”

“Well…”  A smile spreads over my face as I cup his cheeks, running my fingers over the dark stubble.  He would look so delectable with a beard.  “In case you have not been informed, I have been made queen…  And I decree that you are to be my king.”

A laugh bubbles in his chest as he pulls me close once more, dipping me low and kissing me something fierce.  “Your wish is my command, my dearest.”

[solvskrift]

fic: every time I pass that way (also on ao3)

Technically, they're both here, but Steven never gets to be.

“Wait.”

Marc sidestepped an old woman bent low over her jewelry stall and slipped into a small souvenir shop bearing Sobek’s name on a wide banner overhead.

“Bastard,” Khonshu muttered from his perch on the roof atop the entrance. Marc ignored him, wondering disinterestedly which one Sobek was again and what it was he might have done to piss off the other gods. Steven would probably know. “What are you doing?”

Marc shrugged, thumbing through a thin stack of postcards. They had been here a while, judging by the bent corners and lack of Just Printed Glossy Shine™.

“Not again,” Khonshu grumbled, thumping his staff in irritation.

“He’s always wanted to go.” Marc glanced over his shoulder, lowering his voice out of habit so the nearby group of tourists wouldn’t think he was talking to himself. His mouth twisted.

“We don’t have time for this, you have a train to catch—”

Marc stopped at a shot of Elephantine Island and glanced between it and the picture of St. Simeon. “He should get to see it, too,” he said stubbornly. Defensive, Khonshu frequently told him. But fuck it, for an ancient god and his avatar they weren’t actually in Egypt all that often, and Aswan was on Steven’s list. Most people wanted to see the pyramids, or the sphinx. Not Steven. Well – yes, Steven, but he wanted to see all this shit, too. The tiny villages and the – Philadelphia Temple. Marc was pretty sure it wasn’t actually called that, but he went ahead and gave himself some points for remembering that much.

He didn’t have any idea how he was going to explain their – Steven’s – mom being this far outside London, but that was a problem for Future Marc. He held up the pair of cards.

“Which one do you think he’d want?”

Khonshu practically growled. “It does not matter to me what the worm likes.”

Marc felt his hackles rise, but he knew there wasn’t any point in telling Khonshu to shut his face. He would do what he wanted.

He always did.

“No, seriously, one or two, A or B—”

“Pick. One,” Khonshu boomed. “Or send them both, I do not care!”

Marc eyed the pictures again, nodding in approval. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, good idea. Thanks….”

“I used to be worshipped among these mortals,” Marc heard Khonshu lament quietly to himself as he turned to drop some coins into the shopkeeper’s hand. “Feared.”

Marc tucked the cards securely into his jacket pocket as he stepped out into the blazing sun and picked back up into a jog, Khonshu following closely across the rooftops.

“We have less than an hour,” Khonshu reprimanded. Marc could hear the displeasure in his voice.

A cruel prickle of resentment and preemptive self-disgust reminded Marc exactly where he was and what he was going to do. He was tempted very slightly, as always, to sink back into their body, let Steven take over….

Let Steven eat a pastry in a café in a country he wanted to visit instead of shoving a knife into the next somebody’s eye socket.

Marc set his jaw and shook himself, picking up his pace. He gave himself one more second to glance around at the market, imagining what Steven would think of it all if he were here. Some of the warmth of the sun came back to him, and he patted the postcards in his pocket.

“Next time, buddy,” he promised the air. “Maybe next time.”

[fairlyspnfanfic]

The Ties that Bind Us

Summary: When your past comes back to haunt you, who will prevail?  Hunting had been your life since your were 4 years old.  The monsters that started you on that path were resurfacing, and you knew what you had to do.  But nothing is ever truly secret, and nothing is ever that cut and dry with the Winchester’s in tow. 

A/N: This is a new one that is coming from a few requests.  I’m not going to post the actual requests because...well because it would spoil the story line and I’m pretty into this one. 

Words: 2826

Tags: Angst, Fluff, nightmares, all the fun stuff. 

I wrang my hands together nervously.  They were all sweat; clammy and cold while simultaneously uncomfortably hot.  My breathing was deceptively calm, though every other part of me shook as my anxiety climbed.  I closed my eyes, pushing my hands down on the mattress on either side of me and took a deep steadying breath.  Talking myself into pushing my body into a standing position, I opened my eyes and left my room, consciously putting one foot in front of the other.  

“Guys?” My voice rang out in the echoey halls, shaking and hoarse.  I cleared my throat and ran my hands through my hair as I continued making my way into the main room.  There they were.  Dean, his feet kicked up on the table, a large, brown dusty book sprawled on his lap and a beer firmly clasped in his hand as he focused on the words on the page. Sam, pacing back and forth silently behind him.  

It had been weeks since we had found a job. The last actual gig we had been on was pretty small-fry. A pair of ghouls wreaking havoc in a college town that we had taken care of in less than a weekend. The local fraternity parties didn’t even notice, and the drunken sorority girls went on with their lives none the wiser.

But this?  This job was going to be huge.  If not in scale, then in emotion alone.  Not for the boys.  They wouldn’t have any clue; I’d make sure of that.  The pack had been on the prowl for decades, maybe longer.  Long enough to have destroyed my life, killed my family, and upend everything I knew to be true when I was only four years old. And now they were back.  I rubbed the sweat from my palms that would have given me away on the back of my jeans, before grabbing the chair opposite from Dean.  The wheels moved faster than I expected as it began to roll behind me.  I lowered myself quickly into the seat, as if the mishap was entirely intentional, but the smirk at the corner of Dean’s smile let me know my attempt had failed.

I hated the chairs in the map room. The side armrests dug into my hips and I was never quite comfortable in them.  But who was I to question generations of decorum?  I crossed my legs as eloquently as I could, adjusting so that I was practically sitting on one hip in order to keep the bars from digging into them.

The laptop Sam had out on the table was still booted up.  I reached out, grabbing it and quickly pulled up the article that I had found this morning.  “Woman’s Body Found Mangled in Historic District.”  I spun the screen around, allowing Dean to see.  He skimmed through it quickly before sneering. “Doesn’t really scream monster there, Y/N.”  I rolled my eyes, returning control of the computer to myself and pulled up three more articles, all within the last two months.  “Teen Killed in Apparent Pit Bull Attack,” followed by “Couple Maimed in Forrest Preserve” and “Missing Child Found Had Been Attacked by Unidentified Animal.”  I pushed the screen over to Dean again.

“Well, maybe that does merit a look-see.”  His tune changed.  Whenever there was a lapse between jobs, Dean would get antsy.  His temperament changed, he was jumpy, and nothing could make him happier than a new destination and a big bad to gank.  

“What’s that?” Sam said as he practically skipped up to the table like an excited puppy.

“Get this,” I began before Dean cut me off.

“Y/N,” he chastised.  “That’s Sam’s line.”  He winked at me as a smile spread widely across his face.  That smile.  The one that could bring world peace as far as I was concerned.  At the very least, it made my knees weak, breath hitch, and I lost all train of thought.  

I quickly pulled myself back together and pushed my daydreaming mind back to the task at hand.  Dean pushed the laptop over to Sam, allowing him to read through them quickly.  “So, what are we thinking, Werewolves? Hellhounds?”  

“Werewolves,” I said definitively.  My face was deadpan, and it didn’t seem to go unnoticed.  “Look at the descriptions.  There’s something they aren’t saying.  The bodies were all attacked at night, and each one was during the full moon. Plus, the missing kid?  He was 8.  That’s not enough time for any demon deal to go down and a Hellhound to get involved.  No, it’s a werewolf.  No doubt in my mind.”  I was all seriousness and they knew it.  Sam simply nodded, his eyebrows creased suspiciously, but he didn’t question me.

“Well then,” Dean said, clapping his hands together as he all but jumped to his feet.  “Let’s get on the road.  It’s a little over seven hours to Missouri.  You’ve got fifteen minutes to get ready.”  He was like a kid at Christmas as he bounced down the hallway to his room.

“Only guy in the world to get the warm and fuzzies from a bunch of dead bodies,” I laughed, shaking my head, closing the laptop, and uncrossing my legs.  I stood up slowly and stretched my arms above my head.

Sam didn’t take his probing eyes off me as he crossed his arms.  “Y/N?”

“Yes, Samuel?”  I mocked him in response.

“What aren’t you telling us?”  

I did my best version of shock and outrage, looking around as if I wasn’t quite sure what he was alluding to. “What?”

“You’ve never been so adamant about a job before.  Hell, you’re usually the one trying to talk us out of taking jobs.  What gives?”  I rolled my eyes as dramatically as I could.

“Nothing.  It just seems like a pretty clear gig to me.  And if bodies are dropping every month, and more bodies each time?”  I shook my head.  “Then the next ones are on us.”  I locked eyes with the younger Winchester, attempting to convey my point with a look.

His expression still seemed doubtful, but he nodded his head and walked towards his room, patting my shoulder as he passed by me. “Whatever you say, kid.”  

Half an hour later, we were all piled into the Impala.  Dean driving, Sam riding shotgun, and I lounged across the backseat, scouring the news for any updates.  The next full moon wouldn’t be for another week, but I wasn’t willing to allow anything to be missed.  Not when I could stop it.  

A couple of hours later, my eyes began to droop, and my cell phone slipped from my hand, crashing to the floor between my feet.  But my exhaustion won out over my need to secure the phone.  

I looked down at my hands. They were sticky and coated with a thick layer of blood.  I had no idea if it was mine or someone else’s, but the terror that rose in my chest didn’t care.  All around me, the only sounds I could hear were the violent gnashing of teeth, the moist squelching of flesh being torn from bone, and the small, muted whimpers from someone that I had yet to lay my eyes on.  I looked around but everything around me was coated in darkness.  Only my hands were visible in a dim red light that seemed to come from nowhere.  I took a step forward, feeling my foot slip as the wet floor beneath me was coated in that same tacky liquid that was all over my hands.  Looking in front of me, I came eye to eye with a single pair of vibrant yellow orbs that seemed to stop me in my tracks.  Paralyzed with fear, I froze, unwilling and wholly unable to continue forward.  A low grumble began emanating from those same eyes as they moved closer to me.  The grumble turned quickly to a growl; vicious and hungry with a deep, bone chilling timbre.  Suddenly, the eyes were directly in front of me, inches from my face. So close that I could feel the hot, rank breath on my cheek before a loud, piercing snarl rang in my ear.  

My eyes snapped open and the sweat running down my neck sent a chill down my spine.  My sharp inhale was the only sound made and I did my best to calm down before making any further noise.  My nightmares had always been the same and had always been my own.  Nobody had ever found out about them, especially the boys, and I fully intended to keep it that way.  

Stretching my arms to my sides as best as I could, I made a dramatic show of waking.  “Where are we?”  I asked.

Glancing to the front seat I could see Sam slumped against the window, his head tilted back, mouth open, and very much asleep.  Dean was still in the driver’s seat, bobbing his head and mouthing along with Steven Tyler as he belted out the lyrics to “Dream On.”  His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, giving me that same world-peace smile that only he seemed to know how.  

“About 100 miles outside St. Charles.  I’ve gotta stop for gas though.  You hungry?” I nodded back to him as I rubbed my eyes, clearing out the sandy bit of sleep that had formed in the corners.  

“Do you need to change out? I can drive the last of the way.” I offered, knowing he’d never go for it. He never had before.  

“I’m good.  Got a solid three hours of shut eye last night.” He winked at me in the mirror. Pushing down the butterflies in my stomach and doing my best to suppress the blush that I was sure was creeping to my cheeks, I looked out the window.  The sun had just come down, creating an orange sky with just a hint of pink.  I took a deep breath and turned back to facing the driver.  

Dean pulled off onto an exit ramp and turned into a QT Gas Station.  “What are you in the mood for?”  he asked me. I shrugged.

“Surprise me.”  The glint in his eye and the devilish smile that he gave me in return elicited an exaggerated eye roll from me.  “Just go get some road food.”  I waved him away.  “I’ll pump.” I opened my door as quietly as I could and stepped around to the gas pump.  I twisted the gas cap, put my card in the machine, or rather Stacey Abrams’ card, and began filling the tank.  

I watched Dean walk up and into the convenience store, his bowed legs taking long strides as he did so. He grabbed the door and held it open, making a big show as he gestured for the woman coming out the door to pass before him.  The leggy blonde walked by, tucking her perfectly silky hair behind her perfect ears as her perfectly perky tits bounced their way out of the shop.  I watched as Dean’s eyes followed her out, obviously and lustily eyeing her up and down, appreciating the view.  

The sharp stab to my chest wasn’t new.  The jealousy mixed with disappointment happened pretty frequently after all.  But each time felt like ripping off a band aid before the wound had begun to heal.  

The gas pump stopped, the telling “clunk” of the machinery drawing my attention back to my task.  I tapped the spout on the edge of the tank before fully withdrawing it and hanging it back up on the pump.  I ripped the receipt off quickly, shoving it into my back pocket as I walked back around the car and settled into my seat again.  

“You know, you could always just tell him.”  Sam’s voice rang out, surprising me, from the front seat.  

“Shit, Sam.” I said.  “I thought you were asleep!”  

“I’m serious, Y/N. Tell him.”  He had turned around now, staring me dead in the face as if we were locked in a staring contest that I hadn’t agreed to participate in.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said a bit too defensively.  

“Right.”  He rolled his eyes at me.  “You do realize I know every tell you have, right?”  

I shook my head at him, chuckling.  “Samuel, I think you must still be dreaming.” 

“Like that.”  He pointed at me.  “You’re biting your cheek.  You only do that when you’re lying. Next, you’ll be pulling on your ear lobe, just like that.”  He accused me as I did just as he said.  

“No, I’m not.”  He glared at me in response.  “Shut up.”  I bit at him, jokingly, sticking my tongue out at him as I crossed my arms.  

Dean opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat.  

“Dude,” he said excitedly, holding up a white paper bag.  “Taquitos!”  

A little over 100 miles later, we were pulling into the local motel.  Sam had gone to check us in while Dean and I grabbed the bags from the trunk.

“Peartree Inn?”  I said, dejectedly.  Dean looked at me, a curious expression on his face.  “Just once, it would be so nice to stay at a 5-star hotel.  Hell, I’d settle for 4 stars if it meant a comfy bed that didn’t have my back aching in the morning and a hot tub to soak in at night.” I closed my eyes and sighed, dreaming.  

“I’ll be sure to get you a hot tub at the next place we stay in.  Long as I can join you,” he said, cocking his head towards me with a smile. I rolled my eyes and playfully shoved his shoulder.  

“Hey,” Sam said, running up to us both.  “So, they only have rooms with two beds max. No roll-away’s or cots.  But I got us two rooms.  Best I could do.”  He handed a card key to each of us.  A small sticky note was attached to each.  “Dean, we’re in 213.  Y/N, you’re in 436.” I nodded my head, handed Sam his bag and headed inside.  

The front desk clerk waved at me as I went in and pointed towards the elevators.  Thanking her, I walked over and pushed the call button.  The doors opened instantly, and I stepped in without waiting for Sam and Dean to catch up.  Once I dropped off my bags and went to the bathroom, I planned on heading to their room anyway to go over our plan.  

But just after I’d used the restroom and rinsed my face, there was a solid knock at the door.  “Gimme a second,” I shouted as I grabbed a hand towel and dried my face off.  The peephole on the door was small with a silver dongle covering it up until you swung it to the side.  I checked to see who it was before unlatching the deadbolt and opening the door.

“Bad news, Y/N.”  Dean said as he walked in, making himself comfortable on my King size bed.  He was lounging back, his head resting on a combination of my pillows and his own hand as his legs sprawled out in front of him.  “No hot tubs in the whole joint.”  I laughed at him, throwing my hand towel into the bathroom.  

“So, where’s Sam?  I figured we needed to get our plan of attack sorted.”  

“Oh,” Dean said, straightening up a bit.  “He’s down in our room. We didn’t get the fancy penthouse view you did.”  My eyes wandered over to the balcony and the sliding doors that lead out to it.  I pointed to it and tilted my head, silently asking if he’d like to join me outside. He all but leapt out of bed and over to the door, yanking it open.  The track was rusted and in desperate need of some WD-40, but he was able to grant us egress.  

We walked onto the balcony and looked down.  The penthouse view as Dean called it wasn’t the greatest.  A moderately busy highway for as late at night on a weeknight as it was, and some unkempt trees just barely allowed us to see the airport beyond it.  But the fresh air and the sounds of the cars rushing by was a tonic to the anxiety that had been eating at me all day.  

I leaned on the railing, my hands clasped together, as I inhaled the fresh air and felt my hair blowing ever so slightly in the wind.  I could feel Dean walk up and join me.  “Feels pretty nice out here,” he said softly.

I smiled. “Yeah, it does.” I opened my eyes and looked down again, remembering the reason we were here.  As peaceful as it felt right now, there were monsters just down the road. The very monsters from my nightmares.  And no matter how terrified it left me, I wouldn’t be leaving before I drove a silver bullet through each of their hearts.  

To Be Continued......Part Two

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[higherfurther-romanova]

Then Finish It. (Pt. 3)

Warnings: Heavy angst, language, possible smut, death, injuries, arguments, possible dark themes. 

Word Count: 1,483

A/N: I’m so sorry. (This is not the end btw more pain to come. I’m your official pain dealer.) I’m not sure how well this turned out buuuut have fun. :) 

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 |  Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 | Pt. 6 | Finale |

~~~~~~~~~~~⧗~~~~~~~~~~~

“What…?” She asks, her voice getting caught in her throat. 

You don’t say anything and stare straight forward until she realizes what she said. 

"Shit, no… (y/n), that's not what I meant. At all." She shook her head, wishing she could take back her words. 

"Don't lie to me, Natalia." You scoff. 

"I'm not lying to you. Of course, I love you, you're my best friend." 

"And that's all you feel towards me?" You stand up and look at her. "You're a terrible liar." You open the door you were just leaning against and walk out. 

"Give her time. Her mind is scrambled right now." Wanda smiles politely at Nat. 

"That isn't her… those are not her words. I knew they broke her down, but I didn't know it was that bad." She stands up and looks down. 

Carol sighs and walks out the way she saw you leave. The days where Natasha couldn't be in your room due to missions Carol and Wanda would spend talking to you. You'd gotten close to both of them and you're thankful for it. You were closer with Carol between the both of them because Carol was the one who spared your life after you escaped the red room. The second Carol heard about the events in the helicarrier, she rushed back to Earth. There's always been this unmentioned bond between you two, I mean, she saved your life. 

~~~~~~~~~~~⧗~~~~~~~~~~~

You walk into your office at SHIELD and lock the door, it's the only place you could truly be alone. You close your laptop when you hear a light knock on your door. Yeah, nevermind on you being able to have alone time. 

"Whaaat?" You groan. 

"It's Carol. Unlock the door?" She asks. 

"I'm a bit busy, Cap." You lie. 

"Doing what? It's dark outside." 

"I'm just looking some things up. What do you need?" You sigh. 

She blasts the door down. "I need you to quit lying to yourself." 

"...Fury is going to be pissed." You stare at what's left of the door. 

"Did you hear me?" 

"Lying to myself?" You scoff. 

"So you did hear me." She sits down and crosses her arms. 

"You're unbelievable, you know that?" You shake your head. 

"I've heard things." She smirks. 

"Look… I need you to pull yourself together and push them away." She's referring to the red room… of course, she is. 

"A bit late for that, isn't it, Danvers?" You grumble, walking over to stare out of your window. 

"(Y/N)... please. Please let us help you. We love you. The whole team does. They're worried." She softens, standing up and walking towards you. 

"Love is for children." You whisper loud enough for her to hear. 

"That isn't you. Those are their words." She puts a hand on your shoulder. 

You flinch at the gesture. 

"(Y/N/N)..." 

"You don't know me." You mumble. 

She turns your body towards her. "But I do." 

You tear your eyes away from the skyline and look at her. She sees the tears welling up in your eyes and pulls you closer and you rest your head on her shoulder. 

"It's okay." She whispers. 

You shake your head no. She doesn't say anything, she just wraps her arms around you tighter and lets you cry on her shoulder. Sometime within the time, she moved you to the couch for more comfort. She gently brushes her fingers through your hair as you slowly break. You're afraid that if you break any further, you'll shatter into nothingness. Even after all of your years of training, you can't manage to control these emotions. 

"You know she loves you. And you love her…" Carol snaps you out of your thoughts.

"Please don't. Please..." Your voice cracks in the middle of it.  

“Okay.” She says simply and pulls you in closer. 

You stay there for a good two hours. Until you can put on your emotionless act again. You head back to the compound and fall asleep quickly. You’re awoken by a small knock on the door connecting your and Natasha’s rooms. You groan and turn onto your side, hoping to go back to sleep. Just as you’re about to fall asleep again, you hear the door open. 

“Hey- oh shit, were you sleeping?” She asks. 

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter, what is it?” You yawn. 

“I was just coming to check on you.” She smiles softly. 

She’s not going to fucking give up on you, is she? 

You nod, half asleep. “Thank you.” 

A bright blush colours her cheeks as she nods and walks back into her room. 

~~~~~~~~~~~⧗~~~~~~~~~~~

You fell asleep for an hour and woke up drenched in sweat. You saw him. James. You saw him jumping from building to building killing people below. You saw them torturing him. His screams of agony. You try to shake the image out of your head but can’t, so you quickly throw your mission suit on and grab your weapons. 

“Jarvis, please tell everyone that I’ve gone to see a friend if they ask..” You whisper quietly to the AI. 

“Yes, Ms. (Y/L/N).” The AI responds. 

You sneak out quietly before the sun rises and take off on your motorcycle. You park in an alleyway and pull your laptop out of your saddlebag, pulling up the files you have on HYDRA. Bucky couldn’t and wouldn’t have gone far by now, people expect him to run across the world so he would do the exact opposite. You read more carefully and realize there are hints in the text which give you an idea of where he may be. You put your laptop back and drive off to the location. 

You pull up to this abandoned factory. Before you can even turn your engine off, he’s standing infront of you. You quickly swing your bike at him, knocking him down. Using him being down to your advantage, you throw a grappling hook up to the roof, taking the high ground. He’s not far behind you, but you’re prepared for him. He comes at you, swinging at an unsteady pace. He pulls out a knife and is about to stab you in the neck when you put your arm up infront of his. “James.. Please.” You grunt. 

He growls and pushes harder. You push the knife point away from your neck, but he manages to run the blade down diagonally across your eye. You hiss at the pain, putting him in a choke hold that he escapes immediately. He pulls you so your back is against his chest and the knife is pointed to your neck. 

“Come home, soldier…” You choke back a sob. 

You feel his grip soften, he steps away. You see something in his eyes soften. His grip on the knife loosens and he drops it. He looks at you with a terrified look. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You nod, a tear rolling down your cheek. 

“What did I do…” He asks. 

You shake your head and hug him tightly. 

“I’m scared…” He whispers. 

“It’s okay. I’m here. I’m taking you back to Steve. He misses you.” You chuckle. 

He smiles softly but it soon fades when he hears HYDRA agents down below. 

“Fuck.” You curse under your breath. 

One of them sees Bucky and points him out to the rest of them. They start climbing up to you guys, you shoot a few down, but one quickly runs straight at you, knocking your gun out of hand. You easily knock him down, but you’re swarmed by a group of five. You slowly but surely take them down, knocking the gun out of the agent’s hand before he could shoot Bucky. They all turn to you. All seven of what’s left up there. They charge at you, guns pointed at your head, knives ready to pierce through your skin. Bucky picks up one of the dead agent’s guns and shoots a few of them in the back of the head. You’re standing on the edge of the building with the soldiers slowly stalking up onto you. All it takes is for the agent infront of you to kick you. Before you know it, you’re falling, but he’s shot down and a metal arm reaches out and grabs your wrist. You hear footsteps running at Bucky above you, panic washes over his face. 

“It’s okay, James. Let me go.” You look down at the ground, the drop is huge. 

“No. I can do this… Just hold on.” He grunts. 

“They’ll kill you. You can’t work without both hands, James.” You reason with him. 

He shakes his head. You nod. “Find Steven and Natalia.” 

“No.” He growls. 

“It’s okay.” You whisper. The cold metal releases you when an agent comes up behind him and tries to stab him. Everything goes black. The last thing you see is Nat’s smile in the back of your imagination.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

tapestry 👑 V

Warnings: eventual dark elements (tags to be added as fic continues)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The court celebrates the harvest.

Note: I’m a goddamn liar and ended up writing this after work and staying up past midnight because I have a problem people. I need help but until then I’m gonna keep posting so here ya go, my lovelies.

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

The week of the harvest celebration had come, though time seemed to stand still. Each day dragged on dreading the next. Anxious of what the king should do next, of how the court should roil once more, of your own part in the brewing mess. Even as the waters calmed it did not comfort you. Peace only assured you that chaos was on the horizon.

Rose continued to stew in her anger. You dared to think it was jealousy. While the king persisted in his prolonged stares during rehearsals, your partner did not ease matters as he passed along his master’s messages. Each added to the weight on your shoulders, the guilt that stabbed you each time you looked at the queen. Though you did not encourage it, you felt your part in it just as grievous.

And your father. When you met again, he did not spare a word. His disappointment, his frustration, his anger all spent upon you. Your disobedience had nearly cost him. Never mind that it kept your reputation in tact, that it gave hope to a future betrothal. He didn’t want an earl’s wife, he wanted a king’s mistress. The baubles you refused to accept, the promise of a title greater than his own father’s. You factored little in his desires outside your ability to fulfill them.

The saffron brocade was stiff across your chest, cut much lower than your usual gowns. Each woman was to wear a different shade of autumn for the performance. The king and queen would lead in goldenrod yellow as satins and silks of auburns, scarlets, and moss would swirl in. In imitation of a rush of leaves falling from the barren trees, heralding the change of seasons.

A seamstress knelt at your feet and pinned the skirts. The queen ran a finger along her throat as she considered you. It was the final fitting before the banquet; you were the last of the women to attend their measurements. 

You could barely look Eleanor in the eye. Hearsay was rife as it always was but did she believe the whispers. Did she think the king truly enamoured by you? Did she know of the letters? The gifts he sent along with them? The ones you would not open, that were sent back untouched.

If she did, she did not betray herself. She smiled as she neared and touched the golden border along the top of the bodice. “Tighter around the waist,” She suggested to the tailor. “A half inch lower here.”

You looked down at your chest. You blinked. You really didn’t need less fabric there. As it was, your cleavage was more than noticeable. You bit your lip but did not protest.

“The colour is marvelous,” The queen looked you in the face. “Are you well, my lady?”

“I am but…” You hesitated as the seamstress pinned the bodice. “There are matters we should speak of, your highness.”

“Yes, I think there are,” She nodded and gestured to the seamstress. “If you would excuse us a moment.”

The other woman acquiesced with a bow and quickly retreated. The door closed behind her and left you alone with Eleanor. She smiled and swept away from you to sit on a cushioned bench as the pins in her ashy blonde hair caught the light. She patted the cushion next to her.

“Sit, let us talk of what worries you so.” She cooed.

“Your highness,” You approached reluctantly. “I do not think myself fit for this. I am a poor dancer.”

“You are not so bad,” She said as you sat beside her. “Heavy-footed but not entirely hopeless.”

“Hopeless enough.” You grumbled. “Especially in a place such as this.”

“I know you shall do just fine.” She smiled. “But you do not refer to only the performance, do you, lady?”

“No, no, I do not,” You looked at your lap. “Surely, you’ve heard.”

“There are no secrets at court,” She returned. “I know my husband’s attention has strayed again. I hear Lady Rose and her detest, her complaints of her neglect. And it makes me most happy.”

“But the king…”

“The king does as he wishes. I cannot stop him but I can abide it so long as I am not met with nonchalance and scorn.” She held her head high. “I can stand any mistress but none who would shame me so openly.”

“I...I have refused the king. Every time. I do not wish to involve myself in your marriage. Your highness,  I admire you too much. I would never--”

“You’re a smart girl. I trust you are able enough but this court is perilous. Allies are rare but should be welcomed,” She pulled a loose string from the tail of your hood. “So long as you are...covert, I would have no reason to mind the dalliance.”

“P-pardon? Your highness, I don’t understand--”

“Do with my husband as you please. I know you, my lady. You are loyal and you will not so blatantly degrade me. If I must bear this marriage, I shall bear it with a mite of dignity.”

“I please none of it and yet he does not relent. If you are truly my ally, can you not stop him?”

“He will not relent. He never has and I’ve never been able to stop him. No one has.” She sighed and her long lashes flicked. “I do prefer you to Rose. Oh, I do very much.”

“You…” For a moment you gasped for air. The realization struck you in the chest. “You have maneuvered me thus, haven’t you? Because you knew the king would never tolerate your mistreatment of his mistress and so you thrust me before him.”

“I did not thrust you, my lady,” She smiled. “You were merely well-positioned at a most opportune moment.”

Your mouth was bitter with betrayal. The queen had seemed the only genuine character at court but in a moment, she revealed herself to be just as vile as the rest. Perhaps it was easy to pity a scorned woman but it was little excuse for the disgrace of another. You could not forgive her crime on the grounds of another done to her. You clenched your hands together as you tried not to scowl.

“And you expect me to appease him? To forfeit my virtue to him?” You stared at your skirts.

“I expect you to do as you think necessary,” She said, “But my husband gives little heed to what is necessary. To what it proper. He will take as he pleases, not as you please.”

You looked up at her. Terrified. “And you would not stop him?”

“Cannot.” She shrugged and a glimmer of regret flashed her in eyes. She pitied you. “It is not so bad. You will be taken care of after. A husband will be found, or if that does not please you, a household all your own. I swear it on my honour.”

“Your honour?” You scoffed. “You bartered me to your own husband.”

“A barter you could only dream of,” Her green eyes sharpened. “You don’t know, cannot know, what is like. To be ridiculed daily. To be tied to a man who can never love you, a court that will never accept you as their own.” She shook her head. “I did mislead you, I admit it, but only because I know you to be honest. To be without presumption. You would not bring me further shame because you fear it yourself.”

“Do you not realize that you’ve already brought shame upon me?” You stood and crossed the room. You couldn’t stand to be near her. “You are not a friend to me, my queen. I am...alone.”

Silence. You heard the rustle of her skirts but she did not near you. You turned as she reached the door. She adjusted a pin in her hair as she reached for the handle. She exhaled softly. 

“You will change so that the dress may be altered and you will go. And you will never speak to me as you have again. I am still your queen.”

👑

The day of the harvest arrived. The feast hall was draped in golden and bronze silks as the court gathered along the trestles. The benches did not overflow as dancers hid beneath the canopy just beyond the doors, awaiting their grand entrance to the plucking of lutes and trill of flutes.

You stood quietly, head down, hands clamped together as you recited the steps in your head. You weren’t prepared. No matter how often the master led you through the steps, you’d never be ready. You weren’t a dancer and you were too distracted to retain the simple choreography. 

A shiver went up your spine as a familiar voice met your ears. The space was tight and the performers were close. Steven’s laughter boomed in the small space and you looked up. The king and queen were at the front of the procession, several pairs between you. He was drawn by your movement and grinned at you before you shied away. The queen batted her lashes and took her husband’s hand. Her response was not heard.

“You should not be so nervous,” Lord Barnes intoned. You’d forgotten his presence beside you. “You are not so tragic as you think.”

“Ever gracious but a poor liar, Lord Barnes.” You huffed. “I have noticed how you’ve padded your boots.”

He chuckled. “Of the dozen pairs among us, do you think we would stick out so sorely?”

“I hope not,” You said. “Thought I apologize if I should make fools of both of us.”

“You are much too cynical.” He stepped closer. “You deny yourself even the slightest error. How can one find any pleasure in life with such suffocating restraint?”

“As a lord who would never face consequence for his lack of, I doubt you could understand the caution of a lady.” You returned. 

“Surely not. I could never be so pious. So...boring.” He mused.

You bristled and turned your face away from him. You looked around at the other dancers as they chattered and fidgeted in their impatience. Rose snarled as she caught your eye and shrugged off Lord Alan. You blanched and tucked your chin to your chest.

“I was teasing, my lady,” Barnes leaned in. “You needn’t take it so heavily.”

“I am aware, my lord. I can understand humour, as poorly as it may be presented.” You looked to him pointedly. “I may be plain but I am not simple.”

He laughed again. He glanced around and you followed his gaze to the door. The king peered between the bodies and watched intently. You stiffened and returned your attention to your partner.

“So I’ve noticed.” Barnes said. “As has he.”

“And you, his infiltrator?” You arched a brow. “Do you recount our every word?”

“I might be a loyal companion to the crown but I am no informant. What we speak of remains between us, I swear it.” He assured you. “But I might tell you something...most intimate.”

“So you would?” You prodded.

“I’ve known Steven since we were children. I know him better than any. I know him beyond the courtly disguise he wears.” Barnes faced you and took your hand. He drew you close. “As I stand near to you, he watches, he seethes, because he is quite taken by you.” His voice was low. “And the more you refuse him, the more taken he shall be.” He raised your hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “And he has rarely been refused in his life...he will not stand for it long.”

“Is this a warning or another message?” He dropped your hand and stepped back.

The queen’s voice rose above the babble and she clapped her hands. “Lords, Ladies, we are due. Positions, please.” 

She turned and the king raised his hand for her to take. Each couple mirrored them and you took Barnes hand as he stood side by side with you. He looked to his feet and pretended to kick the dust from his toe as he spoke under his breath.

“It is both, my lady,” He whispered. “A king’s requests quickly become commands.”

👑

“May I?” Barnes was beside you before you could flee. 

You’d hoped to cling to the wall until you could manage to sneak away. As late, you’d grown much too conspicuous for that. You turned back to him, caught in your retreat, and sighed. He was not the only to note your attempted escape. Your father sneered from his seat and the king raised his head above the queen’s as they spun along the boards.

“I wouldn’t pain you or your toes further, my lord.” You replied. 

“I can bear it,” He assured you. “And there is no other partner I wish. They’re all rather dull.”

“Dull of foot might be more painful than dull of wit.” You returned and he grinned.

“The wit does outweigh the foot, my lady,” He offered his hand. “Come on.”

Your eyes were drawn back to your father. He tilted his head dangerously. You couldn’t tell if it were to deter you from dancing or from leaving. You forced a smile and took Barnes’ hand. He guided you onto the floor lithely. His feet were swift and kept clear of your own.

“Did I mention how wonderful you look, tonight?” He marveled as you turned in time with the room. “The cut of that dress is quite complimentary.”

You kept your head high and did your best to follow the steps. “Thank you, my lord. That is kind of you to say.”

“Not so drab as that habit you wore before,” He japed. “Was it the queen who recommended the brocade?”

You stared at him. You struggled to piece together the puzzle. Did he operate upon his own resolve? Upon the kings? Or perhaps he was just as much the pet of the queen? Your lips pressed together as you peeked again across the room. Both king and queen watched you as they moved their bodies gracefully to the music.

“The queen did,” You answered evenly. “She was certain to see that all her ladies were attired fittingly for the event.”

You avoided his gaze as he watched you. As you tried to decipher him, he did the same to you. Your foot came down on his but he did not flinch as he smoothly guided you along the floor. The music swirled around you with your skirts as you were led in the jig. Your head spun with the candlelight and crowd of satin and silk.  He squeezed your hand and you looked to him. He smirked as the music eased to the next tune and he bowed to you. 

“My lady,” He said as he led you by your hand. 

As he turned you, you found the king waiting. You searched through the crowd, the queen was already swept up by Lord Samuel. She paid no heed to her husband’s ploy. You wondered if she were not a party to it. Lord Barnes released you and nodded to his king. “Your highness.”

“Would you allow me a dance, my lady?” The king coaxed.

You fought not to dissemble. You glanced around and found your father still watching. He leaned forward as he nodded. His hand was in a fist on the table. You didn’t dare resist. You took the king’s hand and let him lead you to the melody.

“My lady, you are more beautiful than I’ve ever seen you,” He said breathily. His eyes did not meet yours as they wandered to the top of your bodice. “I’ve found it most difficult to think of anything but you this night ...truly every night.”

“You flatter me, your highness.”

“I am honest. I bear myself to you.” He said. “And you still refuse my gifts? Still refuse me?”

“You know I cannot--”

“I know you are afraid but you haven’t reason to be. I shall protect you; from the queen, from the court. You shall be mine and I shall make certain you are kept well.” His blue eyes burned down at you. “I only long to give you everything. To give you all of me, all I ask in return is you.”

“You are married--”

“But not in love.”

“You are king and I am an earl’s daughter. Unwed and without betrothal.”

“As king, I can see to your future. I can give you title, a castle, lands…”

“So I shall lower myself to courtesan for you?”

“No, no, never. I shall raise you, my lady. Hold you in the highest esteem.”

“You shall ruin my reputation.”

“Can you not see how I suffer? My lady, you torment me so.”

“Your highness,” You stopped short and he nearly stumbled. “It cannot be. To prolong it will not change the circumstance that divides us. I do not seek infamy, I do not seek controversy, nor will I lower myself to be your mistress.”

“Lower…? I do not ask you--”

“You do. For what shall people say? What do they already whisper?” You rescinded your hand. “Your highness, you have not considered fully what you ask of me. You have not considered me.”

“I--”

“Excuse me, your highness,” You touched your stomach as it knotted. “I think I am unwell.”

He blinked, stunned. He bowed his head and you backed away from him. You readied yourself for his pursuit. For him to stop you. He did not and when he was hidden by the crowd, you turned and scurried to the door.

You didn’t slow until you reached an alcove just along the corridor. You were shaky as you leaned against the stone and caught your breath. Would the king be upset? Surely your father would but you could face his wrath as you had your entire life. You recalled Barnes’ words. Would the king cease to merely ask?

And who could save you? The king had a dozen allies and you had not one. The queen would not stop him, nor would his leal friend. Your father, surely, would find a way to assist him. Your own blood would sell you into scandal. You were so very alone.

A sole scuffed upon the stone and drew you from your reverie. A shadow loomed just around the corner and you tucked yourself into the alcove. You flattened your skirts with your hands and held your breath. The footsteps neared and you didn’t dare to move.

The king’s tall silhouette appeared before you. He walked past the alcove as he looked around. He sighed softly and hung his head. He tapped his toe as he stopped and hooked his thumbs in his belt. You watched, paralysed. 

He let out a disappointed grumble and turned back. The toe of his boot caught the hem of your skirt as it splayed out from your hiding spot and he stopped. He looked over and his eyes met yours in the dim of the lanterns. They pierced you through the shadows and his lips curved.

“My lady,” He greeted, “Why do you run from me?” He stepped forward. “Hide from me?” He lowered himself to his knees as he reached for your hands. “Can’t you see how desperate I am? How I am completely at your mercy?”

“Your highness, please,” You begged as he gripped your hands tightly. “Please, this is indecent.”

“My lady,” He brought your hands to his lips and laid a dozen kisses upon them. “I cannot wait. I’ve never waited so long and it pains me deeply. Every second I am away from you, I cannot think. I cannot live.”

“Your highness,” Your voice was coarse as you tried to escape his hold. “You would tarnish me.”

He released your hands and you tried to brush past him. He caught you around the waist and pulled you against him. He pressed his face to your stomach and kissed the taut brocade. He nuzzled into you and raised his chin to look up at you over your bosom. You caught his shoulders as you struggled with him.

“Please, please…” You could barely speak. You were terrified at his strength, at how easily he held you there. He walked forward on his knees as he pushed you back into the alcove until you met the wall. “Please…”

He dropped his arms and you felt your skirts lift and you sobbed. He lowered his head as he tugged at your skirts and you felt the cool air on your ankles. He bent and you pressed yourself to the wall. You could barely breathe as you watched him. He lowered himself until his lips met your slippers. He kissed both and sat back on his heels.

“Can’t you see, my lady?” He peered up at you. “You have me on my knees?” He bent to kiss them again. “I am yours.” He declared as he sat up once more. “Entirely yours.”

You clasped your hands before your chest. You were trembling. You could not speak as you stared down at him. He let your skirt fall back into place as he stood. His shadow enshrined you as he reached out to touch your cheek.

“Are you afraid, my lady?”

You nodded and turned away from his touch.

“You needn’t be for I shall find a way for us to be together. A proper way.” His fingers trailed down and he dragged his thumb along your lower lip. “I promise you, I will.”

For a moment, he held your face. His hand firmly cradled your chin and he leaned in until his breath was upon your lips. His thumb traced your lips and he closed his eyes. He let out a long sigh and pulled away from you suddenly.

“I will wait,” He said, though he spoke more to himself than you. “I will wait.” He opened his eyes and bowed to you. “My lady.” 

You watched him back away, too stunned to move as his shadow faded down the hall and his footsteps softened to silence. You cowered in the stone alcove until you were certain he was gone. At last, you found your strength and stepped into the amber light of the lanterns. 

Lord Barnes’ foreboding rang in your head; ‘A king’s requests quickly become commands.’

[mediocre--writing]

The One Where Jill Shows Up

(steve and jill series)

(jill is like 5 years older than steve)

oh ok so steve seems to put himself down very often and his parents are very dismissive of him, which could be a result of an older sibling and steve being… unplanned.

i feel like her name would be jill. both her and steve would have insanely long names because they’ve got posh parents.

so steve is like steven michael robert harrington or some shit. then jill’s name is jillian rebecca christine harrington

she’s like their perfect little girl, straight a’s, does community service, is cheer captain in high school, and she’s going to yale to become a defense lawyer. she’s their pride and joy.

but like 5-ish years after she was born, they thought they weren’t going to have more kids, because they weren’t really parent material. enter Steve.

jill became like a mother to steve as they grew up. she was there for him as often as she could be. when she got her driver’s license, her parents began leaving on longer and longer business trips and vacations, eventually just sending checks in the mail for food and stuff and coming home for christmas and jill’s birthday, steve’s if they had time.

it wasn’t like they didn’t love steve, he was their son, they loved him, but they didn’t plan on having him.

plus, jill turned out so well, steve will probably just follow in her footsteps.

except they failed to realize that they had completely contradicting personalities and steve just wasn’t an academic person.

even when jill went off to college, she tried to visit at least once a month, but eventually that turned into once every three months, then twice a year, then maybe she’d visit at christmas.

and all steve ever heard from adults is how much they admired jill. how cool it was that she was following his father’s footsteps and going into law. they asked if steve was planning to follow her and go to yale. maybe harvard?

steve couldn’t even get into community college.

jill showed up one grey, stormy day at the end of august.

steve and billy, who’d just recently been released from the hospital, were out running errands. groceries, picking up billy’s meds from the pharmacy, going to the little bakery on the end of the plaza to get bear claws and coffee.

as they reached the end of the long driveway that led to the harrington house and parked the car, billy asked the obvious.

“whose car is that?”

steve had never seen that car before. it was expensive, that much was obvious, but he wasn’t sure if it was his parents or not. his dad always bought red cars, and this car was a shiny silver camaro that looked almost just like billy’s did (before steve slammed into it on july 4th)

they grabbed the groceries and started walking to the front door, steve testing the handle before realizing it was unlocked.

there was music coming from the house, loud, obnoxious music.

“hey i love this song,” billy chirped up from behind steve.

as he said before, loud, obnoxious music.

they walked further into the house and steve took note of how everything looked the same as he’d left it, until he saw the only clue he needed:

the grey hoodie on the armchair that read ‘yale’ across it in navy blue block letters.

there was movement in the kitchen, along with the music, which steve guessed was probably metallica (he thinks that he’s heard this song in billys car a time or two).

as steve set the large bags down on the island and billy put the gallon of milk next to them (steve wouldn’t let him carry anything heavier), jill turned from the pot she was stirring on the stove and noticed the two boys staring at her headbanging.

she jumped back and accidentally slammed her hand onto the hot burner, yelping in pain as she shot to the sink, running it under cold water.

“stevie, turn the radio down, please,” she yelled over the noise.

steve did as told and then came to sit on one of the barstools around the island.

“why are you here?”

billy slapped steve’s shoulder lightly in reprimand for his rude comment.

“well, i’m not sure if you know this, but i used to live here,”

billy noticed that her and steve both had the same smirk and glimmer of chaos in their eyes when they made a snarky comment.

they also had the same dark brown hair and full cheeks, but sharp nose and jaw. jill was almost as tall, if not as tall as steve, had no moles or freckles that he could see and had green-ish/hazel eyes as opposed to steve’s brown ones. they were both relatively thin and long-legged, too.

“oh, wow, you’re so damn funny, jill,” steve snarked back.

jill was still running cold water over her burnt hand. so they were both clumsy as hell, too.

“can you get the hot chocolate off the stove, i don’t want it to boil,” she asked, more like directed, steve to do. he got up and pulled the pot off the burner, turning the burner off. “thanks,”

there was a few more beats of awkward silence that followed.

“so who’s your friend?”

billy sat up and smiled charmingly, “billy hargrove,”

“well, i’m jill,” she turned the water off and grabbed a bag of mildly cool peas from their grocery bags, holding it on her palm. “i’m sure steve talks about me all the time,”

“yeah, i have nothing to talk about but you and your loud ass mouth,” steve grumbled, getting another soft slap from billy.

“so, billy, are you sleeping with steve?”

both boys choked a bit at the comment, trying to not make their bulging eyes too obvious.

“why would you ask that?” steve questioned quietly, almost scared of the answer.

“well, you went grocery shopping together, so you’re living together. or billy stays over often.” jill shrugged as she leaned on the counter, “when i was putting my stuff in my room, there wasn’t anything in the other rooms that insinuated someone else was living here, then i peaked in your room because i was seeing if you were home or not, and there were leather pants, oversized jean jackets, and there was some hairspray brand that i know you refuse to use.”

billy and steve were caught red handed. they knew it. jill knew it.

“please don’t tell dad,” steve begged as sternly and un-childishly as he could manage.

“dude, i don’t care,” jill scoffed, turning to grab three mugs from the cabinet and pour hot chocolate in each one.

billy and steve were sharing a look that screamed “what the fuck are we supposed to be doing in this situation?”

“you’re… ok with this?”

“i go to new york city every other weekend when i’m in connecticut, what do you think i do there? study group?”

“but you’re not mad?” steve still didn’t believe her. he wasn’t sure why but this just seemed too easy. billy was stiff as a board next to him, too.

“that would make me kinda hypocritical, steve,”

billy’s head shot up at her comment and the clinking of mugs being placed in front of them. “you’re…”

“bisexual,”

another thing her and steve had in common, billy thought.

steve and jill were still at odds with each other, but, as steve took a sip of his hot cocoa, he figured they may get used to being siblings again. like they were before she ever left.

[kelyon]

Golden Rings 17: A Name

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Mrs. Gold revisits her past

Read on AO3

Mrs. Gold looked on in mute horror as Hunter Duke dumped more hot sauce on his triple bacon hamburger. He’d asked Ruby to give him three meat patties with no bun and steamed broccoli instead of fries. When Mrs. Gold had questioned that lunch choice, he had explained his new diet to her.

At length.

Hunter had always been the kind of boy who thought meat and spicy food were substitutes for a personality. He’d been the star athlete at Storybrooke High, taking home championships in football and wrestling. He’d been popular with everyone--except for the one girl he’d arbitrarily decided was the hottest girl in school. That girl, the valedictorian, hadn’t given the quarterback the time of day. Not until she lost her scholarship and suddenly dating the son of a lawyer sounded like the way to the best future she would ever get.

“They do the burgers way too overdone here,” Hunter said with his mouth full. “You don’t get enough protein if it isn’t bloody.”

Mrs. Gold shrugged and took a bite of her own burger. It needed more pickles, but it was still amazing. Toasted bun, crisp lettuce, a patty that was juicy but not messy. She hadn’t had a Granny’s burger in forever. When she was a kid, her parents had taken her out for burgers every Friday night after their shop closed. Mom would bring her own supply of extra-zesty mustard and Dad…

She set her bun on her plate. On those idyllic, bygone Friday nights, her father would spend the whole meal grumbling about money and expenses and couldn’t they have eaten at home? Mom had always told him to stop worrying and enjoy the moment. It was the end of another week and they were together, happy and healthy. She’d calmed him down and kept him focused, every time there was a crisis.

Until they faced the biggest crisis of their lives.

Mrs. Gold blinked out of her thoughts. For some reason, Hunter was still talking. Maybe it looked like she was listening. She’d gotten good at that when they had dated. Now that she was listening for real, she tried to catch up.

“I keep telling my dad he needs to just change the sign. ‘Duke & Duke & Duke’ has a great ring to it, right? Or he could for ‘Duke & Sons.’ I don’t mind sharing the spotlight with Steven. Or he could leave the sign as it is and retire! ‘Duke & Duke’ is classic, everyone knows we’re the best bankruptcy lawyers in town. Just let my brother be the first Duke and I’ll be second Duke and we’ll take this firm into the future! But Dad keeps brushing me off for some reason.”

Mrs. Gold took a sip of iced tea and desperately wished it was something stronger. “Did you… go to law school?”

She had the oddest feeling that she couldn’t remember how long they had been out of high school. All she knew for sure was that Hunter had enrolled at Storybrooke Community College--and she hadn’t. It was possible that he had gotten his bachelor’s. As Hunter was fond of saying, “Cs get degrees.” But SCC didn’t have a graduate program. Had he taken more classes on the internet? Or correspondence courses? It boggled her mind to think of Hunter of all people had gotten a law degree during the years she’d been Mr. Gold’s stupid slut.

“Well actually,” he explained, “you don’t need to go to law school to take the bar exam. I’ve got a bachelor’s in poli-sci and I’ve been around lawyers all my life. My dad knows everyone at the state bar. He’ll pull some strings and I’ll be all set.”

Mrs. Gold stabbed her straw at the ice cubes in her glass. It was so fucking unfair. Hunter was an idiot child who had never worked for anything in his life. His father--Richard “Big Dick” Duke--had bought him a Humvee when he turned sixteen, a speedboat when he graduated high school, and a college education just because no son of his wasn’t going to go to college. Now he would give his son the bar exam and a ready job and everything he would need for a future, without Hunter ever having to grow up past the maturity level of a toddler.

She’d lost her virginity to this boy. One summer night after senior year, in the back seat of that gas-guzzling monstrosity. They’d been dating for a while and Hunter had been perfectly content with her amateurish attempts at blowing him. But for her, the novelty had begun to wear off. So she’d suggested that he “put it in” instead. It was mostly a way for him to get his rocks off while she could just lie back and think of something more interesting.

Her memories of that night were dark and cramped and disappointing. She kept her shoes and her bra on the whole time. When Hunter was done, she had been more confused than anything else. This is what people made such a big deal about? Wasn’t sex supposed to be better than that?

It wasn’t until later, with Mr. Gold, that she had understood what people were talking about in romance novels.

But now that things were so strained with her husband, she found herself thinking back to the only other sexual partner she’d ever had. Looking at Hunter now, she had to remind herself of how bad things had been that summer, when he had been a welcome distraction. Hunter hadn’t wanted to talk about doctors’ appointments or shop inventory or arguing with financial aid departments--every fight a losing battle. All he wanted to do was drink, screw around, and have fun, and he welcomed her along for the ride.

I thought he would help us. I was wrong. He wasn’t what I needed.

Mrs. Gold shook the thought out of her head. The thought was true, but she recognized it as not being her own, so she talked over it.

“Have you been hanging out with any of the old gang? Sean or Jesse or anyone?”

It had been exciting to be included with the rich kids, to feel like she belonged in the world of the young and the reckless--people who didn’t have to worry about things because their parents would always be around to bail them out. They could do whatever they wanted because the world belonged to them.

Hunter shrugged. “Jesse’s an idiot, so no change there. But Sean’s been such a pussy ever since Ashley had her baby.”

Ashely Boyd had been in that group with her. Rich boys liked running around with poor girls because they were easier to impress than the rich girls. New Town young ladies also had parents who bought them cars for their sixteenth birthdays. They didn’t need to rely on spoiled boys to pay their way every time they went out, so they didn’t have to go along with whatever stupidity the boys came up with. Mrs. Gold had taken a lot of risks just so Hunter would keep thinking she was interesting.

But Ashley had loved Sean for more than his money and toys. All she ever wanted was for him to love her back and stay with her. Once, Mrs. Gold had thought Ashley was stupid for pining so hard after a boy who would never commit. But now she had a little more sympathy.

“What happened with Sean?”

“Mr. Herman kicked him out, cut him off. Now he’s living at Ashley’s place, working his ass off at the fish factory.”

“The cannery,” Mrs. Gold corrected quietly. Fish King Canned Foods was always hiring. It was always looking for people who could stand waist-deep in ice and fish guts for twelve hour shifts, operating machinery that could cut through a human hand as easily as it did a whole herring. Her cousin Andrew had gotten a job right out of high school. Her Uncle Peter had worked there for twenty years before he died.

“Like I said, he’s a total pussy now. All he does is work and hang out with Ashley, work and take care of the baby, work and sleep. You know he asked her to marry him a couple days ago? Utterly whipped.”

“Wow,” she said.

She had never respected Sean Herman, so it was weird to think of him actually growing up. People didn’t usually change around Storybrooke. But now the spoiled party boy was taking responsibility for his child and the woman who loved him. He had given up his own wealth and family status because he loved a penniless girl from Old Town.

It was impressive.

She finished her burger while Hunter started another monologue, this time about all the fat, lazy, poor people who came to his father’s office to declare bankruptcy. Forget being a lawyer, he should go into talk radio.

“I did ask you to lunch for a reason.” She grabbed her chance to talk while he was taking a breath.

“Oh yeah?” Hunter wiped hot sauce off his face with the back of his hand. “What’s up?”

“You know a lot of people,” Mrs. Gold said. “I was wondering if you might know somebody that I don’t.”

He slurped up the dregs of his diet soda. “Yeah? Who?”

Mrs. Gold gripped the edge of the table and desperately hoped he wouldn’t notice how hard it was for her to say this. The gold of her wedding ring was dull on this cloudy afternoon. “I… just have a name right now. I think it’s a woman named Belle.”

She could see the wheels in his head turning as he thought. “Belle? Hmm. I don’t know.”

“She’s probably young. Maybe our age. Maybe younger. Or older? Maybe she’s one of your mom’s friends or something?”

A woman as old as Karen Duke would still be younger than Mr. Gold. Maybe he was looking for more maturity now. In the days since she found out about Belle, Mrs. Gold had been racking her brain to try to imagine what kind of person she was. She was only moderately sure that Belle even was a woman. If Mr. Gold wanted this Belle person more than he wanted his own wife, she was probably the opposite of her in some crucial way.

Hunter made a face and scratched the back of his head. “Nah, I got nothing. Sorry.”

“Yeah,” Mrs. Gold looked down at her empty plate. “I’m not surprised.”

Seeing that they were both done with their food, Ruby came up to the table. “Now is this gonna be one check or two?”

It was almost funny how quickly Hunter looked to Mrs. Gold. He panicked at the thought of paying for his own lunch. Daddy must not be giving him an allowance anymore.

“You invited me,” he said, almost chiding her with the reminder of how things worked.

“Yeah, that was my first mistake.” Mrs. Gold took the check from Ruby and pulled out her purse.

A fifty would be enough to pay for two hamburgers and Ruby’s discretion. Not that Mrs. Gold was being particularly sneaky, arranging lunch with her ex-boyfriend at the most popular restaurant in town. But that didn’t matter either. She could take Hunter to the pawn shop and bang him in front of the cash register and Mr. Gold wouldn’t give a fuck.

And neither would she.

****

Wandering listlessly up and down Main Street, Mrs. Gold tried to keep warm. The clouds were dark and heavy with more snow. The sidewalks were shoveled, but there was always a residue of dirty slush. It was the time of year when trash kept showing up in the streets, no matter how many anti-littering signs Mayor Mills put up.

Mrs. Gold’s suede boots were more fashionable than sturdy. The same could be said for her coat, scarf, and hat. The cold seeped through her flimsy layers, until she was nothing but numb and damp, until it was hard to breathe, until she was so desperate to be warm again she resolved to go into the next open store, no matter which one it was.

Sugar’n’Spice was always warm and it always smelled good. Mara Trudine burned a different scented candle every day the shop was open. Today the candle was cinnamon and cloves. The whole place smelled like cider.

Mrs. Gold entered as quietly as she could. She hadn’t been in the store since before Christmas. And she had never walked through that door without strutting proudly, loudly announcing her intentions to buy whatever lingerie it would take to drive Mr. Gold wild.

Was Mr. Gold even capable of going wild for her anymore? Or did the sight of her just turn his stomach? He thought she was trash, she disgusted him, he didn’t want her and he never would again.

Ducking behind a rack of silky robes, Mrs. Gold took a breath to calm herself down. It was a bad habit she’d developed lately, thinking of the worst-case scenario just to make herself feel something. Her mind kept poking and prodding at her pain, pulling out her darkest fears and putting them front and center. She could push it away if she concentrated. If she tried to act normal, she could almost feel normal. Sometimes.

“Oh hey.” Mara had spotted her from the sales counter in the back of the shop. “Mrs. Gold, I didn’t see you come in.”

Steeling herself, Mrs. Gold walked out from behind the robes. “That’s me.” She tried to smile.

Mara stayed where she was. Bits of fabric were spread out over the counter. It looked like she was sewing something.

Mrs. Gold’s heart skipped a beat. The fabric was a shiny yellow-gold. Sometimes, when Mr. Gold was really pleased with her, he liked her to wear that color. Without thinking about what she was doing, she began to walk towards the counter.

“What are you working on?”

Mara looked up from her needle. Even after all these years, she had the same face she’d had as a kid--sharp brown eyes, adorably crooked smile, freckles all over her round cheeks. She looked so innocent. You’d never think she made a living off of unmentionables.

“Custom order,” she said proudly. “I’ve been trying to get tailor-made lingerie off the ground for as long as I can remember. Got my first order in October and more have been coming in.” She held up the fabric and Mrs. Gold saw a pair of panties that would go up to a person’s rib cage.

“Somebody wants that?”

Mara’s excitement dimmed in the face of Mrs. Gold’s skepticism, but she did her best to explain. “It’s shapewear,” she said. “See the reinforced panels? The idea is to smooth out tummy rolls and make a more flattering silhouette.”

Mrs. Gold looked over at the rack of Spanx. “Don’t you already sell that?”

“Yeah, but the stuff I make is sturdier than the mass-produced product. Better for people with non-standard bodies. And prettier too. Nothing over there comes in straw yellow.”

It was true. Most of the stuff in that section was nude or black. Mrs. Gold knew a thing or two about wearing corsets, but she had never actually needed one. She had thought Mr. Gold liked her to be skinny.

“That is a pretty color,” she said. “Who’s it for?”

Mara looked at her dubiously. “I can’t talk about a client, it’s confidential.”

“How are you planning on getting more orders without word of mouth?”

“Well, normally word of mouth comes from customers talking about the product, not a creator talking about their customers.”

Falling into old habits, Mrs. Gold tilted her head back as her voice went up an octave. “I know, but it’s just such a pretty shade of gold, I was wondering if someone special might have ordered it...?”

She let the question hang. Mara just frowned and shook her head.

“Come on, you’re smarter than that.” She held up the garment again. “This is for a plus-sized woman. Two of you could fit in here without straining the elastic. Mr. Gold didn’t order this for you.”

Without thinking, she leaned over the counter and got in her friend’s face. “Did he order it for someone else?”

Mara’s eyes went wide. Her mouth transformed into a tiny little O of surprise. Mrs. Gold pulled away and kept her eyes on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Gold said. “That was out of line.”

“Wow,” Mara said softly. “I, uh, I’d heard that something had happened. But I didn’t know it was that bad. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.” She turned around, pretended to look at something lacy until the urge to scream had passed. When she glanced at Mara, her brown eyes were trained on her.

“It’s not from him,” she said simply. “I’ll even tell you that my client paid with a credit card, so it was definitely her own money.”

Or maybe Mr. Gold was just covering his tracks. But at least he hadn’t called in the order himself. At least he wasn’t flaunting his disregard for her.

“Does he… Have you ever heard from him? Is he buying anybody lingerie?”

Mara shook her head. “I only see him on Rent Day.”

With nothing left to lose, she asked her old friend the same question she’d asked her ex-boyfriend. “Do you know anybody named Belle?”

Mara blinked. “I don’t… think so. The name sounds familiar, but I’m probably thinking of a character from a book or a movie. It’s not the sort of name you hear around Storybrooke.”

“No,” Mrs. Gold agreed.

“But I’ll keep my ears open, if you want.”

Mrs. Gold raised her eyebrows. “What about client confidentiality?”

“Well, whoever Belle is, she’s definitely not a client. And until Mr. Gold pays me himself, neither is he.”

You’re a good friend.

This time, Mrs. Gold didn’t swat at the thought that intruded into her head. She let it rest over her brain like a blanket. She let the thought warm her up.

She leaned against the counter and watched Mara work. The shapewear was fully constructed, and she was embroidering stalks of straw in a pattern along the sides. It was really pretty. The sort of thing that would give a girl a boost in confidence and excitement about her own body, her own clothes. Mrs. Gold remembered how fancy she’d felt the first time she wore something as simple as a bra and panties that were the same color. That sort of energy could get people through interviews or contract negotiations, any time you needed to feel powerful. Mara was helping people here, she was good at it, and it seemed to make her happy.

“So, business is good?”

“Yeah, it’s picking up. Valentine’s Day was a madhouse, but you know how that goes.”

Mrs. Gold nodded. Lingerie could be as popular as flowers when it came to last-minute gifts that men always thought would be cheaper than they were.

“Did you spend the day with anyone?”

Mara scrunched her nose. “I’m working too hard for that. Besides, I don’t meet a lot of single men in this business.”

She was able to snicker at the joke, and she was able to mean it. “Yeah, I guess not.”

They were quiet together for a minute, then Mrs. Gold asked a more personal question: “How’s your mom?”

Mara looked up from her embroidery for a second, but then went back to work. “She’s fine. I think she’s bored, now that the preschool is only open for half-days. She keeps asking me to move in with her.”

“I take it you don’t want to?”

A halfhearted shrug. “I don’t have a good reason not to. It would make sense, we could split the bills and keep each other company. But there is also something really nice about living by yourself. Even if it’s just a one bedroom apartment on top of your store.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Mrs. Gold drummed her fingers against the counter. She had gone from living with her father to living with Mr. Gold. The night after their anniversary had been the first time she had slept in any building by herself.

But she understood what Mara meant. When you lived with your parents, it was hard to feel like an adult. To make matters worse, Irma Trudine--Mara’s mother--had been a preschool teacher for as long as anyone could remember. She tended to treat everyone she talked to like they were a four-year-old whining for more juice and crackers.

Mama’s closest friend.

Now the voice was annoying her again. It was true that Irma and Mom had been good friends. That was why she had grown up with Mara as much as she had grown up with her cousin Janine. The three girls were inseparable, just like their mothers had been.

Until…

Mrs. Gold sighed. She was warmer now. She should probably buy something before she moved along.

“Do you have anything comfy around here?”

“What, like no underwire?”

“No, like pajamas, I guess. Or loungewear? I think I need to get a pair of sweatpants.”

Mara grinned. “The last time I saw you wear sweatpants, they had dinosaurs on them.”

“And they were fucking awesome.”

She had gotten those pants for her eighth birthday and worn them until the knees gave out. Even after that, Mom had cut them up for shorts and she’d worn them for another six months. If she could find sweatpants that had dinosaurs on them now, she wouldn’t think the mere act of wearing sweatpants was a sign of the end of her life.

But Sugar’n’Spice only had pajama sets with flowers on them--or hearts, but Mrs. Gold couldn’t bring herself to buy anything that looked like love. It was enough to buy comfort, something that would make it a little easier to be in her own skin.

Mara rang her up and gracefully accepted the extra fifty Mrs. Gold handed her.

“How about I call this a down payment on a custom order for you?”

Taking her bag, Mrs. Gold shrugged. “I don’t think Mr. Gold will want me in lingerie for a long time.”

“I didn’t say it was for Mr. Gold, I said it was for you.” Mara looked her steadily in the eye. “Come back some time and we can talk about what you need. Okay?”

She opened her mouth, and then closed it. “Yeah,” she said at last. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Good.”

****

The day wasn’t over. Mr. Gold was still in his shop. She could go there for a few hours of awkward silence. Or she could go back to the house, for a few hours of lonely silence. Then he would come home and make dinner. They would eat together and make stilted small talk. And then she would go to her bedroom, and he would go to his.

That was their life now.

He said he wanted her to stay. He said he wanted to take care of her. He said he loved somebody else.

It didn’t make sense. It was wrong. They were supposed to be together. Being near him, but not being with him, trying to act like everything was fine, trying to act like he didn’t matter to her as much as she obviously didn’t matter to him…

It was tearing her apart.

So she walked. Like a circling shark, she kept moving so she wouldn’t drown. She was trapped. Storybrooke was a small town, there were only so many places you could go in one day. And she had lots of days ahead of her. Mrs. Gold had the image of the rest of her life, stretching out to the horizon. She would have to keep walking, she would never be able to rest. She would never have a home again.

She was in Old Town now. The flower shop was behind her. Aunt Teri’s yellow and purple house was on this street. How many times had she walked the route between those two places? Her whole childhood, her whole life until she married Mr. Gold and moved into his house. She used to belong in this neighborhood.

Was there a way she could belong here again?

Turning at the plastic sign that said Hair Today! she went to the side door of the yellow house and knocked. Then she stepped away from the door and waited for an answer. She held herself against the cold.

Janine came up from the basement salon. Her mouth opened when she saw Mrs. Gold.

“Oh hi,” she said. “Mrs. Gold, you don’t… usually knock.”

“Yeah, I’m usually a bitch to you and I’m sorry.” She hadn’t meant to start that way, but she couldn’t avoid the truth anymore.

Janine’s eyebrows raised and her sky-blue eyes--a family trait--went wide. “O...kay,” she said slowly. Stepping outside, she shut the door behind her. The cold made her keep her arms crossed over her chest. “What’s going on?”

“I…” She didn’t know what to say. She had started, but what was the next step? “Things suck, right now, for me. And I kind of suck too. And I realized…”

What had she realized? That no one in her family would help her in an emergency? That she had built her whole identity around one relationship and without that she had nothing? That she had spent years intentionally, maliciously, pushing away all the people that had loved her in exchange for a man who only paid her? That all of those things were really fucking shitty? None of that was a realization. Mrs. Gold had always known what her life was. But she was just now starting to care.

“I realized I’m sorry,” she said. “For as long as I’ve been with Mr. Gold, I’ve been so caught up in him and it made me a worse person. And I want to be better.” She looked at Janine. “You deserve a better cousin.”

Janine sighed, her breath visible in the twilight. “So the honeymoon is finally over, huh? Are you tired of him or is he tired of you?”

Mrs. Gold pressed her lips together. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. At the same time, she didn’t begrudge her cousin the snark.

“He’s tired of me,” she admitted softly. “And I’m kind of tired of me too.”

Now Janine looked more sympathetic. “What happened?”

“You didn’t hear? I thought everyone in Storybrooke knew by now.”

“Yeah, no, I’ve heard a lot of rumors. But I’m asking you what happened. What’s the truth?”

“He loves someone else.” The words slipped from her mouth like a burden off her shoulders. “Some Belle person. And like, like he loves her, Janine. More than he ever loved me.”

“Oof,” Janine let out a long breath. “Oh honey, that’s terrible. I’m sorry.”

Until now, Janine had been standing in the doorway, and Mrs. Gold had been in the driveway, with about five feet between them. Janine stepped out first, one arm open in invitation. The two cousins met in the middle. They didn’t hug, exactly, but they huddled together for warmth and comfort.

“Do you need to stay with us?” Janine asked. “We never did anything with Andrew’s room after--”

“No,” she shook her head. Mr. Gold asked her to stay with him, and even that had to be better than sleeping in her dead cousin’s bedroom. “I’m fine, I… He’s taking care of me.”

“What, like alimony?”

“No, we’re not… I’m not leaving him.”

Janine pulled away. “But you said he loved someone else.”

She nodded. “He does, but he doesn’t want the marriage to be over.”

There was a moment of silence while Janine’s face twisted in anger and disbelief. Then she burst out: “Oh screw him! Does he really get to decide that? That man is cheating on you and you don’t even get the satisfaction of walking away? Come on!”

Mrs. Gold couldn’t look her in the face. “It’s not as simple as that,” she said. “I--I married him, I need him, I…” The next words were small and soft: “I don’t want the marriage to be over either.”

Closing her eyes, Janine pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead. “I don’t know what to say,” she said. “I mean, the sanctity of marriage is great and all, but Mr. Gold has been nothing but bad to you for so long. And now you have a reason to get out, but you’re not taking it? Why?”

“Because this is different,” she said the words before she knew what they meant. “He’s different than he was when we got married. There’s something… good about him now. Something kind and gentle. Something that wasn’t there before.”

Janine rolled her eyes. “So now you have feelings for the monster?”

“He’s not a monster now. Maybe he was before--I can see that more clearly now. But now the only thing he’s doing wrong is… not wanting me. And it hurts, but it’s not an evil thing.”

He’s my husband and I love him. Can you understand that?

Shifting her weight back and forth, Janine kept her arms over her chest. “And he’s not… hurting you anymore?”

She shook her head. “Not even in a way I like.”

“Gross,” Janine said, matter-of-factly. “I mean, good for you that it used to be something you liked, but it is very gross for me to think about. Too much information is a very real thing.”

Both of them snickered at that. The years of lingering tension eased a little more.

“Can you at least stay for dinner? We’re having Spaghetti-Os a la Chloe.”

“Chloe’s cooking?” How old was she now?

“It was her idea. Under careful supervision, she is going to dump a can of Spaghetti-Os into a pot and warm it up. Mom might even let her into the spice cabinet for some basil.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun.” She shuffled her feet. “But I should get going. I still eat with Mr. Gold. It’s… weird.”

“I bet.” Janine put her hands in the pockets of her work smock. “Listen, I… I’m sorry. All this time… I could have been a better cousin too. We--I think the general idea was that… we were waiting for you to meet us halfway.”

“I get that,” she said. “And I never came close to halfway. Not with anybody.”

“Well, you did today. And I’m glad. We missed you.”

Nodding, she tried to keep the tears out of her eyes. All this time, she could have had her family. If she had just eased up on being Mrs. Gold, she could have been the same girl everyone had loved.

“I’m trying to make things better now, you know?”

Janine nodded. “I know.” They were quiet for a minute, then she asked. “Have you talked to your dad lately?”

“Not yet,” she shook her head. “Not him or Uncle Manny. I… I kinda thought I’d start easy.”

Janine half-smiled, half-winced. “Manny will be happy to see you. You’re the only niece he’s got.”

She snorted. “I’m the only daughter my dad has and that didn’t make anything any easier.”

“He loves you, Lacey,” Janine said. It was the first time Mrs. Gold had heard her first name in as long as she could remember. “We all do.”

[just-my-fandom]

Over and Over (Steve Harrington x Byers! Reader)

Title; Over and Over

Pairing(s); Steve Harrington x Byers! Reader, Jonathan Byers x Sister! Reader, Will Byers x Sister! Reader, Joyce Byers x Daughter! Reader, Robin x Platonic! Reader, Billy Hargrove x Enemy! Reader

Season place; Season 3

Request; Maybe one with Steve (Harrington) where Reader is the oldest Byers sibling and is dating Steve (it’s after Nancy and Jonathan got together) and reader is kidnapped with Steve instead of Robin, and reader breaks down explains that she keeps dragging Steve into danger with the upside down and stuff (maybe she got taken into the upside down around season two?) and Steve reassures her that he’s staying to keep her safe. They escape the Russian base and end up fighting the find flayer and reader protects El from Billy which ends up getting the reader hurt, and Billy ends up protecting the reader and getting killed by the mind flayer and Joyce lets reader choose between staying in Hawkins with Steve (because shes 19) or move out with her mom and brothers (you choose)(I’m sorry it’s so long but I wanted to include as much detail asp!)

Warnings; Reader and Steve are beaten up, reader suffers from trama of the Upside Down, mention of blood, way too much fluff, angst

Tags; (okay, so I went back to the post I made for all my stranger things posts, and saw all of you wanted to be tagged in either all the Steve shots, or all of the stranger things shots, if you would like to be removed from the tags or added, please let me know!) @irreplaceable-ecstasy @rexorangecouny @fraeppuccino @spider-boyparker @itsfangirlmendes @tellmyselflies @xkotkuu @scarletmeii @krazykatkay456 @idumpyourgrass @strangerpotternatural

Upcoming One Shot; Leonard Snart x Reader

Note; At the moment I am only taking requests for Stranger Things and Marvel! This has a very long introduction so I apologize in advance! But I’m honestly super proud of this (very long) story so please enjoy!

Amount needed for 2k followers; 322

Gif(s);

The Byers family has been through a lot. It was obvious if you looked at any of the four members. In the last three years, one of the Byers siblings went missing, came back only for the other sibling to disappear, and when they were both safe at home, they had begun to see hallucinations.

Joyce Byers knew what she was doing, but people thought she was crazy. When Will first went missing, her Christmas lights flickered, she heard a voice in her phone that then burned itself out, and some thing came out of the wall.

Jonathan and Y/N thought their mother was going nuts. But it wasn’t until both of them, plus Steve and Nancy, saw the Demogorgan in their home and then put it to flames.

Will was safe, officially, after near months. But the family was still shaken. Seven months after Will had been found by Joyce and Jim, Y/N never met up with Jonathan at his car after school, and she was reported missing when she never returned home that night.

Then Joyce started getting the signs again. The Christmas lights that hadn’t been touched in seven months flicked occasionally, their new bought phone was burnt to the touch, but, thankfully, there was no thing in the wall.

Y/N was found in a short time span of three weeks. With the experience and knowledge everyone had from Wills disappearance, they knew how to handle the Demogorgans, and get you out of the Upside Down as quickly as they could.

Eleven succeeded in closing the Gate, bringing us to 1985. Your day in Hawkins was normal, or as normal as it could get. Jonathan had dropped you off at the Hendersons house on his way to work, Claudia calling you in to announce that Dustin was home from camp,

Then it progressively got weirder. Dustin claimed to have a girlfriend out of Hawkins and dragged you and the party to the hills, with a stereo in an attempt to contact this Susie. The party was quick to not believe his antics, which left you to feeling bad and stating you believed him (but did you?)

Then a Russian code was found on the stereo, which led you to Scoops Ahoy to break the code and figure out what secrets it beheld,

Now, in the time span of twenty four hours, you had snuck into a Russian base (with Lucas’ younger sister that took you a lot of convincing to join), been spotted by said Russians, and now you and Steve were probably going to die by Russians,

“Let me go!” Your hand had freed itself from the Russian guards grip, and you had ended up shoved into a wall, threatened, then dropped and tied to a chair, back to back with your boyfriend of ten months, Steve,

“I knew we shouldn’t have come here,” Steve hears you mumble this three times, before his hand, that too, were tied back, grabbed yours, holding it tightly,

“Hey,” His spoken words cause you to fall silent, “We’re gonna get out of here, yeah? Dustin, Robin and Erica are probably thinking of a plan right now,”

Your head falls back so it knocked against his, lightly, eyes shutting in an attempt to calm your racing heart and steady your breathing, “I can’t believe I let Dustin sneak into a Russian base, God, Ms. Henderson’s gonna kill me,” You drop your head forward, eyes pinching shut before you place your head in the before position, “This is my fault,”

“How is this your fault?” Steve turns his head, your own turning so your cheeks almost touched,

“I dragged you guys into this mess, since the beginning,” You tilt your head down, as your eyes began to burn from hidden tears, “The demogorgans, the hospital, now the Russians trying to open the gate, my family was envolved with it all. I don’t know why you stuck with me all this time,”

“It is not your fault, do you hear me?” Steven demands, bumping your shoulder so you lifted your head, “And I’m always going to stick with you, Y/N. I’m not going to let something like this tear me from you, I’m always going to keep you safe,”

“That was so cheesy,” You murmur, Steve grinning as he facer forward and leans his head back against yours,

“You do things to me, Byers,” He mutters, and you inhale a deep breath, ignoring the taste of blood on your tongue from where the Russian leader punched you in the mouth,

“What if we don’t get out of here?” You ask, quietly, almost hoping that Steve couldn’t hear you. You would only bring his confidence down,

“Then we’ll be together,” Steve answers, not seeing the smile your lips pulled into as your eyes shut in exhaustion,

You almost find yourself dozing off with Steve’s fingers linking through yours, for any search of physical contact, but the way the hidden rooms door throws open startles you to sit up straight, eyes snapping to the three people huddled at the door,

“Thank God!” Dustin hisses out a whisper yell, running forward to untie Steve’s hands as Robin does yours, pulling you to stand straight,

“Are you okay?” She asks, worriedly, eyes flicking to the blood at your lip, “You’re bleeding,”

“I’m fine,” You raise the sleeve of your plaid shirt to rub away the mix of dry and fresh blood, turning to Steve and holding a hand up to hover your fingers over the black around his eye,

“It looks bad,” You whisper, Steve taking your hand, and quickly kissing the back of it, he smiles,

“I’m fine,” He mocks, and you squint your eyes before following Dustin out into the halls, “Now how the hell do we get out of here?”

“Good news,” Dustin starts, “We found a way out. But it’s a bit of a walk,”

“Anywhere as long as it’s not here,” You grumble, and look down the hall that Dustin had pulled you into. The end was narrow, and it looked to be, without exaggeration, over a mile away, “Holy shit,”

“Told you,” Dustin waves a hand, and you share a glance with Steve, shrugging and walking after the young teenager,

. . .

“I can’t believe we made it out of there,” Robin throws her hands up and exhales an exaggerated breath, Erica scoffing beside her,

“I don’t know how you fools survived,” She crosses her arms, looking at Dustin then Steve, “He barely did with that black eye,”

“Hey,” Steve warns, eyes shifting to you when your walking seems to pick up, and he looks forward towards the group of nine in the food court,

“Y/N!” Joyce shouts, her figure moving away from Jim to run up to you, her hands coming up to your face protectively, “Baby what happened?”

“There’s a secret Russian base underneath the mall!” Dustin speaks up, as Joyce looks to him, and you step away from your mother to embrace Jonathan,

“It’s a long story,” Steve waves off, and you let Will tuck himself into your side,

“You okay?” You ask your younger brother, who nods meekly and smiles up at you, but frowns at your busted lip,

“Okay, we all have a plan,” Mike steps up to the new group, eyes flicking between everyone, “We’ll be going in groups, each group needs to take one of these,” In his arms are four talkies,

“Whoa whoa, where will everyone be going?” Steve asks, as you release Will to take a talkie,

“Someone still needs to go and stop the gate from reopening,” Lucas informs, and you furrow your eyebrows,

“Thats back at the base, we have to go back there?” You point to your lip, then to Steve’s eye, “We were kidnapped by Russians, we’re not going back,”

“That’s why your mother and I will,” Jim snatches one of the talkies, looking at you, “You and your brothers will be somewhere where it’s safe,”

“No one is safe right now!” You remind,

“Y/N’s right,” Mike swallows, “The Mindflayer is on it’s way here now. Billy too, so we gotta get in positions, quick,”

“Okay, fine,” You sigh, rubbing your temple, “Where’s everyone going?” You ask a repeat of Steve’s question,

“We have fireworks that will be able to slow down the Mindflayer,” Mike points to the box at Nancys feet, “All of us will stay up here and distract it long enough for the gate to remain closed. Once Billy gets here he’s going to go after El, so we need to keep them separated,”

“Think we can do that?” You frown, looking at Steve,

“I fought him once I could do it again,” Steve shrugs, and you squint your eyes,

“You lost that fight, Steve,”

“We don’t talk about it!” Steve protests, and takes your talkie, “We should spread out through the food court in case one of us is cornered,”

“We’re going down below,” Jim informs, and when he turns to El, Joyce is pulling on your wrist and pulling both Jonathan and Will against you,

“Please be safe you three,” She pleas, almost sniffling, “Take care of each other, do not let one or the other out of sight,”

“Yes mom,” You smile, sliding an arm around her shoulder, “Dont worry about us, help Hopper with the gate,”

“I will,” Joyce nods, hesitantly releasing her only daughter, looking up at Jonathan, “Please keep an eye on them,”

“Mom,” You groan, “Who’s the older sibling here?” Joyce steps back, waving as she follows Jim and Murray in the direction you came in,

“Okay,” Nancy claps her hands, heaving a deep breath, “Lets do this,”

“Steve, Robin, and Y/N, you guys can go behind the counter,” Mike lifts one of the boxes, handing it to Steve and giving you a lighter, “It’ll give you the front view. Max and I will find a way to get El out of here, Dustin, Lucas, Erica, Will, you guys take upstairs. Nancy and Jonathan, work on the car and see if you can get it working, then we all get the hell out of here,”

“Got it,” You nod, looking around when no one moves, “Go! Go, come on!”

Everyone darts to their designated spots, Steve leaping over the counter and squatting beside Robin, as you pick up a firework, inhaling quick, deep breaths,

“If you need us to take over, tell us,” Steve orders, watching you nod and raise to look over the counter, jolting when the glass roof above shatters, and a large -thing- jumps down into the middle of StarCourt Mall

You hear Robin whisper shout a rushed “Holy shit!” before Steve is shoving a firework into her hands, and he stands up beside you,

You fumble with the lighter in your hand and set the firework off in Steve’s grip, ducking in time for him to draw his arm back and chuck the firework at the MindFlayers front,

It explodes on one of the tentacles (thing) the MindFlayer shrieking out loud as the four kids on the second floor rush to the edge, all dropping their own fireworks onto the top of the monster.

“We’re already running out, quick,” You heave a deep breath, leaning up on the counter after a full five minutes of tossing firework after firework,

“What’d we do when we do run out?” Robin panics, moving to Steve’s other side, “Just stand here?”

“El can’t hold that thing or Billy off,” You wipe a layer of sweat from your forehead, watching in alert when Billy jerks Eleven to the floor and pins her. Billy was basically radiating anger. “Steve, give me your bat,”

“What?” Steve narrows his eyes, eyes flicking between you and the two feet away, “No. No way,”

“Steve, dammit, give me your bat!” You demand, hand out, “I’ve fought way worse things than Billy, I can take him,”

Steve clenches his jaw, lifting his nailed bat from its place leant against the counter, and he shifts it to hold out the handle, “Be careful. Beat his ass,”

You inhale a deep breath, stepping out from behind the counter and holding up the bat, eyes shifting between the MindFlayer growling and Billy snarling at El,

“Hey! Hargrove!” Your shout drags Billy’s eyes away from the young girl beneath him, his fury blown eyes instantly landing on your figure, “Get the hell away from her!”

“No, (Y/N/N),” Eleven begins to sit up, Billy putting a large hand against her face, slamming her head down onto the tiles so she shut her eyes in surprise, and remained on the floor when Billy stood up, his fists causing his knuckles to burn white,

“Come at me,” You mutter, swinging the bat the same way you’ve seen Steve do, “Come at me!”

Billy grins, booted feet stomping towards you, guiding you to walk backwards twice, startled,

“This is gonna hurt like a bitch,” You warn, Billy beginning to hurl at you, causing you to pinch your eyes shut and swing, the loud thud of his body forcing your eyes back open, shocked to see Billy holding his side, with multiple holes leaking blood from the nails of the bat,

“Holy shit,” You step back, looking up at the MindFlayer as it shrieked, “Holy shit. I did it,”

“Y/N!” Steve and Robin both call in a startled panic, and you lower the bat to turn to them, “Get out of the way!”

You look forward to find why they were freaking out, gasping when Billy grabs the bat, unharmed, jerking it from your hands and tossing it behind him, eyes narrowed,

You bite your tongue and slowly step back, Billy reaching out and grabbing the front of your shirt, shoving you onto the ground so your head, too, knocked against the concrete, forcing you to release a pained groan,

“Get me a firework!” Steve rushes, eyes wide as he waves a frantic hand to a fumbling Robin, “Come on!”

“Wait, wait!” Lucas and Dustin run up to Steve, Dustin holding up one hand, the other pointing, “Look,”

Billy had physically loosened his strength on your shirt, and his eyes now bored into yours in a mixture of confusion, surprise, and fear. You gasp in a deep breath as you stared back, eyes burning from the tears that threatened to spill

The roar of the MindFlayer jerks Billy’s head up, seeing that the MindFlayer was now leaning over Billy, who hovered over you, and Billy pushes away from the ground to sit back on his knees, standing up to face the MindFlayer,

You sit up onto your elbows, Steve running up behind you and grabbing your arms, pulling you back to hide behind one of the concrete posts and cover your head with a hand,

You’re not quite sure what happened after that. Billy was dead, for sure, being murdered by the MindFlayer straight to the chest. Jim Hopper was dead, too. The portal had exploded, your mother claimed that Jim was no where to be found. Two lives were lost that night.

“You okay?” You and Steve sat in the middle of your bedroom, piles of folded clothes, boxes, and little accessories litering the carpet floor,

You look up from where you folded a pair of jeans, Steve lowering the shirt he was folding to stare at you,

Your lip had begun to heal, the paramedic claiming that a scar could be possible where the cut split into your chin,

“Yeah,” You nod, setting the jeans into the box and picking up the picture frames beside you, dragging a box labeled ‘Fragile’ up to you, “I’m just thinking,”

“About what?” Steve move the box of jeans to scoot up closer to you, waiting for you to close the fragile box before taking your hands,

“Everything,” You release a breathy laugh, swallowing down the lodge in your throat, “Everything with the Upside Down, losing Bob last year, us. We’ve made so many memories here in Hawkins, so many fights, so many sleepovers with the party. I’m not ready to leave it behind,”

“I know,” Steve sighs, your head looking down before raising when he curls a hand beneath your jaw, “Hey, we’re gonna be okay,” Steve smiles, “We got this. Just you and me, Y/N and Steve,”

“That rhymed,” You snort, Steve rolling his eyes,

“Move in with me,” Steve murmurs, and you almost don’t hear it even though his nose is touching yours,

“What?” You lean back, slightly, meeting his eyes for any signs of a joke,

“Move in with me. We’re both over eighteen, you’re an adult now, and my parents love you, they’d love for you to live with us,” Steve suggests, standing at you,

“But what about my mom?” You breathe, shakily, “My brothers?”

“Y/N, you can’t always depend on your brothers to be there,” Steve admits, honestly, “Jonathan’s gonna want to move out soon, too. Your mom needs to remember you’re not a baby anymore,”

“Do you really think your parents will let me stay?” You ask, Steve smiling and shrugging a shoulder,

“I already talked to them. It’s all up to you and you mom, babe,”

You inhale a deep breath, looking around at the boxes surrounding you. You nod, standing up, “I’ll be right back,”

You step into the hallway of your now empty house, making your way to the kitchen where you knew your mother was packing silverware, “Mom?”

Joyce looks up from lowering glass plates into a cushioned box, smiling softly at your figure, “Hey, sweetie. You and Steve almost done packing?”

“We have a couple more boxes left,” You answer, quietly, stepping further into the kitchen, “Mom, can I talk to you?”

Joyce closes the box with tape, scribbling ‘fragile’ on the cardboard before looking back up at you, “Sure, sweetheart, what is it?”

She notices your jaw shift from biting down on your tongue, a habit of worry you’ve gained when you were younger. You fiddle with your hands, before meeting her eyes, “I think I want to move in with Steve,”

Joyce blinks, slowly at your words, and you can see the gears in her head moving, “Are you sure?”

You suck in another breath, nodding, quickly, “I’m sure. I really love him, mom. I don’t think I could handle leaving, and I love Hawkins so much. I’m nineteen, I think it’s time for me to leave the nest,”

“I know,” Joyce blinks again, wiping away the tear that escaped her eye, “I know you’re not my little girl anymore, and I guess I need to accept it,” She smiles, nodding, “You can move with Steve,”

“Seriously?” You gasp, Joyce laughing when you round the table to embrace her, “Thank you, so much,”

“I love you sweetheart,” Joyce wraps her arms right around your back, sniffling, “I better get phone calls weekly,”

“Yes mom,” You lean back, Joyce cupping the side of your face delicately,

“I need to tell your brothers,” Joyce sighs, looking towards the open door where Will and Jonathan were loading boxes into the Uhaul with the party,

“I’m going to let Steve know,” You pull away from her, almost skipping back to your bedroom at the end of the hall,

Steve notices your wide and teary smile, standing up so he was eye to eye with you, “So...?”

“I’m moving in with you,” You walk up to him, Steve smiling and pulling you against his chest, lips pressing to your temple, longingly,

“I love you,” He whispers, hearing the footsteps of your brothers, “I know it’s going to be hard leaving them,”

You smile, leaning back in time for Will to stand at your bedroom door, eyes watering, “You’re not coming with us?”

“Hey buddy,” You tug on Wills arm to sit him beside you on your bare mattress, your arms sliding around his shoulders and pulling him against you, “It’s time for me to go out on my own,”

“But what about,” Will looks at Steve and Jonathan, then back to you, “What about when I have nightmares from the Upside Down?”

“Then you can call me, always,” You squeeze him tighter, sniffling, “I’ll give you the number to Steve’s house phone, if you ever need me, no matter what for, call me,”

“It’s gonna be weird with only one girl around the house now,” Jonathan presses his lips together in a tight smile, looking at Steve, “Hurt her and I’ll drive back how many hours to beat your ass,”

“Don’t doubt it,” Steve grins, and looks over when Joyce steps into the bedroom,

“We’re set to leave,” She informs, quietly, noticing Wills tears, “Oh honey, I know it’s hard not having Y/N come with us,” She moves forward, arms wrapping around you and her youngest, “But it’s gonna be okay, we’ll always come down for holidays and vise versa,”

“Love you mom,” You sigh weakly, leaning into her shoulder. Her arm around you tightens, before she leans back and wipes her cheek,

“I set the keys on the kitchen counter,” She looks at Steve, “You two can finish packing your things, lock the door when you leave,”

“No problem Ms. Byers,” Steve plays a salute, and Joyce smiles, standing up to her feet,

“We should get going,” After fifteen minutes of constant hugs between the party, you wave to the car and Uhaul driving off, your waves becoming more frantic before they turn a corner, out of sight,

“Ready?” Steve extends his hand, to lead you back into the house to finish packing. Your eyes look down at his hand then up to your childhood home, before you take his hand in yours, to the beginning of a new life in Hawkins.

[nostalgic-pancakes]

Room 73- Chapter 1/8

There is a being that lives in the chemistry building of Haley-Dove Secondary. It has been there longer than anyone’s living memory, and nobody questions it anymore.

Pairing/s: (Eventual) Romantic Prinxiety, Loceit and Pintroverts/Karrot Kings, Queerplatonic Intruality and platonic DLAMRT(N) with mentioned background Kailliot. Romantic (married!) Remile and mentioned Sanders Shorts characters.

Read on AO3!

Word count: 2950

Warnings: Mentioned bullying, allusions to the foster system, perhaps minor disassociation? Paranormal elements.

Other notes: So many thanks to my Beta (!!!) Juicyboxers for looking through this fic for me- and teaching me so much stuff about dialogue!! So if you notice that the dialogue here is better than the dialogue on my other stuff, than thank him!

Anyways, without further ado... (tinny drumroll)

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

There is a being that lives in the chemistry building of Haley-Dove Secondary. It has been there longer than anyone’s living memory, and nobody questions it anymore.

It’s a strange one, a space completely fuzzed out by something resembling static, but if that static could exist, could take up space, be real in a way static really can’t be.

The being lives on the third desk to the right, second from top, room 73. It seems to be on friendly terms with the thing that sometimes screams in the courtyard and the witch who lives in the woods surrounding the town. It doesn’t seem to like the slamming locker much, but it doesn’t hurt anyone, so nobody cares.

It lingers, at that desk, watching boys and girls and everyone in between study the sciences as the years go on, seeing the building as a boy’s school, then a bomb shelter, then a public school classroom, watching. Nobody knows what the being is, really, but it’s there, so nobody will say anything.

Across the country, three people grieve quietly.

…

”BEEP, BEEP, BEEP”

“Shu-Shuddup, Pat...” Groaning slightly, Janus lifts his covers from his head, just a little, to flip the bird at his brother, who clearly understood the concept of ‘don’t wake someone up before sunrise’. “...lemme sleep.”

Pat doesn’t seem to realize this, clearly and he continues making obnoxious beeping noises at him. Stupid Pat and his relentless cheer never letting Janus brood enough to fit the aesthetic.

“Alright Pat, let’s get up then. Besides, this has to be better than middle school.” Janus feels bad almost immediately for bringing that up because Patton’s eyes cloud over some, before clearing themselves up and his brother smiles again, a little wider, beckoning Janus out of bed.

“Pat, could you pass me my cape?” asks Janus, holding out his hand expectantly. He’s moderately surprised when there’s nothing there after a few seconds. He glances over, and his brother’s looking at him a bit cheekily.

“Aww Janny, couldn’t you possibly go without it for our first day? You wear it all the time!” Patton replies, picking up the cape and throwing it to him, Janus catching from below. It’s routine.

“No, and you know it. Now, slacks or skirt?” asks Janus, sifting through the small clothes pile Patton kept out for the week

“Skirt, please! The one with the suspenders?” “You have no taste”

“Says the guy wearing the cape, Jan.” when Patton takes the skirt, it brushes against the wall first, promptly setting off a chorus of whispering flowers gossiping. Jamus is really, really lucky that Patton hasn’t realised that that’s a viable way to wake him up.

Deeming themselves acceptable, they both go downstairs, with Patton skipping down the steps more than anything, and Janus trying to avoid the cracks on the eighth, sixth, and second steps. The shadow in the creaks always snarled at him if he stepped on a crack, and it was, frankly, annoying.

Emile and Remy were already in the kitchen, Emile making (slightly charring) breakfast and Remy brewing coffee while simultaneously downing his fifth cup of the stuff, shifting from foot to foot to some mid-2000’s pop playing from Emile’s phone.

“Hey there, small fries! It’s eggs and toast for breakfast, so gobble up before you go- breakfast is the most important meal of the day!” Exclaims Emile, as soon as he catches sight of Patton’s yellow skirt in the stairwell. Remy looks up from the coffee pot, acknowledges Both Janus and Patton’s existence, then nods and brings out two more mugs, one yellow and black and one yellow and pink onto the kitchen island, next to the Steven Universe and ‘I’ll sleep when I’m Dead’ cups respectively.

“Hi, Emile! I’m so excited for today- do you think Jan and I could make some friends today?” asks Patton, still smiling as he elbows Janus for the latter part of that sentence. Janus turns around, knocks the perpetrator’s elbow, and grins, sitting down to accept his burnt eggs and coffee while Patton gets his burnt eggs and sugar concoction. Remy takes up the seat on Patton’s other side, grunting as he downs his sixth cup of coffee and Emile swoops into his husband's space, plucking the empty cup from Remy’s hands and not letting him get a refill. Remy grumbles a bit, but there’s no real malice- this is routine, always has been, as long as there have been witch-hazel plants growing along the house and as long as Remy and Emile have known each other.

Emile plops down with his breakfast and his coffee mug- always too much milk- and turns to face Patton, straightening his sweater vest, beaming in a way that fools a lot of strangers into thinking that Patton’s actually biologically related to him.

“I think you two can, Kiddo! With the right people, you and Jan could set the world on fire!” he cheers, and even though the smile’s a bit smaller around the end, the statement is sincere.

“Hey, arson is fun.” quips Janus, and Emile gasps, but clearly is holding back a grin, while Remy is straight-up (nah) cackling, as Patton chokes a bit on his eggs at the deadpan delivery. Janus doesn’t make an expression, just puts another bite of eggs in his mouth, scraping the edge of the plate with his fork. He cringes at the sound some, but it’s over in a second, thankfully.

It’s only about ten minutes later that he and Patton are at the doorway, book-bags packed and ready to go, with Remy and Emile waving, does Janus finally realize that yeah, High School is starting, and he’s terrified. A year without Patton at his side constantly is crazy- they only have two common classes, and that means this year will have the longest amount of time they’ve ever been away from each other since meeting every day. Patton’s scared too, Janus can tell, because the hand that he’s using to play-guide Janus around (“Because you’re a SLOWPOKE!”) grips tighter and tighter every metre closer to the bus that the two of them get, till it’s nearly bruising, the same colour of the whispering flowers down by the creek.

But they make it to the bus in time, and it’s good that Patton and Janus are holding onto each other so tightly, because of the swarm of kids piling in. Without that grip, they might not have been able to snag an empty seat to sit in together, right across a kid their age, sitting with his back ramrod-straight, wearing glasses and… going through this year’s textbooks? Nerd. But hey, Janus likes dissecting Shakespeare, so what can he say?

The bus starts going, from dirt paths in the residential area to a better built road as they all get closer to the main town, with the offices and shops and buildings and well, the school. Everyone looks a little exhausted, and some even look a bit excited, but nobody here is really memorable except for textbook-kid. Midway through the ride, as the view of the woods on everyone’s right starts thinning out a little, the witch who lives there waves, and her daughter, who’s apparently on top of the seats, in the luggage shelf (because buying buses from airports makes total sense), hangs upside-down, grinning wildly with her tangerine-colored hair falling out first, as she waves to her mother, still wearing her gathering-dress. She vanishes again soon after, lugging herself back up, but that’s no matter. She seems happier there anyway.

As the sun starts to rise in earnest, a lot of the night plants growing along the bus poles start shrinking away, letting the morning glories take centre stage for a while as the bus pulls over into the schoolyard, with the kids who took their bikes here already in their classrooms or on their way there, it’s a bit of a frenzy.

Janus takes a look at Patton, whose nerves that had been kept at bay for the moment while taking the scenery coming back in full force, and tries to smile for him. His brother deserves that much. Patton relaxes, and gives Janus’s hand one last squeeze before getting off the bus, and immediately hunting for his homeroom. 9-D, Janus thinks. He’s in 9-C himself. He sighs and trudges forward, seeing the witch’s daughter and glasses-guy enter the same classroom and hoping this doesn’t end like middle school.

…

Logan and Virgil Varma are in no way looking forward to school. Never have, really. Brings too much back about being too ‘weird’, or ‘scary’.

“Pssh, other kids are scarier” mumbles Virgil darkly under his breath while putting his bike away. He notices Logan behind him, fresh off the bus, putting his biology textbook in his bag (more like stuffing it, but Virgil isn’t about to say anything)

“Virgil, I do not think that you should say things like that when ‘other kids’ can hear you, especially if I could hear you-” Logan’s cut off by Virgil, who smirks.

“Three feet away, I know, L. But you have one thing nobody else does-”

“Superhuman hearing!” They finish off together, knowing this routine by heart and then some. Logan giggles, and Virgil automatically feels better than before for making that happen. His smirk turns into a bit more genuine of a smile as they finish the walk into homeroom together, in the same room for once, thank fuck. Virgil really needs to thank his Mom for pulling that off. She really pulled some strings for Logan to have a better year this time ‘round.

9-C. That’s his and Logan’s homeroom. When Virgil looks inside, he sees a… decently eccentric class lineup. There aren't many high schoolers in this place, so there’s only about ten people here. Hildi, who he’d hung out with in middle school, who waved at him enthusiastically, fiery hair flying about. It’s infectious, so Virgil smiles a bit back and waves too, albeit a little less excitedly. Well, there’s one person Virgil knows.

There’s a person just behind her who’s dressed up like a nineteen-twenties mobster, with the yellow-black aesthetic and cloak. He has a giant scar along the left side of his face which looks a bit like snake scales, so Virgil’s going to dub him ‘Snek Boy’ for now. There’s two people next to him, too. One looks like the ‘Chad from the horror movie’ archetype incarnate, and is flicking spitballs at the other kid in front of him, who smiles and passes him a stim toy. That person’s most likely an introvert, with all the pins on his stuff. Well then hello, fellow pintrovert.

Virgil inhales, knowing that he’s about to run out of time to stay at the doorway without looking weird, and takes the seat just behind Logan. Back row, no sun from the window. Logan turns back to face him, and Virgil does his best to smile reassuringly. He’s… relatively sure it worked, because Logan smiles as well, adjusts his glasses and turns back to face the front of the class, where the teacher enters. They look decently severe, tall, and wearing a tweed coat over a sweater vest, in extreme contrast to his dark skin tone. He puts his files down, cleans his glasses and turns up to face the class.

“Hello. My name is Corbin Robinson, and I’m your homeroom teacher for this year. I use he/him pronouns!” the severe expression tapers off into a bit of a smile as he finishes off his sentence. “Now, could all of you come up here and introduce yourselves? Preferably with your preferred name, pronouns and one fact about yourself that pertains to your personality!” he takes out a notepad, and steps to the side. Chad walks up and clears his throat after about ten awkward seconds.

“Uh, hi! My name’s Brian. Brian Cornwall. I use he/him pronouns. This is my boyfriend’s jacket! We’re wearing each other’s jackets for good luck today!” Ch-Brian finishes. He’s blushing furiously by the end of his statement, but the entire room (Virgil included) is clapping for him anyways, so he ducks down a bit to go back in his seat. Professor Corbin’s looking at Virgil now, and what is he gonna say what if he’s dumb and says something wrong and--

Hildi hops up to the front of the room, and Professor Corbin’s attention is on her for the moment. Thank god. She winks at him, and he smiles weakly back.

“Hi! I’m Hildi, the witch’s girl and I use she/her pronouns! Fun fact about me… uh, I once got to find out who’s hand the disembodied hand in plaza belonged to- Some guy called Andy from the thirties.” Hildi finishes with her hands crossed on her heart, the typical greeting that her coven uses. Virgil nods and crosses his hands as well.

Professor Corbin’s eyes wander around the class, to find whoever hasn’t spoken yet, and they land on Virgil. Since Hildi’s gone up, the eyes stay there. Virgil takes a steadying breath, and fiddles with a loose string on his hoodie.

“H-hi, I’m Virgil. Virgil… Sanders.” Great he’s already fucking this up why did he do this--

Okay, breathe. In two three four, hold two three four, out two three four five six seven eight.

“I use he/him and they/them pronouns, but I don’t really mind whatever you do end up using for me, and uh… fun fact about me?”

“I’m a twin, and my twin’s the coolest person on this planet.” he finishes, and tries his best to smile over the nerves. He feels good, though, praising his brother. Logan smiles, properly now, even as he burrows himself into his shirt best he can. Virgil smiles back, and makes his way back, trying to get his breathing back under control. It works, and he’s breathing just fine by the time Logan walks up, shoulders set.

“Hello,” he waves. “My name is Logan Ejiah Sanders, I use he/him pronouns and am Virgil’s twin. A fun fact about me is that I only use blue coloured stationery.” Logan finishes, clipped as ever. He’s careful with what he shares these days, and using solely blue stationary is something that can just be summed up as a personality quirk, instead of something wrong, the kinds of wrong that made teachers sigh and avert their gaze or puff irritably or what made him cannon fodder to other kids.

Logan’s nervous, and Virgil wishes that he could’ve done something sooner.

The introductions slip by after that, Janus, he/him, vitiligo scar, Nico Flores, they/faer, aspiring writer, because Virgil’s too floaty to care. Hildi passes him a floating earbud, and he takes it.

…

Roman really doesn't know what to expect from high school. In the stuff he reads and watches, it's portrayed as this ecosystem with really strict rules. His family calls it the most idyllic time of their lives. College students call it hell. So yeah, Roman's confused.

Remus is in a different class entirely this year, which isn't weird, so he doesn't know why he thought that? Stupid brain.

Roman was already in a shitty mood, having had to skip out on seconds of bacon because he'd already eaten too much this morning and might have to miss lunch later for club sign-ups, which is terrible. He's hoping that at least his class isn't too bad this year. Haley-Dove is a small town, but small doesn't always mean nice. He'd know.

(Roman can't get the words out of his head anymore.)

Both Mitchell and Croft were forced to change schools from Haley-Dove Secondary but what if there are new people?

Roman shakes the thoughts out of his head. School. First day. Homeroom. Class 9-D. This is doable. Just breathe, 4, 7, 8 and walk into the classroom. You can do it Roman, where's that confidence? Wait don’t answer that question just GO--

bump

“Hi! Sorry, I was so clumsy. Hey, I’m Patton!”

Roman first needs to decode that sentence before answering. Okay- Patton, sorry for bumping into Roman. Okay. Greeting, so greet back. Performance time, baby!

“No problem, Patton! I’m Roman!” Patton visibly cheers up in front of him, skirt swishing sideways a bit in the wind. Patton notices Roman looking at the skirt starts talking again.

“Uh.. he/him pronouns- but my gender is weird, yanno?” Roman did not know, but it seemed to matter to Patton, so he nodded and smiled a bit.

“Tis alright! I use he/him as well! Now, what homeroom address have you got, dear Patton? Let us make haste!” Patton giggled at Roman’s antics, meaning it was working. Good. Both of them fish into their pockets for a piece of paper they got at the entrance, unfolding it. Roman’s reads 9-D, as expected, along with Pattons’s.

“Hey- this means we’re in the same class! Woo-hoo! That means one new friend, huh kiddo?”

“Kiddo?”

“Sorry, I call my friends that.” Patton looks sheepish, as if he doesn’t expect Roman to react well.

“Oh no problem, dear Patton! I look forward to going through this year with you!” they both giggle, and Roman actually feels like they can be friends- Remus will be proud.

“Well, I am too! C’mon, let’s go- we’re already a bit late for homeroom.”

Roman looks at the clock- 8:02. They are officially two minutes late. Remus is probably in class already, if not just to pull a prank on the new homeroom teacher, meaning Roman had better get to class already.

“Yes! Onward! To academic achievement!”

…

The chemistry room is a little cold all of a sudden, and something has clearly woken up.

School’s in session, everyone. Hope you’re ready for this.

[heavenlymisa]

red carpet reassurance. (part one.)

Erik “Killmonger” Stevens x Black!reader

warnings; The n-word, fluff, fear, cuteness :) this takes place four months after “bounce back to a throwback”. if you haven’t read it yet, then go below and click “Masterlist” :) 

summary; Your boyfriend, Erik, invites you to go to the Grammys with him. Being the best girlfriend you are, said yes, without thinking of the consequences. The day of the grammys you get cold feet, now it’s up to Erik to calm your nerves.

an; a special and magnificent shout-out goes to @ljstraightnochaser​ for giving me some more ideas for this lil series i got! <3 I apologize for not posting this sooner! Covid-19 has been on my ASS-

<< Masterlist >>

It’s been a couple of weeks since the whole instagram live’ fiasco went down and you couldn’t be any happier. You expected it to crash and burn like a lot of people who date celebrities, but it turned out different than you expected. Erik’s fans absolutely adored you. They would always ask about you when he gets on live and he just can’t help but be all giddy inside when that happens.

Right now, you were laying on top of Erik on the couch in the living room, watching tv. Erik was tracing random patterns on your back when he randomly asked you a question.

“You wanna go to the Grammys with me?”

“Hm..?”

“I said..” He lifted your chin softly so you would look him directly in the eyes. “You wanna go to the Grammys with me, ma?”

You gasped softly. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” He said with his cute lil’ smile that clearly showed his dimples.

“You can meet all your lil’ artists that you like so much.”

“But, babe, I already met you.” You said while adjusting yourself to straddle him.

He sat up, wrapped his arms around your waist and laughed. You absolutely love his laugh. He does laugh often, but you love it even more when it’s only you hearing it.

He licked his lips and looked at you directly in the eyes. 

“Please Mami..” (Use this link for reference ) 

“Oh my god.” You tried you get away from him, but he tightened up his arms around your waist.

“Plleaasseee Mami.” He pleaded.

“Erik! St-”

“Mami mami mami mami PLEAASSEEE.” He gently shook you while you laughed.

“Por favor?” He said quietly while looking up at you with puppy dog eyes.

“Okay fine!” You said while rolling your eyes. “But only so you’ll stop begging!”

“But my begging worked so I’m not complaining.” He said with a smirk.

You laid back down on his chest and continued to watch T.V. while Erik rubbed your back. After a while, you started to think about how the Grammys would turn out. Would I even look good? Will everyone look at me like I’m a clown? I hope I don’t look a hot mess. Thoughts like that swarmed your mind until Erik cupped your face with both of his hands and turned your head to face his.

“Ma, you aight?” He said with concern written on his face.

“Yeah... I’m fine.” You said while putting a small smile on your face.

“Aight...” He kissed your lips. “You were making that face you always make when you think really hard..... I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“Aw, Baybeee....” You kissed his cheek.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“It’s my job to worry about you!” He said while lightly shaking your head. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t worry about my, babygirl? Hm?” He laid your head back down and dramatically started rocking you like a baby.

You broke out into a fit of giggles while Erik tightened his grip around your torso and rocked you intensely.

“E-Erik!! S-StAW-”

“I’m showing you that I care about you, babygirl!” He said in-between grunts.

“You’re gonna fling us off of the couch!” You said while trying to escape his death-grip he has on you.

He stopped rocking and locked eyes with you.

“But, it’s my job to worry about the most important girl in my life. Don’t forget it.”

You rolled your eyes and laid back down on his chest. “I won’t”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 1 week later ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“Are you going to the Grammys? Yeah, Y/N is coming with me too. So i’m sure it’s gonna be really fun.” Erik licked his lips before leaning into phone to read some more comments off of his Instagram live.

“Are you nominated for the Grammys? Yup yup. I’m nominated for uh... Best New Artist, Best Song, Best Record, and Best Album.” He turned around to be met with his girlfriend sleeping peacefully on the bed. Erik rubbed her shoulder and turned around back to his phone.

“Do you guys have outfits picked out? Not yet, but whatever Y/N wears, she’s gonna look good.” Erik smiled to himself before continuing to read his comments until he fell asleep.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 3 weeks later ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“BABY!” You felt something soft hit you on your back.

You grumbled incoherent words and turned over on your side.

“So we doin’ that now... Aight...”

You heard footsteps walk away so you decided to go back to sleep. A couple of minutes later, you felt the covers, and your warmth, being snatched from yourself.

“Rise and shine, princess!” You opened your eyes to see Erik smiling with all of his teeth showing and holding the covers with both of his arms.

“N’jadaka...” You groaned while walking towards the bathroom.

“Whoa now... you didn’t need to say a nigga’s government name like that.” He said while following you.

You rolled your eyes while you walked into the bathroom, closing the door on his face.

“Wow. Okay. Um.... your clothes are onto of the sink, babygirl. We’re leaving in 30 minutes to get our outfits, get our make-up done, our hair done, and uh.... I don’t know. I forgot. It left my brain.. Love you, Mamas!”

You snickered to yourself.

“I love you too, Negro!”

You looked at yourself in the mirror and smiled, but then that smile disappeared when today registered in your head. 

Today was the Grammys.

shitshitshitshitshitshitshitSHIT- You rubbed your face and sighed. You can get through this.. You hope..

-----

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Erik- okay.”

“Lock the door. I love you.” He chaste kissed you and grabbed the Tesla key card from you.

“I love you too.”

He closed the door and you locked the car while watching him walk into the Dry Cleaners. You still had thoughts in your head about the Grammys. Of course you said yes and you knew that the Grammys were a BIG deal, it’s just that it didn’t catch up to you at you were ACTUALLY going to the Grammys. 

You looked over to the dry cleaners to see a girl jumping around near Erik while he was writing something, supposedly his signature. They talked for a while until he pointed at the car and smiled. They both looked at you and started waving. So, you waved back and smiled.  They started talking again so you started playing some music while you waited on Erik.

A couple of minutes later, Erik came back with two black garment bags. You unlocked the car and he opened back door. 

“Thanks, Baby.” He said while putting the garment bags in the back seat.

“No problem.”

He shut the door and got into the driver’s seat. He paused for a couple of seconds before turning his head towards you.

“Baby, you good?” He said with concern laced in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” 

He looked you up and down before slowly starting the car and driving off. 

He drove for a little bit in silence, listening to the music, before starting a conversation with you.

“You know... I love that hoodie on you, Mamas..”

You rolled your eyes. The hoodie that you were wearing right now was a red hoodie. The same red hoodie that Erik was wearing right now. The only thing different about it was that on the back of your hoodie it says, ‘Monger’s Girl’. 

“Of course you love this hoodie, Daka.” You said while chuckling.

“Hell yeah I do! It means you’re not going anywhere! So you can tell your lil’ boyfriends you were planning on dating after we were to “break up” that you’re gonna be preoccupied with me.” He stated with a smug look on his face.

“I wasn’t planning on dating anyone after you. You’re too cute.” 

You two sat in silence for a little bit...

“It’s the dick, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

You two broke out into a fit of laughter which caused Erik to swerve a little bit. Man... you wouldn’t trade him for the world...

----

You two arrived at your friend Avery’s hair salon and sat in the car for a little bit. Erik was on Instagram while you were on Snapchat, taking random pictures.

“Oh, so that’s what we’re doing now?”You turned your body towards Erik and he looked pissed. Only this time, you can truly say that you didn’t do anything.

“What?”

“You taking pictures without me, baby. I thought we were a team.” He started to fake pout and do puppy eyes towards you.

You laughed and opened the door. You got out of the car and turned around to be met with Erik looking at you like he was very shocked offended at something you just did. You then realized what happened:

You opened the car door.

 Erik loves to be a gentleman to you and NEVER (emphasis on the never) let’s you open a car door when you’re with him by all means. Oh shit- “What??” You chuckled.

“Mama, when have you EVER opened a car door since you’ve been with me?” He crossed his arms and sat back into his seat.

“Uhm... never...?” You tucked your phone into your back pocket.

“So... what makes it... okay to do that now...?” 

Oh my god...

“I don’t know...” You started to move your feet a little bit.

“What did I tell you about that ‘I don’t know’ stuff, Ma?”

You decided not to say anything and just stand there. You knew you weren’t in trouble, Erik just loves to make you feel like royalty.

He chuckled. “Get back in the car, lil mama.”

“Eri-“

“Y/N.” He gave you a stern dad look. God, if looks could kill... you would be dead by now.

You sat back down in the car and closed the door. He triumphantly smiled, knowing that he ‘won’, and got out of the car. He grabbed the garment bags, slung them over his shoulder, closed the car door, and went to your side. Erik starred at you for a couple of seconds and opened your car door, laughing.

You got out of the car and looked at Erik while he closed the door.

“Nigga, you do too much.” You said as you both started walking to the salon. Erik turned around and started walking backwards, locking eyes with you.

“Would you rather me do too much or do too little?” You started to speak until he cut you off.

“Exactly.” He pointed at you, turned back around, and jogs to the door. You playfully rolled your eye and start jogging a little bit to get to the door faster. 

Once you two got into the salon, you were greeted by two arms wrapping around you, and a sweet scent of strawberries.

“Oh my god! Hey, Y/N!!” You wrapped your arms around Avery and gently squeezed her. Avery’s hair always smelled like strawberries. Even when you two were kids, her hair smelled like strawberries. 

“Avery! Hi!” You two released from the hug. 

“Oh! Killa, you can just set the garment bags down over there.” She pointed to a clothing rack on the other side of the wall. Erik huffed and slowly started making his way to the rack.

“So,” Avery brought all of her attention towards you. “The Grammys!” 

You nodded and forced a smile on your lips, hoping that she wouldn’t notice. But being the instigator she is.. She noticed it.

“You...” She brought her voice down a little bit so Erik wouldn’t hear her. “You don’t wanna go..? Is he making you go against your will? Blink three times if he-”

“Avery!” You cut her off. She immediately stopped and looked at you.

“I want to go, I really do. I’m just nervous, that’s all.”

“Why don’t you talk to Erik about that?”

“I don’t want him to worry about me.”

“Y/N.... That’s his job! To worry about you!”

You rolled your eyes and sat down at an hair station.

“Can we just get this done and over with?”

Avery laughed and got to work.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 5 hours later ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“Baby, just come out!”

“Hold on, Daka! I gotta make sure that my dress is right!”

“Baby, you look perfect. Come on!”

Erik was already dressed and ready to go to the Grammys. You on the other hand.. was nervous as hell.

“Baby.. please, you look amazing!”

You took a deep breath and walked out of the dressing room. Erik looked you up and down before whispering a ‘wow’. He walked up to you and rested his hands on your waist. 

“You look... beautiful.” Erik spun you around and faced you towards a long mirror that was hanging on the opposite side of the wall. You both had on corresponding outfits , that Erik picked out, and you two rocked flawlessly.

“Alright guys!” Avery stomped out of another room with pieces of jewelry in her hands. “I hope you guys are- whoa!”

Her eyes became wide as she saw the outfits.

“You two look like a Disney prince and princess!” You rolled your eyes.

“So, i’m guessing i’m Prince Naveen and this beautiful girl right here is Princess Tiana?” Erik said with a smirk.

“Oh hell no.” You said while giggling.

Avery picked up the jewelry and walked over to you two. She started putting on the pieces of jewelry on you first. When she was done, she went straight to put the jewelry on Erik, giving you some time to look at yourself.

You looked into a nearby vanity and admired yourself. You actually looked like a full-on princess (you have a tiara on- and yes, it was erik’s wish.). Your everything was done. You hair, makeup, nails, ect.

Erik walked behind you, with his earrings, chains, and rings on, and wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder.

“Whatchu thinking about, princess?”

You overlapped you’re arms around his and sighed.

“Well, first of all, i’m thinking about how your big ass head is finna smear my makeup!”

He lifted his head from your shoulder and rested his head on top of your head.

“Is that better?”

“No, you have a heavy ass head.”

“That’s not what you said when i was eating you o-“

“OKAY!”

You quickly leaped out of his arms and walked away from him, laughing in the process.

“You didn’t need to expose me like that, y’know.” You sat down in chair while Erik followed you.

“It’s just me and you here, Ma.”

“Yeah, in this room. What if Avery heard it?”

“Then she’ll know that I gave you some bomb-ass head a couple-“

“Nigga!”

“Okay okay!” He put his hands up, like he was surrendering.

“But,” He grabbed your hand and pulled you up to your feet. “You look so damn amazing, baby.”

You looked him up and down. “I guess you look good.”

“Guess? Baby, i’m a five-star meal. Ain’t no guessing over here.”

You both laughed while Avery walked over.

“Well, my work here is done! You two want any pictures while you’re here?”

Erik pulled his phone out of his back pocket and handed it to Avery.

“As good as Y/N is over here looking? Hell yes.”

You two took lots of pictures. Goofy ones, Serious ones, non planned ones, you name it. After you were done, you said your goodbyes and went on to go to the Grammys!

shit.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

ya’ll been without this series for a whole MONTH I-

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

taglist: @mccrps​ @dr-haze​ @imadreamysoul​ @teehjayy​ @pastelastronomy24​ @regulartuan​ @enigmaticaphrodite​ @srirachibi​ @queen-with-the-queen-shirt​ @disorganized-mess-xxx​ @fd-writes​ @iamrheaspeaks​ @destinio1​ @keiva1000​ @itsqu33n​ @raysunshine78​ @bugngiz​ @iris-eyez​ @soufcakmistress​ @igorsbby​ @thiccdaddy-mbaku​ @amirra88​ @chaneajoyyy​ @ljstraightnochaser​ @hidden-treasures21​ @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses @mrs-thompsonnn​ @toniilaney​ @mydemons-aremy-friends​ @xo-goldengirl​ @mygirlrenee​

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! <3

[prettyboy-parker]

starker abo: homecoming

warnings: emotional and physical abuse (nothing explicit!), smut at the end, implied thorki, mentioned sambucky

words: 3.7k

“Jesus, he’s such a fuckin’ crybaby. I feel bad for Quentin.”

Everyone turns to look at the table across the cafeteria. Peter Parker, the world’s snootiest omega, is perched on top of the navy lunch table and bawling his eyes out. Loki, a lithe snarky omega, is patting under Peter’s eyes with tissues. His usual posse huddles around him, cooing at and petting him.

“I don’t. His performance in bed probably outweighs his attitude, if you catch my drift.” Sam snickers and Bucky punches him in the arm. The alpha lets out a whine and rubs at his shoulder. “Hey! What was that for?” He snaps at his boyfriend. Bucky just narrows his eyes. Tony finds himself looking at Peter again. He seems to have calmed down a little. His friends usher him out of the cafeteria, no doubt to help him fix his makeup. Tony could gag at how fucking prissy the omega is.

“You okay, Tony? You look a little pale.” Steve says, and Tony can’t believe he’s actually concerned.

“Jeez, Steve, I’m fine. Your motherly instincts take over?”

The table howls with laughter.

“Good one, Stark!” Thor booms and Steve rolls his eyes. Tony sends a wink at Steve, a group of girls heading towards their table emerging in the corner of his eye.

“Steven,” Peggy, the beta exchange student from England, pipes up. A few of her friends giggle behind her. “Would you come with me? I have to talk to you.”

Steve nods wordlessly, trailing behind her like a lost puppy.

“He’s smitten, I tell ya’.” Bucky slurs, tossing a crumpled napkin at Sam.

“Idiot. I’ve got to piss, see you in Calc.”

Sam groans and Rhodey shouts “TMI!” Tony passes a table of girls on his way out, and they all call his name. He shoots them a wink, opening the double doors to the hallway. It’s actually quiet in the hallway, aside from his combat boots thunking on the linoleum floors. He fishes through his leather jacket’s pocket, looking for his cigs, when-

“Watch where you’re fucking going!”

Tony stumbles back as he knocks into, well, none other than Peter Parker. He looks like he’s going to cry again as Loki lifts him off of the floor. The tan-skinned beta flips him a bird as they walk away.

Great.

✨👑✨

He can’t believe Quent would ever say that to him. For one, he’s not a slut. He’d never cheat on Quentin, he knows that, so why did he say it? Two, Quentin’s lucky no one was around to see Peter’s tears.

What he can’t get over is how Quentin touched him like that.

He’s heard of alphas hitting their omegas, but it’s always been an old wive’s tale, or whatever. He guesses that Quentin’s just stressed. He didn’t do so hot on his Pre-Calc test, so maybe he has some pent up anger.

Peter needs to send him some flowers.

By the time he gets back to his apartment, he’s already tried calling Quentin three times to apologize, but the alpha never picked up. He drops his Vera Bradley book bag on the floor with a heavy sigh.

“Hey, Peter! How was school?” Uncle Ben asks from where he’s seated at the kitchen island.

Peter breaks down into tears.

Uncle Ben takes him in his arms, holding him close. That’s the thing about his uncle, whenever he’s upset he just lets Peter cry it out, never asking for an explanation. Peter appreciates when his aunt gives him advice, he really does, but sometimes it’s nicer just to be held.

“I’ve got Halotop ice cream that’s calling your name.”

Peter giggles softly as Uncle Ben ruffles his hair.

Soon enough he’s cuddled under his silk sheets, a carton of peanut butter cup ice cream in his hands. In the midst of watching Cady and Janis mix together foot cream, his phone rings.  “Quentin 💕💕” lights up on the screen over a very flattering picture of his boyfriend.

“Hi,” Peter answers quietly.

“Hi honey, I just-um-wanted to say I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean any of it.”

“It’s okay Quent, I was a bitch too. I’m sorry.” Peter responds quietly, stabbing his ice cream with his spoon.

“You kind of were. I’ll catch you tomorrow, okay?”

“Bye, love you.”

“Bye.”

Peter hangs up the phone, feeling emptier than before.

✨👑✨

“Anthony, you are not wearing that.”

Tony smirks and adjusts the collar of his leather jacket.

“Don’t worry, dad. I know Peter. It’s all good.” He replies, running a hand through his hand. Howard clenches his jaw.

“Come on, boys. We don’t want to be late.” His mother calls, ushering the two to the car. Howard still looks pissed as he climbs into the driver's seat, Tony scrolling through Instagram as they drive to the Parker’s. A picture of Peter appears, the omega posing on the hood of a cherry red ‘65 Thunderbird. His long, milky legs are displayed by his tiny red running shorts. A sliver of his toned stomach is exposed by his cream Coca Cola crop top. His almond hair looks like it’s blowing in the wind. Red heart-shaped glasses frame his face perfectly. The caption reads “Taste the Feeling! ♥️♥️”.

A small part of Tony wants to taste him.

He ignores that part.

“Now you behave, Anthony. This deal is important, we’re paying Benjamin a lot of money for his program.” Howard reminds him.

“Yeah yeah,” Tony replies, rolling his eyes and itching for a smoke. They pull up to one of the apartment complexes in the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Tony begrudgingly follows his parents, the elevator operator nervously pressing the buttons.  The elevator brings them directly to Peter’s penthouse because of course, the Parkers have a penthouse.

“Oh, hello!” A voice exclaims from the kitchen. He stands awkwardly until Mrs. Parker emerges from the other room. “Welcome, all of you!” She exclaims, giving his mom a hug.

“Oh, Anthony, I remember when you were just a baby. Your mother came to me for a dress for a gala, and she brought you along. You’ve grown into such a handsome alpha.”

Tony flushes, embarrassed. His mom laughs loudly and pinches his cheeks.

“Peter should be down soon, he always takes forever to get ready.” Mrs. Parker complains, pushing her glasses farther up her nose. “Benjamin is picking some whiskey from the cellar. Why don’t you come sit down?”

Mrs. Parker leads them to the living room, where the couches are covered with blankets and the fireplace roars. Tony sinks into the knitted blanket, sighing heavily.

“Oh, goodness, I’m sorry I’m late!”

Peter Parker is at the top of the steps, in a tight, glittery maroon dress, looking like an absolute vision.

“Come down, Pete.” His aunt calls with a smile. The omega’s heels click on the hardwood staircase as he comes downstairs. He’s prettier up close, a silver glittery barrette holding his curls out of his face. Gold glitter is swept over his cheeks and eyelids.

“Anthony,” He says, scrunching up his button nose. Tony winks at him. The only empty seat is next to the alpha, so Peter daintily sits down on the couch. He smells divine, like expensive floral perfume mixed with the sweet scent of omega.

“You can call me Tony, you know.” The alpha purrs under the voices of his parents and Mrs. Parker. Peter rolls his eyes.

“Dully noted.” He snaps back, but Tony just laughs.

Dinner goes on slowly and Tony keeps his mouth shut. Peter’s definitely checking him out (or maybe that’s just Tony’s ego.) During the meal of lamb and beef, Tony notices a bruise blooming under the hem of his dress.

The omega gives him a glare and adjusts his collar.

✨👑✨

“Did you hear? We’re being assigned partners this time.”

“Ugh, gag,” Peter grumbles, tapping his pink pen on his pink notebook.

“I know,” Loki responds, eyes glancing to the back of the room. “I hope I get paired up with Thor, though.”

Peter smiles and picks at his cuticle.

“He better ask you to homecoming. I’m blackmailing him if he doesn’t by Friday.” He says nonchalantly, eyeing the burly blonde in the back of the room. He’s laughing about something with Anthony.

“Peter. I’ll beat you to it, you know that.” Loki jokes. Peter nudges him in the shoulder of his dark green sweater. The class quiets down when Ms. Hill steps into the room.

“Good afternoon, everyone. As you may have heard from the other classes, we’re starting our quarter project.” She announces. “I’ll be assigning you into partners, and you’ll be researching the impact and achievements of a Chinese dynasty.”  

The glass groans, a few pairs of eyes flicking around nervously.

“Calm down. It’s senior year, you should all know each other by now. I’ve already have your partners, so listen up...”

Peter studies his French manicure as Ms. Hill calls out their names. He gives Loki a wink when the teacher pairs Thor with him for the Tang Dynasty. It’s getting to the end of the list, and Peter’s worried that Ms. Hill might have forgotten him, then-

“Tony and Peter. Song Dynasty.”

The omega dies a little inside.

“Alright, get to work! Rubrics are on my desk, get brainstorming!”

The class disperses into a flurry of noise and movement. Tony slowly stalks over to him like the douchebag he is.

“How about you get the rubric?” Peter suggests, but it’s more of an order than anything. Tony smirks and places his pencil on the desk next to Peter.

“Anything for you, princess.” He teases, causing the omega to flush a bright red. Peter doodles in his notebook until Tony gets back with two rubrics.

“Song Dynasty. I’m fuckin’ pumped.”

This actually makes Peter giggle a little bit.

“Calm down, Anthony.” He quips back, a small smile on his face.

It turns out the two work together pretty well.

Tony’s definitely not a slacker, and had avid ideas that Peter wrote down. They settled on a comedy-style presentation. (Which Peter would neverdo, but who can say no to Tony’s puppy dog eyes?)

When the bell rings, Tony walks him to his next class, like a...gentleman.

Who knew?

✨👑✨

“Good morning Midtown! I’m Peter Parker, your SGA President.”

Tony turns his attention to the T.V in the hallway. Peter sits at the newscaster desk, in a navy and white tennis polo, a matching headband pushing back his curls, and two big pearls adorning his ears. Tony could purr, but he pinches himself. There’s no way he can be falling for Peter Parker.

No way.

The entire hallway goes silent, in awe of their queen on the screen.

“A quick reminder-next week is spirit week! The days are posted on our Instagram and around the school. Don’t forget to buy your homecoming tickets. They’re being sold all week in the cafeteria. Thanks, and have a wonderful day!”

Everyone resumes their conversation.

Tony slams his locker shut.

✨👑✨

“Oh god, you are not making me ride that.”

Tony laughs loudly and tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

Peter stands with his arms crossed over his baby blue Chanel sweater. His pink lips are turned down into a frown, button nose scrunched like it always is.

“I am. Unless you want to walk?” Tony coos, handing his helmet to the omega. His honey eyes glance down at the black helmet, then back up to Tony.

“You’ll keep me safe?” Peter asks quietly, his bitchy facade dropping. Tony’s eyes widen.

“Oh, of course, Pete. I’d never let anything happen to you.” The alpha responds, genuine care in his voice.

“Well, then let’s go, slowpoke.” Peter huffs, placing the ill-fitting helmet on top of his curls. Tony chuckles and straddles the bike, waiting as Peter slowly wraps his arms around his torso, resting his cheek on his back.

“Hold on!” Tony calls as he starts the bike, causing the tiny omega to yelp. They leave school, weaving through the cars and students. Peter shouts directions to his house in Tony’s ear, the alpha smiling as the wind whips behind him. They eventually arrive at Peter’s apartment complex, parking his motorcycle in the garage for the occupants.

“That sucked,” Peter grumbles, but-Tony sniffs the air.

Peter’s turned on.

He’s about to crack a joke, but stops himself. Peter looks at the ground, embarrassed.

“Sorry. Didn’t bring my car.”

Peter tries to hide his smile.

The omega brings him up to his penthouse, heading to the kitchen to grab something to eat.

“Do you want anything, Tony? I’ve got...quite a lot.” Peter asks, grabbing some wheat crackers and spread from the fridge. Tony shucks off his leather jacket, placing it over the back of the chair. He runs his hand over the cool marble counter.

“I’m good, but thank you.” He responds, pulling his notebook out of his bag. Peter shrugs, grabbing his book bag.

“Suit yourself. Let’s go upstairs, my aunt will be home soon.” He tells Tony, not sparing him a second glance before heading to the staircase. The alpha rushes behind him, narrowly avoiding an expensive looking vase. They turn right down the hallway, pictures of Peter at all stages of his life on the walls. One catches Tony’s eyes, a little baby Peter with a big blue bow on his head, smiling as he plays in a pile of leaves.

“Please don’t touch anything, Anthony.” Peter sniffs when they reach his room, pink exploding in Tony’s vision. His room is huge, perfectly cleaned and organized. There are pictures everywhere, Peter smiling with his friends. A king-sized canopy bed sits in the middle of the room, expensive silk pillows arranged with care. Peter plops himself on the ground, spreading out his papers.

”Your room is...nice.” Tony comments, sitting on the ground next to Peter. He's still overwhelmed by the omegan aroma filling the room.

”Thank you.” Peter says softly, clearly pleased.

”Should we get started? I had some ideas about how we should present the civil service exam.”

They get a big chunk of their work done but end up talking about everything butthe Song Dynasty. Peter’s actually really fucking smart, wanting to study biological engineering in college. He's down to earth and an absolute sweetheart when he's not surrounded by the student body.

And he's really fucking pretty.

”I know! Fury is such a hardass!” Peter exclaims through giggles, tears coming out of his big doe eyes. His curls are a mess, splayed underneath his head.

Tony isn’t thinking when he reaches over and thumbs away Peter’s happy tears.

The omega blinks in surprise, but-

sucks Tony’s thumb into his mouth.

Tony growls loudly, removing his thumb from Peter’s mouth with a pop, leaning down, and pressing his lips to the other’s. The omega is everything Tony thought he would be. Sweet like sugar, with the remnants of the crackers on his tongue. He hums happily as Tony picks him up, pulling the smaller into his lap.

“Tony-“

“I fucking like you, Parker.”

“Tony,” Peter whispers as the alpha lightly drags his fingers over his bare thighs. “Tony, I have a boyfriend.”

“He doesn’t deserve to be your boyfriend, Peter.” Tony says, almost frantically. “He-He fucking hurts you.”

Peter flinches at his word choice.

“He doesn’t. It’s none of your business.” The omega breathes, avoiding Tony’s gaze.

“Peter, please tell someone. Or break up with him, I don’t care.” The alpha pleads, taking Peter’s hands in his. The omega rips them away.

“He loves me. Please drop it.”

Tony bites his tongue.

✨👑✨

“Loki, your bow is crooked.”

Loki rolls his eyes and spins around.

“Then fix it, Peter.”

Peter laughs and straightens the blue bow that holds his black, silky hair out of his face. It’s Class Colors Friday, the seniors getting their rightful color of blue. Harley takes a bite of his sandwich, looking over Peter’s shoulder.

“Uh, Pete? Quentin’s coming over here, and he looks mad.”

Peter turns around, seeing his boyfriend heading towards him with a scowl on his face. Peter pretends to light up, giving him a small wave. Before he can greet the alpha, he’s grabbing Peter by his cheerleading jacket.

“You fucking slut,” He growls, blue eyes narrowed. “You sleeping around with Stark now?”

Peter whimpers as his breathing picks up.

“Quent, you’re making a scene.” He whispers, tugging at the alpha’s sleeve gently. Quentin grins menacingly.

“Am I, now?” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to Peter’s cheek. “That’s high praise coming from a drama queen like yourself. Have fun finding another homecoming date.”

With that, Quentin pushes him back, and storms out of the cafeteria. Peter follows him, ignoring the shouts from his friends.

“Quentin, baby, wait!” The omega calls out once they get into the hallway, causing the alpha to spin around.

“Is it true? You made out with Stark?”

Peter’s bottom lip quivers as he stays silent. Quentin sighs exasperatedly, clenching his fists tightly.

“You deserve everything I did to you, Peter. And I hope you fucking know it.”

Peter doesn’t see his, well, ex-boyfriend, leave through his tears. He shuffles off to the omega restroom, trying to keep his mascara from running. He sifts through his purse for his little packet of tissues, dabbing at his eyes frantically. The door swings open, and Peter expects Loki and Harley, but the smell of smoke and musky alpha fills the room.

“Shit, Peter, I’m so fucking sorry,” Tony says quickly. Peter just whimpers and cuddles into the alpha’s torso.

“You were right,” He cries, breathing in deep breaths of Tony’s scent. The other boy strokes his curls, shushing him. “And now I don’t have a homecoming date, and all my friends do, and senior year is just going to suck.”

Tony sighs deeply from above him.

“I can go with you, if you want.”

Peter looks up into Tony’s deep brown eyes.

“Are you asking me out, Anthony?” He teases, poking the alpha’s cheek. His eyes widen in surprised.

“No! Not at all. I’m just saying, if you wanted to, I’d be willing to go with you.”

Peter laughs and kisses him.

✨👑✨

Tony’s so fucking nervous.

His hands shake as he grips the stupid plastic corsage box in one, ringing the doorbell with the other.

Mrs. Parker opens the door.

“Tony. Come on in. Peter will be down in a second.” She says with a glint in her eyes. Tony follows her into the apartment, perfectly clean, like always.

“Let me see,” Mrs. Parker smiles, leaning over to look at the corsage in the box. “He’ll love it.”

Speaking of him-

Peter Parker appears at the top of the steps.

Tony’s mouth parts subconsciously. Peter looks-Peter looks stunning. His dress is a cherry red that matches his lipstick, all lace and off the shoulder. He walks down slowly, smoothing the skirt of his dress.

“Peter, oh my god, you look beautiful.” Tony sputters as Peter gives him a peck on the cheek.

“And you look handsome,” The omega responds, thin fingers adjusting Tony’s tie. “You bought a corsage!”

Tony laughs, opening the box and picking up the white rose. He adjusts it on Peter’s wrist as the other boy pins a white boutonniere to Tony’s lapel.

“Perfect,” He coos, pressing another kiss to Tony’s jaw.

Mrs. Parker gives him a quick, threatening talk as Peter uses the bathroom. Peter fake swoons when Tony opens the passenger door to his Audi.

They’re the perfect pair.

They take pictures and dance and kiss and it’s everything Tony could ever dream of. Peter wins homecoming queen, as he should. He looks divine on stage, sparkling tiara on his curls and smiling wide.

“Alpha,” Peter whines, 30 minutes before the dance ends, making Tony’s heart skip a beat.

“Yeah, baby?” Tony responds, grinding his hips forward against Peter’s ass, a quiet ‘oof’ falling from his lips.

“Can-Can we go back to your place? If your parents aren’t home-“

“Fuck yes.”

The car is thick with the scent of arousal, the mixing of their pheromones making Tony crazy. They’re on top of each other once they make it inside.

“Tony, where’s your room?” Peter moans as Tony nibbles on his neck. The alpha doesn’t respond, instead lifts the smaller into his arms. Tony rushes upstairs, making sure he doesn’t drop Peter. They collapse onto the bed, Tony pressing his lips to Peter’s. He tastes delicious, as always, and Tony can’t help but moan. He pulls off of Peter, shucking off his suit jacket as Peter stands up.

“Alpha, can you help undo my dress?”

That phrase sends a jolt of arousal to Tony’s dick.

He obeys, thick fingers tugging the silver zipper down. Peter steps out of the dress, his freckled back on full display, as well as his delectable ass that’s barely covered by white panties. In awe, Tony runs his fingers over the pale stretch marks littering his flesh.

“Is that- are they too gross? Quentin always said t-they were ugly.”

Tony’s speechless.

“No, no, baby,” He coos, spinning Peter around so he can see his face. His doe eyes shine with oncoming tears. “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that? You’re the sexiest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen.”

Peter giggles shyly, flushed.

“Fuck Quentin. He’s a pussy, not a real alpha. He never deserved you. You’re perfect, my little omega.”

They make love.

There’s nothing else to call it-not fucking, not sex. Peter rides him for everything he’s worth, tiny cock leaking against his stomach as his thick thighs straddle Tony’s. The tiara stays on, his curls becoming damp with sweat. Tony doesn’t last long, he pops his knot too early, but he doesn’t mind, since Peter is right behind him.

“Tony?” The omega whispers after Tony slipped out of him and cleaned them up.

“Yeah?” The alpha responds, breath hitting the back of Peter’s neck.

“I fucking like you, Stark.”

Tony laughs, pulls Peter closer under the covers, and kisses him.

[candied-peach]

ao3: “soft breaths” rating: T warnings: panic attacks, sympathetic deceit, sympathetic remus (mention), anxceit genre: fluff description: Deceit helps Virgil calm down.

He is shaky still, as Deceit helps him to his feet. Purple hair sticks to his clammy forehead, and his eyes are still dazed, his shoulders still hitching with the force of each unsteady breath.

"In for four," Deceit murmurs, demonstrating Virgil's breathing exercise over and over, even as they walk. He came across his boyfriend tucked into a corner of the living room, unnoticed by anyone else. If it wasn't for the fact that Virgil needs him, Deceit thinks he would have a few sharp, well-placed words about that.

But Virgil does need him, so in the end, he calms Virgil down in the corner, crouched in front of him, and now leads him back to his room. He can hear Patton singing in the kitchen, but he isn't sure where the others are. Remus is probably wreaking havoc somewhere. Deceit can't find it in himself to care at the moment. Not when he is tasked with such delicate cargo.

"In we go," Deceit says, ushering Virgil into his room. It is warm, almost painfully so to the others, because of the heating lamp that takes up so much of the floor space. Virgil lets out a happy sigh when he feels it, his fingers already going to his hoodie zipper. Deceit helps him out of it, hanging it on the doorknob when he closes the door behind them, so there's no chance Virgil will accidentally leave it behind. It is only in Deceit's room that Virgil feels comfortable going without.

"What do you need?" Deceit asks quietly. Sometimes Virgil just wants to sit or stand there in silence, eyes closed and hands splayed for balance, as he fights for mental equilibrium. Sometimes he wants snuggles, to be cuddled so tightly in Deceit's many arms he can't find where he ends and Deceit begins. Other times, he wants a distraction, wants a Rubix cube or video games or TV or even a coloring book. Deceit has them all, stored carefully away where he can easily find them.

"Cuddles and Steven Universe?" Virgil requests, still shy, still hesitant. Deceit gently leads him to the bed, settling him among the many blankets before he turns on Steven Universe. He chooses the episode where Lapis is introduced, knowing it's one of Virgil's favorites. When he turns back, he sees Virgil reaching out for him, and his smile can't help but widen.

"I'm coming," he murmurs. Virgil is pliant and warm against him and Deceit rearranges himself around his boyfriend, planting soft kisses to the top of Virgil's head.

"Thanks, Dee," Virgil mumbles, sleepy now that the panic has departed. He's described it before as running a marathon with weights tied round his ankles, and Deceit believes him. "You're the best."

"I believe that is you," Deceit says, booping Virgil's nose and surprising a giggle out of him.

"It's definitely you," Virgil insists, twisting a little in Deceit's arms so he can look up into Deceit's face.

And then he boops Deceit on the nose, making him blep in surprise.

"You did a blep!" Virgil crows, giggling. "I saw you!"

"You're lucky you hate being tickled," Deceit grumbles. "Or I'd tickle you mercilessly right now."

"Yeah, well," Virgil says, looking smug. "You know you love me."

"Of course I do," Deceit says, kissing the tip of Virgil's nose. "Always."